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vintagexherry · 6 months

Text

Act

YandereDirector!Miguel O'Hara x Actress!Reader

//Dead dove do not eat,Lying in public, Kidnapping, Fake Death, Mild stockholm syndrome, Lyla being a wingwoman, Heavy Abuse, half drowing, Heavy animal abuse, Animal death, implied sexual abuse.

A/N: 2nd winner of the poll, Have this for awhile while I get busy with school and might not upload TFTD soon

---

"She was the kindest person I worked with, she knew what to do and how to do it professionally. We might not have that much time together, but for whatever it's worth, she was truly a unique person..."

Miguel paused for a while, holding back a sob from his throat.

"I wished for Y/N's family and friends my condolences and not to forget my gratitude for bringing up a person like her in this world."

With that, Miguel left the podium with a solemn expression, cameras flashing from left to right. Nosy interviewers pushing up microphones his way, trying to one up each other, hoping their questions will be answered.

That day was grey, gloomy, and depressing. News have found that you have gone missing the past few months and after multiple searches from the government, you were now declared dead.

Some people believe, some don't. Mostly, conspiracies would say that you were still alive, crawling on the ground out of a hole where you were said to be buried alive by some jealous actor. Some would say you got abducted or kidnapped by some crazed fan.

It's still a mystery if either you're dead or alive, disappearing just after your premiere show.

But that's what public only knows.

Miguel enters the backseat of his car on the way to his private mansion in some woods. He let's out a small chuckle.

"Great work out there, big boss"

A woman who seemed to be younger than Miguel sits at the driver's seat, she started the car and drives away, away from cameras, away from people and away from suspecting ears.

"I wIsHed HeR faMiLy mY ConDolOncEs" Lyla mocked as she stopped in the middle of traffic.

"Just drive, Lyla," Miguel huffed, but nonetheless, still happy, he finally got out of that stuffy crowd.

"Whatever you say boss."

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A few minutes passed by, and they finally arrived in a land barricaded by gates and high security cameras and sensors.

The high tall gates opened up to let the car in.

"Were there any distubance with Y/N?" Miguel asks as he leaves the car and goes straight to this house with Lyla closely behind.

"Aside from going to the bathroom and playing with the cat, nothing else seems out of the ordinary."

"...Really?"

"No kicking doors, no attempt to break windows and nothing else. She seems to be adjusting well."

Miguel went silent for a while as they passed by the garden and fountaine, where you and him would (forcefully) walk side by side, that is, until you tried running away.

"That's... Good to hear. Thanks, Lyla."

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"How's your day, dear?" Miguel approaced your form, sitting on the bed, petting your beloved cat and looking out the window.

"Alright......How's... Your speech? Lyla told me you had one"

He almost forgot Lyla would tell you things he currently does, but he's thankful she doesn't go to detail.

"It was nothing special. But other than that, I got you a little something."

He held a in a sigh as you merely looked at the bag by his hand.

He took the bag and landed it on the bed beside your form and looked at you patiently.

You hesitated a bit, He can understand why.

He spoiled you lots and lots thanks to his rising director career, but his gifts can vary a lot. To dresses, to jewellery, up to sex toys, and lingerine.

You remember one time you got gifted a lingerine version of your fictional character suit, and you refused to wear it. Next thing you know, you were forced to be naked for three days. Your usual thick blanket got changed into a much thinner one, rendering it almost useless to the cold temperature Miguel set your room in.

You decided to accept his gifts no matter what they are.

You placed the cat next to you while cautiously grabbing the bag as if it could explode any second.

The moment you opened the bag, you let out a breath of relief.

Inside was a box of necklace, with it, come matching earrings.

"Thought it matched your eyes, mi amor."

"...Yo-you shouldn't have."

"You're right. I shouldn't, but I wanted too, anyway.Why don't you try it on?"

Without waiting your answer, he took the box from you and lifted your hair a bit to place the necklace around you. You held back a shiver when the cold material touched your skin.

When you felt the necklace lock, Miguel took a mirror from the vanity and placed it in front of you, making you see yourself.

"Aren't you stunning?" Miguel smiled as he watched the necklace glimmer.

"Y-yes."

"Now, what do we say?"

"Th-thank you."

Miguel smiled wider.

"Very good, you're learning more and more." He kissed your cheek while you fought back the urge to flinch away.

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Three months ago

"....And cut! You there! One more mistake im cutting you out of this role." Miguel shouted as people flinched from the volume of his voice and the actor mentioned huffed in annoyance.

"Yeah, whatever" He mumbled.

Miguel sighed, a headache soon to rise.

"Call a break, be back at twenty."

With that, everyone left to go to their own places to take a breather and relax for a bit. You did the same while double-checking your script.

You didn't know how many hours it has been, but the repetitive number of mistakes that your co-actor has been doing has really done an effect on you. You understand that actors alike make mistakes, but he keeps forgetting lines, forgetting actions, and sometimes won't listen to cues and signals.

When being called to audition this role, your heart soar with happiness and excitement. Working under Miguel O'Hara is no joke after all. He was strict yet creative with his movies. The number of awards and recognition he earned shows that.

The movie your acting is an action genre, which you had a bit of difficulty at first, especially with fighting choreography, but you're glad that the team was patient all together

Patience doesn't really last that long thought. You just hope that one co actor would get his bearings right since the movie is almost done and editing and finalizing will be left.

You didn't realize twenty minutes were done until one of the staff started calling everyone back.

Finally, your co actor has gotten it right, and the rest of the production went smooth.

Before you know it, the movie is released,watched, and you were invited to an awarding event.

Everyone was having the time of their life. You were sitting at your designated table along side with Miguel with his assistant.

Lyla is the best person you have ever met, funny with a brush of sarcasm. Although as bit pushy with personal questions and it's still nice to talk to someone light.

While you enjoy your glass of champagne, you watch as the speaker on stage makes their speech for the winning actress of the year award.

"...And for this year award, we would like to dedicate this to none other than Y/N L/N!"

Your eyes widen as cheers and applause erupted from the crowd.

You stood up adjusting your dress a bit and shaking the hand of Miguel as you pass by.

You got up the stage and retrieved your award, made your thank you speech, and bowed.

You guess that after all those cracked backs and sleepless nights of acting, It was all worth it in the end.

----

It was finally time to relax.

People who have worked in the movie have been invited to Miguel's mansion for a nice and soft after-awards celebration and you were invited.

Miguel has won yet again another award for directing another hit.

The invitation was relayed to you by Lyla, and you have been told it would still be held around eleven pm-ish so people would have time to change into a more comfortable clothing and such.

You thanked Lyla for the message and decided to head home to change out of your dress.

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"Hey, pal!" Lyla greeted you as she opened the door to the mansion.

"Hey Lyla! Sorry if I got a bit late."

"No worries! Your the first one to arrive."

Lyla stepped aside so you could step in. You thanked her as you entered.

You have never been inside Miguel's domain, and to say your shock was an understatement.

His style is more contemporary with a touch of art deco for a bit of colour.

You were mesmerised with the sparkling chandelier, a huge flat tv screen by the wall, and a fireplace under it.

The walls had linings of gold and white, and some renaissance paintings were plastered here and there to give the space more life.

"Impressed? I swear it could use some plants, but Miguel's too edgy for that." Lyla chimed in behind you, and you held in a chuckle since she isn't wrong.

"Why don't you sit by the fireplace while I fetch Miguel?" she suggests as she leads you further into the living room and sits down, relishing the warm heat of the fire.

Lyla smiles at your relaxed state and headed upstairs where you guess Miguel was.

While you wait, you stare by the fire, and you're surprised you got here first. It's not like you're a tardy person, but by now, you expected at least three or four people here already. Then your thoughts drive to Miguel.

Stunning and successfull is all you could say.

You worked under different directors, yet he stood out for some reason. Maybe the way he leads the group with an iron fist or just the way he acts around you.

Your thoughts were cut off by a voice behind you.

"Y/N, nice to see you accepted my invitation. Sorry if I wasn't there to greet you." Miguel greeted as he approaches you, Lyla no where to be seen.

"Mr. O'Hara, Thank you for inviting me." You stood up from your place and gave him a handshake.

"Please, call me Miguel. We're relaxing as of now, why not enjoy it." Miguel shook your hand back, you held back a wince from his grip.

"Why don't we get started with the champagne, while we wait for the others hm?" Miguel suggests and you accepted.

----

"... And then, I slammed my headphones on the floor, and it broke."

You and Miguel laughed at his statement.

Both of you were drunk without a care in the world. The other guests never came but none of you could care.

Especially you.

You hiccuped a laugh as you try stabilizing yourself on the couch. Your body feels warm due to the champagne and the fireplace. Two bottles of empty champagne are placed on the coffee table in front of you.

You swear you wouldn't drink much, especially in front of your director, not wanting to look unprofessional, but it seems like both of you got lost in stories and laughter.

"Bet *hic* Lyla talked your ass off for it."

"Oh, you bet." He chuckled, remembering Lyla scolding him as if he was a child who broke a vase.

You laughed again. At this point, you don't know what for. Your head feels light and dizzy, and your vision is wobbly.

Miguel seemed to notice your state and tried to hide his smile. For some, you notice he barely looked drunk, kinda put shames into your "high-tolerance." But your mind wanders, and the more you do, the more you felt like to a deep need to sleep.

"It looks like you enjoyed the champangne too much." Miguel mused, small smile grew on his face.

Some hint of clarity went into you.

"O-oh, my apologies, I-um probably drank your stock." You apologized as he chuckles.

"Nonsense bebita, got more than you could count." He stares into your dazed state and continues. "You know what? I'll call Lyla, you seemed to need help after all those glasses hm?"

"O-oh *hic* Dun't wanna tr-trouble you, sir. I'll uh go *hic* go home. " you said as you put down your half empty glass on the coffee table and held onto the couch, stood up albiet wobbly.

Miguel stood up quickly, but you were to drunk to notice anything.

Next thing you know, you collapsed. The floor or his arms? You don't know.

-----

".... And make sure the windows are locked."

"Aye aye cap'n"

Your head hurts, your body feels heavy, and your eyes sting from the light from the windows.

The only things you do is realized a comfy and weighted blanket is placed on you and your on a bed you don't recognize.

Your ears could only hear the muffled voices of a man and woman behind the door.

Your eyes roam where it could, and you notice you're in a fancy looking bedroom on a bed that's too big for one person. The windows have curtains on them, but they were opened, making you hiss from the light.

Your head is still dizzy, and you feel like you want to go back to sleep.

But your situation still needs focusing on.

Did you collapse from all that champagne?

Geez, did you sleep in the house of O'hara? god, you hope he isn't mad for needing to take care of your state.

Some sense are finally going back to you, and you decided to sit up with a groan, making the blanket slid of you.

You froze.

This isn't what you were wearing last night.

I mean, who wears a long, spaghetti strap, lacy white night gown to have a drink with your boss?

You panic. Were you still at Miguel's house?

Your questions were answered when the door opened.

There stood Miguel, his eyes automatically landing on you.

"Good. You're awake."

"S-sir?"

"Still calling me that? I thought I told you to call me Miguel?"

You ignored his words as you sat at the edge of the bed.

"I-uh...I...I don't know what happened sir but I apologize for intruding, Im-" You tried speaking, but your words are slurred, your body and mind still processing itself.

"Intruding? Nonsense." Miguel interuppts you, his eyes roam around the long night gown on you. "Seems like I made the right choice for your night gown." He said as he sits beside you on the bed.

You paused.

Was he the one who put this on you?

Signals blare around your head and you try to sit up.

"Si-sir... If I may, I really need to go." Your body finally listens to you as you stand up and try to head towards the door.

You flinched hard when you felt a strong grip on your wrist, stopping you on your tracks.

"What did I just say about calling me Miguel?" His eyes focused on you and you shivered. You really need to go away.

"Si-Miguel... Please, I really need to go."

You pleaded, but your words were ignored, and all Miguel did was pull you closer to him and further from the door.

Your body is now shooting signals left and right your dizziness long forgotten. You tried wriggling your hands out of his grip with all you could muster, Miguel didn't budge a bit and just pulled you into closer to him.

"Don't make this harder." With that he pulled you closer to him one more time before lifting you up and throwing you harshly on the bed.

Air was knocked out of your lungs no matter how soft the matress could be. Fear is going higher and higher in your body, and you're not hearing signals anymore. An entire warning siren rings in your head to get out of here as fast as you could.

What happened last night?

Did you offend him?

Why did he changed your clothes?

Where's your phone?

You didn't have much to think about when the next thing you know was lips roughly pushing agaist your own.

"Mmh!-"

First you got abducted now your forced to kiss your captor.

Your hands automatically tried to push him away by pushing against his chest, but it was futile. His own hands took your wrists away from his chest and pinned down on each side of your head.

He finally let go, and both of you panted from loss of breath.

"Let me g-!"

Your words once again stopped when he kissed you again. This time, it is less rough yet still demanding control.

"I said don't make this harder."

He said as one of his hands gathered both your wrists to be pinned above your head while the other one slid underneath your nightgown to bunch it up to your hips.

"No no nonono please...Miguel I beg you plea-"

"As much as I love you, I'd appreciate it if you shut up for once."

Your words choked up in your throat, following his orders unwillingly. You didn't even realize tears started streaming down your face, soaking the sheets underneath.

Miguel didn't seem to care.

Instead he smiled.

"Good. Atleast you know how to listen."

You tried gulping, but doing so made you choked up even more.

"Shh shh, just calm down."

Yeah...As if that's easy.

His other hand started tracing the lacy patters of your underwear, which you dreadfully realized that was changed too.

You tried wriggling your hips away from him, but that didn't deter him from ripping your underwear off of you.

You painfully yelp from force.

"Shh... Just relax and enjoy the ride hermosa."

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One Month Later.

Life is getting bad and worse the more you spend your time here.

First, you learned Miguel has been planning this for so long since you got recruited to star in his movie. You don't know what that plan contains, but it must have been a really good one since no one is not even the government could find you.

Second, always as permission and opinions from either Lyla or Miguel. One time the both of them went out to attend a meeting. While they were gone, you decided to take a bath by yourself to get rid of the dirty proof you had with Miguel last night. Time must have passed while you were enjoying your alone time since Miguel burst into the bathroom with a deep scowl on his face.

Next thing you know, you were forced under the water of your bath. Water is going in your nose, and bubbles stinging your eyes. Miguel is ranting something, but you don't hear anything due to your fainting consciousness, but Miguel pulled you up before you could even faint and after a few seconds he dunked you again.

Another time was picking clothes. It was finally nighttime, and you wanted something thicker to wear. You saw a cardigan and decided to wear that while you have your usual long, silk night gown underneath.

Miguel came out of the bathroom and paused when he saw what your wearing.

"Dear... What's that? hm?"

You flinched when you heard his voice.

"O-oh umm... Just a cardigan, wanted to be a bit warmer to-today."

He stayed silent for a while until he slowly started approaching you.

You flinched again, Miguel can be unpredictable. Is he gonna shout?.

You don't have time to think when his hands suddenly grab your arm and pulled you into the balcony of your shared room.

"Migue-"

"Warm, huh? Let's see how warm you can be out here without me."

His voice is calm...Eerily calm. But you know better.

He roughly opened the windowed door to the balcony and roughly pushed you into it.

Before you could even think, you heard the door shut behind you and you froze.

Did... Did he just locked you out of here?

"Miguel! Miguel please! Im sorry!!"

You shouted as you banged against the balcony door. You couldn't see anything since Miguel seemed to slide the curtains shut.

After a few minutes, which felt like an hour to you already, you gave up on getting Miguel's attention.

You even thought of jumping off the balcony, but within that height, you're sure you would only end up trying to get up and run on broken bones. You're sure as hell you wouldn't even go that far.

You didn't know when you slept, but your eyes opened to the sun that's just started to rise and Miguel carrying you bridal style back to the bedroom.

You temperature down to yourself and your complexion lighter than usual, your lips and throat dry, your body feels numb, and your temperature surely isn't normal.

You couldn't speak, but Miguel didn't mind and kissed your forehead as he layed you down on the bed.

The warmth of Miguel's body and everything else sent shivers onto you.

Althought your body is reduced to nothing but a shivering piece of meat.

The next time you woke up again, you found every sweater and cardigan disappeared in your closet. With Lyla mocking your choice of clothing is boring anyway.

Finally, third.

Shut up and give what he has to give.

You swear your heart broke everytime you go back to that memory.

Miguel was quote on quote, "feeling generous" that day.

He had his schedule packed and he felt bad for leaving you, sometimes Lyla would accompany you but being his assistant she needs to attend her duties as one.

So he brought you a cat.

You don't remember what you named it but you surely remember you loved it.

Something to call your own.

Something that makes you happy.

You doted on it, fed it, pet it and played with it. It's purrs and meows help you forget the situation your in.

But Miguel is there to remind you.

Miguel noticed your attention is driven away from him to the cat.

That damn cat.

One time, he locked it in a separate room, so he could have his moment with you.

But you would turn away from him, always wondering where the cat is, and if he doesn't answer to your liking you wouldn't let him touch you, Although it doesn't always work, he's getting tired of your attitude.

Next thing you know, he made you sit down all tied up and watch as he beat the helpless cat into a pulp.

You cried as she roughly kicked it to the wall, again and again. You begged him to stop as you listened to the weak call for help of the cat started to dwindle into nothing.

Its eyes were swollen and body bloody and bruised.

Your eyes drifted to Lyla standing by the doorway, and you silently pleaded for her help but it was useless when all she did was sip some soda and watched the beating as if it's a natural occurence.

Your cried even harder when the cat stopped meowing and all you could see was a unmoving lifeless body of the cat you once cherished.

"Next time I see you acting that all lovey dovey to something useless, I'm beating you up next."

With that he untied you from the chair and you quickly scrambled to the floor to gently cradle the dead animal.

Miguel left you to your self.

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Two Months later

You don't know how you're still alive.

Your surprised your internal organs are still working.

Your heart beating.

Your lungs breathing.

Your brain thinking.

Thinking.

Thinking when can you get out.

Miguel practically live in the middle of nowhere, just like those mega-rich people who live in the vast grasslands surrounded by trees and sometimes mountains.

Can you actually get our from here?

Windows?

No.

Hidden cameras surround you more than the paparazzi ever did. They were sometimes annoying, but now you're starting to miss their flashing cameras instead of eerie blinking red dots hidden in drawers or mirrors.

Poisoning him?

No.

Lyla double checks everytime from the ingredients you use to the way you cook them.

Killing yourself?

Not even you have control over your own life anymore.

Miguel practically baby proofed the house for you.

So how...

Maybe never.

All you could do was stare out the window, thinking nothing.

Some drool would slip out of your lips but you didn't care.

You watch the same scenery from the window for the 1000th time. The unchanging grasshills, the migrating birds you would sometimes see and the setting sun and rising moon.

Miguel seemed to deem you unstable. You would cry randomly. You stopped turning away his affection but at what cost?

Maybe he would prefer that instead of you looking out in the middle of no where, thinking nothing.

Your crying outbursts would randomly start, at the shower, in the bed, in the kitchen. You name it.

So maybe going out of the house would help you.

You wordlessly took his hand as he lead you out of the house, watching your reaction or body language the whole time.

It seems he was right. Going outside does help.

Your eyes seem to brighten a fraction.

He didn't even realise he let out a sigh of relief when he watched your eyes look around the massive garden as if it's your first time seeing the color green.

You both roamed around, stopping once or thrice to admire a budding flower or a fluttering butterfly.

Miguel didn't really care for the garden since he didn't have time to roam around and admire what he had already seen for a thousand times already. So maybe it was a bit neglected, bushes are overgrowing and vines seems to spread out more.

He decided that once this little trip is over, he needs to hire a gardener to tend it a bit.

Aside from the view, his enjoying you.

Although he isn't sure which part.

The way your eyes light up more and more as you explored the garden and admiring the fountain.

Or.

The way you didn't let go of his hand the entire time. Maybe he did teach you well after all.

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Three months later

It seems like he saved your mental health from declining if he just lets you go out of the house once in a while.

You even learned how to respond to him.

You learned how to touch him.

To hold him.

To love him...

It was all he could ask for.

It took some time for the police to get off his back for the suspicion he has for kidnapping you (which isn't far from the truth)

He even had to make you hide in a secret room in his stupidly big mansion. You didn't know why you had to hide.

But atleast that got the police searching his house finally leave him be after several meetings and interoggations of him.

He finally can live in peace.

You became so good for him he decided to get you another cat.

This time you knew better and he loved you for it.

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Months gone by, possibly years, but atleast your finally content-ish with your life.

Not happy but tolerable.

You stopped pushing away and just give into his so-called "love"

Although Miguel might not always be happy with your lack of emotions nowadays , at least he has you by his side then his contented.

Miguel, on the other hand, feels joyous, true he doesn't find your lacklustre attitude too nice, but it's also true he has you with him.

With politicians, accusations and the damn police out of his back, he can finally go back to loving you.

And he can finally drop the act.

●●●●●

A/N: Hope u enjoyed, with this, I will go on a hiatus for while, I am unsure when I can be back since life has been pretty busy. I will also postpone my lastedt series so am sorry for that.

I am still thankful for your endless support.

Have a nice day everyone, ty for understanding

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njamil21 · 1 month

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And she's all out of bullets too...

Figured I'd try my hand at this meme, even if I'm a little late to the party haha! Sakura will always be my number one best gal, she's so precious to me and Lenore has become such a fast favorite with her wit and charm, I love her so much! But god, are their aesthetics so wildly different so the idea of putting them together in this meme had me cackling! It took me a while to figure out who would say what but I'm happy with how it turned out! This was so fun to draw and I hope you get a chuckle out of this too.

Please do not edit or repost without permission. (I edited my commission prices!)

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bardocks-tiddies · 29 days

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my abuser sibling is home for the holidays.

send cute pics of goku, bardock, and/or gine to make me feel better

(pls im crying and my anxiety meds aren’t helping)

#tw abuse #they’re not CURRENTLY abusive but they most certainly were in the past #and it doesn’t matter if they’re not currently threatening to murder me #because my brain has been thoroughly traumatized and deemed them a threat a long time ago

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keulixeutin · 1 year

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Tempered

a/n: ahhhh. a little self-indulgent. summary: tomura’s reaction to a nail technician—accidentally—nicking skin. shigaraki x gn!reader cw: gender neutral pronouns used, gn!reader. blood. swearing. threats of violence and murder. fluff, cuddling. maybe slight ooc-ness ugh. wc: 1,020.

“Did you know there’s, like, a lot of blood in your hands?” you announced as you entered Tomura’s room.

“What?” His head whipped around in his seat before the rest of the chair could even swivel.

“So, she cut my hand—”

“Who the fuck—”

When he stood up, red eyes pulsing, jaw tensing, fingers twitching for flesh to squeeze, you knew you needed to rephrase the scattered way you were speaking before you sent him over the edge and lit the fuse.

“Tomura,” you began, keeping your voice cool and calm. “I was talking about my nail technician. Remember I said I was getting my nails off today?”

His sharp, red eyes scanned your body for whatever worse-case scenario damages that his mind had thought up.

“She cut me with the drill bit,” you explained. “It was small—the cut—but it was still bleeding for a pretty long time. Hence the so much blood in the hands comment.” Tomura didn’t seem amused, so you quickly added on, “but it’s fine now.” To emphasize, you showed him your hand; the skin at the base of the nail of your left middle finger was red, and the spot where the technician had painfully ripped off skin made your cuticle an uneven line, like an inlet of an island.

He took your hand in his—pinky finger hovering safely—and eyed the tiny wound. His hand was cold, but his touch was warm.

The cut was, indeed, the tiniest, little thing. It had bled a lot earlier, and at one point, it had throbbed irritably from to the technician applying some chemical to help undo the acrylic glue; but, as you had said, it was fine now. You had just wanted to tell a small story about your day, though this was just another reminder that Tomura didn’t have the best reactions to—well, to news in general, especially if it was you and your spotty way of delivering it.

Once Tomura was satisfied that you weren’t tortured in the nail salon, he dropped your hand and sat back down. The game over screen glowed behind him, but his attention was on you.

Bomb defused, you closed the door behind you and set your bag down on the floor. You opted to keep the many layers of clothes on as you settled onto the bed. It was just as chilly inside the hide-out as outside, as the heater stopped working four days ago and no one knew how to fix it (and the back-up heater—Dabi—was getting violently annoyed that everyone kept hovering so closely to him, so that was an unusable plan b).

“Was it her first day?” Tomura asked.

“I don’t think so,” you answered. You curled comfortably under the frayed blankets and reached for the unfinished book you had left on the shoddy nightstand.

“Then how the hell did she cut you?”

You shrugged, dropping your gaze to where you had left off in your book. “Accidents happen,” you said offhandedly.

He didn’t respond, though, and when you didn’t hear even a grunt, you looked up to see him staring at your hand with a furious intensity.

“Tomura,” you said. “It’s fine.”

He glanced up at you, holding your gaze with his own glowing red. It didn’t seem like he was wanting to say anything; he looked like he was thinking, processing your words, deciding dark actions. You could probably guess at what he was itching to do. Then, without further words, he turned back around and picked up his fallen controller.

Later that night, when Tomura joined you under the covers, he grasped your hand and checked your injured finger once again, eyes narrowing.

“See?” you said. “All good.”

He didn’t say anything, letting go and laying his head down beside you. You smiled at him. He didn’t return it—he never did—but his face softened, eyelids drooping and jaw unclenching.

“Night,” you whispered.

“Mhm.” He closed his eyes.

But you knew him. You knew him well.

So in the middle of the night, when you felt a loss of warmth and a shifting bed, you knew to pull yourself from the sticky tendrils of a sweet sleep, and you knew that you’d see Tomura slipping out of the bedsheets in the dim dark and haze of slumber. You grabbed onto the hem of his shirt; he stilled, glancing back.

“You can’t kill a nail technician because she accidentally cut me,” you said, voice heavy with lingering tendrils.

“I can kill whoever I want,” he said, voice barely above a hiss.

“Then kill her tomorrow,” you said.

Tomura stared at you, both suspicious and curious.

You released your grip on the edge of his shirt and pulled the blanket closer around you. “I’m cold,” you said. “If you leave now, it’ll be even colder.”

“You’ll survive,” he said. “It’ll be quick.”

“It’s almost below freezing,” you remarked. “What if I lose some fingers and toes in the process?”

“You won’t.”

“But I sleep better with you here,” you continued. “Nice and warm and safe. And anyways, she’ll be there for you to kill any time. Why go hunting for her in the middle of the night when you know where she’ll be every day from 12 to 9? Right?”

Though Tomura didn’t respond, he didn’t move either—but you knew him. He was listening; your voice was cutting through the growing red of his eyes. You opened the blanket and urged him to come under the covers with your a waving hand.

“Hurry, Tomura,” you said when he still hadn’t moved. “You’re letting all the heat escape.”

He clicked his tongue in annoyance, but it was a hollow sound, just a habitual response. In the end, just as you had asked, he turned and lowered back down into your arms. You settled the blanket around him. His body heat spread throughout the space, and you shifted closer with a sigh. In the warm fabric embrace, you fell asleep, already having come up with a quick excuse and reason to keep him tempered for every day this week.

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rowiewritesstuff · 1 year

Note

YAN EARTHSPARK SPIDER?!?!?? PLES

Yandere TFE Tarantulas- The Possessive/Manipulative Yandere

Normally, this bot had a general distaste for humans. Most of them weren’t to be trusted. When he had first started his work at the cemetery he was sure that no humans would go to such a dreary place.

One day when he was returning with some materials, you were there. You had a small kit with you- a brush, a spray bottle, a bag, and some cloth. Gloves adorned your hands as you gently scrubbed at the tombstones.

He soon realized that you were cleaning the tombstones. Quietly, he went back into his lab. He hoped that you would go away, lest he have to take more serious measures. After a while, you left.

A week later, you returned. This time, you were cleaning the grave in which he made his lab. He was so focused on his work that he failed to see you enter.

“Ah, hello there. Is this your home? I’m sorry to bother you,” your gentle voice sounded. He quickly turned around. You had a blank look on your face as you looked at the spider bot.

He quickly stuck you to the ground with his webbing and skittered over towards you. “You will pay for entering my lab, human.”

“Ah. Okay,” you shrugged, leaving him stumped. All he could do was stare at you as you looked around his lab. A light sparkle shone in your eyes. “What are you working on?”

Tarantulas squinted at you. He was going through all of the consequences of telling you in his processor, before you spoke again. “Oh- are you working on some kind of projection? No- this is more advanced than that. Hmmm.”

His mandibles clicked lightly in shock. So you had some semblance of intelligence, unlike most humans. “It is a holomatter avatar. I haven’t been able to perfect it yet.”

“Ah. Sorry, I’d help if I could. As much as I like looking at science, I’m not too good at it.”

Tarantulas made a spur of the moment choice and cut you free of your webbed prison. You quickly moved over to the tech that he’d built, looking on with fascination.

Slowly but surely, you became his assistant. You knew some basics enough about tools and such that you could help him with minor things. He taught you as you helped him, too. You slowly became more knowledgeable to the point where you could make some suggestions to him.

Eventually, a few months had passed. His lab had grown, and so had his compassion for you. You were an intellectual like him- you could be made into a scientist like him.

You would stay longer and longer at his lab. Sometimes you’d be there for days on end, working away. Tarantulas had gotten you a bed for you to sleep on so that you wouldn’t have to leave as often.

Every time you would have to leave for food or work, he got frustrated. He wished you could stay here all the time- which gave him an idea.

“You don’t have to work, you know. You could live here, and I could provide you with anything you might need. I could get you all the money you’ll need, and anything you want.”

You looked up at him with sadness. You knew he was lonely when you weren’t there. “I’m sorry… but I have to work. I like to work. I love helping the animals.”

He scoffed at you, “Don’t you like to help me? Am I not enough?”

You frowned at him. “I don’t mean it like that. I just… I like my job. I don’t know where you’d get the money from, either. Stealing is wrong, you know.”

“It’s from G.H.O.S.T., so it shouldn’t matter. They’re a horrible organization. Stay here, with me! Every time you go out, it’s a bigger risk that I may be caught by them. Staying with me is safer.”

Even being a little emotionally stunted, you knew something was off with what he was saying. “Tarantulas, maybe I shouldn’t come by as often as I do, then. I have been falling behind on paperwork at my job. I’ll see you later.”

As you turned to leave, he jumped in front of you. “What do you think you’re doing? Do you really think I’d allow you to leave just like that? After everything I’ve done for you? I’ve taken care of you- I’ve given you a place to sleep, taken care of that rotten boss for you. You’re being selfish.”

Your eyes furrowed in confusion. Your boss? The one that had gone missing a month ago? “Tarantulas… you didn’t…”

“Oh. I did. You see, my dear, I’d do anything for you. Only I know what’s good for you. You’re a little lost right now- but such is the nature of a human. Don’t worry, I’ll guide you in the right direction. It’s my job as your teacher.”

You began to back up. There was a back entrance to this grave that you knew about. As soon as you moved to get away, your feet stuck to the ground. You collapsed to the ground with a grunt. Tarantulas had pinned you to the ground with his webbing. You reached for your pocket where your utility knife was held. Before you could reach it, another web pinned your entire upper body to the ground.

You looked up in fear as Tarantulas loomed over you. “Tarantulas! Let me go! You’re being…being… a monster!”

His mandibles clicked in anger and he webbed your mouth shut. He picked up your webbed form and wrapped you tightly in more web so that only your head peeked out. He placed you on the bed not-so-gently.

“Someday, you’ll see this is for your own good. Now, I’ll release you when I get back from my food run- since you clearly can’t be trusted to go by yourself.” Tarantulas stood at the exit before turning back to you, “If you somehow manage to escape, just know that I’ll pay those precious little animals a visit for you.”

Tarantulas then left the room, shutting the heavy rock door behind him.

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coockie8 · 10 months

Text

You know when something is just so buck fucking wild that you can't do anything but laugh?

That's me when antis will send me like entire novels worth of asks describing, in gory detail, exactly how they want to rape and murder me. How they want to cook me alive, and make me watch while they gut me. Over the fan fiction I write.

I'm not joking when I say I've actually used some of these asks as inspiration for my fics, because sometimes I can't come up with anything that comes anywhere near the level of fucked up of the things they fantasize about doing to me, a real human being.

Like damn, at least I'm just talking about pulling the fake limbs off a cartoon guy, while antis are out here, foaming at the mouth, having legitimate serial killer fantasies about some random online stranger who wrote/drew some fiction they dislike. And then sending those fantasies to that stranger!

But I'm the dangerous and unhinged one.

Somehow.

#tw: rape #tw: murder #tw: death threats #tw: violence #proship #proshipper #proshippers please interact #just anti things #anti bs

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vullabies-and-skeledirges · 2 months

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on one hand, picking a petty fight with (a version of?) Ghetsis Team Plasma seems like a really bad idea, even over the internet. on the otherrrr, he was threatening to put someone's skeleton on display and like. i bet he doesn't even know how to properly degrease and whiten a skeleton. i bet he/whoever he assigned to process skeletons doesn't even know you shouldn't use bleach :P

#fool that you are. your specimens will crumble from the harshness you drench them in and the ooze trapped within just as your empire did #threats tw #murder tw #(??? ask to tag)#bones tw #technically this was like. days ago. but whatever

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dyingstars-if · 1 year

Note

Hello! How would the ROs react to someone flirting with the MC in front of them? Both in the crushing stage and in the relationship stage (hoping for a strong reaction from my dear red flag Krios 👀)

hello!!

crushing -

krios: xe’s thought process is pretty feral, but xe would respect mc’s wishes. if you want the person dead, they’re dead. if you want them left alive…krios guesses xe can do that too.

rune: it depends on mc. if they seem okay with it, then so are they. if they seem uncomfortable, they’ll be inserting themself into the conversation and getting between the person and mc before anyone can blink. subtly insults the person as they shield you and give you the chance to make your escape.

ezlyn: their fangs itch and their claws feel as though they’re going to burst through at any moment, but they’re fine. they’re totally okay with what is happening in front of them. they absolutely do not care that someone else is flirting with you.

aren: they are unbothered, and they remain unbothered when the person’s body is discovered in a ditch the next day.

relationship -

krios: someone would have to have a lot of nerve (or more likely, a death wish) to flirt with mc in front of krios, the Monarch of the unseelie kingdom and known possessive bastard. if mc says xe can’t kill them, then krios will make them suffer another way. if they’re a member of the unseelie kingdom, they’ll be stripped of any titles and possessions, thrown to the streets, and never again allowed to step into the same room as xyr beloved. if they’re not, krios will have rumours started about them, and plant evidence of crimes so heinous on them that it gets them thrown under the prison.

rune: they trust you completely, so they remain unbothered if mc isn’t. however, if mc is bothered, then rune isn’t going to hold back. they will air out this persons dirty laundry for everyone to hear. “my Liege, i know you must be distraught at your husband running away with the gardener because he couldn’t bare to spend another moment with a leech like you, but, please, do learn some self control.” sweeps you away to somewhere quiet to check on how you’re doing.

ezlyn: they wrap their arms around mc’s waist and pull them closer as they send the person flirting with them a vicious glare. then a thought would occur to them and they’d school their face into something more pleasant. “ah my Liege, i overheard you talking to my partner about how strong you are, we could use people like you in our armies. perhaps i should put your name forward to our Monarch for conscription?” watches with smug satisfaction at how they pale.

aren: if someone flirted with mc in front of romanced!aren, that person would lose their tongue, and then their hands, and then their eyes, and then finally their life.

#answered #ro: krios #ro: rune #ro: ezlyn #ro: aren #difference between krios and aren #if mc says no killing to krios #xe listens #if mc says no killing to aren #they don’t #tw murder mention #tw threats #tw torture mention

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one-time-i-dreamt · 8 months

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An artist I follow was messaging me threatening to kill me if I didn’t commission them, but I didn’t have the money to do so. I woke up worried that they would break into my house for some reason.

#dream #text #August 28th 2023 #violence tw #threats #threatening #murder tw #death tw

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ashintheairlikesnow · 11 months

Note

I’m having a thought! So we all want to see Antoni smut cause we’re thirsty, but of course respectfully understand that he is Ace. But Artyom ….👀 OR Antoni remembers those things…. Endless possibilities there Ash

CW: At first NSFW for like... Four paragraphs, some initial consensual spice, more or less whumper POV in a way, death threats/murder, creepy whumper

Antoni allows no direct smut, Anon. This is as close as he will let me get.

Sweat trickles down the back of Artyom's neck, and his breath is hot and damp against hers. Her little cries are right against his ear, high-pitched. Her fingernails drag down his back, a little further with each rock of his hips.

He couldn't begin to describe how this feels. Hot, tight, wet - all the usual words come to mind but none of them are good enough.

Carly Riggs digs her nails so deep into his back he's sure he'll find blood later, whispering oh god oh god oh god as she comes. The way she goes tighter than ever around him, the prickle of pain near his shoulder blades, even just the way her voice sounds all overwhelms him and he follows her, eyes tightly closed as pleasure takes him.

The leather of her car's backseat sticks to his arms, his head nearly knocking into the door, but finally they slow and then stop, both of them breathing hard.

"Eto bylo khorosho," He groans. "Tak khorosho, tak korosho..."

Carly reaches one hand up to wipe the back of her hand across her forehead, smiling at him. It's a dopey expression, sweet and sated. He likes that look on her. "What?"

"Sorry. I mean... Very good. It was good." His accent is rougher just after sex, voice slightly breathless and rasping. He pulls back reluctantly, dropping a hand to dig around for his boxers and jeans. "We should do again sometime, see if I can be even better."

"Better than tonight?" Carly laughs, pushing herself up to seated, wriggle her jeans back up over her hips. "I might die."

"Only in little ways." He winks at her before pulling his shirt back on. "This is the idea, right?"

"Oh my god. Artyom, you are the weirdest." She's still grinning as he offers her a hand to scoot along the seat and finally stand. The breeze outside the car cools and dries the sweat on them both. Her hair is a rat's nest of tangles in the back, and they're both flushed and have a sheen of sweat. Not entirely subtle. "Are you sure you don't want to come to the party with me?"

"I am sure." He smiles, leaning back against the side of her car. She eases the door shut and follows suit, their elbows nearly touching. She yanks her tank top back down.

"Whenever somebody gets you to agree to a date, I bet you'll be an amazing boyfriend," Carly says, teasing and not-teasing.

"Maybe." He has no intention of dating anyone. Ever. But he doesn't say that to her. "Be safe at the party, eh?"

"Of course." She leans over to bump affectionately against him, as close as he allows to a goodnight kiss. "I'll see you at work on Tuesday, right? We both open that day."

"Da. You will see me then. Now I need to go inside. Keep off your lights until you are gone from my neighborhood, please."

"Just tell your mom to fuck off." Carly sighs, finger-combing her hair as best she can. "You're a fucking adult. Do what you want."

"Mmmn. Easier to say than to do."

It isn't his mother he is worried about getting a good look at Carly Riggs.

But he just gives her a hug, her perfume and the scent of them together a heady mix in the air, and opens her front door for her to settle inside and drive away, easing slowly down the road to make as little noise as she can.

His key in the lock makes only the slightest sound, and he oiled the hinges so the door never so much as squeaks. The house is dark and silent, the TV for once is off. He moves with perfect knowledge of every obstacle between him and his bedroom - avoiding the box of clothes for donating that has been sitting for three months now, his mother's little dog's pile of toys, even a kitchen chair out of place.

The vodka in the freezer pours easily into a shot glass, and he knocks it back to feel it freeze and burn, tasteless, down his throat.

Two more shots and the warmth spreads further than the cold, so he adds a little water to cover what he stole and puts it back, turning the bottle so the label is exactly the way it was when he came in..

He has long experience at this. His father will never know, never guess. The better for his health if his vodka turns more and more to simple water, anyway.

He showers, washing Carly off him as well as the smells of his job. When he checks the mirror after drying off and pulling on a pair of gray sweatpants, he sees - yes, scratches, with bright red spots where blood welled up, from just below his shoulder blades down nearly to his waist.

He smirks at the sight, but then realizes the bathroom door is open. His smile fades as his eyes raise.

Reflected in the mirror, Misha stares at him, expression somehow both empty and avid.

"... The bathroom is taken," He says, after a breath. His younger brother, head tipped against the doorframe and mop of hair falling over his eyes, smiles. It's thin, and it doesn't reach his eyes.

None of Misha's expressions ever reach his eyes.

"Got mauled by a tiger at work tonight?" Misha's voice is light. He makes a little claw gesture with one hand, fingers bent. "Rrrrow."

"Misha-"

"Which girl was it? The cute brown-haired one?"

Artyom turns away. "None of your business. Go back to bed." He wets a toothbrush and gets toothpaste, hoping to stave off the conversation long enough for Misha to lose interest.

At first, he thinks he might have succeeded. Misha disappears from the doorway, and Artyom makes his way to his bedroom in the dark. His father's snores are deafening, down the hall. His mother will be sleeping in the guest room, and even if she snores, too, it would be impossible to hear it over his father.

He pads barefoot over the hardwood floor until he heads into his room, letting the door close behind him and collapsing onto his twin-sized bed with his feet hanging off the end. He can hear Misha's television in his room going through their shared wall, low murmuring voices.

There's a beat of silence. Artyom takes a deep breath, holds it for a beat, slowly exhales. Outside, the breeze shivers the leaves into a soft rustle. His clock reads past midnight, but if both his parents are asleep already, they won't know to bother him about it.

Not that anyone ever minds when Misha misses curfew, but if Tyoma is late, oh, let hell rain down...

He groans and rolls onto his side, pulling the covers up. He can feel bitter tomorrow. Besides

"The blonde, then?"

Artyom shoots upright with his heart in his throat, eyes briefly wide. "Chto za khren', Misha!"

His brother is a shadow in the corner, leaning against the wall with his hands in his jeans pockets, shoulders hunched.

Smiling.

In the dark, he has only even deeper shadows for eyes.

"Tell me which girl it was, Tyoma."

"I... Why?" His heart pounds, and he scoots until his back hits the wall, watching as Misha pushes lazily away from the wall and takes the two or three strides he needs to drop into the computer chair Artyom keeps next to his desk. No computer, but maybe one day. If he can save up.

"Because I want to know, dumbass." Misha laughs, leaning over. There has always been something strange about his laugh. "I want to know who's out there stealing my brother's heart."

"No one is." It's an honest answer. "Not sure I even have one to steal, Mishka." Less honest. But his voice is still too airy, and he can tell Misha enjoys the idea that he has frightened him. "It's just... friends with benefits. Da?"

"Is it?" Misha scoots the chair closer, clicking over the boards on the floor. Artyom feels strangely trapped, even though he could push Misha back and run. But he doesn't. His brother won't hurt him.

Not yet.

"It is." He drops his voice even further. "I promise, Mishka. There is no one outside the family. No one."

"No one but me." Misha is inches from him, his knees touching the side of Artyom's bed. Now light from outside, dimly white, glimmers over his dark eyes. "Right? Right, Tyoma? Family first."

"Right." Tyoma meets his gaze. Misha's eyes are like dead things, empty marbles in a moving face. "Family first. No one is more important than family."

"Right. And I'm your family. Me. So you can't run off to screw people if it means not taking care of me, right? If you get some girlfriend-"

"I don't even want one." Artyom cuts him off. Misha leans even closer, somehow. And there's a glint, a sheen of moonlight off metal. His little brother is holding a knife. "Carly and I are just friends who, who fool around sometimes."

"Carly, then." Misha's smile widens, like a skull's rictus grin. "The blonde. I figured."

Artyom winces, internally. But all he does is swallow the lump in his throat and nod. "Da, Mishka. She has a boyfriend at college. This is just for fun."

"Khoroshiy, Tyoma."

The silence draws out, and then Misha moves in almost a lunge forward and upright. Artyom flinches back, but Misha only ruffles his hair, giggling like he used to do when they were kids and he would push other children down the slide before they were ready.

"Relax. You are my family, too, Tyoma." He pats the side of Artyom's face. The knife in his other hand disappears back into a pocket, closed up into harmlessness again. "Family first."

"Family first," Artyom whispers.

Misha turns and leaves, closing the door behind him.

Artyom doesn't fall asleep until it's nearly dawn.

A week later, Misha calls him for help, and he spends the night digging a grave in the woods, just deep enough to cover two bodies with pine needles and fallen leaves without it being obvious. It takes hours, and his arms burn, muscles screaming for him to stop. He ignores the pain.

Misha helps, which he doesn't usually do. He digs, too, his eyes locked on Artyom's face. The dead bodies mean nothing, now. They've served their purpose.

"They're both pretty," Misha says idly. "Good luck I found them, huh?"

Artyom grunts.

"Hey. Tyoma." Misha snaps his fingers and Artyom looks up. Misha is only a couple feet away. He has the same look on his face as he had in Artyom's room the other night.

"Don't see her again outside of work, Tyoma. Don't. You don't need friends. You have me."

"... Mishka-"

"Don't 'Mishka' me. I said don't hang out with Carly Riggs anymore unless I'm with you. Okay?"

"... Yeah."

"Say you won't. Say it out loud. I can finish this myself, you know."

Artyom thinks of the knife Misha keeps, one he never uses on anyone else. He knows that knife is for him.

Artyom's heart pounds all over again, exertion and a dim terror beneath. "... I will not hang out with Carly without you."

"Good. Let's finish this up."

He goes back to digging, and Artyom follows suit, trying not to look too hard at the bodies.

A couple Misha saw in a bar and wanted to destroy. So he did. And now Artyom buries them for him, as always. Because his mother's heart would shatter if her youngest son was caught doing such evil things.

Because he knows what he must do to protect the brother who has been the center of his life since his birth. The brother who will one day, he thinks, be the center of his death, too.

He feels Misha's eyes on him like a brand as he dumps shovels of dirt over the open dark, slightly feline eyes and messy dark hair of the man. The tangled blonde hair and bright blue eyes of the woman. She has a t-shirt on from the restaurant where Artyom's been working.

It isn't a coincidence. It's a message, and Artyom understands.

Family first.

Or else.

#whump #box boy universe #antoni sings lullabies #artyom #burying a body #murder #death #horror fiction #misha the serial killer #some consensual spice #death threats tw #creepy whumper #sadistic whumper #obsessive whumper #whumpers #bbu #mmmmmn backstory whump #consensual spice tw

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ursbee · 2 months

Text

I’m so drunk right now I just want to be abused

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surplus-of-sarcasm · 10 months

Text

Snippet #25

TW: Blood, murder, implied torture, threats, lady whump, somewhat graphic description of. . .murder

"Did you think you would get away with this?" Supervillain asked, voice eerily calm, posture completely relaxed as she stacked paper in neat piles on her desk.

Everything in that office, much like the master criminal herself, was pale and almost completely devoid of life. The only detail that stood out was Villain, handcuffed to a smaller table in her shredded mess of clothes, haphazard, dark, crimson stains all over her body, some even scattered across the floor.

"Maybe," the villain answered nonchalantly. She may have looked bored out of her mind, but just because she wasn't sobbing and snivelling, didn't mean she wasn't scared. She'd seen first-hand what the supervillain did to people who so much as dared to stare at her wrong. Her broken ribs weren't even the start of whatever she had planned for her.

Supervillain wasn't particularly merciful to her enemies, but to traitors, she could have rivalled the Devil himself in cruelty. The way she regarded the younger criminal, with an insatiable hunger in her eyes, the only expression her stone-hard face betrayed, it made the villain's stomach twist into impossibly tight knots.

The supervillain got up from her chair, sauntering towards her like she had all the time in the world, which, in all honesty, she did. She crouched down to the villain's level, cupping her jaw with her hand. "I'm going to tear screams out of your pretty, little throat you never even knew you could produce. I'll leave everlasting marks on you. I'll make you unrecognisable," she whispered, their lips almost brushing her former subordinate's ear, making her heart pound like a jack rabbit's.

The sick irony was that the villain knew all too well what would happen to her, every gruesome detail of her future torment engraved in her mind as though it was somewhere in the recent past. Like the city's designated Queen of Crime had told her, the price of being a villain and showing kindness to a hero was too expensive for her to afford.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" Supervillain questioned, almost mildly agitated, as she fisted her fingers through the villain's hair, pulling harshly on its strands.

"I know you like hearing the sound of your own voice so much, so I didn't want to ruin that for you with mine," she shot back, staring straight into her former superior's eyes, trying her hardest to keep their jaw clenched, to stop all of the negative emotions from being written all over her beaten face. She knew the bastard would literally lick any vulnerability that dripped off her from the floor, like an addictive drug she could get high on, and as long as the villain could avoid breaking (because she knew she would break as long as the master criminal had her way), she wouldn't give her that chance.

The supervillain slapped her backhanded, and the villain wished to curse the fact that she was interested in history; it was how the Romans would strike an inferior. Arguably, the blow to her ego was more painful than the stinging across her cheek.

Supervillain rose up again, Villain despising how she towered over her. The master criminal took her sweet time picking up a shiny blade lying on her desk, hypocritically pristine at the moment, even with its blood-soaked history. "I'm not going to kill you, Villain. You don't deserve death," she spat.

"You're right. She doesn't. You on the other hand? A whole new story," a silky voice called out.

Supervillain didn't even get the chance to react before Hero ripped the knife out of her hand, tossing it to the side. He let out a completely inhuman growl, thrusting the master criminal against the wall. The hero's normally watery blue eyes turned a bold crimson, and his lips parted to reveal a pair of sharp, glistening fangs. The normally perfectly manicured nails wrapped around the supervillain's neck morphed into claws as the crime-fighter sank his canines into the master criminal's neck, draining her of most of her blood.

Even when Supervillain fell to the ground, the scarce amount of colour having been drained out of her face, the crime-stopper bit into somewhere near the ribs, letting out a purely animalistic snarl. Hero tore through skin and vessels with no restraint, writing his fury all over her mangled corpse, if you could even refer to that gory mess as a corpse anymore.

By the time the hero was done exacting his bloody revenge, the supervillain's office was almost entirely crimson now. When Hero's gaze met the villain's, his eyes returned back to their normal azure, his arched posture relaxing as he got up. He wiped at the blood dripping from his lips with his hand almost shamefully.

"Sorry you had to see that," he attested, eyes downcast as he undid the villain's handcuffs with a lockpick that was in his pocket.

"Are you kidding?" the criminal asked, eyes widening incredulously, "that was literally one of the hottest things I've seen in a long time."

It wasn't simply a compliment to make the hero feel better; the villain wholeheartedly believed it. The way the crime-fighter moved, graceful and effortless, how even when he was at the absolute maximum of his rage, he still had complete control over the supervillain in his death grip. Maybe the villain's tastes were a little convoluted, but there was something entirely attractive about watching Hero give in to his monstrous side and rip through her tormentor like she was made of paper.

Yet when the hero lifted her up into a bridal carry, the strong arm around her waist couldn't be gentler. He brushed her sticky, matted hair out of her eyes tenderly. The vampire's fingers were cold, but to the villain's burning skin, the coolness felt like heaven.

"You okay?" the hero asked, wincing at how stupid the question must have sounded. After all, the villain looked like death had touched every inch of her, merciless and absolutely painful.

But the criminal still managed to smile at him and nod, her cracked lips bleeding in the process. The vampire frowned a little at that, brushing his fingertips across the villain's lip to wipe the blood away, making her heart beat unbearably fast, a fact made even worse by the fact that she knew he could easily notice, thanks to the supernatural hearing.

In contrast to Villain's absolutely pitiful state, the immortal hadn't even broken a sweat after murdering the supervillain. Even the bloodstains on the hero's dark t-shirt couldn't desecrate his beauty, perfect porcelain skin, and a stunningly toned figure his simple clothes failed to hide.

The villain had gotten so lost in every tasteful detail that made up the work of art that was her hero, that she almost hadn't noticed that he wasn't even wearing a mask. "Do you realise you're not hiding your identity?" she blurted out all of a sudden, her eyes going wide with concern.

"If I want to remain as one of this city's heroes, which I do, I can't do stuff like this. But to be honest, I actually didn't notice. All I gave a damn about was finding you," he replied, shifting the villain in his hold for a more comfortable position.

That did it. Something in the villain snapped, and she wasn't even sure when she'd pressed her lips to the hero's jawline in a passionate kiss. Before, it had been their hands brushing against one another in accidental touches that lasted a bit too long, fleeting glances at each other's forms, soft smiles that spoke a thousand words; all things they never spoke of, pretended not to notice. This; however, was something the villain could not take back, the meaning crystal clear, as her piercing gaze met the hero's own.

Hero's cryptic resting face melted away, and there was absolutely no mystery to the expression on his face right now; lips parted, eyes wide, as he tried to breathe in air he absolutely didn't need. "Why did you keep me waiting for so long, love?" he purred, letting his gorgeous lashes fall against his skin as he closed his eyes, kissing the villain's cheekbone and stroking her neck, the undead's cool touch still feeling like fire was eating at her skin, like pure euphoria was coursing through her veins.

"I never knew if you shared the sentiment." She kept an arm wrapped firmly around the hero's neck, toying with loose strands from where his hair started to grow, feeling a lot like dark silk between her fingertips.

"You're not scared of me? Nothing I do changes the fact that I'm a monster," the crime-fighter admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, his demeanour sobering up as he pulled away slightly.

"A monster that saved my life. A monster that's saved the lives of millions. And still, I'm a villain, Hero. My hands will never be clean. My demons will continue to haunt me. But here you are, putting all that aside and looking for whatever remains of a person left inside of me."

"And besides," the villain crooned, letting her voice drop to a velvety tone that only the hero would ever hear, "you're absolutely ravishing, sweetness."

The hero grinned, exposing his gleaming fangs, lighting up his face in a manner that took the villain's breath away. "Let's get you fixed up, amore." He pressed kisses to his new lover's bruised fingers, looking at her like she was nothing short of a masterpiece.

Love is a lot like wildflowers, growing in even the most unlikely conditions, unfazed by even the most arduous of challenges. It tests limits that are meant to be harder than diamond, takes control of a person like every fibre of their being lived and moved for it.

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ravenzeppeli · 2 months

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Chapter 4- Not Adjusting Well |La Squadra x Reader|

Warning: strong language, murder (random guy), blood, physical abuse, threats. MA.

Risottos POV

"We're only taking you with our team so that you'll be safe," Risotto began, his tone low as he spoke to you. This was a serious matter.. a rival gang threatened to do something he rather not even think about to you in hopes of pissing off Risotto and his men, but Melone caught wind of the men's plan and only was able to capture and kill one of the men.

Usually, Risotto would leave you at the base with someone. on some occasions, he even left you here by yourself due to how closed off their hideout was. This was a completely different situation thought. These men who wanted to hurt you were rival gang members. Fucking noobs at that, rookies that wanted to move up. They made a very foolish mistake.

"What the fuck is wrong with those fucking cock suckers!?" Melone snapped, kicking the limp dead body of the man he captured. "Trying to touch what's ours!? What doesn't belong to them!? She's ours, I'll rip them all apart!" Melone was always composed, this was the first time Risotto had ever seen Melone snap so badly.

The dead man that laid at Melones feet was in terrible shape, all of his fingers and both of his arms bent and twisted in odd angles. Pieces of his teeth and blood splatters were scattered all over the base, his face beaten unrecognizable. Blood dripped from Melones knuckles, bruised and bloodied. This man.. he didn't die from stand use or a gun, Melone beat this guy to death after getting a small amount of information out of him.

Risotto found himself a little impressed at how Melone handled the situation, him being the most careful and calculated of his men. Beating someone to death was something that Illuso or Ghiaccio pulled, Melone always waited to attack when he had no other choice, using his stand from behind the scenes. It seemed as if Melone had no self-control when it came to protecting you, which was good. Risotto wanted you alive, safe, and serving your purpose to be the equivalent of a wife to the men.

You seemed to be fine about the situation, despite being with Melone when they targeted you. Then, when Melone started to torture the male, you seemed to be.. entranced, it seemed as if you couldn't look away from the violence. It fascinated you to watch blood splatter all over the floor. You still seemed to be staring at the dead man, causing Illuso to place his hand on your knee, his large hand squeezing your thigh.

"Okay," you finally replied, seeming to be fine with the idea. You stood up, moving your thigh away from Illusos' hand as you made your way over to Melone. "Relax, he's dead. Why do you need to keep kicking him? Just calm down a little." You placed your hand just above Melones stomach, gently pushing him back.

You cared about Melone. It was clear that you already had feelings for him, feelings that started to make Risotto feel confident that you could be fully trusted. He didn't trust you yet, feeling as if you would run away and leave them or ruin his reputation and kiss another capo in public. He knew you wouldn't rat them to the cops, knowing you were a criminal and had a negative reputation of being 'an annoying cunt' to the cops. He didn't know what you did to get that reputation, you weren't one to speak much about your life. With you loving and trusting one or more of them you'll never leave, and Risotto was proud of Melone.

Proud of him for loving you may sound silly, but his love seemed to be a different kind of love than what he's ever heard of or witnessed. Melone followed you, he watched you, he went through your phone and your laptop when you weren't around, he did what the other men didn't. Prosciutto watched you, and Formaggio seemed to be helping you adjust, but Melone took everything a step further. Honestly, with Melone around and obsessed with you, you would never be able to run away or disappear - Melone would find you.

"I love you, I fucking love you! I can't let you get hurt, don't you understand!? I'll kill anyone that tries to fucking hurt you!" Melone snapped as he walked backwards, reacting to you pushing him back towards the kitchen. "Wait until I catch those others!"

Formaggio stood directly in front of the dead body, leaning against the wall as he seemed to be looking away from the body. "Ew, he pissed his fuckin' pants, we have dead piss and blood everywhere!" He shook his head as he kept his head turned away, reaching his hand up to pinch his nose. "He wouldn't even let me get a hit in, for fucks sake."

"How about we focus on getting your hands cleaned up first?" You questioned as you pushed him into the kitchen, the two of you vanishing from Risottos sight.

"We can't let nobody try and fuck and kill our pussy, they're trying to disrespect us," Illuso snapped as soon as you left the room, shaking his head as he looked over at Risotto. "They see she's a hot piece of ass and they want her. And if anyone's gonna kill her, it'll be us."

Risotto slammed his hand down on the coffee table, his eyes cutting into Illuso. "Stop saying that we are never going to have to kill her. She isn't the type to betray. Don't let that come out of your mouth. If she hears you say that she may run away, and I don't feel like chasing her down." Suddenly, his voice got lower as he looked around at his men, immediately being the type to tell his men exactly what was on his mind.

"Despite all of you agreeing, I know you have your certain doubts about Y/N. I know she's not very.. listen, she's attractive, she's taking care of or going to take care of all of you. If you aren't going to respect her, that's fine, but realize that she's a part of this team," Risotto spoke, causing Ghiaccio to suddenly look up, his dark eyes narrowing. "She may be beneath all of us, but she has skills, and she seems to be very okay with our violent lifestyle. Protecting her is just one small price of the things that she does and will be doing for us."

"She does suck my dick really well," Illuso said, nodding his head. "Alright, I got you, boss. I wouldn't actually kill her, I was speaking metaphorically. Swear on my dear dead mother." He raised his hand, saluting Risotto.

Risotto raised his eyebrows. After Risotto, Illuso was second when it came to physical strength, being one of his strongest men when it came to combat. Illusos' past military experience tied in with his strength and stand made him a valuable member of the team. He's just very annoying and a raging alcoholic, but when you're an assassin, you end up developing some kind of issue. Risotto cared deeply about all his men, willing to look past all their flaws because he knew that they were all loyal and hardworking.

"Let's hurry up and get a move on then, Pesci is pulling up with the white van in 10 minutes," Ghiaccio spoke sharply as he closed his laptop. "Who's staying behind? The body needs to be disposed of. I don't mind staying back." It was clear that Ghiaccio did not like you, having no interest in you at all.

"We can just shrink him and freeze him, shatter his body, and dump him in the middle of the ocean," Formaggio added in, already forming a plan. "I'll stay back with him. I'm sure we can get rid of the body pretty quickly."

Just as he said that Melone entered the room, his once bloodied hands bandaged up. You followed behind, stopping next to the dead body, leaning down as you reached your arm out. "Hey," Melone spoke to you with light authority in his voice. "Put the tooth down. You can not have it. I told you not to look or touch, come on now."

You muttered something low that Risotto didn't quite catch as you stood up, cutting Melone a look that he couldn't really describe, perhaps a mix of amusement and annoyance? "What if I need a new tooth?" You questioned, sarcasm thick in your tone.

"Yeah I hear you, mhm," Melone replied, grabbing your hand as he led you to the living room, keeping a tight hold on your hand. "These fucks.. that bastard said that they're fleeing south. They're dead."

"Pesci just texted me. Let's go ahead and get a move on," spoke Risotto as he stood up.

-----

Your disobedience to simple orders was beginning to piss both Prosciutto and himself off. Risotto told you that during the night, you needed to stay upstairs, yet here you are at 2 in the morning up and downstairs. They were staying at a rented house in the middle of nowhere, and they haven't found the men that want to kill you yet. Why the fuck won't you just listen?

As Risotto and Prosciutto opened the kitchen door, heavy smoke hit their face, the strong scent of weed hitting them like a brick. You sat at the counter in the rental, a gun in your hand and a joint in the other. You turned towards them, heavy bags under your eyes. "I'm sorry."

Prosciutto shook his head, "Clearly, if you're apologizing, then you know you're doing something wrong. Why couldn't you have done this upstairs?" He walked over to you, grabbing the gun out of your hand. "Why do you have this? Neither Risotto nor I gave you a gun."

"It's Illusos, I took it," you told Prosciutto, causing Risotto to shoot you a glare. "My life is over now. This isn't fair. Do you know how hard this is? I shouldn't be dating all seven of you."

Risotto approached you, sitting next to you. "I'm being very lenient with you because I truly feel like you aren't acting out on purpose. I do understand you may feel a little uncomfortable or scared, but you need to learn how to listen and stay in your place." He kept his voice low, not planning on raising a hand to you or yelling. "You are protected and cared for. The least you could do is fucking listen. You're always supposed to listen to Prosciutto and I."

Risotto was coming to realize that you were extremely unpredictable. He could never guess or assume what you're about to say based on your emotions because most of the time, your face lacked any emotion. You kept a straight poker face, hardly ever smiling or showing any soft emotions. You wouldn't even kiss Melone back or hold Formaggios' hand - you were hard to figure out, partly why Risotto doesn't really punish you. You seemed to listen to the important things. You seemed like you were starting to be fully with them, but you clearly hated having to listen to rules, especially ones given to you by Prosciutto.

"You should have just killed me. I'd rather be dead," you replied, causing Prosciutto to raise his hand immediately, smacking you across the face with light force. "See? Just fucking kill me."

Risotto noticed that you seemed to not care about your life much, not taking care of yourself properly. He truly felt that if he let you go that night, you really would be dead. How could someone as weak as you protect herself from gangsters? The fact that you survived so long selling drugs on Lucas block surprised Risotto. The mob doesn't take too kindly to a woman being in a man's place. How did you get away with it? Why was he the only capo to realize your abilities and take you?

Prosciutto sighed, slapping you again, this time with a little more force, causing you to turn your body away from him, your hair hiding your face. "Don't you ever fucking talk like that. You understand me? I'm 2 seconds away from taking my belt off. Want me too? Do you want me to fucking beat you?" He questioned, his arm suddenly wrapping around your waist. "You need to start adjusting before my belt adjust you."

"Y/N," Risotto spoke, causing you to immediately look at him. "You killed those men that were attacking me for a reason. This was all.. meant to happen. You were destined to be ours, and if you trust you'll be taken care of. Doesn't Melone make you happy?" He questioned, softening his voice. Maybe he could try and manipulate you, but truth was in his words. He wasn't lying to you.

You raised your hand, and Risotto knew what you were going to do - you were about to smack the shit out of Prosciutto, causing Risotto to immediately grab both of your hands. If you smacked Prosciutto, he would beat you. He was not the kind of man you hit back. "Keep hitting me, and I'll hit you back," you suddenly snapped, causing Prosciutto to raise his eyebrows at you. "Fuck you Prosciutto."

"I am not hitting you to hurt you, I am just doing my job as your boyfriend and disciplining you. You need to be taught right from wrong. This isn't a normal situation," Prosciutto spoke to you, his tone surprisingly soft. "Listen, if you're not listening to rules that will keep you safe, then you will get spanked or in trouble with me. Attempting to fight me back will only make your situation worse. Can't you see I want you safe? If I have to spank you and slap you to keep you safe, I will."

You tried to pull your hands away from Risottos, causing his grip to tighten. "Okay, I can admit that I did say yes and agree to all of this. It's just.. having my freedom taking away and dating all seven of you is hard. You know.. Illuso," you stopped, suddenly looking down. "Melone is great, and Formaggio is okay, but everyone else.. it's not working. Also, if you can spank me, then shouldn't I be able to spank you?"

Risotto had known Prosciutto for a very long time, both men being born and raised in the mafia. In all his years of knowing Prosciutto, this was the first time he saw him let out a genuine, full of amusement laugh.

Prosciutto removed his arm from around you, amusement spreading all over his face as he suddenly turned away, hiding his face as he began letting out a deep chuckle. "You know.. you're really cute Y/N, that was an adorable joke," he replied, tone suddenly light and filled with amusement. "I've been alive for over 40 years and I've never heard that one before. You have such a silly little head."

You blinked, seeming to be confused, but you suddenly began to nod your head. "Well, I'm glad my joke could make you laugh." As Risotto let your hands go, you immediately put your hand on Prosciuttos' shoulder, causing him to turn around to face you. "I.. will do better with listening, I guess. But I don't like being hit in the face."

Prosciutto nodded, "I should refrain from hitting you in the face." He stood up, your hand falling to your side as he towered over you. The amusement from his face suddenly gone - just like that, he was serious again. "The next time you're bad and not listening to Risotto or myself, then you'll be over my knee. Understand? As your boyfriend, I am allowed to do this. The man is the leader, and the woman follows. I don't give a fuck about you listening to the others, they can take that up with you yourself. I won't get involved because that's their business, but Risotto is your capo and I'm second in command on top of you being ours. Remember that."

He raised his hand, rubbing your cheek, the cheek that he slapped before he nodded his head at Risotto. "Goodnight, Y/N.. when Risotto goes upstairs, so do you, and you only come down here if someone is with you. If you fail to listen, you're getting spanked with a switch." He turned away, heading back up the stairs before you could reply.

"I wasn't telling a joke," you finally said to Risotto after a few moments of silence. "You know.. Prosciutto, he.. he just.. whatever fine." You sighed.

Risotto suddenly remembered that you took Illusos gun to sit down here, causing him to cross his arms over his chest. "I'm being lenient on you. Do you really want to get into trouble with me? I promise you, you do not want me angry with you."

"Are you going to kill me?" You questioned, causing Risotto to tilt his head to the side, glaring. Why do you think that? He's never once hurt you. Even when bringing you to the base, he was gentle. "Mafia men don't take care of their women. They beat them and do bad things to them until they eventually get bored and kill the girl. I bet I'm not the first. I bet I'm the replacement, Melone will turn on me soon."

It was clear that you had a fucked up head, all of the things that you said were not true about him or his men. He was close to smacking you but when he looked in your eyes he saw something.. he saw a glimpse of softness, a glimpse of you actually opening up to them. Aside from Melone you were making no progress with any of the men, despite it being a month since you've joined. Formaggio and Prosciutto tried to take on a boyfriend role with you multiple times but you keep trying to distance yourself. Risotto needed to pull you back in- he needed to prove to you that you were a permanent member. He had a lot of thinking to do.

"Stop speaking nonsense. All of those things are untrue." Risotto grabbed Illusos gun, placing it in his pocket. "Come on, let's go back upstairs. I don't want you down here alone again, so you won't be." He grabbed your hand, holding it to attempt to act like he was a boyfriend to you, which was difficult for Risotto because he's never been a boyfriend before. He's always been too busy with work, only ever getting pussy if he paid for it (six times - very awkward and heavily protected sex, he always stayed fully dressed) so he was fucking clueless. He needed to sit and figure something out fast.

You sighed, hesitating before you wrapped your hand around his, following him upstairs.

#tw threats #tw blood #tw murder #tw physical abuse #tw death #tw mature #tw strong language #tw adult themes #tw abuse #ravenzeppeli #jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #la squadra #tw language #la squadra claimed #claimed la squadra #claimed

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