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[35c4p15t]

The Inevitable Things We Try to Avoid

an aizawa x reader fic

dividers by @/benkeibear

Synopsis:

Life has been throwing you a lot of curve balls lately: your boss is terminally ill, you just turned thirty, your boyfriend left without a word, and you've made a huge mistake at work. The only thing that could make it worse is if you end up sending that sext to the wrong person- Oh. Shit.

Link to Ao3

Content warning: cisfem reader, no quirks, office au, miscommunications, slow burn, eventual smut.

Masterlist

-Chapter One

-Chapter Two

-Chapter Three

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[35c4p15t]

CW: nsfw, implied somnophilia, implied yandere, nonconsensual cunnilingus, both parties gn but reader is afab.

Everything is foggy. Limbs heavy and numb, lying on your back in bed, only vaguely aware of the wetness between your thighs. Attempting to move, you're only able to shift your hips slightly before something restricts you; what feels like hands gripping your bare legs, holding them open. The sensation combined with the delayed realisation that you've been stripped naked makes you panic, trying even harder to flail and thrash with little success. “Calm down, flower." At the smooth voice, your heart jumps into your throat and you cease your pointless jerking. Breath tickles your skin, dangerously close to your exposed cunt, sending a horrified chill rippling through your body. Belatedly, your vision adjusts to the darkness and your hazy mind clears, revealing greedy eyes swirling with zeal, rapture, and mania burning into you intensely. Soft lips graze your naval. “Keep being good for me, blossom." As if being bad was a viable option.

Gentle kisses trail down to your pussy as your thighs are pushed up, one strong hand sliding down and spreading your folds. Desperately distracting yourself by staring at the dark shape of the ceiling light, you barely hear the numerous guileless praises being mumbled into your flesh, until your focus is stolen back by a sudden shock of pleasure- your violator sucking, licking, nipping at your clit. Involuntarily, you gasp, throwing your head back and attempting to close your thighs, earning a gruff moan from between your legs, the resultant vibration adding to the growing coil in your lower abdomen. The hand on your thigh slides into one of yours, lacing fingers together in what would otherwise be a sweet gesture. In your other hand, you grasp the sheets, fighting against the urge to kick and scream; forcing yourself to endure, comply. Two fingers circle your entrance before slipping inside, the stretch eased by saliva and slick, uncomfortable yet coaxing a small whine from you. Burying themselves deeper with each thrust, the digits brush against a particularly sensitive spot, snapping the coil and flooding your vision with white as you cum on the fingers still thrusting into you. A fond sigh. “So beautiful, flower."

[35c4p15t]

CW: angst, heavily inspired by 'I Could Have Sworn You Were Dead' by dandelion hands

Small, gentle waves lap at your bare feet while your toes absentmindedly wiggle in the wet sand- you hate the sensation, but the picturesque view of warm sunlight glistening on turquoise waters tumbling over themselves in front of you is distracting enough. Soft splashing is accompanied by overhead seagull caws. The scent of salt fills the calm air. In the back of your mind, you question why you are at the beach.

Quiet, steady footsteps displace sand somewhere to your right. So familiar, you realise who they belong to without checking. Gradually, they get louder as they get closer. Eventually, they stop next to you. Still gazing out to sea, the sounds of nature around you fade, overwhelmed by the beat of your own heart. Anticipation tempts you to face your partner. In the back of your mind, you know his presence is impossible.

Deep, leisured breaths beside you finally steal your attention. Turning, a bittersweet simper involuntarily graces your face. No longer weighed down with exhaustion, Nanami Kento looks more handsome than ever; easy smile, relaxed eyes, loose shoulders. Upon his silky, blond hair lies a crown of yellow and red flowers with fringed, layered petals- their beauty makes you smile, even as you feel your chest squeeze painfully. In the back of your mind, you remember they are the flowers you left on his grave.

Tears begin to blur your vision. Kento brings both his hands to your face, his thumbs delicately wiping your watering eyes. His face is easily read. “I'm happy… that you're happy." But there is no joy in your tone; voice cracking as you fight back more tears. Tender lips press lovingly against your forehead. Falling into him, his arms reposition to embrace you. "I know you were always so tired…" Unable to bring yourself to utter the remaining words, you mouth them: '… So, sleep.' Sourness stings your tongue. In the back of your mind, you recognise you are the one dreaming.

[35c4p15t]

Disillusionment

Yandere!Dabi x fem!Reader CW: yandere, Dabi smokes weed, mentioned drug dealing, paranoia, implied stalking, dub/nonconsensual kissing and touching

Corruption, injustice, poverty; your hope fizzled out years ago, as early as high school. Correcting the system was impossible. While classmates aspired to be heroes, you instead silently envisioned the life of a villain- why obey and aid a government and society you despised when you could live directed by your own morals and whims? It's not as ideal as you used to romanticise, and you might not quite qualify as a villain, but, disregarding paranoia induced by the dangerous community and risky work, criminality treats you well enough; flexible hours, great money… Dabi. Although his ideals differ from yours, and despite his tendancy for violence, he decided to befriend and help you- without his assistance, you might still be trapped in your old, lawful life. He still hangs around you; often breaking into your place, crashing on your couch, helping himself to your 'inventory'. You allow it all, reasoning that you're indebted to him, and that his company eases your paranoia, all while denying the confusingly wonderful weightlessness, powerlessness, and warmth his presence causes.

The weight of your recent work- covering 'security' for your supplier- is heavy on your shoulders as you let yourself into your apartment, the stench of weed hitting you, skunky, slightly piney, and thick in the air. In your living room, you spot a spiky mop of hair, black as charred coal. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as the weight on your shoulders lightens. Reclining on your sofa, joint in hand, smoke dancing above him, his electric blue orbs flick over your form as he smirks, jolting you out of exhaustion and heating your cheeks. “Hey, princess. Welcome back to the castle." Fighting to uphold your usual tough attitude, you force a scoff, using your renewed energy to slip into the kitchen, the open-plan design giving you full sight of your guest. “Want something to eat, or you content just bumming my grass?" Snuffing out his joint, Dabi chuckles, low and soft. “Would never say no to your cooking, doll." Rolling your eyes, you huff, amused. “Never mentioned cooking, unless that's what you call adding water to instant ramen." Exaggeratedly, his face drops, disappointed. “C'mon, princess, can't y'whip up somethin' nice?" Despite the deep desire to do anything to please him, you refuse to let yourself bend so easily. “Why do you call me 'princess' if you want me to be your maid?" Smirk widening, a mischievous glint flashes in his mesmerising eyes. So deep, so pretty, even when half-lidded and bloodshot, you have to tear your own away from them, cheeks burning. “I was gunnin' for 'doting partner', but maid is even better." Unable to bear his flirtatious gaze, you turn away, feigning annoyance as your heart races. He's teasing, joking, and you simultaneously revel in and abhor it. “Got me hungry now, doll. Help me out, huh?" Desiring his approval and praise, you buckle under his persistence, even as your body starts to remember its fatigue. Rummaging through the fridge for ingredients, you hear a short, deep hum of satisfaction accompanied by shuffling and the clicking of a lighter.

'Business' is different now. A lot is different now. The Paranormal Liberation Front war shook the country to its core; fresh, significant cracks of distrust and grief fracturing the sanguine façade the government and heroes had built. Good; anything that troubles the despicable system was a win in your book, even if the heroes claimed victory overall. Extra customers seeking escape with or answers from a high were a bonus. Newly-inspired, wannabe vigilantes and desperate heroes scrambling to regain their former glory were not, but at most they were a nuisance.

You're different now, too. Since his 'reveal', Dabi- as you knew him- completely disappeared from your life. It hurt, at first, regardless of how much you tried to deny or ignore it; the space he'd carved for himself in your heart, in your existence, empty without him. Adding to your mental torment, your paranoia worsened- occasionally seeing shadowy figures in your peripheral vision and feeling watched near constantly- fortunately, refined by your line of work, your instincts are strong and reliable, so actual threats were distinguishable. During Dabi's absence, you thought about him- an embarrassing amount- slowly realising how unhealthy your friendship, if you could even describe it as such, had been. He used you, your drugs, your apartment. Taking, never giving. And you were so infatuated you practically encouraged it. It infuriated you, ashamed of yourself. A streak of aggressive 'encounters' helped the dust to begrudgingly settle, and you pushed yourself to move on; Dabi's gone, he was arrogant, controlling, and selfish, you're better off without him- even if you crave the shelter from your paranoia he once provided.

Before you even enter, part of you knows. Foreboding stirs inside your abdomen as you linger outside your door. You want to be wrong, blame it on your paranoia, but you can't shrug it off. Fury boils under your skin, pushing you to storm in, jaw clenched, and slam the door behind you. “Why-" “Even more beautiful than I remember you, doll. Miss me?" Appearance so familiar otherwise, Dabi's still shaggy hair is now white as driven snow. Leaning on your kitchen counter, signature smirk plastered on his scarred face, piercing pools of blue spearing straight through you, stabbing your heart, and cutting down your resolve. Even as you grasp at it, desperate to hold onto it, your rage- your lifeline- evaporates. As unbalanced as your relationship had been, as layered and convincing the lies you told yourself were, you had missed him. “Speechless, doll?" Straightening up, Dabi brings a hand to his head and threads his fingers through his ivory locks, “What, don't like my-" “Get out." Growling at him with the few drops of anger remaining, you stare him down and step away from the front door, clearing the way. Visibly taken aback, his hand drops and his smirk devolves into a grimace. “Princess,"- throat dry, chest aching, you cross your arms and turn your head away from Dabi, too overwhelmed to continue looking at him- “I know it's been a while, but I had t'be sure it was safe t'come… catch up. Never stopped thinkin' about you." “No, you think about what you can get from me, not me. Please leave."

Your fingers dig into your arms as you hear him start walking, his footsteps slowly getting closer to you. “Is this…? What's this about? …'Cause I'm a Todoroki?" Tone accusatory, you almost laugh. “Honestly, I could not care less who your family is, Dabi." Steeling yourself, you turn back to face him, now standing tall in front of you with his eyebrows furrowed, those damn eyes staring you down. Voice breaking, you continue, “I care about how you treated me." For once, Dabi stays quiet, lifting an eyebrow in request for an explanation. “Never asking before you come over, stealing from me, taking advantage of how I felt about you… Then disappearing for months without a word? Do you have any idea how worried I was?" Tears sting the corners of your eyes. “Right when I think I'm over it, you reappear. Did you ever respect me?" Heart heavy, you cast your gaze away from his intense stare, flinching involuntarily when he unexpectedly cups your cheek in one of his rough palms, tilting your face up to his, a finger's breadth away.

Freezing up, you try to understand what happening, but then he's kissing you, lips so soft even though one is scarred, and your mind goes blank. His other hand finds your hip and tugs you closer. Noticing your rigidity, Dabi breaks the kiss, sighing against your mouth as his eyelids open, intense icy blue eyes sending a chill down your spine. “Thought this would be way different, doll." Raspy and low, his voice causes blood to rush to your cheeks, even as his statement puts you ill at ease. Finally regaining minimal control of your stiff body, you attempt to shuffle away from him, but Dabi chases you, pushing you into the wall behind you and strengthening his grip. Although expecting his power to exceed yours, the obvious distinction between the two of you is astonishing. “Isn't absence suppos'd t'make the heart grow fonder?" Trapped between his body and the wall, you squirm in his grasp, internally conflicted; gut instincts screaming at you to get away, resurfacing feelings whispering to enjoy his attention. Every movement of your face, Dabi follows, never allowing an inch of distance. “Guess I shouldn't've waited s'long, huh?" Losing motivation to resist him, your thrashing reluctantly dies down as his words confuse, interest, and slightly unnerve you. “… W-what?" “Doesn't matter, doll… I gotcha now." Planting his lips on yours again, he presses himself impossibly closer, clawing his hand down from your hip to your leg, strong grasp forcing it up against his side before slotting himself between your thighs. Through your frenzied thoughts, you feel him smile.

Panicking, you unthinkingly try to speak, but Dabi immediately seizes the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth. Overflowing with an array of emotions, tears begin to fall. Needing space, you resume struggling, but his hold is too solid; you only manage to wiggle minutely. In response, Dabi groans softly and starts grinding into you. Leaving the side of your face, his hand steadily paws down your body, squeezing at your chest as best he can with his own torso obstructing his access before sliding to your waist, fingers digging into your flesh. Disgustingly slowly, his tongue slithers out of your mouth. “Fuck, want'd to take y'home t'do this…" Pausing, Dabi pulls away slightly, gazing at your breathless, teary, disheveled form. A vicious grin breaks across his face. "… Next time." Sight blurry, chest heaving, you glance at him, catching his stare. It feels eerily familiar, yet looks unnervingly different. For the first time, it strikes you how out-of-depth you are; a mere criminal humbled by an actual villain. In hypnotic, oceanic orbs, you feel yourself drowning, even as Dabi closes his eyes to resume what he himself had interrupted.

[35c4p15t]

Forgiveness

Yandere x Reader E.g. Shouta Aizawa, Kai Chisaki (BNHA), Suguru Geto (JJK) CW: yandere, abuse and neglect, implied kidnapping, implied developing of Stockholm syndrome

You were so tired. Arms burning due to being tied to the wall over your head, eyes itchy from the tears now staining your cheeks, throat raw after crying and screaming, legs aching as a result of being forced to stand for hours upon hours. This was your fault; you should have known he would react unfavorably, but you were so angry, confused, disgusted… you had lashed out without thinking. Maybe that was why he had put you here, alone in a cold, bare room- to make you think.

How long had you been here? He was probably watching, somehow. At first, you had continued shouting obscenities, hurling insults, thrashing. All of which achieved nothing but the painful state you were now in. Then, you'd just cried. About being taken, being trapped, being powerless. Thinking was the only option left. Did he want you to apologise? Plead with him? Beg for forgiveness? Another tear fell. You didn't think you had any left.

“… I-I'm…" It hurt to speak, dehydrated and sore. “I'm sorry… P-please… let me out…" A moment passed with no response. If you still could, you would have started crying again. Instead, you hung your head, defeated. It was hard to breathe, but harder to care.

Another minutes or so passes, though it feels longer, before he enters the room. His steady footsteps get closer, but you don't lift your head. Out the corner of your eyes, you see his feet. He cups your cheek with unexpected tenderness, forcing you to look at him while he stares at you pensively, evaluating your condition. Seemingly finding whatever he was looking for, he careful removes his hand from your head to untie your arms, maneuvering them around his shoulders so he could gently lower you to the floor, knowing your legs were close to giving out. Propped against the wall, muscles sore but finally able to rest, you watched as he picked up a water bottle previously out of eyeshot, unscrewed the lid, and held it up to your chapped lips. “Drink." Parched and desperate not to upset him again, you obeyed. The cool water soothed your throat and you closed your eyes in relief. Upon quenching your thirst, you opened your eyes, and he pulled the bottle away from you before sliding one arm under your knees and the other under your back, standing up with you in his embrace.

He carries you to the bed, you almost miss his strong arms after he places you on the plush sheets. Leaning over you, he appeared almost… angelic; robust, attractive, assured; he had freed you, forgiven you, and assisted you. “I did it for you. To teach you." His tone is soft yet confident, words holding implications you can't completely comprehend, but don't want to- you understand enough. So close his scent is all you can smell. Despite everything, you like it.

Heartbeats and breathing fill the silence. He stares at you, unmoving, expecting something. Compelled by your tired mind yearning for rest, security, and comfort, you lift your head- ignoring your screaming muscles- almost unnoticeably hesitating before pressing your lips to his. It's chaste, and he doesn't react. Your head drops soon after contact, returning his gaze with unsure, worried eyes until he smiles, satisfied, victorious. Relieved, your eyes slide shut, waiting for sleep to envelop you. Breath tickles your ear, and you resist the urge to jerk in surprise, but your heart begins to race. “Today could have been much worse. Be grateful I'm so forgiving." His lips meet your cheek, lingering before he finally stands, allowing you some reprieve from his overwhelming presence. Slumber claims you as tears wet the corner of your eyes.

[35c4p15t]

Ungrateful

Yandere!Tomura Shigaraki x afab!Reader CW: yandere, kidnapping, heavily implied depression, angsty, nonconsensual sex, pain

NSFW - MDNI

Plush duvet under your back, limbs sprawled over the bed, you continue listlessly staring at the blank ceiling. Ambient music plays in the background, accompanied by Tomura's heavy breaths and barely audible clicks of his controller's buttons. Occasionally, you were graced with frustrated curses or insults. Watching him play had grown tiring long ago, not that the ceiling was any more interesting. In a previous time, you played together, but even video games required more energy and motivation than you possessed now.

A strangled, annoyed groan pulled your gaze instinctively, allowing you to see him carelessly discard his controller before standing up, bones cracking loudly, and turning to you, scowling. Dread settles itself in your stomach as he approaches you. Ironic; he used to make you so happy, but it seemed the more lethargic you grew, the more aggressive he became. He looks you over, displeased. “Move over." Gathering the little energy you had, you collect your limbs and shuffle over to make room for him. He flops down next to you, bouncing you both slightly. His gaze burns into you, unimpressed with the distant look in your tired eyes. He gunts, deciding to finally address your condition after days, if not weeks, of refusing to confront the change in your attitude and behaviour. “Why are you like this?" Not answering will only anger him, so you push yourself through your exhaustion to reply, not bothering to properly pronounce your words. “… Ev'rythin' seems poin'less… barely feel anythin' anymore." Discontent with your answer, his brows furrow before a predatory grin breaks across his face and he sits up to leer over you. “You wanna feel somethin, huh? Wanna do something with a purpose?"

His gaze is malicious as a hand touches your t-shirt, disintegrating it. Without it, his skin is clammy and rough against yours. Braless, as the only clothes he gave you were t-shirts and shorts, you are exposed to his greedy eyes. Disgusted, you look away as his hand grabs your chest. Since your imprisonment, you had suspicions he would do this, but you ignored them, wanting to hold onto the memory of him as your friend, even if he had acted questionably.

Longing for the past, you are dragged from your thoughts by a harsh squeeze to your breast as he slings a leg over your hips, looming over you. Glancing at his face, his expression is almost ecstatic, causing a chill to ripple down your spine. Dropping his head, Tomura licks a long, slimy stripe along your neck, prompting you to cringe. He shows no indication of noticing, much less caring. Instead, he roughly grabs your face with his free hand, cementing you in place as he plants his chapped lips against yours, immediately trying to force his tongue into your mouth. He succeeds when you gasp in pain due to his fingers digging mercilessly into the plush of your chest. Repulsed, desperate to remove his tongue from your throat, you wish you had the will to fight back. Not that it would help much, he would simply overpower you. Shame and regret weigh heavy on your heart.

Tomura starts grinding his hips down into you, adding to your revulsion. Pulling away, he lets go of your face, and you relish the absence of his tongue, until he shifts to kneeling over you and touches your shorts, rendering you naked. “Turn over." His voice is raspy and commanding, and despite the implications of his request, you obey, grateful you no longer have to face him. His weight leaves the bed momentarily, but returns quickly as he hastily pushes your legs far enough apart to place himself between them, then he descends upon you again; slobbering and panting against your neck as his hips shallowly hump your ass, chest laying on your back. Horrified, you realise he is bare, save for his boxers; the thin layer of fabric the only barrier between his thick cock and your vulnerable butt. Both his arms snake under you; one hand entertains itself by once more ruthlessly groping your chest while his other hand travels between your thighs, inexperienced fingers flumbling as they explore. Stomach turning, you feel nauseous. Reaching your pussy, his fingers find no evidence of arousal, causing Tomura to grunt, annoyed. “What, you don't want me? Get wet, or it's gonna hurt us both." He's frowning, and his breath irritates your ear.

Continuing to unskillfully prod and poke around, he finally grazes your clit, making you jolt and him grin, entirely too proud of himself. Harshly pressing the tough pads of his fingers against the bundle of nerves, paired with the movement caused by his depraved grinding, and pawing at your chest, forces your body to respond, involuntarily readying yourself for him. Overcome with panic, at long last, you gain the will to protest, voice shaky as tears threaten to form. “Tomura, pleas' stop, I don' wan' this…!" “Shut up, you fuckin' ingrate," he sounds offended, an edge to his words. “I'm doing this for you; make you feel something good, give you some meaning. Be more thankful." Fueled by anger, or perhaps impatience, he kneels behind you and rids himself of his boxers before grabbing your hips with both his hands, lifting you up onto your knees while your upper body remains on the bed, hiding your face as your eyes brimmed with tears.

After lining himself up, he pushes into your cunt, his cock hot and far too big for how little prepared you are. In response to the splitting pain, you cry out; it almost feels like he's tearing you apart. Seemingly, your whines only serve to excite him, as his pants deepen and he thrusts harder into you, desperate to bottom out. When he does, his dick poking painfully at your cervix, you're sobbing, and grabbing at the sheets in agony. You're almost definitely bleeding. “Fuck, you're so tight…!" His voice is strained, and as he finishes speaking, a cool liquid lands on your back. Nausea flares up as you realise he's drooling on you. Allowing you only a moment to adjust, he begins moving too soon, evoking more cries and muffled screams. Mercifully, one of his hands relocates your clit, rubbing it in tight circles. Pleasure helps distract you from the horrible ache, and slowly causes your pussy to get wetter, until eventually you're slick enough that Tomura's thrusts speed up, and your sobs gradually morph into small, shameful moans.

Without looking, you know he's smirking, even through his groans and curses. Every time he opens his mouth, more drool falls onto you, but you're too clouded by forced pleasure to pay much attention anymore. Unprompted, Tomura leans down, pressing against your back, returning his mouth to your neck, heavy pants loud in your ear, and the hand that had been keeping your hips in place slid under you, once again desperately squeezing your chest. From the new angle, he managed to hit somewhere that showed you stars, causing you to clench around him, in turn making him grunt, drool over your neck, and start to jackrabbit into you. Repeatedly pounding your sweet spot while continuously circling your clit, the white-hot coil that had built up inside you snaps, making your cunt tighten around his cock, involuntarily moaning loudly as you come. Fucking you through your orgasm, Tomura follows you soon after, mumbling nonsense in your ear while saliva floods from his mouth. Horror fills you as he does, disgusted, ashamed, and regretful. He stays inside you, regaining his breath. “Don't you feel so much better now?" He brushes his wet lips against your cheek, nearly lovingly, before he pushes you down from your knees, lying on top of you until he rolls the both of you onto your sides, holding you from behind. He still doesn't pull out.

Cruelly, feelings are abundant now.

[35c4p15t]

Powerless (Yandere!Bully x Reader)

E.g. Katsuki Bakugo, Dabi/Touya Todoroki (BNHA), Gojo Satoru (JJK)

CW: yandere, referenced bullying, verbal abuse, pet names (doll, love, sweetheart), nonconsensual kissing and dry-humping

NSFW- MDNI

Arrogance first compelled him to approach you, entranced by your demeanor, before immaturity pushed him to insult and assault you, angered by your initial indifference towards him. Interactions thereafter snowballed as his intrigue evolved into infatuation, which soured into possessiveness, until his role in your life was that of an abusive, toxic, unpredictable bully. Despite wishing things were better, he'd play any role if it meant hogging your attention and scaring others away from you.

Cornering you was concerningly easy; even after all he'd put you through, your efforts to avoid him were pitifully easy to overcome. “Miss me, sweetheart?" Panic was written all over your face as you turned to look at him. Jolting away from him, about to run, he catches your arm, securing you next to him. Where you should be. “Where you goin', doll?" Squirming in his grip, you manage to plead, “Away from you. Please, let me go." It hurts, that you're always so desperate to get away from him. “You wound me, love," he smirks, masking his actual feelings, as usual. “I jus' wanna spend some time with my favourite person, don't you?" He tugged you closer to him, pressing his toned chest against your back, wrapping his arms around your front, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder. “I am your favourite person, right, sweetheart?" His breath tickled your ear uncomfortably, causing you to wiggle in his grasp. “Careful, love, you're gonna make me excited." You cease movement immediately, eyes brimming with tears. He notices, sighing in disappointment. “C'mon, doll, lemme take you somewhere nice, yeah?"

Confused, but powerless to resist, he forces you into his car. “P-please, I don't want to go anywhere… with you." He stares at you, overwhelmed: enraged by your disinclination, frustrated at his own distreatment of you, and desperate to keep you with him. Consequently, he shoves you into the back of his car, climbing in after you, closing the door behind him before crawling over you, distressing you as you attempted to shuffle away.

Undeterred, high on adrenaline, and too elated that you were finally beneath him to think clearly, he grabs your face- unintentionally harsh in his haste- and you whimper, immediately flailing under him in distress, becoming more frantic while he lowered his face, his nose brushing against yours as he planted his lips on yours. Frenzied, you started thrashing, prompting him to drop his body, weighing you down, and briefly lift his mouth to murmur in a husky, confident tone, “Don't bother, doll, you can't stop me." “N-no! Please, I'll go wherever you want, b-but, please don't do this!" “Oh, but you've upset me now, love. Make it up to me, yeah? Just relax, sweetheart." Returning to kissing you, smirking when you stopped writhing, instead laying limp, tears flowing down heated cheeks. His free hand snaked down your body, finding and squeezing your ass while he pushed his tongue into your mouth, and his leg forced itself between your thighs to begin grinding against you. Feeling a hardness pressing on your thigh reignited your anxiety, however, struggling under him simply pleased him, groaning hotly into your mouth. Pressing his leg harder against you, the hand holding you face in place dug warningly into your cheeks before sliding down to your chest, groping- selfishly, so hard you flinched in pain- his breathing quickening, almost heavily panting on your face, withdrawing his mouth from yours momentarily to mutter near nonsense, “You're mine, I own you, sweetheart. No-one else loves you, doll, you're nothin' without me."

Despite hearing his words numerous times since he started harassing you, it still stung. Dejected, you turned your head, unable to face your tormentor, now also molester. You felt sick. Swept up in his own pleasure, he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, mouth open, licking, kissing, biting at the sensitive skin there. His hips accelerated, hand roaming your body, grabbing, squeezing, and rubbing as he pleased, until he buried his teeth possessively into your neck, sighing through his teeth, jerking against you a few more times before he stilled, panting in your ear for a moment. Eyes screwed shut- burning from crying- and stomach aching with disgust, you felt more shame, repulsion, and powerless than ever. “Least you're not completely useless, huh, doll?"

[35c4p15t]

Perfect Husband (Yandere!Nanami Kento x Reader)

CW: yandere, mentioned murder, implied stalking and manipulation

---

Nanami Kento is the perfect husband. Respectful, considerate, doting- you struggled to even recall him arguing with you. After meeting him at the bakery you worked at, you had slowly become friends. When your boyfriend at the time had been murdered- a mugging gone awry the police told you, but they never found the perpetrator- Kento visited you with flowers and condolences to comfort, support, and listen to you. Consequently, you became much closer.

Gradually over the next few months, your other friends drifted away from you. Even your family had withdrawn from you without explanation. Eventually- despite all your efforts to reach out to them- only Kento remained in your life. At first, you were concerned; nervous you would drive him away, too, or annoy him as he was now your sole friend. However, he reassured you he would stay by you, and even seemed content with your undivided attention.

Inevitably, you developed strong feelings for him. So, about a year after your boyfriend's death, when Kento took you to an elegant, romantic restaurant to ask you if you would consider having him as your boyfriend, you almost immediately accepted.

Frequently, although head over heels for him, you worried if you deserved him; he lavished you with gifts and attention, provided for you, always seemed to know what you thought or wanted and delivered as best he could either ever expecting anything in return, or if he felt trapped with you; staying out of pity, as you would be alone without him- surely that was unfair for him, and unhealthy for your relationship. However, Kento, able to deduce your thoughts as usual, alleviated your doubts- he loved you, he loved treating you, he loved being with you.

On the anniversary of your first date, Kento took you to the same restaurant and proposed- ring gleaming in the atmospheric lighting, on one knee, fondly staring up at you, as if you were his universe. Overjoyed, you enthusiastically agreed. You loved Kento.

Marriage with Kento was bliss; domesticity warmed your heart beyond expectations- waking up to see him sleepily, lovingly gazing at you, cooking together, sharing food, kissing him goodbye when he left for work. Despite your initial reservations, he insisted you left you job, assuring you it wasn't necessary, and that he would always take care of you. Once, while he was at work, you had tripped, causing you to fall down the stairs. Next you were aware, Kento was holding you- distressed expression easing after noticing your eyes open- and a splitting pain in your right forearm. He drove you to the hospital, even took a few days off to ensure you were okay.

At night, as you're both in bed, curled in his arms, he whispers: how he will always behold you, understand you, and protect you from others. Kill for you. A single tear forms, before he wipes it away. Nanami Kento is the perfect husband.

[35c4p15t]

Marionette (Yuuji Itadori x Reader)

Fear controlled you; inspired you to get stronger and smarter (forced you to train and study every spare second of your life), ensured you remained polite and inoffensive (barred you from expressing your emotions and opinions), and shielded you from heartbreak (didn't allow you to get close to anyone). Occasionally, the thought that you weren't a real person, simply a marionette, unwillingly dragged by strings through an unfulfilling life, crept in. That thought would consume you- weigh you down so excessively you could scarcely move or breathe- only able to recover when fear rescued you by lifting you back into the calculated routine it had constructed.

Yuuji Itadori threatened all fear had built for you. He'd first approached you at school, either oblivious to or uncaring of the signals you displayed attempting to discourage anyone from disturbing you. Cheerfully greeted you, complimented your rumoured strength, and insisted having a match. Fighting would be mutually beneficial, and therefore accepting his challenge was more appropriate- even if ambiguous fear slowly manifested itself inside you. “Your power and speed are impressive, your technique is good, too- you just need more experience. Thank you for your time. Good day." Beating him wasn't easy, but it also wasn't very difficult- expected, as you had been training much longer than Yuuji. Still, his potential was immense, and it scared you that he may quickly surpass you. “O-okay, thanks! See you around!" A brief nod, then you returned to your interrupted studies.

Normality continued for a few days, until Yuuji disregarded your clear occupancy again in favour of seeking your knowledge regarding the technical aspects of combat. “You always seems to be reading or training, so you must know a lot, right?" He reasoned, glancing from your current book to you, solidifying his point. Shifting under his gaze, you weighed your options: refusing would be cold, but understandable as sharing your knowledge would gain you nothing, however, accepting could be an opportunity to learn more about his 'situation'- which you were admittedly curious about. “Sit down. Tell me of your condition, and I'll help you, but I can't guarantee my insight isn't something you don't already know." Fear embraced you as you spoke; curiosity was dangerous, and bargaining was improper- you should have politely excused yourself. You were snapped out of your thoughts as, despite your clarity, he seemed enthusiastic as he situated himself next to you. He saddened as he explained how he'd swallowed the first Sukuna finger, and his inevitable sacrifice. Sympathy washed over you- he was so brave, continuing towards his goal although reaching it would mean his demise. “Anyway, can you talk now?" He smiled, forced and tense but still charming somehow. “Of course," you simpered, arranging your thoughts and feelings before continuing, “Thank you for informing me, my sincere sympathies." His smile faltered, and you cringed, recognising your comment was inapt. “… Technique requires consideration many aspects of battle; style, weapon, physical condition, etcetera. A cunning opponent will take note of weaknesses and react accordingly, for example, when facing a stronger foe, avoiding blows then striking where it matters is advisable over closing in to deal a pitiful hit before being grabbed and getting wrecked. Some situations, the best technique is retreat; regroup, call allies," you paused, he surely knew this all already, but he was staring at you so intensely you could feel the weight of it. You tried to ignore the sensation. “When we fought, you tended to rush to hit any part of me, which can be used to overwhelmed, but…" you advised him as best you could, even with the fear he either knew everything already, and this was a joke you didn't understand or some such, or that you were serving the Sukuna vessel the optimal way to kill you. Regardless, he seemed appreciative after.

Taking it upon himself to routinely find you and make excuses to stay, Yuuji quickly became the closest person you had in your life, despite your efforts to avoid him. Doomed though he was, he treated you so kindly (voluntarily talked to you) and- ignoring his comments about Jennifer Lawrence, and how fear swiped at you when thinking about him (especially when your stomach fluttered as he told you he'd been looking for you, or as he laughed, or as you made contact when sparring)- you regretfully had fun with him- something rare in your old routine, but near consistent around Yuuji.

“How come I never see you with anyone else in your free time? I'm not your only friend, am I?" An unfamiliar way to begin a conversation, but he was smiling, probably teasing you. Or mocking you. “Who said you're my friend?" You spoke before you could stop yourself. Tone harsh, his smile dropped as you mentally scolded yourself for your behaviour. Yuuji recovered quickly, face lighting back up as he joked, “What, you wanna be more than friends?" Off guard, blood rushed to your cheeks, embarrassed. For a second, a forgotten fragment of yourself surfaced, wondering if you did want that, before you hastily buried it again- relationships, platonic or otherwise, were time bombs of hurt, pain, and betrayal, fear whispered to you. You inhaled deeply, collecting yourself. “What do you want, Yuuji?" “See? First name basis, we are friends!"- he'd asked you to drop formalities a while ago, ignoring his request would be rude (you liked calling him by his given name)- “Anyway, I thought we could, y'know, hang out. Since we're friends." “I need to train." “C'mon, you're always training! Let's do something else!" “No, thank you." “Aw, why? What are you so afraid of?" Jaw clenched, you glare at him. “You know nothing of fear." “I don't know anything about fear? I'm the vessel for the King of curses! I'm scared all the time, but even I still… smell the flowers and stuff! Are you even a person?" He had never yelled at you before. It stung, as did the realisation you had disregarded his own experiences. His last question reminded you of the thought that paralyzed you when it crept in, but it was even more painful to think Yuuji saw you as a soulless puppet. “I'm so sorry. It was nice being your… friend, I'm sorry I ruined it." Tears brimming, you hurried to your room.

Without Yuuji, time seemed to drag on. Knowing you destroyed the best relationship you'd had in years not only racked you with guilt, but also reaffirmed that you were right to be afraid- even if Yuuji's tenacity made you feel special. He never told you why he was so insistent on being your friend, you thought you wanted him to leave you alone. But now you felt worse. Hearing footsteps, you turned around, pleasantly surprised to see Yuuji. “Hey… Can we talk?" “Yes, please. Again, I'm so-" “It's fine, I shouldn't've snapped at you. I just… I care about you, I don't want you to be miserable! Every time I saw you, you were always alone and looked… blank." Heat spread across your face; he cared about you? He repeatedly sought you out to make you feel better? Flustered, you managed to mumble, “… Oh. Thanks… I, um, missed you… this past week." “Yeah?" He grinned, and you felt lighter, fear still present, but… able to overlook. “So, would you wanna hang out now?" “Yes."

Yuuji eased you into nonproductive activities: watching movies, playing video games, taking you out for food. Being around him was simultaneously the best and worst sensation; you became almost feverish- face hot, heart racing, full of butterflies, thrilled, weightless, terrified, safe. Overwhelming, yet addictive. “Whatcha thinkin' about?" Jerked back to reality- sitting next to Yuuji in his room, film playing on his t.v., his hand brushing against yours- you scrambled for an explanation. “… Um, just about… how thankful I am for all your help!" His head tilted, a light blush forming. “Um, it's no problem, I like being around you… Do you… like being around me?" “Of course!" You laughed awkwardly, feverish symptoms worsening. His hand glided from besides yours to over it, loosely lacing his fingers with yours, his face red. “Do you… like me?" Momentarily, the world seemed to pause as you stared at his hand over yours. Reminding yourself to breathe, you try to both answer and deflect with a joke, “Do you like Jennifer Lawrence?" “Not as much as I like you," he admitted, leaning closer to you until his breath caressed your lower face. “When I'm with you, I forget how messed up things are now. I just think about how amazing you are, and how much I wanna make you happy." His eyes flickered from yours to your lips, causing your heart to hammer so hard against your chest it felt as through it would break your ribcage. “I wanna kiss you, that okay?" Not trusting your voice, you nodded, prompting Yuuji to immediately close the gap between the two of you, pressing his lips softly, sweetly against yours.

Despite being afraid, you cut your strings, smelled the flowers- fear no longer ruled you.

[35c4p15t]

Thank you so much for your Fumikage post! You write so well it got me on the edge of my seat 😭👏

Wow, thanks! I'm so glad you liked it, that means a lot! :D

<3

[35c4p15t]

Apprehension (Yandere x Reader)

E.g. Nanami Kento (JJK), Erwin Smith (AOT), Kirishima Eijiro (BNHA)

CW: yandere, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, suggestive

---

You wanted to hate him. You should hate him. He stole you away, confined you in his house, enforced a routine, and pushed his affections onto you. Windows barred, doors triple locked, no technology without his supervision- escape practically impossible. However, you lacked the desire to leave.

Previous stressors and worries no longer concerned you; he provided everything- clothes, food, entertainment, company. Though, you still suffered from boredom, and he was the only companion you were permitted, your 'situation' with him was a vast improvement from living paycheck to paycheck.

Once, you'd asked him how he could afford everything, but he simply smiled and told you not to worry about it. He must have a job; after the first month he had “brought you home”, as he phrased it, he started going out for a significant portion of every weekday. To your initial dismay, you missed him while he was gone.

Sometimes, you wished he didn't treat you so well- maybe then you could bring yourself to despise him. Maybe if he didn't constantly shower you with compliments, didn't learn and engage in your interests, didn't understand your sense of humour and coax laughter out of you. If he didn't act exactly like your ideal partner, maybe you wouldn't crave his presence, or relish his conversation, or anticipate his affection.

Guilt consumed you, at first, when you caught yourself enjoying being around him- your captor. As time passed, however, you became more compliant, and guilt faded, slowly being replaced by complacency and the confusing compulsion to play house; see him out the door in the morning, greet him when he returns home, even cook and clean after he deemed you trustworthy enough to have access to supplies.

However, you had yet to initiate physical contact. Despite savoring his touch- each embrace, every kiss, each time his arm wrapped around you, every time he pulled you close, and even when he started to draw you into his chest in bed at night. Part of you yearned for more, but the small remnants of doubt and guilt had prevented you from commencing contact.

Until finally, the last of your apprehension was overcome by your desire.

After spending the entirety of the day together, the two of you had retired to bed. Beginning to curl his arm around your waist, you halted his movements as you turned to face him, your heart rate increasing while you tilted your head up and forward to press your lips to his.

Warmth blossomed and spread throughout your chest as his mouth moved against yours, placing his hand on your cheek before licking your lip, then sliding his tongue inside to explore your mouth. A blissful moment passed before you pulled away, breathless and blushing.

“I love you so much, honey. I can't wait to show you just how much."

[35c4p15t]

Just Friends (Tokoyami Fumikage x Reader)

Feelings change all the time; fondness buds and blooms akin to blossoming trees in spring, adoration grows and thrives like sunflowers in summer, resentment spreads and overwhelms similar to dying leaves in autumn, loneliness chills and permeates as wind in winter. Yet, he remains, earning unending affection from you in an everlasting summer as you yearn for autumn.

“How was your book?" Snapping out of your trance, you glance over to your best friend; his own book lowered so he could talk to you, as you were seated on a beanbag, slightly below his position on his couch. “O-oh, um... Yeah, it was pretty good; I sort of guessed what would happen, but it was still entertaining and satisfying. How's yours?" Blood slowly warms your cheeks, courtesy of lingering embarrassment due to blankly staring at one of the walls in Fumikage's room. He nods in acknowledgement, “I'm glad you liked it. I am having some trouble understanding the choices of the characters, but it's not bad." He sighs, shifting in his seat. “... Um, by the way, you don't... Happen to... Like anyone in my class, do you?" He murmurs, uncomfortable with his own question. More blood rushes your cheeks, as well as the tips of your ears while your heart rate picks up- had he finally found out? Unsure of how to respond, you simply drop your eyes to the floor, hoping you could somehow avoid baring your heart to him; you'd accepted long ago Fumikage did not return your affections. “... Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I only ask because... One of my classmates has been asking about you. I can tell him you are uninterested," his hesitant explanation indicating his continued discomfort. Hiding a sigh of relief, you consider his words. Maybe this could be how you finally free yourself from your romantic feelings for Fumikage. “Um, no, wait. Who is it?" All of them were known to you due to the sports festival, Fumikage's occasional venting, and sometimes even bumping into them in person. Fumikage looks surprised for a moment, seemingly not expecting you to even be curious, before he returns to his usual calm expression. “Kaminari Denki. He's a bit of a flirt, I can tell him you don't-" “No, that's okay," you interrupted, “I'll meet him in your classroom after school tomorrow, if you can ask him to wait for me, please?" Borderline desperate to move on from your best friend, you try to convince yourself Kaminari is a good option. Fumikage's expression is momentarily unfamiliar, unreadable even, until he once again recedes into indifference. “Sure." It would have been undetectable to anyone else, but you were certain his voice seemed... Hurt.

As agreed, after classes were over the next day, you headed straight to Fumikage's classroom. One of you usually came to the other's classroom when the school day was done, but this time, anxiety started to bubble up within you. Why did Kaminari even like you? You had spoken a handful of times, but you hadn't picked up on any flirting or the like- had you just missed it? Realising you had reached your destination, you shook yourself from your thoughts. Pushing down your nerves, you enter the classroom. Most of the students had left, leaving Fumikage, Kaminari, and two others you recognised as Iida Tenya and Yaoyorozu Momo. Maneuvering around the desks, you smile at Fumikage before finding yourself in front of Kaminari. “Hi," you greet, as he meets your gaze and grins. “Hey! I'm glad you came," he starts, looking around the classroom briefly, then turning back to you. “Would you like to go somewhere else? Coffee's on me," he winked, in a way you found dorky, but somewhat charming. Stifling a giggle, you respond, “Lead the way." He does indeed, and you follow, sneaking one last glance at Fumikage, you saw the same unreadable expression on his face as last night. A strange feeling struck you, but you ignored it and left the classroom, trailing Kaminari.

“So, how's the support course treating you?" Kaminari asked, leading you to a wooden table and bench outside the café he had just bought you both coffee from. Sitting down opposite him, feeling the summer sun's warm rays, you stir the brown liquid in your cup, watching it swirl, before answering his question. “It's good. Challenging sometimes, but I enjoy it. We recently had a big project,"- a project Fumikage had helped you greatly with, despite his own work; he always made time for you and offered you aid, regardless of circumstances- “so it's a little calmer now than it was then. Um, how's the hero course?" “Hard work," he jokes, sipping his drink, “It's worth it, though. Made a bunch of friends. Met you," he winked in his dorky, charming way. You raised an eyebrow while smiling, amused more than flattered, pushing the thoughts of Fumikage's opinion of the hero course- all he'd been through because of it, the strength he'd gained thanks to it, the sweet words he'd answered you with when you asked him if he regretted taking it- to the back of your mind. You and Kaminari spoke while you both drank your coffees, continuing until the conversation died down. No matter how much you tried to focus on Kaminari (or Denki, as he'd urged you to call him), Fumikage kept popping into your head. Tired after a full day, the sun lowering in the clear sky, you make a move to return to your dorm room, “Thanks a lot for the coffee and the conversation, Denki. It was really nice." “Oh, no problem! I had a lot of fun! Um, if you'd like, I could give you my number so we can keep in touch," he offered, smiling. For a moment, you hesitated, unsure- does he want you number to arrange a date? Was this a date? “Hey, no pressure or anything, I just thought we had a good time and had become friends," he explained, noticing your silence. Relieved, you agreed, swapped numbers, then parted ways.

Walking to your dorm room, you found yourself absorbed in your thoughts. Why were you relieved? You had a nice time! Denki was nice! Why couldn't you like him? Part of you, a part you tried to bury, answered you: because you were already too far gone for Fumikage; you didn't want anyone else. You had already known, but your heart sank all the same.

Cruel isolation chills you while you recline on your bed. Warmth always covered you when you were with Fumikage; despite your unrequited feelings, he still bathed you with attention, affection, appreciation... It was so cold without him. Sorry for yourself, you close your eyes and turn onto your side, considering taking a nap to relieve yourself from your thoughts. Knock. Knock. Knock. Familiar; you were almost certain who had knocked. However, limbs and heart heavy, you despised the compulsion to open the door, entertaining the idea of pretending not to have heard. Knock. Knock. Knock. Anxiety began building up for reasons you couldn't even identify, intensifying your feelings of loneliness and isolation; creating a sense of exposure. Fumikage always soothed you- even if your heart was racing and cheeks were burning because of him, he still never failed to make you feel safe, secure, sheltered. It seemed dramatic, but you missed him. Hopefully it was actually him at your door. Knock. Knock. Knock. Taking a deep breath to calm your mix of emotions, you stood up, shuffled to your door, braced yourself, and opened it.

Concern gleamed his red eyes, onyx feathers somewhat ruffled, as if he had been running his fingers messily through them. A deep sigh escaped him, relieved. “… May I enter?" Fumikage asked, voice low. Appreciative of his discretion (neither of you enjoyed making a scene), you nodded and stepped aside, allowing him inside, closing the door behind him. “How did it go with Kaminari?" He sounded gravely. “We, um, it was fine. I don't- I mean," you paused, collecting yourself, “We had fun, we're friends now." Blushing under his gaze, you gestured to your furniture for him to sit down. He didn't visibly react, simply sitting on your bed, and glanced from the space next to him back to you. Understanding, you quickly seated yourself where he suggested. “… Just friends?" “Yeah, Fumi. Just friends," you confirmed, slightly confused. “Um, but you're still my best friend, I'm not replacing your or anything," you added, in case that was what had uneased him. Fumikage tensed, turning his head away from you, mumbling something under his breath. Concerned, you leaned closer to him. “You okay, Fumi? Your voice sounds a bit… Raw?" Glancing at you from the corner of his eye, gaze soft, he sighed again. He turned back, facing forward, still not towards you, beside him. “I was simply… Slightly… worried." “About what? Like I said, I'm not replacing you, no one could ever be a better friend than-" “I don't want to be your friend. Or your best friend," he interrupted, lowering his head into his hands, elbows perched on his knees. “I thought"- his voice cracked, almost imperceptibly, then returned to his usual deep, smooth, dulcet timbre- “I thought you… Loved me." Mind scrambling for something to say, your widened eyes stared into his, glaring up at you from his position. At a loss, you resigned yourself to silence; you didn't want to lie to him, but you also lacked the confidence to admit what he already knew.

He sat up, angling himself to face you. One of his hands found yours, and you suddenly became aware of how sweaty you must be- he either didn't notice, or didn't care. “… My heart beats for you." Overwhelmed, you pull away from Fumikage, studying his face, searching for answers. “I don't understand." He says nothing, granting you time to think and speak. “If you knew, why wouldn't you tell me sooner? Why did you tell me about Denki? Why do you always have to be so cryptic?" You question, tears beginning to form in your eyes. He slowly retakes your hand, drawing you into his hard chest, wrapping his arms around your torso while you sniffle against his shirt. “I didn't want to lose you. I thought you might be happier with someone else. However, that made me realise I can't bear the idea of you being with another. I'm sorry. Will you allow me to make it up to you?" His question has a somewhat playful air to it, causing you to peer up at him, puzzled. Fumikage seizes the opportunity to duck his head, pressing the side of his face against your cheek; his version of a kiss. A beat passes as blood rushes to your face and your heart soars before he withdraws, gazing adoringly into your eyes, one of his hands rising to cup your burning cheek, “Be mine, and I, yours?" Autumn would never be capable of weakening what summer had cultivated.