#it's too soon to go cutting open scars on a man who never lets himself grieve if he can help it

[starzshopoflove]

Sweetness

(Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader)

Notes: fem reader! i hc ghost doesn't wear a mask when he's off duty, this is just whatever rot my mouse brain creates.

WC: 2.3k

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Ghost has been weird lately—really weird. He’s not yelling at recruits; he’s not entertaining Soap's stupid arguments; he doesn't get irritated as quickly; and more noticeably, he’s been far more brutal on the field.

Ghost never hesitated to use himself as a shield, letting himself take the pain he thought they didn't deserve. He still did, but now it was different; he was a wall of muscle, but now he pushed for them to get out of fire asap. He’d kill the enemy with more prejudice, like they had already killed his most cherished friends. The look in his eyes was more wild; the adrenaline in his blood was more like fire than it was chemical. Pumping around his big body, he chanted “Protect, Protect, Protect,” which he liked much more than when it used to say “Kill Kill Kill.”

They always loved Ghost as the no-nonsense in-and-out man on the field, the one who always puts others before himself during missions, a man who'd welcome death with open hands if it meant the rest of 141 would live. They loved Simon, the man on base without the skull of a man hiding him, the one who wore a less scary baklava, the man with scars and cuts on his face when they went to the pub, the man with horrible jokes, the man who'd make the base's shitty tea somewhat edible. Simon was different too. Simon ate faster, talked a little more, and rushed to get alone as soon as he could, locking his door and not letting anyone in past dark.

Price got tipped off when he saw the little line of white peeking out of one of his vest pockets on the chopper back to base after the whole Las Almas mission. Short square over his heart under the flag that he proudly wore on his vest. He couldn't see the photo, of course, but he could tell what it was.

A captain should know everything about his force—their past, present, and future. Price knew his past and possibly knew more about his present when they weren't on duty. He knew Simon had shifted flats, moving closer to the city center, when Simon told him to update his address on his off-base database file in order to get any checks or documents for future missions. Simon didn't tell him why. Price assumed probably better rent, or maybe he was sick of the shitty neighborhood he once resided in, or maybe he was sick of walking a half hour for groceries.

Price was getting an itch—an itch he didn't like. Price hated not knowing; of course everyone was entitled to a private life, but not when it put him off.

He felt dirty snooping in Simon's office, betraying his lieutenant's trust. He waited until Simon went back to his quarters, slipping in and shutting the door behind him. Nothing felt different, and nothing looked different either. The burning fluorescent lights flickered every now and then, but the air was still stale. No photos, no knicknacks on his desk, bare. Absolute bare, devoid of any personality, anything that would tell you about him, anything you could use against him had the enemy invaded the base.

Pacing around the room, Price checked under the desk and in the drawers twice. He winced at the squeak of the steel on the wheels and how loud it sounded. He snooped through documents, flicking through them quickly, only seeing the same pen and paper against the Manila folders. His eyes scanned the room again and again, only making him bubble and sigh in frustration, running his hand through his hair and gripping his hat in the other.

He stared at the metal closet, almost like it was staring back. Open me. Open me. I have what you want. As if it were beckoning him to spill every secret inside. Everyone had the same one. No one liked opening it; doing that meant leaving, meant war, and meant more time on the field. The field where you were going to get killed or killed, feeling less human every time you shoot. You welcome the gnawing, snarling, vapid ache that takes up all the space in your lungs when you try to breathe when you open that closet.

He hesitated at first, turning the little lock handle before opening the door gently, trying not to focus on the squeaking. Everything stared back, and Ghost stared back. The mask, once plain fabric, is now soaked in years of war; the blood of war dogs saturated it, and the skull of a man no one knew was tightly bound to it.

Grim, dirt, and filth

Guns that had killed more men than one could say, knives clean but still holding the smell of iron and sweat, boots with soles dirtied with soil and dust, and his vest Almost the same one wore the UK flag stitched neatly on with the same little rectangle shape pressed behind, right over the heart.

He wanted to shut the door, he wanted to leave, and he wanted to do everything that would allow him to pretend nothing happened and that he was never in here. He didn't, justifying in his mind that he was doing the right thing.

I'm not doing anything wrong

Unhooking the vest from the inside holding it in his hands, heavy.

I'm just worried

He set the vest flat on the desk, burning holes into it with his eyes.

I just want to know whats happening

His hands almost shook, sliding 2 fingers in the pocket, a soft grip on the polaroid, a feeling that confirmed everything he thought on the heli.

I'm doing this for you

The photo was small, almost choking him when he saw it. When he saw you, A big, bright smile pulled on a young woman's face—a toothy smile you only make when you're in love. Your eyes shut so tight, your hair is messy from the wind, framing your face so delicately, and the big bouquet in your hands is held so tightly that the stems may have bent. You were beautiful, no doubt, but his eyes lingered over to the man next to you before they glanced down at the writing in the ink pen.

Simon and I, 2.6. Manchester flower festival

Simon was staring at you in the photo, not even bothering to pay attention to the camera. Even if the photo wasn't high quality, anyone could see his eyes melting at the sight of you, how relaxed his shoulders were, and the crease next to his eyes from how he was smiling. Simon was smiling, not grinning or smirking like he does after everyone groans at his awful joke; he was smiling like he'd won the powerball.

Swallowing his pride and shame, he carefully tucked the photo back in and just as cautiously put it back. Backing out of the office, he could feel every question creeping up from the back of his brain.

“Who is she?" “What was her name?”

“How old was she?”  “What does she do?”

“Does she know?"

He pushed his thoughts back down, shaming himself for suspecting anything about Simon, mentally noting to sneak him some better quality tea as a silent apology.

___

Simon isn't stupid. He can tell they're all being weird.

Is he going to ignore it? Absolutely. 

They’re all cramped up in the corner of the shitty pub booth, drinking the shitty beer, and having a shitty night. Waiting for the night before leave starts is both exciting and irritating; each of them is counting down the seconds until they're home, be it alone or with family. Anything is better than a night on their cot in a cold, soulless room on base.

Simon was letting his skin breathe, finally taking off his plain balaclava when they were far enough off base to nurse his pint while the ball of his foot anxiously bounced his leg. He needed to be home, needed to be with you, needed to hold you; he just needed you. Inside his head, he was practically foaming at the mouth, snarling at himself, trying to make every second go by faster than it should so he could finally get his fix.

While he wasn't showing it, he couldn't hide the impatience basically seeping out of his pores, eyes hazed and uninterested in anything around him, his mind drowning out the sounds of the group's conversation with all the noise in the pub combining into a numbing chatter. He was so lost in his own head that he couldn't hear soap talking to him until he felt an elbow on his side.

“Awright? a'm talking tae ye?” 

“Sorry. Say it again”

Bad choice. Soap had that stupid look on his face, a teeth-baring grin with his eyebrows slightly turned up, like he knew something he shouldn't. That alone made his eyes move on Gaz next to him, then Price. Gaz looked constipated, brows furrowed together, nostrils flared as he focused on his own pint, and suddenly Price was doing the same. Soaps eyes bored into Simons while the other 2 men had a new intense interest in their drinks.

“Said ye leek lik' yer thinking aboot yer bird”

“Don't know what your saying”  

“Och c'moan dinnae lie tae us, a' body kin tell.” 

Suddenly Simon also understood what was so interesting about his pint, bringing the drink back to his lips while his eyes gazed off at the wall next to him. He could feel his back itching and shifting in his seat, his shoulders tensing back up as he bottomed out with his drink, letting the glass sit back down on the table.

“Said, I don't know what youre talkin’ about.”

“Right, 'n' a'm king o' scotland.”

Soap was getting too close and cocky for comfort, too loudly sniffing about where he shouldn't, and poking the bear with a stick too short. Leaning back in his seat, he crossed his arms over his chest, letting the black fabric stretch as he puffed out his chest still with that fucking grin.

“Heard ye talking tae her.”

“No you didn't.”

Price's interest in his pint redirected to the tense conversation on his left; he knew he shouldn't know, but he didn't know Soap knew. The guilt from earlier that was frigid in his mind thawed a little at Simon's denial. If he was lying, that means he was right to search, right? You should never lie to your captain, after all.

“Really? Haven’t got a bird at home?”

“No.” 

“Dinnae ye know lyin a’ sin”

A gutted groan left Soap as he folded over to hold his own knee from the sudden kick under the table. At this point, there was no use lying. If anyone was going to find out about you, it was better for them than anyone else. Mental gymnastics were set aside as he made a list.

On one hand, they could act as insurance; god forbid anything happens to him, you would be safer with them alone, never knowing what happens, and maybe now you would stop pestering him about meeting his friends (he doesn't have any but them). On the other hand, the possibility of you being compromised would finally exist; that thought alone could make him sick.

A long drag of stale air settled in his lungs, slamming his eyes shut as he let that same breath out. Straightening his back and resting his arms on the table, he let them flutter open and fall on Soap.

“You get one question each. One”

Giddy laughter bubbled up out of Johnny; he was just so happy he could finally open up Simon's brain and have a peek. Shooting down both Price and Johnny's question with a quick answer of your name and age only to result in Johnny giving him a wolf whistle that rewarded him with another kick to the shin. Gaz let his nervous shifting settle now that the cat was out of the bag, with his question filling the air with a new strain of tension.

“Can we see her?”

Hair. On. Ends. 

What does he mean by can they see you? Do they want to meet you? Just a picture? Or will that put you in more danger than them now knowing you exist? Maybe it’ll be safer?

“One picture, than nothin else outta you lot for tonight” 

Digging through his album of you in search of a simple photo was tougher than he thought; most were in your shop working, you asleep, some in a more compromising position than he’d like to share, but granted, he finally found one.

You were sitting on your shop counter with your hands settled on the wood supporting you while you had that same teeth-baring smile, eyes open this time, and hair not whipped by the wind. In all honesty, Simon thought you were perfect like this, makeup or not; he loved seeing you like this. You could wear neon-colored jumpsuits for the rest of your lives, and he’d still think you're gorgeous.

It was always you to him. Anytime he sees you, he thinks he could go limp. He was hopelessly devoted to you, ready to drop to his knees and confess all his sins if it meant he could drown in you. You invaded all his senses, unearthing parts of him he didn't know were still alive. You calmed that sick mess festering in him that used to wait until it was dark to sink its teeth into him, reminding him how disgusting he was. You dragged him out of that soulless apartment and breathed life into him. Every time you flood him with ambrosia and honey with the sound of your voice or the heat of your skin.

Well, now he had to let them meet you. A photo could never do you justice.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

can u tell i let this chapter get away from me a bit near the end

#simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod mw x reader #cod simon riley #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #john price #captain price #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #kyle gaz garrick #fluff #x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #cod modern warfare #soap mw2 #soap cod #mw2 #09 ghost #captain john price #ghost x civilian reader #ghost x you

[the-moonlightwitch-official]

AINT NO PLACE LIKE "HOME" pt:5

summary: y/n l/n is a 18 year old girl that struggled in school a lot. It all started in kindergarten when her soul marks never appeared, becoming the class joke. But trust me, y/n’s life never got any easier when the marks did finally appear.

  WARNING: MINORS DNI 18+, student x teacher, mentions of burning, scars, bullying, polyamorous, yandere, yandere themes, kidnapping, murdering, nsfw, DELUSION, violence.

THIS IS GOING TO BE LONG.

Great, everyone believes you're dead now. The look of absolute dread on your face never went unnoticed by the trio. They don't care, the hard part is over with now. You look down at the chain wrapped around your ankles and grab the chain to play with it, while thinking about izuku and everything that happened at the hotel. It happened too fast, way too fast. They knew exactly where you were in a drop of a dime. But how? Is izuku ok? What about my mom? 

“Seems the hard part is over with now huh”? You keep your head down as a pair of bare feet come into view. You hold the chain tighter and run your thumb over it. “Aw not talking to your favorite person?” the words of the man going in one ear and out the other. Refusing to grace them with your eyes as you stared at the ground. They seemed bummed out that you didn't speak nor look at him. So he crouched down into your view and rested his arms on his knees. His long blond hair falling over his muscular shoulders as he leans towards you, his green irises peering at you through his glasses. It's Hizashi. 

You’ve never seen him in normal glasses before. He looks good, too good. You never noticed him without the apron either, he must’ve taken it off when you weren't paying attention. The half naked muscular man in tight pink boxers making you blush. You averted your eyes before he 

notices you looking too hard, can't let him have what he wants. 

He huffed and tilted his head. He raised a hand to caress your face and gently rub his thumb over your jawline. You closed your eyes as he admired you like a hungry and greedy man. He gripped your jaw and gently forced your head to look in his direction. “Look at me.”  you closed your eyes tighter and forced your head out of his hand. In return he rolled his eyes and spoke with patience.

“Everythings gonna be fine ok, we got this. You’ll be grateful soon enough. There's plenty of food to eat and room to run around in.” you opened your eyes and looked at him disgusted that he was talking to you like you were some animal in a cage. “Hey and maybe if you behave you can go outside. With supervision of course.” he smiled at you, the light practically beaming off of his perfect pearly whites. You felt a wave of emotions rising in you as you contemplated violently knocking his perfect teeth out of his mouth. You both turned your heads when a voice cut in. 

“have the cameras been set up yet”? Shota asks while walking past to make himself some coffee in the kitchen. All the violent thoughts in your head have been halted.

Jesus he’s fine as fuck. You watch as he walks past with pure lean muscle from head to toe, tight black boxers, and long black hair flowing with his movement, he looked almost like a god. Hizashi notices you watching sho as he walks past you guys all the way to the kitchen. 

 Hizashi smirks at you as he stands up and responds to him “not yet, but later today the team is gonna come back and finish up the work to set up the cameras and all that.” he said while walking towards shota who was pouring piping hot coffee into his favorite gray mug, that no one else is allowed to use. The steam rising from the mug looks hypnotizing as he pours it. He gently places the coffee pot back into its place, before taking a sip of the piping hot liquid. 

You can't seem to understand why he likes his coffee that way, hizashi can't either.  

No cream or sugar, just black coffee. That's how he liked it, simple. Toshi used to drink it like that as well, but ever since his incident with one for all leaving that wound, doctors advise him not to drink any heavily caffeinated drinks. If he wishes to enjoy a cup, it must be sparingly. 

You can’t help but stare mesmerized as your soon to be fiance shota leaned against the counter. Abs flexing as he crosses his muscular arms over his chest while holding the steaming cup of coffee. His hair is a long black mess falling over his shoulders. You honestly wouldn’t mind giving your virginity to him, especially when he looked like that under his clothes. you secretly favored him over the others. But you are upset with him for what he did to Izuku. Your attention was broken when Hizashi snapped his fingers and looked at shota with excitement. “Guess what?” shota looked up at him with tired dead eyes “what”. 

“ I know we were trying to be smart with our money considering the plan and all, but I did pay extra for extremely strong glass. Y’know for all the windows and mirrors, and even the glass doors, y’know for extra security.” He said as he walked to the kitchen window and knocked on it. “She ain’t gonna break this bad boy. Theyre gonna install all of it today.”  shota nodded impressed and responded after taking another sip. “Good purchase.”  

toshinori got up off of the couch and made his way over to you “where are we going to put her, while they’re here?” 

Hizashi looked over at the clock on the wall knowing they’re gonna be here in a couple of hours. “Shit your right.” he clicked his teeth with his tongue while thinking. “Well they pretty much finished installing her room yesterday, could put her up there, and you could keep her company while I work down here with the team.” hizashi said to toshi while looking up at you with his hands on his hips.

Toshi nodded in agreement. “Well I gotta get going, gotta work.” shota cut in while setting his finished coffee cup on the counter. He pecked hizashi and toshi on the lips as he disappeared upstairs.  Hizashi looked at toshi. “I gotta head to work after the team leaves, can you handle her?'' Toshi looks at you and smiles “of course, she's a good girl. Except for the fight from yesterday.'' Hizashi looked down at you remembering the fight. “Gonna have to work extra hard for my forgiveness, " he said while massaging the bruise on his calf. You looked up at him confused and disgusted. “What's that supposed to mean?” 

Hizashi smiled at you sweetly and seductively '' Anything you want it to mean sunshine. alright i'm gonna go put some clothes on”.  He said as he stood up straight and patted you on the head and disappeared up the same stairs as his husband. 

Toshi walked over to you bending down to start undoing your chains. “BEHAVE” he said as he stared into your soul. He wore a black shirt and gray sweatpants. Not as attractive as the others, also never thought he would wear that either.  He grabbed your arm and helped you up before gathering the chains and guiding you down a hallway and into your new room that's right beside his. 

So hizashi and sho’s rooms are upstairs. There's apparently a bunch of rooms with bathrooms but they chose your room to be one without one, since they would want you to use one of theirs with supervision. The bedroom was honestly beautiful. The bed, the lights, the curtains, the decor, you even have a tv. No wonder everyone leaves the decorating to hizashi. 

“Do you need to use the restroom?” he asked, looking down at you while holding your arm and tossing the chains onto the bed. “No”. It was a lie, and a big one. But you know that he would stand in there with you. “Alright then” he said as he picked you up and placed you on the bed. “What are you doing?” you asked as he started wrapping the chains around your ankles again. 

“What's necessary, especially after yesterday.” After he wrapped you up he grabbed the television remote and laid down next to you. “What do you wanna watch” you huffed and turned over. “Nothing.” toshinori rolled his eyes and turned on a sitcom. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After half an hour you heard a couple of knocks on your door before it creaked open. Shota walked in dressed in his hero suit. He kissed toshi before walking to the other side of the bed to lean over you and peck your forehead with his lips. You pretended to be asleep. Sho knew that was bullshit. But he couldn't help but admire you as he ran his scared fingers through your hair. The memories of his horrific act with the clone, clouding his mind. Your “funeral” is also today. He’s gotta look nice at the funeral that's going to be broadcasted on national television. Toshi is supposed to be there, but he can't so sho will make an excuse for him.

 His mind raced with thoughts as he began to caress your face gently as if you were made of glass and would break. You're here, and you're safe, that's all that matters to him. He bent down one last time to peck your lips before heading off to work. His lips were warm and minty. He must have put on some chapstick. It sadly made you crave more. Without thinking you chased his lips when he pulled away. He looked down at you surprised before dipping back down. He connected his lips with yours again. You were shocked that you did that. But his lips feel good. It felt like a comfort you never knew you needed. He pulled away and smiled at you. “I gotta head out, ok?” he said. You looked away ashamed of what you did. He waved at toshi before walking out. 

You stared at the ceiling as you heard him walking through the house and out of the front door.  Hearing his car drive off before deciding to  look over at toshi who had his reading glasses on while playing a crossword puzzle out of a book. Good lord. You heard more knocking on the door and looked over, and in came the boisterous blond. He was wearing a white shirt and black sweatpants as well with his Long blond hair in a bun.  He smiled brightly at you and toshi. “Doesn’t this room look beautiful? I had it done specifically to your preferences sweetheart.”

 you looked confused then scanned the room. He was right, your favorite colors and animals and posters. Everything down to a T, and you never noticed. But how could he know? He never saw your room….right?

Little did you know that his obsession with you is stronger than the other two’s. It got so bad that he was getting up in the middle of the night, and sneaking out of the house without waking his husband to go to your home and sneak into your window undetected to watch you sleep. There's been many nights where he slept in the same room with you without you knowing. 

Even went as far as to unbuckling his belt and pulling down his pants, watching as his rock hard length sprung into the cool air with a red hot tip dribbling pre cum. He rubbed one out as he stood at the foot of your bed. 

He even used your lotion. Precum flying everywhere as he thrusted into his fist roughly at the end of your bed. Loud slick sounds bounced off the walls as he picked up the pace and tightened his fist. He picked up a pair of used panties off the floor to catch his cum as it spurted out. He breathed heavily as he looked up at you after cumming. Smiling like a dork. Thinking to himself that he wishes that you could watch him do that. He has a kink for his partners watching him touch himself. If only you could see how big and long he was, how he could satisfy you and hit every spot inside of you, making you scream, as your ass bounced off his dick. 

But that information stays with him until the day he dies. But just know that he definitely has seen your room more than enough times. “It's awesome right?” he said looking at you expectantly. You looked around trying not to get creeped out. “Sure” he frowned at the simple, small uninterested answer. Before he could say anything else. You all heard loud car door slams outside. Not like you could look outside your window since you're chained to your bed. Toshinori sat up and Hizashi walked over to the window. 

“Great they’re here”! He says spinning around and walking out of the room. 

The next couple of hours were filled with loud footsteps, loud bangs, and thuds, the sounds of hammers and drills as they install cameras and decor to hizashi’s liking. The blond's loud voice constantly booming around the house with “NOT THERE” and “PUT IT HERE” and “HEY BE CAREFUL WITH THOSE, THEY WERE MY MOTHERS.” 

You looked up as a couple of men entered your room to install a camera in the corner of your ceiling. Hizashi entered the doorway and met toshinoris glare. “Sorry I forgot about a camera needing to be in this room too.” Hizashi said while he shrugged at toshi. You looked up at the man on the ladder, and the men surrounding him. They were all purposefully not looking at you. Like they felt pity for you. No...almost like they were scared to look in your direction. Almost like if they even dared to view you, they would meet their fate. Hizashi is their fate. He's the most obsessive and predatory person you have ever met. 

“All right, great work boys.” he said as they wrapped up everything and started heading out of your room. One stayed behind. “Looks like we did everything, it all looks pretty good, and the cameras were installed perfectly. If you have any questions or need anything else, please call me.” Hizashi nodded at him with respect and handed him a $100 tip, and with that all the men gathered their belongings and left the home. 

You looked up at the camera pointing right at you in the corner of your room. “Check this out toshi, we can download an app that controls the cameras.” Hizashi  said as he used his phone to move the camera every which way. Great definitely no privacy. He walked over to toshi to help him download the app. Once they got all that situated. Hizashi left to get ready for work. Toshi thanked god that it was his day off because then you would be left home alone. What could be better than Toshi's company? He thought to himself. 

Hizashi came back into the room smiling in his hero suit. “All right my doves, I must be off.” he said as he kissed Toshi on the lips and rounded the bed to kiss you. He tried to kiss your lips but you dodged it. He didn't give up though, you kept moving your head around to dodge the kisses and eventually he got tired of it and grabbed your face and forced your lips onto his. “See it wasnt that hard huh?” he said, chuckling to himself. He stood up straight and fixed his jacket. “All right, I'm going to work, I'll be back later. If you need anything toshi im one call away.” Toshi nodded at him and wished him well. 

The day carried on with you laying in bed and toshinori doing paperwork with reading glasses next to you in bed. He occasionally thought about izuku. How disappointed in him he is for kidnapping you and scaring you. (still delusional i see). He thought about how he is going to deal with him. No better way than to threaten him. You thought about izuku as well. How is he doing? 

You decided to change the channel and forget your worries. Until the news channel came on and it's a funeral. You thought nothing of it until the person in the casket looked familiar… is that…you? It's a funeral. For you. Toshinori looked up from his puzzle to see what the commotion was. His eyes widened. Shit… he forgot about that happening today. 

Aizawa was there looking down with everyone else as they prayed over your casket. Your mother was there beside him “sobbing”. She didn't seem too upset. Maybe she knows you're still alive. Hope filled your body. Maybe you can be saved. The funeral wasn’t too long. Your casket was lowered into the ground and everyone was interviewed, paying their respects. Including your mother. Aizawas' interview was just a bunch of “you cant save everyone” bullshit. Great now everyone DEFINITELY believes that you're dead.

They wasted no time getting the ball rolling for everything. It hasn't even been a day yet and your funeral is already happening.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hizashi had no problem covering for his husband's class while he was attending your “funeral”. It wasn’t for too long since the funeral was set to start a couple of hours before class starts. Shota was only 10 minutes late to class today. Nothing major. Once he returned Hizashi told him how good and quiet the kids were today before heading to his own class. 

Shota seemed to be treating Midoriya differently today. He seems to drop everything he hands izuku onto the ground before izuku could grab it, Almost like shota is dropping it on purpose. He hands out classwork to everyone but izuku. He huffs in annoyance when izuku raises his hand. Izuku’s terrified of his teacher because of the past event that happened, but he must be brave. “Yes midoriya?” he says in a low sinister tone. Izuku gulps. “You didn't hand me one sir.” shota rolls his eyes before saying “oh you mean one of these?” while lifting up a sheet of classwork. GULP ``yes sir” he smirks. “Come get one then.'' Izuku stood up slowly and made his way to his teacher's desk. It felt like centuries as Aizawa stared at him. He stopped at the foot of his desk and looked down at the sheet of paper sitting next to his teacher's laptop. Shota noticed his hesitancy. 

 In a low predatory tone he spoke. “Go on, take it.” izuku closed his eyes and gulped before slowly reaching his shaky hand to grab the paper. “I'm not gonna bite.” Once izuku’s hand touched the paper, shota jumped and growled loudly at him just like a dog attack. Izuku snatched his hand back to himself and stumbled over himself. He looked horrified at Aizawa as he laughed like it was the funniest thing he has ever done. He's never seen his teacher laugh so hard or even smile in that matter. Izuku’s heart is beating out of his chest. Shota stands up and wipes a tear from his own eye.

 “Oh you know I'm just joking around with ya kid. You should have seen your face.” he says as he hands him the sheet of paper. Izuku just stares at him. “Well go on, take it.” shota insists. He snatches the paper quickly out of his teachers hand as if he’ll rip his arm off. Shota’s face drops back into a dead look before leaning over in his face and saying in a chilling tone. “Now go sit the fuck down.” 

Izuku scrambled back to his desk while the class laughed at him. He couldn't focus on his work after that. Shota noticed. “Midoryia, you better focus, I would hate to have to take you out of the hero course.” izuku looked up and saw shota staring at him through his long back hair. “Yes sir.” 

Hizashi treated midoriya no differently than shota. Constantly “forgetting” about him, and torturing him. Giving him more homework than the rest of the class. Izuku regretted getting involved with your scary situation. But you're his best friend, how could he not? You're gone now and there's nothing he can do. He saw the news. You were found dead in that very hotel room, and had a funeral later as well. It doesn't make sense. Not for someone who was there. He saw you being escorted out. How could you end up back in the same room dead. He doesn't believe what everyone was fooled by. You're not dead. He knows it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tea”? Toshinori shouted from the kitchen. “Sure” you said looking dead at the living room television as some random rom com played. He was nice enough to let you out of your chains earlier since you asked nicely and promised to be good. How far could you possibly get? This place is basically locked down to the highest levels possible. The locks are apparently top notch along with the glass windows and doors, and there are hella cameras. Your ass aint getting anywhere without anyone knowing. Hell, just moving an inch would have the cameras notifying them. 

They were even nice enough to inject a small quirk canceling thing in your arm while you were asleep. Definitely an illegal thing. They got it off the street from a guy who also laced it so you couldn't feel it. You can thank Toshinori for that idea since he used to do drugs when he was at his lowest, fucking all those women looking for his soulmate (aka you). The only reason you know about the thing in your arm is because toshi slipped up  when he was mumbling about protecting you when he thought you were asleep. 

“I need to use the bathroom.” you mumbled as toshi walked over to you carefully with a hot cup of tea, setting it down in front of you. He stood back up and nervously wiped his hands on his pants and looked around. “Uh sure, of course.” you stood up and looked at him. “Oh, uh, it's upstairs and it's the first door on the left. Do you want me to come with”? You shook your head. “I can manage, i mean how far can i get in this house?” you laughed in defeat. Apparently he didn't find that funny. He watched as you made your way up to the bathroom. You closed the door and scrambled to the toilet to pee immediately. You’ve been holding it since this morning. Luckily toshi trusted you enough to take the chains off your feet and let you roam around. Almost time for the other two to start heading home if they don't have other plans. After wiping you stood up and pulled your pants up. You washed your hands with the wonderfully scented soap that hizashi picked out.

 You sighed as you looked at yourself in the mirror. God you look like shit. You bent down and splashed your face with ice cold water for almost a solid minute as if you're trying to wake yourself up from this dream. Not working. You shut off the water and walked over to the towels and dried your face off. You thought about everything and took a deep breath and put your back against the wall and slid down to the floor. You slumped over on the floor wishing death upon yourself. Looking straight ahead you notice the sink cabinets. Wonder what’s under there. You get up on your knees and crawl over and open it, of course you expected back up bathroom necessities, and it was. But you notice something all the way in the back. A singular bobby pin. An idea slams your brain. The locks around the house may be top notch, but you're sure it's nothing a bobby pin cant take care of. 

You quickly move everything and grab the bobby pin. You sit back and hold the bobby pin in between your palms as you pray to the heavens that your idea works. Hope finds its way into your heart. But all of that was interrupted by knocking on the door. You scrambled to close the cabinet and stand up shoving the bobby pin into your sock. “Hey, are you alright, you’ve been in there for a while.” 

“Yeah im fine.” you say with your heart beating out of your chest. You stumble back as he unlocked the door with ease and came in. “sorry just had to make sure you were ok.” he walked into the bathroom and scanned it and scanned you. Looks fine to him. “Let's go play a board game, yeah”? You nodded and followed him to the dining room table as he grabbed a board game from a large cabinet. “Let's play candyland.” he said as he smiled at you bringing it over to set it on the table. Candyland, your childhood game. How the fuck do these creeps know everything about you. “Have you played this before”? He asked as he unpacked it. Oh as if he doesn’t fucking know. 

You rolled your eyes. “Can I get a snack out of the fridge”? He looked up and over to the kitchen. “Sure” he didn't worry since he could see everything going on in the kitchen from where he sat. you stood up and went to the fridge pretending to pick something out. The fridge and kitchen was loaded with snacks and foods that you liked. The only reason they would know is from the worksheets they hand us in the beginning of the year to write things down about ourselves and the snacks, foods, hobbies, music, and colors that we like. 

You walked over to the cabinet close to a small stairway that led to a hallway with a glassdoor. One that led to the outside world. You looked over to toshi to see his nose deep in the board game instructions. You looked around the kitchen with something to hit him with. There's no knives. They hid them all. Fuck. But there's a cutting board. It was a fancy glass one, it was fucking heavy. You quietly grab it and put it behind your back and make your way over to toshi. He never noticed you walking over, raising a cutting board over your head in a deadly manner. 

He started mumbling to himself, confused on the instructions “Wait, if this goes here, then this must go-”  WHAM 

He was out like a light. His blond head slamming against the table. Silence filled the room as he slumped over. You stared at him terrified that you actually did that before the adrenaline kicked in and you were running like a bat out of hell towards the back door. Regret fills you as you approach the clear glass door and notice how gray and foggy it is outside from all of the heavy rain, how could you even see? Why now of all times? It's too late now. It’s now or never. You scrambled to get the pin out from your sock, you were shaking so bad that you dropped it a few times, before finally getting it into the door, after constantly looking behind you. “CLICK” oh my god. You did it. It's unlocked. So much for “MAXIMUM security locks”. You grabbed the door knob and swung the door open, and there it is, that beautiful view you were dying to see. The outside world. After looking over your shoulder just one more time, you booked it out of the house. You could see it, smell it, and taste it. Freedom. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

School let out and shota decided to stay and take over for the detention teacher since they had a personal emergency, and hizashi decided to go over to your mothers house and share his condolences for your death. He hopped into the car throwing his bags into the back seat and took his jacket, speaker, headphones and shades off. Tossing them in the passenger seat beside him. He grabbed a comb from out of the glove department and combed his hair down and put it in a bun. He opened the department to put the brush back and grabbed a pair of his normal glasses and put them on. He looked in the rearview mirror at his face to see if he looked good. Even checking his pearly white teeth. “Alright” he said as he put the keys in the ignition and started the car. “Let's get this ball rolling.” he said as he began to drive out of there. 

Hizashi decided to hit up a flower shop on the ride there. Once he got the flowers, he was on his way to your moms. The car ride there was almost unbearable, the traffic was awful and he almost got T-boned 12 times by fucking idiots who apparently are color blind to traffic lights. But alas, he made it. He slowly pulled up to your house and turned the car off. Deciding to look into the mirror one last time before taking a deep breath and getting out. He closed the car door and made his way up your porch. He took a deep breath as he rang the doorbell. Sounds of a small dog barking and a woman telling it to hush, can be heard on the other side of the door. The sound of a lock can be heard before the door opens. “Oh hello there.” your mother says with a bright smile. Hizashi nodded “hello ms. L/n, do you mind if i come in”? She looked him up and down in a seductive way before answering. “Why sure.” he was absolutely disgusted. Her daughter just “died” and this is how she acts?  

Hizashi kept his smile as he entered the home and looked around as your mother shut the door behind him. “Are those for me”? She asked sweetly. Hizashi nods and hands her the flowers. “Oh I gotta find a pretty vase for these.” she sings as she walks to the kitchen. “Oh I almost forgot, how rude of me. Would you like any Tea, water, juice, or coffee”? She asked while scurrying past him to pull out a chair from the table for him to sit. He waved his hand with dismissal while sitting down in the seat she offered. “No thank you, I appreciate it though”.

He smiled at her.

 “Ok then, what brings your handsome self here”? She says as she fills a vase with water and places the flowers inside. He visibly cringes with the language. “I just thought that I should come by and give you my condolences about what happened with y/n”. He says as he fakes a look of concern and sadness on his face. 

She looks down and chuckles a bit. “Oh, that's all”? Setting the flowers aside.

Hizashi looks confused. “She’s not all that special to me mr. Yamada.” Your mom looks straight ahead out the window above the sink into the back yard to look at the swingset that you used to play on when you were a kid. 

“Yes, she was my child. But she was nothing but a financial problem for me and my boyfriends that i dated. They wanted her gone. But I kept her since she had a chance of becoming a hero and being famous, so I would be able to use her for my own wealth. I mean this swingset I bought for her put me into debt.” She says as she gestures her hand towards the swingset outside of the window. 

Hizashi’s eyes widened. What. the. Actual. Fuck. And he thought HE was sick in the head. Get a load of this bitch. He’s stunned. This was never the reaction he thought he would get. This is a joke right? 

“I'm sorry”? He says as he stands up. “You heard me. I'm free now. No more having to pay for an ungrateful little bitch, no more forcing her into the hero course, and no more stress of trying to figure out what to do with her since all of my past  boyfriends don't seem like her. I can now erase her as if I never had a child, and I would have better luck with relationships” She turned and smiled at Hizashi but her smile faltered a little bit before saying, “but my chance of wealth is out of the picture now that she’s gone.” 

“Is that all you're worried about”? Hizashi says in all seriousness and rage. Damn he  never thought your mom would say such things about you. “At the moment, yes. Besides, now that she’s gone I can finally shoot my shot with you. I have always had a thing for you, But dating my daughter's teacher would be odd, but she's gone now, and you're definitely my type.” she says as she walks over with a seductive smirk. 

He takes a few steps back. “You choose men over your own child and teachers are where you draw the line”? She reaches the table that he stood at and leans on it. “What's the matter, I've always noticed the way you look at me, your partner with the dark hair as well, maybe we can run a train. You should call him since you're already here” she says as she gestures her head behind her towards her bedroom. Hizashi looks past her shoulder and sees she's gesturing to her room. 

He visibly cringes trying not to vomit from pure disgust. It takes everything in him not to tell her that he’s definitely into her daughter instead of her. Rage fills his body. “How the fuck could you say something like that.” His heart hurts for you. Thank the Gods that he kidnapped you, he practically saved you and he can tell you had no idea that your mother held this secret of rage and hatred. His soul hurt. Memories of him attending crime scenes where the child met a terrible fate because the mothers chose the man over them, begins to flood in and haunt him where he stands. He wishes nothing but the worst for those types of mothers. Little did he know that your mother was one of them. 

She looks at him confused seeing that he hurts for you. “What? You want her over me? Oh my god of course you do, she’s always been prettier than me.'' She throws her hands up in defeat and walks towards him shoving a finger to his chest. “Fine, if thats how you want  to be then get the fuck out of my house. NOW!” he stares down at her with anger and a lone tear falling down his face. He contemplates his next move. 

This is all happening so fast and unexpected. Does he beat her until she’s unrecognizable? Does he start recording and show the police and frame her for the death of her daughter? The second option sounds like a wonderful plan honestly. His fists clenched up. She huffed and turned around to walk away. He raises his fist but logic struck him before he could hit her. He quickly straightened himself up and walked out of the home. He walked to his car as he wiped his tears. Leaving the house with her still alive in it, took a lot of strength not to kill her. He looked in the rearview mirror and checked his face, wiping any excess tears. He straightened his glasses and started the car, backing out of the driveway. She's not getting away with this alive. Hizashi wont allow it. He can't hurt her unfortunately because It'll cost him his career. But he'll find a way.  If she wont show you the love appreciation that you deserve then he will, and so will sho and toshi. 

He called toshinori who wasn’t picking up and decided to call shota instead. He was so angry and upset he didn't even bother checking the cameras when Toshi didn't answer. Little did he know that he should have. 

With a couple of rings shota picks up. Without wasting time he speaks “sho i'm going to take a street parole shift for tonight.” he waits for shota to answer. “Why?'' Hizashi thinks about everything and huffs. “Someone called off and there isn’t anyone to take over, so I decided to.” he lied. “Ok then, i’ll see you late tonight then?'' Hizashi nods. “Yes.” 

“Ok is there anything else you called me for?” Hizashi hovers his finger over the end call button on his steering wheel before saying “no, I just wanted to inform you of that. I love you goodbye.” then clicked the button, ending the call. He’s working tonight because he can't go home and have you see him like this. He wanted to spend tonight with you especially after what just happened. So he’ll just have to make it up to you tomorrow and stay home from work. 

 He began grabbing all of his outfit accessories from the passenger seat and put them on as he drove to the hero agency where he would be spending the rest of his day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air was freezing as it hit your face along with sprinkles of rain that were getting heavier by the minute. You can't breathe anymore from how long and fast you’ve been running, even stepping on a few spikey seed pods on the ground with your bare feet, but you never stopped running. You can't feel your legs anymore. Your Lungs are cold and heavy in your chest. You must keep going. Wait, I found it. The gate at the end of the driveway. You started to slow down as you approached it. You looked frantically behind you as you came to a stop in front of it. You would never know if he followed you out here, since the fog is too heavy to see through. 

The humidity does nothing to aid your breathing, as the rain picks up. Turning around you begin to scan your surroundings as the rain begins to violently soak everything around. Your hair and clothes are now soaking wet and heavy. 

The bars are too close together, and you can't climb them since they were built to be sharp at the top. The walls were made of bricks with barbed wire at the top. Fuck. You look over and see a “private property” and “smile for the camera” sign on the side of the gate. Looking above the signs you see a giant camera facing you. There must be cameras on both sides. Your brows knit in anger as you lift your middle finger to the camera. 

Trying but getting stuck when you try to squeeze through the bars. Anger taking over as you used whatever strength you had to get yourself unstuck, ultimately flying and landing in a huge puddle of rainwater. You stared at the gray sky that sported a huge flash of lightning, and a few moments later the loudest sound of thunder you have ever heard in your life. You couldn’t help but sob. “Please, just please.” you prayed and spoke to whoever was listening. Taking a deep breath, you got up and looked over at a tree that was super close to the wall. Perfect. You ran over to the tree and began climbing it. Thank God for your tree climbing skills that you got when you were a kid. You got to the top and crawled along a branch that would take you to the other side. Almost there. “BAM” 

Everything around you shook. The branch bounced and caused you to fall, almost face planting into the barbed wire. Your body slammed into a large puddle on the ground. You were covered from head to toe in mud. There's no time to waste, you thought to yourself as you scrambled to stand up. You thought nothing of the large sound that happened, thinking that it was just thunder. You turned around and your heart stopped beating. Toshinori stood there in his might form, staring down at you. Looking up in fear, you backed up as his hulking form loomed over you.

 The shadows covering his eyes perfectly made him look more frightening. He breathed deep and heavy with anger as the rain bounces off of his huge form. Neon blue irises peered at you through the shadows around his eyes, making you realize that the sound that you thought was thunder was actually him hitting the ground from out of the sky. Looking down you noticed the mud scattered everywhere and a huge divot in the ground under his feet from the impact. 

You stumble backwards from the large man. Only causing him to take a step forward for every step that you took back. The ground vibrates under you with every step that you take. Eventually backing up into the brick wall with nowhere to go. He is towered over you, seething. The only thing that you can do now is beg. “P-please, im sorry, i-i-i did not mean t-to hurt you.” great now you're stuttering.  You raise your hands up in defense. “You know I wouldn't mean to hurt you. Please. I have to go home, i-i miss my mom, and my life, i h-have to go home please. Please.” you stuttered and begged through your sobs. 

The begs of mercy and pleas fell upon deaf ears. Almost like they were bouncing off of a wall as he just stood there staring at you, not making a single sound. Nothing worse than the silence. Nothing can be heard but the pitter patter sounds of rain hitting every surface around the both of you and the occasional sound of thunder. He reaches forward and you shriek. Dodging his grip and running for your life. You knew your fate was sealed as the ground below you failed  you with slippery mud. Slipping and falling on your ass multiple times didn't stop you from getting up to run. He wasn’t running, he was walking slowly towards your small frail frame as you ran like your life depended on it. He walked like a killer from a movie. Slow and taunting like. 

You slipped one last time. And he caught up to you. A shriek pierced the air as he grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled you to your feet from the roots of your head. He got a mere inch from your face and stared into your soul. He was so close that you could feel the air from his nostrils on your face. You couldn’t help but sob and bring your arms above your head to try to pry his large hand off of your scalp, only causing more pain for yourself. His voice causes you to freeze. “You have disappointed me y/n l/n”. His voice was terrifyingly calm. Without a second longer he threw you into the air and caught you before jumping off of the ground and using the force of his strength to fly into the air towards the house. A loud scream of “NO” erupted from you as he jumped off the ground. 

This was horrifying. You were already scared of heights and you could see the earth below you as you flew 3000 ft into the air. So that's how he got to where you were. He flew. But how did he know exactly where you were in the huge messy forest surrounding the driveway. You missed the cameras that were planted all over the forest that were facing right at you, pinpointing every location you were. The landing felt like it could have killed you with the force of impact. He straightened his body after landing and walked to the back of the house where the glass door that you ran through. He walked carefully through the door to make sure that he can fit through it without having to drop you or change his size. He was successful. You watched as your freedom slipped away from your fingers like sand as he closed the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was almost 7pm and shota began packing up everything. The kids were dismissed hours ago, but he needed to finish leftover work that hasn't been done since the incident of you being ‘kidnapped’ by izuku. Man, he's hungry. Should he pick something up to bring home? Nah cooking sounds good, even though he's absolutely exhausted. He hasn’t had homemade meals in a while other than this morning. Too much takeout lately. He smirked at the thought of you watching him while he's in the kitchen with an apron on. He noticed the way you looked at him this morning when he was wearing nothing but boxers. 

He held onto that thought as he exited the building with his bag, only to stop as he saw the heavy rain pouring. Yeesh he shouldn’t have parked so far away. He raised his bag over his head to protect him from the rain as he jogged to his car. He quickly unlocked his car and jumped in as he tossed his bag to the passenger seat. Shota took a deep breath as he watched the unbearably heavy rain bounce off of his windshield. Jeez. He took his phone out to shoot a text to toshi that he's on his way home now. Toshi replied quickly with a thumbs up. Shota was satisfied with Toshi's answer and put the phone down before starting the car and turning the windshield wipers on at the highest level, before driving off. 

The drive home sucked. The amount of times that idiots almost hit him from every angle is horrendous. Something about the rain makes people drive like fucking morons. He pulled up to the gates and showed the camera his face and it unlocked the gates for him. He takes a deep breath as the gates slowly open, hoping he doesn't come home to any surprises because you misbehaved in any way shape or form. He presses on the gas and makes his way down the driveway. After about 5 minutes the house comes into view. “Hmm, not burned down. That's a good sign.” He reaches the house and stops the car. He turns the car off and takes the keys out of the ignition. Reaching over he grabs his bag to hover over his head again as he exits the vehicle in the pouring rain. He reaches the door and unlocks all 3 locks and types in a passcode before being let in. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were terrified as you laid strapped down and chained to your bed. Toshinori is lying beside you watching tv with his fingers intertwined on his chest. Giving you the occasional glare. He was disappointed that it got to the point where he had to break out the straps and make you completely immobile. You know something is waiting for you. You both perk up when you both hear the sound of the front door being opened. Your heart beats heavier than before. “Shota’s home.” toshinori said as he got up and walked out, leaving you alone in the room. No no no no what's going to happen to me? 

After what seemed like half an hour, the door opened and Shota stepped in, and shut the door calmly. He slowly stalked towards your bed, and stood at the end of it. Putting both of his hands on the bed frame and leaning on it towards you. His raven hair falling over his shoulders as he glared at you. Eyes glowing just slightly red. You can tell that he’s had a rough day. This cannot be good. Panic rose in your soul as you tried to find the right words to plead. You were about to open your mouth but quickly zipped it when he noticed words were about to come out of your mouth and gripped the bed frame even harder causing it to creak in protest and crack open. Long cracks shooting across the frame. His eyes are getting redder and redder. He looked up and took a deep breath before calmly taking his hands off of the frame and standing up straight. 

Shota looked down at your ankles. Gently guiding his hand to ghost over your feet.

 “I was hoping that you would behave tonight. Now it looks like toshi is going to make dinner while I keep you company”. He ran his index finger along the bottom of your foot, tickling you, causing your foot to jerk. He quickly grabbed it harshly and yanked it to him. He stared into your soul menacingly as his rough, scarred hands held your foot in an iron clasp grip. “Please i-” 

His raven hair started to float when more noise left your mouth, causing you to quickly shut it. 

He sighed heavily before speaking in a low unnerving tone. 

“I don't want to do this, but I'm left with no choice. I can't let you off scott free with just a few ‘im sorrys’. You won't learn anything.” He squeezed your foot even harder, to the point of snapping it in half. “Your actions have consequences. And hopefully this lesson will stick in that fucking head of yours.” He then grabbed the second ankle and looked you dead in the eyes before gripping them both tightly with the strength only a god could have before snapping both of your ankles in different directions causing horrendous damage to your bones. White hot pain shot through your ankles and legs. Your blood curdling screams fell of deaf ears as he dropped your ankles back onto the bed like they were nothing. The weight of them slamming back onto the bed causes you to scream louder.

Shota stalked over to you and tilted his head as he watched you sob with snot and drool running down your face. He reached down and gripped a handful of hair in his hand as he lifted your head roughly. “Look” you refused to open your eyes. “I SAID LOOK” the fear overtaking whatever was left of your body and to your dismay, you opened your eyes. He was showing you the work he was proud of. Horror filled your entire body as he spoke. “Look at that, can't go anywhere now huh”? Your face going pale as you stared down at your twisted fuck up ankles beyond repair. He slammed your head back down to the bed and got close to your ear so there was no way you couldn’t hear him. “Hopefully THIS” he says as he shakes your limp ankle causing you to wince in pure agony. “Will be a lesson that sticks, Because this is only a mere warning.” 

You began to sob but he gripped your hair even tighter and shook your head. “Next time you wont have any fucking feet, and thats only if i feel generous enough to let you keep your whole legs.” He dropped your head and stood up straight. “Your grounded, no tv, tablet, board games, or whatever the fuck you do in your free time. Your going to be in this bed and never fucking leave it, not like you can anyway.” he chuckled to himself. He began to walk out before turning back to you. “No privacy either, this door stays open and if I catch it closed I'm going to take it off of its hinges, no bathroom time by yourself either, and no dinner.” he said as he walked out of the door to leave you in a sobbing broken mess on your own bed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Man, it's soaking out here. Mic thought to himself as he patrolled the empty dark streets. The occasional grocery bag skidding across the pavement from the wind. He honestly wishes something would happen, time is moving way too slow for his liking. He can't help but think about your mother and what a vile human being she is. Then he thinks about you. He hopes everything is going ok at home. He fights the urge to call shota so check up on you, he's not supposed to be caught on his phone during patrols. His hair is soaking wet and has fallen flat a few hours ago when the rain was at its peak. It’ll be weird seeing THE present mic all dressed up but with his hair down and soaked. 

Jeez can something happen please. He was bored out of his mind and he couldn’t take his mind off of your mothers words about you. A scream from the distance halted his thoughts. He perked up and ran immediately to the sound. It's coming from an alleyway. Typical. He walked into the alleyway still bored out of his mind, thinking that this is some cliche everyday robber. “Hey buddy why don't you put the purse down and maybe i’ll le-” mic freezes as the criminal turns his head and peers at him. It's the serial killer that nobody can seem to catch. The very one that kidnaps people and leaves the corpses in america. That same killer that his husband and fiance framed for the “death” of their darling in that hotel room. His face goes pale. 

Before mic can say anything the killer drops what he was doing and lunges forward, knocking mic onto his ass. Mic got up and landed a few blows before picking him up and swinging him around and slamming him to the alleyway walls. He held onto the killer's shirt as he continually punched him knocking a few teeth loose. He slammed his head into the wall and held it there as he twisted his arm behind his back and got close to his ear. “It’s over buddy, you’ve been caught. Do you feel guilty? All of those lives you took?” he asks as he took restraints out of his pocket and detained him, throwing him to the ground. 

The killer spit up some blood before answering with a big smile that was missing some teeth. “No, never.” mic rolled his eyes while he kept an eye on him and took his phone out ready to dial the police and turn him in. As he was dialing the man spoke up. “Hey hey hey, no need for that man. I can do whatever you want or KILL whoever you want.” mic froze and looked up at him. Ideas coming into mind. The killer noticed the look on mics face.

 “Yeah, I can tell you have someone in mind, come on, who is it? All you gotta do is give me a name.” Mic shook his head and put his thumb over the call button, But for some reason he couldn’t press it. 

Mike's head was racing. It all halted when the killer interrupted. “Look, you obviously want someone dead mr “hero”. So I'll make a deal, yeah? I’ll wipe out whoever you want and you will let me go, almost like we never crossed paths, yeah”? He tilted his head and looked up at mic. Who was seriously considering it. The killer almost scoffs at how easy it is to manipulate mic.  

“Well?” He tilts his head and looks at him expectantly. Mic completely caved. “I want you to murder this woman named (mothers name) that lives on (address).” The restrained man looks up and smiles. Bingo. “How do you want it done”? He asked. Mic began to smile like a maniac. “I want it to be the most brutal work you’ve ever done.” He laughed and smiled to the point where the killer himself got a little creeped out. He must be losing his mind. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mic sits and waits in his car at the end of your mothers driveway. He stares at his steering wheel. He went through with it, he a “HERO” actually negotiated with a serial killer. It must be done. He thinks to himself. Full on delusion taking over. 

He took the restraints off of the killer and negotiated with him. Setting a due date for TONIGHT. No other time or day. Their plan was to let him go to do what needs to be done, and then mic will follow and make sure that the person is actually dead before “officially” setting him free. Mic laughed to himself in the car. God that killer is gullible. He doesn’t actually think mic is gonna let him go does he? His thoughts were interrupted by faint screams. He looks up and can see shadows moving violently behind the window blinds. 

Anxiety rises in mic and he begins to look around. Eventually the screams stop, and he steps out of the car making sure no one sees him or is outside. 

He straightens himself up and walks over to the front door before opening it. He looks over his shoulder once more before closing the door behind him. Damn this house is a mess. There's blood everywhere. Eventually he reaches her corpse. Yep, definitely dead. He looks over and sees the man sitting at the table drinking sparkling water. 

“Alright, you’ve seen her. She's dead. We’re good”? Mic nods his head and squats down to look closer at your mother. “Well I'm off then, it was good knowing ya.” the man gets up from the table and walks over to the door and stops. There was a coat rack. It's raining outside so might as well grab one. He begins sifting through all the coats to pick one out. Unaware that mic is creeping up on him. The man sees a shadow and turns around only to be struck on the head and knocked out. 

He wakes up in a moving car. He tries to move but can't. Hes tied to the car seat. “HEY” he looks over and sees mic. “We had a deal, remember.” Mic looked over at him and laughed. In a spine tingling tone he answered. “You don't actually think i was gonna let you go, do you”? He said as he pulled into the police station. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shota and toshi eat peacefully at the table as you yell from upstairs. “You didn't give her pain meds?” toshi asked his fiance while chewing food. Shota scraped his fork on the plate a few times. “Nah, she needs to think about what she’s done.” he answered as he shoveled food onto his fork and ate it. He noticed the uncomfortable look on Toshi's face and looked up at the bandage on his head and pointed with his fork while chewing. “She needs to learn toshi, look at what she did to you.” 

Toshi listened to what shota said and he reached a hand up to feel the bandage on his head from being hit earlier. He then remembered the event and agreed with his fiance. So then they continued to eat peacefully as you wailed throughout the house. 

As dinner was almost over they heard the locks on the door shifting and eventually a tired worn out mic came through the door. Shota put his fork down and stood up and so did toshi. “Hey” shota said as he walked over to hizashi. “You alright, how was your day?” mic looked at him and smiled. “It was good, it was good,” he said, waving off the two. 

Toshi kissed zashi after shota said his greetings. “Come eat with us, I made dinner.” toshi said, gesturing to the dinner table. Mic shook his head. “Nah, I gotta go see y/n, I haven't seen her all day.” 

Shota looked over at toshi and gestured to him to go sit back down. Shota then grabbed hizashi’s wrist as he was trying to go see you. “Come eat.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner was peaceful. The food was delicious, and the conversations were fun. Just what mic needed after today. You haven’t wailed in an hour. They think you must have fallen asleep. Good, because shota is silently trying to find a way to break the news to his husband about what he did to you. Hizashi has always been the most emotional of the trio. All he could talk about was you at the table, things like “how is she, did she eat anything today, did she behave” shota and toshi just nodded and laughed along with zashi.

 “Did she not come to eat?” zashi asked while chewing. 

Sho and toshi looked at each other for a second before looking at zashi. “No she didnt” zashi looked confused. “Well why not, should I check on her?” he asked as he quickly put his fork down and began to stand up. Shota lunged forward quickly and grabbed his husband, sitting him back down. “ you haven’t finished your food baby”. Zashi looked at him confused. “I don't like this, shota what's going on?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“YOU WHAT?!” 

You woke up from the sudden scream and lifted your head as you heard running up the stairs. HIzashi came running into your room and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you laying there with twisted, swollen ankles. Snot dried on your face, puffy red eyes, and messy hair. 

He was mortified. He looked back down at your feet. He’s no doctor but he's pretty sure they aren't supposed to bend that way. Shota and toshi come trailing behind him. You looked at them with tears in your eyes. Your head was pounding and your throat was sore from the wailing. 

Hizashi turned towards the men. “How could you?” shota rolled his eyes. “It needed to be done, I already told you what she did. You can't keep being soft on her, that's how shit like this happens. Look at what she did to toshi” he said, pointing to the bandage on his head. 

 Hizashi walked over to you and brushed the hair out of your face and coddled you. Shota scoffed at his husband's reaction. “If you had just listened to me” , Hizashi looked up in rage. “Get out.” toshi then cut in between the two. “Look I understand-” Hizashi jumped up. “I SAID GET OUT!” toshi stopped and put his hands up and walked out leaving shota still in the room. “You too.” hizashi pointed at him with hurt in his expression. “Hiz-” “NOW” shota was stunned but complied and walked out leaving hizashi with you. 

“Its ok, everythings gonna be ok” he said as he slowly began losing his mind. He brushed the hair out of your face and ran to get pain meds and water. Completely avoiding shota as he followed him around the house trying to lecture him about just leaving you alone and that you need to suffer to learn. Hizashi completely ignored him. He grabbed a pair of clothes to change into and other necessities, including a plate of food to feed you. 

Hizashi slammed your door in shota’s face and ran over to you. “Here take these”. He said as he gave you pain meds and water. “This is gonna hurt ok”? He said as he grabbed a stack of pillows to elevate your feet on. Wincing at the wails of pain that came from you. “It’s ok, i'm gonna stay right here.” he said as he walked over and grabbed the plate of food that he left on his nightstand and sat down next to you and fed you. After feeding you and putting a blanket over you, he stood up and walked over to the other side of the bed and changed his clothes. 

He then got under the covers with you and cuddled you. “It's ok” he said over and over again as he shushed your cries. It was like that until the both of you fell asleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rays of sun beaming from your window caused you to wake up. You look over and see that hizashi has gotten up and straightened the bed back up and cleaned up the dishes from your nightstand. You smell something amazing in the air, but then remembered what happened to you last night and a wave of nausea hits you like a train. You lay your head down and breathe trying to think of anything else while the three men ate breakfast at the table downstairs. 

Hizashi is so angry at shota right now it's not even funny. But he still loves him dearly with all of his heart. So he still kisses him on the cheek and serves him breakfast. Hizashi is always the most emotional out of the trio. So it's damn near impossible for him to ever see eye to eye on shota’s discipline. Pretty much like the fun dad and mean mom. So he will never understand the ankle breaking option that shota chose. Hizashi will never agree with shota’s punishments and will never use them on you himself. He hasn’t quite had a change of heart yet, But if you keep it up, he just might. 

He kissed shota and toshi before sending them off to work and waving them goodbye from the porch. They wanted to see you before work, but hizashi wouldn’t allow it. Telling them to give it time. After the cars roll off he takes a deep breath and walks back into the house and cleans up their dishes and tries to find ways to forgive shota while washing them. He then took a plate that he made you out of the microwave and headed upstairs with it. 

You heard a few knocks on the door before it opened. You look over and see your soon to be husband walk in holding a plate of food and some juice. Long golden hair wrapped in a low bun, green iris’s lighting up behind his glasses, while wearing a tight black shirt that has a rock band on it, and black and red patterned pj pants. 

He smiles bright at you and mouths a “hey” at you while he walks towards you quietly. He sets the plate and cup on your nightstand and bends down to help you sit up. He whispers gently to you “good morning”. He rubs your head when you groan in pain. “I got some food for ya, I think you should eat, songbird.” he says while sitting on the side of the bed to then lay a hand on your legs and start rubbing it in a comforting way. “There's a doctor coming over in a few hours to give you a cast and help you with your ankles so they can heal properly. “ he says as he bends over to grab the food off the nightstand table. 

He grabs the fork and shovels some food on it. “Say ah” you roll your eyes, but do it anyway. You take the food off of the fork when he puts it in your mouth and chew. It's spicy. He looks at you expectantly and smiles. “Good?” you nod and he's practically beaming. It was boring while you ate. You weren't allowed to watch tv or read any books or even walk in that matter. That's the only thing about this punishment that hizashi can kind of agree on. So he won't let you do any of those things either. He understands that what you did is bad, so he won't let you get away with it completely. Mid meal, Hizashi started ranting about his husband and toshi. The room was too quiet and he thought that you would make a good listener. 

You were surprised most of the conversation, chewing slowly and listening closely as mic ranted about them. Learning new things about them and the things that they did, who they are as people. Shota sounded terrifying. How does mic even sleep with him? Is he a victim? The conversation started when he started talking about your ankles, then he started getting riled up and started venting. Then eventually the conversation circled back to the beginning where he was before he trailed off. 

He shoveled the last bit of food on the fork and pointed at you. “Fuck what shota thinks, he believes that you shouldn’t wear a cast or get your ankles fixed. He wants you broken. Toshi disagrees with it too, but he's a pussy. He’s scared of shota. Shotas is pretty much the man of the house.”  He said while he raised his arm with the fork in it in a mocking way. 

He finally put the fork in your mouth before finishing his rant. “Shota’s gonna kill me when he sees the cast on you.” you chew slightly traumatized but alas, you swallow it. “Alrighty then” he says smiling at you while he gathers up the plate and cup and walks out of your room. Leaving you there to think about what he said about the others. 

Hizashi will never tell them that he was the reason behind the death of your mother. That will follow him to the grave. As much as he got in shota’s face for what he did to you, He himself did something just as dreadful. He feels like a hypocrite. Even though that woman deserved the worst, she didn't deserve death. No one does. He stands and thinks about that as he washes your dishes. Starting to regret what he did. He’s never killed anyone, honest. But she lit something up in him. He loved you too much for that. Love will make you do some crazy things won't it?

He headed towards the back of the house. There's a big room, a perfect room to make an ‘at home’ recording studio. So he’ll be able to do his third job at home to spend more time with you. 

The boxes were already in there filled with everything that the studio needed, and that's how both of your days went. You spent it in bed while he was building his studio. After he finished building his studio, he took a step back and admired his work. Perfect. 

The next thing on his ‘to do’ list is to fix the lock from the door you ran out of and put more security on the locks. 

He grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge and took a few sips. “Shit might as well drill all the fucking doors shut.” he thought to himself as he threw his hands up exaggeratingly.

He was in the middle of fixing the lock on the door when he heard a knock at the front door. He dropped the tools and walked through the house while wiping his dirty hands on his pants before he opened the door. It was the doctor. One that hizashi is paying very well to keep his mouth shut about what he sees. 

He greeted the doctor and let him in and started working on your ankles. Hizashi decided to go back downstairs and finish the door so he wouldn't hear your yells of pain.

Hizashi fixed the lock and then decided to put more security on the others. He was on his knees at the front door, playing with the lock. “AHEM” hizashi turns around and sees the doctor. “Oh, sorry.” He says as he gets up and opens the door to let him out. He turned around and said “everything is perfectly fine, but from the looks of it, don't let her walk for a few weeks.” hizashi nodded and sparked a 5 minute conversation with him while you laid in bed upstairs crying from everything that you went through and had to go through. 

They both laughed and waved goodbye before he came back into the house. He then began walking upstairs to check on you. He opened the door and saw you laying down with tears in your eyes. “Hey what's the matter”? He asked. Oh as if he didnt know. “The doctor gave you cute casts and you're sad?” he said while rubbing them. This is the most frustrating thing ever. 

You just ignored him and closed your eyes while he was assuming that the others pissed you off and he was the “good” guy. 

“I want to go home,” Hizashi's head snapped up. “What”? You looked at him with rage in your face. “I. WANT. TO. GO. HOME!” He stood up and backed up.

 “What, why? After all I do for you? We’re gonna live a good, long, happy life. We’re gonna get some pets, and make babies and have a big happy family here” 

He’s honestly really delusional. You sat yourself up and yelled louder. “All you do for me? What did you possibly do to benefit me huh? Huh, Hizashi Yamada?” you screeched. He was losing his mind. He was pacing around the room. Just spiraling every second. You could see it on its face. It was almost enough to make you back down. He might be the softest, but he's the scariest, the most mentally ill. But you kept going. “IM GONNA KILL ALL OF YOU AND BURN YOUR DEAD BODIES AND RUN AW-”  Before you could finish he snapped. Turning around and harshly pointing at you “YOU ARE HOME” his face red with rage. You jumped a little from the booming voice. He began to walk closer while still pointing. “YOU'RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE! DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND ME? ANYWHERE! THIS IS YOUR HOME NOW SO YOU BETTER FUCKING GET USED TO IT!” he said as he grabbed you harshly and yanked you out of bed. “HEY, HEY” you screamed as he dragged you through the house all the way down to the basement. “NO PLEASE” you screamed as he dragged you down the stairs and into the darkness of the basement. The only light is the open door. He threw you to the ground near a metal pipe and wrapped chains around you. “Please i'll be good, i'm so sorry”

All of your pleas fell on deaf ears as he tightened the chains and yanked on them to make sure that it was tight enough. He then stood up straight and began to walk out. “This is your home. Now think about what you’ve done.” and with that he slammed the door closed. Leaving you in complete cold darkness. 

As much as you hate it, believe it or not, this….this is your life now.

#aizawa smut #yandere aizawa #mha #yandere all might #yandere erasermic #yandere present mic #yandere eraserhead #all might x reader #yandere mha

[kaaaaaaarf]

imagine if I never met the broskis

Hogwarts Era. Rated T. 1.4k words. Crack. Toronto Mans Remus.

It's at this exact moment that the door to the bathroom opens, and a much more relaxed looking Remus walks out in an entirely different wardrobe from when he went in—wearing a beige Gucci branded muggle bucket hat and a Toronto Raptors jersey over matching jogging pants.  “Wagwan, fam. Reach!” Remus grabs James’ palm and pulls him in for a one armed hug. When he pulls back, he looks him up and down admiringly, “Hooooly, your quiddich pajamas are mad lit, fam."

Okay, so I wasn't going to post this, but @imsiriuslyreading told me I should (she's really scary guys), so here it is. The concept behind this is what if Roadman Remus was actually Toronto Mans Remus.

Note: I really want to stress that this is just silliness!!! If you want to know what a Toronto Mans is, this is a great explanation, as is this video from UofT. TL;DR think Drake or a Canadian rude boi/roadman. Toronto Mans slang is a multiethnical dialect used by a wide variety of people and is a linguistical result of the Canadian cultural mosaic.

Anyways.

Ratchet Happy Birthday, Remus. 🎂

Fic under the cut.

It's Sirius Black's first night at Hogwarts. So far, it’s been everything he’d hoped for. He was sorted into Gryffindor—first Black in a hundred years to not be sorted into Slytherin. He couldn’t wait to owl his parents in the morning to let them know. Maybe he’d get a howler back! Gosh, that could be fun.   

After the sorting, he met his new roommates. First there's James, who Sirius met at dinner and immediately fell a bit in love with as he watched him stick a third year’s pet frog into the pocket of a red headed girl named Lily. Her face turned the same colour as her hair when she reached in to pull out her wand and felt slimy skin instead. It was so funny, but even he has to concede that it’s a good thing they haven’t learned how to hex anyone yet, or else she would have hexed his bollocks off. His parents would hate James, say he’s a bad influence—he's perfect. Maybe he’ll talk about his new best friend James Potter in his letter in the morning.

Next there was Peter—short and kind, with a wild sense of humour—he’s had Sirius in stitches all evening. He really should be writing the comic strips that come in packs of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, his talents feel wasted here.

Then there was Remus. Remus...well, none of them know what to make of Remus yet. He’s tall and quiet, with a wicked scar that stretches across his nose and under the golden curls that fall over his brow. He didn’t say much of anything at the feast, but the three boys overheard some of the professors saying that Remus and his family had just moved to Wales from Canada, after some sort of animal attack had happened in the Rockies. As soon as they made it to their new dorm, a tense looking Remus had shut himself in the dormitory toilets without a word. 

"Black, mind if I use the toilet next? I drank too much pumpkin juice at the feast."

Sirius looks over at James from where he’s hanging up a Holyhead Harpies poster. "Yeah, no worries, Potter. You’re welcome to it if Remus ever comes out. Do you think he’s okay in there?”

It's at this exact moment that the door to the bathroom opens, and a much more relaxed looking Remus walks out in an entirely different wardrobe from when he went in—wearing a beige Gucci branded muggle bucket hat and a Toronto Raptors jersey over matching jogging pants. 

“Wagwan, fam. Reach!” Remus grabs James’ palm and pulls him in for a one armed hug. When he pulls back, he looks him up and down admiringly, “Hooooly, your quiddich pajamas are mad lit, fam."

The three other boys look at each other, confused tilts to their brows. “Er—sorry, Remus. What do you mean fam?”

“Oh, before I was sayin’ fam, I was sayin’ bro, and before I was sayin’ bro, I was sayin’ dog. And a dog and a bro are still your fam, so I just took away the dog, took away the bro, and now I'm sayin’ fam.”

Remus moves over to his trunk, putting away his robe and clothes from dinner. Sirius leans into James’ space, smiling at Remus in a way that he guesses is a bit mad in the way that it doesn’t quite reach his wide eyes, whispering, "Do you know what he’s on about?"

James shakes his head, "No idea...Pete, any guesses?”

Peter shuffles across the room to join them, "Oh, my great aunt Perpetua is from Canada. I can try to translate. So far I think he’s said he quite likes your pyjamas, James, and he seems to think we’re his family.”

James looks pleased with that, and tries to start over, "So, Remus—what do your parents do for a living?"

"My parents are muggles, fam. They just get money, I dun know, they don't really have jobs, but they got hustle. They finesse down Weston Road, fam. They finessin' the mans out of their pockets."

Sirius and James both look at Peter, who just shrugs with a frantic look in his eyes. Sirius shakes his head and grins at Remus like he understands, "Oh, right mate. Where in Canada did you say you were from again?"

"I didn’t. I'm from the 6ix—Weston Road, fam, you already know! It's plush."

James looks hesitant when he replies, "Oh, er. We didn't already know...that's why we asked. Never heard of the 6ix."

Remus nods at them, a look of sadness suddenly crossing his lovely face, “Turonno, fam. Weston Road’s a little bit rough, I didn't fit in too much at school, fam. I used to come home and chill on the block—Weston lines, you already know. But I would say if you know what's up, stay with yourself, you move how you move, fam.”

“...Sure.”

“—but it's cool, cause now I'm here with my new fam, you know?” Remus jumps up and down suddenly excited, a spark in his eye, “Oh! Fam, fam—let me tell you the story about how I almost died smoking a muggle cigarette."

Peter rears back at that, "You were smoking a muggle cigarette? Are you not eleven like the rest of us?"

“I’m thirteen, fam. Anyways, so here I go outside to smoke a cigarette, and I'm on my porch sittin' down. I was bare tired fam, bare tired. Then a car drives by slowly. He's grillin' me, so I'm grillin' him."

Sirius tugs on James’ pyjamas, “Do you have any idea what's happening?”

“Not a clue, mate.”

Remus doesn’t seem deterred by their whispering, “So I got the cigarette in my mouth right, and I'm grillin' him, and he rolls his window down and he starts shootin' me like bom bom bom.”

“He starts shooting you!?”

“And like, fuck, fam—I was cheezed. After the first shot I fell, but they hit me so I flipped over. I ran into my back yard fam, and I hopped a fence, and when I hopped the fence I realized the bogie was still in my hand, and I was like what the hell is this bogie still doin' in my hand, so I tossed it and I was like fuck and I ran to the store."

Sirius turns to the other boys, “Pete, really going to need you to translate here.”

“I…I don’t know…”

“I thought you said your aunt was from Canada!”

Pete looks frantic, “Yeah, Manitoba! She says eh and oot instead of out. Not...whatever this is.”

Remus still doesn’t seem to notice their crisis. “—and I asked the store man one more time, did I get shot? And he's like yes. So I'm like call the ambulance, fam!"

There’s a long silence then. The three boys look at each other, waiting to see if he's going to finish the story, but he doesn't.

After a minute, a pale looking Pete mutters, "Crikey."

James shifts from foot to foot and offers, "Erm...well, we're glad you're alright, aren't we chaps?"

Sirius nods profusely, "Yeah, yeah, yes. So glad."

"Yeah, for sure, fam. That was some scary shite. That was the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life, it was moshed. That's why I changed my rap name."

After another beat of silence where nothing else is offered, Sirius mumbles, “...Right.”

Remus jumps onto the end of his bed, swinging his legs, “Anyways, you don' wanna hear about that shit, fam. You wanna hear about the time I got gerked by this wolf? I gerked him back though, don' worry."

James looks at his wrist as if he were wearing a muggle watch, “Erm, it’s late and we're a bit tired, aren't we lads?"

Peter and Sirius answer in enthusiastic agreement, “So tired. Exhausted, really.”

“Ah, no worries, fam. You mind if I listen to Drake before bed? My moms got me this sick muggle music player, fam. Helps me sleep.”

Sirius has no idea what a Drake is, but he’s relieved to be getting out of this conversation, “Yeah, yeah, go for it, mate. Have a good night.”

He soon finds out, and as he lays back on his bed, listening to this Drake sing about God’s Plan, he thinks of the dimple on Remus’ cheek whenever he says fam and the way it makes something swoop in his belly.

It’s going to be an interesting year.

#fic: toronto mans remus #remus lupin #sirius black #marauders #wolfstar #james potter #petey p #Spotify #not posting this to ao3 because reasons

[pennyellee]

preview of chapter IV

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, kidnapping, mentions of God, blood, incision wound, fictive mafia clan traditions, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, mentions of death, overwhelming, violence, threats, intimate encounter, kissing

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 744

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

author's note: and scene! chapter four is coming soon :))) meanwhile thirst over Kkangpae Min and his soon to be Buin...more will be yours at the end of this month ♥

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV

“—and?” Yoongi asked as he unbuttoned his shirt, a sight she had seen far too often for her liking. He was not shy with her; he could easily undress before her without a second thought. His attempts to walk in on her while she was changing didn't go unnoticed either, though she made sure to show her displeasure by throwing vases at him to keep him out.

Only now did Y/N remember the glass of alcoholic beverage that Namjoon had offered her, remaining untouched in her hands. She decided to take a sip, trying to ease her nerves before the conversation she was dreading.

“—and everything went well, as expected,” said Namjoon observing her as she downed the burning soju.

“Send telegraph to Wang and other families. We’re leaving for Chosen in two hours.” Y/N straightened herself, eyes wide open in disbelief.

“W-what do you mean in two hours?” She stammered. It was just past eight when she gazed at the clock on the wall. That would mean they'd depart at ten and arrive in Seoul around midnight.

"—I thought they just cleared the way. Why are we—" Yoongi cut her off abruptly. "I am waiting no more," he said firmly, locking his gaze with hers, leaving her in shock once again.

"On your way, please inform the maids to pack, and I want the cabin ready," Yoongi instructed Namjoon, who memorized every task with a sense of responsibility, seemingly disregarding Y/N's shattered spirit in the wake of this sudden rush.

“Can we at least talk about it?!” she raised her voice, causing the two men to stop in their tracks. They exchanged knowing looks, making it clear that this was non-negotiable. Yoongi clicked his tongue, biting his cheeks from inside, then turned to face his fiancée with a deceptive sweetness in his tone.

"Of course, my love," he said.

He nodded to Namjoon, who immediately took off, glancing at Y/N with a silent reminder to behave.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asked nonchalantly as if this were a perfectly normal scenario.

“I don’t know, do you think this is right?” Y/N kept her tone tense, signalling her discontent.

“Nothing is more right than this,” he answered, pouring himself a drink while taking her empty glass and refilling it with soju.

"Yoongi—" she began to protest, but he didn't let her speak further, having heard her excuses countless times.

“No Y/N. I’m not negotiating this time. We’re getting married tomorrow afternoon and that’s final,” he stated sternly.

"You could at least wait a day! Do you think everyone will just jump because you said it's happening right now? And more importantly, let me mentally prepare for it?!” Her frustration grew, and she gestured wildly, almost knocking over the refilled glass that Yoongi handed her.

“They are already in town. The telegraph is just a confirmation that it will happen tomorrow.” Her distress and panic were understandable; she had believed she had more time than a few hours.

“And you didn’t think of telling me first?!” she raised her voice even higher. That she was in distress and panic was very understandable. Y/N thought she had more time than a few hours.

“No, because you were finally letting me in—” said he, downing the contents of his glass in one go.

“You knew this would happen for a month, and you would have had more time to prepare yourself if running away fifteen hundred times a day wouldn’t be on your mind,” he fired back, raising his voice at her, and immediately asserting dominance.

"I'm getting very tired of this. One step forward and ten million miles back, damn it!" he cursed, slamming the glass down on his desk in frustration. The tension in the room was palpable, and Y/N felt her heart sinking as she realized that her hopes of a slower pace for their relationship had been shattered.

“I have a very easy solution to that—” she said, raising herself to stand up to him.

“—Let me go,” she emphasized every single word, her frustration boiling over, and momentarily forgetting about her deal with Namjoon.

Her emotions were running high, and she went to pull the ring off to prove her point, but he forcefully grabbed her right hand, stopping her in her tracks. Anger filled his eyes as he crossed his other hand, grabbed her by the back of her neck, and crashed his lips onto hers, pressing their bodies against the nearest wall.

.

.

.

.

coming soon

©pennyellee. please do not repost

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

let's be friends chummers ♥

lots of love,

𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

taglist: @beautifulcloudfestival - @chaoticpuff17 - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss

#bts #bts fic #yandere yoongi #yandere bts #yandere namjoon #soft yandere #mafia au #yandere seokjin #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #hard yandere #yandere #yandere kpop #yandere taehyung #mafia bts #lacrimosa #myg angst #dark!yoongi #min yoongi x y/n #bts x you #yoongi smut #haegeum #suga x you #suga x y/n #suga x reader #historical au #bts historical au #bts yandere au #fic:lacrimosa

[apothe-roses]

Se agapo, se thelo

Eros!Aemond x Psyche!ufc (could be read as x reader)

Part 1

Ludus: playful or uncommitted love

Summary: A mission from his grandfather leads to Aemond having an unexpected reunion

Warnings: discussions of cheating, death during childbirth, toxic family dynamics, no beta read

Word count: 2007

A/n: after weeks of procrastinating, here we go…

Aemond soared through the clouds, his powerful wings propelling him forward. His eye carefully watched the ground below. Many years had passed since that fateful day. Aemond had grown from a sullen child to a beautiful young man. The softness of youth gave way to sharp features and lean muscles. He had learned to adjust to life without his full vision. The scar he sustained had faded to a red mark cutting into his brow and cheek. In the socket, he had placed a brilliant sapphire that glittered in the midday light.

Aemond alights on a dense cloud. He peers over the edge to the mortal world below. The mortals go about their day, oblivious to the god watching them. His gaze flits from mortal to mortal until he zeroes in on one. He reaches over his shoulder to pull an arrow from the quiver slung across his back.

The quiver and its matching bow were a gift from his nephews after the loss of his eye. They claimed it was an apology. Aemond saw it as a cruel joke. He almost threw the “gift” off the edge of the mountain, but his mother caught him.

“You’ll only be giving them what they want,” she had said. “Prove to them they can’t hurt you anymore.” So he did, he re-learned archery on his non-dominant side until he could shoot with deadly accuracy. At least he would be if his arrows were deadly. Instead, whoever is truck by them is filled with intense feelings of desire and passions for whoever Aemond wants them to want.

He still wondered about the nature of true love. He would often observe the mortals and their interactions. They intrigued him; mortals were equally capable of great love and hatred. In that sense, they were a lot like gods, only they couldn’t level mountains or create storms. Sometimes, he would…experiment by loosing an arrow on a particular target. He would do this to test a hypothesis or to punish—or because he was bored.

He thought about the mortal girl who comforted him all those years ago. He often wondered where she was or how she was doing, but he didn’t let himself dwell on her for too long. Bad things happened to gods who became besotted with mortals.

He aimed his arrow at his chosen target, pulling the string taut. Steady. Steady. And…

“Aemond!”

Aemond started, the arrow whipping through the breeze to the ground below. He turned angrily to find none other than his nephew Lucerys. Luke didn’t have wings like him, so he used winged sandals to fly. Father had never punished him for taking Aemond’s eye; instead, he named him messenger of the gods. Which meant he had to see him any time someone had a message for him—and Aegon loved to use him to send messages he could easily tell him himself.

“What?” Aemond snapped.

“Your grandsire requested your presence at his villa,” Lucerys replies, eyeing the arrows in his quiver warily.

“Tell him I’ll be along soon,” Aemond says, turning to scan the earth. The arrow missed, lodging in the dirt instead of his target.

“He wants to see you now,” Luke explains. Aemond sighs. He reaches out his hand, and the arrow flies back into his waiting palm. He returns it to his quiver.

“Fine,” he hisses. His wings snap open, and he soars off, the breeze causing his nephew to fall off balance. Aemond feels a twinge of satisfaction hearing Luke’s shout of surprise.

His grandfather’s villa comes into view. Aemond swallows the last of his frustration as he flies through one of the open windows. He gracefully lands on his feet and takes in his surroundings. The room is mostly bare, save for a table and chairs—and the three winged gods sitting in those chairs. He’s slightly surprised to see all three of his siblings are gathered, or rather he’s surprised Aegon deigned to show up.

“Brother!” Aegon exclaims, raising his goblet. “How wonderful of you to join us!”

Aemond rolls his eyes, taking a seat at the table across from Helaena. Aemond gaze flits from sibling to sibling. He can tell they’re as confused as he is. Even Aegon, his nervousness evident by the rhythmic tapping of his finger against his goblet. Why were they called here?

Luckily, Aemond doesn’t have to wonder for long. The doors open, and their grandfather breezes into the room. Ottonius, or Otto, is a proud god. Straight-backed and humorless, Otto commands respect and authority. The siblings—except for Aegon—stiffen at his arrival.

“Children,” Otto greets brusquely. Aemond bristles. With the exception of young Daeron, they were men and women grown.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I called you here,” Otto continues, taking a seat at the head of the table. “I won’t mince words. There’s a mortal girl who has recently come of age. Our spies are claiming she’s the second coming of Aemma.”

Aemma. Rhaenyra’s mother. Aemond and his siblings have heard the story countless times.

Viserys wasn’t loyal in the early days of his marriage. He rarely joined his lawful wife in the marriage bed, but he joined plenty of mortals, nymphs, and all sorts of creatures in their beds. The final straw for Alicent was Aemma. She was only a mortal woman, but she somehow won the heart of the king of the gods. It wasn’t long before she was pregnant, and Viserys doted on her more than he ever did his wife. He even planned to set aside Alicent and take Aemma as his wife, raising her to godhood and making her queen of the gods. When Alicent learned of this, it broke her. She couldn’t raise a finger against Viserys, but she could punish his mortal lover. She induced Aemma’s labor early, which lead to the woman losing her life. Rhaenyra survived, barely. Viserys was beside himself with grief. He and Alicent struck a deal: he could bring his daughter to be raised among the gods and be granted immortality. In exchange, he must be loyal to Alicent and make an effort to give her children. She would go on to bear him four children, but he never loved them the way he loved Rhaenyra, the last remnant of the woman he loved.

“Why should we care about some mortal? Even if she’s like that woman, she’s a mortal,” Aegon drawls.

“Which means she can be easily dealt with,” Otto says through gritted teeth.

“But the deal-,” Daeron starts.

“The deal was of Viserys remained faithful, she wouldn’t touch Rhaenyra,” Otto explains. “But now Rhaenyra is queen of the Underworld. Your mother couldn’t do anything to her without risking the ire of her husband.”

Otto sighs, looking at each of his grandchildren in turn. “If your mother is set aside, it could mean ruination for all of us. Exile. Punishment. Damnation. I refuse to see my line brought to such shame, even if I have to incinerate thousands of mortals.”

Silence. No one makes eye contact. Aemond’s hands clench into fists.

“I’ll take care of it,” he finally says. Otto looks at him.

“If you’re worried about her catching father’s eye, then all we must do is make her undesirable.”

Otto nods. “Very good, son.” He produces a roll of parchment from his robe. “This is where you’ll find the girl. I’ll leave the rest up to your discretion. Just get the job done as soon as possible.

“I won’t fail you grandsire,” Aemond says solemnly. Otto nods again, stands, and leaves the room. Aemond also roses, but Helaena surges up before he can leave.

“No, brother! You mustn’t!” Helaena runs up to him. “This mortal will cause you immense pain. The likes of which you’ve never experienced before!”

“All the more reason to take care of her,” Aegon rebuts.

“I am no stranger to pain, dear sister. I’m sure whatever this mortal does to me cannot match the pain I’ve already experienced,” Aemond says cooly, indicating to the scar on his face. “This is for our mother. For us.”

And with that, Aemond turned, spread his wings, and flew out into the open sky. Helaena frowned at her brother.

“Our dear younger brother has no idea what he’s getting himself into,” Helaena whispers.

Aemond peers over the edge of a cloud to the mortal world below. It hadn’t taken him long to find the village in question; it was located close to the mount he called home. This gave him some pause. The girl from childhood had lived close to the mount as well.

He shook off his trepidation. That was years ago; she’s likely married or living far away by now.

Aemond continues to watch the mortals below until he zeroes in on one in particular. A girl, arm in arm with a man who must be her father. Right when grandfather said they would arrive. Perfect. He could be done with this by firing just one arrow. He wonders how he would go about this. Should he make her fall in love with some beast? Should he make some lowlife fall in love with her?

Observe he thinks. See what she does. Who she interacts with.

Aemond untucks his wings. He’s ready to take off when the girl lowers the scarf covering her head. He freezes.

It’s her. Older, yes, but definitely her. The girl who showed him kindness and care at his lowest. Grandfather wanted her punished? Why? He needed to get closer. Aemond soared to the edge of the village, where he transformed himself into a mortal beggar. His sharp, elegant features replaced with plain ones. His eye was still missing, a patch covering the socket.

He makes his way into the village. No one pays him any mind, partly due to his disguise and partly due to the mist he shrouded himself in. Better to be safe than sorry.

Rounding a corner, he finally spots her. From the ground, he can truly take in her appearance. She was pretty when they were children, but as a woman she was undeniably a beauty. He didn’t think mortals were capable of being so beautiful, but he supposed other gods wouldn’t bother if they were all ugly and plain.

Aemond slumps against the wall, hunching over as a beggar would. He forces himself to keep his eyes on the ground, though he allows himself to look up when a shadow passes over him.

“Hello,” she says with a small smile. “Would you like some bread?”

Aemond doesn’t respond. He can’t. Her voice is so soft, so sweet. He can’t remember the last time a person spoke to him in such a way. Maybe his sister, but Helaena is soft spoken with everyone. This softness is directed for him and only him. Finally, Aemond remembers himself and manages to nod. The girl reaches into her basket, taking out a small loaf of bread. When she gives it to him, their hands brush for a moment. He relishes the softness, the smoothness. When she pulls her hand away, he is more than tempted to grab her once more.

Looking back to her face, he notices she’s looking back rather intently. However, she blushes and averts her gaze once their eyes meet.

“Sorry,” stammers. “I don’t mean to stare. It’s just…you remind me of someone I met long ago. I thought…oh well, he could be anywhere now. I hope he’s well, or as well as he can be.”

She remembered him. She remembered him. She may think him a mortal, but she remembered him.

Just then, her father calls for her. “I must go, now,” she says, turning to go. She pauses, before looking back over her shoulder.

“Safe travels, friend,” she tells him, before walking to her father. He remains rooted to the spot, watching her and her father disappear around a corner. How can someone hold so much compassion for a mere stranger? He wanted to know. Needed to know. And he would.

Taglist: @chompchompluke @misguidedguardian @purpleskiesandroses @persephonerinyes @itsabby15 @fan-goddess @auroranodyssey @tsujifreya @juliets-obsession-corner @queenofshinigamis (bold means i couldn’t tag you)

#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #se agapo se thelo #HotD #house of the dragon

[twodiamondhoes]

There's No Kind of Atmosphere (WIP)

A Scarian Red Dwarf AU

The door to their bunk slid open, the pneumatics swishing in a way that was familiar to Scar the same way that his own heartbeat was, when it thundered in the silence of being the last alive of over a thousand crew members.

Familiar, too, was the low hum of Grian's light bee, alerting Scar to his presence before he was even all the way through the door. Scar would never admit it, but the sound was nearly as comforting as the rumble of the ship's engine from seventy decks below.

He glanced over at his bunkmate, and was unsurprised to see him sitting at the table by their lockers, fully ignoring his astronav textbook in favor of arguing with the toaster.

"Yes, well, if I wanted a treatise on the universal quandaries of toast, I'd go to you, wouldn't I? But if, say, I didn't, which I don't, then your opinion would be entirely irrelevant."

"Rude," the toaster replied, it's voice still crackling from the last time Scar had punted it across the room. He needed to fix its voice box soon.

"You'll be lucky if you get lukewarm bread tomorrow morning," Scar said, before the toaster could start insulting Grian. They'd be at it all night, if he did, and while Grian might not need to sleep, Scar certainly did. Besides, he knew Grian liked sleeping, liked holding onto the facsimile of life, even if he was closer to being like Mumbo or Etho than he was to Scar. And it would be Scar who'd hear about it all day tomorrow, if he didn't nip this in the bud right now.

Grian stiffened, his back returning to it's usual ramrod-straightness. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth. If he weren't a hologram, Scar thought, he'd be giving himself a devil of a headache. Then again, if ever there was a man who could give himself a simulation of a headache, it would be Grian.

"Fancy seeing you here," Grian said, his voice stiff, impassable. Scar resisted the urge to tell him he wasn't seeing anything, since he refused to so much as turn and look at Scar.

"It might come as a surprise," he said instead, trying to inject some humor into the situation. Sometimes Scar thought it would be easier to tell knock-knock jokes to a wall and get a laugh, "given my magnificence, but as amazing as I am, I do still need to sleep."

Scar could hear Grian's teeth grinding together, which was a feat, considering Grian was a projection made entirely of light, and didn't have any real teeth to grind. Scar would have to applaud Mumbo about his dedication to the facsimile of Grian, at some point.

"Let me rephrase, then. I'm surprised you're sleeping here."

Scar felt the world spin a little at the way that Grian's dark eyes cut over to him, looking at him at last, even as he felt his cheeks heat at the... well at the implications of it all.

"Oh," Scar said, because it was all that he could think of. He swung himself up onto his bunk, because it was easier than trying to figure out what Grian's face was doing, and what what Grian's face was doing was doing to him. He laid back, intending to leave it there, and heard Grian's sharp, irritated exhale. Then, because he couldn't leave well enough alone, he asked, "what do you think of her?"

"She's a git," Grian said automatically, and with a vehemence that Scar honestly didn't expect. He swung himself up so that his legs hung over the side of his bunk and looked at Grian again, ignoring the way his bones went sort of itchy with a feeling he wouldn't name when he did.

"Grian," he said, exasperated, "she's you."

Grian didn't answer. At first, Scar thought that that would be it, Grian would try and ignore the conversation, but then he said, in his most standoffish tone, "It's been three million years, Scar. I've always been dedicated to the plight of women in the world, and I think it's high time we all admitted that women can be gits, too."

"That's not," Scar cut himself off with a groan. It was worse than Grian trying to ignore the conversation. He was being willfully obtuse. Scar hated when Grian was willfully obtuse about things. It made him so much more stubborn. "That's not what I mean, and you know it."

Grian slammed the hologrammatic book closed. It dislodged the simulation of a dust jacket, revealing not Advanced Properties of Physics and You, but the startlingly yellow cover of Astronavigation for Dummies. Scar thought it made a satisfying noise, even if it was a little tinny, not as robust as slamming a real book shut would be. Grian stood up, passing through the chair he'd been almost-sitting in, and tucked the book under his arm. That, more than anything, clued Scar in to how upset Grian really was by all of this. He could pass through objects without trouble--had to, actually, given as a hologram, he couldn't touch anything--but he went out of his way to avoid it. Scar suspected it was another way to hold onto life, whatever way he could.

"Yes, yes," Grian said, his voice dripping with cheer, "we all know how taken you are with her and her space heroics, and her ponytail, it's all a bit sickening, really. Still, when you get around to it, do send me a save the date, so I can have Etho burn it."

"Grian," Scar began, but found he was speaking to Grian's back as he swept out of the room. He sighed, turning to the darkened screen in the corner of the room. "Where did I go wrong, Mumbo?"

The projection of the ship's computer flared to life, Mumbo's face twisted in sympathy.

"I'm no expert, mate, and this is just a guess, but I think it might have been when you asked him about Miss Griande."

Scar groaned again, frustrated beyond belief, and let himself fall back onto the thin mattress of his bunk.

"Lights," he called, and the room faded into darkness around him. He laid there a while, pretending to sleep, until a familiar hum returned to the room.

"Lights," Grian whispered, "dimmed."

Behind his closed eyelids, Scar noticed the lights raise infinitesimally. Something rose in him at the gesture. Grian had to know he wasn't asleep, he jabbed at Scar often enough about his snoring, but he still made the gesture, careful not to wake Scar. Careful to help them both maintain Scar's plausible deniability.

Grian sighed, sounding half frustrated, and half something Scar didn't quite recognize with his eyes closed.

Part of him wanted to ask what was wrong, but with the familiar hum of Grian's light bee finally back in the bunk below his, sleep was already stealing over Scar's consciousness.

#wix writes #rdau #scarian #trafficshipping #(implied) #posting this little wip of my take on what would be the Ace vs Arnie debacle #Ariana Griande: bringer of hope to the universe #vs Grian: neurotic prankster plagued by trauma and the thought that he can never live up to his full potential #don't think too hard about it. the showrunners certainly didn't. we run on roger rabbit rules here.

[leeus-writing]

Suddenly finding Her

The request was: Vincent Soulmates NSFW

Suddenly finding Her

Soul mates, wasn’t a term that Vincent believed in. After all, why would your ‘Soul Mate’ betray you? Wasn’t Lucrecia supposed to be his soul mate. She left him, for Hojo. Where was she now? And what was he now?

Vincent shook his head.

People who clamed they had found their Soulmates had ‘markings’. Tattoos, nothing but tattoos.

Vincent sighed and sipped his drink. He’d leave the bar soon, the talk of Soul mates was annoying enough in every day life but, having it on TV blurting out across the entire Bar was almost too much. The pain in his heart was still healing. Everyday that hole got a little smaller, but right now, it felt like it was being torn open.

Laughter, like chimes on a wind chime reached his ears. He turned a little and saw her. She was sat with friends laughing and joking. She placed her hand over her mouth stifling the laugh as her friend mimed something.

Vincent downed his drink and stood up. Something caught his attention as someone let out a yelp. Vincent moved fast, catching the woman with the chime like laugh just before her chair hit the floor. She looked up at him, eyes locking together. Something in his body slammed closed. A weight lifted from Vincent’s chest, and it was like he caught his breath for the first time.

“T-thank you,” Her voice was so small her hand pressed to his chest.

Vincent nodded and let go after she righted herself. He frowned seeing a some red curls and dots on her arm.

“Umm… Nice tattoo,” he commented gesturing to them.

“I… What? I don’t have t-” she cut off looking at her arm.

Her eyes widened and she looked at Vincent who shifted a little on his feet. He was confused, and cocked his head to one side.

“You… never had that before?” He asked.

She shook her head.

Slowly Vincent unbuttoned his shirt and there on his chest was a new mark. Red Curls and dots. Identical to hers. His eyes widened and he looked at her.

Soul mates.

|  |

She turned and muttered something to her friends who all looked a little excited. One even clapped and gave her a thumbs up. She turned to Vincent and hooked her arm in his leading him away.

“We… Better talk,” She said to him.

Her voice was filled with nerves. Why wouldn’t she be, this man, whom she’d never met was supposed to be HER life partner. Her Soul mate.

They sat at a booth, ordered some more drinks, and snacks. She introduced herself to him, told him about things. He smiled listening to her, she sounded fun. Like a breath of fresh air. Different to Vincent, but in a good way.

Eventually the night moved into early morning. She stood smiling at Vincent.

“Um, do you want to come back to mine. I’m renting a small apartment nearby. We can talk some more…” He said hands gripped.

Was this to far? Could people do things wrong and loose their soul mate forever? She smiled and giggled a little.

“Sure,” She replied.

Vincent nodded turning to go. She ran to his side walking beside him, picking up the conversation again. Listening to his story. He was reluctant to open up about his past. About what happened with Lucrecia, just commenting that she was a past girlfriend.

Vincent opened the door to his rented apartment, their eyes locking together again. She reached up and kissed him.

Vincent responded in kind, cupping her face with his good hand, shutting the door behind him. He picked her up pressing her into the wall. She picked at his buttons as Vincent slipped his hand up her skirt, clutching her butt. She gasped a little as his lips moved to her neck. Her hands ran across his chest, feeling a marks of his scars.

Vincent slipped her into a carry position moving her to the sofa. Laying her gently down on the cushions. He positioned himself above her, hand up her skirt again, pulling her panties free. Fingers going deep into her already wet Pussy. She moaned thrusting into his hand needing more.

Vincent enjoyed feeling her rolling on his fingers. He continued to kiss up her neck fingers moving in a rhythm. Her hands moved down from his shirt, working on his belt and leather trousers. Feeling her hands into his pants. Vincent let out an animalistic growl as her hand wrapped around his thick cock.

She pumped him in time with the rhythm of his fingers. Moaning into each kiss. He shifted off of her pulling his cock free, positioning himself over her he push into her body. She gasped pushing back. squeezing her eyes shut. Both marks were glowing now as the two of them fucked.

His body slammed hard and deep into her pussy. Her hands gripped the cushion pillow behind her. Vincent thumbed her clit and her body squeezed hard as she came in a long loud moan. The action causing Vincent to fall over the edge with her. His seed spilling into her body with two shuddering thrusts, snarling.

He slowly sank down onto her body kissing her slowly.

“Hmm, I think I could do this again. Getting to know you, having fun with you,” She whispered kissing him back.

Vincent’s heart leapt, the pain now a distant memory.

#ff7 #ff7r #vincent valentine #vincent x reader #ff7 vincent valentine #ff7 x reader

[heard-nsfw-is-back]

yknow the thing where you're in a really bad accident and you imagine another person there comforting you? Swag. Here you go.

Ghost was 16 when he first imagined Johnny. His family was shit and after a particularly bad week he was left basically to rot outside. He was so sure he was going to die. Planned on it. Would be a nice change of pace honestly. But someone picked him up and laid him back against their chest. A soft voice begging him to 'wake up!' and to 'stay awake!' Simon turned as best he could to see who it was. The face was fuzzy and the voice was fading in and out with his consciousness. "Stay awake. Talk to me." The other person demanded. Simon sighed, and just.. let it out. Talked about how shitty his life was and how it would never end. How pissed he was that a person didn't even let him die. He felt some energy come back after resting and stood up. He turned around to see the person better, but they were gone.

Simon was 20 when he saw Johnny again. He had given his savior a name but couldn't for the life of him give him a face. Figures he would get a psychotic break and imagine someone giving a shit about him. It wasn't until he was locked in a storage room being pulled apart and strung up to dry did he see his savior again. This time when he heard the voice he made sure to look. To memorize the face. A nice tan, sweet honey eyes a really shitty haircut overgrown mullet. Warm, rough hands cradled his face encouraging him to focus on his body again. As soon as he got back in touch with reality, the pain hit him like a freight train. Somehow the autopsy cuts were sewn shut, his face was still open and dribbling but he was alive! Loud banging and yelling at the storage room door and it fell over. Price climbed in and saw Simon sewing up his face and called for an emergency evac ASAP.

Simon Riley was dead. He was Ghost now. Had been for years. No one remembered that name, save a few higher ups. He would have terrible nightmares and would have to shake himself awake from them. His scars had inched and burned and somehow he would have to justify that to himself. A small price to pay for living. With himself and his deeds.

A few years later he was being pulled in to a briefing room. A few faces he knew from various files or past missions, some he didn't know. But one face, in the corner he would know anywhere. He would know it without ever seeing it. He was staring too hard and the man looked up at him, confused but kind and Simon felt unsure of himself. "Nice to meet you Ghost. Soap MacTavish. You can call me" "Johnny." Simon breathed. At this Soap did look confused but defensive. "Yeah but." Simon pointed at his personal file that was open, thankfully. "Oh uh yeah good eyes." Johnny blushed and if that wasn't the prettiest thing Ghost ever saw.

After the briefing Ghost was holed up in his room. Did the person that save him just look exactly like Soap? Was it actually Soap but he was being coy? Did he forget? Angels didn't exist in Ghost's world. Barely was there in Simon's. Maybe his savior just picked a face that would be kind. The way that Johnny's eyes shone when he smiled couldn't be faked. Maybe, just maybe, Simon could live again.

Am I feeding y'all or what. Come get your ghoap soup *banging on pots and pans*

#cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost x soap

[wyntereyez]

Okay, here’s what I have so far of the starfish story.  If you have any title suggestions, lemme know!

Starfish story

The months following Milah’s death were the darkest in Killian Jones’ life.  Mad with pain and grief, he’d done Pan’s bidding in the most brutal ways, earning the moniker of “Hook” as he sliced his bloody path across the seas.

Over time, though his rage never burned out, it did burn cooler. He didn’t feel remorse for his brutality, but he knew he was no longer the man he’d been.  He’d been vicious before, but now he was becoming cruel. His self-loathing grew each time he’d buried his hook in someone’s guts.

Captain Hook was a monster.

And the bloody thing taunted him.  The hook was an efficient weapon, but it came at a cost.  His arm had never healed properly beneath the brace, and it was prone to pains that shouldn’t exist.

The pains were worse than normal tonight.  He’d blocked a cudgel with his brace, and the blow caused a sharp pain to shoot through his arm, from his elbow to the tips of the fingers he no longer possessed, and the pain had only worsened since.

He could feel those missing fingers spasm, and there was no way to soothe the pain except oblivion.

He sent his crew on shore leave for the next few days so he could brood alone in his cabin, watching the shadows lengthen as the sun sank below the horizon, not feeling in any hurry to light his lamp. He had his brace off, and he didn’t want to see the scarred mass of tissue.

In the dark, with this pain, he could pretend he still had his hand.

“I have a gift for you.”

Hook took a swig of his rum and glared at the boy who had appeared in the chair across him. He had no idea if Pan had simply appeared, or if he’d been too inebriated to notice, and he didn’t care. “Go away,” he growled.

Pan held up an elegant glass vial swinging on a silver chain. The contents glowed orange, casting an eerie glow in the Jolly Roger’s darkened cabin. The boy’s face looked demonic in the infernal light.

“All right. But it seems like the kind of magic that would interest you.” Pan studied the glowing vial in his hand. Hook scoffed. “It’s called the Starfish Elixir,” Pan said.  “Silly name, I know, but appropriate.  One sip of this, and you’ll never have to worry about lost limbs again.”

Hook remembered a beach, long ago, his hand held by a tall, barely-remembered woman with fiery hair.  He’d laughed whenever the waves swept past his feet, splashing his legs, tickling him. A flash of orange had caught his attention: an uneven starfish had ridden the wave, two of its arms merely little nubs.  Killian had expressed his sadness at the creature’s deformity, but his mother had smiled and told him that it was the starfish’s gift, to regrow what had been cut away.  Soon, she’d told him, it would have five strong arms again.

He was intrigued in spite of himself. “It regrows lost limbs,” Hook said hoarsely.

“And other parts, yes.  Except for heads, of course.” Pan let the vial dangle between them. “I imagine it would be very useful to a pirate.”

“What’s the price?” Hook asked warily.  Pan, he’d learned quickly, gave nothing without strings attached.

“No price,” Pan said. “You’ve served me well this past year. Consider this an award for going above and beyond your duties, and the promise of more riches to come.”

Decision made, Hook snatched the vial from Pan, popped the cork, and downed the contents.

“I said a sip,” Pan yelled, yanking the vial from Hook’s hand.  He scowled at the half-empty vial. “I have no idea what too much of this will do. I guess we’ll find out.” He met Hook’s gaze. “You should probably lay down. You’re in for a really rough night. Or five.”

Hook’s vision had started to swim, and when he tried to stand, the room began to spin around him. His last memory was of Pan shoving him towards his bed, then everything went black.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Hook awoke from what felt at first like the worst hangover he’d ever experienced. He groaned and forced his eyes to open, then closed them again as the sun hit him in the face. The light seared through his lids, and he threw his hand up to cover his face.

His beard, he noticed, seemed longer than it should have been after one night of growth. Confused, he ran his fingers through the coarse hair, estimating that he’d somehow acquired a week’s worth of growth.

Which must be why his belly was growling more fiercely than an ogre.

How long had he been out? He’d had some bad reactions to drink before, but he’d never lost an entire week to it! What had -

The elixir! Hook’s eyes shot open, and he sat up, ignoring his head’s protest. He lifted his arms, hardly daring to hope.

And he was still disappointed.

One hand.  He still only had one hand.

He examined the scarred flesh of his stump in confusion, looking for any sign of new growth beneath the heavy calluses from his brace.  But there was nothing.

“Bloody child,” he snarled as he staggered to his feet. “You lied.”

“I would never.” Pan’s voice came from above him, and Hook turned towards the windows. The boy was lounging in the centermost window, lips tipped up in amusement.

Hook held up his stump. “Does it look like it worked?” he snarled. His other hand reached for the cutlass leaning against his desk.

In one smooth motion, Pan flipped off the window ledge, his sword flashing out and down through Hook’s right wrist like a hot knife through butter.

His hand fell to the floor with a wet thump, and Hook could only stare in shock as blood fountained up, and then he started to scream.

“Would you shut up?” Pan scowled. “You’ll be fine in a moment.”

“Fine?! I don’t have any bloody hands!” 

The blood stopped dripping from his wrist, and the flesh began to writhe, bubbling outward.

“I told you, it regrows lost limbs - but only the limbs lost after drinking the elixir.” Seeing Hook’s stricken look, Pan taunted, “Oh, did you think you’d get that hand back, Captain Hook? Why would I want that? ‘Captain Hook’ is so much more evocative than ‘Captain Jones,’ don’t you think?”

The lump on his arm was vaguely hand-shaped now, but the flesh was pebbly, and a brilliant red-orange in hue.

“You said -” 

“I told you no such thing - you assumed your hand would grow back.” He rolled his eyes at Hook’s fury. “This is a good thing, Hook. You’re much harder to kill now. Now you can’t die and leave me with no one to play with.”

Pan flashed him a grin with far too many teeth.  “Just think of all the fun we can have with this,” he laughed.  Then, with a triumphant crow, he scooped up Hook’s hand and launched himself skyward.

Hook’s gaze dropped to the slowly expanding stump, which now had rudimentary fingers. The brilliant orange color had given way to his normal skin pigmentation. He’d have his hand again, but was this worth the price?  He’d become a toy that Pan could break over and over again.

Bloody hell…what had he done to himself?

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

#wip #cw blood #blood #amputation

[tobias-and-tyko]

Birdcage au Final chapter 11

Before exiting the building, Scar stopped by their his room to put on some warmer clothes. He also found one of his wool sweaters that had sadly shrunk in the wash. Now it fit perfectly on Grian, and after cutting two holes in the back for the wings to fit through, he put it on. It really felt nice, the red fluffy wool. Even though it was a little prickly towards his skin, after a lot of wear and tear, the wool had become soft and flexible. Scar put on his dark-brown leather jacket with a little symbol that was a light-blue circle with a yellow dash across the middle, on the left arm.

They were finally ready to go out into the woods, wind howling around them. When Scar looked back at Grian as they entered the woods, his cheeks were already red from the cold. Snow came from all directions and blinded them. But when Scar stopped to try to orient himself, Grian took his hand and pulled him forward, pointing with his other deeper into the forest. Maybe he had some sort of internal compass similar to a pigeon, Scar thought and smiled to himself. The smile soon faded, as it became very hard to get through the snow with bad-functioning legs that hurt, and a cane as the only support. Speaking of the cane, it suddenly vanished and Scar fell forward, plummeting into the snow. Grian yelped, not strong enough to keep him up and followed along. When Scar looked back to see what had happened to his stick, he saw a familiar contour towering up behind him with his cane in hand. The clinically white lab coat billowed in the wind and melted into the surroundings, the only thing that he clearly saw was black, messy hair.

-“ Cub!” Was the only thing that came out when Scar shouted. He stretched over his hand to take back the cane from Cubs grip, but the man noticed and raised it over his head, looking down back at Scar. Scar grimaced as he looked over Cubs head at what he was holding from his reach.

-“ Now where do you think you are going with our little… bird?” He sneered, looking from Scar on the snow-covered ground to Grian who had still not let go of Scar's hand after they had fallen. They all were like that for a while, looking at each other while snowflakes fell. The only sound filling the air was the hurling wind all around them, throwing cloth around, ruffling their hair.

-“ Cub, please, you don't know what this is about, let me explain please!”

-“ Don't know what this is about? Oh please, of course I know.” He replied, waving the cane between the both of them. Scar got hopeful.

-“ So you know that if we don't get to the heart of the forest, the winter will last forever?” Cub looked confused, lowering the staff.

-“ Wh- no? What do you mean?” Scar quickly explained to him that Grian was a god who had lost his powers from of being away from the forest for too long, and Cub looked more and more confused. Scar started freezing from being stuck in the snow, hands shivering. Grian must have noticed it, because Scar felt a gentle squeeze on his hand, and when he looked up, he saw Grian’s face that gestured to him. Scar braced himself, and Grian pulled him up in one fell swoop, putting Scar’s arm around his shoulders, supporting him.

-'' Ouff, you're heavy.” Grian exhaled quietly. Scar smiled.

-“ Thanks, it's all my big muscles.” He answered gleefully. Looking back at Cub from Grian, he stood open mouthed staring at them, mostly Grian. It only then struck Scar that he probably was so shocked because he didn't know that his feathery friend could speak. He smiled even more, but more mischievously now. He straightened out his back as much as he could and confidently spoke again.

-“ Well Cub, will you let us continue our journey, or not?” Cub at first was quiet, he never opened his mouth, but there was this feeling that he wanted to say something. He looked down at the snow, thinking.

-“ I'm sorry that I- I assumed-…“ he mumbled, then became quiet.

-“ Of course, yeah here.” He continued and stretched out the handle of the cane towards Scar. Scar took it back and steadied himself, sighting, pleased. He felt a pull on his arm again. Turning around his friend gestured to him once again towards the woods. Grian and him started walking away from the silent Cub, who was still looking down at the ground. After a while Scar looked back to see if he still could see him. He saw his silhouette standing, arms folded at the front, looking after the two of them.

As he vanished more and more in the blizzard, he looked extremely lonely. Hopefully when he had fully gathered himself and walked the long way back to the facility through the deep snow, his bodyguard would be waiting for him by the doorstep,with a blanket in hand to warm him up.

Scar didn't know how far they walked, snow and trees making everything look the same and the blizzard not allowing them to see far(low render distance). He felt cold, the only part of his body feeling warm being the hand that held Grians. Suddenly, he bumped into Grian who had stopped in front of him. Looking around, he started noticing familiar details. Then he realized that the place where they were, was one of the many that he had seen in his companions eyes. Looking towards the middle of the glade he could see the small, now from the cold, frozen creek. Looking up towards its base, he saw a big rock. Grian walked closer to the rock, dragging Scar along with him. As the both of them got closer, Scar could distinguish a few things on the rock. First of all, that it wasn't just plain stone, but actually a moss and snow-covered statue. It was a statue of a muscular, bearded man. He stood in a confident stance, one hand on the hip while the other hung by the side. The clothes he wore were similar to a toga, a piece of cloth that people wore in ancient Greece. His head was adorned with a crown of bayleef leaves. His attention returned back to Grian as he let go of his hand. Scar saw him walk over to the statue, the massive chiseled rock towering over him. He heard Grian start muttering, and under a few minutes nothing happened. Suddenly, a massive explosion of light came from the statue and the place where Grian stood. Scars first reaction was to cower and cover his eyes with his arm. Somehow the howling of the wind diminished when the light appeared, but not the snowflakes and the blizzard. They were like small crystals that reflected the light tenfold. Scar blindly stumbled towards Grian, and hearing him suddenly yelp in pain, made him move faster. When his fumbling arm finally reached feathery wings he squinted over Grians shoulder. In Front of him was a shining orb of glowing mass, it was the source of all the light that spread all over the clearing, making the white snow shine. Grian had his arms half-stretched towards it, but not more than that, as if a massive power came from the orb that hindered him from coming any nearer. But despite that he kept pushing himself nearer and nearer. It looked like it hurt, he grimaced in pain, but didnt stop. When he was only a few mere inches away, his hands stopped again. Another pain filled shriek left his throat.

-“ Scar!” He screamed panicked.

-“ Help!”

Scar was not late to aid. He took one of Grians hands and helped him push it towards the globe, only now feeling the great force emerging from it. He strained and focused on it and now with his help, the both of their hands got nearer and nearer to the sphere. Scar felt how the air around the globe felt tingly before their fingertips touched it. Another massive explosion of light appeared, this one brighter than before. It blinded Scar, leaving his ears ringing. He felt cold snow towards his back, Grian lying against his arm, wings splayed out on both of his sides, some feathers getting into Scars face. There was a slight vignette around his field of vision, and the only thing he noticed before closing his eyes once again was the absence of the sound of the howling wind.

Warmth, it felt warm, was the first thing Scar thought. He was no longer lying on the ice cold snow, but on a soft mattress, covered by a thick and heavy blanket, that felt comforting on his tired body.

He suddenly opened his eyes, remembering the last thing he had seen. Grians seemingly lifeless body resting on his arm, eyes shut tightly. His own eyes still hurt a bit too after the intense light, but the light that was in the room at the moment, wasn't so bright that it stung. Sensing something on his right, he turned his head to see what was there. His heart skipped a beat after he saw Grian lying next to him on a mattress too, appearing to be sound asleep.

The door to the room opened, and in came Cub, and as always, Iskall following close behind him. Cub walked forward to Scars end side of the mattress, stopping there, watching him.

-“ How are you feeling Scar?” He asked with genuine worry in his voice. Scar steadied himself on his forearms, slightly sitting up.

-“ I have certainly felt better, but at least I am not dying right now.” He said and smiled. But a question still remained in his head.

-“ How did you find us? Didn't the snow cover our tracks?”

Now it was Cubs turn too smile, although the smile contained a bit of guilt.

-“ Well,” he said and looked at Iskall. ” When I came back to the facility, the guilt of… yeah, was really eating me up inside. I met Iskall by the entrance and explained everything to him. We then together decided to head back into the forest to see if you needed any help, since the snowfall was really peaking at that point. Just as we were losing hope, we reached the glade where we found you. Around that time the wind ebbed out and the snowfall stopped falling. After that, we brought you back here and the rest you know.”

There was a silence for a while, Cub letting Scar process what he had just told him. Scar didn't actually care how they had been found, just too tired to think of anything else to ask or say. The most important part was that they were alive and well. He yawned, covering it with his arm. Cub seemed to grow a little impatient from just standing there.

-“ Well, I'll leave you to your well-deserved rest, you have after all helped to save the forest, or something along those lines. Goodbye.” He said as he trotted out, lifeguard by his side. When Scar looked back at Grian, he already was turned to him, lying on his side, hand on the pillow beside his head. Grian smiled at him, and stretched out his hand towards Scar, such a simple gesture that meant so much. Scar also extended his hand towards him, and they met in the middle. Both were now smiling warmly at each other, not saying a word. They closed their eyes, one after the others, and fell sound asleep, going to rest till spring.

#scarian #desertduo birdcage au #fanfic #desert duo #hermitcraft fanfic #trafficblr #hermit shipping #hermitshipblr

[reginarubie]

Sansa wore red rose in her hair given by Loras. Catelyn wore flowers in her hair while playing with Petyr. While Loras wasn't in love with Sansa, Cat think Petyr as her brother. Both Tully girls are said to have wore flowers in her hair like Jenny of Oldstones. Jon wanted to flowers to another redhead half fish girl. He is foil to Loras and LF.

Ciao anon!,

Sansa and Catelyn both embody the courteous love (why NedCat fills so many ‘courteous love’ traits it is small wonder that Sansa might have taken a fancy for courteous love as well), and Cat has found her courteous partner in Ned (I'm never over the scene at LF' brothel where after becoming a puppy as soon as he sees his wife, Ned notices immediately that she holds her hands strangely and the wounds she sports and asks why his lady has her hands wounded thus, actually since I love it so much I'm going to gush about it, just watch me!)

Ned Stark dismounted in a fury. “A brothel,” he said as he seized Littlefinger by the shoulder and spun him around. “You’ve brought me all this way to take me to a brothel.” “Your wife is inside,” Littlefinger said. It was the final insult. “Brandon was too kind to you,” Ned said as he slammed the small man back against a wall and shoved his dagger up under the little pointed chin beard. “My lord, no,” an urgent voice called out. “He speaks the truth.” There were footsteps behind him. Ned spun, knife in hand, as an old white-haired man hurried toward them. He was dressed in brown roughspun, and the soft flesh under his chin wobbled as he ran. “This is no business of yours,” Ned began; then, suddenly, the recognition came. He lowered the dagger, astonished. “Ser Rodrik?” Rodrik Cassel nodded. “Your lady awaits you upstairs.” Ned was lost. “Catelyn is truly here? This is not some strange jape of Littlefinger’s?” He sheathed his blade.

Look at that big baby puppy. He is all growls until he is with his lady wife.

Inside, Catelyn was waiting. She cried out when she saw him, ran to him, and embraced him fiercely.

Straight outta a chanson the geste I tell you.

“My lady,” Ned whispered in wonderment.

Told you, I'm calling this scene ‘The chanson of Ned and Cat’ you can't stop me.

“Oh, very good,” said Littlefinger, closing the door. “You recognized her.” “I feared you’d never come, my lord,” she whispered against his chest. “Petyr has been bringing me reports. He told me of your troubles with Arya and the young prince. How are my girls?” “Both in mourning, and full of anger,” he told her. “Cat, I do not understand. What are you doing in King’s Landing? What’s happened?” Ned asked his wife. “Is it Bran? Is he . . . ” Dead was the word that came to his lips, but he could not say it. “It is Bran, but not as you think,” Catelyn said.Ned was lost. “Then how? Why are you here, my love? What is this place?” “Just what it appears,” Littlefinger said, easing himself onto a window seat. “A brothel. Can you think of a less likely place to find a Catelyn Tully?” He smiled. “As it chances, I own this particular establishment, so arrangements were easily made. I am most anxious to keep the Lannisters from learning that Cat is here in King’s Landing.” “Why?” Ned asked. He saw her hands then, the awkward way she held them, the raw red scars, the stiffness of the last two fingers on her left. “You’ve been hurt.” He took her hands in his own, turned them over. “Gods. Those are deep cuts . . . a gash from a sword or . . . how did this happen, my lady?”

He is a puppy, but look at him getting all growly again when he thinks his lady love has been put in danger.

Catelyn slid a dagger out from under her cloak and placed it in his hand. “This blade was sent to open Bran’s throat and spill his life’s blood.” Ned’s head jerked up. “But . . . who . . . why would . . . ” She put a finger to his lips. “Let me tell it all, my love. It will go faster that way. Listen.” So he listened, and she told it all. — Eddard IV, AGOT

Ned ‘I know better’ Stark listened. And yeah he should not have trusted LF and he did because Cat urged him to, still... boy's so in love it can rotten your teeth for its sweetness.

I'll die with rotten teeth, thanks. Gimme more.

What can I say, I am sucker for courteous love.

Okay, I would gush even more, but this is not the place to, sadly. Actually, re-reading this passage I think Sansa took her romanticism from both her mother and her father. But I am digressing, still, you see the courteous love Sansa grew up around? No wonder she is a fan of courteous love, and this would also explain why Arya is so adamant that his father has loved only her lady mother and that is it, thank you and amen.

Also if we don't get a my lord—my lady conversation parallel between Sansa and Jon (since the show gave us so many NedCat parallels) I'm taking it directly up to GRRM, I'm telling you.

Anyway, back to your question.

Both Catelyn and Sansa sported flowers in their auburn hair and Sansa' Jenny of Oldstone's imaginary never ends (just thinks of all the dragonflies details in the show, just saying) with men not their own.

Sansa wears the rose Loras gave her during the tourney of the Hand, and Catelyn had played pretend to be Jenny of Oldstone with flowers in her hair and Petyr pretending to be her prince of dragonflies. But, there is another clear hint to another (okay two) ladies. The original Stark lady, who was replaced in her bed by a rose (left on her pillow, where her head — her hair — rested) and clearly Lyanna to whom Rhaegar gifted the laurel of victory naming her Queen of love and beauty during the Tourney of Harrenhal.

Sansa is given the rose by Loras who declares that ‘no victory is as sweet as her’ (again courteous romance), and later Sansa wishes she could marry him, she even tells him about the rose she had worn in her hair, but she notices he does not remember and thus that his gesture had been devoid of meaning ‘he does not remember’ —› this is Sansa learning to look beyond gesture to see if they are meaningful or not.

Catelyn played pretend with Petyr, who she considered a brother, while they played at Jenny of Oldstone and her prince of dragonflies. This might hint to the fact that when LF dies Lady Stoneheart (the new face Cat wears) will keep dancing with her ghosts (her husband, her son), but Lady Stoneheart has one single purpose: avenging her family, and perhaps she'll play a part in LF's end and demise.

The original Stark lady was stolen by Bael (a king — also Baelish who literally tried to steal Cat from Brandon first and Ned later, and actually did stole Sansa from KL and is trying to isolate her and have her completely dependent on him) who left on her pillow the rose he had been gifted by lord Stark.

Lyanna is named Queen of love and beauty by Rhaegar at the Tourney of Harrenhal, where he rode past his own wife to crown her instead. We don't know if Lyanna ever wore the roses in her hair, but we know she loved flowers and that when she died, she had the withering petals of roses (and the stinky-sweet scent of death) around her and on her bed.

Jenny of Oldstone, sported flowers in her hair, was considered half-mad but people ended up loving her and her prince renounced the Iron throne to marry her instead. Their match was one of love, but sadly a tragic one.

Notice the pattern here? I bet you do.

Apart from Jenny of Oldstone all these ‘loves’ have something in common.

We don't know exactly what went down between Lyanna and Rhaegar but it is ‘Rhaegar loved his lady Lyanna and thousands died for it’, not ‘Rhaegar and Lyanna loved each other and thousands died for it’; which makes me think that not everything is as flowery as it may seem. And, in the end Lyanna is ‘abducted’/stolen by Rhaegar and her brother and her father are executed because of it, her other brothers are in peril and a war breaks out because of it. Lyanna ends up being sequestered in a tower in Dorne and dies in childbirth shortly after Rhaegar. Rhaegar was another woman's man.

Catelyn played pretend with Petyr, who she considers a brother, who challenged Brandon (like a hero from the songs) for her hand, and almost died because of it, which led him to nurse a very big grudge against House Stark and an obsessive wish to possess and love Catelyn, which keeps moving him decades after it — after he translates that obsessiveness and lust on Catelyn's own look-alike daughter. A daughter he comments might have been a child between him and Cat. If Lady Stoneheart has something to do with LF's demise as a vengeance for his crimes against House Stark it wouldn't surprise me if he'll be the last one to fall and thus she would just...wither, have no longer purpose and thus effectively die shortly after him. Also, Cat did not survive her husband very long. And what is her last thought as they cut her throat?

No, don't, don't cut my hair, Ned loves my hair. Then the steel was at her throat, and its bite was red and cold. — Catelyn VII, ASOS

The original Stark lady is said to have loved Bael and ended up throwing herself off the walls of Winterfell and to her death when their son brought to her, his head on a spike after he had killed him. Again the lady did not survive her lover if not shortly. Bael supposedly did love the lady Stark as well.

Jenny and Duncan loved each other so much that Duncan chose her over the Iron throne and brought her to court. Their love match came to a tragic end when Duncan died in Summerhall, and Jenny ended up completely loosing her mind (Lady Stoneheart anyone?) and she's said to have passed while dancing with her ghosts. It is not said how long she survived her husband.

And now, we have precedent breaker Sansa Stark, who wears Loras' rose in her hair. What is the difference with all the others?

Loras does not love her, he cannot love her romantically (all the others; Duncan, LF, Bael, Rhaegar; loved their ladies with flowers in their hair); it is only wishful thinking on Sansa's part that makes her romanticise him.

Sansa realises this. She knows he does not love her, he doesn't even care. Because he doesn't remember. It was an empty gesture that held no meaning (while in all other cases it held meaning — Petyr believed truly to be Cat's prince; Duncan became Jenny's husband, and Bael and Rhaegar gave children to Lyanna and the Stark lady — children who will shoulder carrying on a legacy, House Stark's legacy).

Sansa is connected (we know Martin worked with D&D during the first seasons, so we may believe that all the dragonflies motifs are connecting Sansa to Jenny of Goldstones) with Jenny of Oldstones whose partner relinquished his rights to the Iron throne to be by her side, becoming her husband.

Sansa is a precedent breaker, she was the princess held into a tower (Lyanna), the princess being cornered by a Clegane brother in Maegor's Holdfast. But, in both times, she breaks the precedent. She manages to escape her tower (KL, and later the Eyrie — “she would flee them (LF and Petyr) both”) engineering her escape, something Lyanna didn't manage to; and did not get pregnant of her husband (? — if Rhaegar ever married Lyanna to begin with); she managed to still the Hound and thus was not raped and not killed, though he came to do exactly that to her during the battle. So, the whole Jenny's motif might mean she will break her tragic end as well, maybe a dragon(flies) prince will keep her side instead than the Iron throne, and maybe this time around they'll have happiness in abundance (or maybe Martin will leave it all just in inner-dialogue and never acted upon in the span of time of the books, leaving room for development off-screen after a Dream of Spring — Martin I demand more!).

Also, Jon wished to give Ygritte flowers (and he does do it, after she dies — or so I seem to recall, tho I might be wrong) an half-fish girl, with red-hair whom he was attracted to because of her red hair and her singing softly before the fire and...okay, why is everything Jonsa lately?

Loras also, is called the knight of flowers, of all things. Will Jon gift Sansa's flowers out of love (is this a metaphor for children? — having children in the future is a motif very heavy in both their arcs) as Loras did not, and will he actually steal her heart as Baelish failed to, thus being the Ned to Sansa's Cat? Ah, I am down for it, honestly.

Also, where LF means to exploit Sansa's claim for his own advantage, Jon refuses his own advantage in favour of Sansa's claim even though he is being offered what he always wanted (the keep, the lady, the children) and Stannis refused his objection more than once. Kind of remind me of Bran I, AGOT; where Jon advocated for the pups to be spared and for the Starklings to keep them because they are meant for them and Ned asks ‘do you not want a direwolf, Jon?’ and Jon did, does (just like he wants the keep, the lady, the children, the life) but refuses for the good of his siblings, how is Jon rewarded? With his own direwolf (Ghost), so it stands to reason that this selfless act Jon does in defending Sansa's claim despite his deepest wishes will have him rewarded with what he wanted and renounced to, to favour Sansa. The keep, the lady, the children, the life. With Sansa, most probably. Big foil energy against all ‘romantic pursuers’ of Sansa. I'm honestly rooting for him.

Thank you for the ask!, sorry for the needless NedCat gushing, and hope you enjoyed the read! As always wish you have a very nice day!

related asks x

#ask the hag #anon asks #Jenny of goldstone and Sansa stark #ladies with flowers in their hairs #Jonsa foreshadowing #jonsa

[suna-reversed]

𝐩𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

toji fushiguro x reader

You could have anyone you want

Why would you want to be with me?

I’m nothing special

WC- 8k+ || MINORS DNI !!

my fic for the “great conjunction collab”

Warnings/tags- (unprotected sex, oral sex, slight voyeurism, choking, nipple play, mating press, size kink, slight breeding kink) (historical AU, non-canon timeline, greek mythology, hades-persephone retelling, mentions of misogyny/sexism, depression, religion, hurt/comfort, angst, heartbreak, major character injury, descriptions of blood, violence and death, manipulation)

𝙀𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙖 - 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙙

It would be an understatement to say that Toji, despite being one of them, had never felt like part of the clan and had hated the whole Zenin bloodline through all his years of suffering.

And the only thing he hated more than his own blood? It was the damned nobles who looked down upon him- mocking his lack of power under whispers and rumours. The spineless cowards didn’t even have the courage to spit those venomous words at his face.

He kept note of every single one of them- it was hard not to with how their laughs echoed in his mind each night as he dug his nails into his palms. So of course his attention was bound to drift towards the mother and daughter from a titled family that happened to take residence in the Zenin estate when they got news that their home down-south had been attacked. 

𝘼𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙖- 𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮

Your home had not been attacked. It was all planned of course- your travel to the mountains up north that crossed the Zenin abode, your mother having fabricated the news so that she had an excuse to find an honourable match for you from one of the most powerful clans. Her sly spies had already done the dirty work, providing you with two suitable men- even if one of them was twice your own age and the other known for his aggressiveness. 

The white gown your mother had dolled you in and the orchids she had braided into your hair had every single eye focused on you as you made your way up to your chambers. You kept your head down, too nervous to meet the eye of anyone- hoping no older man took an interest in your facade of purity and innocence and decided to stake his claim on your body. Oh, how you wished you could get away from this life, get away from the wretched woman you had to call your mother, get away from all of it- the stupid clan- the stupid suitors- the stupi-

“Ah!” 

You yelped as your body crashed into what seemed to be a rock hard wall of muscles, the scent of night chilled mist and cedar taking over your senses. You blinked. 

Gulping, you moved back a step, ready to start sputtering apologies before your mother peeled your skin off for already having embarrassed yourself. Instead, your words stayed stuck in your throat as your gaze met with an intense pair of orbs- filled to the brim with the rage of achilles, but somehow also his sorrow. Your breath hitched in your throat, and in the back of your mind, you knew you should do something- move, apologise, scowl like a noble lady would if nothing else- but all you could do was stand there stunned, the man’s stance mirroring your own. 

You flinched as the pot-bellied butler who was leading you down the hallway came back, and you thought the dark haired man might kill him right there for interrupting the burning moment between you two. Instead, you were shocked as he let himself get pushed to the side, stuffing his hands into his pockets, head down as he made a beeline towards the exit.

You barely felt the crescent moons being engraved into your skin as your mother dragged you to your room by the arm, a clipped smile on her face. 

𝙊𝙧𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙪𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙀𝙪𝙧𝙮𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙚- 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚

“Toji”

He continued walking, even as his eyes held a warning look. Gritting his teeth, he increased his pace.

“Toji-”

He shuddered. Say it again, he wanted to command, instead he turned the corner, hands curling into tight fists.  

He had been confused at first, almost appalled, at you- at your audacity to try and act like he wasn’t who he was- a piece of scum, the lowest of the lowly in the clan. But it seemed like this is how you had decided to spend the rest of your time whenever you weren’t being flagged by suitors or being paraded around your mother as the ideal of a chaste loyal wife. 

He had indulged you the first time you had struck up a conversation. Perhaps that was his initial mistake. His second being committed just now as he turned to you, the glee on your face making bile rise up to his throat. He had seen women like you before- well born “ladies” of the court in dire need of a good fuck, before they were packaged off like objects to a husband who’d only ever look at them as a vessel for carrying his children. Toji huffed in annoyance, eyes doing a quick scan of his surroundings before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into one of the storage rooms right around the corner. 

“Look-”

Toji cut himself off as he saw the baffled look on your face, your eyes starting to fill up with fear and panic. Somehow, he found himself speechless, the bitter words of telling you to go look for pleasure in a whorehouse now dissolving on the tip of his tongue.

He knew who you were being considered as a match for- having overheard the conversation during a clan meeting- it was supposed to be the sons of one of the higher ups and he could already picture the half wilted life you’d be living. And right then, something clicked in Toji’s mind- all those years of hatred and resentment flashing before his eyes as you hesitantly stepped back, tears welling up in your eyes, and right there, Toji knew what he wanted to do- what he had to. 

He took a deep breath and your heart hammered even harder in your chest. He had been different from the rest of them- you had known it from the first time. However, now you doubted your own wits, trying to recall the ways of combat you had seen the soldiers back home perform- even though you didn’t quite see how you’d succeed against the tall burly mass of flesh that towered above you. You jumped back as he strode right towards you- eyes clenched shut, hands raised in front of your face ready for the impact and pain. 

You were met with nothingness, barely feeling the light brush of his arm as he moved past you. 

Toji sighed at your almost childish antics, even though he agreed your actions would have been justifiable if it was any other man having pulled you into such a secluded place. He waited for you to calm down, lazily looking for the latch of the huge glass window situated on the other side of the room. He easily lifted it open, biceps flexing as he did so- placing his hands on the ledge before pulling himself to the other side.

He turned back towards your gawking figure, rolling his eyes, ready to put forward the offer that would decide if you were worth his time and effort or not. He extended his hand, trying to ignore the heat crawling up to the tip of his ears at the giddy relief-filled grin that spread across your face as he asked, 

“You ever visited the countryside princess?” 

--

You must be an angel in disguise, he finds himself thinking. It terrified him- the time he had spent staring at the column of your neck, watching your chest fall and rise with every breath- and the time he could have spent simply admiring every crook and nook of your body. 

You looked serene in the golden hour of the afternoon, lying on the grass with your eyes shut, sunlight cascading down your figure making it seem as if you carried your own halo. Toji was afraid you’d sprout wings any second now, disappearing away to someplace heavenly- someplace better than the hell you were about to be condemned to- someplace that didn’t have monsters like him. But at last, you were only a human- soon to be one of the Zenins if nothing else. 

The time you had sneaked out to the lake in the countryside with him had not been the last of your rendezvous. You had been quite different from what Toji had expected. You hadn’t made any advances towards him but you weren’t the pure little thing everyone believed you to be either.

You were smart to say the least- a trait that families often suppressed in women of your status, trying to force them into nothing but submissive concubines for their future husband. You were oddly aware of it- had mentioned your doomed fate quite a few times now, and he was struck by how you always laughed, as if your own self being stripped away was a joke. You seemed to do that quite a bit, and he understood it in some twisted way of his own plight. 

Even as his mind kept reminding him that you had still grown up being pampered, being spoiled, having others do your work for you- others like him. But conversation had flowed so naturally with you, he found himself showing you more and more of his places of solitude he had found all over the village through his years of misery.  

You were also naive in many ways, but still blunt in twice as many. Toji had rolled his eyes as he had asked you what you did with your free time back home- the answer was expected- it always had to be something related to the arts and education, trying to pump the ladies full of culture so that they have something to talk about at the dozen balls and galas they’d be attending every month. However, he had almost choked on the pear he chewed as you had started listing names of erotica after erotica- the titles being lewd enough to let him know just how filthy the content inside would be. 

You had burst into laughter at the look on his face, crumbs of fruit left on the side of his mouth making him look even more bizarre. You had reached up your fingers almost instinctively, eyes widening as you realised you had brushed them over the scar he never seemed to talk about. His hand was wrapped around your wrist in less than a second, halting it in place. 

He had stared right back at you, breaths heavy, eyes calculating as he loosened the grip around your skin, but not before he lifted your fingers to press against the mark once more. You swore you could have heard the drumming of your heart, and perhaps he did too.

As you brushed away the remaining bit of the sweet fruit, you couldn’t help but notice the flush that had formed on his cheeks, even as he scowled. 

𝙀𝙧𝙤𝙨- 𝙥𝙝𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙚.

“You’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are.”

You’re bent over the table in the storage room that has somehow become your portal of escape from the person you have to pretend to be. It’s not the first time Toji has whispered his filthy administrations into your ear, but he’s never done it quite so close to where anyone could walk in and catch you red handed. 

Perhaps it was the fact that his face had turned a sick shade of green at the sight of your suitor tucking your hair behind your ear, your lips twitching upwards at something he said- the same way they had twitched up the night before when he had risen from in between your legs, the taste of yourself flooding your mouth as he had pressed his lips to yours. 

This is exactly what you were here for, and despite it, Toji knew who’s name you screamed at the end of every day. So then why did another hand on you ignite a bestial flame inside his chest? Why did he feel the need to pull you away in the dead of the night amongst the crowd of tipsy people, ridding you of the fabric of your dress in one swift movement as he had pressed you against the nearest surface. 

You didn't panic for even a moment, you knew it was his hand just from the touch of it, his hot breath against the shell of your ear, and his throbbing member pressed against the curve of your behind as a thumb rubbed circles into your hip bone. 

You throw your head back against his muscular chest, craning your neck upwards till you meet his eyes- they soften for the briefest of moments, but the way his tip brushes against your underwear-clad core seems to fill them with raw electricity once more. And you think he’s going to fuck you right there- make you cry out his name for letting another man so close to you. Instead, you gasp as his rough hands grab the flesh of your thighs, kneading the muscle as he spins you around, a smirk being flashed your way as he gets on his knees. 

He looks ethereal in that moment. And your breath hitches in your throat as you realise you’ve made a fallen angel bow before you- have tricked him into thinking you can cleanse him of his deeds when the only sinner in this room was you. The way his lips press against the inside of your thighs, nose rubbing against your freshly flowing juices- it’s tantalising, even worse when he takes both your hands in his as they try to find solace in his locks, pinning them to your sides onto the table instead. 

He rests his chin right below the apex of your mound, eyes wandering to your face as he sighs, the lazy but smug curve of his lips accentuating the scar you had grown to cherish as much as your own heartbeat.

Your chest is heaving, the sound of your heavy breathing hanging in the silence of the room as you look down at him. If this was to be his ruination- his fall from grace- Toji would die a happy man. The scent of you is lingering right below his nose, his mouth watering alone at the thought, but he cannot seem to pull away his eyes from your beguiling face, bathed in the moonlight. The words seem to escape him before he can think twice of them.

“Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.”

You’ve barely let his words settle in before he presses his thumb right against your wet heat, rubbing small circles onto your sensitive bud. You don’t have a chance to respond as he proceeds to dive into your drenched cunt- his tongue giving kitten-licks to your clit, lapping up any wetness that dares to drip down. You cry out loud as two of his fingers join his mouth’s onslaught, slapping a hand against your own mouth remembering where you were. 

The sounds filling the room as he suctions your clit in between his lips are filthy- arms wrapping around and under your thighs, pulling your arousal even closer to his starving mouth, the new angle of your leg being thrown over his shoulder letting his fingers rub against the spongy spot inside your walls that makes the coil in your stomach snap. You’re grinding against his face and he’s letting you, nose pressing onto your clit as he licks up the remnants of your juices, fingers continuing to fuck you through your climax as they quiver and shake around his head. 

You’re still coming down from your high, body hanging limp at an awkward angle against the hard wooden surface. His strong burly arms are easily lifting you up, carrying you towards the other side of the room- right towards the glass window. Your eyes widen as you realise the malicious idea that has popped up into your lover’s head, but you’re barely able to put in two words of protest before your feet are hitting the ground, the cold surface making you gasp as your tits are pushed against it. You’re crying out loud as he rubs his thick length against your soppy folds. 

“Toji- someone could see us- we shouldn’t- ah!”

You’re cut off as he lines himself up at your entrance, a pleasurable burn down in your core as his girth stretches your walls. It always hurts. No matter how many times he’s made you cum on his fingers and tongue or prepped you up with an ointment- his size is something no one would ever get accustomed to. He knows it too, but tonight he seems to care less about taking it slow and letting you adjust. You honestly cannot care less too, not when you're gushing around him as such when he’s barely even halfway inside. 

“Too big Toji- too much.” You’re mewling, hands trying to grip onto something.

“You can take it- fuck just let me-”

He’s hastily moving his fingers across your stomach to rub your pulsing bud, groaning lewdly at the way your cunt flutters around him, letting him move deeper inside of you.

The growl that leaves him as his tip hits your cervix is grossly animalistic, making you moan loudly. His other hand is coming up to grip your jaw, cheek pressed against the glass as he lifts up one of your legs, the angle letting him thrust in and out of your poor drenched hole even deeper. His thrusts turn sloppy, eyes clenched shut above you as the sounds of his balls slapping against your flesh with each thrust fill the room.

You’re both groaning in unison, his strokes getting faster as he feels your walls clamping down on him. You’re choking on a breath as his hand moves to wrap around your throat, the sensation making you moan even louder.

“Call me selfish-”  

A sharp smack is delivered against the flesh of your ass causing you to arch your back, the action making your tits press up against the window even more,

 “... but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.”

His lips have been suctioned to your neck, your delightful noises being muffled as he’s turning your head to the side till his tongue slips into your mouth. He tightens his grip around your neck and you’re seeing stars, along with the pace of his fingers on your clit and his rapid thrusts making the well in the bottom of your stomach come apart, tears of pleasure slipping your eyes, the feeling of his seed painting your walls making you clench against him amidst your own orgasm.

You barely feel the arms cradling your body, carrying you to set you down on the table. You furrow your brows as Toji strips himself of his shirt, and your eyes widen at the thought of him ravishing you once more so soon. Instead, you shudder as he swipes it against your sex, cleaning up his mess. 

The way you beam at him, even in your exhausted state, is honestly worth the ruined shirt- he finds himself thinking as he moves to pick up your dress from the ground. He clicks his tongue as he realises just how much of shreds he had ripped it into in his feral daze. He’s lifting his head to meet your eyes, wondering how he’ll tell you that you have to find a way to get back to your chambers in this state- 

“Oh-”

Your saccharine voice is pulling Toji out of his thoughts, surprise forming across his face as you burst into laughter at the sight of what he’s sure has cost twice as much as all the clothes he’d ever owned combined. 

“How well do you think I’d fare going out in one of the potato sacks?” 

How could he have not smiled right back at you. 

𝘿𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙨- 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙚

Toji had never wanted to rip his own heart out so badly before, inject his blood with ambrosia so that he could be worthy enough for the goddess that was ready to abandon her sanctity- her piece of heaven- for him. He had always known how it would end- in an empty heath of a fire gone out long ago, the only thing keeping it burning now regret and sorrow.

 Love could not have sustained you when there was barely enough space to breathe, when there was barely enough food for your kids to live off of. Once the love faded, all that’d remain would be your wish to go back to the past, getting drunk on forgetfulness so that you can survive within the stone cold walls of a house- not a home.

Once again, Toji knew what he had to do- knew he willingly stepped into this hoping to ruin what was supposed to be the prize of his own blood- in order to humiliate them and fulfill his revenge.

He also knew he was the ruined one now as thoughts of you plagued his mind day and night- how his tactful game of cat and mouse had turned into sweet kisses and hushed giggles, and how all he wanted was to find a pit stop in time where his blood did not matter, where the sins of his past did not matter. But despite it all, he knew he couldn’t have dragged you into his own hell, even if you begged him to take you.

He sighs. 

You had recited the exact conversation you had with your mother- laid yourself bare before him as you poured out your heart- letting him know that it’d be worth tasting the 7 seeds of evil even if it meant living in hell for half your life. 

He had thrown his head back and laughed. 

“You really thought our little getaways meant anything more than a fling to me? More than just a decent fuck?”

You stood still, mouth agape at the words that had slipped past his lips, a hand fisting the fabric of his shirt right above his heart, desperately searching for the pulse of the man you’d grown to adore over the past few weeks. 

He had looked down at you, the scar you had so tenderly ran your fingers over twitching upwards- in amusement- in laughter, face contorting into one of resentment- of revulsion before he had suddenly stilled. 

“Did you forget your place princess? Pretty little head got too lost in a fool’s paradise- did you forget you are one of them- always have been one of them.”

He had spat the last words at you and you wanted to shake your head, wanted to tell him he was utterly wrong, but all you could do was clutch on even tighter to him.

He had put his hand over yours and you had almost begged for him to tell you that this was a sick joke- almost pleaded for him to intertwine his calloused warm hands with yours as he always did- as he had when he made you scream his name, instead you had found yourself gasping at the icy touch as he flicked away your wrist, brows furrowing in repulsion at the contact- at you.

The tears that had slipped through your eyes had only worked to make him throw his head back like a giddy child once more. He had looked up at the sky as if he was mocking the gods in Olympus - look at how I’ve so beautifully wrecked what you created,

while you had stood there looking up at him as if he was your religion, mouthing,

this is not a joke, love me, love me.

𝙊ï𝙯ú𝙨- 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙮, 𝙖𝙣𝙭𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛

You felt raw. But you did not fight the black hole opening up in your chest. You let it settle into your bones, nurtured the hollowness- ignited it until you felt it turn into flames instead.

You couldn’t have let the ice creep into your heart- it would mean giving up the tears, giving up the feeling of wanting to be swallowed whole by the ground beneath, and that would mean you no longer felt- no longer harboured the only thing that made you feel alive in the cage of bones and flesh your troubled mind resided in. 

There was a heavy pain in between the arch of your shoulder blades- like your wings had been clipped and your halo ripped away.

You ignored the scowl that rose to her face, the way she flinched as you leaned over to rest your head in her lap. You couldn’t tell if the wetness on your cheeks was yours or hers- mourning the daughter she was going to lose. You felt your mother’s burning gaze through the back of your head all throughout the journey back home- could already feel the wrath of your father and the nasty bruises that were to come as her hand came down to rest on your head. 

You instead found yourself being locked away immediately- not a single word from anyone. The only time your door opened was for a maid to serve you your half portioned meals. Not like you had an appetite or a will to do anything else. 

Days passed by, perhaps weeks or months, and you counted the scattered marks on the wall beside your bed like you had done once with the freckles across his back, and you waited-  for what? You weren’t quite sure yourself. You waited and waited until the day your door opened, but it wasn’t the regular pitter patter of steps of the maid who served the food.

Instead, your eyes met the raging ones of the head of your clan, and for the first time in days, an icy shiver creeped up your spine.

----

The torment you’re put through is much worse than expected. You were well aware you were to be disgraced, to be stripped of your title, but somehow the gaze of your own friends and family avoiding your beaten bloody form and ignoring your whimpers and cries of agony was what had stung the most. 

The world seemed to be upside down, fading in and out of hues of colour and greys and blinding lights. You could barely feel the blood dripping down the back of your head and into your shirt as your gaze managed to remain focused on the window outside of the rattling carriage you lay in, panic rising in your chest as you recognised the familiar scenery. 

You fought your hardest to stay awake, but you lost to the increasingly heavy pressure against your head, hoping your blood would run dry before you had to face the hell you were being thrown into. As your head lolled to the side, you wondered if satiating the hunger within you was worth the price you were paying- if this was what happened to every soul that had brought the god of the dead to his knees, wondered if you were the first to do so- wondered if you’d be the last. 

𝙃𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙨- 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙, 𝙜𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙩

Toji had left the clan- made a living of his own by doing what he did best, by doing what he was made to- destroying and causing wreckage till there was no piece of his soul left to be salvaged. 

He had avoided news about you like the plague, and had still ended up finding out that you were locked away back at your home from the gossiping servants. He had chuckled bitterly, what had he been expecting? He was right after all, you'd never have to face any consequences in life, and soon this whole scandal would be swept under the rug and you would be well on your way to marrying another wealthy brat, having filthy little kids with him who’d have the same luxuries in life and-

Toji found his heart dropping, the axe along with the freshly chopped wood he carried thumping down against the forest floor as he reached the entrance of the wooden cabin he had taken residence in. He saw the pool of blood first- the familiar mop of hair later.

No-

He must be hallucinating- 

But he still found himself moving out of his own accord, gathering the crumpled figure into his arms, feeling a thick fluid drip down his skin- stain through his shirt as he tried to pick you up. A chill ran down his spine as he realised what those savages had done for your body to resist even in an unconscious state- 

And that’s when his eyes slid to the nails in the ground, the sharp metal going right through the flesh of your fingertips, a note pinned to your abdomen in between your shredded dirtied clothes-

“We don’t want the gross wreckage of your perverse ruination. Keep the whore since you wanted her so much.” 

A sea of rage rose in the back of Toji’s mind but it stilled, the vicerating waves crashing against the shore that was the barely noticeable action of your chest heaving. He held back what was a choked sob, mind barely sane as he took out the nails as gently as possible- a man so familiar with death yet utterly horrified by it as he counted your laboured breaths, thanked every deity out in the universe for every huff of air that he could feel against his chest as he carried you inside. 

—

How do you kill a god? 

You had asked him once. He had raised his brow, ruffling your hair before pushing you down onto the bed once more, intent on at least letting you know how you got to heaven. 

How do you kill a god?

It now echoed in his mind as he watched your broken body lay on his bed, having done everything he could have to fix you up even though he feared there would be wounds more than just the physical ones when you gained consciousness- if you gained consciousness.

How do you kill a god? 

Pit him against another god. Let him stare at his own reflection and see all his glorious flaws until he’s falling to his knees, begging for the taste of ichor to be washed out from his mouth, begging to be stripped of his damned divinity- because the curse of immortality is a heavier burden to carry than the curse of mundane suffering- because it’s easier to drown in a sea full of blood than live with it staining your hands.

𝘼𝙥𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙚- 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣.

“How do you kill a god?” You had asked him once.

Afterwards, you had lain awake late into the night as he had given you a taste of his own holiness, bare in his arms as he had muttered the words into your hair, barely a whisper as they escaped past his bleeding lips, 

How do you become a god?

The burning light attacked your eyes and you flinched loud enough for your own ears to ring, and then flinched even harder as the hot searing pain spread through your body, especially across the tips of your bandage covered fingers. You tried to use your voice but your throat was like a desert and your own harsh whisper scraped against your sensitive ears.

All you could do was stare up at the unfamiliar ceiling, lying numb, waiting for your saviour- or perhaps your torturer to come.

All had gone still once the door opened, your gaze falling onto the familiar hands that carried a bowl of water and about a dozen different small bottles in a basket. You stared through him, through his wide blown eyes and through the sigh of relief that left his mouth as he rushed towards you. 

How do you become a god?

There was much more you had wanted to tell your mother. You had told her you were sick of pretending, sick of being the goddess of spring when everything you touched died in your hands- how every beam of light you emitted was a stolen one from another soul. Perhaps, you had always craved pomegranates and death - had always willingly walked into the darkness with a smile and open arms.

How do you become a god?

You let him plead and writhe to have a taste of your lips - make him believe it is his only salvation. And right when his lips meet yours, you dig your teeth in deep and not let go, even as his fingers grip the column of your throat and his growls rumble inside your mouth. You let the trail of crimson coat your tongue and feel his tears burn your flesh- you make him taste your blood and take his throne. 

—

He says your name like it’s a prayer and you want to rip out his heart.

Instead, you turn your head towards the wall opposite to where he stands, clenching your eyes shut, hoping the next time you wake up it won’t be here. 

Still, you can hear his voice. Every single day of every waking moment- even as you sleep- even as you wake up in cold sweat haunted by the bittersweet melody of his laughter the day he crushed your heart in two, or the time your own blood nailed you down into the earth. 

But most of all, you hate it when you can hear the gruffness of his voice, still heavy from sleep as you let him cradle your head, shushing you- letting you know it was just a nightmare- but it was a nightmare you had lived through- a nightmare he had put you through. 

Not that he didn’t acknowledge it equally as much. It was odd- almost laughable the way he was so desperate to bring even just a flicker of the light back inside your eyes, breaking free from his stoic and tight lipped demeanour to whisper grossly sweet nothings into your hair.

He had explained his regrets the first few days that you had refused to even look at him, simply staring at the wall as he stripped you of your clothes to redo your bandages, not even the barest of reaction visible across your face. He had caused this. 

The first words you had muttered to him weren’t of hatred or anger or sadness- they were said into the heavy air, late into the hours before dusk at a point in time where your bones still couldn't support the burden of your body, 

“I need to pee.” 

You had said it through gritted teeth, had scowled throughout the process of him picking you up and carrying you into the bathroom, giving you privacy to do your business. 

The second time you had spoken to him was right after and it had somehow dented itself much deeper than he had expected it to, even as it was all he had been preparing himself for in the past few days, 

“I hate you.”

You had said it with no anger, no poison in your words- had simply stated it like it was a mere fact. 

“I know.”

—

It was weeks later and you seemed to have fallen into a strange routine.

He’d go out to do his filthy work, come back bathed in blood and dirt, even as he washed himself off outside thinking he was sly with it. You’d pretend not to notice as you’d cook for yourself, sometimes leaving bits behind as leftovers even if you had purposely spilled the extra bit of rice- had regretted it as soon as you had realised you had done it because he hadn’t had dinner in three days.

Perhaps it was the irony of the situation, and maybe even the cold winter air creeping into your bones that let him move from simply holding you when you woke from your nightmares- to him warming your bed at night even when you dreamed of nothing but the scar beside his lip. 

Still, you let him know you despised him every night that he pulled your body against his chest and every morning that he rubbed his warm hands up and down your arms. Even as you felt yourself leaning into his touch, felt your heart softening at how he’d mutter apologies into your hair while he thought you were asleep, how he’d pay attention to the foods you took more of and made sure to get twice the amount next time, how he’d shred his own shirts to provide you with cloth for when you got your monthly cycles. Yet, you couldn’t find any other words to say to him. 

𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚- 𝙌𝙪𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙐𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

You had woken up alone as you did on most mornings, grateful that you wouldn’t have to face the shame that came with having your limbs tangled with him. The day was like any other yet different, perhaps it was the monotonous dread of living a life such as this- of having to live at all after being stripped of everything you had called yours.

You had somehow ended up taking steps outside of the wooden door, outside of the small garden the burly man used to grow his own vegetables, and even farther outside the vines and shrubs that kept the cabin hidden from any unwanted visitors.

You had walked and walked till your feet carried you to the edge of the world, a never ending fall down below from where you stared at, the sound of water flowing signalling the presence of a river running deep under the steep cliff.

You had stopped walking, the silence of the forest being the only noise to have outdone the heavy emptiness in your heart in months. And you simply continued to stand there, bare feet digging into the dirt and grass and stone, barely realising when the light faded away and darkness took over. Hadn’t it always been like this? 

It had taken no more than two rounds of the house and the trail of footsteps in the garden out back for Toji to realise you had left. His heart had dropped into his chest as he had followed the dents of your feet in the ground, careful not to step on them as his mind bitterly reminded him that it may be the last of what’s left of you by now.

He knew where the trail you had walked along led- had himself sat on the edge of it once, legs dangling off as he his mind had replayed the memory of your glossy eyes and crestfallen face when he had hit you with those fatal words months ago. Toji’s breath hitches in his throat, hands shaking as he pulls away the last branch blocking the view of the edge of the cliff. 

His feet are moving faster than his mind can think as he all but falls onto his knees, clutching your abdomen as if you’d disappear forever if he let you go now. You turn around in his arms, a look of confusion on your face, your eyes still as hollow as a void but all he cares about right now is the steady thumping he can feel with his chest pressed to yours. He’s clenching his eyes shut, taking a deep breath before he’s sliding his hand into yours. You don’t protest- letting him lead you back into the warm safety of his house and he’s too relieved to consider whether your lack of resistance is a good thing or not. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed and you can hear him ruffling through something in the bathroom, door ajar, eyes glancing towards you every two seconds as if he’s expecting you to bolt out the door any second now. For once, you don’t want to stare at the wall as he walks towards you, getting down on his knees- making a blow of nostalgia hit you right in the gut. But your eyes remain fixed at the top of his head, at the dark locks that had grown out much more since the last time you had let yourself gaze at him. 

You only realise what he’s been doing as you notice the bowl of water kept on the floor, hands gently lifting up your dirty feet, cleaning them of the mud and the blood from small scrapes. He’s lifting up your legs onto the bed once he’s done, adjusting your pillow as a gesture for you to lay down. He’s blowing out the lamps and soon enough you feel the mattress dip, his arms engulfing you tighter than ever before. You can feel the slight tremble in them and you feel guilty for the small pinch in your chest. You wait for his breathing to steady, head to fall limp into the crook of your neck before you roll over towards him in the dark, eyes set on the small crinkle between his forehead and brow. 

The warm hand that cups Toji’s cheek has him convinced that he may have lost his mind. Opening his eyes, he knows for sure that you have. Especially as you slide your other hand into his, pulling it till it’s placed onto the crest between your collarbone and chest, adjusting it a little more towards the left. Toji’s staring intently at you, wondering if this is your way of telling him that you’re still alive- that even though you’ve been cursed and damned to living in this hell, your heart still beats- it still fights. 

Toji bares his own emotions through a gesture- pulling the small hand that holds his to the apex between his upper ribs- pressing it till your fingers feel like they might just pass through his flesh. He hopes you know that if he could, he’d snap each one of his ribs open so that you can reach inside and press the palm of your hand against his beating heart, rip it right out of his body and spit inside the hollow space of his ribs with contempt- even then he’d survive on your hatred alone if it means surviving with you for the rest of his life. 

“I don’t hate you.”

The words are whispered in the dead of the night with no emotion, no trace of forgiveness or affection- simply stated as if they are common knowledge.

The soft lips coming down on his own have his mind spinning. He realises what it is you wish for- to be able to live once again as a human, to feel once again as a mortal- he can almost almost hear you saying the words into his mouth as your fist bunches up the fabric of his shirt. 

“I’m tired of being a god.” 

He can feel his own sentiment being passed right through as his hands slide under the cloth of his shirt that you wore, exploring the expanse of your reverenced skin, mouthing his response against your cupid’s bow.

“I’ll worship you even after you fall from grace.” 

And he does, pulling himself up on arms above you, dipping his fingers into your soaking sex, making quick work of ridding you and himself of your clothes. He’s tucking your legs against your chest, feet dangling over his broad shoulders as he comes forward to meet your lips. He’s pulling away and you’re mewling at the loss of contact- the loss of his taste. 

“Do you want this? Do you want-” He takes a deep breath, forehead coming forward to press against yours till your noses brush against each other, “...me?”

Your response comes in the form of sliding your hands to the back of his head, pulling him forward till his lips crash against yours once more- bucking your hips up till the tip of his massive girth is brushing against your heat. He doesn’t miss the moan that escapes you, eagerly kissing you back, moving to litter a plethora of kisses against your jaw- your neck- your collarbone. When he comes back up to your face, he’s well aware of the effect he’s had on you- the want in your eyes as you lift your hips against his once more, a small plea leaving your mouth. 

The need that comes over him is animalistic as he moves a hand down to position himself before sliding into your soppy hole, he swears he can see stars with how hungrily you swallow him in. You’re gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he strokes your insides so languidly. Your faces are close enough for you to feel his breath on your mouth, to feel the fall of the hot droplets on your cheeks, your own tears of grief- of freedom- of a love gone to waste so long ago combining as he continues to thrust in and out of you deeply. 

He’s dipping his head and the tears are being kissed away as his hand moves down to play with your over sensitive bud. You can't stop peppering kisses against his lips, moaning his name in his ear as he hits a particular spot inside you. He can feel you getting closer with how your breaths get deeper, fingers moving faster, strokes getting sloppier. 

You feel the tight coil in your stomach start to unravel, and all it takes is for him to lower his head and suction his lips around one of your nipples for you to come apart underneath him. He’s reaching his own arousal soon after, pulling out to spray his seed onto your stomach. He all but collapses on top of you, rolling over to his side once he catches his breath, another hitching in his throat as he finds you crawling onto his lap, legs straddling his waist as you bury your face into his naked chest. 

This is what being a god feels like. The taste of wine coating your tongue and the way his lips meld with yours- swallow you whole and then spit you out. You reach for him again in the dark, his chest panting against yours as the moonlight cascading from the window hits his face. You rest your chin against the centre of his chest, looking up at him with droopy eyes, his own stare right back at you- filled with tenderness and affection. 

“No one will ever hurt you again, I promise.” 

His voice is gruff and heavy, but carries a sincerity warm enough to send tingles down your back. You can’t quite place the look on his face, it's determined- pointed. You can feel the unravelling of the violence beneath his skin as his hand comes to cradle your jaw, and you wonder just what kind of monsters the god of the underworld plans to unleash.

His hand moves to caress the back of your head, adoration-filled eyes raking over your still panting figure. He presses his lips to your temple and says your name like a prayer. It all floods in- the pain- the love- the sorrow- the joy- you’re sobbing and he’s holding you like he has time and again. Only this time, he finds himself awestruck by the spark of ember that comes alive in your eyes, even if just for a second, he knows you’re going to be fine. 

-

The god of the dead had bowed before you, offered you his crown, his throne- would have ripped off the flesh from his own back and handed it to you without any hesitation if only you asked. 

You were the goddess of spring and everyone had loved your life and light, but who except him had acknowledged the death and destruction that came along- had reached out their hands into the rotten parts of your flesh and kissed every bruise and scar?

This was Toji Fushiguro’s life now, coming back home to his precious darling each day- the only burst of spring in his everlasting winter, the only ray of light in his world swallowed by darkness.

Tonight, as you lay on him bare-bodied and covered in sweat from your previous feat, he finds you asking him about the season, about how far the harvest festival was. He’s confused at your sudden curiosity but answers you nonetheless, telling you it’s in a fortnight. He finds himself asking why. 

“Every single member of our blood attends the festival- they had waited for it while they kept me away.” 

It’s the first time you’re talking about the incident and he can feel you quiver in his arms. It makes his blood boil, and he finds himself protectively pulling you even closer into him. 

“...they had wanted each and every single one of them to get a chance to cut through my skin.” 

That’s all you say before falling asleep, the tears on Toji’s chest making a storm of anger rage inside his mind. 

--

It’s a fortnight later and Toji watches the red and orange hues of the flames making your face glow brighter than the sun. 

You’re standing there hand-in-hand with him, looking over the half wrecked ruins of the village, the screams of the people you had grown up with- who had taken no less than a second to turn their backs on you- who had left you to die- now echoing in your ears. Right on the edge of the hilltop you stand on, you see a small figure running towards the slope, clothes burnt, high pitched sobs filling the air as it succumbs to the heat that had spread through it’s bones.  

She must’ve been eight or nine years old judging from her size and half burnt frills of the frock she wore. You know she’s at peace, much like the many others who would’ve faced nothing but agonising hardships being raised in the hands of your cruel persecutors- all of whom lay as nothing but bones and ash and dust now. 

Toji’s worried that he’ll find the same emptiness he’s spent months breaking through as he glances over at your face. Instead, there’s a fire being reflected in your eyes, a sadistically deliciously smile stretched across your supple cheeks. He finds his own lips curving as he grips your jaw to turn your head and press his lips to yours, the screams and shouts of your monsters merely anything but white noise as your fingers come to tangle in his hair. 

After all, Hades may have been the god of the dead, but it was Persephone’s wrath which brought upon the destruction.

© suna-reversed — all rights reserved. please refrain from modifying, translating, reposting of any kind. plagiarism will NOT be tolerated.

credit- prompt list

taglist-@captainmads2092 @mahitochan @nakachuchu @bakugohoex @jotazinha @osmosly @avasparks @p-each-y-day @lilshortcakess @saturnmoon @deary-darling @menaintshit23 @tobidabio @sukuna5slut @instantnuma @kuroshitsujjiii @half-baked-biscuit @duskamethyst @sukumen @radishfern

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk smut #jjk tw #jjk angst #jjk hcs #toji angst #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #toji fluff #gojo smut #sukuna smut #hades persephone retelling

[itsapeterthing]

Hi! I just wanna say that I love all your Shang-chi fics and is it okay if you make one where the reader is an avenger and she comes back really hurt from a mission and Shang-chi takes care of her

Tender || Shang-Chi

a/n: hi! thank you so, so much! i’m so happy you’re liking them and i hope you enjoy this one!

word count: 1.1k

warnings: description of blood, wounds

masterlist || request || taglist

“Baby.”

The smile that had reached his face as soon as he realized you were home quickly faltered once he turned around to see you standing by the door, bruises and deep cuts coating your visible skin as you swayed in your spot.

He felt his heart drop to his stomach and the coffee mug that he had been holding slipped from his hand and shattered across the floor.

He quickly rushed to your side just before your legs gave out, catching you in his arms in just enough time before you met the cold floor.

“I got you, I got you,” He assured you, guiding you over to your bed. “What happened, Y/n? Who did this to you?”

Wiping blood from your nose as Shang-Chi lowered you onto the bed, you shook your head before falling back against the soft pillows.

“I took care of it Shang-Chi.” You said, as your swollen eyes fluttered shut. “It’s over.”

His jaw clenched as he shook his head, pushing himself up from the bed to pace around the tiny loft.

“They have to pay for this, Y/n.” He said. “I-I’m not going to let them get away with this.”

You understood why Shang-Chi was overprotective- he had had to guard himself and his emotions from a young age- never mind the fact that he had lost his mother in such a brutal way, but you were an Avenger. You chose this life and at the end of the day you knew you could handle it- with a few scars to match of course.

It was endearing to know how much your boyfriend cared, but it was over and you knew vengeance would get neither of you anywhere.

“No,” You said, your voice soft and fragile. “Shang-Chi I don’t want revenge- I just want you.”

Shang-Chi stopped as he heard what you said, your voice faltering all the while. He turned back to you as he saw you weak and lying in bed, your hand reaching out for him in your lowest moment.

He kicked himself for allowing his emotions to take control of him- for his hatred to blind him from seeing the task that was right in front of him- taking care of you when you needed him most.

He swore he could’ve cried, hearing your vulnerable self want nothing more than for him to be by your side.

“You’re right,” he said, making his way back over to the bed, taking your bloodied hand in is. “I’m sorry. I- I don’t know what came over me… I just…. I hate seeing you in so much pain, Y/n.”

“I know, baby.” You whispered, tugging his hand closer towards you before wrapping your arms around him, holding him gently in your embrace. “But I’m okay. I’m here, Shang-Chi. I’m here.”

Shang-Chi held you in his arms, trying his best to not squeeze you too tightly because a part of him feared you would shatter under the pressure.

Pressing one soft kiss against your cheek, your boyfriend pulled away from you, holding you at arm’s length.

“Let’s get you changed.”

Not one to argue in your state, you let your boyfriend unzip the suit you were in and moved with him as he tenderly slipped the sleeves off from around your shoulders and pulled it down your legs. Tugging off your boots, he threw them onto the floor by your bed and laid your suit on the chair in the corner.

“I’ll be right back.” He told you.

You listened as his footsteps padded out of the room and into the nearby bathroom. When he returned, he came with a damp wash cloth in his hand and seated himself on the edge of the bed once again.

He tenderly took your hand in his, examining your bloodied knuckles and when the cloth met your open wounds, you sucked in your breath.

“Sorry, it might sting a little.” He apologized, patting your skin gently.

“S’ okay.” You mumbled, watching him work.

“You know,” He said, focused on his motions as he cleaned you up. “My dad used to do this for me.”

Glancing up at his face as he switched your hands, you had to admit you were a bit shocked.

You had known that his father hadn’t always treated Shang-Chi the way he did after his mother died, but it was almost hard for you to believe that a man who treated his son in such a way could ever be gentle.

“Really?” You asked.

Shang-Chi only nodded, his eyes not yet meeting yours.

“That’s the thing about my dad,” He said, pulling the cloth away from your hand. “He could be nice when he wanted to.”

Even through swollen, bruised eyes, you watched your boyfriend’s focused face as he concentrated on taking care of you. Even in moments like these, you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell in your chest knowing that you had somehow been blessed with the most perfect person in the world. As you admired his features, highlighted by the warm glow of the lamp on your night stand and felt his his fingertips as they brushed against your skin while cleaning you up, you knew you couldn’t have even imagined him if you tried.

“Thank you.” You said as he pulled the cloth away from your skin for the last time.

“For what?” He asked, standing up and grabbing one of his t-shirts off of the dresser.

“For taking care of me.”

You watched as your boyfriend rolled his eyes and smiled.

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/n.” He said, helping you into his t-shirt, raising up your arms slowly as to not hurt you. “I love you. Besides,” He chuckled as your head popped out from the hole at the top the shirt and he kissed your cheek. “You’ve cleaned me up more times than I can count. It’s nice to help you for a change.”

Left speechless, you only smiled up at your boyfriend.

“Let’s get some sleep, okay?”

Shang-Chi then switched off the lamp at your side and climbed into bed beside you, draping his arm over your torso.

“If you need anything, wake me up, okay?” He asked, laying down next to you, his hot breath against your neck.

“I will, baby.”

“Promise?” He asked.

Allowing the exhaustion to finally take over you, you shut your eyes and smiled.

“I promise.”

#shang chi #shang-chi #shang chi x reader #shang-chi x reader #shang chi one shot #shang chi imagine #shang chi blurb #shang chi drabble #shang chi fanfiction

[slasherhaven]

Hi! Can you Do a Bo Sinclair soulmate imagine where the reader meets him while she’s with Carly, Wade, Nick, and the rest? Maybe where you feel your soulmates pain, or something. Sorry if this is too specific lol.

Bo Sinclair X Reader

Soulmate AU: shared pain and shared scars:

You had been friends with Carly for a little while now, which was how you got invited on the group’s road trip. You weren’t a massive fan of football and didn’t care much about the game you were going to see but you thought that getting away could be a little fun.

It was the night before the game when the group decided to camp out for the night and keep driving in the morning. After setting up the tents, you all sat around with drinks, talking among yourselves. 

As the group talked and laughed, you held your wrist in your hand, gently tracing the faint scarring with your thumb, an absentminded habit you had developed years ago. 

“Damn, they look nasty” Nick’s voice made you look away from the others and towards him, seeing how he eyed your wrists. 

“Leave her alone, Nick” Carly scolded her brother, already knowing about the scars you had received due to your unfortunate soulmate. 

“Are they yours?” Nick asked, completely ignoring his sister. You weren’t sure whether he was genuinely curious or actually trying to get under your skin. 

“...no” you answered honestly. 

“Unlucky bastard” Nick muttered before turning his attention back to his drink, like your conversation never even happened.

With everyone’s attention going back to more light-hearted conversation, you looked down at your scarred wrist and sighed. 

Carly had once asked you if you held any resentment for your soulmate, as have others in your life, and you had been perfectly honest with all of them. You held no resentment, you weren’t angry with your soulmate, you were nothing but sympathetic towards them. It wasn’t their fault that somebody hurt them like this, you just hoped that they had been able to get away from it.

Though, you doubted it. The injuries aren’t as frequent as they were in childhood, however they still occurred and they could be pretty bad. Once, you had even woken up in the middle of the night, bleeding from what looked like a knife wound.

“Here” Carly’s voice brought you out of your thoughts, making you look up to see her standing beside you with a smile. You returned her smile and accepted the can of beer she held out to you.

Opening the can, you hissed slightly as your thumb slipped and you cut yourself on the sharp metal, cursing your own clumsiness. You brought your thumb up to your mouth before lowering it again, taking a sip of your drink. 

- 

“Ah shit” Bo quietly cursed at the sudden stinging sensation in his thumb, it wasn’t particularly painful, just a shock.

He lifted his hand, noticing the slight cut on his thumb, and sighed. His soulmate must have done something stupid but he couldn’t find it within him to feel annoyed about it, not after everything he must have put them through.

He would probably be returning the favour pretty soon, since Lester had informed him of a group camping out nearby, they should be coming into town pretty soon. 

-

After the car broke down and everyone decided that there was nothing they could do to fix it, a man named Lester had offered to take three of you into a nearby town so that you could visit the garage there. So, you, Carly, and wade ended up walking into the town that Lester had left you on the outskirts on.

Walking under the hot Louisiana sun, you had to pull your jacket off and tie the sleeves around your waist. The three of you headed straight to the garage, which was easy to find, but found that there was nobody there. 

“Maybe there will be someone in the church?” Wade suggested, nodding towards the church at the end of the street.

“I’ll stay here in case someone comes back” you offered, thinking that the owner that Lester mentioned could be back any minute. 

“You sure?” Carly asked, not too sure about leaving you alone in a strange place. 

“What’s the worst that could happen?” you shrugged.

Carly and Wade nodded before heading to the church to find somebody who could help while you waited at the garage.

You sat down on the curb, glancing around the street. From where you were sitting, the church was just out of sight but you could see the top of the Wax Museum in the slight distance. Ambrose was a small town, extremely quiet. It almost seemed empty, only the sound of birds flying overhead breaking the silence. 

After a little while of waiting, you started to wonder why your two friends hadn’t come back. Surely they would have found somebody by now and if they hadn’t you thought they would come to tell you that. You were just about to go looking for them when footsteps caught your attention. You looked in the direction of the church, seeing a man in a full black suit walking towards you.

You paused for a moment, just staring at him as he approached. It felt like the air was sucked from your lungs, like the earth stood still just for a moment. The strange feeling was all consuming, you didn’t notice the falter in his steps that suggested that he might have experienced something similar. The sensation reminded you of the description Carly had given you when she was explaining what it’s like to meet your soulmate. Though his casualness in his following question made you doubt it. 

“Can I help you?” the man asked with a charming southern drawl. 

“Do you work here?” you asked as you stood up, dusting off your shorts. 

“Own the place” he nodded before walking over to the garage and unlocking the front door. “Are you here with two friends? I didn’t catch their names” he asked, nodding at you to follow him inside. 

“Yeah, Carly and Wade. You saw them?” you nodded as you followed him into the garage, feeling some relief to be out of the harsh sun. 

“Said they needed a fan belt, I sent them up to the wax museum to kill some time before I could help them. Didn’t realise they left someone else waiting here” he explained. You frowned a little, it would have been nice of them to have let you know rather than just leaving alone on the curb. 

Shaking the thought away, you put another smile on your face. “I’m Y/n, by the way” you introduced yourself politely, holding your hand out for him to shake. 

“Bo Sinclair” he introduced himself and took your hand, giving you a firm hand shake. His charismatic smile remained on his face, something closer to a smirk than a friendly smile. His name spoken in that alluring southern accent. You simply couldn’t help but be a little charmed by him.

His smirk faltered for a moment as he glanced down at your hands, noticing the scars that wrapped around your wrists. He paused for a moment, holding your hand a little too long as his gaze lingered on the scars. 

Bo didn’t comment on it, so the small feeling you had that his man could possibly be your soulmate left your mind. There was no way he didn’t recognise them if he had the same ones. They were too unique.

In that case, you figured his staring was just because of the scarring. You had experienced people staring at them from time to time, wondering how you got them, but you never let it bother you. You weren’t ashamed of them. 

Bo plastered the smirk back on his face as he released your hand. He couldn’t help but catch himself stare a little. You didn’t hide the scarring like he did. Yours were also a little fainter than his, probably because you had them tended too properly unlike him and they healed better. The intense, all consuming, feeling from earlier and now seeing the scars so similar to his own. It couldn’t be a coincidence... 

“You seem a little over dressed for a mechanic” you commented to break the awkwardness, understanding the tension that had developed but the two of you seemed to move past it relatively easily. 

“I was at a funeral before you’re two friends crashed it over a goddamn fanbelt” Bo told you, irritation clear in his voice. You couldn’t blame him in the slightest. 

“Oh...I’m so sorry” you apologised on behalf of your friends, now feeling a little bad for dragging him away to fix up your car. “Who did you loose, if you don’t mind me asking?” you asked, hoping to be sympathetic without prying too much. 

“My mother” Bo told you, making you even more apologetic. 

“I’m so sorry...about my friends and that you have to fix our car” you frowned, feeling even more awful than before. 

“Ain’t your fault, darlin’“ Bo assured you, truly not seeming angry with you. 

You couldn’t help but blush a little at the petname, you just couldn’t deny feeling an attraction towards this man. Having felt an instant connection to him. It was strange, and you were already finding yourself a little longing, knowing you’ll have to leave once the car was sorted. 

“C’mon, let’s see if I can find that fanbelt for you” Bo’s smirk quickly returned as he gestured you to follow him further into the garage. “One of your friends told me what size you needed” he informed you as he started searching through his supply of fanbelts. “And...we don’t have it” he hummed.

“You don’t? What now?” you asked with a frown, having no idea what you were supposed to do now. Where the hell were Carly and Wade?

“Don’t worry, no need to frown, sweetheart. We have the rest of the delivery up at the house, we’ll have the right size for ya” Bo assured you with a charming wink.

“You could have lead with that” you chuckled to yourself, feeling relieved and trying to ignore the way he had winked at you.

“C’mon, we’ll go up to the house and get it for ya. I’ll get my brother to tow your car and we’ll get you all sorted” he told you, quickly putting you at ease and making you feel like everything was going to work you.

“Thank you so much, Bo” you sighed, giving him a sincere smile.

“It’s not a problem” Bo nodded. “We’ll take my truck, it’s just outside” he informed you, placing a hand between your shoulder blades as he guided you outside.

The two of you got into his truck and Bo started driving towards his house. Normally this would be something that you would be suspicious about but something about him put you at ease.

“Those scars of yours...they’re pretty intense” Bo finally commented on them, he needed to know what you had to say. “They yours?” he asked, reminding you a little of your talk with Nick the night before.

“No, they’re my soulmate’s” you told him, gently rubbing your wrists.

“You must have really ripped into him when you met them, huh?” he joked half-heartedly, something in his tone that made you curious.

“Oh, I haven’t met them...but I wouldn’t rip into them” you frowned at the accusation. “I’ve had these scars since childhood, which means they likely did too...it’s not their fault somebody hurt them. I’m not angry at them at all” you shook your head, clearly meaning every word you said.

“I’d be pretty pissed” Bo scoffed before his voice softened slightly, “but you’re probably a good person.”

“They were hurt by somebody, how can I be angry at them for that? I’m angry at whoever did it to them...honestly, I just hope they’re alright now” you confessed. “Just wanna give them a hug, y’know?” you laughed lightly.

“I hope my soulmate feels the same as you, they’ve probably been through hell because of me” Bo told you.

You weren't sure what that meant, of course. You didn't know what Bo had been through to worry about his soulmate's reaction to him like that but you were sure your soulmate had some similar concerns and you didn't want to pry further.

“They won’t be mad at you” you promised him with a smile.

Bo gave you a slight smile as he pulled up outside of his house, the way he looked at you leaving you curious. You couldn't quite explain it.

As Bo and you climbed out of the truck, Bo knew that you were his soulmate and that he couldn't let you go. A part of him had been relieved to hear that you didn't harbour any resentment towards him but he knew that if you didn't hate him now, you certainly would by the end of the day.

Still, Bo was selfish. He could let his soulmate, especially such a good one like you, slip between his fingers. You were his, and you had come home. He wouldn't be letting you leave any time soon.

#bo sinclair x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slashers #slasher #my writing

[lebenspurpur]

{slashers x fem reader who has a blood kink? sorry if this is against ur boundaries u don’t have to if ur uncomfy!!!} submitted by anon but I accidentally deleted the original ask because I am an idiot.

Also darling, you're fine, all my boundaries got destroyed years ago.

Warnings: blood (duh), knives, a lot of cutting, mentions of self-harm and necrophilia.

Also a female reader this time.

Michael Myers

Oh Michael loves it.

Blood always gets this man going, I think we've established that.

Wait a second.

You want to cut him? *slowly backs off*

Yeah, he doesn't necessarily trust you with a knife.

Michael doesn't mind the pain, his pain endurance is way too high for that. It's just that cutting him would be a dominant action. And Michael really doesn't want to give you dominance.

He'll let himself get cut if he can cut you.

Michael is all for period sex if that's your thing. Be careful though, he is not going to be soft just because you're sensitive.

Michael just thrives off of the fact that, not only are you shedding blood, you're very sensitive and you're in pain as well.

A pure sadist, this man.

Vincent Sinclair

Blood? Doesn't that involve you getting hurt?

Vincent is skeptical.

He really, really doesn't want you to get hurt.

It would turn you on?

Hm.

Let's test it first.

Vincent will be very slow and careful, stopping as soon as he thinks something's wrong.

You have to reassure him to get going quite a lot.

After he realizes what effect blood has on your body, he overthinks it again and then consents.

He's going to create a new and very special safe word for this, just in case he ever really hurts you.

He himself doesn't really mind getting cut, as long as it makes you happy. This man would do anything for your happiness.

To be quite honest, Vincent loves the marks you leave on him. He looks at them in the mirror the next morning, a bashful grin painting his handsome features. I am so soft for Vincent please.

Period sex? Are you sure you're not in pain during that?

Vincent isn't grossed out by body fluids, but he won't go down on you during your time of the month.

His problem with period sex is that you're already hurting and he doesn't want to cause further harm.

He's perfectly fine with just fingering you and receiving blowjob though he can do without those if you don't want to until you're off your period again.

Vincent would literally do anything for you and I'm not kidding.

Bo Sinclair

"Woah there sugar... didn't think you'd be into that."

He's a bit surprised in the beginning.

Period sex is a no for him, don't even bring it up. He'll probably vomit already at the word period.

Him cutting you is totally fine and he likes that if you're fine with it.

However him getting cut is not going to happen.

To make it up to you, he can fuck you after he just killed a victim.

He'll thrust into you, fresh dark-red splashes of blood painted on his face.

"Do you like that? Knowing that I fucking killed a guy and then immediately came in here to fuck the shit outta you? I bet'cha do sugar."

Lester Sinclair

B-..blood?

Lester is pretty concerned until you explain it a bit better.

After that he's still concerned.

Hmm, how about animal blood?

Lester just doesn't want to be in pain and he doesn't want to put you in pain.

If you're fine with non-human blood then he's very relieved, having been scared that you'll leave him.

Please reassure your feelings for him or he's going to worry for months now.

Baby Firefly

She's a bit astonished in the beginning. She just didn't expect that from you, out of all people.

But, being a part of the Firefly family, she's totally down for it!

She'll gladly pepper you in little cuts and then suck at them. Baby loves using her tongue on you anyway so it's a win-win situation.

She's also very open for period sex. After all, she's done worse than eat someone out during their time of the month.

Baby is the best at aftercare. She'll make you a hot bubble bath, clean the cuts and she got sparkly pink band-aids for the both of you!

Otis Driftwood

Did you just say blood? *drags you to his torture room*

Otis... is so down for this.

Can he.. like carve his name into your body?

Oh and can he take a picture of you?

Can he take a picture of you next to a corpse?

You just wanted to see him bloody, god damnit.

Period sex is not something he'd insist on doing but he'll never say no to fucking you.

Billy Loomis

You want to do what?

Billy has never heard of a blood kink before. It reminds him of his love for the red substance though.

The only difference is that he doesn't use real human blood.

It takes a lot of coaxing but after a while he might be okay with cutting you a little bit..

After seeing how much you enjoy it, he might let you cut him too.. but not too deep!

Billy would also really enjoy fucking you after coming home from a kill. He'd be drenched in blood, the red fluid clinging to his chest and slowly smearing onto your back.

He smirks as he spreads the red fluid on your perky nipples, watching you throw your head back and moan shamelessly.

Stu Macher

Sure, why not?

Stu is an incredibly adventurous person, even when it comes to sex.

You trust him and he trusts you so where's the problem?

I don't think Stu would actively enjoy a blood kink but he's not going to say no since you asked him so nicely.

The pure facts that you're getting so aroused from a simple liquid is enough to make him turn feral anyway.

Who needs blood when you can have Y/N begging on her pretty, little knees for your cock?

Brahms Heelshire

"No."

"But-"

"I said no."

Yeah no, blood scares him.

It will need a lot of coaxing to even get him to try it.

I don't think he'd like it very much.

But Brahms will gladly kill the grocery-boy for you if you'd like to see him drenched in someone's blood.

Thomas Hewitt

Blood? Sweetheart, what if you get hurt?

He'll gently cradle your face in his big palms, searching for sincerity in your eyes.

Upon finding it, he'll nod and ask you to explain it to him again.

He'll try it for you. If you're going out of your way to ask this of him, he has to try it in his opinion.

He doesn't like the act of cutting to get either your or his blood and he'd rather have the blood to be his.

Tommy is a big, strong man. He can take a few small cuts.

But you're his tiny, sweet Y/N, he can't cut you?!

So yeah, to get him to cut you will be quite a quest.

As soon as he sees your reaction to blood, he blushes, desire clouding in his brown eyes.

Maybe this is a good idea after all.

He'd still have you or him covered in animal blood, rather than human blood.

Thomas doesn't care if you're on your period or not, but he'll immediately stop when you're in pain.

Just relax Y/N, he'll go get a towel and then he'll take care of his "little problem".

Josef

Blood? But why?

Okay, for you, he might try.

He enjoys it more than he originally thought.

Blood has an important meaning to him too and to see it spread all over your pretty body.. just does things to him.

Period sex is not his thing.

I don't even think he knows how periods work.

Amanda Young |TW SELF HARM|

Amanda has heard about blood kinks before and you can not change my mind.

She's down to try it if you both feel comfortable.

However, Amanda has had struggles with self-harm in her past and would therefore prefer you getting cut.

She just doesn't like willingly adding new scars to her collection.

There's something so arousing about you licking her bloody fingers clean, she can't help but press her thighs together.

Period sex?

She isn't the biggest fan of that idea but fingering you is not a problem to her.

She's kind of confused since her cramps are too painful to get aroused during her period.

Her aftercare is also very good. Amanda always has bandages and band-aids stacked away somewhere and she knows how to deal with the wounds she's left

#slashers x reader #slashers headcannons #michael myers x redaer #vincent sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #baby firefly x reader #otis driftwood x reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #josef x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #amanda young x reader

[dreamingofaizawa]

Good Kitty

Shouta Aizawa x Chubby! Kitty Hybrid! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

If you are under the age of 18, leave. Thank you.

Warnings: Kitty hybrid reader, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink (?), reader has insecurities, Shouta is soft and lowkey feral?, chubby kink (sorta), reader has a heat for the first time, barely implied virginity loss, a touch of dacryphilia

Word Count: 2.4 k

Author’s Note: This is inspired by @cupcake-rogue ’s fic Not Allowed on the Bed. I got permission to use it as inspo so here we are! Tbh the orignal had me feeling all sorts of feelings because, as a very subby sub that loves to please, I definitely have a praise kink and I WILL CRY if I’m called a bad girl. HOWEVER, Katsuki being the rough-around-the-edges guy he is wanting reader regardless of size made me very happy and warm and fuzzy. 

The premise with this is pretty much the same, except I made reader a kitty hybrid...and of course I wrote for Shouta, love of my life he is. I’m such a fucking simp. I’m not the biggest fan of the ending, but this has been sitting in my WIPs for too damn long and it’s decent enough for me to feel ok posting it.

Also, for reference, reader has black fur regardless of hair color. Reader could be blonde, but still have black ears and tail. That’s just the way I’ve chosen to write this for some reason, don’t ask me why, I’m weird like that. 

I think this is the first time I’ve written for a hybrid, so cut me a little slack.

Anywho, enjoy~

*

*

*

You can’t remember life outside the shelter. You’d grown up here, the caretakers said they’d found you on the street as a nearly newborn kitten and immediately scooped you up and brought you back here. That was a long time ago. Now you sit, waiting, your hopes for getting adopted diminishing with every passing day.

It’s unfortunate, but you still haven’t been adopted. It’s not that you’re bad, you always behave, you make sure you do. But you’ve overheard time and time again the people that gazed down at you and whispered about how you were too chunky, too big and too squishy for a kitty hybrid. And some even called you bad luck. The pitch black fur on your ears and tail warded off many.

Today was just the same as any other day. Wake up, get fed, wait in your room while potential owners pick and choose not you. Adults and children alike would take chunks out of their time to play with you, but they all left the shelter with another smaller cat. It was nearing bed time now, dinner just finished and the caretakers were about to start closing when the little bell on the front door jingled. Someone had just come in. You ignored it all the same.

Two pairs of footsteps began making their way past rooms, whoever it was that had entered smelled good, like coffee and tree bark. A smooth hum accompanied the caretaker’s voice, it made your ears twitch and tail sway gently. Still, you decided to just curl up in bed and try to sleep. The chance of him adopting you was slim, if it existed at all.

As you lay there your ears pick up their footsteps, the lazy set that dragged familiar, the nearly silent set less so. You listened as they came closer, never stopping as the man strode past each room and peered in the windows. You waited for them to pass right by your room, as they had been, but suddenly the footsteps halted. The caretaker spoke first.

“Y/n? You awake?” You let your eyes flutter open and sat up, tucking your legs under you and sitting up straight. They asked the man if he wanted to go in and see you, and he gave a simple nod. When he entered you finally looked up at him. The first thing you noticed were his eyes, tired and bloodshot with dark circles beneath them, a deep scar curved under his right eye. His long black hair fell around his shoulders, swaying lightly with every measured step he took toward you.

He stopped right in front of you, a large hand stretching out and you give it a small sniff before nudging your head into it, letting him pet your hair and scratch at the base of your ears. It felt nice to be getting attention like this. A small purr sounded in your chest, your tail gently swishing behind you.

“How long have you been here?” His voice is deep and calm, tired even, but it sounds so welcoming. It’s so soothing to your sensitive ears, like a warm blanket. You give a small hum before answering.

“A long time. I don’t remember anything outside this place.” At that he raised an eyebrow, turning to the caretaker with a questioning look.

“Most people look for...specific traits in the cat hybrids. Y/n here is well behaved, a perfect house kitty really,” you purred a bit at the praise, “But she’s a little larger than most. And her black fur wards off the more superstitious.” The man gives a curious hum before looking back down at you.

“Do you want to come home with me, kitty?” The question caught you a little off guard. Nobody really asked the hybrids if they wanted to go with them. You looked over to the caretaker, who nodded their head with a gentle smile, encouraging you to answer. All you could do was give a small nod, and soon you were in the car, on the way to your new home.

He’d told you to call him Shouta. He was nice, always quiet and never got mad. He never smiled, but you supposed that’s just the way he is. He gave you your own room, and always let you rub up on him when you wanted to, taking the opportunity to pet you. Occasionally you got the odd kiss on the forehead when you nuzzled into his neck. Those always made you purr. He never came seeking you out, which was good since there were times you really didn’t want to be touched. 

The longer you’re with him the closer you get, and you find yourself doing things you’d never thought to do before. Sometimes you found the floor more comfortable than the couch, and would kneel down and rub up on his leg, your tail wrapping around his ankle. There were times you’d see his fingers idly drumming on his lap, and you’d lay down and nibble on one with your little fang-like canines. He didn’t seem to mind that little oral fixation, and he always let you do whatever you wanted. All in all, life with Shouta is great.

But today you feel weird. You’d been cooped up in your room for the first hour or so of the weekend morning, not quite wanting to go out and make it known something was off. But it’s gotten abnormally hot, your face and chest especially warm, and between your legs as well. Your panties are beginning to feel damp, your thighs starting to feel humid and sticky. It’s a little uncomfortable. And your tummy is starting to boil, neediness beginning to cloud your mind. This never happened at the shelter.

Reluctantly, you step out of bed onto slightly wobbly legs and peek your head out of your door to see him sitting on the couch, a book in hand and a mug of coffee on the table. His hair is loose, his strong lean body relaxed as he read. The sight of him and his scent made the feeling worse, made your panties and thighs wetter, your chest beginning to heave with your panted breaths. 

“Sh-shouta…” Your voice came out shakier and quieter than you wanted it to, but he’d heard you regardless. He closed the book and peered over at your shaking form in the doorway.

“What is it kitty?” You nearly mewled at his voice, his heavenly smooth baritone sending a shiver down your spine through to the tip of your tail.

“Something’s wrong...I feel weird…” As you tell him about everything that’s happening to your body, he’s dragging his eyes over you, taking in every detail. Soon he’s on the phone with the doctor, you can’t quite comprehend his words, only catching snippets. ‘Help’ and ‘how long’, followed by agreeing hums. It was all jumbled after that, your mind refusing to focus as you leaned heavily on the doorframe, your quivering legs barely able to hold your body.

Shouta’s large hand came up and cupped your cheek, letting you nuzzle into his palm. When had he hung up the phone? He ordered you to sit on the bed, and you obliged, watching as he swept up his hair into a loose bun and strode over, tilting your chin to look up at him through half-lidded eyes. He’s so close, his scent overwhelming and making your brain fuzzy.

“You’re in heat, kitty.” Heat...where had you heard that before? Back at the shelter, maybe? It was all a distant, unfocused memory right now. Shouta leaned down and kissed you sweetly, lips melding with yours as you purred and mewled, your tail thrashing behind you. His hands tugged at your clothes until you were bare before him, every inch of you on display. 

“You’re such a pretty kitty, you know that? So beautiful. Lay down for me.” The praise made you purr, made a chill crawl up your spine and your tail flick wildly. You obeyed the command, laying flat in the middle of the bed and he slotted himself between your legs, plunging two fingers into your tight hole. He let out a groan, pumping and scicssoring his fingers to stretch you out. You were already a sloppy mess, loud squelches ringing through the room in between your loud, whiny mewls and panting. 

It felt so good, the heat in your belly burning and tightening until Shouta’s fingers curled up into a spot that made stars dance in your vision. The pressure in your belly snapped hard, your legs trembling as he kept fingering you through it. His fingers slowed when you whined about it being too much, too sensitive. But you still felt hot all over, now it was worse, you wanted something so bad but you didn’t know what.

He got up and undressed himself and you licked your lips at his naked body, scarred skin pulled taut over thick muscle. What stood between his legs had heat spreading like fire through your body. You’d never seen a naked man before. He was quick to return to you, slotting his hips between your thighs and guiding the thick head of his cock along your soaked folds. 

“Relax kitty. I’m gonna make you feel good.” You gave a small nod and then he was pushing his thick cock inside you, groaning at the way your pussy clamped down on him. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth as he slowly pushed and pumped his hips, cock dragging along your wet warm walls perfectly. Mewls slipped past your lips, high pitched whines and pants like music in Shouta’s ears. 

His hands wandered over your body, squishing and pulling at every piece of you he could get his calloused fingers on. It made you squirm beneath him, your own hands trying to push his away, but he wasn’t having any of it. He grabbed both your wrists and pinned them above your head in one strong hand, then went right back to groping your body with his free one.

“I can’t have you stopping me from touching you, kitty.” That’s all he said before focusing back on your body. He tugged at your belly, your sides, every place that was fatty and squishy. He’d never admit out loud how much he loved how soft you are. You’re perfect, plump and meaty, just more for him to touch, to look at, more to squeeze and pinch and pull.

He groaned out as you whined beneath him, tears beginning to clump in your lashes because he just kept squeezing, and he isn’t fucking you hard enough. Your orgasm built slowly with his languid pace, not nearly enough to get you to that peak and you were frustrated because you wanted relief but it wouldn’t come. Shouta picks up on your hips jerking and rolling, trying to get him to fucking move faster. He pulled his hips back and slammed back in, setting a brutal pace and making you whine high and long. 

Tears begin to fall from the sheer ecstasy of it, and he’s realizing how much he loves to see you cry from the pleasure he can give you. With a groan, he’s releasing your hands and wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face into your breasts and biting and sucking at your skin as he pounds you into the mattress. He isn’t normally an impulsive man, wouldn’t let himself let go like this. But for you. For you he’d give in to his lust and ravage you like you need him to.

Your orgasm slams over your body like a tsunami, your muscles locking up and a loud yip ringing from your throat, pleasure making your whole body shake. Shouta let out a hiss, your nails digging into the muscles in his back furiously, but he wouldn’t stop for that. He never stuttered in his pace, just kept ramming his hips into yours, heavy balls slapping against your ass and lewd squelches coming from where your bodies are connected. 

You’re overstimulated, throat feeling raw and tears still falling down your heated cheeks as you thrash from another orgasm, this one just as powerful as the last and making your vision spot black. This time Shouta leans back, wrapping a hand around your throat and licking the salty trails away.

“Such a good little kitty for me, so good.” With a few more thrusts he’s spilling inside you, and you can feel the warmth spread in your belly as you lay there, boneless. He lays down on top of you, both of you sweaty and tired and he starts whispering sweet words into your twitching ears.

“So pretty. You’re so pretty, kitten.” 

“Such a good girl for me.”

“You’re all mine, kitty. So good, all for me.” Tears begin to spill from your eyes for a different reason. Up until now you’d lived your life believing nobody wanted you because there was something wrong with you. You never felt ugly, never really felt like there was something truly wrong with you, but you always felt...unwanted. Unloved. Unlovable. 

But Shouta makes you feel wanted, and loved, and pretty and all the things you always assumed you didn’t deserve. You’re his kitty now, and you’re such a good kitty for him too. He’s showering you with affection that you’d never known before and you’re shaking from all the overwhelming emotions. He can feel your body quivering, leans back to look at you and cups your face in his warm palm.

“What’s wrong, kitten? Why are you crying?” Your nose twitches as you sniffle, which he mildly notes is fucking adorable.

“Do you mean it? Am I a good kitty?” His eyebrows furrow and he rolls the both of you over so you’re on top of him. He’s peering into your big sad eyes as if reading your soul through them, trying to read the emotions you’re feeling, but it isn’t hard for him to figure out what’s racing through your mind. You nuzzle your nose into his neck and breathe in his scent, his hand coming up to pet your hair and ears.

“Of course, kitten. You’re such a good kitty.” The small reassurance makes you feel warm and happy, your tail flicking softly before curling around both your leg and Shouta’s, the end brushing his skin gently. You can’t help but want to stay with Shouta forever.

#shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x fem reader #shouta aizawa mha #shouta aizawa bnha #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa shouta x fem reader #aizawa shouta mha #aizawa shouta bnha #aizawa mha #aizawa bnha #tw: hybrid #shouta aizawa smut #aizawa shouta smut #aizawa smut