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iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin · 2 months

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bully⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

friday, kim taerae— select choir

⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. game day (group) chapter here. all 7 endings here.

⋆˙⟡ wc: 2.7k

⋆˙⟡ reader: just one gn!reader version for this (no pronouns are used at all to describe reader; reader is describe as having a "pretty" mouth but no gendered or femme language)

⋆˙⟡ series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated.

⋆˙⟡ friday summary: it's the end of the most bizarre week of your life. last year, you would've been overjoyed to spend time in select choir with your friend kim taerae. but that all went down the drain after hanbin recruited him into his group of incessant jerks... and he's desperate to officially be one of the guys.

⋆˙⟡ warnings: explicit smut. 18+. minors do not interact. please read specific smut warnings under the cut! swearing. angst. slight dub-con. bullying. the lore for taerae is so SAD. i'll make sure his ending is happy, i promise. also we've got a ft. hanbin chapter but just in digital form.

⋆˙⟡ bully scale: ★★★★★ (5.0)

(idk the bully scale is subjective but like imagine your best friend saying this shit about you WHY IS HE DOING THAT OMG jk i know why and soon you will too)

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: oral, (taerae receiving), throat fucking (reader receiving), brief handjob and heavy petting (taerae receiving), cumming without warning in mouth, filming of sexual act, voyeur!hanbin, slight dubcon but like for both of them kind of idk you'll see but it's slight, bullying, the usual.

friday.

you should be elated that this week is nearly over. and you are. mostly, anyway.

but there was an indescribable thrill to all this that you couldn’t seem to shake. all that talk of ravens yesterday had got you thinking...

why did you dislike ravens in the first place?

thinking. crying. haphazardly finishing all of your assignments due friday that you’d procrastinated the whole week. urgent texts to and from mina after her ✨jiwoong oppa✨ stood her up for their date.

one thing was for certain: you desperately need sleep.

that’s why you’re currently falling asleep sitting up, hard-back music folder open in your hands as professor yoo works with the bass section. the lowest notes of “requiem” are soft and soothing and, for you at this sleep-deprived moment, very dangerous.

luckily a sharp elbow to the shoulder jolts the drowsiness right out of you.

you look to your left to find kim taerae giving you one of the most judgmental glares you’ve ever earned in your life.

you would expect nothing less from him.

at one time a judgmental glare from taerae was the equivalent of a hug. you returned the gesture happily. and also threw in some hugs whenever he’d let you. he squirmed a bit, but the big smile that would grow on his face made it all worth it.

but there’s no warmth behind his eyes now. just a sharp elbow pointed at you, threatening to strike again if you didn’t shape up quick enough.

“you’re gonna get yourself in trouble,” he warns with a frown.

you roll your eyes. “why do you care?”

“because, unfortunately, some people still think we’re friends,” he says, making thin lines with his pencil on a page of his sheet music. “and i don’t want to suffer the social consequences of your embarrassing actions.”

“mm,” you agree wordlessly. “guess i should’ve thought of that myself.”

he doesn’t respond for a few moments, eyes focused on his sheet music until an audible sigh comes from his direction. “why are you so tired anyway? s’not like you.”

“for all you know, it could be,” you retort with a huff. “maybe i’m a real night owl now. maybe i’m out partying or smoking or... something.”

taerae snorts. “jiwoong hyung was not lying about those tragic acting skills.”

“oh, fuck off,” you reply.

his eyes widen. and then promptly squint with suspicion. “since when did you swear like that?”

you frown, trying to discern what he could mean. hadn’t you always been this uninhibited with your tongue?

the answer was no. you hadn’t. and this new speech pattern of yours had a very specific origin: monday afternoon. you exhale a chuckle. maybe you had yet to realize the full extent of how this week has changed you.

and how your desire to change back continues to dwindle.

you just shrug, returning your focus to your music. you feel taerae’s eyes on you as you track your vocal section’s part in “requiem”.

you and taerae had purposefully chosen seats next to each other in choir last year so that you could goof off together during every possible free moment. it was also convenient for your parents, who always wanted to get pictures of you two together during concerts ever since high school.

now you wish you went to different universities altogether.

ironically, you might’ve had a better chance of remaining friends if you’d had distance. but you and taerae disagreed quite adamantly at the time.

halfway through your two-hour rehearsal, you’re allowed a fifteen minute break to grab water and stretch your legs. you always wander off down the empty storage hallway, where your favorite vending machine is hidden in plain sight— the one with the oreos and cheez-its and bugles in it.

pulling out your debit card, you insert the chip into the machine and punch in the number for the snack of your choosing. you watch happily as it falls down from it’s spiral prison into the dispenser below. you start to bend down when a hand reaches in before you and grabs your snack.

“hey, what the—…” you trail off as you come face to face with a cavernous dimple. “give it back. now.”

“you’re so touchy today,” taerae condemns with a click of his tongue. he holds your snack high above his head, dangling it in a challenge. “seriously, what’s gotten into you this week?”

“oh, you know exactly what,” you huff, reaching for the snack in vain.

taerae laughs. “i guess a better question would be: what hasn’t gotten into you this week?”

“you’re so fucking funny,” you snap, fingers finally closing around the wrapper as you yank it down.

taerae’s brow is raised in surprise, not really caring about the repossession of the snack. “seriously, i’m not used to you swearing like that. i’m not sure if i like it.”

“i assumed there was nothing you liked about me anymore,” you retort, tearing open your snack and shoveling the processed glory down your throat.

“that’s not true,” he replies, hand suddenly reaching to your face. he brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, a crumb transferring from you to him. he brings his thumb to his own lips and tastes it. “i still like your pretty mouth.”

when you finally manage to pick your jaw up off the ground, you shake your head. “i know you don’t think of me like that.”

“uh...” taerae mumbles awkwardly, glancing at the row of shelves behind you. “sure, i do.”

“oh yeah? how about mina’s pool party two years ago? when we—.”

“OH, actually you—,” he interjects urgently, glaring at you to shut up. normally you would. but after this week, you no longer feel bound to quiet compliance. “you don’t need to—.”

“—were playing spin the bottle and it landed on me and you threw up in the pool because you were so disgusted by the mere thought of kissing me—”

his lips crash onto yours, hand cupping your cheek. it’s a demanding, yet tentative kiss and you’re even more confused when it ends.

you take a step backward, folding your arms across your chest.

“can you just—...” taerae grabs your arm and pulls you closer to him, glancing again at the row of shelves behind you. “yes, that’s perfect.”

“what’s perfect?” you ask with a frown, starting to grow immune to strange behavior after the week you’ve had.

“oh, um.... you,” taerae answers after a moment with a smirk. “you were always so perfect, (y/n). perfect grades. perfect manners. perfect body. i used to jump at the chance to sleep over when your mom would let me. you used to beg her until she finally said yes, because she knew you'd never misbehave. remember, honey?"

eyes wide at the dark shift in his tone, you nod slowly.

“you were so innocent... you slept shirtless, for fuck's sake. peacefully dreaming, while i pretended to be asleep on the floor,” he continues, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “hoping i wouldn't wake you up if i just lifted the covers to get a peek."

when you thought the worst of your pain this week was over…

“tae,” you breathe, eyes watering— pleading for this not to be true. it couldn’t be. at least... not in the vulgar way he was describing it. "you don't mean that."

at the sound of your despair, there's a momentary flash in his eyes. regret. you still know him like the back of your hand.

“why are you doing this?” you ask, hands flying to cup either side of his face. he flinches, trying his best not to look you in the eye again. trying not to let you see. “you don’t have to be my friend anymore if you really don’t want to. but i don’t know why you want to be like them when you’re miles better than they’ll ever—.”

“alright, that’s enough.”

the muffled, tinny voice comes out of nowhere. you look around your immediate surroundings, trying to discern where it came from.

“c’mon, you were doing so well,” the voice rings again. “you said you had this under control, bud. was i wrong to put my trust in you?”

“no, hyung,” taerae answers, shaking his head. “i—… i can do it.”

“hanbinnie?” you ask and then cough awkwardly to cover up the fact you just called your arch nemesis so affectionately. yesterday must’ve gotten to you more than you know. “i mean, hanbin-ah! what the actual hell is going on?”

“no need to worry about it, sweetheart,” hanbin’s voice dismisses again. taerae’s eyes dart towards the shelves behind you once more. you follow his gaze— jaw dropping when you see two camera lenses staring back at you.

“what—...” you fumble, shaking your head in disbelief as you look at the back of taerae’s phone— propped up with a black music folder. “you’re recording this!?”

“afraid so,” hanbin answers for taerae. “i didn’t really think he could follow through without some supervision. don’t mind me though. unless you just can’t help yourself...”

while at the beginning of this week a situation as perverted and bizarre as this would’ve had your whole nervous system shutting down, you’re still standing tall. present in this strange moment. you smirk.

“aw, tae,” you coo mockingly, turning to your former friend. “how sentimental of you...”

a brow arches in confusion back at you. “what are you––?”

“of course you’d wanna capture such a special moment on camera,” you continue with a patronizing nod. “it’s not every day that you lose your virginity.”

“HEY THAT’S—…” taerae starts to yell at you for sharing this embarrassing personal detail that you’re sure he never disclosed to hanbin. “that’s… that’s not true.”

“oh come on, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you twist the metaphorical knife as hanbin stifles a laugh. “i’d be happy to help you out with that, since i was the one who had to listen to you whine for four years about how you were still. a. fucking—”

two fingers are down your throat in an instant. you gag, trying to step backwards, but taerae’s hand finds the back of your head— holding you in place. he removes his fingers slowly, pupils dilating when you whimper in fear.

“i’ve decided i don’t like the swearing,” he says, a sickening hint of sweetness in his tone. any upperhand you had is now gone as he traces your lips with his thumb. “such a pretty mouth. those filthy words shouldn’t be coming out of it.”

“y-you don’t get to decide that,” you stammer unconvincingly.

“so that’s what you really want, then?” he asks, sticking his thumb further into your mouth. you suck obediently. “you wanna have a filthy mouth?”

you nod, his thumb still pressed against your tongue— cheeks hollowed out as taerae bites his lip hungrily.

“then you can have it,” he says before removing his thumb from your mouth and pressing down on your neck and shoulder— forcing you to your knees in front of him. you guess joining the soccer team had really improved his strength. “just remember it’s what you said you wanted.”

taerae unbuttons his jeans, pulling the zipper down. he freezes, clearly unsure of what to do next. maybe this is your opportunity to wiggle your way out of this. if only your curiosity wasn’t equally as strong.

“we––... i have to audition after this,” you protest weakly. “when break’s over, i have to audition for the solo i’ve been prepping for so i want to keep my voice warm right now and—.”

“ah, that’s right. i did forget about that,” he affirms, looking up at the ceiling in thought before smirking back down at you. “but i think i can help keep it pretty warm, actually.”

your attempt to level with taerae only seems to encourage him as he pulls down his jeans and boxer-briefs. you inhale sharply as his hard cock comes to eye-level, so close you can really examine it. though it’s slightly smaller than hanbin’s, it’s thicker and you need to know immediately how it feels in your hand.

“whoah, you—,” taerae stumbles, eyes wide as you take him eagerly in your hand. he stares at you, lips parted as you start to pump him. “holy shit.”

“you’re sure you wanna do this?” you ask, pausing your motion to make eye contact with him. you can tell he doesn’t want you to stop, but there’s conflict lingering there that he just can’t seem to hide.

taerae clears his throat, shaking his head as he resumes his tough guy act. eyes cold once more, he shrugs. “a hole’s a hole.”

after a year of judgmental berating from your former best friend, it was almost comforting to know that he was capable of being even meaner than he already was. it meant that, for whatever reason, he usually didn’t want to be any meaner to you.

he takes both of your hands in one of his, keeping you from using them as his other hand finds the back of your neck again— guiding your face towards his cock. taerae doesn’t need to give much guidance though. you’re aching to get a taste and the way your lips sink down around him nearly knocks the wind out of him.

back pressed against the side of the vending machine, his thumb presses into your cheek— feeling himself inside of your pretty mouth. you swirl your tongue around his tip, causing him to moan softly.

there’s a little bit of rustling coming from where taerae’s phone is propped up on the shelf. you wonder if hanbin’s enjoying this. if he’s touching himself— wishing he was throat deep in you instead.

“c’mon, bud. is (y/n) running this show or are you?” hanbin asks, tone laden with frustration.

“i—... i am,” taerae asserts, grip tightening across the back of your neck.

he starts to thrust gently into your mouth, an action that you’re not so familiar with. it rattles you a bit— loss of control after feeling like you were gaining it back.

“this is what you asked for, baby,” he reminds you, shallow thrusts starting to venture a bit deeper. “remember? you said you wanted a filthy mouth. so i’m gonna make a mess of it.”

you find the right rhythm to breathe through the thrusts. the tip of his cock is dangerously close to entering your throat, sending another wave of anxiety through you. but it’s not for long.

your eyes meet taerae’s and, though he’s the one putting you in that danger, you suddenly feel very safe. you let out a sigh, the vibration causing him to mewl. he scratches at your neck affectionately, putting pressure against it to feel himself inside you as he fucks your throat.

“see, keeping that throat nice and warm,” taerae coos as his breathing gets heavier— and his moaning gets louder. “take me so well, i—.”

“shut the fuck up, dude,” hanbin scolds, his own breath growing labored. “do you wanna get caught before you can win the—?”

before hanbin can finish his thought, you feel a warm, sticky liquid begin to pour down your throat. you pull off of taerae, sputtering and coughing as you try to swallow it down. wiping your mouth, you look up at taerae who is looking at you like he wants to dive straight into the han river and never return.

“for fucks sake, are you actually a virgin or something?” hanbin asks angrily. “is that really all you can last for? and, jesus, you’ve gotta warn someone before you do that.”

your throat is starting to burn and you’d love to be able to say something, anything, but the rasp that comes out isn’t pleasant-feeling. you rub at your throat with your now-free hands as taerae’s expression just turns more horrified.

“did i... did i hurt you? fuck, i didn’t mean to—,” taerae starts to babble uselessly until hanbin claps loudly.

“good work, team!” he says as he finishes his round of applause. “mvp definitely goes to me, for coming up with this idea in the first place. i’ll see the campus activities secretary at the big game tomorrow, right?”

“mm,” is all you can croak out. you wish it sounded angrier.

“and i’ll see you at practice tonight, man. i—,” hanbin cuts himself off with a confused look. “wait, where did he go?”

you face forward, expecting to see taerae standing next to the vending machine but... hanbin’s right. he’s vanished.

“that kid’s a piece of work,” hanbin says, shaking his head. “you think he’d be more grateful after i took him under my wing and made him popular. i even got him a spot on the soccer team after a lot of private coaching. i mean, he’s benched for life, but still!”

you’re a saint among men, is what you wish you could say. instead, you just roll your eyes.

“just take his phone and give it back to him in class, will you?” hanbin asks as you stand up and make your way toward the shelves. “and drink some hot tea for that throat, okay? throw some honey in it and you’ll be good as new for tomorrow, i promise.”

you sigh. and you nod. and you pick up taerae’s phone and end the video call.

and you go back to choir and sit in your black music chair and wait for taerae to come back, but he doesn’t. and when it’s time to audition for the solo you’ve been preparing for, you stay seated and quiet.

seated and quiet.

like you’ve been for so long.

and when practice ends and the choir room is empty and you remain seated and quiet in your black music chair and tears begin to well up in your eyes, you don’t cry.

you smile.

you stand up.

you shout (briefly, so as not to disturb anyone in neighboring classrooms).

at some point or another, you forgot how to do these things. or you were made to feel like you couldn’t or shouldn’t.

but that’s who you really are.

who you were always meant to be.

not a juliet. not a violin. not a goalie. not a bird. not a pretty mouth.

you.

you pick up your bag off the floor (and taerae’s) and throw them both over your shoulder, making a beeline toward the door.

absolutely, hanbinnie, you think. you’ll see me at the big game.

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won4ver · 2 months

Text

words left unsaid

- Jay Park’s voicemail

pairing : idol!jay x nonidol!reader

genre + warnings : angst. mcd.

wc : 553

series masterlist

I saw you on tv today. I was invited to our friend's house for dinner, I just never anticipated what greeted me.

I was so excited to go, well I like to tell myself that. I tried to be excited, tried to hype myself up all day. I knew it was too late to back out, and I thought I was finally well enough to go out without you.

I should’ve known better, should’ve known that I still needed more time to heal. Obviously you were on their tv, your dramas play everywhere.

It was a blessing when you were here, but now it’s nothing but a curse. To see the face of the person I love so much through nothing but a television show. it was like i was looking at a copycat, it wasn’t you but it looked and sounded like you.

I know I shouldn't expect people to avoid you the same way I do, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. I tried my hardest to not look at the tv, to block out the sounds with the chatter of those beside me.

But even through their loud laughter all I could focus on was your voice in the background. a dialogue that would do nothing but haunt me for the next few weeks.

I think I'm going crazy, I've been hearing you on repeat in my head. But it’s not you that I'm hearing, it’s your facade from your dramas. I'm hearing all the different lines that we rehearsed together, your voice conveying the false emotions through your expirations.

I don’t think they noticed the way your drama affected me, or maybe they did. Lately I've been feeling like everyone is against me, that everyone is waiting for the day I truly break.

but they don’t know me like you did, they wouldn’t know that I can’t break anymore. Your absence is the worst punishment I'd ever had to endure. Knowing you aren’t coming back is like an unavoidable nightmare that exists while I'm awake.

I’m suffering both in sleep and reality. there is no escaping what we could’ve been, and what we aren’t.

I miss you more than anything, i’d do whatever to go back in time and stop you from leaving me. I should’ve paid more attention, I should’ve done more.

I could go on forever, but you weren’t granted that long. I’m trying to hold myself back right now, trying to swallow the words that are overflowing.

I don’t want to say it, maybe if i don’t say it it won’t happen, right? You won’t let it happen? They can’t let someone else use your number, it’s the only way I can speak to you. The only way I can hear your voice even if it’s just in a voicemail.

I can’t lose the one thing I have left of you, I can’t lose anymore of you. Please do whatever you can, please don’t let them take your number away. I still need you, I need all of you.

I love you, alright? Even if they do take this away from me, they could never take you away. Even if I can’t remember the way your voice sounds, I won’t love you any less.

You will always be my everything, my first and only love.

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biaswreckingfics · 1 year

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Now… why are you doing this to me? Why? I need answers. You’re absolutely right too which makes me wanna asdfghjkl 😭😭 he would be so messy 😭😭 I just know Sangyeon would love to hear every dirty thought in your head and then make them all come true 😭😭 playing it off like you should’ve expected nothing less from him 😭😭 I hate (love) it here

He'd be the absolute worst about it because he might like to live fast-paced but you know, hes gonna take his time to find out every little thing that you like. Sangyeon wouldnt force the information out - it's not fun that way. He'd coax it out of you so gently, there'd be faux-innocence in his smile and genuine intrigue all over his face.

The conversation is initially innocent and, for lack of a better word, cute-it's like two high-schoolers were excited to be sneaking around. But then he'd slowly edge into more risqué territory. Asking you what you're interested in, what you'd want to explore. And bless, you don't even realise at first what he's hinting at until he clarifies "i don't think we could take this into the bedroom" his tone would be light and playful but his eyes, theyd have an entirely different kind of mischief about them.

You don't even realise but youre spilling all your fantasies and desires to him and getting very little information back. His patience only making you more inclined to tell him everything he wants to know. You needed him to know. And boy, he may seem calm and composed on the outside, but on the inside, his insides are swirling, he wants nothing more than to take you there. And after a bit more discussion of all things naughty, nice, and necessary, he will. And when he does, anything that can be put into immediate effect-e.g.: hair pulling, name kinks, degradation or praise-he will gladly bring into play. After all, soon is not soon enough. He'll make sure youre okay, obviously, he cares about you and your pleasure after all.

You'll regret and be thankful for not being able to hold back. But he'll make it known, not just then, but every single time that he's making each and every one of your fantasies and wishes come true, that you shouldve seen it coming because after all why else would he ask.

~ i dont know why im doing this to us 😭😭 but now im glad i did not get started on the sunwoo train because that boy lives to be a menace 😭

-🦁

----------------------------------

I'm so serious when I say I will for real kick your ass off my page if you even THINK of doing this with Sunwoo 🔪🔪 I would have to yeet myself bc I WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO HANDLE IT 😭😭😭

That being said @dontflailmenow come see this shit, because if us two are already suffering, you need to join in. I REFUSE to partake in this with just 🦁 from now on!! 😤😤 I need someone to keep me sane!!

#submission #🦁 anon #the way tumblr doesnt even tell me about submissions/asks anymore??? like ok

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apex-academy · 1 year

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Chapter 6: The Decay of Our Lives (#2)

No new floors to investigate this time. I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do now. There’s still that student file cabinet, I guess? Or maybe I should check on the people I still haven’t seen. Or Aidan. He did look a little worse for wear, now that I’m thinking about it.

The options swirl in my head, but I can’t quite seem to reach out and grip one to commit to.

“......”

Maybe I’ll just rest for now.

...

After some time spent half-reading, half-dozing, I’m broken from my tired stupor by a knock on the door.

“You in here?”

“...”

Okay, mostly broken from it. Not enough to register whose voice that is, but enough to get up and go check. After a minute of trying to tug the door open, I realize it’s still locked.

Really that kind of day, huh?

But at least it saves me from hesitating once I’m physically able to open it. I’m met with a clash of loud colors that are pretty easy to identify.

“Ah, Kanagi.”

“Yo. You had lunch yet?”

I shake my head, even if it takes me a minute to parse the question. When did lunchtime get here?

“You?”

“I’m, like, goin’ around first.”

“Already gotta bring Iggy his, so. Might as well see where else my, like, delivery service or whatever’s going today.”

“I’m good to get something myself, I think. You need any help?”

She heaves a loud sigh.

“Probably??"

“Like, at this point, I’m mostly just peeling fruit and trying not to set spaghetti on fire.”

“...Yeah, I can help.”

“Sweet.”

The walk to the cafeteria is a blur, like most everything else right now. I sure hope no one’s been confiding anything important to me. Or at least nothing they wanted me to remember.

Kanagi kicks the kitchen door open for the both of us and grabs herself a yogurt drink.

“You wanna do the fruit or the s’getti?”

“Are those our only options?”

She shrugs. “ ‘s all I got, but if you got better ideas, go for it, dude.”

I wander around the little island.

“Plenty of cookbooks if we need ideas.”

“Not sure I’m up for that much effort. Maybe some hand rolls or something?”

“Whyyyy not.”

“I can totally get the rice stuff going, but, like, you might wanna do the actual stuff yourself if you don’t want it crunchy.”

“Raw crunchy or burnt crunchy?”

“...Yes.”

“...”

“ ‘Less you like it that way! Seems like most peeps totally don’t, though.”

“Are you ‘most peeps’?”

“No way, dude.”

True on so many levels.

“And they put you in charge of cooking.”

“Like, sometimes? Depends on who feels like trash and who doesn’t. That super keeps swapping around.”

“Always gotta at least take Iggy his, though.”

“Yeah, guess he’s not in any shape to be cooking, huh.”

Between that and Yuki... being gone...

...

“Wait. Am... Am I the only one here who can cook?”

“Prolly.”

“...................” This is the most bizarre twist of fate I’ve suffered through yet.

“Okay, well. Let’s find some stuff to chop up.”

She shoots me a finger gun. “That, I can totally do.”

We rummage through the fridge and freezer for fish and vegetables. Maybe some cream cheese. I don’t know.

I’m still not qualified for this job, but we’ve survived this far. As long as I don’t cook up some very severe food poisoning, everything should be fine.

And just as I think that, Kanagi starts flinging knives around to get chopping. I can only make out one healing cut on her hand at the moment, so that’s... probably also fine.

Maybe she should’ve asked Tsunyasha for help, if that’s how we’re playing this.

Kanagi attempts to hum about three notes before quitting. She looks at me over her shoulder as I start pouring rice.

“Yo, you wanna play a couple sets once this's done?”

“Of volleyball? Not really feeling quick enough on my feet today.”

Or in my head. The possibility of me zoning out as a ball approaches my face at Mach 5, combined with the fact I don’t stand any kind of chance against her competitively, does not incline me to agree to this.

“ ‘Kay.”

She may or may not seem a little more upset than I’d expect. Too much of my focus is just on not chopping, burning, or otherwise ripping any fingers off.

I succeed, and we assemble some weird form of sushi-and-fruit bentos for everyone. Not very artistic, but that isn’t my M.O. with food.

Not gonna think about whose it is. Was. Not now.

I focus on Kanagi stacking up the boxes instead.

“Aaaand delivery hours. Woo-hoo.”

“You seem excited.”

“Yyyyeah, not really.”

Too excited to pick up on sarcasm.

Either way, I help with the deliveries. I’m not allowed to enter Mahavir’s room, apparently—something about Aidan, and me in particular, and an extra degree of distance transmission-wise—but there’s no trouble with the rest. Bentos on proverbial doorsteps, no knives or pieces of chalk thrown. I think Kanagi appreciates the help. Doesn’t seem like she’s in an appreciative kind of mood.

What does it say about the rest of us when even Kanagi seems a little dull?

Nothing. We all just need some rest.

It doesn’t have to be anything worse than that.

[BACK] [NEXT]

#apexplot #apex6 #fangan

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onecanonlife · 3 years

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Tommy is dead. The server reacts.

(word count: 1,732)

---------------

“What have you done?”

His voice is a reedy whisper, thin with horror and the realization that he is too little, too late. He doesn’t expect the sound to carry over the lava, but a response comes soon enough.

“He wouldn’t stop talking. And he killed the cat.”

Dream’s voice is even, calm, almost a bit defensive, as if he truly believes that he is justified in his actions. Sam swallows down his mounting nausea, places his trident against the floor to steady himself. The lava crackles, hisses, bubbles, orange and glowing, and he can’t cross it. Not now. Not when the security threat remains unresolved. Not when any wrong move on his part could very well mean Dream’s escape.

But he’s already made the wrong move, hasn’t he? Made the wrong move, and Tommy has paid for it. Has been paying for it, this whole last week. He kept him in there, kept him locked in a box with Dream even though he knows very well how it would effect him, kept him locked in with the reasoning that it was temporary, that he would let him out as soon as he could, that he couldn’t risk Dream’s release for anyone, even for Tommy.

But it’s not temporary.

Tommy was sixteen and loud-mouthed and bright-eyed when Sam last saw him, when he said that this would be the last time, that he was going to put his past behind him and look to a new start. Tommy will always be sixteen and loud-mouthed and bright-eyed, and locked in a box. There will be no new start. No seventeenth birthday. No triumphant return, no shining hotel. No tricks, no scams, no pranks.

Tommy was sixteen and loud-mouthed and bright-eyed. Tommy is dead.

He can’t even get his body.

Sam stands on the edge of a curtain of lava, staring into the orange glow that hides a monster in a room that is now a child’s pre-made coffin, and he wonders if he is a monster himself.

***

“He’s fine.”

It’s the only thing to say. The only truth. The only possibility. Sure, the message is there, glaring up from his communicator in bright yellow letters, but it’s not real. It’s a joke of some kind, a trick. Something to fake everyone out. Maybe Sam’s in on it, too. Tommy must be going crazy in there, to think that this would actually be funny, but it sounds like something he would do.

“Tubbo,” Ranboo says, and then stops. Nothing else. His face is pale, though things like that are hard to tell, with him, considering that half his face is always pale. But he’s gone an ashy-grey sort of color, and it doesn’t look great.

“He’s not dead,” he says, and laughs a bit. “Tommy wouldn’t just die like that. That’d be ridiculous.”

Tommy’s death would never be so meek. Tommy’s death, when it happens, will be a spectacle, a dramatic showing with speeches and explosions and the sun rising at just the right time and haloing his hair, because TommyInnit deserves nothing less than the best death scene. Women wailing and the like. So Tommy is not dead, because if Tommy were dead, that would mean that he died alone, in the company of no one but his murderer, that he died scared, trapped in a small space with no way out, that he died without Tubbo by his side.

“Right,” Ranboo says, and his voice is doing a peculiar thing that Tubbo can’t quite work out. “Yeah, of course. Do you wanna—do you think we should go check it out? Go stop by the prison?”

“What for?” he asks. “Sam’s not going to let us in. He didn’t even when I built a dick on top of it.”

And here is another thing: Tommy can’t be dead because it was never supposed to be Tommy first. Tubbo has tried to live without him, and he found it very hard. So Tommy is not allowed to die before Tubbo does. That is the rule that he keeps locked up in his heart, because Tommy would be upset if he knew about it. But it’s a rule that Tubbo intends to follow, so Tommy can’t be dead.

That would be against the rules.

“Just to see?” Ranboo tries. Tubbo’s not sure why he’s being so insistent about this.

“Nah, we’ve got a hotel to build,” he says. “C’mon.”

Ranboo follows along behind him. His feet drag, like he’s reluctant. But Tubbo has long since given up on understanding why Ranboo does the things that he does.

***

He’s dead.

She should be glad about it. This is what she wanted. Tommy dead, punished for all the pain and suffering he’s caused everyone else. No longer able to start wars, to cause harm, to blaze his way through the server and leave a path of destruction in his wake.

Tommy is dead. She should be glad about it. She is glad about it. She’s even smiling.

There is a message from Jack. She doesn’t check it.

Tommy is dead, that blue-eyed, wide-grinned boy who followed along on his brother’s coattails. Tommy is dead, that fiery spirit crushed and his overbearing, fast-talking voice silent. Tommy is dead, that loyal friend, the protector and defender of all that he called his, the fighter, the scammer, the boy who loved with all of his heart and then some.

Tommy is dead. Dead, dead, dead. There is no coming back from dead. Dead is final. Dead is an ending. Dead means it’s all over. Tommy is over. Tommy is gone. Tommy will never grow old.

It’s what she wanted. She should be glad about it. She is glad about it. She’s even smiling.

Niki brings her hand to her mouth to check. It’s a smile. A smile, for sure.

Her fingers come away from her face wet.

***

It was an empty castle already, but it feels emptier now. The different between a possibility and its lack, they suppose.

Tommy was never supposed to die. They can’t fathom it, somehow. Can’t fathom that it’s real, that Tommy will never grace these halls again. They’d finally begun to fix things, begun to work toward redemption, well and truly. And now Tommy is gone.

Eret grips their communicator tightly in their hand.

“I’m sorry,” they murmur to no one at all.

It was never meant to be echoes in their head, over and over and over again, an apology that means nothing but so much scattered dust.

***

He closes his eyes. Breathes. In and out.

This happens. People die. They die, and they leave, and he’s left behind. That’s his life. That’s how it is.

It still hurts, when it happens. He’s still learning how to make it not hurt. Still learning how not to be angry, that people find it so easy to abandon him. That people find it so easy to go where he can’t follow. Wilbur first, now Tommy, and he doesn’t have anyone left, really.

But it’s fine. It’s alright. He can manage on his own. He always has.

Fundy decides to go to bed early.

***

He takes a moment to breathe. To process. To absorb.

To regret, for what might have been.

The voices in his head call for blood, as they always do, but he will not give them the satisfaction. Not this time. The blood he wants most is not readily accessible, and he will not put himself in the position of confronting the favor owed. Not now. Not like this. Not ever, if he can help it, though he knows that these sorts of things always take their due, always steal their pound of flesh.

“I know, chat,” he says. “You can all shut up, I know.”

It doesn’t appease them. He wasn’t expecting it to.

Tommy is dead. Tommy is dead, and their relationship with it. Any tentative attempts toward repairs have been left to rot, to burn on the funeral pyre. Theseus, fallen from the cliff at long last.

The story was always going to end this way. No one can stop the Fates from severing the string.

He stands with a groan. He is not built for this weather, for this cold, and it is a wonder that he keeps being drawn to it, time and time again. It is a balm, he thinks, but for what, he doesn’t know. For nothing, at the moment, as the voices threaten to crowd out all the rest. But he can’t deal with them right now.

Phil has his own house, now, and a bridge to connect the two. A bridge over still water, such that Tommy will never cross. He should not feel the way he does. Tommy betrayed him. Tommy used him. Tommy discarded him, so he tossed him aside in turn.

But once they were called brothers. Does it mean anything, in the end?

Phil is standing in the middle of the floor, ruined wings on full display. His face is blank, his communicator held loosely in one hand.

“Phil,” he says.

“I failed him,” Phil says. “I should’ve been there for him, and I wasn’t.”

Technoblade has no comfort for the truth.

But he has comfort for his friend, for his friend who is perhaps his father but is definitely family, so he stretches out his arms and catches Phil as he falls, falls and falls and screams, and it is good, he thinks, that the wings are already ruined, because Daedalus tried to catch his son and failed. It is good, he thinks, that the wings are already ruined, so he cannot try again and ruin the rest of himself, too.

***

He nudges the body with his foot.

“You shouldn’t have killed that cat,” he murmurs. The body does not reply, and he sighs.

Tommy’s face is beyond recognition. The blood coats his knuckles. He hopes that there’s enough water in the sink to wash it out before it sets. He hates it when the blood sets.

He didn’t mean to go as far as he did. That doesn’t mean much, in the end. This will work just as well.

He is a god, after all. He is a god, and he will have what he deserves, and more besides.

“Don’t worry, Tommy,” he says. “I’ll make a believer out of you yet.”

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #tommyinnit #awesamdude #dreamwastaken #tubbo #technoblade #philza #niki nihachu #eret #ranboo #fundy #dsmp spoilers #/rp #once again i speedran writing this so it's not edited #forgive any typos or weird wording i just have too many feelings #cat writes fic

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yandere-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Title: Karma.

Pairing: Yandere!Xiao/Reader (Genshin Impact).

Word Count: 2.1k.

TW: Imprisonment, Mentions of Kidnapping, Codependence, Possessive Mindsets, Non-Consensual Touching, Physical Abuse, Slight Victim-Blaming.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Xiao knew that this was what he deserved.

This, all of it, everything. Whatever the world had to throw at him, all the things he’d earned over centuries of bloodshed and death and guilt that grew more crippling with each passing day. He’d come to terms with that, and if he was being honest with himself, he might admit that he was growing numb to the pain, that despite his distaste, violence didn’t seem as utterly unpalatable as it used to. He wasn’t thankful for it, he didn’t want it, but he was resigned, apathetic, too used to it to care the way he used to, when fighting left him as battered as his enemies. He'd grown accustomed to it. He’d adapted.

He just wasn’t used to this. A new sort of discomfort. A different kind of pain.

He just wasn’t used to you being the source of his karmic suffering, whether or not you realized it was quite that poetic.

He’d earned it. He knew that. He’d earned every part of his current punishment – your glare, your locked jaw, the unadulterated loathing that emanated off of you in waves, unignorable from the moment he shrugged open the heavy, wooden door to his crowded room on the inn’s top floor. He’d managed to stave off the urge to use chains, ropes, anything more solid and more restraining than an idle threat and a locked door, but you were smart enough to stay balled up in the furthest corner, your knees pulled into your chest and your eyes on the floor, narrowed with an intensity he’d only ever seen in demons, moments before their deaths. It hurt him to see, the stance too defensive not to be learned, but it was better than the alternative. He’d caught you on the balcony, once or twice, leaning over the railing or admiring the view, and…

You could’ve slipped. You could’ve tried to jump. He shouldn’t have lost his temper, but you shouldn’t have been so reckless. It’d been dangerous, even you were still too naïve to see that.

Xiao grit his teeth, shaking his head as he forced himself to focus on the matter at-hand. You didn’t move as he approached, only shrinking further into yourself, becoming something small, something timid, a form of passive resistance you’ve perfected, in the weeks since you last put up a real fight. If he was feeling any less patient, he might’ve resorted to less honorable methods, throwing you over his shoulder and dragging you through his routine of self-indulgence despite your attempts to struggle against him. He’d tried it before, broken his own promises countless times, but it was almost never worth the way you’d cry afterwards, like he’d hurt you, like he’d done anything wrong. Like you could expect him to do anything less, when you were determined to be so stubborn.

So, instead, he tried talking. Talking was more peaceful. He didn’t like talking, but you did, and he was trying to be more considerate of what you liked. “I’m back.”

He waited, but there was no response. That was fine. He was fine. He couldn’t say he’d never given you a reason to ignore him. “You’re not reading,” He tried, again, fighting to keep his voice even. You tended to flinch, whenever he got too loud. “It’d be a better use of your time than sulking around, like this.”

You didn’t look at him, your voice muffled by your self-made haven. “You keep burning my books.”

Burning? That sounded like something he would do, as an act of precaution or anger or the same petty vengeance creatures so far beneath him were so prone to. It’d probably been one of the anthologies you were so fond of – folklore hiding under the guise of real history. Usually, he didn’t pay it much mind, the liberal retellings of events no living mortal could possibly be old enough to have witnessed, but he didn’t care for it when you found value in such trash. Stories about the Adepti were far too common in Liyue literature, and you’d always been the type to ask questions, to try to pry your way into subjects you could never hope to comprehend. It was better to eliminate the problem entirely. That was how he’d survived for so long, among humans -- terminating issues before they could arise.

But, you wouldn’t understand that. And even if you did, it wouldn’t do anything to heal the wound he’d already created.

He was beginning to think nothing he tried would ever be enough to mend your anger, not when you were so content to tear at the stitching yourself.

“I said I was sorry, didn’t I?” He wasn’t sure if he had, but you didn’t correct him, only squaring your shoulders, digging your nails into your legs, going even further to block him out, push him away, isolate yourself and leave him to suffer for your insubordination. Xiao rolled his eyes, scowling to himself, but whatever irritation he could summon was quickly replaced by his exhaustion, that perpetual desire to fall into your arms and have you welcome him willingly, lovingly, the way you used to before he decided he had to ruin it. He was tempted to touch you, to reach out, to cup your cheek or wrap an arm around you or draw you close by force, rather than natural attraction, but he thought better of it, crouching by your side, instead, letting his back hit the wall with a heavy thud.

When he opened his mouth, his tongue felt heavier, his throat hoarse. Like the weight of his conscious had found yet another way to make itself known. “You hate me.”

It was a fact, like the color of the sky or the scent of the air before a storm. It was true, both of you already knew that, but you were kind enough to hesitate, lifting you head just high enough to see him. For him to see you, tiny and terrified. A trembling rabbit that knew better than to hope for mercy from a hawk. “I do.”

It stung more than it had any right to. “And there’s nothing I can do make you stop hating me.”

You laughed, at that, the sound breathy and sardonic, melodic and unabashed, akin to bird songs and wind chimes and every other beautiful thing Xiao could think of, even in its most beaten down state. He wanted to kiss you, to hold you, to deafen himself because he knew nothing would ever be half as lovely as that laugh, but you were talking before he could act on the impulse. That was for the best, really. Acting on impulse was what got him into this, and he wasn’t eager to drive you away any further. “I don’t have any other choice,” You started, your tone light, your anger softened into something playful. The kind of tender rage only you were capable of. “If I could choose not to hate you, I would. You were my friend, and if I could find any way to justify your actions, you’d still be my friend. I don’t want to think of you as anything else.” You paused, letting out a deep breath, relaxing slightly. Xiao couldn’t bring himself to celebrate the small victory. “I don’t want to hate you, but I have to. You see that, right? After everything you’ve done to me, I have to hate you.”

He deserved this, and you deserved to say it. He deserved to have his heart broken, crushed and shattered in his chest, and you deserved to be the one to break it. “I don’t want you to hate me, either.” It felt more intimate than it should’ve, a confession rather than common knowledge. You might’ve teased him for it, months ago, smiled and said something about softening him up. Now, your frown only deepened. “But, I need to do this. Your safety comes first. If something ever happened to you, I’d—”

Even in his own mind, his logic faltered. ‘If something ever happened to you’, like he hadn’t already done more damage than any monster ever could. It might’ve been more redeemable if he was honest, if he admitted he was doing this for himself, because he wanted to, because just for an hour, a minute, a few key seconds, he was idiotic enough to think he deserved to have you, permanently, whether or not you wanted to have him.

But, he couldn’t say that. He didn’t know how. His mouth wouldn’t form the right words, so he was left to say the wrong ones, his tone taking a sharp turn towards hostile as he spoke. “The door isn’t locked. I’m not keeping you here. You can leave, if you’re really that miserable.”

You shifted, and Xiao’s throat went dry. He knew the answer, and yet, it still hurt to hear it in your voice, to know you were capable of inflicting such insufferable pain. “If I try to, will you let me?”

He wouldn’t. Of course he wouldn’t, he couldn’t even tell himself he’d try. He’d hunt you down to the ends of Teyvat if he had to, spend the rest of his immortality finding you and making sure you never had the chance to do something so short-sighted again. He could make the guilt more bearable, promising himself he’d take care of you, that since he couldn’t do away with the cage entirely, he’d do his best to make your prison a comfortable one, but you’d still be unhappy, you’d still hate him. He’d hate himself, too, but that might be the one aspect of your relationship he thought he could stand. If nothing else, Xiao didn’t make himself a stranger to self-loathing.

“I love you,” He mumbled, as if that counted for anything. “So much. More than you could possibly understand.”

“I know.” You were the one to bridge the gap, this time, a hesitant hand coming to rest over his. Something in his chest tightened, and for a moment, Xiao had to wonder if it was possible for a mortal to be so cruel. “But, I don’t love you. There’s nothing you can do to change that.”

You moved to pull away, fear fading into sympathetic pity, but Xiao didn’t want your pity, he didn’t want you to go back to hiding from him, trembling and screaming and treating him like some monster, a beast waiting to lash out. That’s what he was, really, but he didn’t have to admit it. He didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t want to let himself believe he’d fallen that far, and he didn’t want to let you treat him as if he had.

His grip was too tight, a whimper escaping your parted lips as he caught you by the wrist, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, not when it was so easy to jerk you towards him, forcing you out of your pathetic, laughable shelter and into his lap, his free arm latching onto your waist before you had a chance to pull away. The remorse was reflexive, immediate and instinctual, but for the first time, he allowed himself to ignore it, to bury it underneath the pleasant warmth of your skin against his and the bliss that came with being so close to you, with burying his face in your shoulder, with indulging every necessity he’d denied himself in the name of your comfort. Your hands were already on his chest, your entire body shaking as you made a weak attempt to push him away, but Xiao was stronger than you, and he loved you so much more than you could ever hate him. This was fair. That had to be enough to make it fair.

You shifted, the air catching in your lungs, but Xiao only bared his teeth, letting pointed fangs ghost over the side of your neck before he could regret scaring you. Maybe he wanted to scare you. Maybe it’d be better, if you were scared of him. At least then, he wouldn’t have to keep playing dutiful lover.

“Don’t move,” He snarled, and instantly, you went still. He could feel your heart racing in your chest, hear the cracked sob you failed to swallow, but he wanted this, he needed this. You’d get used to it, with time. You might even begin to appreciate the weeks he spent coddling you, once you were exposed to the alternative. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I need this. I need you to let me have this.” He paused, giving you just enough to time to stiffen, to realize he wasn’t letting go. To realize he was never letting go, even if that meant you only grew to hate him more. “I don’t care if you love me. I need you.”

Because he’d already gotten what he deserved. He’d already suffered, anguished, submitted himself fully to karma and reaped the consequences. The lesson had been drilled into him a thousand times, by his own hand another hundred. He already knew pain.

He’d already gotten what he deserved.

For once, he wanted to know what it would be like to get what he wanted, instead.

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babyybitchhh · 3 years

Text

Shigaraki x Reader 18+

Title: Crybaby

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 12,290

Warnings: I'll be honest and say I'm not entirely sure how to tag some of this so proceed with caution. Infantilization, forced age regression, mental age regression, non consensual regression, ageplay, mentions of baby bottles and pacifiers, coercion, general noncon and dubcon, diddling, vaginal fingering, involuntary urination, wetting, mention of forced third party bathing, diapers, penis in vagina sex, unprotected sex, creampie, excessive use of 'Tomu-nii', mention of sex slaves, a brief but explicitly violent death mention towards the start, overall very questionable decisions from both me and Shigaraki

A/N: I will not be taking any questions at this time, thank you.

( @tomurasprincess)

♥♥♥♥

There was a fine line between a gift and a burden.

A new video game, for example, is something people were generally happy to receive and there was no obligation to slave over it at all hours of the day, unless you wanted to. A puppy, on the other hand, came with a certain amount of responsibility that couldn’t be side lined until Tomura decided to deal with it. There was no save button, no coming back to it later. He had to be vigilant to some degree, mindful of the life that was now in his hands, and that wasn’t something he was accustomed to by any stretch of the imagination. He couldn’t stand it. Didn’t even really possess the vernacular needed to describe exactly how much it pissed him off that he was suddenly expected to take care of someone - something else.

It was bullshit.

Standing over your prone form sprawled out on the cluttered floor he thinks, not for the first time, about ending it right here and now. It would be easy, surely. One touch of his hand and you’d be gone. Disintegrated to mere dust and nothing more than a vague, unpleasant memory in the back of his mind. You deserved it by simple virtue of being such a damn inconvenience but, just as every other time, he hesitates.

Not because you don’t even realize the danger you’re in as you innocently kick your legs back and forth in the air, all your wide eyed, dopey attention locked on the tv screen. Tomura is not so soft as to consider a sneak attack you don’t even see coming an insult to his pride. He would’ve been showing you mercy, actually, because if he didn’t fear upsetting All for One so much he’d have preferred to wrap his hands around your scrawny little neck instead. Give you a good throttle or two. Squeeze until his knuckles were a stark white against your purpling blue skin. He could almost envision what you would look like, all bloated and full of blood from burst capillaries and reddened eyes rolling into the back of your skull.

His cock stirs in his pants and his hatred for you grows with it. He couldn’t stand you or what you represented, a sudden addition to his life that he never asked for but couldn’t get rid of, and the fact he was getting stiff from his morbid fantasies was certainly your fault too. Everything was your fault. Right down to the most minor of inconveniences, you were to blame - even if it happened before you were dropped into his lap with all the to-do of a posh, overly indulgent birthday present. It was you. You, you, you, you you you youyouyouyouyou -

“Tomu-nii?”

With a jolt, he snaps out of it. The haze lifts and his blown out eyes focus in on your tubby little face, now turned over your shoulder to glance back at him. Tomura isn’t sure when you realized he was looming over you like some horrible, sickly wraith and he knows even less how it is that you show no fear towards him. Were you really so stupid that you couldn’t sense his desire to not only kill you but make you suffer? So blind that you didn’t see the way his bony hands fisted at his sides with a purpose and not in idle reflex?

No. It wasn’t that you were as unintelligent as a brain dead sheep happily trotting off to slaughter. Rather, it’s because that was what All for One had designed you to be.

Tomura wouldn’t claim to understand how, exactly, his mentor had gotten these results but he knows enough to recognize the signs. You’d been stripped of everything in a way that far exceeded mere surface level nudity. All for One had gone even deeper than that, past flesh and bone and right into the heart of what made you you. The brain.

He had no doubt that a quirk had been used, the specifics of which he couldn’t even begin to fathom, but the tinkering and rewiring had done its job exceedingly well, in fact. While your body was that of a young adult woman, early to mid 20’s if he had to wager a guess, your mind was something like that of a toddlers. You could speak just fine but the enunciation was sloppy, your words childish and limited to small, easily communicable sentences. You picked up on things surprisingly fast, perhaps even a little too well if the way he’d heard you let out a soft, half hearted ‘fuck’ earlier was anything to go by. But you slipped up just as easily and he was getting real tired of making sure you went and sat on the toilet instead of pissing all over his (no doubt already smelly) carpet. Living in his own mess was one thing. Living in someone else’s was another matter entirely.

Nothing about this was in error, though. You were exactly what All for One intended for you to be - little more than an animal for him to look after but with arguably higher stakes involved - and he’d had enough. It’d only been a single day, a full 24 hours since you were dropped into his room, and he was already at the end of his patience.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like that stupid cartoon I put on for you?”

You actually had the audacity to pout at him, jutting your lower lip out and puffing your cheeks as if that was supposed to make him feel anything other than an even stronger urge to take you out of this world. “S’not that. Mm’ just bored. You’re no fun.”

Tomura very nearly lunges at you with outstretched hands, All for One be damned, but your next words stop him in his tracks.

“I thought maybe you were coming to play with me.”

Play with you? He would’ve laughed if only he could find even a sliver of real humor in this situation. This was a joke, if not because of the absurdity of it all then at least because he wanted to play with you alright. He wanted to play a game that started with you screaming in shrill terror and ended with a chilly body laid out on his bedroom floor. That sounded like more fun than a barrel of kittens.

He stills himself, though, and snobbishly peers at you down the length of his nose. “I don’t play games with brats. Sorry.”

That only makes you pout even more. “Meanie.”

“Watch your fucking cartoon,” Tomura grits out through gnashing, angry teeth, unreasonably irritated by your persistent refusal to cooperate. “Before I make you.”

He isn’t even really sure if that threat makes any sense at this point, so thrown off by your mere presence in what should’ve been his space that he can barely make heads or tails of his own thoughts anymore. But the dramatic way you squawk in displeasure and throw yourself out flat on the floor placates him somewhat. You were easy to rile up, and he would have been a boldfaced liar if he’d said he didn’t get a kick out of that. Tomura had never felt quite so cruel, so much like an adolescent bully looking to make his problems someone else’s as when he was working you up into a proper fit.

It was easily the most enjoyable aspect of this arrangement so far, and he watches with nothing short of smug satisfaction as you pound your hands on the floor in pent up frustration. It was laughably easy to picture what they’d look like, well groomed after a manicure and with a fresh coat of polish on the nails. You looked like you’d probably been the sort of woman who would go with reds. Fierce and bold, as much a statement as your pretty face, which was currently scrunched up and pressed tight against the carpet in front of his tv. Those same hands were plain and unadorned now, squeezed into tight little fists that were about as harmless as they could get. Tomura probably would’ve considered a turtle more of a pressing threat than you right now.

“Crybaby.” He spits the word out like it’s poison. “Does that make you feel better? Huh? Throwing a tantrum just because you’re not getting your way?”

“Mm’ not a crybaby!” You scream into the carpet. The contrast between your plushy figure and your behavior is disturbing on some very real, intrinsic level and that only seems to add fuel to his fire.

“Hah! That’s funny. You certainly look like one, you know that? What would you even think of yourself if you were in your right mind, I wonder.”

“Mm’ not!” Your incessant screeching rises in pitch and Tomura is almost positive you aren’t even really hearing him anymore, but he decides he doesn’t care.

“Embarrassing. Maybe I should have Kurogiri bring me a bottle since you want to act like a baby so much. Or would you like a pacifier instead? Hmm? Would that make you feel better, princess?”

“Nooooo!”

Your feet start kicking the air again, violently rather than in placid distraction, and the motion draws Tomura’s gaze to the seat of your onesie. Pink and humiliatingly infantile for a grown woman to be wearing, he’d looked at it with nothing short of contempt up until now. But the (no doubt exhausting) flex of your legs bunches the loose cotton, making it gather around your upturned ass and in turn emphasizes the convenient button flap across the back. Now that he’s actually looking at it, he’s almost positive it was wide enough to expose your entire rear to the world with little more than a quick snap of his fingers. Maybe even wide enough to expose other things too …

Tomura jolts with all the force of a sudden electric shock when you cry out his name or, rather, the ridiculous moniker you’d given him. He’d like to know who’d planted that particular seed in your head - if it was All for One’s idea of a twisted joke or if Kurogiri had really thought being called niichan by a woman who may or may not actually be older than him would make Tomura feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It doesn’t exactly matter now, though, because the wet quality of your voice makes his cock spring up in his pants. He’s mildly horrified with himself, far more comfortable with his earlier fantasies of killing you, but there’s no helping it anymore. Not when you say his name like that. Not when the tears he’d initially thought were crocodilian at best were so thick and heavy in your throat that the syllables come out garbled and almost incomprehensible.

He’s not sure what he intends to do, but he shuffles closer.

You’ve started to tire out now and the kicking slows before stopping all together. He watches your ankles cross over one another in the air, as if you were trying to self soothe on some level by physically keeping yourself together, but it doesn’t seem to do much in the way of good. Your shoulders were still trembling with the lingering traces of your fit, and he can hear you mewling into the abrasive carpet like a wounded animal. It was clear that you were hurting because of him - and not just as a result of his teasing. After the complete and utter deconstruction of your mind, you were probably scared without even really knowing why. Confused, but too lost in the quirk induced stupor that had left you in this sorry state to seek out answers.

He hadn’t bothered to test this theory yet, but Tomura would have been willing to bet good money that All for One left you with very little inside that thick skull of yours. It just made sense, after all. For what good was a doll with memories of her past life? What would he have possibly gotten out of playing house with someone who fought him every step of the way, either out of embarrassment or repulsion towards him as a person?

No. You were a blank slate in the strictest sense. His to mold however he deemed fit and with no recollection of who you were, who you’d been or even who you’d wanted to be, he was free to do whatever he damn well pleased.

There was still raging contempt for you burning within his chest, certainly. You were an annoying, unnecessary burden on him and there was no getting around the fact that he still wanted you gone. But the spark igniting his gut is even stronger and, for better or worse, it momentarily overrides his better judgement.

So he sinks down onto his knees, directly behind you, and reaches out to tentatively palm the swell of your ass. Pinky held away, so as not to disintegrate you, which surprises him somewhat given how vivid his fantasies of killing you had been. He doesn’t get to linger on that for very long though, because you grow still at his touch and your pathetic sniveling quiets to a soft, almost hopeful sniffle. Tomura bites back a crude snort, just barely managing to catch himself before he backpedals and hisses another insult at you. He could probably take what he wanted with any given method, he didn’t have to be nice about it, but somehow the alternative just felt wrong. Physically you were an adult, but with the mental state of a child it felt a bit like taking advantage of an innocent and he wasn’t a complete monster.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, the word foreign on his tongue. “I shouldn’t have been so mean. Will you forgive me?”

You squirm and push your face further into the carpet. “Mhm.”

He doesn’t smile. But he does take that as an incentive to push forward, and he starts caressing your backside with slow, cautious circles. “Do you really want me to play with you that bad?”

“Mhm.”

Hesitating, Tomura considers his next words very carefully. “Fine. I’ll play with you. But I get to choose the game.”

You don’t immediately respond and he starts to wonder if he’d made a mistake. Overestimated his ability to be diplomatic and conscientious - which wouldn’t exactly have come as a surprise. But then you shift on the floor, tension draining from your body as you turn your head so you aren’t suffocating in the carpet anymore. “Okay.”

His brows lift in surprise only to then knit together. It was that easy? He’s not so sure he trusts it but, dropping his gaze back down to your ass, he gives the doughy soft flesh an experimental squeeze. Your only response is a soft, faltering sigh that seems to help you relax more. This, too, seems a little too good to be true but he keeps going anyway.

When a few minutes of kneading your defenseless backside does nothing to upset you, Tomura starts to get bolder. He slowly brings his opposite hand forward and latches onto the other cheek with four fingers, massaging both sides in tandem. He’d had the unfortunate luck of seeing your bare ass late the previous evening, after you’d emptied your bladder all over the blanket he’d tossed you to sleep on which had resulted in an aggressively administered bath for you and a frustrated headache for him. He hadn’t paid too much attention at the time, far too angry to be horny, but he knew enough to realize that you were unexpectedly voluptuous under that onesie.

The garment itself was so oversized it hid even the smallest hint of the womanly figure underneath. He probably would’ve forgotten all about it, pushed to the back of his mind in favor of more pressing matters (like getting rid of you) but now that he’s got his hands on your butt it’s all he can think about. The way your full tits jiggled when he’d non too gently manhandled you into the tub. The frustratingly cute lower belly pouch that bulged when you sat down, crying, on the porcelain surface. The way your thighs molded to whatever position he’d yanked them in so he could hose you off like a filthy stray. He’d actively avoided looking at what was between your legs, in fear of what he’d see as much as stubborn refusal, but looking back on it now he isn’t sure how he hadn’t given in to temptation.

Now, however, he was suddenly more interested than ever in finding out what your pussy looked like and, hooking his long index fingers into the flap, he starts to unlatch it one button at a time.

You make no move to stop him. Don’t even protest or question what he’s doing. It’s almost as if just having his attention on you is enough, and Tomura’s mouth pulls back in a sneer at the mere thought. You were so damn stupid for trusting him like this, completely oblivious or uncaring about what his intentions were. He could be as violent with you as he wanted. He could erase you from this existence with the briefest touch. But you just lay there, your shoulders slowly rising and falling with each even breath you draw, and he can’t decide if that feeling clawing at the back of his throat is hatred or guilt.

But there’s no real reason to stop now, so he carefully peels back the flap of fabric once he’s got it completely unfastened. Bare skin greets him, a perfectly exposed strip of swelling flesh that seems all the more enticing with pink cotton framing it so nicely. He pauses long enough to lick his dry, cracked lips. The weight of his stiff cock strains against the inside of his zipper, twitching eagerly when he reaches out to hesitantly touch your back side again.

The sensation of a real, living person under his fingertips makes his breath come a little faster. Still, you don’t move though and he picks up right where he left off, roughly groping your ass cheeks with barely contained excitement until he gets so vigorous that you whimper.

“Shh. I’ll try not to be so rough.” Tomura shushes you, throaty and barely more than a murmur.

You settle back into place, thankfully, and he takes that chance to spread your cheeks open. He gets a brief glimpse of the puckered hole hidden inside, white hot static racing straight to his groin, and he lets out a rumbling groan. His fingers squeeze into flesh again and he pulls, baring you entirely to his voracious eyes. The tight muscle twitches, winking at him, and his attention drops to the smallest satiny peak of your slit. He can just barely see it, mostly hidden behind the pooling fabric bunched under the swell of your ass, but it’s more than enough to make him feel dizzy.

“Shit,” he sounds winded even to his own ears. “You’ve got such a nice body.”

To his surprise, you actually perk up at that. “Really?”

Tomura almost snaps at you on impulse, so irritated by the sound of your voice that he nearly forgets what he’s trying to do. Quelling himself, though, he tugs at the bottom half of your onesie until he can see the plushy soft lips of your pussy. You look so inviting, so warm and real he can hardly even stand it.

“Really.” He croaks. “How old are you again?”

You seem to think about that. “Mm, I dunno’!”

He frowns. Contemplates that for a long beat. But the coarse hair curling around your slit seems answer enough, for him at least. You weren’t actually a child. You just sounded like one, acted like one, dressed like one. That wasn’t what was getting him so painfully hard though. It was the fact you were a woman, physically, and he’d never gotten to see one up close and personal like this before. Why hadn’t All for One just given him a proper sex slave instead of one that threw tantrums and cried at the drop of a dime? Was this really what his mentor had intended for him to do with you?

“Tomu-nii?”

Drawing a sharp breath, he brings his attention up to bark at you to be quiet but the words catch when he finds you looking at him over your shoulder. He can feel his cheeks starting to warm, suddenly embarrassed.

“What?”

“Why’re you looking at me like that?”

He flounders for a moment. Then, awkwardly clearing his throat, he decides to fall back on his original excuse. “This is the game I mentioned earlier. You wanted to play, right?”

You nod your head, but you don’t look entirely certain about that. “I do but … aren’t games s’posed to be fun? This is boring!”

His mouth presses into a thin line. It hadn’t occurred to him that you might not be content to just idly sit by while he molested your slutty little body, but if it was fun you wanted then he could certainly give you that. “This was just the warm up. Roll over and I’ll show you how to play.”

The way your eyes light up almost makes him regret this decision. It’s too late though, you’re already twisting over on to your back with your elbows braced on the carpet so you can stare up at him. Stupid and expectant.

He clicks his tongue.

Reaching out to grab your wide set hips with only eight of his fingers, he inelegantly drags you closer so that you were nicely slotted between his knees. Your legs curl up as you regard him with nothing short of intense curiosity, lips parting in a silent ‘o’ that very nearly sends him over the edge. You were too pretty for your own good. Much too beautiful to be wearing a pink onesie and acting like a baby. This was such a waste, and he almost feels bad for what All for One did to you.

But he shrugs it off, forcefully, and his delicately poised hands descend on your zipper. Zrrrrrt, straight down the length of your body. It stops directly above your crotch and he reaches up to reverently push the cotton out to the sides and expose the rest of you.

Your tits were even better than he’d initially thought. They were full and heavy, dotted with the most perfect little buds for nipples. Soft and smooth. Tomura’s mouth waters in anticipation and he doesn’t realize how roughly he’s jerking your arms out of the sleeves until you wail dramatically that it hurts.

He’d like to tell you what really hurts is his cock, unbearably hard and trapped inside his pants, but he refrains. Instead, he huffs out an insincere apology and keeps on yanking. He can’t get you undressed fast enough, mesmerized by the way your breasts jiggle and bounce every time he pulls on you. There’s something inherently wrong about this, he knows. It’s so damn obvious you’re not right in the head, that you aren’t of sound enough mind to even understand what he’s doing to you, but he can’t bring himself to stop. Not when you were so willing and pliant under his shaking hands.

Finally managing to wrest the blasted onesie off your kicking feet, Tomura tosses it off to the side and he eagerly sets his sights on your naked body. You should have looked seductive and coy, spread out in front of him with a devious smile curling artfully painted lips as you invite him to have his way with you. Instead, you fitfully squirm, neither seductive nor shy. It’s clear that you have no sense of shame, your artificially infantile brain completely void of the concept and even less aware of how inappropriate any of this was. You just keep looking at him, waiting for the explanation he’d promised to give you.

Oh. That’s right. The game he kept talking about. Perhaps he could still salvage this after all.

“The rules are simple,” he says slowly, scrambling to put together a decent excuse to keep going. “I’ll touch you for a little bit and if I can make you feel good then I win. After that, it’ll be your turn. If you make me feel good, you’ll win. Understand?”

Your expression pinches in confusion. “So we both win?”

“Only if we make each other feel good. What’s wrong? You don’t want to play with me anymore?”

Much to his relief, you quickly bob your head. “I do! Please play with me, Tomu-nii!”

The way his cock jolts at that makes his entire body ache. It’s much too late to turn back now, he was well past the point of salvation, and he haltingly drags his attention down to your chest. Your petite nipples had stiffened in the cool air but it’s as if you don’t even notice. Wasn’t that something a grown woman would be conscious of? He thinks so, or at least he’s pretty sure it is. Apparently it isn’t the sort of thing a dumb baby brain even registers, though, and he reaches out to curiously flick at one.

You gasp, eyes widening slightly. Misplaced hope sears his veins and he watches you intently, holding his breath, but you don’t seem to understand what it is you’re feeling. Your brows furrow as you glance down at yourself and bring a hand up to cover your nipple.

“Oww …”

That certainly wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. Or at least it wasn’t the sort of reaction Pornhub had taught him to expect, but it was still something.

“Baby.” He grumbles, reaching for the opposite tit.

“Mm’not!”

“Are too. Didn’t that feel good?”

“No!”

“Then you’re winning, aren’t you?”

Confusion marches across your face for a moment before understanding dawns. You look quite pleased now as you track the movement of his hand as he carefully pinches your puckered nipple between thumb and forefinger, gently rolling it between the pads. He doesn’t get an immediate reaction out of you but the longer he does it the more your lips start to purse. It’s as if you were holding back, determined not to show him that you might be enjoying it and risk losing the game, but it’s enough to embolden him.

His ministrations pick up and he gives your delicate little teat a mild twist. There’s no malice or cruelty behind the action. He just wants to see what you’ll do. And you don’t disappoint, the way you jump and your mouth flies open as if to squawk making his stomach clench with something perverse. You catch yourself at the last second though, teeth clacking together as your gaze flits up at him to see if he’s looking.

He is, of course, and you forcibly swallow the sound you’d almost let out. Tomura is a bit disappointed, sure. He’d wanted to hear how pretty you’d moan for him but there were still plenty of other chances for him to coerce at least one out of you.

Hunching over your prone body, he brings his other hand up to latch onto the opposite nipple, the one he’d previously flicked. You wince at the contact but make no move to stop him, biting down on your lower lip to keep quiet as you watch him play with your fat tits in petulant silence. It was ass backwards in so many ways. He’d thought, despite everything, his first time with a girl would be somewhat normal. Maybe not picture perfect or all that good when everything was said and done, but at least relatively mundane. This was the farthest thing from that though. He couldn’t conceive of a more wildly abnormal scenario even if he’d tried, nor did he recall ever seeing any porn with this hyper specific set up. But there was still some sick, twisted part of him that was deriving pleasure from this decidedly unorthodox encounter with the opposite sex, and that feeling only grows exponentially the more he keeps going.

Kneading, pinching, squeezing, tugging. He doesn’t let up until your nipples are flushed dark and straining hard, the glistening hint of tears at the corners of your eyes telling him beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was getting somewhere. The urge to call you a crybaby swells in his chest again but he doesn’t want to risk another tantrum. He wasn’t so sure his cock could handle it, particularly not when he’d positioned himself over you in such a way that one solid kick would put him out of commission for the foreseeable future. No, this was a delicate situation that required the utmost care on his part and, gathering his nerves, he swoops down to cover one of the stiff buds with his mouth.

The heated gasp that bursts out of you in a great woosh has him groaning into the meaty swell of your tit. You shudder underneath him, involuntarily twitching as he traces your areola with the tip of his tongue and laves it in warm, wet attention. He can tell that you’re not sure what to do so he waits with bated breath, reveling in the fleshy nub pinched between his lips. There was no reason for him not to squeeze every last drop of enjoyment he could get out of this while he could, after all - but then your hands find his hair, threading into wavy locks, and he throbs for you.

“Tomu-nii …”

He practically sinks into you, damn near suffocating himself in the plushy swell of your breast. His mouth opens wide and sucks more of you past his lips, suckling enthusiastically just like the infant you were programmed to be. This particular role reversal doesn’t even seem to register in your mind though and he seethes when you tug at his hair, trying to pull him off.

“St-aaahp …. I don’t like it!”

Tomura comes up off you with a wet gasp. “Bullshit.” He practically growls, narrowing his eyes at your dopey, flustered expression.

“It’s true! I don’t!”

“Oh? Should we check then?”

Your face scrunches and you draw a breath to question him, but he doesn’t give you the chance. Going back up on his knees, he plants one hand against the meat of your inner thigh and shoves it wide. His other darts between your legs before you can react, spindly digits finding your bare cunt and prodding at your folds with rough fingertips. You jolt at the contact but it’s too late. He barely has to touch you to feel the slick oozing out of you and he lets loose a harsh bark of laughter.

“My ass. You’re fucking soaked. You shouldn’t lie, you know.”

“I didn’t!” You gasp, clearly offended by the insinuation. “You’re just a fucking meanie!”

That gives him pause.

Glancing up at your face, Tomura regards you carefully as he tries to figure out his next move. On one hand it was his own fault for saying that word around you so much and it’s not like it was any of his business what you did or didn’t say, but on the other … there was something uncomfortable about hearing that come out of your mouth with such a childish inflection. It lacked any and all bite, not even a hint of impotent aggression to be found. You were just parroting him, that’s all, but for whatever reason he didn’t really appreciate it.

“Don’t say that.” He huffs, turning his attention back to your pussy.

Tomura had wanted to leave it at that, but of course you have to fight him every step of the way.

“Why not?” You ask rather flippantly.

“Because i said so. If you want to get smart, be my guest. I know how to handle bratty little girls like you.”

He’s a bit surprised when that actually shuts you up. Apparently, he was starting to get the hang of this but he still has to sneak a quick peek at you just to make sure. The fact you actually look contemplative, as if you were turning that over in your empty head, almost makes him laugh.

“Do you still want to play?” God, he sorely hoped you did.

You hesitate though, unwilling to give your acquiescence just like that. “When is it my turn?” You ask warily.

“Soon. I’ve got one more chance to make you feel good and then you can try.”

“Mmm … okay. But I’m not gonna’ lose!”

He’s almost certain you would have already lost if you weren’t such a petulant little thing, but he keeps that to himself. Instead, he once again turns his attention to the spot between your legs. Your puffy slit was noticeably wet, the faint sheen of fluid glistening slightly in the overhead light, and he takes a moment to gently part the curls there. Just as he’d thought. Damp to the touch and only getting wetter. He really was going to have to talk to you about lying especially since, in this particular context, you were cheating. This was a far cry from his video games but that didn’t make it any less annoying.

Swallowing his reprimand for the time being, though, Tomura carefully presses two fingers into the doughy softness of your labia and spreads them apart. He can see now that you were practically drenched in slick arousal, thin threads of discharge stretching across your petal soft folds before snapping. He gulps down his nerves. You really did have the prettiest pussy he’d ever seen and the fact it was all his for the taking very nearly had him creaming in his pants right then and there. It was almost obscene how bad he wanted to fuck your tampered brains out but he didn’t want to scare you into noncompliance. He wasn’t going to fight for this if he didn’t have to.

Slowly, so as not to startle you, he brings his other hand close and prods at where he thinks your clit should be. He’d certainly seen them in enough triple X videos to have some idea of where to look, but when all you do is let out a soft sigh he knows he’s mistaken.

His teeth gnash in high strung irritation as he walks his finger lower and then higher, feeling a bit like a blind fool searching for buried treasure. There were so many fleshy ridges and folds that he couldn’t pinpoint the right spot from memory alone, so he has to take his time feeling around instead. He thinks he’s found it for a split second when you shift underneath him, but then he realizes you were simply getting fussy - no doubt bored with all his incessant pawing - and that only angers him further. It shouldn’t have been this damn hard to find!

Impatient now, Tomura roughly swipes his finger up the length of your slit and surprise washes over him when you jolt as if he’d electrocuted you. Your head comes up off the rug and you stare at him, wide eyed, but it was much too late. He’d finally gotten the reaction out of you that he’d been hoping for, and he leans into it with nothing short of devilish delight.

Knowing precisely where to look helps a great deal and it immediately occurs to him that the reason he’d struggled so much is because your clit was still hidden behind its protective hood. But he’s got the advantage now, and he ever so carefully pinches at satiny soft skin until he can ease it back and expose the sensitive little bud nestled inside. You whimper slightly as he does it, squirming awkwardly on your back as if you could instinctively sense that you might be in a bit of trouble now. It was kind of cute, if he was being totally honest.

“I don’t think I like this game …”

“You will. Trust me.”

Clearly not believing him, you start to open your mouth to complain but he stops you cold with a quick flick of his finger. Your engorged clit jostles against the indelicate contact and you blurt out such a startled sound that he actually glances up to make sure you’re okay. Unsurprisingly, you look a little more flustered now and the panic edging your expression is almost enough to make him reconsider this.

Almost, but not quite.

“What’s the matter?” He goads, dropping his gaze back down to your pussy again. “I thought you didn’t like it.”

“I … I don’t …”

“Really? I’m not sure I believe that.”

He does it again, gentler this time. Just a brief tap against the meaty little nub, but it’s enough to make you twitch and try to close your legs from him. Tomura won’t let you back out so easily though and he shifts even closer so he can wedge himself between your thighs to keep them spread. You issue a frustrated, huffy sound that he could only describe as babyish as you try to push up on your elbows, no doubt intending to scuttle away from him. He had to give you credit for being so hard headed even in this infantile state but he was far too invested to quit now.

Letting up his hold on your labia, Tomura directs his fingers lower and wedges three of them into your slit. You freeze, momentarily stunned, and he takes that split second opportunity to feel around for your entrance. It’s not hard to find. Much easier than your clit, at any rate, and he wastes no time wriggling a long digit up inside your body. The penetration is smooth, your guts such a slippery mess that it almost startles him.

You really were a liar.

He suddenly realizes he’s panting. At the same time, he realizes that you don’t appear to be breathing at all. Your expression is about as dumbfounded as it could be, and he dully watches the way you sway in your half upright position. Shellshocked would probably be an appropriate descriptor, and he wets his lips in anticipation.

“Well? Do you like it?”

Your legs flex around his arms and you shake your head. “Nuh … no …”

“If you don’t stop lying to me,” he grumbles. “I’m going to get mad.”

You stiffen, clearly drawing yourself up to challenge that statement just like he’d known you would. It was embarrassing how predictable you could be.

He’s had just about enough of this back and forth though, and he roughly curls his finger upward in search of the spot that would finally shut you up for good. But his efforts only make you more fussy and his patience quickly unravels when you try to twist away from him, wailing in displeasure. He hated that sound and, if you weren’t careful, he’d go right back to hating you too

Grunting, Tomura abandons your clit in favor of latching his hand onto the swell of your thigh and he digs his blunt nails in to keep you still. You actually have the audacity to kick out at him but he puts a stop to that quickly enough by shoving a second finger into your sticky cunt. Just like the first time, it makes you hesitate and he watches your warbling mouth drop open in what he thinks might be pleasure. It’s frustratingly hard to tell with you but, having no other choice, he decides to take it at face value.

Your pussy clicks loudly when he starts pumping into you straight down to the knuckle, the wet squelch almost deafening in his ears. It’s unreasonably hot though, his mind running a mile a minute as he tries to commit every little detail to memory. The way your face screws up with a stuttering gasp, the way you squeeze your eyes shut and try to brace against the pressure of his digits driving into you again and again. The way you moan, even when you try not to, is particularly enticing, especially since it’s just as pretty as he’d hoped it would be. The way your legs shake and you threaten to double over, the way he can see you clutching the carpet in a death grip, the way you just seem to get even wetter for him. There was too much to take in all at once but it was also far too erotic to look away from. He really was going to cream his pants at this rate.

Somehow, your honest reaction appears to make up for all the trouble you’d given him up until now and Tomura can feel the wet spot bleeding through his boxer briefs start to grow. He was positive he’d never been harder in all his life. Animalistic and practically slobbering like a rabid dog, he hunches further over your quaking body and pistons into your cunt so vigorously his arm starts to ache. You were wailing for him to stop, crying out for Tomu-nii, Tomu-nii, Tomu-nii, but he doesn’t even slow down. He can’t.

Your cunt just keeps sucking him in deeper on every plunge, gummy walls pulsating around his no doubt pruning fingers so enthusiastically that he’s sure you’re going to cum. He can practically taste it. Tomura wasn't going to stop until you did and, realizing he doesn’t have to hold onto you any longer, he reaches out to roughly shove you down on your back again.

“Are you going to cream for me, princess? Huh?” He grits out through savagely bared teeth. “Is that what you’re going to do?”

“No! Please, Tomu-nii … it hurts!”

Even in the heat of the moment he can’t stop himself from clicking his tongue in irritation. “No it doesn’t, you big baby. You love this. I know you do. I can see it written all over your stupid, pretty face. Go on. Tell me exactly how good you feel. Do it!”

Wailing, you peer up at him through heavy lashes with a look so imploring it very nearly gives him pause. “I - I can’t! I’m … Tomu-nii, I’m gonna’ … I’m gonna’ pee!”

“No you aren’t. That just means your clo - -“

Tomura cuts himself off when you do exactly that. He’s almost too stunned to react and all he can do is watch as the steady stream of urine bursts out of you before dribbling down his wrist to soak into the carpet underneath. It’s only now, when you’re pissing all over yourself as well as him, that he finally has the decency to slow his pumping to a staggered halt. For a fleeting moment he actually considers the notion of keeping at it. There wasn’t much else you could do to ruin this for him, after all, but one look at your expression immediately quashes that idea.

He’d be lucky if all he could manage was to stop you from dissolving into ugly, heaving sobs, let alone worry about getting himself off. Dammit. You really were nothing but a pain in his ass.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” He deadpans, slowly withdrawing his fingers from your cunt now that he was thoroughly coated in warm, smelly piss. “To be honest I was kind of tired of that rug anyway. And these clothes, too.”

You hiccup so sadly that what little bit of anger had sparked inside him immediately dies out. He couldn’t even be mad at you for this no matter how much he may have wanted to blame you for everything. You’d tried to warn him.

“T- Tomu-nii … mm’sorry …”

Tomura sighs through his nose, hard enough to make the split end tips of his hair shift. “Don't be. That was my fault. Just - let me find something to clean us up with.”

“Do I have to take another bath?” You ask so meekly he almost misses it.

Pausing halfway through the motion of rising to his feet, he glances down at you again. It occurs to him quickly enough that it wasn’t the accident you were so upset about but, rather, the looming possibility of another aggressively meted out trip to the bathroom. Interesting. He’d almost think he was mistaken, it had only happened once, after all, but the way your lower lip wobbles tells him everything he needs to know. Apparently you were more scared of him than you’d let on.

“No, not right now. I think I can get you clean enough with a wet rag or something. You’ll have to take one later but,” Tomura scoffs, hating that he was actually trying to be nice after you’d peed all over him. “I’ll try not to be so rough next time. You just made me mad last night, that’s all.”

You nod slowly, looking like you don’t quite believe that, but still too naively trusting to press the matter. “Okay.”

Nodding once, Tomura climbs to his feet. The inner seam of his pants from the knee down is absolutely soaked and he makes it only three steps before deciding he didn’t like them all that much to begin with. Dropping his hand to the rough denim, he brushes all five fingers across the thigh and they dissolve into nothing without a second thought to the matter. He can faintly hear you ooohing behind him but there were much more important things to worry about than how easily impressed you were.

His half flagged cock throbs hopefully inside his boxer briefs and he reaches down to delicately adjust himself. God, he’d be aching for the next week thanks to your uncontrollable bladder.

An idea pops into his head with that thought. You weren’t the only thing he’d been saddled with yesterday, and he turns to regard the thick gym bag he’d previously thrown against the far wall in anger. It’s where he’d gotten your pink onesie after you’d similarly soiled the first pair of clothes you’d been wearing. He hadn’t bothered to look through all of its contents just yet, but he felt relatively confident he’d find what he wanted in there.

Circling back around, Tomura squats in front of the bag and yanks it open. He can feel your eyes watching him from your spot on the floor but he pays it no mind. Digging inside, he pulls out a few more articles of clothing, far too cutesy for his tastes, and then a book on child care that he knows for certain was put there in jest. Over his shoulder it gets chucked, and he digs deeper. Down at the very bottom he finds exactly what he’d been looking for.

But in addition to the baby wipes there are two other items that catch his attention. He outright balks at the very notion - however, realistically speaking, it could very well be the answer to his problems. At least the most pressing one, anyway.

The idea that All for One knew he’d likely run into this issue but still decided to dump you on him anyway bothers Tomura a great deal and he frowns even as he looks over the packaging. Diapers and pull ups. What was the difference? He’s not so sure there is one, and he feels almost certain that they serve the same purpose. But further inspection proves him wrong. One was for a total lack of control and the other was for the potty training stage, so not as thick or absorbent. That’s what the packing said but, at any rate, they definitely weren't the plain adult brands he was looking at here.

These were bright and colorful, and he can’t help but cringe at the thought of putting you in either of them. But he was still left with a very real concern that he simply couldn’t overlook. The fact he even had to make this decision at all was ridiculous but he couldn’t very well have you pissing on every available surface in his room. And given your track record of absolutely drenching whatever you happened to be sitting on at the time …

Hesitantly, Tomura takes out the diapers and shuffles towards his unkempt bed. The print on the back wasn't particularly clear about what to do with them. He’d probably have to look up a tutorial later, when he wasn’t feeling quite so downtrodden and his balls weren’t aching, though that would certainly put him on a few watch lists. Not that it really mattered.

He sighs and tosses the package on top of his sheets before tearing into the baby wipes. Taking his time, he methodically scrubs his wrist and his legs clean while he contemplates his next move. It wasn’t going to be pretty. It certainly wasn’t going to be sexy. It was still probably the lesser of two evils, though. Far be it that he wanted to go this route but did he really even have any other choice at this point?

“Tomu-nii …”

Your soft whining draws him back to reality and, abruptly realizing you’ve been sitting in your own piss this entire time, he turns to look back at you. For a split second, he seriously considers just killing you right then and there. It would save him a lot of trouble and you wouldn’t even realize what was coming. You were so stupid you’d probably think he was going in for a hug or something asinine like that. He’d be doing you a favor, really, because as far as he was concerned, death was certainly preferable to wearing diapers but … the urge fizzles out almost as quickly as it had appeared. He wasn’t going to let you slip out of his hold until after he’d gotten to bury himself in that tight, pretty little pussy of yours.

Decision made, Tomura makes his way over to the carpet again. You look cold, which doesn’t exactly come as a surprise, and he bends down to grab the meat of your upper arms so he can drag you up to your feet. “Come on. I think I’ve got a solution.”

Your brows furrow slightly. “Salution?”

“Close enough.”

Steering you over to the bed, he makes you bend over the mattress so he can take a baby wipe to the backs of your thighs and ass. Luckily, depending on how you looked at it, the urine had run down rather than going every which direction so it was pretty easy to clean up. The way you tremble and shift your weight back and forth makes it a bit more difficult than it needed to be but he manages, somehow.

Tomura straightens after a long moment, finally deeming the back of you good to go. He’s not so sure he can get through this next part when you were fidgeting so much, though, and he briefly considers the clothes in the gym bag. The thought of putting you in another girly, saccharine sweet garment repulses him almost as much as the thought of putting you in a diaper. But he was going to have to pick and choose his battles here and, reaching back, he delicately tugs off his t-shirt.

“Turn around.”

You slowly comply, teeth chattering the whole time.

“Arms up.”

At this, you hesitate. But at his expectantly bland look, you do as you're told and raise your arms up in the air. The lift of your heavy tits almost successfully distracts him and it is with a great deal of self control on his part that he pulls his shirt down over your head, yanking it a little too forcefully into place.

“There.” He practically hisses, watching you clumsily work your arms through the sleeves. “Is that better?”

You think about that for a moment, eyes scanning across the front of his shirt, and he briefly wonders if you’re going to say something derisive about the worn video game logo stretched across your chest. But then you smile, nodding your head a little too enthusiastically.

“Mm! It smells like Tomu-nii!”

He really couldn’t stand you.

“Good. In return, I’ll need you to cooperate with me here. I’ve never done this before, you know?”

You blink at him quizzically. “Done what?”

Tomura rolls his eyes, feeling grumpier by the second. He couldn’t wait to get this over with and have you situated so he could run off to the bathroom for what probably wouldn’t even amount to five minutes of desperate jerking. “Never mind. Just do what I tell you, okay?”

You nod your head again, but he has some very real doubts about that. Even when you were pretending to go along with whatever it was he wanted you still found some way to fuck everything up for him. If this scheme somehow backfired because your brain was so scrambled you couldn’t even follow simple directions, he was not going to be happy.

Mentally bracing himself for the worst possible outcome, he reaches for the diapers. He rips the bag open almost violently and pulls one out, but it feels even more wrong in his hands than he’d thought it would. A strange sense of scandalized affront warms his chest, making him reconsider this choice for the upteenth time. If Tomura was being completely honest, he felt embarrassed for you but a quick glance in your direction proves that you don’t share quite the same sentiment. You really couldn’t have cared less, huh?

Right. Baby brain.

He grumbles under his breath as he non too gently snaps the diaper open with a loud crinkle of plastic and lays it out close to the edge of his bed. Motioning you closer, Tomura awkwardly helps you get seated on the damn thing and then instructs you to lay down. You genuinely don’t seem to have a problem with this as you recline back, just placidly peering up at him with your little fists balled in the hem of his shirt, but now that he’s gotten this far he’s not sure how to proceed.

At a loss, he takes another baby wipe out of the package and inserts himself between your bent legs. “I’m going to clean you some more, okay?” He's not sure why he’s telling you that, especially when all you do is nod your dopey head in understanding. Just buying time. That’s all he was doing.

But it gives him a chance to think and for that he’s grateful. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to figure out what All for One’s intention with all this had been. ‘A splendid birthday present for my favorite pupil’, he’d said, as if there were any others. But what was the reason? Surely you weren’t actually supposed to be a sex slave for him. Not in this sorry state. His battered onahole did a much better job on that front and it wasn’t prone to tantrums or crying, and it certainly didn’t pee on his stuff. It also didn’t require more than a perfunctory cleaning every few months. He couldn’t very well shove you into his nightstand and forget about it until the next time he was in the mood to rut into something.

All that was true, yes, but … his onahole also wasn’t warm to the touch, and it didn’t have soft, curly hair framing its abused slit (he really should buy a new one) nor did it self lubricate. It didn’t squeeze him quite the same way your pussy had squeezed his fingers, and it didn’t even really feel like an actual vagina now that he had something to compare it to. You were soft and squishy, pliable in the way only flesh and blood could be, and although he had no way of knowing if this had been All for One’s plan or not, he was certainly self aware enough to recognize that he’d screwed up somewhere along the line.

Tomura absolutely should have turned you to dust while he still had the chance.

Licking his lips, he drags the wipe through the seam of your cunt much more slowly than he needed to. You don’t even stir on the bed, and he thinks you must be starting to doze after … all of that. He’s not quite ready to leave well enough alone yet though, and he gently presses down on the spot where he now knows your clit is hiding. Still using the moist towelette as a pretense to keep touching you like this, he circles the sensitive little bud with it and genuine surprise washes over him when you let out a soft, pleasant sigh.

He glances up at your face but you aren’t even looking at him, lashes fanned out against the apples of your cheeks. It’s hard to tell if you were actually asleep or just pretending so you could lull him into a false sense of security, yet he doesn’t particularly care one way or another. You were his so he could do whatever he wanted to you, right? Besides. You kind of owed him after pissing all over his hand like that.

Discarding the baby wipe, Tomura bends closer and carefully spreads your labia again. He could see your little hole weakly palpitating, beckoning him to pick back up where he’d left off, but he drags his gaze a bit higher instead. You were so velvety soft and smooth it bordered on insane, so much more inviting than he ever would have thought possible.

He briefly hesitates before throwing caution aside and sealing his lips around your clit, gently mouthing at it. Your plushy thighs twitch around his head as you shift on top of the mattress, letting out another breathy sound that rushes straight to his cock. It almost hurts, the way it so eagerly springs back to life after being denied something as simple as release, but he can’t find it in himself to complain. You were giving him another chance, knowingly or not, and he wasn’t the type to squander such an opportunity.

Tomura takes his time lapping at you over the next few minutes until you’re almost as wet as when he’d started. You taste heavenly even with the artificial flavor of the wipes clinging to your folds and he entertains the notion of eating you out until you cum all over his face. There’s something he wants even more than that, though, and he sighs in relief when he finally straightens up so he can fish his cock out. It was almost painfully sensitive to the touch, and he could feel it throbbing potently in his hand. He knew this probably wasn’t going to last long but he didn’t care.

Guiding himself to your waiting entrance, he slowly pushes in one fraction at a time, damn near blowing his load the second his glans disappears into your body. He holds back though, struggling to maintain his composure as he seethes through gritted teeth. You finally seemed to realize that something was going on and your pretty eyes flutter open, immediately searching out his face.

“Tomu-nii …?”

“Be quiet. I’ve got you.”

You accept that in lieu of an explanation surprisingly fast, at least by his standards, and without another word you sleepily glance down at the juncture where your bodies were connected. A slow inhale makes your chest rise, mouth falling open as if to groan. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck,” the sound rattles out of Tomura’s chest as he slides in right down to the base, toes flexing against the floor. “I’m not even gonna’ get to enjoy this.”

Brows knitting together, you let out the softest mewling sound he’s ever heard and it makes him dig his carefully poised fingers deeper into the meat of your hips. He can’t even bring himself to move, so overwhelmed by how soft and wet your guts are. It felt like you were massaging his length, involuntarily or not, as your pussy suckles at the tip like he’s almost positive your mouth would.

Softly wheezing, Tomura drops his chin to look at where the two of you were stuck together. His pelvis was so flush against yours that your pudgy cunt was molded to the front of him, squishing under the pressure, and his silvery pubes were tangled with your darker ones. He hadn’t expected such a sight to be so damn erotic and it has him twitching, fighting back the orgasm he’d gone through hell and back for.

He’s almost scared to do it but, slowly, he eases back. The way his cock gradually reappears, glistening obscenely now, very nearly sends him over the edge. He isn’t sure how he hasn’t ruptured yet, his ballsac drawn so tight and throbbing that it leaves him feeling lightheaded, but through sheer force of will alone he manages to sink back into the inviting heat of your body without spraying your insides white. His self control was tentative as best, hanging on by a mere thread, but you felt far too good to waste on a quick nut.

“Goddamn … you’re so tight, baby. So fucking tight.”

You fidget underneath him, fussily tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Mm’ not a baby …”

Your pouty little response is enough to make him bark out a clipped laugh, more breathless than amused. You could insist you weren’t a baby all you wanted but, even putting aside the cruel, infantile reprogramming of your brain, it was hard to think otherwise when you were spread out on top of a diaper. It’s stark white, cottony lining was an almost unsettling backdrop to the perfect view he had of his cock stuttering in and out of your slick cunt. Even when he was barely moving, it crinkled softly underneath you with each rocking motion of his hips and he couldn’t quite forget it was there no matter how hard he tried.

Tomura wasn’t sure what he would ultimately do with you and he knew even less why he was even entertaining this wildly absurd situation to begin with, but there was no denying that you did have some use. The clinging grip of your pussy, for starters, and if he could get that bratty mouth of yours under control he might even some day find your company bearable. He still didn’t particularly like you but it wasn’t so farfetched to think that he might be able to tolerate you, with enough effort.

Hissing through his teeth, he drags one of his hands down to spread your puffy lips apart and get a good look at the way your petal soft folds clutch to his cock. It was a mesmerizing visual in the worst possible way, especially when accompanied by the soft, wet clicking he pulls from your body. He could have watched this for hours on end but, realistically, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, and he gives his wrist a brief twist to bring the middle finger down on your clit.

You twitch at the contact but Tomura takes a much more gentle approach this time, sedately drawing circles around the swollen bud. He doesn’t get much in the way of a reaction for his trouble so he just keeps at it, rubbing you in tandem with his staggered thrusts. The thought of making you cum around his cock is almost disturbingly enticing, but he isn’t so sure he can accomplish that. Not when so much of his focus was devoted to simply biting back his orgasm - but then, to his throbbing surprise, you draw a faltering breath.

“Tomu-nii … feels good …”

It’s as if the air had been punched right out of him. He isn't so sure he even believes his own ears, the blood suddenly pounding inside of them making it hard to hear much of anything. He groans though, thick and heavy as he slides his other hand up across your stomach to push at the bottom of his shirt. Your grip on the soft cotton momentarily tightens, still fighting him at every turn, but you give in almost immediately and allow him to shove it over the swell of your tits.

They’re moving, jiggling ever so slightly with the push and pull of his narrow hips as they quietly slap against the backs of your thighs. Tomura heaves, practically doubling over you with another throaty moan that rises in pitch at the tail end. His palm descends on one of your breasts, squeezing hard enough that the pliable flesh bulges and spills out between four of his fingers. You just stare up at him the entire time, face pinched and flushed while your glistening eyes dreamily watch him with a far off sort of quality that he’s sure must be - has to be pleasure.

He’d never seen anything sexier in his whole life, and that thought alone is far more terrifying than he could have ever guessed it would be. There was something wrong with you, yes, by All for One’s design. But there was something even more inherently wrong with him for getting off on this so much and without the added bonus of quirk tampering to excuse his behavior. You were so sweet and unfairly innocent despite your seductive figure, the sight of you naked save his bunched up t-shirt driving him absolutely wild. It was like you belonged here, with him, in his bed. It wasn’t that he no longer wanted to kill you but that he couldn’t.

What little bit of self control he’d still been clinging to up until now shatters, and Tomura snaps his hips into your upturned ass: once, twice, three times. The sticky squelching between your bodies increases in volume, echoing inside his skull like a ricocheting bullet as he watches your face screw up at the sudden force. It doesn’t even matter though. He’s long since reached his limit and, with a wounded grunt, he slams into you one final time, lurching over your prone body.

The sound that comes out of his mouth as he shudders and violently paints your pink guts is, frankly, embarrassing. But he’s riding a high too great to care, clinging to you hard enough to make his joints ache and you whimper in discomfort. He can’t stop though. He’s cumming so hard, pulse after pulse, that it feels like his soul actually slips out of his body for a worryingly long beat before returning in fragmented pieces. The same, but also somehow different. Like he’d experienced rebirth in the warm, comforting clutch of your drenched cunt.

He wheezes as if he’d been stabbed in the chest when he finally eases his softening cock out of you some time later.

Tomura was completely spent, both physically and mentally. His wobbly legs could hardly support his weight anymore but, with a strength of mind he hadn’t even realized he possessed, he directs a shaky finger to your clit again. You squirm in response, huffing after that rough treatment, but he soothes you with hushed words and a gentle touch to the delicate little pearl he barely even needs to brush against to have you shaking for him.

“Relax. You feel good, don’t you? Let me hear those pretty sounds again, baby.”

Obstinately, you purse your lips together to deny him even that one simple request. Tomura heaves a tired sigh, wishing you weren’t such a brat, but he doesn’t let up. The gentle circles he rubs into your clit with the pad of his finger slowly brings you around though, grudgingly, and he can’t quite deny the satisfaction that sparks in his throat when your mouth warbles open to let loose the sweetest, tiny moan he’s ever heard.

“Nngh … Tomu-nii …!”

“Don't fight it. I want you to feel good too, yknow.” He pauses, tongue glancing over his dry lips. “Will you cum for me, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, eyes screwing shut, but the way your body continues to tense up seems to suggest otherwise. He could tell you were practically thrumming with it, burning from the inside out even as his milky white discharge slowly oozes down your slit to pool in the seat of the diaper. It was unexpectedly exciting to watch, disproportionately naughty given how utterly unappealing the crinkly plastic was at first glance, and he picks up the pace of his rubbing.

“I think you’re lying again. You liked how it felt when I was inside you, right? This will be even better, I promise. You’ll love it. I know you will.”

Weakly writhing on top of his bed, you crack your eyes open to peer up at him again. “T - Tomu-nii … I can’t … ahh. Ahh. Ahh! I … I’m … ahh! Tomu-niiiii!”

You suddenly jerk, tossing your head back against the sheets, and he watches in rapt fascination as you quake so hard it nearly catches him off guard. It wasn’t the seductive, rolling tremors he was used to seeing in porn videos but, rather, a full bodied spasm that had you twisting as if to get away. Your thighs try to clamp shut around his hand but he elbows them apart, refusing to let up until he’d milked your orgasm as thoroughly as you’d milked his.

And you looked so pretty, too. Caught up in mind numbing pleasure so intense he couldn’t even begin to fathom what you were feeling. Even his own earth shattering release seemed to pale in comparison to this, and it takes you much longer to start coming down from it than it did him.

Your hair is a mess by the time you’re done, matted in some places and sticking to your damp forehead in others. For a fleeting moment, Tomura can almost see the adult woman you should have been when your face goes slack in ecstasy and your flushed lips were parted to suck in as much oxygen as you could get. He imagines you were probably no stranger to pleasures of the flesh, not with that body and those looks, so the thought that he could make you feel this good was a bit like a pat on the back for him. It was probably just beginners luck, but that didn’t stop him from feeling any less proud of himself.

Slowly, he takes his hands off you and steps back. The spot between your legs was absolutely covered in fluid, your sticky, copious slick mixing with his spunk to make a truly viscous concoction that clung to your damp curls. He thinks that he should probably clean you up again and reaches for the baby wipes, but stops himself short.

The idea that crosses his mind is very likely foul, perhaps even more offensive than anything else he’d done til now, but … a quick glance at your sloppy pussy proves too great a temptation. There was something inherently erotic about making you walk around with his semen dripping out of you, even if it was only going to be absorbed by the diaper, and he shuffles close again with his heart in his throat.

Tomura hasn’t the slightest clue what he’s doing and it takes him a long moment to figure out the tape tabs on the sides. He gets frustrated halfway through the process, struggling to make sure the crinkly plastic was secure enough around your waist, but by some miracle you stay relatively still through all of his fumbling. He isn’t quite sure how he got so lucky but he doesn’t stop to question it, hawkishly focusing all of his attention on the task at hand.

At length, he straightens to admire his work. It’s not perfect by any means but he’s pretty sure the damned thing wasn’t going to fall off as soon as you stood up so there was that. The diaper itself was just as obnoxiously girly as everything else in the gym bag; a soft, lilac purple with a flowery, cartoon bunny design on them. He didn’t mind the rabbits so much, and it was certainly preferable to the onesie, but he still thought you’d look nice in something a bit cooler.

The realization that he was thinking about this in such quaint, fuzzy terms chills Tomura to the bone, and his gaze flicks to your face so he can ask what you think of them. Even if only to distract himself from his own uncomfortably perverse change of heart.

But you were already asleep. He probably should have expected as much, and he could tell you were actually snoozing this time by the shallow, even rise and fall of your chest. A strange sense of embarrassment washes over him and he reaches out to delicately take the hem of his shirt between thumb and finger so he can tug it back down into place. You only snuggle further into the mattress though, getting comfortable, and further cementing the notion that he had, indeed, fucked up.

He’d never be able to get rid of you now.

Grumbling under his breath, Tomura leans over you with one hand braced on the mattress. The other slips between your legs, unable to squeeze shut now with the bulk of the diaper between them, and ever so carefully cups his palm over your crotch. It was cool to the touch, but if he pushed down hard enough he could feel the warmth of your body bleeding through. You let out a quiet huff in response, petulant towards him even in your sleep, and he can’t quite stop himself from laughing. It was absurd. It was strange. It was strikingly, unequivocally weird, but he was almost glad he hadn’t disintegrated you or strangled you to death.

This wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he’d wished for a woman he could do with as he pleased and not have to worry about her running away, but … it was close enough, he supposed.

#shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #self insert bullshit #my writing #I'll tag the series later #I don't know if I want this to show at the top of the main tags seems a bit like inviting trouble #I've wanted to write something like this for a very very long time and I just took advantage of Shigaraki's birthday to finally do it #blah #I make him cry bout' the pussy #prolly why my shit so wet #ahh 👅

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wakaoujisenhime · 3 years

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Ah!~ I fall in love with your Takao headcanons! Can I ask headcanons about Takao from best friends to lovers?

A/N: But OF COURSE, you can, the more Takao you guys want, the better for me! ٩( ᐛ )و

So this will be a continuation from his best friends headcanons I made a while back and for those who’d like to see a spicier version of the more or less same troupe, I linked a similar request I got below! Hope you’ll enjoy this! ❤️

Tags: Takao x reader ✅ fluff ✅ friends to lovers ✅ slight angst ✅

☞ 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟙 ☞ 𝕤𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕪 𝕧𝕖𝕣.

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

living with your best friend didn’t change your relationship as much as you thought it would

the two of you were still clinging to each other like leeches, supporting the other during hard times and in general providing a shoulder to cry and lean on when needed

now that you were roommates and not only neighbors you saw Takao every single day and that came with many advantages

you both shared the housework and came up with cooking/cleaning/laundry schedules that made your joint life so much easier

Takao had decided to start working after graduation while you continued your studies (and occasionally worked at a part-time job close to your apartment)

it heavily depended on your individual schedule, but in general, the two of you had agreed that the first one home should be the one to prepare dinner and help the other one out a little

usually, Takao would be the first one home and every time you came back he greeted you like some kind of butler, helping you out of your jacket, taking your bag, leading you to the kitchen where he showed you that evening’s dinner, and lastly he’d conclude his small tour at the bathroom where he had run a bath for you

both of you were so close that all of your neighbors (especially the older ones) continuously teased you, saying what kind of cute couple the two of you were and some even went as far as to ask when you’re wedding was going to be

in the beginning, your and Takao’s cheeks would flush ever so slightly but the longer you lived there the more used to it you got, and in the end, it even reached a stage where you’d counter their remarks with your own witty and comical ones

comments such as theirs didn’t bother you that much, or at least that’s what you thought ...

a couple of months after moving in you invited some members of Shuutoku’s basketball team over for a friendly get-together and a warm dinner

it had been a lot of fun

people were teased, embarrassing situations were denounced as hilarious, compliments fell left and right, and what not

at some point though Miyaji - the club’s former captain - raised the question of whether Takao and you had finally started a romantic relationship

it was just a well-meant question and perhaps a subtle hint and yet your best friend began to deny that so strongly that you couldn’t help but feel aggrieved from his over-exaggerated reaction

the evening was kinda ruined for you and some of them noticed it and felt bad for you

in the end, Miyaji actually came up to you and apologized, saying just how much he’d regretted asking you something that was seemingly a taboo-topic

since then the relationship between your best friend and yourself was quite shaky, you began avoiding too much body contact with him, tuned down your clinginess, and even started avoiding him at times

some people think that Takao isn’t the brightest and assume that he’s quite dense, but you knew better

it didn’t take him even a week to notice that something was wrong with you and before you knew it he waited for you to come back home and asked you to take a seat across from him on the couch

“(Y/N)-chan...I’m aware that something’s been bothering you for the past few days and I know that some topics are better left unsaid, but I really hate seeing you suffer because of maybe something I did.”

his words stabbed your heart like hundred knives and even if you’d planned to keep your hurt pride to yourself, you knew that communication was key in any kind of relationship so with a bitter smile you told him about everything, how his reaction had hurt you more than his captain’s harmless question and how these new and yet unknown thoughts had begun to cloud your mind with masses of doubts

there was a brief break during which Takao’s expression grew unbelievably sad, he had expected anything but this

and then finally after what felt like hours he whispered out your name, got up from his chair, and slowly walked towards you, kneeling in front of your seated figure

“I’m truly sorry...I-I wasn’t aware of how much this actually bothered you,” he paused as he took your hands into his own and continued, “all I wanted was to make Miyagi drop that theme fast since he’s the type to talk about one topic for hours and I really didn’t want to make you uncomfortable since that evening was meant for recollecting and updating each other about our daily lives and not a relationship counseling...”

with a sigh you shook your head and couldn’t help but laugh at just how ridiculous this situation was, Takao joined you not long after

after that small misunderstanding, you two needed a bit until your relationship had normalized, but you’d be lying if you said that everything was back to how it used to be

once the imagination of Takao as your boyfriend had entered your mind you began to realize just how close the two of you truly were

him tending to your needs every time you came back home late, resembled that of a worried father-to-be whose wife was to go into labor soon

the way he always jokingly offered himself as your dinner was a cliché joke and sometimes an invitation one would often see in romance series that once again fell between lovers

and the worst for your heart was how the word ‘personal space’ wasn’t even present in his vocabulary, he’d hug you whenever he could, lean himself on your back and leave his chin in the crack of your neck at every given opportunity, and let’s not mention whenever he had trouble falling asleep (which was basically almost every day)

all those small and seemingly irrelevant gestures which didn’t usually affect you were now the trigger for a deep-red blush along your cheeks and an increased heart rate

and it didn’t help that Takao would constantly tease you whenever he noticed your flushed face

as time went by though you noticed that something between you two had indeed changed

now his mere presence was enough to make your heart thump wildly against your chest

the only comfort you found was that he himself had started blushing more often as well

you thought that nothing of deeper meaning was behind it and just blamed it on your behavior, but what you didn’t know was that Takao was experiencing the same thing as you

for him, it was as if every single touch - no matter how featherlight it was - set his skin on fire

every ever so small and gentle smile or grin you directed his way, immediately brightened up his mood

and let’s not even talk about the small things you do for him, like cooking, preparing some late-night snacks for whenever he has to work on a project until very late in the evening, folding his laundry, ironing his shirts, and so on...

both of you were slowly starting to acknowledge the other as an essential part of your respective lives

on top of that, innocent and sweet thoughts such as kissing each other on the lips, taking a bath together, or just doing silly things such as hiding from the people outside so that you can feel each other’s lips began dominating your minds

and what choice did the two of you have but to bottle these feelings up and hide them from each other just because you didn’t want to ruin your friendship

it was painful of course, but you continued to put yourself through with it, determined to keep this a secret for as long as necessary

unfortunately, Takao wasn’t made out of the same cloth and was slowly but surely feeling how everything was about to explode pretty soon

and then finally one day when the two of you went out shopping together some of your elderly neighbors stopped you yet again and began interrogating you guys as usual

“Have you two dears finally admitted your feelings for each other?”

there it was, their favorite question, that was strangely accurate this time

you were ready to debunk it yet again, but Takao suddenly took a hold of your hand, squeezed it slightly, and announced: “Not yet, but I’m about to!”

three pairs of wide eyes were fixated on the slightly blushing young man who stood beside you and while you were still trying to decipher whether you’d heard him right he faced you and even took a gentle hold of your second hand

“(Y/N)...I feel like this should’ve happened sooner, but my fear of losing you as my constant pillar of support was too big. Your presence was always something extremely helpful and soothing, but as of late I started to truly notice just how much more it was for me and my life. The sheer imagination of me being without you hurt me more than any game my team lost, any missed promotion chance or anything negative for that matter,” he paused and took a deep breath before continuing, “what I’m trying to say is that...(Y/N), I’d like you to become my lover.”

silent gasps could be heard, but you were too overwhelmed to pay any attention to it

the fact that he’d felt the same way and was stuck in the same situation as you were truly unbelievable, but now that you knew it all those small things you’d denounced as an effect of your own unusual behavior made sense

you looked up into the slate blue eyes of the man you’d fallen for and slowly removed your hands from his tight grip, only to then wrap your arms around his neck and bring him closer to you

Takao immediately seized the opportunity to do the same, he was anxious about what you were about to say so he at least wanted to savor what might be his very last embrace from you

“Took us long enough now didn’t it?” was all you said before you confidently took a hold of his cheeks and brought his face closer to your lips until they touched

while you two kissed ever so passionately and drowned in the liberating feeling of mutual love, the two older women next to you smiled while commenting on how they’d always known and how bad you two were hiding it

after you’d finally separated from each other you gave him your obvious answer to which he simply giggled and out of happiness began cuddling and kissing your face all over

this was truly a wonderful moment, it might not affect your relationship all too much but it was nonetheless a step towards a new and yet unknown experience that the two of you would live through while constantly supporting each other ...

#knb headcanons #knb imagines #knb fluff #knb angst #knb takao #takao x reader #━𝙺𝙽𝙱 #━𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽'𝚂 𝙴𝙲𝙷𝙾

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kuroopaisen · 3 years

Text

tiny love || 8

➵ as tooru’s younger sister, falling in love with iwaizumi hajime was easy. iwaizumi ultimately decided to rebuff you. through a few strange twists of fate, you’ve ended up living with the very boy who’d broken your heart. but, perhaps it’s not as bad as you thought it’d be. he is the perfect gentleman, after all.

warnings: f!reader, angst??

wc: 3.9k

m.list | ch. 7 ↞ ch. 8 ↠ ch. 9

The film was alright. There was a certain chaos to it, an unhinged energy that gave it real character. Although, you weren’t quite sure how to feel about the reverse-Freudian implications of Marty’s mother getting a crush on him.

The phone in your lap buzzed, shooting light upwards into the darkened room. Glancing down, you read the name ‘Kohei’ on the screen.

It’d be rude to text him back during the movie, right? Since Iwaizumi was showing you this specific film… Although, it’d been your choice.

You turned your mind away from the question, your eyes flitting back to the screen.

The man with the frazzled white hair – Doc, was it? – was speaking at a rapid-fire pace. If it weren’t for the subtitles, you would’ve been totally lost.

Your phone buzzed again. Still Kohei. You covered the screen with your hand, trying to block out the ambiance-ruining brightness.

Yet another buzz.

“Who is that?” Iwaizumi frowned. “They’ve got a lot to say.”

“Sorry,” you blushed, turning your phone over so it was face down on the arm of the couch. “It’s Kohei.”

“Kohei?” There’s a strange lilt in Iwaizumi’s voice.

You ignored it. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure you met him at the party.”

“Oh,” Iwaizumi hummed. “Right.”

He said nothing more, turning his attention back to the screen.

You bit your lip, fingers tightening around your phone.

It felt a little weird, doing something so casual with him. Well, you’d been doing casual things with him for a while, but something about this just felt so domestic. Probably didn’t help that the last time you did this together, he’d kissed you.

Your stomach twisted at the thought.

God, that felt like a lifetime ago now. And maybe it was, in some way; neither of you were those people anymore.

But a part of you still wanted to kiss him, just like back then.

You knew you shouldn’t think about it. He’d pushed you away two years ago for a reason. If you wanted this whole living situation thing to keep going smoothly, you had to respect that.

And yet, it felt unfair.

This was all so easy. So natural.

But it was something you couldn’t have. Something you couldn’t hope for.

You swallowed roughly, slipping your hands under your thighs.

You couldn’t think about it. If you did, you’d just make things worse.

And you were willing to do just about anything to maintain the delicate friendship between the two of you.

✧ ✧ ✧

“So,” Tooru’s voice came through the speaker with its usual levity. “How’s living with Iwa?”

Your stomach dropped. “It’s good!”

It’s not a lie. You just didn’t want to talk about it with Tooru. At least half of the things that made the whole arrangement so fun were things you didn’t exactly want to mention to your older brother.

“You don’t have to rub it in!” He whined.

“Rub what in?” You blinked, a little lost.

“The fact that you get to live with Iwa!”

Oh. Right.

“You’re the one who suggested it,” you teased.

“I know, but it doesn’t make it sting any less!”

“He would’ve killed you within the first day,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Not true!” Tooru barked.

You laughed. You didn’t need to see him to know the exact expression on his face. He’d always been comically expressive, even as a child.

That warm silence that always followed laughter settled over the call.

“Oh, man,” Tooru chuckled. “No, but how are you going?” He asked.

It’d been a while since the two of you had really gotten the chance to talk. Both of you had just been too busy; any catchups you managed to sneak in didn’t allow for much time to really get into the details of your lives.

But today was the day.

“I’ve been doing really well, actually!” It was such a delight to be able to say those words with full sincerity. “I’m still adjusting and everything, but… I think it’s going to be good.”

Small hiccups with Iwaizumi aside, everything was under control. Sure, sometimes you weren’t quite sure what they were saying in class, and yes, you did procrastinate more than perhaps you should’ve – but you were making a life here.

“See, I told you!” He chided.

“Yeah, you keep reminding me of that,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“I’m just saying,” he hummed, adopting his favourite ‘hoity-toity older brother’ tone, “you should’ve listened to me in the first place.”

“I know, I know…” You sighed.

Tooru had told you time and time again that things’d worked out. ‘If I can move to a whole new country on my own, then you can definitely do it with Iwa’s help,’ he’d said. You’d had trouble believing him at first; but for once, he’d been right.

“I’m glad the two of you have each other, you know?” He said.

You flinched. Now those were words you hadn’t expected to hear.

“Huh?”

“You and Iwa,” Tooru explained. “He doesn’t talk about his feelings often, but I think you being there has really helped him relax.”

Your stomach churned.

Was that true? Had your presence really made Iwaizumi feel better? He’d done a lot to help you, but you felt like you hadn’t really done anything for him. You’d just felt like something of a burden.

But if that wasn’t actually true…

“What do you mean?” You asked quietly. God, you hoped your voice wasn’t giving anything away.

“Well, you know,” Tooru said, “you’re someone he knows from home. That sounds pretty comforting to me.”

You were grateful he couldn’t see the pink blooming on your cheeks. “Are you asking me to move to Argentina?” You teased. You didn’t know what else to say.

“Well, I wouldn’t say no—”

“Because I’d rather die.”

The gasp that erupted from Tooru was so loud it peaked the audio. “How dare you? If we were living together, I’d be able to keep an eye on you. And, I could ward of any pesky boys.”

“That’s the problem.”

“Don’t be so inappropriate!” Tooru shrieked. “I don’t want to know the details!”

“I wasn’t going to tell you any of the details!”

“You were about to!”

“No I wasn’t!”

“I’ll have you know, you are far too young to be dating, young lady, and that—”

“I’m only a year younger than you!”

“And?”

“Shut up, Tooru!”

✧ ✧ ✧

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. The kitchen table was supposed to help you get your ass into gear. But instead, your laptop was open, but nothing had been done. The screen was probably a few moments away from turning idle.

A to-do list stared back at you, unrelenting. The sound of rain against the windows was your only companion. Iwaizumi had left for the gym some time ago, and you’d decided that music would be too much of a distraction.

Not that the absence of it was helping you.

Come on, you thought to yourself, just focus.

Easier said than done.

You groaned, leaning back against your chair. Why was it so hard to focus?

A deep breath, and then—

Slap!

Your cheeks stung from the impact of your own palms.

No difference.

The sound of the door opening was a beautiful reprieve. Finally, a worthy excuse to procrastinate—

“Hey.” Iwaizumi said a little breathlessly, holding his hand up in greeting.

You gaped at him.

Words might’ve come to mind if it was any other circumstances.

But when he was just standing there like that, you couldn’t help it.

A white shirt that clung to his torso, cheeks flushed with recent exertion, hair all messy—

It was official. You needed to start writing up your will, saying your goodbyes, getting all your chickens in order. Iwaizumi was certifiably too much, and you couldn’t handle it.

You were doing your best to respond. Truly. But it’s like his chest was a damn magnet, drawing your eyes back to it no matter how hard you tried to look at him respectfully.

Stupid Iwaizumi Hajime and his stupid shirt and his stupid chest—

“You good?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Me?” Your gaze snapped up to meet his. “Oh, yeah. I’m great, actually.”

“If you say so,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Well,” you gaped at him, trying to fight off the myriad of phantasmal shirtless Iwaizumi’s dancing around your head. You were losing. “I’m offended that you’re not more concerned.”

“You’ll recover,” he grinned.

You pouted at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this treatment.”

Iwaizumi chuckled again, ambling across the room with an aggravatingly slow pace. The sooner he was out of sight, the better.

“It’s tough love, sweetheart,” he tutted. “It’s how the world works.”

“Well—” You huffed, trying to think of a retort. But, you were far too distracted by the use of ‘sweetheart’ – even if it hadn’t been used in an affectionate way.

“I’m going to have a shower,” Iwaizumi said, smirking at you. “I hope you’re feeling better by the time I get out.”

“Mhm,” you nodded, eyes fixated determinedly on your computer screen. If you looked up and saw his glutes, you were sure you’d implode.

You covered your face with your forearms, letting out a silent scream.

Why did God hate you? Why did he want you to suffer? Every time you thought you’d got it under control, you were reminded of the fact that Iwaizumi looked like that, and any work you’d done to neatly tuck your romantic feelings into a box managed to wriggle like a rebellious young cat.

Every goddamn time, you were reminded of just how determined he was, how responsible, how quietly caring, how—

No. You shook your head. No need to indulge those thoughts. Not when you were supposed to be doing work.

Although, there was no way you were getting anything done today.

✧ ✧ ✧

“How old are you in these?” You grinned, glancing at Kohei.

His cheeks flushed. “I think I was like… sixteen here?”

“Sixteen, huh?”

“You know what high schools like back home,” he whined. “We all deserve some stress relief.”

“And yours was… running at each other across a field while screaming at the top of your lungs?”

“You should try it,” he beamed. “It’s surprisingly effective.”

You laughed, your body curving towards him.

You hadn’t planned on inviting Kohei over today. You’d just happened to bump into him by chance on campus as you were heading home. As usual, he’d struck up quite the conversation. But you’d wanted to get home before it got dark, so you’d invited him to come with you.

So there you were, sitting on your couch in the front room, listening to Kohei tell you about the stupid video he and his high school friends made back in Osaka. Most of them were re-enactments of Naruto scenes.

To each their own, you supposed.

The creak of front door came from around the corner.

“Hey Hajime!” You called out.

“Hey,” he called back, voice warm.

“You’re home later than usual,” you said.

“I was hanging out with Taiki,” he explained. “We got bubble tea.”

“Oh, nice,” you nodded, watching as he came into view.

He smiled as he caught sight of you. It took him a moment to realise you weren’t alone.

“You remember Kohei, right?” You gestured to the boy sitting next to you.

“Hello,” Kohei nodded, bright smile on his face.

“Hi,” Iwaizumi said. His smile disappeared, expression becoming even stonier than usual.

The atmosphere felt a shade cooler than it had a moment prior.

“You didn’t tell me you were having someone over,” Iwaizumi said coolly, heading to his bedroom.

“It was impromptu,” you explained.

“Mhm,” was the last sound you heard before he disappeared down the hall.

You clenched your fists in your lap. Had something happened? Was it okay to ask?

If something was up, Kohei certainly hadn’t noticed it. Not that you expected him to.

“How’d you feel about the most recent Godzilla film?” He asked.

“Uh… I don’t think we have it.” That was the polite way of saying ‘Iwaizumi hates that film with his entire being, and he wouldn’t dare debase this household by buying it on DVD.’

You’d heard his rant a couple of times, actually – insufficient screen time for Godzilla, a lack of understanding of the point of a monster movie, mediocre battles.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Kohei shrugged. “It’s on Netflix.”

“Ah, I see,” you nodded.

Why did it already feel like agreeing to a movie was a mistake?

✧ ✧ ✧

Thirty minutes in and you knew it was a mistake.

You were bored. Horribly, terribly bored.

But you didn’t have the heart to tell Kohei that when he, at least, seemed to be enjoying himself.

Besides, you could find other ways to occupy yourself. You could just think (see: fantasise) about Gojou Satoru. That’d been more than enough to keep you entertained during your duller classes.

Iwaizumi ambled into the kitchen, his eyes flicking to the two of you for only a second. You held up your hand a little as a greeting; he didn’t return it.

You swallowed, turning your ‘attention’ back to the TV.

Something was wrong. You didn’t know what, but… If Kohei wasn’t there, you would’ve just walked over to Iwaizumi and asked him if there was any way you could help. But having a guest… complicated things.

Said guest stretched his arms over his head. You hoped, absentmindedly, that he’d had a shower recently.

He laid one of his arms along the top of the couch, just ghosting your shoulders.

You managed to hold back a frown. What was he doing? Was he trying to hit on you? Or was it absentminded? If it was the former, then it was a rather childish way of—

A loud clutter erupted from the kitchen. A quiet ‘shit’ quickly followed.

You shot to your feet on instinct, rushing over to where a very disgruntled Iwaizumi stood.

“Are you okay?” You asked, looking him up and down.

Water stained his shirt, the water jug lying sideways on the countertop.

“I’m fine,” Iwaizumi grunted, setting it upright.

You grabbed the tea towel, dabbing at his shirt. Sure, it wouldn’t be much help, but—

“I said I’m fine.”

You draw back sharply, shocked by the harshness in his voice.

Instead you turned to the puddle of water on the counter, laying the tea towel over it. You watched as it turned a shade darker, seeping through the cotton until there wasn’t a single inch of dry cloth left.

Iwaizumi had turned away from you, standing in front of the sink as he refilled the water jug.

You pressed your lips together, concern and agitation brewing in your gut.

He seemed… Stressed? Irritated? Bitter?

But you couldn’t ask. Not right now. You’d have to wait until Kohei was gone, at the very least. And you didn’t want to pry. Iwaizumi didn’t appreciate that sort of thing.

Was there anything you could do for now? Anything at all?

“Did you want to order food with us?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. It was the best thing you could think of; giving him one less thing to worry about might help, right?

“No,” Iwaizumi said curtly.

You blinked at him. “You sure? It’ll save you the trouble of making dinner.”

“I’d rather eat on my own,” he grumbled.

“Oh,” you murmured.

You were at a total loss. Something was wrong.

But you turned away, slinking back to the couch.

“Is everything okay?” Kohei asked as you sat yourself back down.

“Mhm,” you nodded.

As a precaution, you set a little more distance between the two of you. If you sat any closer, he might get the wrong idea.

✧ ✧ ✧

After what felt like three days, the film was over. What’d happened in it? You couldn’t say. You hadn’t been paying attention.

You’d instead been preoccupied with Iwaizumi.

Maybe you were worrying too much over something minor. Maybe he’d just had a bad day at work. Maybe Taiki had just been a brat. Maybe he just had a few assignments due in close succession.

But that didn’t stop you from feeling anxious. Was that pathetic?

At the very least, you wanted to make sure he was okay. This behaviour seemed… weird.

“What time is it?” You turned to Kohei, tilting your head to the side.

“Uh… eight,” he said, checking his phone.

It was that late already? But there was still so much you needed to get done…

You yawned, stretching you hands above your head. “Thanks for hanging out with me today,” you said, turning to smile at Kohei.

“No problem,” he nodded, in response, offering you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Nothing more needed to be said to get the message across.

The two of you walked towards the front door, Kohei’s steps a little slower than yours.

You didn’t want to make it look like you were trying to rush him out of there, but you also didn’t want to give him the impression that you wanted him to stay. Everything just felt so weird, so… so high stakes. Like any little action you made was at risk of being misinterpreted.

“Well…” Kohei lingered at your door for a moment, looking at you with what seemed to be hope in his eyes.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” You smiled.

“Sure,” he nodded, opening the door. “Thanks.” He seemed a tad more dour than usual. Your stomach twisted a little.

“Bye!” You said, hoping that this, at least, would set your boundaries.

He didn’t seem bold enough to make an actual move, but you’d rather save the trouble.

You watched with a tiny sense of relief blooming in your chest as he stepped over the threshold and walked away.

Once the door finally closed, you let out a long sigh.

Something was up. Even you could tell that. His attempts at flirting, while juvenile, were earnest. What a strange evening this had been…

At the very least, you made a note to not invite him to your house alone again. That’d been your first mistake.

You dragged yourself to the kitchen, pouring out a glass of water. The tea towel was still soaked through, laid out on the counter. You’d probably have to get a bath towel to clean this mess up.

You sunk to the floor, feeling the cool tiles against the back of your thighs.

Were you going to have to turn Kohei down? God, you didn’t want to do that. That sounded awkward. And he was genuinely a sweet guy – your heart just wasn’t in the right space.

Not while you were living with Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi.

Something was off with him, too. But you had no idea what. He’s always been tight-lipped about his own feelings. Even two years ago, it had never been about him; it’d be about the potential ramifications his actions could’ve had on the people around him.

He never wanted to be a burden. Even though he’d leant you a hand so many times these past six months, you knew he’d never ask for the same in return.

But you wanted to help. He deserved support.

Should you ask? Should you try bringing it up, or—

“Oh, fuck.”

Your looked up sharply.

Iwaizumi was stood at the entrance of the kitchen, shoulders tense with surprise.

“Oh, sorry,” you swallowed, crossing your legs.

He just grunted in response, turning his attention to the fridge.

You bit your lip, watching him closely. His posture was tense, his jaw stiffer than usual.

“Hey, Hajime?” You asked, voice soft and quiet.

“What?” His response was quick, sharp.

“Are you alright?” Perhaps you should’ve asked this earlier. Perhaps you shouldn’t ask it at all. But it was too late to take it back.

“I’m fine,” he grunted, half-slamming the fridge door.

“I know you’re lying,” you said softly.

He may keep his feelings to himself, but he wasn’t the best at disguising them. Especially when it came to annoyance.

With Tooru, it tended to bubble over, resulting in some rant or threat. But these days, you didn’t really see him get pissed except for when the washing machine wasn’t working properly.

“Mind your own business.”

Those words cut you to your core.

This was… strange. Unusual. He’d seemed fine this morning, and as far as you knew, he’d just… been to the gym. His demeanour had only taken a nose-dive when…

“Why are you being like this?” You asked, voice thin and tight. God, this better not be what you were thinking.

“Being like what?” Iwaizumi mumbled, staring at his phone.

You bit the inside of your cheek.

Did he really have no idea that he was acting like a petulant child who didn’t want to eat their vegetables?

“Do you have a problem with Kohei?” He couldn’t dodge that question.

“No,” he said, still looking at his phone. “He just comes off as a bit desperate.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“You can’t be serious,” Iwaizumi scoffed. “He’s not subtle.”

You stared at him, total confusion clouding your mind.

What on earth was he on about? Desperate? Subtle? Wasn’t it just a case of him having a grudge for no reason?

Wait. Holy fuck. Was he… jealous?

The realisation washed over you like a fever.

Anger, rage, bitterness. It all collapsed in on itself, feelings you’d been supressing for two years.

He’d crushed your heart in the palm of his hand two years ago. Told you that any kind of romantic relationship between the two of you would be too much of a risk.

And you’d let him.

You hadn’t fought back. You hadn’t stood up for your own feelings. You’d just let him do what he wanted, what he thought was best. And never, not even once, had you made your feelings known.

But here he was, with the audacity to be jealous of a guy flirting with you.

He didn’t own you. He had no say in what happened in your personal life. If you wanted to sleep around, if you wanted to have a long-term partner that wasn’t him… it didn’t matter. It was your business, not his.

And yet, the worst thing of all was that this response, this jealousy, made your heart flutter. It made you hopeful; that maybe, this time, things might be different.

That Iwaizumi Hajime wasn’t so far out of reach. That this time, you had a chance.

Fuck him.

“No,” you hissed. “I’m not letting you break my heart again.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes blew wide, his lips parting slightly.

“You dropped me like I was nothing two years ago,” you scoffed. “You don’t get to act like a spoilt little brat just because you’re jealous.”

“Look, I—” He stopped himself in his tracks.

He really had nothing to say for himself, huh?

You glared at him, the corners of your eyes beginning to sting. “You’re acting like a child,” you hissed. “I hoped you were better than that.”

You didn’t give him time to respond.

He didn’t deserve to.

You stormed off to your room, slamming the door behind you.

A deep, shuddering breath wasn’t enough to still your stuttering heart. Nor was it enough to move the lump in your throat.

God, what a colossal disaster.

But for once, it wasn’t your fault.

✧ ✧ ✧

a/n: sorry this one’s late! thank you for your patience :( i hope it was worth the wait

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu x reader #tiny love

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voiceless-terror · 3 years

Text

In which Martin and Gerry help Jon acquire a cat, among other things.

“Martin, look!”

A phone is shoved in his face; on the screen is a tiny black kitten sprawled on a carpet with the headline “Free to a Good Home!!” Martin knows where this is going.

“Finally time to bite the bullet, eh?”

“We could surprise him!” Gerry’s voice is animated as he waves his phone in the air. Martin loves when he gets like this, unguarded and sweet. “You know how stressed he’s been. Honestly, I’m shocked we haven’t gotten one already.”

“Well, he’s certainly been hinting at it.” Martin gestures broadly at the walls of the bookstore, decorated with various cozy knick knacks and art they’ve picked up at charity shops. There’s no less than three oddly majestic cat paintings along with a shelf of tiny porcelain felines, not to mention the gaudy clock that has cat breeds instead of numbers. Jon has...particular taste. “Not very subtle, is he?”

“Should I message them, then?” Gerry squints at the screen. “We met them at trivia a few months ago - Mara, the one with the-”

“Green hair, yeah.” Martin remembers the night rather fondly. Gerry usually spent most trivia nights scowling in the corner and making snarky commentary with Jon, but on that particular occasion he had a few drinks and was considerably more relaxed. He managed to charm half of the bar with his stories and wit while Jon stared on, adoration clear on his face. “But you know Jon would kill us if we didn’t let him have a say. You know how he gets, he needs to prepare-”

“-buy ninety toys-”

“-think up a ridiculous name.” They both laugh at that- Jon’s got a penchant for renaming their friend’s pets when he doesn’t think their moniker “suits them.” He’s gotten into more than one fight about it. “Text him so he doesn’t stay late, though. I’m not staying up until midnight again.”

“On it.”

_______

They hear Jon before they see him.

The door creaks open, alerting them to his presence as Jon lets out his usual long-suffering sigh (Gerry fondly calls this mood ‘The Bouchard Blues.’) His clothes are wrinkled and his eyes are barely open; from the slight indent on his face, Martin reckons he fell asleep at his desk again. Gerry meets him at the door, grabbing his bag and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Rough day, love?”

Another sigh, this one a bit more huffy. “Elias came in at half past four with a box of ninety random documents and wanted them all organized by tomorrow. Impossible, of course, unless I stay the night-”

“But you came home!” Gerry says it with a sort of wonder in his voice; Jon very rarely stands up to his boss, no matter how ridiculous the ask.

“W-Well, you said it was important,” Jon looks between them with large, worried eyes. Always assuming the worst. “It’s nothing bad, is it?”

“Jon, I thought the twelve reassuring texts and afternoon phone call put that to rest,” Gerry replies as he steers them towards the couch. “Suppose I should’ve just told you. I wanted it to be a surprise.” He unlocks his phone and scrolls until he finds the ad, handing it over to Jon.

His eyes immediately light up, alert and awake. “Cat!”

“Cat,” Martin agrees, settling down beside them. “We were thinking of getting one for the bookstore-”

“Of course,” Jon’s smiling that rare, bright grin and Martin melts just a little. “It’s only logical. And I do like black cats-”

“Damn it!” Gerry groans, startling them both. He throws his phone down on the couch, crossing his arms in a sulk. “Someone just claimed her. I knew I should’ve said something-”

But Jon’s already fishing his phone out, his smile not dimming in the slightest. “There’s a shelter not too far from here- I’ll see if we have to make an appointment. Martin, can you call Georgie? She’s got an excellent carrier for the Admiral, and she can probably recommend other necessities-”

They end up going to bed at midnight anyway.

________

“I still don’t see why we had to order so much,” Martin complains after another confirmation email lights up his phone. The credit card bill’s going to be astronomical this month. “Surely we’re overpreparing. We don’t have room for the deluxe cat tower in the shop, and we certainly don’t need one for the flat as well.”

“I assure you these are all necessities, Martin.” Gerry and Martin are both fairly tall, but even they have trouble keeping up with Jon’s brisk pace, sharing a fond look over his head. Jon managed to find them a Saturday appointment with a rather impressive combination of wheedling and charm. When it came to cats, Jon didn’t pull his punches. They made it to the shelter in record time and Jon burst through the doors, his next words full of self-importance. “We’re expected. Jonathan Sims.”

They’re led back to a large room by an amused assistant, Jon at the front of their little line. Martin watches as his eyes light up upon seeing the many cages that lined the wall; even Gerry seems a bit excited, though he tries to hide it by hanging back. Gerry’s never been much of an animal person; he shares Jon’s distaste of loud and jumpy dogs too unpredictable in their behavior. He only just started getting used to the Admiral, and that was through much prodding on Jon’s part. Jon’s love is surprisingly infectious.

Jon peers into each cage intently, answering every inquisitive noise with a prim “Pleased to meet you.” One of the first cages contains a fluffy brown cat with curious eyes and Martin stops to poke a finger through the door. “Walnut” (as provided by a helpful nameplate) does not respond, though she seems interested.

Jon’s already halfway down the row before he stops in his tracks, eyes trained on a large, grumpy ball of gray fur sitting right at the bars of the cage. He’s missing an eye, and he begins to growl as soon as Jon nears him.

“This one.” He declares, staring as if entranced. He hasn’t even touched it or attempted to pet it- they’re locked in some sort of silent standoff. Martin’s reminded of those romantic comedies Jon and Gerry hate, where couples lock eyes across the room and it's love at first sight. He surreptitiously takes a picture. Adorable.

“Jimmy?” The assistant inquires. Jon scoffs at the plainness of the name. “He’s been here awhile. Not very friendly, I’m afraid.”

“No, not Jimmy.” Jon offers up a hand, and the cat comes closer, sniffing at it with suspicion. After a few moments, he butts his head against Jon’s hand, earning a smile. “Lance Corporal.”

“No.”

Jon swivels around, eyes narrowing at Gerry’s words. It’s the first time he’s spoken and he’s got one eyebrow quirked up in amusement. It’s a good look on him. Jon, however, is having none of it and he puts a hand to his hip. “And why not?”

“It’s such a mouthful.” Martin has to agree; it doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. “I’m not going to call him that. What about Lance?”

Jon wrinkles his nose. “Ew.”

Martin sighs; Gerry and Jon get along like a house on fire but when they bicker, they bicker. He eyes the cat that’s now rubbing against Jon’s hand and purring; he hopes the its sudden geniality will extend to Martin and Gerry. Jon would pick a cat that’s just as prickly as he can be.

Martin gives it a good look, coming up beside Jon at ‘Jimmy’s’ cage. The cat immediately stops its gravely purr, it’s eye now trained on Martin. It’s unnerving, Martin never thought a cat could radiate authority but this one surely managed to. If any animal deserves a title, it’s this one. “What about the Captain?” he asks in a fit of inspiration.

They both turn to look at him; Gerry amused, Jon thoughtful. “Go on.”

“It’s a title, you always liked the naval ones.” Jon nods in agreement, the beginnings of a smile on his face. “He looks like an old sailor, very distinguished. I dunno, I think it’s cute.”

“The Captain,” Jon whispers in awe as the cat resumes rubbing against his hand. “Martin, that’s perfect. Inspired, even.”

He can’t help preening a bit. “Thank you.” Gerry rolls his eyes.

And then there’s the moment of truth- the assistant opens the cage door and Jon steps forward with all the solemnity of a man about to be knighted. He reaches out his arms and the cat lets itself be picked up, going limp as Jon brings it to his chest. He sighs in contentment, giving himself one more moment of bliss before he perks up and opens his eyes.

“Now pick yours.”

_________

Three. They’ve got three fucking cats.

Martin and Gerry immediately began to refuse, but Jon was insistent. “The Captain is obviously very partial to me, and I think you should have some say in who we adopt. If we each get one it eliminates any favoritism. It’s only logical.”

There was nothing logical about it. Three cats and three people in their tiny flat, or worse, destroying their bookstore. They didn’t have the space, the cats might not get along, it would be too expensive. But Jon wouldn’t hear of it, countering every point in a calmness that was borderline unnerving. Martin shot Gerry a pleading look; he’d gone silent after the initial refusal, content to let Martin do most of the arguing, but he just shook his head in amusement- he knew how this would end, and Martin did too. As the final nail in the coffin, Jon deployed the eyes and that’s how he found himself in the front of a taxi with a lapful of Walnut. She’s a friendly thing, instantly purring on contact and meowing whenever he turned away. Martin hadn’t the heart to turn it away.

Gerry took more time. He slunk around the cages and the cats seemed to sense his reluctance. But soon he came upon a small, sleek black cat, not unlike the one from the Facebook post. It was a tentative thing, barely coming to the edge of its cage to sniff at his fingers, but Gerry was determined, patiently waiting the fifteen minutes it took to get him to warm up. Martin didn’t point out the similarities between it and a certain goth, though he shared a knowing look with Jon.

“I’ve got it - the Unfathomable Void.”

“Dear God,” Martin muttered, rolling his eyes. So dramatic, the both of them.

Jon snorted. “That’s a bit much.”

“Okay, Lance Corporal.”

“Excuse me-!”

“Settle down, boys,” Martin put a hand on Jon’s shoulder, he looked liable to pounce. “If that’s what you want, go for it. But we’ll call him Void for short.” Gerry nodded, seemingly satisfied. Jon continued to scowl, though without any heat.

The cabbie was definitely not pleased at having to cart around three men and three cats. He muttered the entire drive while Jon bounced in the backseat, cooing at his companion. Gerry sat much more stoically, though Martin didn’t miss the tiny smile as the cat nipped at his fingers. Jon’s insistence on multiple supplies was starting to make sense now. He definitely planned this from the beginning, sneaky thing.

“Oh no,” Jon suddenly said upon entering their flat, struggling with the carrier in his hand. Martin’s starting to think he shouldn’t have picked such a massive cat. “I forgot this was for the bookstore!”

“Well, yeah.” Gerry sat his cage on the ground, kneeling down beside it. “I figured mine or Martin’s would do. The Captain’s not very friendly, Jon.”

“But what if they get lonely? We can’t split them up.” Jon’s eyes dart around the room, growing more conflicted by the second. “Perhaps we should keep them all at home.”

“There’s no room, Jon! And no one’s here during the day.” Martin surveys the room- the three carriers already seem to take up an enormous amount of space, not to mention the living creatures inside of them. And all of those packages, that damn tower…

“You can take them back and forth. Commute.”

“Christ, we did not think this through.” Gerry’s smiling even as he says it, watching as the Unfathomable Void slowly makes his way out, sniffing tentatively at the air. Walnut’s content to stay in her cage, and Martin tucks her in a corner away from the other two. Jon’s already got the Captain out, holding him in his arms and refusing to let him go.

“You’re right, we didn’t.” Jon agrees, tucking his face in the Captain’s fur. “We should’ve gotten four-”

“Fuck’s sake, Jon!”

“Let’s talk about this later, alright?” Gerry takes Martin’s place as the voice of reason, a rare occurrence. “We’ll keep them at home, let them get used to us, and then we’ll figure out the bookstore situation. No sense getting worked up about it now.” Jon sighs, cradling the mass of fur to his chest and plopping down on the couch. Martin’s sure they’ll be at it again tomorrow; Jon sniping as Martin tries and fails to put together a massive cat tower, Gerry groaning about whatever surprises the cats left for them in the morning. The next few weeks were going to be stressful, to say the least.

For now, though, he sits with his partners once again until midnight, watching their new additions roam about the flat and ignore each other. Jon frets, Gerry sighs, and Martin unsuccessfully attempts to steer the conversation towards anything but cats. By the end of the night, only Void manages to feel at home, curling up in Martin’s favorite armchair (much to his chagrin). Could’ve gone worse, Martin cheers himself with. They’ll get used to the flat. And the bookstore. Probably.

Later that night, once their partner’s asleep and snoring softly between the two of them, Martin turns to Gerry, borrowing Jon’s patented sigh.

“We’re gonna get a fourth cat, aren’t we?”

Gerry’s voice is just as resigned. “Yeah, reckon so.”

“Christ.”

-------

Others in the JGM series:

What We’re Given and What We Make

At the End of the Day

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945809

#my writing #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #gerry keay #jongerrymartin #jonmartin #jongerry #gerrymartin #christ this is a lot of tags #pointless fluff honestly #but fun #when i picture jon's smile in this fic its messisauce's art tbh #you know the one

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leviiattacks · 3 years

Note

your angst is really good and i wanted to may i request guard levi and princess reader, they have an affair because they end up falling in love but one day levi can’t protect her because he takes his eyes off her and idk the plot i just felt like crying today and i need a reason so just something angsty😭

note :: i saw this and really wanted to write something but i’m not really sure if i did well it’s shorter than what i normally write but hopefully i did some justice to your request. requests are open so feel free to drop by again and request if you want to !!

++ might make this into an actual fic perhaps,,, minus the dying and what not but guard levi is a very interesting concept to me hmm

warnings :: blood, death, infidelity

No one knows or is able to understand why or how Levi is having such a hard time coping with your death. You are the princess of the nation and he, your guard. Nothing more, nothing less.

At least that’s what everyone else in the Kingdom thinks.

Every night he greets your book shelf like a mad man. Well, it’s all he has to remember you by, why would he ever let it go with ease?

"What you reading? Another sappy romance novel?" He's poked his head from a corner and you grin up at him telling him that you are indeed indulging in another piece of romantic fiction.

For an unknown reason dread fills his gut when he meets your smile, that's never happened before.

It's a bad omen, a sign that he's fallen but is in denial, refutation, rejection, contradiction whatever it is he can't find an appropriate word for it. All he knows is he'll regret this later. He doesn't know why but the sinking feeling in his stomach is an indication that this forbidden romance the two of you share in secrecy will go South.

It’s silent apart from your humming.

"Levi... can you promise me you'll live a long happy life?" The out of place question is worrying. Another premonition and he opens his mouth to voice his concern. However your gaze lingers on his face telling him to not cause a dispute, not right now.

"If you promise me the same, then yes My Lady."

Looking away you're awake but distant. "We are in privacy. You may use my name Levi."

"And, I don't know if I can live a long and happy life. I can try." The slow confession only makes his heart race uncomfortably.

He sighs sitting beside you, your shoulders rub against his. "Then I retract my previous statement. I cannot possibly live a happy life when the princess is discontent."

You flail your arms around, hands are flapping in front of your chest in an attempt to convince him to not think so foolishly.

He narrows his eyes. Expression unreadable, a mix of frustration, maybe even premature grief. It's enough to coax an agreement out of you.

"Very well, I promise to live happy."

Fists clenching your bed sheets he damns himself to Hell for ignoring his instincts. For putting your life in jeopardy all for his own temporary satisfaction.

His forehead hits the plush duvet and he inhales the linen hoping that your smell lingers, hoping that the vanilla is still present. Hoping there’s something left to prove he hasn’t made you up. He fears he’ll forget your scent, your voice, your touch. He fears he’ll forget it all.

If he had followed orders, never let himself grow emotionally involved perhaps you would still be here. Perhaps, if he didn't lead you astray and convince you to betray royalty by pursuing what the two of you shared, maybe just maybe you would still be alive and well.

He'll end up in damnation for all the pain and suffering he's caused you, He curses himself every day for having the nerve to fall in love with a member of Royalty.

No matter how well respected or how strong he was in the military he never had the power to protect you from the political turmoil your family was submerged in. He wasn't of Royal blood, there was nothing he could do to protect you.

One of you would die first, and die you did.

He assumes he was made to suffer through that bleak, unwelcoming night for a reason. That's why he had to see the enemy take you away from him, he needed to be given a reality check.

Royalty and commoners are worlds apart for a reason.

You scream at the world as you call for him, shrieking as the blade erupts from your stomach. It’s throbbing and strumming in vengeance. The contents of your belly become one with the floor but the pungent stench isn't enough to pry Levi away from you. The air is quickly fogging up with the scent of your blood and insides. You whimper, you cry, you sob staring at the heavens.

"You are not dying on me, You can't be dying on me, I won't let you die on me. We haven't said goodbye properly, you can't just-"

"Yes I can Levi. I am not immortal." There you are laughing as you wilt in his arms, you disregard the emptiness you feel, you need to comfort him. Withering away isn't an option for now.

Frantically attempting to staunch the wound to no avail Levi is distraught when he feels you slipping away from him. "You promised to live a long happy life." He murmurs in betrayal, his eyes are glazed over in complete shock.

Panting out of exhaustion and pressing down firmer he's pleading you to not let go of him just yet.

You watch him unravel above you, eyes squeezed shut, he’s lurching forward burying the sounds that want to escape from his chest so badly.

Your shaking hands travel to his cheeks cupping them gently and you draw hesitant circles into his cold skin.

Levi’s tears fall and you sense the dampness coat your fingertips.

"If you were paying attention you would know I promised to live happy Levi, not live long."

You broke the promise, an early death is not dying happy.

He's stunned, he should’ve known you’d pull something like that.

"You made me the happiest Levi."

He thinks that’s a lie.

You break under the pressure and finally admit how you feel.

"I'm scared, what if we never-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, we will do what we've planned. I promise." He growls assertive in his point of view.

But, you know it's too late. Placing his unsteady hand above your heart you let your other hand fall from his face. The energy is being drained out of you quicker than expected.

"I dreamt about you last night, dreamt we could be happy.” You hack and gasp desperately for breath but much to Levi’s horrified gaze the blood only trickles down your chin. “I hope we reunite whether that be in the afterlife if that place is real or in another life entirely. We will become lovers but we can't indulge in that luxury right now."

"No, no, no. Shut up, stop talking you're wasting your breath you need to-"

"I love you Levi, please live happily for me."

Then you are limp.

His eyes shoot open as the scene draws to an end. Yet another nightmare has plagued him, one where he is reminded of your passing.

The title of murderer is self appointed, he holds himself responsible for taking his eyes off you. It gave your assassin the perfect window of opportunity to strike, it had been enough to take you out like a faltering light.

Sometimes as he drinks into the night trying to forget it all. He wonders if everything would be different if he had kept his love for you locked away.

Would you still be alive and married to that other man whilst he would have to watch on in pain?

But nothing would be more painful than now, he’d rather watch that instead of accept that you are long gone.

Would you still be alive and forced to bed your horrible fiancé?

Would you carry that man’s children?

He hates himself for confessing and telling you how he felt. He despises that you had to suffer for his sin.

But, that’s the issue with love. It had made the danger in Levi look like safety to you and it had made the danger in you look like peace to Levi.

There are reasons why a guard and his princess should never mingle.

After all, they are worlds apart for a reason.

#levi #levi ackerman #aot #snk #attack on titan #attack on titan levi #aot fanfiction #aot headcanons #levi headcanons #guard levi #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi angst #levi fanfiction #leviiattacks #levi scenario #this probably isn't that good so i'm sorry anon T____T

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eleanorbloom · 3 years

Text

Moonlight: Part One.

Disclaimer: Open Heart and most of the characters are owned by Pixelberry. Matilde is a creation of mine.

Book/Pairing: Open Heart / Bryce Lahela x F! MC (Matilde Luna)

Word Count: 1.9k Warnings/Rating: Few curse words/Teen.

Author's Note: I must confess I'm scared AF of sharing this with you. First POV is a challenge. Matilde has a whole different personality compared to Eleanor. And with her I'll share some of my deepest struggles and insecurities. That's why it took me so many months to finally realease this story to the world. Anyway, hope you enjoy it ❤

Taglist: @dalishessence @curiousconch @chocopeppermintcake @utterlyinevitable @secretaryunpaid @kachrisberry @romereadingshop @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Let me know if you wanna be added to my taglist!

______

Part One. Encounter with the Sun.

When you spend so much time in the darkness, it's inevitable to feel blinded by the light.

It’s dazzling.

You don’t see anything at first, your eyes hurt. They burn.

Then, when you’re able to detect the things around you, you feel good, even amazed by the new perspective, the colors, the depths, the lengths, the shining. The new world before you.

After a while, however, you feel overwhelmed by it. By the spotlight that gives you. How observed and judged you feel and how out of place you realize you are.

So you miss your old friend, the darkness. The intimacy of it. How it covers your flaws, your fears, your insecurities, your lackings. Your secrets. The secrets you don’t even know you’re keeping.

When you're invisible it's just you and your deepest thoughts and desires. No exposition, no need to cover your flaws, or make an effort to fit in.

You're safe from the constant awkwardness for feeling different.

That’s what happened to me when I met Bryce Lahela. His light dazzled me. It made me see the world bright, as I'd never seen it before.

But soon I realized it wasn’t for me. I belong to the darkness, and there’s not so much a person from the darkness can do with a person with so much light like him.

Or that's what I thought.

It was my first day of Residency when I met him, walking hurriedly to the locker room, covered in blood and lost in my thoughts. Orientation with the new interns was about to start in five minutes, so I couldn’t show up with my scrubs stained with blood from the Thoracotomy I just had done.

I was so deep in my thoughts and worries that I didn’t realize there was someone around the corner of the lockers until I bumped directly into him, my face almost burying on his toned, bare chest if it wasn’t because he had quicker reflexes than me.

“Woah there,” he said, surprised, and then his firm hands grabbed me by the arms.

“Sh…” I stopped instantly, reminding myself I was in my workplace, so I couldn’t be cursing as I pleased, much less in front of a person I hadn't met before.

“Damn, I’m…” I tried to say instead, but as I looked up, my words choked in my throat.

Damn indeed.

A pair of brown eyes looked at me curiously but warmly. But damn, damn, damn. He was handsome, so handsome it seemed like a hallucination.

Fuck, people can be this handsome in real life? I thought, as I was taking in the sight of him: dashing broad smile, eyes wrinkling in a playful grin. And all that was complemented with toned, perfect abs, illegal triceps, and divine hair. I could swear my hair never looked that gorgeous.

But the way he looked at me, even casually, was disarming. Just one look and he had me all inspected. And for some reason, I couldn't stop staring at him. There was something hypnotizing about him. Inevitable.

“Are you okay?” he asked a few moments later, as he noticed my speechlessness.

I blushed instantly. Oh my god, how much I stared at him like an idiot?

“Or are you already getting all the fun without even starting your shift yet?”

I sighed, thanking internally that he was talking about the blood on my scrubs and not about my embarrassing loss for words because of his appearance.

“I’m sorry, yes,” I said, shaking my head as I kept walking toward my locker, my cheeks flushing in a beet red in a matter of seconds, “Just a thoracotomy in the waiting room, that’s all.”

He chuckled as I was opening my locker to put my things inside, ignoring the anxiety washing over me slowly.

“Way to start the year, are you new too?”

“Y… Yeah,” I stuttered, begging internally he wasn’t looking directly at me at that moment. I didn't dare to check if it was the case.

By this point, I was used to changing clothes in front of lots of strange people, but it was always difficult doing it for the first time in a new place, so I tried to overcome my self-consciousness and simply tugged my stained scrubs out, ignoring the fact that he could see my curvy body in my simple black underwear.

After a lot of effort, I was a couple of years past feeling embarrassed by my body. I had finally accepted it the way it was -way off commercial beauty standards: chubby, fluffy, full of stretch marks and cellulitis-, but coming to terms with the fact that other people wouldn't think the same is completely different. There are always looks and awkward smiles, sometimes opinions. So this time I couldn’t help but feel a little shy about it, much more considering how handsome and sporty he was. It made me feel judged even if he wasn’t even judging me at all.

“Internal medicine?” he asked once I was with my fresh scrubs on. I turned around and found him with green scrubs instead, leaning against the lockers with a relaxed smile. There wasn't anything uncomfortable about his features.

“Yup,” I said sharply, giving him a quick glance before sitting down to lace up my black Chuck Taylors.

But then I felt the strange need to say something more.

I don't know why.

Any other day I would've replied and then acted like that conversation never happened. I hate small talk. But there was something that persuaded me to ask him something in return. Maybe it was the fact that I wasn’t expecting he would keep talking to me. Maybe I just wanted to repay the kindness. He could've just ignored me but he didn't.

“You?”

“Surgery,” he said grinning, fixing his hair with enviable naturality.

Oh, of course. Of course the living embodiment of Adonis would be a surgical bro. I should've known.

I couldn't help but chuckle as I shook my head.

“What?” He asked, with a puzzled look.

“Nothing,” I assured, still smirking while I was closing my bag before putting it back inside my locker.

“If you say so,” he shrugged before standing straight and checking his watch, “Are you ready? We can go to the Atrium together if you want. Considering we’re going to the same place.”

I froze in place for a moment.

I never expected something like that.

First, to interact with someone in my first hour at the hospital. Socializing wasn’t my forte so this felt like I was doing my first friend at playschool, even if this would bethe first and last time I'd talk to him in my life.

Second, to keep interacting with him after the usual pleasantries. He could’ve just greeted me and then done as nothing happened. Like I would’ve done it if it wasn't because my brain was pushing me to talk to him.

Third, that he would want to keep interacting with me despite how weird I acted and that I somewhat laughed at his face a few seconds ago.

“Y-Yeah, sure,” I said trying to conceal the slight shaking in my voice, and followed him outside the room.

“I’m Bryce Lahela, by the way,” he added, extending his hand to me as we started walking towards the exit.

“Matilde Luna,” I said in response, shaking his hand. His caramel skin felt smooth and warm on my palm.

“Nice to meet you, Matilde Luna. You have a really beautiful name.”

“Your name is pretty nice too,” I said without thinking too much of it, in my effort to hold the conversation even if I didn’t know what else to say.

When I turned to look at him, I could swear the ghost of a sad smile was concealed behind his -seemingly- signature smirk.

I frowned, wondering why that was. It was just a compliment to his name, how could I be wrong about something so simple as that?

But a moment later, that sadness was gone. As if it never happened, he grinned at me again.

“Do you have any friends or acquaintances from Med School here?” he broke the silence again, as we were reaching the stairs.

“I… I actually don’t know much,” I confessed, looking directly on the staircases before me. I couldn't care less about my classmates, honestly, but at that moment I felt bad for not knowing. Maybe guilty for my indifference. “I think a guy is in Peds and another girl is in Neuro?”

“Where are you from?”

“U-Dub. Washington.”

“Ah, cold and rainy. You won’t suffer too much with the climate here then.”

“Yup, I like it rainy.”

“You’re nuts!” He exclaimed, with an overacted shocked expression.

“Oh, let me guess why the gratuitous insult, you're from California, right?”

Bryce turned to me, perplexed, “Guilty as charged, what gave me away?”

“Mmm besides your tan and your surfer highlights?”

“Ouch, talk about gratuitous insults!”

“Just payback, ” I laughed heartily, “No, actually it’s your accent. I did my undergrad in Berkeley.”

“Oh,” he chuckled, “Makes sense.”

“Which part of Cali?”

“Stanford.”

Surgical bro from Stanford. La crème de la crème. Why was he even talking to me?

Just he replied, we entered the Atrium and found interns of all sorts of specialties gathered around place, waiting for the Chief to make her appearance.

My stomach churned at the huge amount of people before me. All these new people I'd have to meet and work with. To deal with.

But it didn't matter. If this was the price I had to pay to do what I love, to make her proud, so be it.

I took a deep breath, psyching myself to what was about to come, “This is for you, mama.”

And just the thought of her seemed to soothe whatever anxiety I was feeling at that moment.

“Well, Matilde Luna,” Bryce announced, after both observed the crowd in silence for a couple of seconds, “Time to meet my competition now. Good luck with yours.”

I looked up at him instantly, surprised by the slight tremor concealed in his voice. But there was nothing there. Bryce was already grinning at me, his caramel skin glistening against the morning sunlight. Melting as if they were just the same thing. But I could tell his smile wasn't reaching his eyes as before.

“Thank you, you too, ” I said as I watched him striding toward a group in green scrubs, each step taken with resolve.

But after a few feet, he stopped and slowly turned in my direction, a twinkle of honey piercing directly at me, “See ya later? ” he quizzed.

I arched an eyebrow at his question.

See ya later.

And made an effort not to snort.

With the sea of interesting people in this hospital, you won’t even remember my face by the end of the day, so don’t bother.

But I played along, it was the least he deserved for being so friendly with me that morning.

“See ya later,” I promised, convinced it was in vain. This would be the last time I would exchange words with him.

At that moment, though, I couldn’t even imagine how wrong I would be.

----

Thank you so much for reading!!!

#bryce lahela #open heart #playchoices #bryce lahela x mc #bryce x mc #open heart fic #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #open heart fanfic #choices #choices stories you play #oh choices #pixelberry

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

In My Dreams IV

Characters: Xiao, fm!reader

Word Count: 3,167

Warnings: Brief depiction of violence, nightmares

Premise: The past is many things. Something to admire, something to learn from, something to hold dear. And yet how unreliable it can be, especially in the hands of ghosts.

In which the reader dreams of the past.

Author’s Note: Translation notes and historical references will come after the fic. This one was a little sketchy/ooc, prolly because I’m tired.

Xiao

If there was one thing that you appreciated most about your relationship with Xiao it was the fact that he never attempted to cage your independence.

Though the adeptus had a penchant for clinginess – something he’d never actually admit to – the circumstances of both his and your past had set a standard for a level of separation that you greatly appreciated. You were never pressured to tell Xiao about things you weren’t comfortable sharing and in return you never pressed your partner in regards to topics or events that made him somewhat uncomfortable.

And yet there was something very isolating about such a freedom.

It was an ordinary enough commission, laughably so in fact, the kind that you could knock back in ten minutes flat if you put a little effort into it. Treasure Hoarders were once more encroaching on Liyue, this time gathering at the vicinity of Dunyu Ruins, something that would surely be a hazard to the archaeologists who gathered to study the lost jade monument. The act of chasing out the Treasure Hoarders was indeed easy enough, and it was only until you started rifling through their loot that you found yourself uneasy.

The lid was an innocuous enough item. Though the box that it once covered was nowhere to be found it must’ve been a work of art, as the smooth tortoiseshell lid was clearly the result of patience and love. Painted a deep blue it depicted a snowy scene, with a castle or cathedral at the front and center. The building itself was of a unique design; a tall turret stuck out at the top while small onion domes sat a little lower, each painted a more outlandish color than the last. The architecture was completely unlike what one might see in either Liyue or Mondstadt, and really there should’ve been nothing to it except the odd design of the building. Yet the moment you set your eyes upon the building you felt something harden in the pit of your stomach.

You never thought about what you couldn’t remember; after all, what was the point of it? Why mourn something you weren’t even sure was good or bad? Yet in that moment you felt that you would give very little to not remember just a little bit. At least enough to know why the image of a cathedral in the snow made you wish deeply for something you couldn’t remember, and frightened you just as much.

“Something’s wrong with you face.”

“Xiao!” You sputtered, surprised by the sudden bluntness of your partner. “My face is just fine, a little dirt won’t kill me.”

“That’s not it.” Xiao scowled. “Your face is harder than usual. Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened! Sometimes I just don’t smile, okay?” You instinctively moved the corners of your mouth upwards, trying to ignore the sudden jump in your heart rate. “I’m fine.”

Xiao looked supremely unimpressed at your efforts, sighing and flying up to the balcony of the Inn. You sighed, letting your expression once more droop. It was easy sometimes to forget how in tune Xiao was. You wouldn’t expect it from an adeptus who had spent thousands of years mostly secluded from humans, but your partner was impressively good at reading your mood. Usually you didn’t mind the ability of his, even welcoming the fact that he so bluntly brought up the question of your feelings. But today you wished despite yourself that he was a little less aware. After all, how could you explain to your partner what you didn’t even understand yourself?

The rest of the night was oddly tense. Though Xiao said nothing you could tell from the way he stared intently at your face that he hadn’t given up his suspicions. For your part you tried to ignore his gaze, talking about trivial matters such as the question of replacing the Guild roof and the fact that you had managed to gather a few Qingxin during your commissions. All the while you felt the roiling of your heart; and all the while you kept rubbing your fingers along the smooth finish of the lid in your pocket as if in doing so you might suddenly be struck with what you currently missed and currently, desperately, needed.

The next day you walked up to Katherine utterly exhausted. Though you’d made a concerted effort to sleep, knowing that if not you’d just arouse more worry in Xiao, most of the night had been spent tossing and turning, your eyelids feeling paper thin as you attempted to drag yourself down into the depths of sleep. Of course now that the sun was shining you felt like even a stone bench would be a soft enough mattress. Blinking heavily you smiled awkwardly at Katheryne.

“Any commissions today?”

“Two ordinary sweeps and one request.” Katheryne tilted her head slightly. “Are you sure you don’t need rest?”

“I’m perfectly fine Katheryne, thank you for worrying. You said there was a request?”

“Yes. It seems that the citizen who noticed the Treasure Hoarders for us claims to have been robbed by them. He says to meet you at Dunyu Ruins so you can hand over the item.”

“And what item is that?”

“He said it was some sort of box lid. He didn’t give many details I’m sorry. If you’re uncomfortable though of course we could send someone with you.”

“I’ll be fine, thanks for worrying.”

“Of course! Good luck!”

“Thanks.”

You turned around, trying to stem the ice that flooded your veins. Who was this man to whom the cathedral belonged? How did he come across such an odd item, was he from one of the other nations of Teyvat you hadn’t visited? Most of all you wondered if he held some connection to your past. The idea thrilled you in some way, though dread also lingered. You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to meet this mysterious person. Commissions were commissions however; you wouldn’t betray the Guild. No matter how much you wanted to; you couldn’t.

The Dunyu Ruins were still, no monsters seemed to linger at the gates and no other adventurers peeked out from behind old walls. The air was utterly still, something which worried you greatly. Walking at an increased rate you sought out your mysterious commissioner. The more you thought about it the more you wished the whole thing to be over as soon as possible. Turning the corner you stopped in your tracks, gazing in awe at the person a few meters in front of you.

The first thing you thought was how oddly he was dressed. The second thing was that he was much younger than you had expected. The third thing was that you felt an odd sense of familiarity from him.

“Ah yes, the adventurer who accepted my commission. Have you brought what I asked of you?”

Though a response was certainly in order you found the words stuck in your mouth. Staring at him you felt the ground shift between your feet slightly. He was familiar, this young man in front of you, and yet he was also a perfect stranger. He seemed more like an apparition than anything, a spirit who had yet to cross to the far side. You stepped closer, reaching out your arm slightly. If you went to touch his shoulder, would your fingers go right through him?

“You really must think it’s odd that I’ve returned.” The man chuckled. “I assure you I’m completely real. You weren’t the only one to survive sister, though I know that information might be too little too late?”

“Sister?” You snapped out of your trance. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Surely you aren’t pretending not to recognize me? I think that’s beneath even you. Come now, was I such a brat as that?” Reaching out the young man went to grab your hand. Instinctively you pulled away, feeling discomfort shoot through you.

“I don’t know what you mean? And you certainly aren’t my brother! I’ve never had a brother!”

“Then who was the kid you lived with your whole life before the incident?”

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know about any incident or any brother. You asked me here to return something so I’m returning it.” Reaching for the lid you thrust the little work of art in front of you. “Here. Take it.”

“So you really don’t know who I am?” The young man reached out to take the lid. “How is that possible? Have they gone so far as to erase me from your memories? Have I been taken out of your family?”

“They?”

“The gods.” The young man’s eyes seemed incredibly harsh all of a sudden. “Their presumptiveness holds no bounds.”

“Don’t speak of the archons that way.”

“Answer me this,” the young man ignored your protest, “where are you from.”

“Why should I tell you that?”

“Humor me.”

“I…” You stood there for a moment, wondering whether or not you should tell this strange figure the truth. Morbid curiosity floated in your mind, and you took a sharp breath. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

“So I really have been erased from your mind.”

“Nothing’s been erased! I just don’t remember, should that surprise you so much?”

“Yes, it does. I see my plans will have to be changed.” The young man took a deep breath. “Very well then, we shall see what we shall see. I have an offer for you.”

“And what is that?” You felt suspicion wash over you.

“Join the Abyss.”

“Over my dead body!” Instinctively stepping away you drew your polearm. So that’s what this was about.

“I figured you might say that. However, let me tell you this. Our family was torn apart by the cruel whims of faraway gods. Teyvat suffered the same fate, still suffers it. You may not remember what happened to us, but I know it is buried in you somewhere. If you wish to avenge our family, then you’ll join us.”

“I have no petty thoughts of revenge against the gods.”

“That may very well change.” The young man smirked. “I’ll be back in a week. I expect your answers then.”

He was gone before you could say anything, carried away by a blanket of purple stars. You stared at the empty ruins, confused and empty, feeling far worse than you had felt when you arrived here.

“You look worse.”

“Thanks Xiao.” You let out a sigh, unsure how to respond.

You’d spent the rest of the walk back to the Wangshu Inn in agony, thoughts darting back and forth as you tried to reason with yourself about the veracity of the young man’s claims. There was no proof he was who he said he was after all, no proof that he wasn’t simply insane, or trying to convince you to join him by lying. Yet there was something about him, his demeanor, his anger, something that spoke to a truth about him. Not that the idea made you any happier. After all truth or not, he was still an Abyss member, or at least an advocate. You could never side with him, even if he was your long lost family. And yet what if he was your family? What then? Would it truly be a betrayal then to simply send him packing?

Xiao’s hand enveloped your own, the soft warmth drawing you out of your confused thoughts. Looking up you found him leaning into you, the tips of his hair lightly brushing your cheeks. His eyes bored into you ask he scanned your face. You stood perfectly still. You knew what Xiao was doing, knew that he was trying to figure out the depths of your discomfort. It was valiant of him, even if you hoped that he turned up empty handed. How could you tell Xiao, an adeptus who served directly under Rex Lapis, about the man who blasphemed the gods.

“You should sleep.” Xiao finally pulled away.

“It’s still early evening.”

“You didn’t sleep well last night, I could tell. You should sleep now; maybe you’ll feel better.”

“Maybe.” You replied, knowing that even if you slept better than you had ever before nothing would change when you woke up.

Still your eyelids were heavy and your feet aching. Sleep beckoned you with open arms, and you were quick to fall into its depths. Pressing a soft kiss on Xiao’s cheek you made your way up the stairs. Collapsing onto your bed you let out a sigh of relief. Sleep was coming on fast, and you quickly found the outside world swirling away. The last thing you were aware of was a dent in your mattress, and a set of familiar eyes staring down at you, filled with affection and worry.

It was dreadfully hot. That was the first thing you were aware of. The second was how loud everything was. There was a terrible sound swirling around you, inhuman shrieks seemed to rise up from the ground beneath you, accompanied with a banging that cracked through the air, echoing oddly in a night that was all too quiet. The third thing was that you had no idea where you were. Looking around you found yourself reeling at the scene that met your eyes. The house in front of you must’ve been nice at some point, but now had fallen into ruin and disrepair. Smoke was drifting up from a door that led into the ground, and bottles lay in pieces on the ground. A wall seemed to separate the house from the outside world, so tall that you had no idea what lay beyond it. Trembling slightly you felt yourself move towards the source of the noise, feet moving despite the rising dread that you felt. Making your way down a set of stairs a few lines came to you all of a sudden.

A ceiling of amber, a pavement of pearl

The smoke was thicker now, filling your lungs, leaving you short of breath. Little bits of orange blurred your vision, wielded by strange men in strange uniforms. They seemed distorted in the smoke, made into ghosts that might haunt a child’s nightmares.

Through the narrow paved streets, where all was still

You didn’t move your head towards the back of the room, somehow you couldn’t. Your very soul fought against it. Instead you closed your eyes, overwhelmed with how hot it was.

“You’ve come so far and you can’t even look?”

The voice was mocking, familiar, full of scorn. Opening your eyes you stared at the men in front of you, the men with fire at the tips of their hands. Why did he want you to look? You knew what you’d see. Somehow you knew.

We climb’d on the graves, on the stone worn with rains

You couldn’t make it out among the smoke. All you knew was that it was red.

You screwed your eyes shut, even as sudden clarity danced before you. Someone was calling your name.

There was a hand on your shoulder.

And alone dwell forever

The smoke cleared, and with it the dream.

The scream ripped through your throat before you could even process it. You knew that you should stop, knew that you were no longer dreaming, knew that the hand on your shoulder belonged to your terrified partner. Still you screamed. You screamed and screamed and screamed.

“Hey. Hey!” Xiao’s voice was frantic. Shifting your gaze towards him you felt yourself begin to tremble.

“It, it was true. It was true, I saw him. I saw him. I saw me. It was true. I, I, they’re dead. They’re dead.”

“It was a dream. No one’s dead.”

“But Xiao, they’re dead. He was right, they’re gone and dead and somehow I forget them.”

The loneliness slammed into you, mixing with the horror that sent your stomach churning. You dug you nails into your palm, desperately trying to stop shaking. Everything seemed distorted, the light emerging through the window just as menacing as the dark.

“Take my hand.”

Xiao pulled one of your hands on his lap, gently opening it and running his fingers over the marks that now rested in your palms. Unfurling your hand you it was flat against his he covered it with his own. Letting his palm rest gently against yours he looked up at you.

“No one is dead. You were having a nightmare.”

“I was remembering, Xiao. I finally remembered something. And now I wish I never had.” You unfurled your other hand, wiping furiously at the tears that pooled in your eyes. “I’m so alone Xiao, I’m so alone.”

“You aren’t alone.”

“My family, my family is gone. The only one left is an Abyss member. I, I’m so utterly alone.”

You felt Xiao drop your hand slightly. The sudden lost connection made your founder for a moment, but soon the feeling was lost as Xiao wrapped his arms around you. Pressing kisses to your forehead his grip was tight and strong, encasing you utterly in soft comfort. Letting yourself collapse slightly you leaned into his embrace.

“You’ll never be alone. I’ll always be here.”

If promises were conveyed in actions then you had no reason to doubt Xiao’s. Though the air around you was sticky with heat you found yourself pressing into your partner’s chest eyes more, soaking up every bit of connection that you could get. Xiao said nothing more, simply keeping you in his embrace, lips brushing against your cheeks as he kissed away your tears.

You knew that he wouldn’t ask about your brother that night, perhaps not even the morning afterwards, or even tomorrow evening. After all your partner wasn’t one for words, and your relationship wasn’t built upon the expectation of painful transparency. If you weren’t ready to talk he wouldn’t push you.

Eventually your tears slowed, though the pain in your chest still burned like a brand. Bringing your hands to your chest you gazed up at the adeptus who was still wrapped around you.

“Can we stay this way a little longer?”

Xiao’s eyes gleamed catlike in the moonlight. Leaning down he brushed his lips against yours, sighing slightly as you met him with exhausted ardor. Pulling back you rested your head on your partner’s chest. The dulled beat seemed almost musical, a reminder that Xiao was alive, a reminder that he was right next to you.

You had assumed in some way that it meant he didn’t care, or didn’t want to know. Though you would’ve never thought that before, the feeling of loneliness that had threatened to swallow you up had made that perfectly clear. Yet Xiao did care, cared enough not to prod and poke at wounds that were surely bleeding even now. Cared enough to kiss your worries away, cared enough to let you embrace him as long as you needed. Cared enough to show that you weren’t truly alone.

In a week you’d give the young man who had once been your brother an answer. In a week you’d face the fact of your loneliness, of a family that you’d once been a part of. In a week you would let yourself be truly lonely. But until then you would listen to the familiar beat of Xiao’s heart as you remembered that you weren’t truly alone. That you never would be.

-------

The box lid itself was based off nothing in particular. The building painted on it is a reference to Saint Basil’s Cathedral.

The poem I used was “The Forsaken Merman” by Matthew Arnold

The scene in the reader’s dream is a reference to the execution of the last Imperial family of Russia. It took place in the basement of the Ipatiev House in Ekaterinburg on July 17th/18th 1918.

#genshin impact fanfiction #xiao #xiao x reader #genshin impact #genshin xiao #requested #scenarios #my writing #sorry mistagged as gn out of habit first jme

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yandere-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Title: Collared.

Pairing: Yandere!Malleus/Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Synopsis: Malleus’ biggest mistake was treating you as a lover would, rather than as a captor. Unfortunately, his patience is limited, and he can only spend so much time waiting for you to adjust before he resorts to stricter methods.

TW: Graphic Violence, Burning, Mentions Of Blood, Implied Kidnapping, Prolonged Imprisonment, Unhealthy Relationships, Slight Bondage, Use Of Morally-Grey Magic, Emotional Manipulation, and Slight Victim-Blaming.

Your head was beginning to hurt.

It was the pressure, more than anything, the weight of a crown that you’d never wanted to wear, a crown that hadn’t been designed to accommodate someone without horns or wings or enough strength to make the strain bearable. It was a beautiful piece, objectively, a gift from a diplomat hoping to establish a relationship with Malleus shortly after his coronation, but the jewels were heavy, carved into ornate shapes and perched on top of needle-thin peaks, and although you’d been enthralled by the idea of wearing something that looked as delicate as ice, that swirled in impossible ways and curved angles human hands wouldn’t be able to attempt to achieve, the thin base dug into your scalp, and fashion in the Valley of Thorns was so layered, so limiting, the tiara only served as another annoyance you had to bear, another thing to push the air from your lungs and make your vision blur and force you onto the line between discomfort and active agony.

You’d tried to remove it while he met with his advisors, while Malleus spoke and all the attention was on him rather than his disagreeable human companion, but he’d caught you by the wrist the moment you tried, forcing your hand back into your lap before any of his courtiers could notice you’d move. He’d always been particular about the way you presented yourself, in front of him, in front of your subjects. It might’ve been because he took so much pride in doting on you, insisting on dressing you himself every morning and interpreting any refusal as willful disobedience. He might’ve just enjoyed making sure you were as aware of the power he had over you as he was. The latter was more likely, knowing the demeanor he’d taken on after he’d whisked you away to his kingdom, after he’d taken the throne and all the power in the county, with it. That would explain why he felt the need to keep an arm draped over your shoulders, now.

It would explain why he wouldn’t let go, despite your attempts to shake him off.

“They don’t mean you any harm,” He muttered, the voice kept low in order to escape the notice of his guards, trailing after him like ever-present shadows. “No one in this castle wants to see you suffer. You don’t have a reason to act as if they do.”

No one wanted to see you suffer, expect him. Malleus always seemed to forget that, when looking for the source of your irritation. “Everyone here treats me like your consort.”

There was a blink, then another. You could’ve groaned. “But, (Y/n), you are my consort--”

“Not because I want to be.” It was a hollow mantra, something you’d said time and time again. At your side, Malleus grimaced, and you tried to walk a little faster, fixing your eyes on the stone floor to avoid the concerned glances of the guards. “I’m a prisoner here, Malleus. Nothing you try to do will make me less of a prisoner, not when your methods are so…” You trailed off, letting out a heavy sigh. “Not when everything you do is so confining.”

“Everything I do, I do because I care for you,” He explained, taking on that indignant, scolding aire you’d always hated. He was never careless, but he’d never been so richeous, either. Not until he’d gotten an excuse to be. “If you think of yourself as a prisoner, there’s nothing I can do to remedy--”

It was moment of impulse, more of a fleeting idea than a genuine question. You might’ve regretted asking it at all, if something in the back of your head hadn’t started hammering against your skull at the thought of carrying on this conversation. “If I wanted to, would you let me leave?”

There was a slight pause, an alien silence as he stopped moving, his arm falling from your shoulders. “It would destroy me,” He mumbled, by way of excuse. “I don’t know if I’d be able to go on if you--”

“Would I be able to leave?” This time, you tried to be more forceful, more instant, but it came out wrong, brash, frustrated. One of the more devoted members of Malleus’ entourage took half a step towards you, but he was quickly waved off. “Would you let me go, or would you stop me?”

It was his turn to sigh, now. Somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to pity him. “If it came to that, I wouldn’t have another choice, my love.”

That was all you needed to hear. By now, Malleus’ guards knew better than to stop you, only separating and letting you pass, your pace now fervid and your hand already in your hair, tearing at your crown, working at clasps and combs until the ornament came free and you could hear stone collide with metal, until it hit the floor and shattered, falling apart more suddenly than something so finely made should. “Then I’m a prisoner,” You snapped, not bothering to spare him a second glance as you fled down the hall. “And I don’t see a reason to listen to my captor’s advice.”

He didn’t move to follow you, and for once, you were thankful for his disregard.

At least you’d be able to deal with his scorn from a distance, for the rest of the day.

Your wrist was going to be sore, tomorrow.

If you were being honest with yourself, it was your own fault. You’d agitated him, and by bringing up the fact that you didn’t want to be here, that you didn’t love him, you’d made him paranoid, jealous, clingy, in the way a predator might cling to prey it couldn’t bring itself to kill. It must’ve comforted him, to keep a hand pressed against the small of you back or an arm around your waist, a fist wrapped around your forearm and his pointed, painted nails burrowed so far into your skin, you were scared he might draw blood if you tried to pull away. You should’ve been used to it, by now, the possessive way he held you. You’d had more than enough time to learn to tolerate it.

You’d had more than enough time, but that was part of the problem, wasn’t it?

You’d had more than enough time to come to terms with how little you wanted to tolerate it.

To your credit, you didn’t try to tear yourself away from him, not at first. All you did was slow down, tripping over your own feet on the uneven terrain of his courtyard before coming to a stop. You tried to avoid paying too much attention to the scenery whenever Malleus saw fit to take you farther than the castle walls, knowing how little you’d see of the outside world and how easy it was to miss, but you forced yourself to glare down at the weeds forcing themselves through well-worn cobblestone as Malleus glanced towards. It’d be easier if you didn’t meet his eyes. And, when he failed to ask, all you did was voice your thoughts, your tone as neutral as you could manage. “You’re hurting me.”

There was a beat of silence, a quick glance towards your wrist. When he let out a quiet, breathy laugh, you couldn’t stop yourself from deflating. “You should’ve said something,” He chastised, playfully. “It’s easy to forget how fragile humans can be, especially when they’re so rare. Silver would sooner bleed out than let Lilia fret over his injuries, and I can’t say you’re much better.”

And yet, he let you go. If anything, his grip only grew tighter, a pulsing ache soon forming under his palm. “Malleus, that’s nice, but--”

“Silver is considerate, though. If he bites his tongue, it’s only because he knows speaking would be more alarming than keeping quiet. I’m not sure where he picked up the trait, but that’s thoughtful of him, isn’t it?” He didn’t wait for an answer, only clamping down, watching with a small smile as your free hand shot to his wrist and you struggled not to cry out. Pulling away wasn’t an option, anymore. It was all you could do to keep your fingertips from going numb, let along tug your way out of his iron-clad grip. “I don’t really expect you to understand. You’ve been too unreasonable to see the point in sacrifice, lately.”

“I don’t have anything to sacrifice.” It was true, he wouldn’t have been able to deny that. What little you’d once had, he’d taken away. What you tried to keep to yourself, he pried from your arms without the slightest bit of shame. You knew that, and so did Malleus, somewhere in the back of his twisted, deluded mind. But, judging from the way his eyes narrowed as you went on, he didn’t care for the reminder. “You’re hurting me, is that what you want? Am I just supposed to grit my teeth and let you?”

There was the shortest hesitation, just a moment’s worth of reluctance. He opened his mouth, but you already had your answer. By the time he thought to lie, you were reeling back, digging your heels into the pavement and struggling in vain to wrench yourself away from him. “Let me go!” You didn’t try to keep your voice down. You didn’t care when a passing couple pretended not to stare and the nearest soldiers edged away from their post and Malleus scowled, his patience worn thin enough for his frustration to show. “You’re a monster--”

The air hitched in your throat before you could process why. Malleus hardly moved, but all it took was a click of his tongue and a glare only slightly more malicious than his usual glower and then, something white-hot and burning was searing itself into your skin, little more than a spark of what you knew he was capable of. It only lasted a second, most likely less than that, but the pain didn’t lessen as Malleus released you, allowing you the mercy of drawing your arm back into your chest and cradling your injury. The wound was raw, throbbing every time it made contact with the chilled air, your vision blurring at just the thought of touching it. If you hadn’t known better, you may’ve gone running to a healer out of instinct alone, but you had a feeling Malleus wasn’t in the mood to deal with that kind of defiance.

“Take this as a lesson,” He spat, the warning dripping with a venom you’d never heard from him. “I won’t be this kind, in the future. The burn will heal, but next time you insist I’m so awful, the damage won’t be as temporary. Do you understand?”

Slowly, you forced yourself to nod, earning an unimpressed scoff from Malleus. He accepted your lackluster submission, though, turning away and signaling you to follow with a slight, nonchalant wave. You moved to comply, but you hesitated before you started after him. You couldn’t help it.

You were injured, but he wasn’t holding onto you, anymore. He wasn’t dragging you around like a loyal mutt, forced onto a lead by an optimistic master. You were injured, but it’d worked.

Any amount of pain would’ve been worth it, if you’d finally found a way to get under his skin.

He was going to kill you.

You really hadn’t meant to lash out. You hadn’t meant to hurt him, but he’d startled you, caught you off guard while you were trying to fall asleep in a bed that was too soft and too decorative to appeal to faeries and the sparse, scattered hours they spend asleep. He’d put his hands on you, and you’d panicked. You’d felt his teeth on your neck, and for a moment, you hadn’t been able to think.

You hadn’t meant to, but now there were three thin, ragged scratches running from his cheek his jaw, the bottom-most still bleeding, and Malleus was going to kill you.

You tried to remedy the situation, while you still could. You’d never hurt him before, never affected him in a way left such tangible evidence, and to be honest, part of you still couldn’t believe you’d managed it. Malleus seemed to be stuck in a similar mindset, his lips parting slightly as his hand drifted from your hip to his cheek, tracing the jagged wound. He didn’t flinch, didn’t shy away from the contact, but that didn’t matter. Whether there was pain or not, you’d done something to harm him. That wasn’t an offense he was going to forgive easily.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--” You cut yourself off, sitting up before you could say another word, before you could make things worse for yourself. There was a dip in the mattress, a small shift in his posture, but you tried not to linger on the way his shoulder squared as you cupped the unmarried side of his face. “I’m sorry, I’m really, really sorry, you just… I didn’t know what you were doing, and you know I don’t like it when you... I don’t like it when you touch me.”

“You cut me.” He sounded surprised, more shocked than he should’ve been. It made sense, for Malleus. He’d never liked to acknowledge that you could hurt him, let alone the possibility that you’d try to. “You cut me.”

“I-I know,” You tried, settling onto your knees in front of him. Suddenly, you were thankful he’d chosen wait until you were in bed. “But, it’s alright, you just need to--”

This time, he didn’t wait for you to finish. Before you could finish, his fingers were tangled in your hair, the heel of his palm pressed against your forehead. You almost wished their had been some kind of magic word - a spell, an incantation to give you an idea of his intentions. Instead, there was only the feeling of his nails digging into your scalp, a sourceless sense of confusion, and exhaustion. Pure, unadulterated exhaustion.

He didn’t even bother to catch you, as you collapsed.

Your throat was on fire, when you woke up.

It was a dry, cracked, excruciating sort of pain, the type that had curling into yourself and clutching at your neck and wondering if you should try to drink something or close your eyes or scream. You might’ve tried to. If you did, though, you couldn’t hear it, couldn’t feel it, not underneath that blend of acid and rust that seemed to coat your vocal cords. It was all you could to roll onto your side, to try to focus on something, rather than letting your vision blur and fade around the edges every time you thought about straining yourself. But, you’d regret that, too, when the thing lying beside you came into focus.

Or, the person, rather. If you could still call him that.

Malleus was awake, you had to assume he’d always been. Faeries didn’t need sleep, not like a human might, meaning he was conscious and aware and, when he noticed you staring up at him with an expression best described as ‘petrified’, he was able to smile, to smirk, to meet your eyes with all the composure he’d lacked, the last time you’d shared his company. It might’ve been hours ago, it might’ve been days ago, but you had no way of being certain. The black, satin sheets underneath you were still the same ones you’d crumpled onto, under his spell. The hearth on the other side of his bedroom was still lit, but it always was, an eerily green fire left to burn constantly in an effort to fight the pervasive darkness of his homeland. The only thing that might’ve changed was his appearance, his spotless white tunic now unbuttoned, his hair brushed away from his face, and in his hand, he toyed with something. A handle, maybe, a strip of dark strip of leather that, when you thought to check, led back in your direction. Reflexively, you brought a hand to the base of your neck, where the pain was at its worst.

Huh.

You really should’ve seen this coming.

A choker. That’s what it felt like, at least. A circlet of cold, polished metal pulled tight against your skin, made to swirl and branch out in a way that, almost ironically, made you think of the thornbushes Malleus had always been so fond of. As far as you could tell, there wasn’t a buckle, no latch or pin that’d let you remove the contraption without freeing yourself of your head, in the process. You couldn’t see its color or its size, but you were thankful for that. Just imagining the way it must look, a collar and a leash and the pathetic, weakened mortal forced into it…

Quickly, you decided not to linger on the thought, and to concentrate on finding a way out of it, instead.

You held onto your side of the tether, hoping beyond hope that you’d just jumped to the wrong conclusion. “What is this?”

The words came out soft, just bordering on inaudible, but Malleus was close enough to hear. At first, he only hummed, scanning over you idly, evaluating your current state. You must’ve been unconscious for more than a day, at least. Clearly, his rage had time to cool into something much more dangerous than impulsive wrath. “I thought this would be… appropriate.” You hated the way he spoke, with rehearsed inflections and a practiced stiltedness. As if there was a reason to pretend he wasn’t satisfied with his work. “I didn’t have another option. You’ve been acting out so often and… What’s the phrase mortals are so fond of? Biting the hand that pets you?”

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you,” You muttered, absently. The numb realization came first, but the anger was quick to follow. Quick to overwhelm, despite your better judgement. “I’m not a fucking dog--”

As soon as you started to raise your voice, he pulled your cord taut, jerking you forward and causing the metal around your neck to contract, just enough to press into your skin. You didn’t even get a chance to ask what he’d done. It wasn’t just pain, anymore. It wasn’t just a flame being held against your arm, or your thigh, or whatever part of you Malleus decided he loved the least, that day. It was a puncture, an injection, something that forced itself into your body and refused to withdraw. It was something driving itself under your skin and writhing, a parisite curling around your collarbone and biting. Your hands shot back to your collar, clawing at the seamless metal, but as far as you could tell, it hadn’t moved. It hadn’t done anything. There was nothing to fight against, nothing to dig your nails into, no blood or bruise or mark. Just the slightest bit of warmth and Malleus hovering over you, rubbing small, shallow circles into your shoulder and making your lungs tighten in your chest, making it more impossible to breath with every passing second.

It was almost worse when it stopped, when Malleus sighed and dropped your leash and you were able to gasp for air. This time, Malleus was there to catch you, to guide your head against his chest as he cooed sweet, contented nothings. You’d almost forgotten how cruel magic could be, in the wrong hands.

You’d almost forgotten how sadistic he could be, with the right incentives.

“It’s not that bad, is it? There’s never going to be a wound, but I tried to make sure it would hurt. Just enough to let you see how I feel, every time you find a new way to break my heart.” There was a languid sigh, a shake of his head. You had to lock your jaw into place just to keep from calling him another awful name, just to keep from earning yourself another pull and another minute of whatever method of torture he’d come up with. “I can’t trust you to behave for the sake of your own safety. This was the only way, my love. If I can’t trust you to love me…” There was a brief pause, a light kiss pushed into your temple. Regretful, but not remorseful. Apologetic, but more sorry he chose to imprison someone so stubborn than for the lengths he was willing to go to, if it meant controlling your temper. You couldn’t say you were surprised, but your disappointment would’ve been impossible to ignore.

Although, you didn’t have much time to linger on the feeling as Malleus took up your cord, wrapping it around his fist as he went on.

“You’ll just have to learn to fear me, instead.”

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