miraelfe

[miraelfe]

Craving

Pairing: Vampire!Phinks x Reader

A/N: this was supposed to be short but it kinda got out of hand...also wanna thank True Blood for the whole 'vampire blood as an aphrodisiac' thing.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warning: Blood, Death, Allusions to Sex, (Phinks could be seen as yandere in this piece)

Hunger. Its the first thing he notices when he opens his eyes. All consuming, bubbling and burning away at his stomach to the point he feels sick. It’d only been a few days since Phinks ate, although the meal itself was more of a snack. He hadn't had the luxury of gorging himself, seeing as he was on the road and there were very few people passing by at that hour in the night.

He had resigned himself to emptying the veins of someone in a nearby village; although they were poor and Phink’s meal reflected that. Instead of the nutrient dense blood he was accustomed to, this man’s had the viscosity of water and left Phinks barely satiated.

At the moment, he wanted to roll over and satisfy his empty stomach with you. It was the easiest option, and he knew your blood to be of high quality; ensured it even, but the last time he fed from you, without slaking his overwhelming emptiness on someone else first, was all too fresh in his mind. Your hollowed eyes and exhausted body had shaken him to his core. Even now he can see your gaunt face flicker through his mind in warning.

Slowly, Phinks rose from the bed, whisper quiet as all of his kind were, before leaving your little cottage just as quietly.

The walk into the city would’ve taken a normal man hours. For Phinks it was barely long enough to reorient himself. The moon shone brightly on the weathered path, casting shadow in the ditches that wagon wheels had left in the dried earth. It had to be close to midnight, although the passage of time seemed torturously fast to him, he’d gotten acquainted with telling it through the cycles of the moon. Phinks had one more week with you before he had to report back to the troupe. He loathed leaving you, the easiest solution being to take you with him, but the idea of any other of his kind looking upon you, drinking from you, was abhorrent to him. No, bringing you with him opened up the possibility that he’d be forced to share; An idea he wasn’t keen on.

The routine of finding his first meal was easy enough. The streets were packed on warm summer nights such as this. People eager to partake in festivities that hadn’t enticed him for nearly a century. There were brothels, bars, and other unscrupulous places to choose from; but Phinks preferred to choose from the nearly empty buildings in the city. 

A rich apartment complex had been built in the heart of town, over the sea of shantytowns that had, at one point, choked off the streets. Now, all that stood were regal, gilded buildings. The residents weren’t his target, no, they’d draw too much suspicion. He craved a filling meal and knew the guards would be all too easy. They were paid enough to be loyal, and that in turn meant they were fed well. He’d just have to set the scene.

Phinks enters the bar a little ways down the street from his targets as he does all things; with an air of smug arrogance that he’s been unable to shake since before he was undead. He fits in with the crowd, so much so that he’s not even questioned as he asks for an entire bottle of whiskey. As long as he’s got the coin to spare it doesn’t seem that the bartender cares. All to Phinks’ benefit. He empties half the bottle on the cobbled streets before returning to his hunt. He’d only need about half of it anyway, and knew better than to drink the swill himself. 

No, the last time he’d tried drinking alcohol he’d vomited so much that Shalnark still mocked him for it. He hadn’t been a heavy drinker before turning, but he’d wanted a touch of normalcy. Food and drink tasted like ash in his throat, yet sweets and alcohol were the worst offenders. The memory makes Phinks grimace, quickening his steps as he heads down the road.

It takes mere moments before two guards are cornered in a dimly lit alley and Phinks snaps both of their necks. He didn’t want to cause any injuries that would spill his dinner onto the dirty cobblestone. He was too smart for that. Instead, he drank his fill before snatching one of their pistols. He aimed, pointing at one guard’s chest and the other’s head before firing. The whiskey was easily dumped into their open mouths and he used the rest to douse them. The bottle clinked against the ground as he admired his work. A late night brawl between the two would draw less attention than finding them dead with their veins sucked dry. The last thing he wanted was a monster hunter on his trail. Phinks quickly emptied their pockets before leaving. You could use the money. Buy yourself something good to eat that, he too, could enjoy.

By the time the moon hung bright in the sky, he’d drank enough to calm his stomach, although his mind was still racing. With his new meal came euphoria, the feeling accompanying the quenching of his hunger. It was during this time that his thoughts inevitably returned back to you. 

He knew running full speed back to you was a waste of energy, but he did so anyway. The night was too perfect, the sky too peaceful to want to be anywhere but by your side. 

He judged by the moon that he must make it back in record time. Maybe a quarter past one if he had to guess. It’d be around this time that you’d start to fidget in your sleep, maybe even wake yourself up in preparation to fulfill his needs. You did so every night, and although he spurned you by ignoring your requests to feed, tonight he’d indulge. 

—

“It’s time.” Phinks calls to you, his curt tone belying a hint of annoyance that he didn’t truly feel. Unbeknownst to you he’d spent far too long just taking in your peaceful form, intent on studying the rise and fall of your chest that felt completely foreign to him at his age. Was there a time when he breathed like that? Out of sheer necessity instead of just having the instinctual urge from time to time? Phinks had copied your movements, breathing in sync with you as you dozed under the clear sky. He found that he enjoyed it, if not just for his senses being assaulted by your smell. He’d even leaned in closer to the juncture of your neck, had breathed in deeply and relished in the scent of blood pulsing just beneath your skin. The smell was exquisite, but what made his mouth water was how he was engulfed in a scent that was undeniably you.

You stir, groaning as you try to sit up, to gather yourself and answer his call. You knew him well enough now that ignoring him and continuing to sleep was not the best idea. Slowly, you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before obediently waiting.

“We’re going outside.”

“Why?”

“So many fucking questions. Can’t you just do as you’re told for once?” His answer was sharp, as it always was, but lucky for him you’d just nodded. Gathering yourself before standing.

The night air was crisp, yet still comfortable. You’d even brought a blanket to shield yourself from the dew on the grass. Phinks grimaced at the thing. In truth, he was angered that he hadn’t thought of it, but yet he found the thin fabric to be an annoyance.

He’d made you come outside multiple times, enjoyed the way the moonlight danced along your skin, but to you, he’d always said feeding under the moon was less claustrophobic when he deigned to answer.

You sit, legs folded underneath you as you angle yourself to peer up at Phinks. He, in all restraint, moves slowly to sit in front of you, legs wide and inviting as he reaches for something at his belt.

The knife glints in the light, sharp and dangerous, and you felt your stomach roiling.

“We, we don’t have to do that tonight, Phinks.” 

“But don’t I?” He growled, “You always cry if I don’t” there was a stunning truth to his words, a truth that had you nodding along in acquiescence as he pressed the blade to his open palm.

The sharp pinch was nothing to him; a slight irritant in an otherwise perfect night. An annoyance he was willing to bear for your comfort, although he’d never admit to it.

With no words spoken, you kneeled on the ground before him, letting the warmth of his blood slip past your lips and down your throat with moan. It tasted good, fresh. The tang of it reminding you of ripe fruit, of summer and sweetness that belied the stoic expression of the man in front of you. Phinks resisted the moan that was building in his chest at the sensation of your full lips wrapped around him, drinking him in so greedily it caused hunger to stir in his stomach once more. Your desire was his own, magnified and heightened by the blood slipping down your jaw and onto your neck, pooling on the white fabric of your nightgown. Phinks smiles at the sight of you tainted by him. As you should be.

“So fuckin’ messy.” He tuts, his free hand wrapping around your jaw as he pulls you into his lap. It’s quick, as all of his movements are, but he slows down as he licks a stripe up your neck, cleaning you with his tongue before covering your mouth with his own.

It doesn’t take long before he’s prying you away from him, ignoring the whimpers that echo through the cool night air. You land on your back, legs immediately splaying open in invitation. Phinks takes a moment to consider you, soft hair and even softer eyes as you stare at him pleadingly. So well trained. He doesn’t have to cajole you to open up, to accept what he’s offering you, what he’s taking. In part, he knows it to be the effect of his blood, but on nights like this it was easy to fool himself into thinking the searing affection he had for you was reciprocal in nature. 

Phinks kisses his way up, following the veins marking the path to his next meal, his lips press behind your leg before stopping at the apex of your thighs. He finds that he quite likes breathing, likes the smell of you in his lungs, just as he likes the taste of you in his mouth. He remembers the first time he’d done this. Taken from your pliant body by force. No, his blood wasn’t necessary anymore but it made these shared moments all the more sweet. When he bites down its with enough force to make your legs shut on instinct, to rip a whimper from your lips. Phinks knows its not painful in your current state, can see the proof of your arousal glistening in the moonlight. 

He indulges. Lets his mind wander on thoughts of you as he drinks you deep. Hopes he can engorge himself on the very essence of you. He craves it, an itch in the back of his mind that won’t go away; to consume, to be consumed, until neither you nor him can be separated. He fills his lungs with your scent, ears attuned to the soft whimper of your voice, mouth latched onto your femoral artery and he thinks that this could be enough. 

The air around you shivers with the whine that leaves your mouth once he finishes. Over the past year you’d learned to find pleasure in the pain, learned to crave the feeling even. His mouth leaving your bloodied skin was a denial of that pleasure, the hollow ache in your chest incomparable to the mark he’d left on your skin. 

Again, Phinks reprimands you for being so greedy, for wanting even when he was willing to give. But right now his prize was staring back at him; lust blown pupils trained on his every move as he slinked his way back up your body.

He tastes himself on your tongue. To him, its a bitter tang compared to the sweetness of your blood, but he enjoys it all the same. Enjoys swallowing your moans, sounds made solely for his ears and his alone. He wonders in times like this if you ever regret letting him through the threshold of your tiny home. Allowing him entry when you were too clueless to know you’d dragged home a half dead, and malnourished, vampire.

He smirks at the memory of it. Of your fear, your helplessness as he pinned you down and nearly drank you dry. The only reason he’d stopped was the severity of his injuries. At the time, he had planned to use you as one does a cow for milk. Letting you rest until you’d regained enough blood to nurse him back to health. He’d hadn’t fallen asleep more than twenty minutes before a stake was driven through his chest, high enough that it wasn’t lethal, but deep enough to betray your courage, and he’d fallen for you just as easily as the stake had been pulled out.

Now you were a supplicant at his altar, open and inviting as the pink stain of your feast on his blood betrayed you. As your actions betrayed you. You were his, in every way that mattered, your spirit was intertwined with his own.

“Please Phinks. I need you.” Your pupils are dilated, breath heaving as you beg for him. For all of him.

His tone is dry, an honest smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he replies, “Of course you do.”

[miraelfe]

Lieutenant hisagi punishing his captain for not doing the paperwork by making her cockwarm him. He’d make her sit on his cock for hours, slapping her pussy every once in a while when he notices her hand stopped writing

Hisagi Shūhei X Reader

CW: cockwarming, spanking, clit/pussy slapping, soft dom!hisagi, teasing, semi-public sex, captain-lieutenant relationship, praise kink

a/n: god I love how your brain works anon <3

Hisagi was certainly a force to be dealt with when he got mad. It had been a last attempt to get you to finish your work. The deadline had already passed, but you couldn’t care less as you dumped the papers on his desk to go out drinking with Kyoraku.

Ignoring his shouts of your name, you flash-stepped out of the room before Hisagi could snatch you up. You thought you’d escaped his wrath for the day. But you made a terrible mistake.

Your precious lieutenant had been holed up in his office for the last week, trapped with the task of finishing the latest edition of the Seireitei Bulletin.

A stressed Hisagi meant a horny Hisagi.

You couldn’t get in a word of protest before he had dragged you out of the pub and back into your office. He pushed you inside the room, slamming you onto the desk.

His fingers made quick work with the bottom half of your shihakusho, slipping your hakama down your legs before his fingers latched onto the strings of your panties. He didn’t even bother taking them off before he ripped them apart at the seams.

You were about to berate him for ruining yet another pair before he slapped your ass. You yelped, falling across your desk in front of you. His palm flattened over the globe of your ass, soothing the sting before he landed another harsh slap. Another. And another.

You whimpered, bracing yourself on your forearms. His large hand came forward to grip your jaw, turning you towards him so he could place a searing kiss on your lips.

He could taste the sake on you, groaning into your mouth when you bit down on his bottom lip. His other hand snaked around your thigh, deft fingers sliding between your folds to find you all wet and ready for his cock.

He chuckled against your lips before he parted. “I didn’t know my captain was such a degenerate. Does getting your ass spanked by your lieutenant make you wet?”

You craned your neck towards him. “What’s this about, Shuuhei? Is it ‘cause I didn’t do the paperwork?” You smiled teasingly, rubbing your sore ass on his crotch, feeling his hard cock throbbing against your core.

He slapped your ass once more. “Uh uh. None of that. You-‘ his hand fumbled with his obi, untying it and slipping his bottom half off enough to slip his cock out, ‘are going to sit here and find ish signing the rest of the papers.”

Your eyes flitted towards the piles and piles of untouched documents. Groaning, you slumped onto the desk. You shook your hips towards him, eyes watching the way the thick, mushroom head of his cock flushed an angry purple, a pearly bead of precum sitting atop his slit.

His hand slowly fisted himself, and you licked your lips. You knew you were getting out of here without finishing your work, but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t tease him a bit more to test your luck.

“Oh come on, Shuuhei. Don’t be like that. I know a couple more things we could be doing instead.”you flashed him a sweet smile, and he internally groaned when your lithe fingers came to part your pussy lips, giving him the perfect view of your glistening cunt.

Your clit throbbed under his gaze, cunt clenching around nothing. He saw it all, and it took all of his willpower to not drop down on his knees and bury his face between your thighs. No, he needed to be strong.

“Nice try.” He pulled a chair from behind him. Sitting down, he pulled you on top of him, impaling you on his cock in one fluid motion. You moaned, head falling back on his shoulder.

You turned your head to pepper kisses on the side of his jaw, teasing his earlobe with your teeth. You tried to circle your hips around for some friction, but Hisagi had a death grip on them.

You felt his left hand grip the fat of your thigh, massaging it before his right hand came down to place a prompt slap on your clit. It was soft, but it made you yelp once more. Hisagi could feel your glare on the side of his face, but he could care less.

He pulled the first paper from the pile, dipping the pen in the ink before placing it in your hand. “Well, what are you waiting for, captain?”

Your eye twitched. “Are you serious?”

He raised a brow while looking down at you. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

You grumbled, giving up. You signed the first paper with ease. It made you hope that maybe you could get through all these papers in a few minutes. You didn’t account for your beloved lieutenant (more like the devil incarnated) to make it difficult for you.

He shifted in his seat during the 12th paper. His cock shifting inside you along with him. It was pressed up against your g-spot now. You knew he did it on purpose. Leave it to him to make even this, difficult for you.

His hands handy left your thigh, they ran up and down, occasionally squeezing it. His fingers flitted dangerously close to your cunt. Your clit hadn’t stopped throbbing, and you grew more wet as the time passed.

Hisagi felt it, your wetness pooling around his shaft, it gathered at the base until he felt some of it trickle down his balls. God, he wanted to fuck you so bad.

Unaware of his internal turmoil, you continued with your work, growing used to have him inside of you. You were almost done, the majority of the papers lay on the far end of your desk, your elegant signature adorning every single one.

Hisagi noticed. He’s always admired his captain for adapting to situations so quickly and easily. He didn’t realize you’d be so quick to get used to this as well.

No, he wasn’t going to just sit here and make this easy for you. This was supposed to be your punishment, for abusing your authority to get him to do your half of the paperwork.

He knew you didn’t mean anything bad by it. It’s just, he’s also been stuck with work for almost a week. That meant a week had gone by without him tasting your pussy. A week had gone by without him fucking your delicious cunt. Of course he’d grab this opportunity by the horns.

He wanted to get this over with so he could actually fuck you, but he certainly wasn’t going to let you get off this easy. Literally.

His fingers snaked close towards your sopping cunt. Index and middle finger settling on top of your wet and sensitive clit. Your breath hitched as you jumped on his lap.

His cock moved deliciously inside you, and you swore you felt it twitch. Your hand paused once more, not knowing whether you wanted to let him keep rubbing your clit for you, or take his hand off of you so you could get these hellish papers over with.

You really needed to talk to Head Captain Yamamoto about the ungodly amount of paperwork. You were broken out of your thoughts when Hisagi slapped your clit, a moan escaping his lips when he felt you tighten around him.

“Don’t stop. Keep working.” He whispered in your ear. You huffed, thighs closing around his hand to stop him from moving his fingers.

“I better get rewarded for this.” Hisagi chuckled, his hands wrenching your thighs apart.

“Of course, my love. As soon as you finish, you’ll get your reward.” That certainly spurred you on. Ignoring the splotch of ink on the previous paper scribbled with your unintelligible signature, you quickly moved onto the next one.

Hisagi leaned down to brush your hair out the way, his lips planting themselves in the junction of your neck. You leaned your neck to the side, humming lightly as his kisses traveled over to your shoulder.

His fingers were getting dangerously close to your clit once more, and his cock twitched inside you in anticipation. He wanted to feel you clench around his again.

Just as his thumb brushed against the hood of your clit, you slammed the last paper onto the desk. “Done!” You exclaimed.

Before you could even look at him, Hisagi had slipped you off of his cock, and placed you on the desk, sending the papers scattering all around the room.

He leaned forward to slip his tongue between your lips for a kiss. His hand worked through the top half of your uniform so he could expose your breasts.

With his fingers twisting a nipple, he angled his cock against your hole, massaging the tip against your clit. “Good girl.” He muttered against your swollen lips. “Now it’s time for your reward.”

[miraelfe]

Based on that one scene from mignon...you know the one I'm talking about

Big beefy needy boys who can’t wait to fuck you so they just push your panties to the side so they can sink their cock into you. He’s shaking from how badly he needs you. His cock drags along your gummy walls while he whimpers to you how it’s his first time. 

“Is this your first time?” he whimpers in your ear.

You can barely answer him when he’s plunging his cock into you nonstop. He has you in a mating press while he whispers the dirtiest thoughts in mind. His cock feels impossibly thick gliding in and out of you. 

“Fuck it’s so good baby” he whimpers.

You can only reply with whimpers of his name. His cock feels so deep inside of you. Your nails drag down his body as he thrust into you wildly. His whimpers and moans begin to fill the room, clouding your thoughts. He’s completely losing himself in you. The squelching sounds of your cunt has him desperately craving more. 

“Look at you, drooling all over my cock” he whimpers  “ Such a good girl for me” he breathes.

His breathing is shaky. He’s trembling as he fucks you. He feels like he might burst but he’s silently begging himself to hold it in. He wants to feel you, he needs to be inside of you feeling your warmth. The pleasure takes over him. He’s fucking into you at an animalistic pace. 

“Sl-slow down” you whine feeling yourself falling apart at his mercy. 

He can barely hear you over the loud slapping of his balls against your ass. His head is in the crook of your neck as he groans at the feeling of you stretching around his cock. 

“I’m gonna cum baby” he whines “ I’m gonna give you so much cum baby, fill you up and make you nice and full” he babbles.

Words spill past his lips like water. He’s babbling about how much he loves your pussy, how he wants to stay in it for forever.His cock twitches inside of you and you know he’s close. He sits up pulling you with him so that you're sitting on his lap. His hand slides underneath your panty to grip your hip so he can hold you up. He fucks up into you groaning at the way your chest jumps from each thrust. 

“Does that feel good baby?” he groans 

You nod your head barely able to form the words. Your moans fill the room you can barely think straight. It's too much the way he ruts his hips up into you. He’s looking into your eyes daring you to look away. He wants to see the pleasure across your face. He wants to watch how good he makes you feel. You mouth hangs open as moans spill past your lips as you beg him to fuck his cum into you.

“You’re clenching around my cock so much baby. You can cum if you want” he says breathless “Cum as much as you want baby, I’m not stopping though”

Bokuto, Oikawa, Ushijima, Atsumu, Suna,Gojo, Choso, Itadori, Geto

[miraelfe]

Uvogin x Reader NSFW

You can’t bend over in Uvogin’s presence.

I mean, physically, you can, but there’s always a consequence for it.

If you’re lucky, he’ll just give you ass a good squeeze or smack and he’ll be on his way.

And if you’re unlucky… well…

“Look at that…”

You shiver when you hear the purr in Uvogin’s voice, still bent over to pick up the lid of your water bottle that fell and rolled away. You attempt to straighten up, but his hand settles on the small of of your back, pushing you back down.

“Shh, stay like that. Just like that…”

His large hands grab your hips, and despite your size, you feel small in his grasp. Like a mouse being pinned down by a tiger.

His thumbs hook under the waistband of your shorts, yanking them and your panties down in one go.

“There’s my girl…” he almost coos, one thick digit sliding along your slit. His large tongue laps at your cunt, and you can only whine and tremble. The position he has you in isn’t exactly comfortable.

You feel his finger enter you, and despite the fact he’s done this before, it’s always difficult adjusting to how big even his fingers are. “Uvo…” you whine as your legs begin to buckle.

Uvogin laughs heartily, adding another finger as his tongue finds its way to your clit. “Gotta cum for me first, princess. Just focus on my fingers okay?”

You nod, holding onto the wall as best as you can. You try your best to focus on how his fingers feel inside you, how the small curling motion he does makes the coil in your stomach coil tighter and tighter.

Until it snaps.

“F-fuck, Uvo!” You cry out, moving your hips to meet his fingers as they thrust into you.

“That’s it, just like that princess. Cum all over my fingers.”

Once you’ve calmed down, he laps up all of your cum before helping you up.

He smirks, helping to pull your shorts up.

“Thanks for the snack, princess. Now how about I get the full course meal?”

[miraelfe]

Partnership

Yandere! Uvogin x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, stalking, theft, threats of violence, implied non-con, if your name is Stacy pretend it isn't, Stockholm Syndrome, brief mention of vomiting, Nobunaga is featured a bit in this but don't worry he doesn't want you, fem reader, MDNI

This is dedicated to @ramwrites, who is amazing and wonderful and offered to write me a welcome back gift, and I couldn't not give something back in return! Thanks for letting me write this for you; your writing is so good and makes me all giggly and inspired. For those interested, please check out her Shalnark piece - I haven't read it yet, but I'm sure it's just as good as everything else Ram produces.

WC: 10K

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy! 

“So you went and got yourself kidnapped, huh?” Uvogin asks, cocking a brow at you.

               You, who’s tied to a metal chair, gagged and blindfolded, very clearly having no fucking clue what is going on.

               You squirm, sitting up straight at the sound of a new, unfamiliar voice. Your cute little sleeping shorts had ridden up a bit, exposing more of your thigh than you were probably comfortable with, and Uvo notices with a distant sense of enjoyment that the thin nightshirt you’re sporting is doing very little to hide the way the cold air is affecting your chest.

               You’re weak, really; a pathetic little thing that has him scoffing and crossing his arms.

               “Listen up, I’m only gonna tell you this once. A friend of yours – Stacy, was it? Anyway, this friend of yours got herself noticed by the wrong type of guy.” He starts, plopping down and sitting in his own identical metal chair, just without the restraints.

               You stop struggling when he mentions her name, and he takes this as a sign to continue.

               “See, Nobuanga’s not a bad guy. He’s a little rough around the edges, sure, but any guy who isn’t is hardly worth knowing.” He chuckles at his own assessment of his closest friend, though you don’t seem to share the sentiment. “Stacy works at that shitty little restaurant he loves – the one with the sticky, greasy booths and the fries that come drenched with salt and are so limp they literally drip oil.”

               He shivers at the mere memory, the hamburger he’d ordered barely worth eating.

               “Don’t know what she did, exactly, but somehow he’s smitten – she’s got him all fucked up, ranting and raving about how beautiful she is and how she smiles at him all the time and flirts with him on the clock. Real annoying, if you ask me.” He sighs heavily, letting his thumb sit at his chin as he loses himself in the story of his best friend falling in love – with your best friend, no less.

               “And then she quit her job, I’m sure you know. Started working up at that movie theater – more shitty, oily food, just popcorn instead of fries this time.” He laughs again. “Nobunaga went crazy over that, you know, thinking that maybe she wanted to work in a more intimate setting like that so that he could sneak her off into some abandoned theater and get some one-on-one quality time, if you know what I mean.”

               You grimace, at both the implications of his last statement and the mention of Stacy quitting. You know exactly why she’d quit – it was the whole reason you’d been staying at her place, really. She was convinced she had a stalker, that there was this crazy man who used to bother her at the diner and follow her home. It’d scared her, obviously, and she’d requested – with a guilty look and fiddling thumbs – if you’d be willing to spend the next few nights are her place with her, because maybe if there was more than one person home he wouldn’t get gutsy and break in. Of course you’d agreed, believing her fully and not wanting to leave her alone to deal with this crazed freak.

               Although now, you’re starting to regret that decision just a bit.

               “As I’m sure you know, it didn’t change much. Pretty stupid, to be honest – if a stalker’s that dedicated, how the hell is a change of occupation going to change anything? Chick’s pretty dumb, if you ask me.” He shrugs, and although you can’t see it through your blindfold, you’re sure his face is awfully apathetic about the whole situation. “She was ignoring him, refusing to serve him at the theater, reporting him to her manager, even calling the police and getting a description of him circulating. She was going to get a restraining order against him, even – again, like that’d do shit.”

               He snorts, and you bite into the gag harder.

               Sighing, he looks up at the ceiling. “See, that’s the thing about Nobunaga. He might seem a little lazy sometimes, but he’s got a heart of gold when it comes to the ones he cares about. He’d do anything for that woman – steal for her, kill for her, anything at all. He’s a sap, totally obsessed with the chick, but it’s kind of sweet in a way, I guess. Means he really cares about her. Isn’t that funny? Her stalker really is in love with her.”

               You don’t find it particularly funny, but you can’t say much.

               “Anyways, the police finally got a sighting of him last night. Went through the system pretty fast – I’m a little impressed, to be honest. Normally takes those bastards much longer to process things. Regardless, a few too many sirens were going last night, even a few cars parked outside the apartment he’s been squatting in, yelling his name in those big, gaudy megaphones of theirs. Caused a real stir, and sent the guy into a panic.”

               He takes a moment to breath, tapping his foot lightly on the ground. “So what does he do? He calls me, in the middle of the night, talking so fast that I can’t even understand the guy. All I’m hearing is Stacy this, Stacy that, police and blah blah blah recognized. I had to force the words out of him before it made any sense, the idiot.” That same laugh rattles in your ears.

               “Eventually I got him to be coherent, and he told me that he had to ‘make his move’, whatever the hell that meant. Said he couldn’t wait anymore, that he had to take Stacy and run – the police were coming, and even though it’s not hard to take out a couple of poorly trained guys, it’s still a pain in the ass and Shizuku’s not here to clean up his mess.

               “Anyways, he starts begging me – literally, actually pleading with me, imagine that – to come and help him out. He told me there’s this other chick at her place – some girl she’s been keeping around for some unknown reason, and he needs someone to take care of the body.” Your blood goes cold, fear suddenly creeping back up your throat.

               Was he going to kill you? Why was he bothering to tell you all this if he was just planning on slicing open your neck? Did he find some sick pleasure in prolonging your death?

               He notices your discomfort, it seems, because soon he’s rolling his eyes, scoffing at you. “Calm down. You’re such a bad actor – can’t even see your face, really, and I know you’re scared shitless now. I’m not going to kill you, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

               You calm slightly, but not much.

               “As I was saying, there’s this girl he needs me to take care of – a quick death, nothing too flashy, which makes me immediately ask why the hell he’d request me of all people, when every time I kill it’s messy. It’s kind of my trademark, you know?”

               You didn’t, and you hoped it’d stay that way.

               He sighs again. “Anyways, I head on over to Stacy’s apartment, meeting Nobunaga outside and listening to him run down the plan. He’s going to run inside and knock her out, pulling her out of bed and running off to God knows where he’s got all set up for the two of them. And while he’s busy doing that, I’m supposed to head in and eliminate the friend. Seemed easy enough, if not a bit tedious, so I agree and we head inside, keeping mind of the sirens still in the distance.

               “Everything’s going smoothly, except once we get the front door open, it becomes very clear that Nobunaga was stupid and panicked and didn’t bother to doublecheck if Stacy was actually asleep.” He pauses to sigh dramatically, like it’s some big annoyance. “She’s fully awake, standing about ten feet away from the door, and then she starts fucking screaming.”

               You remember that bit – the screaming, that is, because it had woken you up from your slumber on Stacy’s couch. Everything is still blurry after that, disorientation fogging your brain from being so abruptly woken up.

               “She’s yelling and screeching, and if Nobunaga hadn’t been there I probably would’ve killed her myself just to get her to shut the fuck up. She’s got one of those high, shrill, shrieky voices, you know? The kind that really drive me up the wall - it’s damn annoying.” He pauses, looking at you skeptically. “Hope you haven’t got one of those, things’ll get messy real quick if you do.”

               You hope you don’t, either.

               “He rushes forward and tries to grab her, but she swats at him and, get this, manages to punch him in the dick.” He laughs aloud at that, slapping his knee and throwing his head back. “This weak-ass girl manages to get him on the ground flat, stupid ass’s hands clutching at his dick, and what does she do in the meantime? She runs over to the couch, grabbing this girl and staring back at me like I’m some monster.”

               You make a noise through the gag, but Uvogin ignores it.

               “I’ve gotta hand it to Stacy, though, she’s got guts. She starts yellin’ at us about how she won’t let us kill the girl, how she’ll kill herself before she lets us get our hands on her, and immediately Nobunaga crumbles. I don’t know why the idiot didn’t think of the possibility earlier, but he totally freezes up when she threatens that, just gaping like a fish. It was pretty awkward for me, to be honest, because watching him get so thoroughly rejected was giving me serious second hand embarrassment. I mean, the chick literally said she’d rather kill herself than let Nobuanga take her – pretty harsh if you ask me.”

               He looks back at your covered face, letting his gaze linger on the edges of the blindfold. “So he panics and gives into her demand, telling her he won’t kill her friend – says that he’ll just take her too, so that way everyone’s happy.”

               He frowns a bit at you, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, everyone except you, probably. And except Stacy, too, probably. And except me. So really, Nobunaga’s the only happy one.”

               Your face would sour if it was able to.

               “Anyways, it wasn’t hard to knock them both out and bring ‘em to their respective holding places. I’ve got no clue where the hell Nobunaga’s keeping his chick, but I’m sure you’ve figured out that you’re Stacy’s little friend.”

               You nod, slowly, the movement limited by your restraints. Your wrists have gone numb and your ankles feel bruised and sore, the ropes keeping them pinned the legs of the chair making blood flow difficult.

               “So, what to do with you now.” His voice is wistful, like he’s actually contemplating, and that same familiar fear washes over you again.

               He groans, the chair skidding out behind him as he stands to his full height. “Would you quit it with the fear? I already told you I’m not killing you, are you even listening to me?”

               You nod again, faster this time.

               Uvogin sighs, shuffling forward towards you. You can hear him approaching, and although your shoulders stiffen up, you try not to look as terrified as you feel. It doesn’t seem to work all that well, but he spares you another comment about it.

               Soon the blindfold is ripped off your head, leaving your hair messy and out of place, your eyes squinting and blinking rapidly to adjust to the rather bright white light hanging over you and what you can now see is an absolute behemoth of a man.

               He’s fucking huge – towering over you in every sense of the word, muscles practically bulging out of his body with how defined and massive they are. Black hairs cover every inch of his body you can see, even his arms and especially the bits of chest peeking out of his white top. Ragged, unruly hair sweeps down to his shoulders, making the muscles of his neck look even firmer, and you gulp. Any chance of escaping has basically left you now – there’s no way in hell you could ever beat that, especially if he’d already managed to kidnap you once.

               He clears his throat and your gaze is brought up to his face, a small, strange wave of embarrassment flooding through you as you realize you’ve been caught staring. He’s smirking, though, and you take in the sharp line of his jaw, the thick, dark eyebrows that frame equally dark eyes. He’s attractive, in a strange, rugged sort of way, and you immediately feel sick at the thought.

               “You like what you’re seein’?” He teases, and you immediately look away, still unable to reply with the gag covering your mouth.

               He laughs, and sets his hands on his lips. “Well, looks like you’re stuck with me. Before you freak out, I can’t kill you because that damn Stacy really seems to care about you, and she’s told Nobunaga she’ll kill herself if she doesn’t get regular proof that you’re still alive.”

               A flame of hope ignites in your chest, and internally you thank Stacy, even if this whole situation is less than ideal.

               He seems to sense your sudden upturn in mood, chuckling with a condescending lilt. “Oh no, princess, that doesn’t mean I’m letting you go. No, you’ve gotta stay put, because now that you know what I look like, you’ll go to the cops and report me as fast as those little legs of yours can manage.”

               You shake your head at that, eyes glistening with tears as he shuts down your last hope of escaping. Please, you internally beg him, hoping he’ll somehow be able to sense this too. I won’t, I promise!

               His gaze narrows at you, before that same smirk is back. “I’m sure if you could talk you’d be telling me how you’ll never tell a soul, but you and I both know that’s bullshit. So I’ll save us both some time and keep you here, so that I don’t have to track you down again and lock you back up once you’ve just gotten free.”

               You visibly deflate, and if Uvogin had been a kinder man, he would’ve almost felt bad for you. But instead, he just hums, crouching down in front of you. Even squatting he’s still taller than you, and it does nothing to make you feel less scared.

               “Now listen up, here are the rules. I’m a pretty nice guy, all things considered, so don’t break my rules and I won’t break your bones.”

               Your eyes get wide, but you nod along. He smiles, patting your knee.

               “That’s good, see? You’re already doing better than that Stacy girl, at least you’re not fighting me every step of the way.” Something about his statement makes guilt eat away at your chest – are you supposed to be fighting more? There doesn’t really seem to be a point – this man is massive, and you’re all bound and unable to move. You’re doing the best you can, right?

               “First,” He holds up a finger, “don’t even bother trying to escape. I’m bigger than you, faster than you, stronger than you, and smarter than you. There’s nothing you can try that I won’t see through, and you’ll end up regretting it more than you can imagine.

               “Second, no trying to hurt yourself. Nobunaga will kill me if I let you die, and it’d be a pain to deal with him.” He fixes you a stern look, and you nod.

               “Third, don’t go digging through my shit. I’m doing my buddy a favor by keeping you here, and if I find you snooping around… He didn’t say anything about roughing you up a bit, and it might be good for Stacy to see you with some bruises or a cast or two.” His threat doesn’t go unheard, and you nod again, throat bobbing as you swallow.

               He stares at you for a moment more, gaze calculating and judging whether you’ve really accepted his conditions, before strong fingers come up to untie the knot keeping your gag in place.

               “Don’t you scream, I’ll have to shut you up if you do.” He warns, before pulling the fabric away. Immediately you’re flexing your jaw, the muscle aching as you move it, and he watches with a neutral expression. You’re still tied up, unable to move really, and Uvogin gets a fleeting thought of how pitiful you look.

               “Um,” You start, your voice a bit hoarse from being so dry and unused for the last few hours. “What’s your name?”

               He blinks, before laughing a bit. “Of all the questions you could’ve asked, all the things you could’ve said and done as soon as you woke up from learning you’ve been kidnapped, and that’s what you chose? Shit, you wouldn’t survive in the wild, would you?”

               Shame creeps up your neck at his belittlement, but before you can defend yourself he’s answering. “It’s Uvogin.”

               You nod, not willing to look at him. It’s silent for a few moments, before he sighs again and reaches forward to untie the rope shackling your ankles and wrists. As soon as you’re free, you try to stretch out your limbs, keeping a weary eye on the man – Uvogin.

               What a stupid name.

               “Well, the fact that you’re not screaming your head off is a promising sign. Get up, I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.” He orders, already taking off towards the door in the corner of the small room. You try to follow him, but your legs aren’t moving right, and it takes you a while to make your way over there. He looks irritated at your lack of speed, but says nothing, only holding open the door until you make your way through.

               You’re led down into a rather sparse apartment, only furnished with a single gray couch against one wall (with a few stains on it that make you wince a bit), a TV and some cabinets, a wooden table and two chairs, and a beat-up fridge in the adjoining kitchen. Everything’s clean, but the space lacks any sort of personality, and it makes you uncomfortable.

               “That’s your bed, extra blankets are in the closet. If you need anything tell me, and I might snag it for you next time I’m out on a job.” Something about the way he says ‘snag’ makes you nervous, so you just mutter a small affirmation.

               He gives you one last glance over, his eyes once again lingering on your chest, before stepping through the doorway.

               “Wait, Uvogin!” Your voice, a bit wobbly and unsure, makes him turn back, his brow cocked and curiosity dancing on his features. (And a bit of surprise, too, because he hadn’t expected you to say anything to him, or even use his name. Maybe you weren’t as skittish and weak as you seemed – though, he doubted that.)

               “Um, is it possible for me to see Stacy soon?” You asked, voice growing smaller with every word. He blinks, before standing up a bit straighter.

               “Actually, you’re in luck. Nobunaga called me about an hour ago and let me know we’re meeting up in a few days – he said it would be good for Stacy to have a ‘playdate’ with you. Whatever the fuck that means.” Uvogin shrugs, looking entirely uninterested, and you bristle at Nobunaga’s choice of words. Poor Stacy.

               Excitement brews in your chest; at least you’ll have a familiar face, and hopefully the stranger hasn’t done anything too terrible to your friend. Nodding, you glance back to the floor, wishing the hulking man staring at you would just leave. He does, a few moments later, and only then do you allow yourself to slump onto the bed he’s assigned you. The bedroom is bare like the rest of the home, with a twin bed set in the corner and a small set of drawers sitting nearby. It makes you laugh humorlessly – were you supposed to fill that chest? With what? You hadn’t brought anything with you, and you seriously doubted Uvogin would let you return home to grab some of your clothes.

               Sighing, you sat onto the bed, the mattress firm under you. Distantly, some part of you was pleased – at least the bed would be comfortable enough.

               Time passes slowly as you sit on the bed – not your bed, not yet. You stare at the wall ahead of you, the fear slowly seeping out of your system until only exhaustion remains. Sleep eventually takes over, and although you try to fight it, you’re slipping into a dreamless slumber before long.

               Uvogin’s tolerable, you’ve found. He’s certainly not nice, nor is he an especially great person to be around, but he could be much worse, you suppose. He’s fed you twice daily for however long you’ve been stuck here (it feels like a week, so you’re assuming it is, if only to stave off any self-doubt that’s creeping into the corners of your mind), and the food’s not terrible. It’s clearly takeout, the packaging sometimes even having Chinese characters on it or restaurant logos, and you’ve been mostly satisfied with his choices so far. He’ll sometimes ask you what you want, and while you were too scared to answer the first few times (which only makes him scowl and roll his eyes, muttering a small damn, Nobunaga owes me one), eventually you’d felt safe enough to be honest.

               He hasn’t hurt you, either. At least, not yet. You’re aware he could, if he wanted to – those muscles make it hard to forget, and you’d seen him crush his phone in his hand like a bug when a phone call with someone named Franklinwent poorly.

               He’s scary, still, but you’ve reached the point now where you aren’t practically hyperventilating every time he enters the room. You still keep him in your field of vision, weary for any sudden changes in his behavior, but every day that passes has you growing more complacent with your position. The constant threat of Stacy potentially facing consequences for your actions doesn’t deter you from being on your best behavior, either.

               Besides, sometimes he’s even a little bit funny – not that you’d ever laugh at his jokes, but he has this weird sense of humor that you think you’d like, if the situation had been different. If you’d met him on the street you definitely would’ve tried to cross to the other side, but you would’ve found him oddly charming, his snide remarks and cocky air a bit entertaining.

               You try not to think about that, though, because the mere presence of these thoughts means the Stockholm Syndrome is starting to kick in. And while you aren’t the most resilient person on the planet, even you have to admit it’s a bit early for that.

               Sighing, you take another bite of the curry he’d brought you, pleasantly surprised that the spice level was perfect. Uvogin didn’t have many rules, it was true, but he did have a few unspoken ones – one of which being that meals, particularly take-out meals, were to be eaten at the small, rickety table. Together, which wasn’t ideal.

               “I’ve gotta make sure you don’t try to starve yourself or choke.” He’d told you the first time, grabbing your shoulders and forcing you into the seat across from his, the noodles sitting in front of you still packaged neatly in their container. At first you’d been nervous he would try to poison you, but eventually hunger got the best of you and you were slurping the noodles down, still keeping a nervous eye on the hulking man in front of you.

               “So, big news.” He starts, taking a bite out of his chicken. He always took big bites, you’d noticed, but he ordered enough food that even if his pace was twice as fast as yours, he never finished before you.

               You glance up at him, trying not to let toomuch curiosity show on your face, but he seems to realize anyway.

               “I know you haven’t been up to much, but don’t make your excitement so obvious. Hurts my feelings to know you think I’m so boring.” He’s joking, you think, and to sate him you attempt to smile.

               “Nobunaga called me again this morning; today’s the day.”

               You practically choke on your food, eyes blowing wide and your hands beginning to shake. Finally, finally you’d be able to see Stacy – you’d been worried sick about her the last week or so, terrified that her transition to the life of being a captive hadn’t gone as smoothly as your own. (You snorted bitterly at that – smooth probably wasn’t the best word for how you’d been feeling, but at least you hadn’t been hit yet, or assaulted or any number of things. Hopefully Nobunaga wasn’t any worse of a person than your own captor.)

               Uvogin is watching you, you realize, with a strange look in his eye. As soon as you glance up at him you look away again, clearing your throat and trying to keep your voice even as you ask, “That’s good, it’ll be nice to see her again.”

               It’s silent for a moment, before his booming laugh makes you wince a bit. “Yeah, I’m sure you are. Finish up, I don’t like wasting food. Once you’re done we’ll head out - try to not to choke.”

               He says that right as you start shoveling the food into your mouth, hoping that eating quicker will mean you can see Stacy quicker. He chuckles at you, but you follow his orders and slow down a bit. He throws you one more glance, that cocky smile on his lips, before digging into his own food again.

               He’s eating a bit faster than normal, too, you notice.

               He apologizes with an insincere tone as he ties the blindfold back on you (he’d told you that you can’t know where you are just in case you decide to get rebellious and run away), and soon you’re stuffed into a car. Everything’s hard to keep track of when you can’t see, but Uvogin’s talking (like normal), so you try to tune into the sound of his voice to help the time pass.

               “Now listen, you might not wanna touch her too much, Nobunaga’s a bit…” He trails off, and you can hear his hand tightening on the steering wheel. “Possessive. You’re her friend and all, and I’m sure he won’t hurt you, especially not in front of her, but be careful.”

               You nod, absentmindedly.

               “Also, don’t be too surprised if she doesn’t look the way she used to. He was always going on about how she was dressed too inappropriately in her day-to-day life, so she might be a little underdressed.”

               He’d hesitated to say underdressed, and you tried not to think about what that could mean.

               It’s quiet for a few moments, and you shift in the car seat. He’d let you sit in the front, an unexpected luxury, but you didn’t like that he could see you while you couldn’t see him. He wouldn’t hurt you, you were mostly confident of that now, but who knew what he had planned.

               “We’re almost there. If things go badly, I’ll get you out of there. You’re pretty damn weak, a broken bone would probably take a few weeks for you to heal. I don’t want to deal with you being injured, and I’m sure you don’t, either.”

               Your lips must’ve given away your fear, because a moment later he’s sighing. “Did you know that you practically reek your emotions? I feel like I can smell ‘em, even when I can’t even see half your damn face.”

               You don’t have anything to say to that, but you force yourself to speak anyway, not wanting to dignify his last comment. “Do you think – well, do you think Nobunaga will want to hurt me?”

               Uvogin ponders your question for a moment, surprised that you’d spoken up. You hadn’t done much talking in the time he’d had you – he was sure it was because you were scared, but it was nice to hear you talking to him like you weren’t scared shitless of him. Even if you had every reason to be so terrified.

               “Honestly, probably. Especially if you touch her.”

               You suck in a breath, and Uvogin hums. “But it’s not going to happen.”

               “What do you mean?”

               You could practically hear his toothy grin.

               “It’s my job to protect you, right? So I will. Even if the one you need protecting from is the same guy who wants you to be protected.”

               Something in his tone gives you the impression he means those words more than he’s letting on, and you shiver as you imagine just who this Nobunaga guy could possibly be.

               “Oh my god, oh my god – you’re alive! Thank god!” Stacy sobs, arms wrapping around you like a vice before you can even respond. You clutch her back just as tightly, burying your face into her brown curls, a few tears pricking at your eyes. You’d been nervous that Nobunaga would’ve hurt her, with the way Uvogin was describing him, but after a thorough look-over, you find no bruises or marks marring her olive skin.

               Eventually she pulls back, but keeps her hands firmly grasping your shoulders. Her eyes are red with tears, and her lower lip is wobbling. She’s not hurt, but she looks bad – there’s heavy bags under eyes and her hair is frazzled, her lips look swollen and she’s clutching onto you hard. Really hard.

               “Stacy, are you hurt?” You ask, letting your hands cup her cheeks. You see Nobunaga – who Uvogin had pointed out with a small that’s the guy when you’d walked in – stiffen up at that, and Uvogin’s warning flashes through your mind. You might not want to touch her. Right.

               Stacy glances over at her captor, and you follow her gaze, only to see Uvogin give you a small nod and drag his friend out the door by the collar of his purple kimono, calling over his shoulder that they’ll be back in exactly five minutes, and that they’ll know if you try to escape.

               As soon as the door closes, Stacy pulls you in for another hug, the words flying out of her mouth so quickly you can barely understand her. “He’s – Nobunaga, he’s horrible. He never leaves me alone, and he treats me like I’m some incompetent little baby, and he’s always touching me and I just – I can’t –“

               You cut her off by pressing her face into your neck again, rubbing the back of her head and letting her cry. You’re crying too, now, but your tears fall silently compared to her sobbing.

               You don’t say much, because what can you say? It would be a lie to tell her that everything’s going to be okay, and every other reassurance that dances on the tip of your tongue just feels wrong, like you’d be pointedly lying to her. Instead, you let her get it out, her grip on you never loosening. You’d known Nobunaga had been the root of all her anxieties the last few months, long before he’d gotten the gall to kidnap her. And while you were happy that she wasn’t hurt, it still pained you to see her like this.

               Eventually she’d calmed down, and you feel her pull back and wipe at her sniffling nose. “I’m so sorry.” She whispers to you, looking like she’s on the verge of crying again. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this mess, I should’ve just gone quietly and left you alone. I shouldn’t have asked you to stay with me for a few weeks, now you’re really stuck with that monster.”

               You don’t tell her that it’s okay, because it’s not. Some part of you is still bitter and resentful towards her for involving you, because she’s right. You could be still living your life if she hadn’t requested you to help deter her stalker from making a move. But despite your anger, you can’t find it in yourself to hate her. Not when she’s like this – not when she’s probably experiencing something even worse than you.

               “It doesn’t matter now, all that matters is that we’re both alive, and we’re both okay. Or, at least, okay as we can be, given the situation.” You tell her, smiling softly. She blinks at you, eyes wide and vulnerable, before nodding and swallowing.

               “Yeah, I was worried that you wouldn’t be, with the way Nobunaga was talking about Uvogin.” Her voice was hoarse still, and you laughed humorlessly at that.

               “Yeah, well, he hasn’t hurt me yet, so I think I’ll be okay. He mostly just ignores me, honestly, so I guess I’m lucky.” Your attempt at optimism doesn’t make Stacy smile like you’d hoped. Rather, her lips pull into a frown and her eyebrows furrow.

               “He ignores you? That doesn’t make sense.”

               You expression mirrors hers. “What? I mean, the only reason I got kidnapped too was insurance so that you wouldn’t kill yourself –“

               Stacy’s face morphs into one of horror, and her grip on your shoulders goes slack.

               Quickly you’re backpedaling, worried the mention of her self-imposed death might’ve triggered something you wanted to avoid. “I’m not saying it’s your fault, I totally understand why you –“

               “Alright, time’s up.” Nobunaga’s voice interrupts, and knuckly hands are suddenly on your shoulders, pushing you aside so that Nobunaga can stand in front of Stacy. You stumble back, falling backwards against Uvogin’s hard chest, immediately standing up straight.

               Nobunaga’s cupping Stacy’s chin, and you can see from this angle the way he smiles, a slight pink color flooding his cheeks. It makes you sick, and the pained look on Stacy’s face only makes your gut sink more. She’s looking at you still, and something about the way her brows are cocked inward that makes you feel like she’s almost pitying you.  

               “Did you miss me, baby?” Nobunaga’s cooing down at her, and it makes your skin crawl. Uvogin sighs from behind you and grabs your wrist, dragging you out of the room. His grip is surprisingly gentle, and as you watch Stacy slowly fade from your view, you can’t help but be slightly grateful that at least your captor isn’t leaning down for a kiss like hers.

               The car ride home is mostly quiet, and it’s not until you’re nearing the end of your time in the vehicle that Uvogin breaks the silence.

               “So, what did you talk about while we were gone? Girly shit?” You think he’s attempting a joke, but you can’t even pretend to laugh at it.

               “She’s not happy.” You comment, voice slightly flat, and Uvogin snorts at your words.

               “Of course she’s not happy, she’s just been kidnapped. And by her stalker, no less – would anyone be happy? Hell, are you happy?” He asks you, and you blanch at his question. Somehow, though, it feels like some sort of trap, so you stay quiet.

               He doesn’t say anything more until he’s pulling you out of the car, your footsteps hesitant and clumsy because he’d put that damn blindfold on you again. He guides you up to the apartment, and soon you’re standing in the living room area, the fabric falling from your eyes.

               “I’ve got some errands to run today, so I’ll be gone for a while. Do you want anything while I’m out?” He asks, standing in front of the door with his arms crossed. You’re a bit touched that he’s offering to get you something, but you try not to focus on it. Of course you’re feeling grateful for him – he may be holding you captive, yes, but at least he hasn’t tried to kiss you or touch you. Poor Stacy didn’t share your luck.

               “Um, maybe some chips? I don’t care what flavor, just something crunchy…” You trail off, looking at him nervously. You’d never requested anything before, and some part of you is convinced he’d only asked you the question to laugh in your face and deny you.

               He cracks a smile and nods, hand already on the doorknob. “Okay. Okay, but you’d better be prepared to share, because I happen to be a big chip fan myself. So don’t get greedy, yeah?”

               You half-smile, rubbing at your arm. “Yeah, I won’t be.”

               He steps out the door, and once again the apartment is silent, his presence gone and all movement within the room gone, too.

               The TV won’t work for you, you know that, but you’re still trying to get it to behave. Uvogin had to type in some password every time he turned it on, and it was too long and encoded for you to ever be able to decipher it. Still, you were clicking the power button of the remote over and over, hoping against hope that it would somehow short circuit and bypass that password screen. When it didn’t, you only sighed, rising to your feet and wandering towards the monitor.

               Uvogin, you’d learned, was surprisingly meticulous – surprisingly organized, really. Meaning there was a chance he’d written down the password to the TV and had it stored somewhere. He’d only been gone for about a half hour, if the clock was any indication, and you had a lot of time to kill before he returned home. Not that he was your only source of entertainment – though, you’d read the single book he owned three times already.

               Your knees crack as you kneel down in front of the cupboard the TV was sitting on, the wooden doors creaking as they open. The shelves are mostly empty – a few older remotes, and a cable channel guide.

               Frustrated, you huff and let your shoulders slump, trying to decide what to do next. The TV obviously wasn’t planning on cooperating, though there was a cupboard right next to the one you’re searching through that could potentially hold the answer.

               Uvogin’s rules distantly float through your mind, his gruff voice replaying in perfect clarity. Third, don’t go digging through my shit. Glancing back up the clock, you bite your lip. You had time, because while he was massive and huge and scary, there was no way he could get all his errands done in just thirty minutes.

               With a deep breath, you move over to the other cabinet, letting your fingers curl around the knob. The doors don’t creak when they open, and immediately you’re scanning the shelves. These ones are full – with boxes, each labeled with a date on them. Cocking a brow, you examine the dates. January 4th – January 25th, April 29th – May 7th, and so on.

               Intrigued, you slowly slide out one of the boxes, noticing not a single bit of dust is sitting on the cover. He must use this cabinet much more often than the one you’d been searching through previously, as a thick layer of dust had sprung up in your face the moment you opened the cabinet door.

               The box itself is light, but you still set it down in front of you, your fingers delicate and careful, too worried that you’ll break something if you press too hard. And then Uvogin would know, surely, especially if he truly used this cabinet that often.

               Slowly, you take off the box’s cover, and immediately your brows are scrunching together. What the hell?

               When you’d imagined the kind of ‘shit’ Uvogin didn’t want you to snoop through, you hadn’t pegged it to be this. Whatever this was, that is.

               It looked like a box full of receipts – tons of pieces of paper, all in weird sizes or shapes that looked like they were ripped out of some sort of notebook. The handwriting is messy, the letters all crammed together and difficult to decipher. You pick the paper on top up, turning it this way and that, trying to read the text.

               Her: Sorry, I know it’s late, but I need to ask you a quick question.

               Them: Yeah? What’s up?

               Her: Do you think he’s alright? Chris, I mean – he hasn’t called me back for a few days, and I’m worried about him.

               Them: You know Chris, it always takes him a while to respond. I wouldn’t worry, he’s just unpredictable.

               Her: Yeah, I guess…

               [6 second pause]

               Them: Go to sleep, it’s late. You’ve got work in the morning, right?

               Her: Yeah, I do. Okay, okay, I’m getting into bed now. Goodnight.

               Them: Goodnight, call me when you hear back from him.

               Her: Okay.

               What was this? The ambiguity of it all confused you – who was her? Them? Chris?

               You furrowed your brows, confusion sitting in your gut alongside a strange feeling. The hairs at the back of your neck prickled up, and a small pang of unease bolted through you.

               Setting the piece of paper back into the bin, you picked up another one. This one was shorter, more to the point.

               Her: Are we still on for Friday night?

               Them: Yeah! Freddy’s, nine o’clock sharp. I’m buying, remember.

               Her: You always say that, and you always get too shit faced to pay. Liar!

               Them: Hey, I just know how to have fun! You could learn how to do that, you know.

               Her: Yeah yeah, okay, I’ll see you later.

               Your fingers are shaking as you finish reading the small, triangular slip of paper. Your lips are slightly parted, brows still crunched together. Something about the interaction between Her and Them felt oddly familiar – like something you’d heard before.

               And the mention of Freddy’s. That’d been the name of a bar you frequented often with your friends, back before everything had gone to shit with Stacy.

               Unnerved, you set the piece of paper back in the box and slide the box into its place on the shelf, running your eyes back over the listed date. August 28th – September 16th. One of your best friend’s birthdays was in that range.

               Wiping your palms on your thighs, you try to calm the pounding of your heart. Something feels off, wrong in a way you can’t quite place. Surely, Freddy’s is a common enough name; it doesn’t necessarily mean your favorite bar. Plus, even if it does mean that particular bar, who knew who these people were. You surely don’t - who the hell is Chris?

               Wanting to put some distance between you and the cabinet, you get to your feet again and close it, wandering away into the little hallway connecting the living space, bathroom and two bedrooms. Cupping some water in your hands from the bathroom sink, you splash your face, letting the cold wash over your skin. Closing your eyes, you try to calm down. It doesn’t mean anything – how could it? You’re probably just all shaken up after seeing Stacy and her freaky captor. Nobunaga disturbed you, you can’t deny it.

               Sighing, you open your eyes, wiping your face with your towel. (Uvogin had been kind enough to give you one designated as your own, saving you from the horrible fate of having you dry your body with a towel that he’d already used.) Though you notice with a small start that the towel is wet, despite you not having showered recently. Odd.

               As you turn to leave the room, you notice a shirt sitting piled up in the corner. It was black, and surely not your own – holding it up, it looked big enough to dwarf you. Must be Uvogin’s, then.

               His bedroom is across from your own, and while you haven’t been inside it yet, it feels wrong to just leave his shirt on the floor, where it could get dirty and maybe even moldy. Besides, doing a little cleaning would keep you occupied – both from boredom, and from contemplating those weird slips of paper further.

               You slowly open the door, immediately getting hit with a wave of musk. Uvogin normally smelled decent, but the scent in here is strong enough to make you wince a bit, the overwhelming stench of sweat, mint, and male making you a bit nauseous. To your surprise, the room is spotless – a very, very large bed sits floated in the middle, a navy and black flannel comforter covering the top while a few large, puffy pillows sit at attention at the head. A few pairs of boots are lined up in the corner, and a single picture looks to be taped up on the wall above them. Curiously, you step forward, moving towards the photo.

               Uvogin had told you very little about himself – only that he worked as a contractor, of sorts, and that he didn’t have too many friends, so you wouldn’t have to worry about visitors. But now that you’re looking at the photo, you’re wondering if maybe that last statement hadn’t been so true – the photo is of a dozen or so people, all posing for the camera with various degrees of a smile on their face. Uvogin’s in the back, on the left side, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of a shorter blond man, his blue eyes in a wink and holding up his thumb. Uvogin’s smiling, and as you scan the photo, you stop when you hit Nobunaga, who’s seated in the front row next to a woman with big glasses and a modified cross necklace. Everyone looks happy, and briefly you wonder whether Uvogin considers these people friends. He must, if Nobunaga’s present – an odd sort of satisfaction worms its way into your chest at the thought. You don’t like Uvogin, surely not – but still, everyone needs friends, right? Even kidnappers.

               God, you really are starting to develop Stockholm Syndrome.

               Shaking your head to try and clear the thoughts, you approach his closet and snag a hanger, trying to hang up the shirt you’re holding in your arms. The thing is tall, and as you try to get the hanger’s hook to wrap over the metal bar, your eyes fall to the side, noticing something out of the corner of your vision.

               It’s a soft pink, and you cock a brow. Uvogin? Owning something pink?

               Eventually, and with a soft grunt, you get the hanger to successfully sit onto the bar, and immediately you’re investigating the pink thing. This goes directly against his rules, you know – you’re quite literally snooping, but hopefully he’d still be out for longer. Besides, even if he comes back, you could just tell him you’re putting away his shirt, and maybe he wouldn’t call you on your half-lie.

               Whatever the thing is, it’s wedged pretty far back in the closet – you’d only managed to catch a brief glimpse of it, and for good reason. There’s a storage container in the back of the closet, an organizer of sorts with some compartments that all seem to be stuffed full. It’s hard to see, the overhead light dim to begin with and not penetrating too deeply into the dark closet, but you’re able to fish out the pink fabric soon enough.

               It's lace, you realize, your curiosity only doubling. That same pin-prickly feeling is back, and as you slowly flatten out the cloth, your breath catches.

               It’s a thong. Pink and lacy, with a bow decorating the back, right over the tailbone.

               But more than that, the thong looks familiar. There’s a thread pulled on the front right side, and a stain on the fabric at the very bottom, looking awfully similar to the color your own discharge makes once it’s been washed.

               Your fingers are shaking again, and you stumble back a bit, the back of your knees catching onto the bed so that you fall back and land on your ass, too busy staring at the cloth in your hands to bother trying to situate yourself.

               These panties are yours.

               You’re sure of it – you know because Stacy bought them for you a few months ago. She’d cheekily handed them to you with a big, gaudy bow on top, a wink sent your way and a demure because I know you’ve got a date tonight, and I also know you haven’t gotten laid in way too long. That was the night you’d been set up on a blind date with a friend’s coworker. He’d been nice, though you hadn’t slept with him, and you hadn’t gone out again after that. He didn’t seem all that interested in you as a romantic pursuit, but he was funny, and you’d hoped you could become friends, at least.

               And his name was Chris. And he’d gone missing a few days after.

               You drop the panties, a hand coming up to cover your mouth.

               You don’t want to, and you know you shouldn’t, but before you can stop yourself you’re rushing forward to the closet, digging back to that storage compartment and rooting around for anything else you can find. It must be a coincidence; it has to be a coincidence. These can’t be your panties, you must be mistaken – why would Uvogin have these? How could he have these? You’d lost them in the laundry a while back.

               At least, that’s what you’d assumed.

               Pulling your hand back, you see you’ve grabbed a few items. They’re smaller, not clothing, but nonetheless incriminating. There’s a chapstick container, with a strange flavor on it that you’ve only seen once, back when you won it in some weird fundraising fair you’d been at for your job. Kiwi banana grape, it said in curling black lettering, and when you pop open the top, you notice it’s almost completely empty.

               There’s also a button; it’s black with a strange shape, one you recognize as being from your favorite jacket. It’d fallen off one day, but you’d been too busy walking around the city to have realized. It was a real bummer, because it’d rendered the jacket unwearable because too big a draft would sneak through it.

               And lastly, there’s a bandaid – it’s old, you can tell, with a kiddy pattern of some fairies and a dinosaur on it that the nurse had apologized for having to use, telling you it was all they had available at the time. You remembered it – it’d made you laugh that you’d gotten your flu shot and she’d patched it up with a bandaid designed for six year olds, even going so far as to snap a photo and send it in the group chat you kept with your friends.

               You feel sick.

               Throwing the small items back into the compartment, you rush to the bathroom, barely making it before you’re heaving, all the curry you’d forced down your throat earlier coming right back up.

               What the fuck?

               Who was Uvogin? Why did he have all of this? How did he have all of this? What did it mean? Your head’s rushing, too many thoughts and implications swimming through your oversaturated mind, and you have just barely enough strength to flush the toilet and stand up, staring at yourself in the mirror.

               Stacy’s words rush back to you as you examine your face, seeing your wide eyes and the way your chest is rising and falling with each harsh breath slipping through your lips. He ignores you? That doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense – none of it at all. Why would your by-association captor have any of your personal items? Especially personal items you’d lost or thrown away literal months ago, long before you’d ever started staying over at Stacy’s?

               You know why, you just don’t want to admit it, and as you stare at yourself in the mirror, you try to come up with any other possible explanation. No. It can’t be. Stacy’s the one with the creepy stalker, not me.

               Suddenly, the sound of the front door’s lock clicking open makes you snap up, adrenaline suddenly coursing through your veins. Uvogin’s home.

               Immediately you’re running to your bed, jumping under the covers and shutting your eyes tightly, praying that Uvogin will think you’re asleep and won’t bother you. You need more time to figure this out – it’s all too much, and while it probably won’t be any easier the longer you wait, you need something.

               You can’t look at him yet. You won’t.

               “I got your chips! Didn’t know which flavor to choose, so I got three I think you might like. I’m serious, though, you have to share. I’m an animal, and I will steal your food.” He laughs at that, and you hear him set down the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. Your eyes are still closed so tightly that it hurts, and you ball your fists up in the blankets as hard as you can. You’d curled up into a fetal position, and you force yourself to stay still as you hear his loud footsteps coming down the hall.

               He calls your name, peeking his head into every room he passes. Soon he sees you in your bed, and although you look a little stiff, his shoulders immediately lose their tension. A smile flits across his lips, and he slowly, quietly shuts the door, retreating back to his own room.

               You sigh, peeling open your eyes and trying to get your breathing under control. You’d been holding your breath, and now that he’s actually home in the apartment, it’s difficult to not let yourself panic.

               It becomes much, much more difficult when you hear a noise come from his bedroom, though. What the hell’s this?

               There’s a muffled curse, and your blood runs cold as quick, heavy footsteps lead right up to your door. He swings it open and your eyes fly shut, trying desperately in vain to appear like you’re still sleeping.

               “Wake the fuck up.” He says, and immediately you open your eyes, your fear too strong to ignore. He’s holding the pink panties in his hands, and you realize with a small burst of terror that in your haste to get to the bathroom, you’d left them on the floor. In his room. Right where he can see that they’ve been moved.

               Fuck fuck fuck.

               "I only have three rules. What are they?” He barks, and you’re trying to curl up even smaller, hoping his promise of not hurting you will still ring true. Though, he’s lied about pretty much everything else – how do you know if that part wasn’t all a lie, too?

               “No hurting myself, no escaping, and no – no snooping.” You whisper, and Uvogin bares his teeth.

               “I’ve been good to you – patient, something that takes a hell of a lot of effort for me. And what do you do in return? You go and do one of the very few things I’ve forbidden.” He looks impossibly tall right now, towering over you with those muscles, the panties looking downright tiny between his monstrous fingers. “Tell me why. Explain to me why the hell you were snooping through my closet.”

               You shut your eyes again, too scared to look at him. “I was putting away a shirt you left in the bathroom. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did it, please don’t hurt me, please –“

               He interrupts you with a huff, and you tense up, waiting for some blow to land. It doesn’t, though, and after a good thirty seconds, you finally peel an eye open, almost too scared to see what he’s doing.

               You don’t expect the small smile that’s sitting on his lips, nor the hand on his hip. He locks his eyes with yours, then sighs. “Well, this is most definitely not the way I wanted you to find out. See, I had this whole plan – Nobunaga came up with it, one of the very few things he’s ever thought of that actually impressed me.”

               You’re confused again, but that sick feeling still hasn’t gone away. All you can seem to look at are your panties, wedged in his fist.

               “He told me that since you and Stacy were so close, we could cut a deal – kidnap you both at once, get more bang for our buck. There was no way to hide Nobunaga’s feelings for Stacy, sure, but you? Well, you haven’t noticed anyone following you, have you?” Uvogin asks, cocking his head at you and letting his smile get a bit wider.

               You quickly shake your head no.

               “I’m better at this stuff than he is. He always gets too excited to talk to her, wants to interact and have her lookin’ at him. I get it, I really do. Even now, even with you scared shitless and looking at me like I’m about to kill you, just you acknowledging me is getting me hard as a fucking rock.”

               Involuntarily, your eyes dart down to his navel, and with a small, strangled sound of fear, you notice the way there’s a prominent bulge forming in those shorts of his.

               He laughs at your change in focus, and steps forward. Hooking a finger under your chin, he smirks down at you. “I’m better at hiding myself, and I was willing to play the long game, content with watching you until the right time came to snatch you up. But when Nobunaga offered, telling me there was a way to get you all to myself and make sure you grew to want me organically? Well, I couldn’t resist, could I?”

               You want to tell him he absolutely could’ve, or that you wouldn’t have ‘wanted him organically’, whatever the hell that meant, but your tongue doesn’t seem to be working.

               He leans down, face coming closer and closer to yours. “You had no idea, did you? How do you think I knew what kind of mattress to get you? How do you think I knew exactly what to order for you for takeout, even when you were too scared to tell me? How do you think I know what shampoo and conditioner to buy you, or even what kind of fucking cologne you like? Believe me, I’m only wearing this shit for you.”

               You’re frozen, unable to move, unable to do anything but stare at him.

               “Do you get it now, princess? See, Nobunaga doesn’t give two shits about whether you live or die – he’ll get Stacy to do what he wants no matter what. But me? I give a shit.” He’s so close to you that you can smell his breath. It’s minty, like he’s just recently brushed his teeth. The cold smell only makes you shiver, fear still tingling up your spine.

               “Why?” You whisper, overwhelmed at his sudden confession.

               He pauses at that, smirk falling away as he genuinely considers your words. He’s quiet for a moment, before he smiles again, but this time it’s not as predatory – there’s something oddly soft about it, and it makes you feel worse.

               “Because you’re perfect. That’s all.” He answers like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and before you can say anything he’s clambering on the bed next to you. You want to fight him off, to jump up off the bed and run, but you can’t seem to find the energy to. Besides, you’re not delusional enough to think you could beat Uvogin in any sort of physical altercation or chase. And while he still seemed to be adhering to his promise of not hurting you, you didn’t feel like testing the waters.

               “So I guess the jig’s up. I was hoping you wouldn’t find out, but I can work with this, too. At least now I don’t have to act like I don’t know you. And now, I don’t have to do all that respectful distance shit – you’re mine now, babe, and now I don’t have to hide it.” He’s grinning again, his teeth looking too sharp, and before you can blink he’s above you, your wrists pinned above your head and his lips inches away from yours.

               “So why don’t I show you just how much your attention the last week’s been affecting me?” His voice is low, sultry, and makes you gulp. He presses his face into your neck, deeply inhaling and groaning. “I promise I can make you feel good… I’ll tell you my last rule, okay?”

               You’re frozen, but when he pulls back to glare at you, you shakily mutter out an ‘okay’.

               His grin is wolfish, predatory, scary. “Rule number four is no running away from me, even if that cute little body of yours can’t take anymore. Got it?”

               You nod.

[miraelfe]

Partnership

Yandere! Uvogin x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, stalking, theft, threats of violence, implied non-con, if your name is Stacy pretend it isn't, Stockholm Syndrome, brief mention of vomiting, Nobunaga is featured a bit in this but don't worry he doesn't want you, fem reader, MDNI

This is dedicated to @ramwrites, who is amazing and wonderful and offered to write me a welcome back gift, and I couldn't not give something back in return! Thanks for letting me write this for you; your writing is so good and makes me all giggly and inspired. For those interested, please check out her Shalnark piece - I haven't read it yet, but I'm sure it's just as good as everything else Ram produces.

WC: 10K

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy! 

“So you went and got yourself kidnapped, huh?” Uvogin asks, cocking a brow at you.

               You, who’s tied to a metal chair, gagged and blindfolded, very clearly having no fucking clue what is going on.

               You squirm, sitting up straight at the sound of a new, unfamiliar voice. Your cute little sleeping shorts had ridden up a bit, exposing more of your thigh than you were probably comfortable with, and Uvo notices with a distant sense of enjoyment that the thin nightshirt you’re sporting is doing very little to hide the way the cold air is affecting your chest.

               You’re weak, really; a pathetic little thing that has him scoffing and crossing his arms.

               “Listen up, I’m only gonna tell you this once. A friend of yours – Stacy, was it? Anyway, this friend of yours got herself noticed by the wrong type of guy.” He starts, plopping down and sitting in his own identical metal chair, just without the restraints.

               You stop struggling when he mentions her name, and he takes this as a sign to continue.

               “See, Nobuanga’s not a bad guy. He’s a little rough around the edges, sure, but any guy who isn’t is hardly worth knowing.” He chuckles at his own assessment of his closest friend, though you don’t seem to share the sentiment. “Stacy works at that shitty little restaurant he loves – the one with the sticky, greasy booths and the fries that come drenched with salt and are so limp they literally drip oil.”

               He shivers at the mere memory, the hamburger he’d ordered barely worth eating.

               “Don’t know what she did, exactly, but somehow he’s smitten – she’s got him all fucked up, ranting and raving about how beautiful she is and how she smiles at him all the time and flirts with him on the clock. Real annoying, if you ask me.” He sighs heavily, letting his thumb sit at his chin as he loses himself in the story of his best friend falling in love – with your best friend, no less.

               “And then she quit her job, I’m sure you know. Started working up at that movie theater – more shitty, oily food, just popcorn instead of fries this time.” He laughs again. “Nobunaga went crazy over that, you know, thinking that maybe she wanted to work in a more intimate setting like that so that he could sneak her off into some abandoned theater and get some one-on-one quality time, if you know what I mean.”

               You grimace, at both the implications of his last statement and the mention of Stacy quitting. You know exactly why she’d quit – it was the whole reason you’d been staying at her place, really. She was convinced she had a stalker, that there was this crazy man who used to bother her at the diner and follow her home. It’d scared her, obviously, and she’d requested – with a guilty look and fiddling thumbs – if you’d be willing to spend the next few nights are her place with her, because maybe if there was more than one person home he wouldn’t get gutsy and break in. Of course you’d agreed, believing her fully and not wanting to leave her alone to deal with this crazed freak.

               Although now, you’re starting to regret that decision just a bit.

               “As I’m sure you know, it didn’t change much. Pretty stupid, to be honest – if a stalker’s that dedicated, how the hell is a change of occupation going to change anything? Chick’s pretty dumb, if you ask me.” He shrugs, and although you can’t see it through your blindfold, you’re sure his face is awfully apathetic about the whole situation. “She was ignoring him, refusing to serve him at the theater, reporting him to her manager, even calling the police and getting a description of him circulating. She was going to get a restraining order against him, even – again, like that’d do shit.”

               He snorts, and you bite into the gag harder.

               Sighing, he looks up at the ceiling. “See, that’s the thing about Nobunaga. He might seem a little lazy sometimes, but he’s got a heart of gold when it comes to the ones he cares about. He’d do anything for that woman – steal for her, kill for her, anything at all. He’s a sap, totally obsessed with the chick, but it’s kind of sweet in a way, I guess. Means he really cares about her. Isn’t that funny? Her stalker really is in love with her.”

               You don’t find it particularly funny, but you can’t say much.

               “Anyways, the police finally got a sighting of him last night. Went through the system pretty fast – I’m a little impressed, to be honest. Normally takes those bastards much longer to process things. Regardless, a few too many sirens were going last night, even a few cars parked outside the apartment he’s been squatting in, yelling his name in those big, gaudy megaphones of theirs. Caused a real stir, and sent the guy into a panic.”

               He takes a moment to breath, tapping his foot lightly on the ground. “So what does he do? He calls me, in the middle of the night, talking so fast that I can’t even understand the guy. All I’m hearing is Stacy this, Stacy that, police and blah blah blah recognized. I had to force the words out of him before it made any sense, the idiot.” That same laugh rattles in your ears.

               “Eventually I got him to be coherent, and he told me that he had to ‘make his move’, whatever the hell that meant. Said he couldn’t wait anymore, that he had to take Stacy and run – the police were coming, and even though it’s not hard to take out a couple of poorly trained guys, it’s still a pain in the ass and Shizuku’s not here to clean up his mess.

               “Anyways, he starts begging me – literally, actually pleading with me, imagine that – to come and help him out. He told me there’s this other chick at her place – some girl she’s been keeping around for some unknown reason, and he needs someone to take care of the body.” Your blood goes cold, fear suddenly creeping back up your throat.

               Was he going to kill you? Why was he bothering to tell you all this if he was just planning on slicing open your neck? Did he find some sick pleasure in prolonging your death?

               He notices your discomfort, it seems, because soon he’s rolling his eyes, scoffing at you. “Calm down. You’re such a bad actor – can’t even see your face, really, and I know you’re scared shitless now. I’m not going to kill you, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

               You calm slightly, but not much.

               “As I was saying, there’s this girl he needs me to take care of – a quick death, nothing too flashy, which makes me immediately ask why the hell he’d request me of all people, when every time I kill it’s messy. It’s kind of my trademark, you know?”

               You didn’t, and you hoped it’d stay that way.

               He sighs again. “Anyways, I head on over to Stacy’s apartment, meeting Nobunaga outside and listening to him run down the plan. He’s going to run inside and knock her out, pulling her out of bed and running off to God knows where he’s got all set up for the two of them. And while he’s busy doing that, I’m supposed to head in and eliminate the friend. Seemed easy enough, if not a bit tedious, so I agree and we head inside, keeping mind of the sirens still in the distance.

               “Everything’s going smoothly, except once we get the front door open, it becomes very clear that Nobunaga was stupid and panicked and didn’t bother to doublecheck if Stacy was actually asleep.” He pauses to sigh dramatically, like it’s some big annoyance. “She’s fully awake, standing about ten feet away from the door, and then she starts fucking screaming.”

               You remember that bit – the screaming, that is, because it had woken you up from your slumber on Stacy’s couch. Everything is still blurry after that, disorientation fogging your brain from being so abruptly woken up.

               “She’s yelling and screeching, and if Nobunaga hadn’t been there I probably would’ve killed her myself just to get her to shut the fuck up. She’s got one of those high, shrill, shrieky voices, you know? The kind that really drive me up the wall - it’s damn annoying.” He pauses, looking at you skeptically. “Hope you haven’t got one of those, things’ll get messy real quick if you do.”

               You hope you don’t, either.

               “He rushes forward and tries to grab her, but she swats at him and, get this, manages to punch him in the dick.” He laughs aloud at that, slapping his knee and throwing his head back. “This weak-ass girl manages to get him on the ground flat, stupid ass’s hands clutching at his dick, and what does she do in the meantime? She runs over to the couch, grabbing this girl and staring back at me like I’m some monster.”

               You make a noise through the gag, but Uvogin ignores it.

               “I’ve gotta hand it to Stacy, though, she’s got guts. She starts yellin’ at us about how she won’t let us kill the girl, how she’ll kill herself before she lets us get our hands on her, and immediately Nobunaga crumbles. I don’t know why the idiot didn’t think of the possibility earlier, but he totally freezes up when she threatens that, just gaping like a fish. It was pretty awkward for me, to be honest, because watching him get so thoroughly rejected was giving me serious second hand embarrassment. I mean, the chick literally said she’d rather kill herself than let Nobuanga take her – pretty harsh if you ask me.”

               He looks back at your covered face, letting his gaze linger on the edges of the blindfold. “So he panics and gives into her demand, telling her he won’t kill her friend – says that he’ll just take her too, so that way everyone’s happy.”

               He frowns a bit at you, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, everyone except you, probably. And except Stacy, too, probably. And except me. So really, Nobunaga’s the only happy one.”

               Your face would sour if it was able to.

               “Anyways, it wasn’t hard to knock them both out and bring ‘em to their respective holding places. I’ve got no clue where the hell Nobunaga’s keeping his chick, but I’m sure you’ve figured out that you’re Stacy’s little friend.”

               You nod, slowly, the movement limited by your restraints. Your wrists have gone numb and your ankles feel bruised and sore, the ropes keeping them pinned the legs of the chair making blood flow difficult.

               “So, what to do with you now.” His voice is wistful, like he’s actually contemplating, and that same familiar fear washes over you again.

               He groans, the chair skidding out behind him as he stands to his full height. “Would you quit it with the fear? I already told you I’m not killing you, are you even listening to me?”

               You nod again, faster this time.

               Uvogin sighs, shuffling forward towards you. You can hear him approaching, and although your shoulders stiffen up, you try not to look as terrified as you feel. It doesn’t seem to work all that well, but he spares you another comment about it.

               Soon the blindfold is ripped off your head, leaving your hair messy and out of place, your eyes squinting and blinking rapidly to adjust to the rather bright white light hanging over you and what you can now see is an absolute behemoth of a man.

               He’s fucking huge – towering over you in every sense of the word, muscles practically bulging out of his body with how defined and massive they are. Black hairs cover every inch of his body you can see, even his arms and especially the bits of chest peeking out of his white top. Ragged, unruly hair sweeps down to his shoulders, making the muscles of his neck look even firmer, and you gulp. Any chance of escaping has basically left you now – there’s no way in hell you could ever beat that, especially if he’d already managed to kidnap you once.

               He clears his throat and your gaze is brought up to his face, a small, strange wave of embarrassment flooding through you as you realize you’ve been caught staring. He’s smirking, though, and you take in the sharp line of his jaw, the thick, dark eyebrows that frame equally dark eyes. He’s attractive, in a strange, rugged sort of way, and you immediately feel sick at the thought.

               “You like what you’re seein’?” He teases, and you immediately look away, still unable to reply with the gag covering your mouth.

               He laughs, and sets his hands on his lips. “Well, looks like you’re stuck with me. Before you freak out, I can’t kill you because that damn Stacy really seems to care about you, and she’s told Nobunaga she’ll kill herself if she doesn’t get regular proof that you’re still alive.”

               A flame of hope ignites in your chest, and internally you thank Stacy, even if this whole situation is less than ideal.

               He seems to sense your sudden upturn in mood, chuckling with a condescending lilt. “Oh no, princess, that doesn’t mean I’m letting you go. No, you’ve gotta stay put, because now that you know what I look like, you’ll go to the cops and report me as fast as those little legs of yours can manage.”

               You shake your head at that, eyes glistening with tears as he shuts down your last hope of escaping. Please, you internally beg him, hoping he’ll somehow be able to sense this too. I won’t, I promise!

               His gaze narrows at you, before that same smirk is back. “I’m sure if you could talk you’d be telling me how you’ll never tell a soul, but you and I both know that’s bullshit. So I’ll save us both some time and keep you here, so that I don’t have to track you down again and lock you back up once you’ve just gotten free.”

               You visibly deflate, and if Uvogin had been a kinder man, he would’ve almost felt bad for you. But instead, he just hums, crouching down in front of you. Even squatting he’s still taller than you, and it does nothing to make you feel less scared.

               “Now listen up, here are the rules. I’m a pretty nice guy, all things considered, so don’t break my rules and I won’t break your bones.”

               Your eyes get wide, but you nod along. He smiles, patting your knee.

               “That’s good, see? You’re already doing better than that Stacy girl, at least you’re not fighting me every step of the way.” Something about his statement makes guilt eat away at your chest – are you supposed to be fighting more? There doesn’t really seem to be a point – this man is massive, and you’re all bound and unable to move. You’re doing the best you can, right?

               “First,” He holds up a finger, “don’t even bother trying to escape. I’m bigger than you, faster than you, stronger than you, and smarter than you. There’s nothing you can try that I won’t see through, and you’ll end up regretting it more than you can imagine.

               “Second, no trying to hurt yourself. Nobunaga will kill me if I let you die, and it’d be a pain to deal with him.” He fixes you a stern look, and you nod.

               “Third, don’t go digging through my shit. I’m doing my buddy a favor by keeping you here, and if I find you snooping around… He didn’t say anything about roughing you up a bit, and it might be good for Stacy to see you with some bruises or a cast or two.” His threat doesn’t go unheard, and you nod again, throat bobbing as you swallow.

               He stares at you for a moment more, gaze calculating and judging whether you’ve really accepted his conditions, before strong fingers come up to untie the knot keeping your gag in place.

               “Don’t you scream, I’ll have to shut you up if you do.” He warns, before pulling the fabric away. Immediately you’re flexing your jaw, the muscle aching as you move it, and he watches with a neutral expression. You’re still tied up, unable to move really, and Uvogin gets a fleeting thought of how pitiful you look.

               “Um,” You start, your voice a bit hoarse from being so dry and unused for the last few hours. “What’s your name?”

               He blinks, before laughing a bit. “Of all the questions you could’ve asked, all the things you could’ve said and done as soon as you woke up from learning you’ve been kidnapped, and that’s what you chose? Shit, you wouldn’t survive in the wild, would you?”

               Shame creeps up your neck at his belittlement, but before you can defend yourself he’s answering. “It’s Uvogin.”

               You nod, not willing to look at him. It’s silent for a few moments, before he sighs again and reaches forward to untie the rope shackling your ankles and wrists. As soon as you’re free, you try to stretch out your limbs, keeping a weary eye on the man – Uvogin.

               What a stupid name.

               “Well, the fact that you’re not screaming your head off is a promising sign. Get up, I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.” He orders, already taking off towards the door in the corner of the small room. You try to follow him, but your legs aren’t moving right, and it takes you a while to make your way over there. He looks irritated at your lack of speed, but says nothing, only holding open the door until you make your way through.

               You’re led down into a rather sparse apartment, only furnished with a single gray couch against one wall (with a few stains on it that make you wince a bit), a TV and some cabinets, a wooden table and two chairs, and a beat-up fridge in the adjoining kitchen. Everything’s clean, but the space lacks any sort of personality, and it makes you uncomfortable.

               “That’s your bed, extra blankets are in the closet. If you need anything tell me, and I might snag it for you next time I’m out on a job.” Something about the way he says ‘snag’ makes you nervous, so you just mutter a small affirmation.

               He gives you one last glance over, his eyes once again lingering on your chest, before stepping through the doorway.

               “Wait, Uvogin!” Your voice, a bit wobbly and unsure, makes him turn back, his brow cocked and curiosity dancing on his features. (And a bit of surprise, too, because he hadn’t expected you to say anything to him, or even use his name. Maybe you weren’t as skittish and weak as you seemed – though, he doubted that.)

               “Um, is it possible for me to see Stacy soon?” You asked, voice growing smaller with every word. He blinks, before standing up a bit straighter.

               “Actually, you’re in luck. Nobunaga called me about an hour ago and let me know we’re meeting up in a few days – he said it would be good for Stacy to have a ‘playdate’ with you. Whatever the fuck that means.” Uvogin shrugs, looking entirely uninterested, and you bristle at Nobunaga’s choice of words. Poor Stacy.

               Excitement brews in your chest; at least you’ll have a familiar face, and hopefully the stranger hasn’t done anything too terrible to your friend. Nodding, you glance back to the floor, wishing the hulking man staring at you would just leave. He does, a few moments later, and only then do you allow yourself to slump onto the bed he’s assigned you. The bedroom is bare like the rest of the home, with a twin bed set in the corner and a small set of drawers sitting nearby. It makes you laugh humorlessly – were you supposed to fill that chest? With what? You hadn’t brought anything with you, and you seriously doubted Uvogin would let you return home to grab some of your clothes.

               Sighing, you sat onto the bed, the mattress firm under you. Distantly, some part of you was pleased – at least the bed would be comfortable enough.

               Time passes slowly as you sit on the bed – not your bed, not yet. You stare at the wall ahead of you, the fear slowly seeping out of your system until only exhaustion remains. Sleep eventually takes over, and although you try to fight it, you’re slipping into a dreamless slumber before long.

               Uvogin’s tolerable, you’ve found. He’s certainly not nice, nor is he an especially great person to be around, but he could be much worse, you suppose. He’s fed you twice daily for however long you’ve been stuck here (it feels like a week, so you’re assuming it is, if only to stave off any self-doubt that’s creeping into the corners of your mind), and the food’s not terrible. It’s clearly takeout, the packaging sometimes even having Chinese characters on it or restaurant logos, and you’ve been mostly satisfied with his choices so far. He’ll sometimes ask you what you want, and while you were too scared to answer the first few times (which only makes him scowl and roll his eyes, muttering a small damn, Nobunaga owes me one), eventually you’d felt safe enough to be honest.

               He hasn’t hurt you, either. At least, not yet. You’re aware he could, if he wanted to – those muscles make it hard to forget, and you’d seen him crush his phone in his hand like a bug when a phone call with someone named Franklinwent poorly.

               He’s scary, still, but you’ve reached the point now where you aren’t practically hyperventilating every time he enters the room. You still keep him in your field of vision, weary for any sudden changes in his behavior, but every day that passes has you growing more complacent with your position. The constant threat of Stacy potentially facing consequences for your actions doesn’t deter you from being on your best behavior, either.

               Besides, sometimes he’s even a little bit funny – not that you’d ever laugh at his jokes, but he has this weird sense of humor that you think you’d like, if the situation had been different. If you’d met him on the street you definitely would’ve tried to cross to the other side, but you would’ve found him oddly charming, his snide remarks and cocky air a bit entertaining.

               You try not to think about that, though, because the mere presence of these thoughts means the Stockholm Syndrome is starting to kick in. And while you aren’t the most resilient person on the planet, even you have to admit it’s a bit early for that.

               Sighing, you take another bite of the curry he’d brought you, pleasantly surprised that the spice level was perfect. Uvogin didn’t have many rules, it was true, but he did have a few unspoken ones – one of which being that meals, particularly take-out meals, were to be eaten at the small, rickety table. Together, which wasn’t ideal.

               “I’ve gotta make sure you don’t try to starve yourself or choke.” He’d told you the first time, grabbing your shoulders and forcing you into the seat across from his, the noodles sitting in front of you still packaged neatly in their container. At first you’d been nervous he would try to poison you, but eventually hunger got the best of you and you were slurping the noodles down, still keeping a nervous eye on the hulking man in front of you.

               “So, big news.” He starts, taking a bite out of his chicken. He always took big bites, you’d noticed, but he ordered enough food that even if his pace was twice as fast as yours, he never finished before you.

               You glance up at him, trying not to let toomuch curiosity show on your face, but he seems to realize anyway.

               “I know you haven’t been up to much, but don’t make your excitement so obvious. Hurts my feelings to know you think I’m so boring.” He’s joking, you think, and to sate him you attempt to smile.

               “Nobunaga called me again this morning; today’s the day.”

               You practically choke on your food, eyes blowing wide and your hands beginning to shake. Finally, finally you’d be able to see Stacy – you’d been worried sick about her the last week or so, terrified that her transition to the life of being a captive hadn’t gone as smoothly as your own. (You snorted bitterly at that – smooth probably wasn’t the best word for how you’d been feeling, but at least you hadn’t been hit yet, or assaulted or any number of things. Hopefully Nobunaga wasn’t any worse of a person than your own captor.)

               Uvogin is watching you, you realize, with a strange look in his eye. As soon as you glance up at him you look away again, clearing your throat and trying to keep your voice even as you ask, “That’s good, it’ll be nice to see her again.”

               It’s silent for a moment, before his booming laugh makes you wince a bit. “Yeah, I’m sure you are. Finish up, I don’t like wasting food. Once you’re done we’ll head out - try to not to choke.”

               He says that right as you start shoveling the food into your mouth, hoping that eating quicker will mean you can see Stacy quicker. He chuckles at you, but you follow his orders and slow down a bit. He throws you one more glance, that cocky smile on his lips, before digging into his own food again.

               He’s eating a bit faster than normal, too, you notice.

               He apologizes with an insincere tone as he ties the blindfold back on you (he’d told you that you can’t know where you are just in case you decide to get rebellious and run away), and soon you’re stuffed into a car. Everything’s hard to keep track of when you can’t see, but Uvogin’s talking (like normal), so you try to tune into the sound of his voice to help the time pass.

               “Now listen, you might not wanna touch her too much, Nobunaga’s a bit…” He trails off, and you can hear his hand tightening on the steering wheel. “Possessive. You’re her friend and all, and I’m sure he won’t hurt you, especially not in front of her, but be careful.”

               You nod, absentmindedly.

               “Also, don’t be too surprised if she doesn’t look the way she used to. He was always going on about how she was dressed too inappropriately in her day-to-day life, so she might be a little underdressed.”

               He’d hesitated to say underdressed, and you tried not to think about what that could mean.

               It’s quiet for a few moments, and you shift in the car seat. He’d let you sit in the front, an unexpected luxury, but you didn’t like that he could see you while you couldn’t see him. He wouldn’t hurt you, you were mostly confident of that now, but who knew what he had planned.

               “We’re almost there. If things go badly, I’ll get you out of there. You’re pretty damn weak, a broken bone would probably take a few weeks for you to heal. I don’t want to deal with you being injured, and I’m sure you don’t, either.”

               Your lips must’ve given away your fear, because a moment later he’s sighing. “Did you know that you practically reek your emotions? I feel like I can smell ‘em, even when I can’t even see half your damn face.”

               You don’t have anything to say to that, but you force yourself to speak anyway, not wanting to dignify his last comment. “Do you think – well, do you think Nobunaga will want to hurt me?”

               Uvogin ponders your question for a moment, surprised that you’d spoken up. You hadn’t done much talking in the time he’d had you – he was sure it was because you were scared, but it was nice to hear you talking to him like you weren’t scared shitless of him. Even if you had every reason to be so terrified.

               “Honestly, probably. Especially if you touch her.”

               You suck in a breath, and Uvogin hums. “But it’s not going to happen.”

               “What do you mean?”

               You could practically hear his toothy grin.

               “It’s my job to protect you, right? So I will. Even if the one you need protecting from is the same guy who wants you to be protected.”

               Something in his tone gives you the impression he means those words more than he’s letting on, and you shiver as you imagine just who this Nobunaga guy could possibly be.

               “Oh my god, oh my god – you’re alive! Thank god!” Stacy sobs, arms wrapping around you like a vice before you can even respond. You clutch her back just as tightly, burying your face into her brown curls, a few tears pricking at your eyes. You’d been nervous that Nobunaga would’ve hurt her, with the way Uvogin was describing him, but after a thorough look-over, you find no bruises or marks marring her olive skin.

               Eventually she pulls back, but keeps her hands firmly grasping your shoulders. Her eyes are red with tears, and her lower lip is wobbling. She’s not hurt, but she looks bad – there’s heavy bags under eyes and her hair is frazzled, her lips look swollen and she’s clutching onto you hard. Really hard.

               “Stacy, are you hurt?” You ask, letting your hands cup her cheeks. You see Nobunaga – who Uvogin had pointed out with a small that’s the guy when you’d walked in – stiffen up at that, and Uvogin’s warning flashes through your mind. You might not want to touch her. Right.

               Stacy glances over at her captor, and you follow her gaze, only to see Uvogin give you a small nod and drag his friend out the door by the collar of his purple kimono, calling over his shoulder that they’ll be back in exactly five minutes, and that they’ll know if you try to escape.

               As soon as the door closes, Stacy pulls you in for another hug, the words flying out of her mouth so quickly you can barely understand her. “He’s – Nobunaga, he’s horrible. He never leaves me alone, and he treats me like I’m some incompetent little baby, and he’s always touching me and I just – I can’t –“

               You cut her off by pressing her face into your neck again, rubbing the back of her head and letting her cry. You’re crying too, now, but your tears fall silently compared to her sobbing.

               You don’t say much, because what can you say? It would be a lie to tell her that everything’s going to be okay, and every other reassurance that dances on the tip of your tongue just feels wrong, like you’d be pointedly lying to her. Instead, you let her get it out, her grip on you never loosening. You’d known Nobunaga had been the root of all her anxieties the last few months, long before he’d gotten the gall to kidnap her. And while you were happy that she wasn’t hurt, it still pained you to see her like this.

               Eventually she’d calmed down, and you feel her pull back and wipe at her sniffling nose. “I’m so sorry.” She whispers to you, looking like she’s on the verge of crying again. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this mess, I should’ve just gone quietly and left you alone. I shouldn’t have asked you to stay with me for a few weeks, now you’re really stuck with that monster.”

               You don’t tell her that it’s okay, because it’s not. Some part of you is still bitter and resentful towards her for involving you, because she’s right. You could be still living your life if she hadn’t requested you to help deter her stalker from making a move. But despite your anger, you can’t find it in yourself to hate her. Not when she’s like this – not when she’s probably experiencing something even worse than you.

               “It doesn’t matter now, all that matters is that we’re both alive, and we’re both okay. Or, at least, okay as we can be, given the situation.” You tell her, smiling softly. She blinks at you, eyes wide and vulnerable, before nodding and swallowing.

               “Yeah, I was worried that you wouldn’t be, with the way Nobunaga was talking about Uvogin.” Her voice was hoarse still, and you laughed humorlessly at that.

               “Yeah, well, he hasn’t hurt me yet, so I think I’ll be okay. He mostly just ignores me, honestly, so I guess I’m lucky.” Your attempt at optimism doesn’t make Stacy smile like you’d hoped. Rather, her lips pull into a frown and her eyebrows furrow.

               “He ignores you? That doesn’t make sense.”

               You expression mirrors hers. “What? I mean, the only reason I got kidnapped too was insurance so that you wouldn’t kill yourself –“

               Stacy’s face morphs into one of horror, and her grip on your shoulders goes slack.

               Quickly you’re backpedaling, worried the mention of her self-imposed death might’ve triggered something you wanted to avoid. “I’m not saying it’s your fault, I totally understand why you –“

               “Alright, time’s up.” Nobunaga’s voice interrupts, and knuckly hands are suddenly on your shoulders, pushing you aside so that Nobunaga can stand in front of Stacy. You stumble back, falling backwards against Uvogin’s hard chest, immediately standing up straight.

               Nobunaga’s cupping Stacy’s chin, and you can see from this angle the way he smiles, a slight pink color flooding his cheeks. It makes you sick, and the pained look on Stacy’s face only makes your gut sink more. She’s looking at you still, and something about the way her brows are cocked inward that makes you feel like she’s almost pitying you.  

               “Did you miss me, baby?” Nobunaga’s cooing down at her, and it makes your skin crawl. Uvogin sighs from behind you and grabs your wrist, dragging you out of the room. His grip is surprisingly gentle, and as you watch Stacy slowly fade from your view, you can’t help but be slightly grateful that at least your captor isn’t leaning down for a kiss like hers.

               The car ride home is mostly quiet, and it’s not until you’re nearing the end of your time in the vehicle that Uvogin breaks the silence.

               “So, what did you talk about while we were gone? Girly shit?” You think he’s attempting a joke, but you can’t even pretend to laugh at it.

               “She’s not happy.” You comment, voice slightly flat, and Uvogin snorts at your words.

               “Of course she’s not happy, she’s just been kidnapped. And by her stalker, no less – would anyone be happy? Hell, are you happy?” He asks you, and you blanch at his question. Somehow, though, it feels like some sort of trap, so you stay quiet.

               He doesn’t say anything more until he’s pulling you out of the car, your footsteps hesitant and clumsy because he’d put that damn blindfold on you again. He guides you up to the apartment, and soon you’re standing in the living room area, the fabric falling from your eyes.

               “I’ve got some errands to run today, so I’ll be gone for a while. Do you want anything while I’m out?” He asks, standing in front of the door with his arms crossed. You’re a bit touched that he’s offering to get you something, but you try not to focus on it. Of course you’re feeling grateful for him – he may be holding you captive, yes, but at least he hasn’t tried to kiss you or touch you. Poor Stacy didn’t share your luck.

               “Um, maybe some chips? I don’t care what flavor, just something crunchy…” You trail off, looking at him nervously. You’d never requested anything before, and some part of you is convinced he’d only asked you the question to laugh in your face and deny you.

               He cracks a smile and nods, hand already on the doorknob. “Okay. Okay, but you’d better be prepared to share, because I happen to be a big chip fan myself. So don’t get greedy, yeah?”

               You half-smile, rubbing at your arm. “Yeah, I won’t be.”

               He steps out the door, and once again the apartment is silent, his presence gone and all movement within the room gone, too.

               The TV won’t work for you, you know that, but you’re still trying to get it to behave. Uvogin had to type in some password every time he turned it on, and it was too long and encoded for you to ever be able to decipher it. Still, you were clicking the power button of the remote over and over, hoping against hope that it would somehow short circuit and bypass that password screen. When it didn’t, you only sighed, rising to your feet and wandering towards the monitor.

               Uvogin, you’d learned, was surprisingly meticulous – surprisingly organized, really. Meaning there was a chance he’d written down the password to the TV and had it stored somewhere. He’d only been gone for about a half hour, if the clock was any indication, and you had a lot of time to kill before he returned home. Not that he was your only source of entertainment – though, you’d read the single book he owned three times already.

               Your knees crack as you kneel down in front of the cupboard the TV was sitting on, the wooden doors creaking as they open. The shelves are mostly empty – a few older remotes, and a cable channel guide.

               Frustrated, you huff and let your shoulders slump, trying to decide what to do next. The TV obviously wasn’t planning on cooperating, though there was a cupboard right next to the one you’re searching through that could potentially hold the answer.

               Uvogin’s rules distantly float through your mind, his gruff voice replaying in perfect clarity. Third, don’t go digging through my shit. Glancing back up the clock, you bite your lip. You had time, because while he was massive and huge and scary, there was no way he could get all his errands done in just thirty minutes.

               With a deep breath, you move over to the other cabinet, letting your fingers curl around the knob. The doors don’t creak when they open, and immediately you’re scanning the shelves. These ones are full – with boxes, each labeled with a date on them. Cocking a brow, you examine the dates. January 4th – January 25th, April 29th – May 7th, and so on.

               Intrigued, you slowly slide out one of the boxes, noticing not a single bit of dust is sitting on the cover. He must use this cabinet much more often than the one you’d been searching through previously, as a thick layer of dust had sprung up in your face the moment you opened the cabinet door.

               The box itself is light, but you still set it down in front of you, your fingers delicate and careful, too worried that you’ll break something if you press too hard. And then Uvogin would know, surely, especially if he truly used this cabinet that often.

               Slowly, you take off the box’s cover, and immediately your brows are scrunching together. What the hell?

               When you’d imagined the kind of ‘shit’ Uvogin didn’t want you to snoop through, you hadn’t pegged it to be this. Whatever this was, that is.

               It looked like a box full of receipts – tons of pieces of paper, all in weird sizes or shapes that looked like they were ripped out of some sort of notebook. The handwriting is messy, the letters all crammed together and difficult to decipher. You pick the paper on top up, turning it this way and that, trying to read the text.

               Her: Sorry, I know it’s late, but I need to ask you a quick question.

               Them: Yeah? What’s up?

               Her: Do you think he’s alright? Chris, I mean – he hasn’t called me back for a few days, and I’m worried about him.

               Them: You know Chris, it always takes him a while to respond. I wouldn’t worry, he’s just unpredictable.

               Her: Yeah, I guess…

               [6 second pause]

               Them: Go to sleep, it’s late. You’ve got work in the morning, right?

               Her: Yeah, I do. Okay, okay, I’m getting into bed now. Goodnight.

               Them: Goodnight, call me when you hear back from him.

               Her: Okay.

               What was this? The ambiguity of it all confused you – who was her? Them? Chris?

               You furrowed your brows, confusion sitting in your gut alongside a strange feeling. The hairs at the back of your neck prickled up, and a small pang of unease bolted through you.

               Setting the piece of paper back into the bin, you picked up another one. This one was shorter, more to the point.

               Her: Are we still on for Friday night?

               Them: Yeah! Freddy’s, nine o’clock sharp. I’m buying, remember.

               Her: You always say that, and you always get too shit faced to pay. Liar!

               Them: Hey, I just know how to have fun! You could learn how to do that, you know.

               Her: Yeah yeah, okay, I’ll see you later.

               Your fingers are shaking as you finish reading the small, triangular slip of paper. Your lips are slightly parted, brows still crunched together. Something about the interaction between Her and Them felt oddly familiar – like something you’d heard before.

               And the mention of Freddy’s. That’d been the name of a bar you frequented often with your friends, back before everything had gone to shit with Stacy.

               Unnerved, you set the piece of paper back in the box and slide the box into its place on the shelf, running your eyes back over the listed date. August 28th – September 16th. One of your best friend’s birthdays was in that range.

               Wiping your palms on your thighs, you try to calm the pounding of your heart. Something feels off, wrong in a way you can’t quite place. Surely, Freddy’s is a common enough name; it doesn’t necessarily mean your favorite bar. Plus, even if it does mean that particular bar, who knew who these people were. You surely don’t - who the hell is Chris?

               Wanting to put some distance between you and the cabinet, you get to your feet again and close it, wandering away into the little hallway connecting the living space, bathroom and two bedrooms. Cupping some water in your hands from the bathroom sink, you splash your face, letting the cold wash over your skin. Closing your eyes, you try to calm down. It doesn’t mean anything – how could it? You’re probably just all shaken up after seeing Stacy and her freaky captor. Nobunaga disturbed you, you can’t deny it.

               Sighing, you open your eyes, wiping your face with your towel. (Uvogin had been kind enough to give you one designated as your own, saving you from the horrible fate of having you dry your body with a towel that he’d already used.) Though you notice with a small start that the towel is wet, despite you not having showered recently. Odd.

               As you turn to leave the room, you notice a shirt sitting piled up in the corner. It was black, and surely not your own – holding it up, it looked big enough to dwarf you. Must be Uvogin’s, then.

               His bedroom is across from your own, and while you haven’t been inside it yet, it feels wrong to just leave his shirt on the floor, where it could get dirty and maybe even moldy. Besides, doing a little cleaning would keep you occupied – both from boredom, and from contemplating those weird slips of paper further.

               You slowly open the door, immediately getting hit with a wave of musk. Uvogin normally smelled decent, but the scent in here is strong enough to make you wince a bit, the overwhelming stench of sweat, mint, and male making you a bit nauseous. To your surprise, the room is spotless – a very, very large bed sits floated in the middle, a navy and black flannel comforter covering the top while a few large, puffy pillows sit at attention at the head. A few pairs of boots are lined up in the corner, and a single picture looks to be taped up on the wall above them. Curiously, you step forward, moving towards the photo.

               Uvogin had told you very little about himself – only that he worked as a contractor, of sorts, and that he didn’t have too many friends, so you wouldn’t have to worry about visitors. But now that you’re looking at the photo, you’re wondering if maybe that last statement hadn’t been so true – the photo is of a dozen or so people, all posing for the camera with various degrees of a smile on their face. Uvogin’s in the back, on the left side, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of a shorter blond man, his blue eyes in a wink and holding up his thumb. Uvogin’s smiling, and as you scan the photo, you stop when you hit Nobunaga, who’s seated in the front row next to a woman with big glasses and a modified cross necklace. Everyone looks happy, and briefly you wonder whether Uvogin considers these people friends. He must, if Nobunaga’s present – an odd sort of satisfaction worms its way into your chest at the thought. You don’t like Uvogin, surely not – but still, everyone needs friends, right? Even kidnappers.

               God, you really are starting to develop Stockholm Syndrome.

               Shaking your head to try and clear the thoughts, you approach his closet and snag a hanger, trying to hang up the shirt you’re holding in your arms. The thing is tall, and as you try to get the hanger’s hook to wrap over the metal bar, your eyes fall to the side, noticing something out of the corner of your vision.

               It’s a soft pink, and you cock a brow. Uvogin? Owning something pink?

               Eventually, and with a soft grunt, you get the hanger to successfully sit onto the bar, and immediately you’re investigating the pink thing. This goes directly against his rules, you know – you’re quite literally snooping, but hopefully he’d still be out for longer. Besides, even if he comes back, you could just tell him you’re putting away his shirt, and maybe he wouldn’t call you on your half-lie.

               Whatever the thing is, it’s wedged pretty far back in the closet – you’d only managed to catch a brief glimpse of it, and for good reason. There’s a storage container in the back of the closet, an organizer of sorts with some compartments that all seem to be stuffed full. It’s hard to see, the overhead light dim to begin with and not penetrating too deeply into the dark closet, but you’re able to fish out the pink fabric soon enough.

               It's lace, you realize, your curiosity only doubling. That same pin-prickly feeling is back, and as you slowly flatten out the cloth, your breath catches.

               It’s a thong. Pink and lacy, with a bow decorating the back, right over the tailbone.

               But more than that, the thong looks familiar. There’s a thread pulled on the front right side, and a stain on the fabric at the very bottom, looking awfully similar to the color your own discharge makes once it’s been washed.

               Your fingers are shaking again, and you stumble back a bit, the back of your knees catching onto the bed so that you fall back and land on your ass, too busy staring at the cloth in your hands to bother trying to situate yourself.

               These panties are yours.

               You’re sure of it – you know because Stacy bought them for you a few months ago. She’d cheekily handed them to you with a big, gaudy bow on top, a wink sent your way and a demure because I know you’ve got a date tonight, and I also know you haven’t gotten laid in way too long. That was the night you’d been set up on a blind date with a friend’s coworker. He’d been nice, though you hadn’t slept with him, and you hadn’t gone out again after that. He didn’t seem all that interested in you as a romantic pursuit, but he was funny, and you’d hoped you could become friends, at least.

               And his name was Chris. And he’d gone missing a few days after.

               You drop the panties, a hand coming up to cover your mouth.

               You don’t want to, and you know you shouldn’t, but before you can stop yourself you’re rushing forward to the closet, digging back to that storage compartment and rooting around for anything else you can find. It must be a coincidence; it has to be a coincidence. These can’t be your panties, you must be mistaken – why would Uvogin have these? How could he have these? You’d lost them in the laundry a while back.

               At least, that’s what you’d assumed.

               Pulling your hand back, you see you’ve grabbed a few items. They’re smaller, not clothing, but nonetheless incriminating. There’s a chapstick container, with a strange flavor on it that you’ve only seen once, back when you won it in some weird fundraising fair you’d been at for your job. Kiwi banana grape, it said in curling black lettering, and when you pop open the top, you notice it’s almost completely empty.

               There’s also a button; it’s black with a strange shape, one you recognize as being from your favorite jacket. It’d fallen off one day, but you’d been too busy walking around the city to have realized. It was a real bummer, because it’d rendered the jacket unwearable because too big a draft would sneak through it.

               And lastly, there’s a bandaid – it’s old, you can tell, with a kiddy pattern of some fairies and a dinosaur on it that the nurse had apologized for having to use, telling you it was all they had available at the time. You remembered it – it’d made you laugh that you’d gotten your flu shot and she’d patched it up with a bandaid designed for six year olds, even going so far as to snap a photo and send it in the group chat you kept with your friends.

               You feel sick.

               Throwing the small items back into the compartment, you rush to the bathroom, barely making it before you’re heaving, all the curry you’d forced down your throat earlier coming right back up.

               What the fuck?

               Who was Uvogin? Why did he have all of this? How did he have all of this? What did it mean? Your head’s rushing, too many thoughts and implications swimming through your oversaturated mind, and you have just barely enough strength to flush the toilet and stand up, staring at yourself in the mirror.

               Stacy’s words rush back to you as you examine your face, seeing your wide eyes and the way your chest is rising and falling with each harsh breath slipping through your lips. He ignores you? That doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense – none of it at all. Why would your by-association captor have any of your personal items? Especially personal items you’d lost or thrown away literal months ago, long before you’d ever started staying over at Stacy’s?

               You know why, you just don’t want to admit it, and as you stare at yourself in the mirror, you try to come up with any other possible explanation. No. It can’t be. Stacy’s the one with the creepy stalker, not me.

               Suddenly, the sound of the front door’s lock clicking open makes you snap up, adrenaline suddenly coursing through your veins. Uvogin’s home.

               Immediately you’re running to your bed, jumping under the covers and shutting your eyes tightly, praying that Uvogin will think you’re asleep and won’t bother you. You need more time to figure this out – it’s all too much, and while it probably won’t be any easier the longer you wait, you need something.

               You can’t look at him yet. You won’t.

               “I got your chips! Didn’t know which flavor to choose, so I got three I think you might like. I’m serious, though, you have to share. I’m an animal, and I will steal your food.” He laughs at that, and you hear him set down the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. Your eyes are still closed so tightly that it hurts, and you ball your fists up in the blankets as hard as you can. You’d curled up into a fetal position, and you force yourself to stay still as you hear his loud footsteps coming down the hall.

               He calls your name, peeking his head into every room he passes. Soon he sees you in your bed, and although you look a little stiff, his shoulders immediately lose their tension. A smile flits across his lips, and he slowly, quietly shuts the door, retreating back to his own room.

               You sigh, peeling open your eyes and trying to get your breathing under control. You’d been holding your breath, and now that he’s actually home in the apartment, it’s difficult to not let yourself panic.

               It becomes much, much more difficult when you hear a noise come from his bedroom, though. What the hell’s this?

               There’s a muffled curse, and your blood runs cold as quick, heavy footsteps lead right up to your door. He swings it open and your eyes fly shut, trying desperately in vain to appear like you’re still sleeping.

               “Wake the fuck up.” He says, and immediately you open your eyes, your fear too strong to ignore. He’s holding the pink panties in his hands, and you realize with a small burst of terror that in your haste to get to the bathroom, you’d left them on the floor. In his room. Right where he can see that they’ve been moved.

               Fuck fuck fuck.

               "I only have three rules. What are they?” He barks, and you’re trying to curl up even smaller, hoping his promise of not hurting you will still ring true. Though, he’s lied about pretty much everything else – how do you know if that part wasn’t all a lie, too?

               “No hurting myself, no escaping, and no – no snooping.” You whisper, and Uvogin bares his teeth.

               “I’ve been good to you – patient, something that takes a hell of a lot of effort for me. And what do you do in return? You go and do one of the very few things I’ve forbidden.” He looks impossibly tall right now, towering over you with those muscles, the panties looking downright tiny between his monstrous fingers. “Tell me why. Explain to me why the hell you were snooping through my closet.”

               You shut your eyes again, too scared to look at him. “I was putting away a shirt you left in the bathroom. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did it, please don’t hurt me, please –“

               He interrupts you with a huff, and you tense up, waiting for some blow to land. It doesn’t, though, and after a good thirty seconds, you finally peel an eye open, almost too scared to see what he’s doing.

               You don’t expect the small smile that’s sitting on his lips, nor the hand on his hip. He locks his eyes with yours, then sighs. “Well, this is most definitely not the way I wanted you to find out. See, I had this whole plan – Nobunaga came up with it, one of the very few things he’s ever thought of that actually impressed me.”

               You’re confused again, but that sick feeling still hasn’t gone away. All you can seem to look at are your panties, wedged in his fist.

               “He told me that since you and Stacy were so close, we could cut a deal – kidnap you both at once, get more bang for our buck. There was no way to hide Nobunaga’s feelings for Stacy, sure, but you? Well, you haven’t noticed anyone following you, have you?” Uvogin asks, cocking his head at you and letting his smile get a bit wider.

               You quickly shake your head no.

               “I’m better at this stuff than he is. He always gets too excited to talk to her, wants to interact and have her lookin’ at him. I get it, I really do. Even now, even with you scared shitless and looking at me like I’m about to kill you, just you acknowledging me is getting me hard as a fucking rock.”

               Involuntarily, your eyes dart down to his navel, and with a small, strangled sound of fear, you notice the way there’s a prominent bulge forming in those shorts of his.

               He laughs at your change in focus, and steps forward. Hooking a finger under your chin, he smirks down at you. “I’m better at hiding myself, and I was willing to play the long game, content with watching you until the right time came to snatch you up. But when Nobunaga offered, telling me there was a way to get you all to myself and make sure you grew to want me organically? Well, I couldn’t resist, could I?”

               You want to tell him he absolutely could’ve, or that you wouldn’t have ‘wanted him organically’, whatever the hell that meant, but your tongue doesn’t seem to be working.

               He leans down, face coming closer and closer to yours. “You had no idea, did you? How do you think I knew what kind of mattress to get you? How do you think I knew exactly what to order for you for takeout, even when you were too scared to tell me? How do you think I know what shampoo and conditioner to buy you, or even what kind of fucking cologne you like? Believe me, I’m only wearing this shit for you.”

               You’re frozen, unable to move, unable to do anything but stare at him.

               “Do you get it now, princess? See, Nobunaga doesn’t give two shits about whether you live or die – he’ll get Stacy to do what he wants no matter what. But me? I give a shit.” He’s so close to you that you can smell his breath. It’s minty, like he’s just recently brushed his teeth. The cold smell only makes you shiver, fear still tingling up your spine.

               “Why?” You whisper, overwhelmed at his sudden confession.

               He pauses at that, smirk falling away as he genuinely considers your words. He’s quiet for a moment, before he smiles again, but this time it’s not as predatory – there’s something oddly soft about it, and it makes you feel worse.

               “Because you’re perfect. That’s all.” He answers like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and before you can say anything he’s clambering on the bed next to you. You want to fight him off, to jump up off the bed and run, but you can’t seem to find the energy to. Besides, you’re not delusional enough to think you could beat Uvogin in any sort of physical altercation or chase. And while he still seemed to be adhering to his promise of not hurting you, you didn’t feel like testing the waters.

               “So I guess the jig’s up. I was hoping you wouldn’t find out, but I can work with this, too. At least now I don’t have to act like I don’t know you. And now, I don’t have to do all that respectful distance shit – you’re mine now, babe, and now I don’t have to hide it.” He’s grinning again, his teeth looking too sharp, and before you can blink he’s above you, your wrists pinned above your head and his lips inches away from yours.

               “So why don’t I show you just how much your attention the last week’s been affecting me?” His voice is low, sultry, and makes you gulp. He presses his face into your neck, deeply inhaling and groaning. “I promise I can make you feel good… I’ll tell you my last rule, okay?”

               You’re frozen, but when he pulls back to glare at you, you shakily mutter out an ‘okay’.

               His grin is wolfish, predatory, scary. “Rule number four is no running away from me, even if that cute little body of yours can’t take anymore. Got it?”

               You nod.

[miraelfe]

Outbreak

didn’t mean to post a fic this big but i didn’t want to cut another fic in half again so here’s a massive Phinks fic

Warnings: death, graphic depictions of violence, gore, blood, suicide, torture, threats of violence, reader goes through traumatizing shit, Phinks is callous at points but never goes yandere

Word count: 14.8k

If you’d been outside at the start, when everything went to shit and chaos erupted in the city, you probably wouldn’t have made it for as long as you did. Actually, you’d have probably been one of the first ones to go. You didn’t always have the greatest reaction times, and the shock of it all probably would’ve caused you to stand around like an idiot and make you an easy target.

It just so happened that you’d been inside when the sirens started blaring and the screaming in the streets echoed against the buildings and made their way to the windows of your apartment.

You’d been confused as you watched people running in the streets below, watching as they pulled loved ones behind them as they ran, as more people who had been sitting in their cars in the completely stopped traffic opted to exit and take their chances out in the open, and as many others were willing to push those who were weaker than them to the side, even throwing them to the ground in some cases in some attempt to make sure what was coming would get those who had fallen first.

Beyond your front door and inside the halls of your apartment building, you could hear people panicking as they noticed the growing chaos outside and came together to try and figure out what was happening.

Although you could hear your neighbors, you stayed by the window, unable to do anything but watch as you heard the screams from below becoming more distressed.

And then you witnessed what everyone was running from.

Keep reading

[miraelfe]

Miss potatinha pls can I have Touya-nii getting cucked by his incel friend Shigaraki who he teased would neva have a gf, and is now fucking touyas sister? 🙏🙏

Here you go light of my life~ I hope it’s everything you wanted, it was definitely really fun to write. 

Warnings: slightly implied incest, Touya-nii being a meanie

“Touya-nii,” you softly tug at his sleeve, wince when he swats your hand away and tells you to wait, “but Touya-nii I have to go,” you whine. He glares at you.

“Wait until Keigo gets back,” he pulls you to sit on the armrest beside him, “I don’t want you two alone together.” You don’t ask why, you’ve seen the way his friends look at you. They said they wanted to be your friends, too, but Touya keeps you tethered to his side constantly, especially when Keigo is around. It’s like he doesn’t want you to talk to anyone that isn’t him.

It wouldn’t be so bad if your brother wasn’t so mean. He tells you you’re stupid, gives you spankings if you do something he doesn’t like, pinches your thighs, flicks at your chest, and gives you hickeys you can’t hide just because he can and likes to make you uncomfortable. Makes you “play wrestle” so he can grind his crotch into your body while you squirm and try to get away, just how he likes. He makes you cry and then tells you to suck it up while he lets you sit in his lap to “make up for it,” without saying sorry. Ever.

When the blonde comes back Touya lets you go, telling you which hallway to go through since this is Shigaraki’s house and you’ve never been. You nod, give his cheek a kiss when he tells you to, and scamper off to relieve your bladder.

Just as you’re closing the door on the way out you see his other friend, Tomura. He’s never worried about Tomura being around, he thinks he’s too creepy and you’ll cry for your nii-san if he tries anything. You don’t think he’s creepy, though. He’s a lot nicer than Touya. Honestly Keigo is the one that creeps you out when he tries to touch you and makes lewd comments to see you flustered. Shigaraki usually just stares a little but it doesn’t really seem like he knows he’s doing it.

You wonder if he’s nice to you because Touya is mean to him, too. You’ve heard him say Tomura couldn’t get a girlfriend if he paid someone and a bunch of other insults. He calls him crusty and says he’s gross, and one time you could’ve sworn you saw him wiping his eyes after Touya finished berating him.

He walks back with you into the main room where Touya and Keigo are laughing at something on one of their phones. When your brother sees you he gets up, pinching your cheek.

“We’re gonna go grab some beer. Play with Tomura or something, yeah?” You nod, not wanting to risk him spanking you in front of his friends again if you said no. He pats your head and heads out with the blonde, leaving you and Shigaraki alone; completely secure in the thought that he’ll come back to you awkwardly playing video games. Or maybe if he’s lucky crying for your nii-san because Tomura’s creepy ass tried to cop a feel.

The two of you end up playing some fps game, sitting in the floor next to each other mashing buttons while you murder your opponents in co-op. You’re not horrible but he’s definitely much better than you and it’s clear he’s completely carrying you through the matches. You keep sneaking glances over at him, admiring the focused expression on his face. It’s a similar expression to the one he has when he’s looking you up and down. You’re not stupid, you can tell when he’s leering at you but for some reason it’s more flattering when it’s him rather than creepy.

Victory flashes across the screen and you set down your controller, pulling your knees up to your chest. He throws his down and goes to the kitchen to grab an energy drink, taking a sip and then offering the can to you to try. Your cheeks burn as you press your lips to the same place his had just been, barely even tasting the liquid inside before handing it back and muttering a thank you.

“Wanna see my setup? It’s way better than the console.” You nod too fast, too enthusiastically, and follow him back down the hall and into his room. It’s gross, there’s empty cans all over the place and laundry covering every inch of the floor. Several hoodies are strewn across his unmade bed and you can’t help but wish you could put one on. You watch him and listen as he tells you about the monitor and how he customized all his stuff, but you don’t understand any of it, simply nodding along and happily taking another sip of his drink when he offers.

“Can I sit?” you ask softly, gesturing to his messy bed. He shrugs, clearly trying too hard to seem indifferent, and you sit, hand smoothing over the soft fabric of his jacket as you move it aside. He sets the can on another empty one on the desk and plops down beside you, much too close for comfort if he were anyone else. You wonder vaguely if your nii-san would make him move.

“You’re cute,” he says bluntly, and you nearly squeak, face burning as you manage a small nod in thanks. He grins widely, gripping your shoulders and looking at you intensely, “So do you wanna go out?” his fingers are digging into you but all you can do is nod again, leaning eagerly when he comes closer until you’re clumsily pressing your lips together.

He almost immediately shoves his tongue down your throat, cupping your face too hard and smushing your face against his. You tangle your fingers in his hair, whimpering when he moves his hands to pinch at your hips and thighs. You cling to him as he pushes you onto your back, his old mattress squeaking loudly under you as he swings a leg over to straddle you, never breaking the kiss.

He tastes like the energy drink, his hair is greasy when your fingers run through it, and you’re pretty sure your head is resting on one of the many questionable stains littering his bed, but you’re elated. Both of you. He gropes harshly at your chest, frantically shoving your shirt up to paw at your nipples, pinching them roughly as he groans into your mouth.

You whimper when he bites your lip, and he pulls away smirking down at your trembling body. His eyes lock onto your chest and he yanks your shirt completely off before setting his sights on the rest of your clothes. You pull him into another kiss while he clumsily works off your pants, pulling them and your underwear, leaving you completely naked and him with everything on.

Blood rushes into your cheeks as he pins your arms, hungrily looking over your bare form as though he’s unsure where to start now that he’s got you. You shyly cross your arms over your chest but he takes and pins your wrists above your head, kissing you briefly before dipping down to your chest. His tongue flicks against your hardened nipple, his free hand pinching at the other one as he starts to suckle the soft flesh. He releases your wrists to grip your thigh, pulling your leg out from under him. You get the hint and wrap them around his waist, the fabric of his t-shirt grazing your clit just enough to make you jump at the contact.

He leans back and pulls his shirt over his head, letting it join the mountains of others on the floor. His eyes lock onto your pussy and his tongue trails along his lip. You’re not sure he’s even aware he’s doing it. Without a word, he delves between your legs, excitedly licking you with no technique or regard for how it feels, merely wanting to taste. You squirm and his arms wrap around your thighs, pinning you as he laps at your folds. His clumsy movements against your clit are enough to send you over the edge, and you grip his hair as you cum, crying his name as your back arches.

He wipes his chin off with one of the random articles of clothing scattered under you and flings it to the floor, crawling over you and latching onto your neck. His cock springs free as he shoves his pants down, bouncing slightly before weighing heavily down. Bigger than you’d imagined, and you’d thought you were generous. You catch him smirk at your reaction, giving it a few pumps for your viewing pleasure.

He lines up the drooling head of his cock and presses slightly in, gathering slick on it before pushing in the rest of the way. The stretch has your eyes rolling back into your head and soft whimpers leaving your lips. His head bumps your cervix as his hips meet yours and you let out a guttural moan, head flopping back onto his bed.

“Fuck,” he groans, looking down at the sight of his pubes pressed flush against your folds. He gives a few experimental thrusts, marveling at how much your walls cling and twitch around him. You moan softly, wrapping your arms around his neck and drawing him into another kiss as he starts to really move. He’s rough, like you expected, hips rolling against yours almost frantically as he fucks you into his mattress.

You’re moaning and panting into each other’s mouths moreso than actually kissing, gripping at limbs as though you’re both worried it isn’t really happening. The bed groans and the headboard smacks against the wall, bed springs squeaking loudly, however it’s not loud enough to drown out either of your moans.

For a time he leans back and smiles wildly at you, not attempting to hide his excitement. His pace is uneven and rapid, borderline inhuman. He grips your hips to keep you in place as he uses you like a toy, immediately stooping to kiss you when you give his arm a little, needy tug. He’s perceptive, trailing a hand gently along your cheek when you cling to him, still reaming you without pause.

Your tongues twirl together as his hands come up to press yours into the bed, fingers interlocked as his thrusts get more animalistic. Tears prick at your eyes, his rough treatment and the friction from his hair pushing you closer to the edge again. As though able to read your mind, he trails a hand down your body, pinching and groping his way to your clit and rolling it in his inexperienced fingers.

You can tell he’s close, his hips sputter and he groans, shoving his face into your neck to suck at your skin and muffle his noises. His treatment of your clit gets rougher, the puffy nub’s abuse bringing you to orgasm. Your eyes roll back in your head and you cry out just as the door opens, giving your brother a front row seat to your O face.

Touya’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates at the sight, Keigo’s immediately doing the same but accompanied by a massive grin. They watch as Tomura groans, unaware of their presence, spilling himself inside as your cunt milks him for all he’s worth. He presses into you deeply, humping his cum against your cervix with a shudder before he collapses on top of you, panting.

You tremble under him, grateful for his body covering yours as your face burns. You shake him slightly and he grunts in response, muffled in your neck. He looks up after a second, concerned at your expression before he turns, face going completely white.

Tomura locks eyes with Touya, both completely at a loss for words. Keigo looks over all your exposed skin he can see, ecstatic look still plastered over his face. You’re looking anywhere except at your nii-san or Keigo, trying not to cry as you pull one of his numerous hoodies over your chest.

“Uh,” Tomura starts, “we got along fine. How was the beer run?” You think you can hear Touya’s brain implode.

[miraelfe]

sitting in the lap of a big, drunk kirishima who keeps gnawing on the spot where your neck meets your shoulder in between conversations. he does it lightly, sweetly, mindlessly; he even presses kisses to the spot every once in a while.

but despite the innocent intent behind it, and the whats supposed to be comforting feeling of him rubbing along the inside of your thigh, he’s made you so visibly flustered that all of his friends in the room are avoiding taking more than a glance at you. though you do catch each of them staring at your boyfriends hand steadily inching closer to the apex of your legs.

[miraelfe]

zoomers i am going to give you some fathrly advice: really plucked brows are coming back. dont do it. you cn permanently fuck them up and in 5 yrs when its not on trend you will look like shit. a groomed natural brow works in every era of fashion theres lots of ways to comb and style brows to trend without mangling them. im just saying this as someone who saw what happened to 80s moms who went crazy wth the tweezers

[miraelfe]

bakugou is definitely the type who smacks ur ass in public when u go to walk away from him. and the worst part is like it’s completely innocent too!😭 u nudge him and tell him ur gonna go to the bathroom real quick n he gives ur ass a quick slap n tells u to hurry back. u say ur gonna go grab some napkins n he hits ur booty w a “k thanks babe”. the man doesn’t even realize he’s doing it n it’s not even a real problem bc it’s innocent. until ur at some stupid gala. press is everywhere. tv cameras live broadcasting. some interviewer is dragging on w bakugou and ur shoes are absolutely killing ur feet but thank god mina notices and swoops in to save the day n take u to ur seat while ur bf finishes up. and out of pure habit—sheer routine, completely innocent habit—katsuki smacks ur ass w a nod as u whisper to him. on live television. broadcasted to the entire country. his ears turn pink and ur cheeks heat up and. yea. maybe the whole ass slapping thing is a bit of a problem.

[miraelfe]

For my Speed Dating Collab and, boy, am I surprised it's not late.

Summary: When Bakugou gets dragged to a speed dating event, months after his break up, he doesn't expect to actually make a connection. But that all changes when you appear in front of his eyes.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: female reader, Bakugou is at least 21, mentions of beer, Bakugou is Bakugou and insults his friends with love. MUST BE 18 OR OLDER TO INTERACT.

Bakugou growls as he slams his locker shut, leaving his work uniform as he grabs his black leather jacket. Sliding it on, he pats down his jeans as he checks to make sure he has everything – phone, wallet, keys – before heading out of the locker room, running into Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero. He lets out a groan before immediately turning to head in the opposite direction, walking fast in hopes he can escape them, knowing that they’ll sucker him into coming along to their standing Friday night drinks.

“Bakubro!” Kirishima shouts as he catches up before Bakugou can get too far, throwing an arm around his shoulders and turning him around, guiding him over to Kaminari and Sero.

“I told you – I’m not joining your shitty outing this week,” Bakugou growls out as he shakes Kirishima’s arm off him.

“Come on, Bakugou. You’ve missed every single one since you and Ochako broke up,” Kaminari says as Sero rubs the back of his neck. “It’s been months, bro. We miss your angry Pomeranian ass.”

Sero and Kirishima both snicker, coughing to cover up their eventual laughs as Bakugou grits his teeth and clenches his fist, “Dunce face. . . I will pummel you right here. We don’t need to go to some dive bar for that.”

“You know what? If it gets you to come out with us tonight, I’ll let you pound on me a little bit,” Kaminari looks Bakugou seriously in the eyes, “but you have to stay for an hour, at least.”

Bakugou licks his lips, “deal. Let’s go and get this shitty outing over with.” Turning his back to them, he heads over to the elevator, mashing the button and missing the look shared between his three friends, calling back behind him, “you three losers coming or what?”

Kirishima pushes open the door, Bakugou, Kaminari, and Sero trailing behind him. He rubs the back of his neck nervously, “Uh, I’m gonna use the restroom real quick. Order me a beer?”

Sero nods before they walk away to the bar, waiting until they’re out of sight before walking up to a long table, covered in a white tablecloth and name tags. He looks at the table, red eyes moving fast to find the four familiar names.

“First time?”

He looks up at the woman working the table, looking at her name tag, “uh, yeah, is it that obvious, Himari?”

“Only to the seasoned veterans and I’ve helped at many events like this. Did you register online?”

“Yes, we did! I’m checking in for three of my friends and myself.”

“Names?” She holds up a clipboard as he lists them off and she checks them off on her board, finds the name tags, handing them to him with four stacks of paper and a pencil for each one, “we’ll be starting in 15 minutes. Rules will also be explained then for you and your friends.”

He thanks her and walks off, saluting her with the stack of papers before pocketing them. He walks over to the bar, sliding up next to Bakugou and picking up his beer, giving Sero and Kaminari a discreet thumbs up as he takes a sip. Kirishima’s eyes look around the room nervously as more and more people file in, hoping Bakugou won’t notice and walk out.

Himari walks over with her clipboard and claps her hands, gaining the attention of everyone in the room, “okay, everyone, welcome to our annual Fifty First Dates event! If you haven’t done this before, that’s more than fine – I’ll go over rules first. If you’re here, then you’ve filled out the online questionnaire when you registered online and have been given a name tag along with a stack of papers to note if you liked someone and want to make a connection with them. You’ll have five minutes with each person then I’ll ring the bell like so,” she taps the bell in her hand three times, the ringing filling the room. “And then the gentlemen will move down a seat for the next person. Most important of all, just have fun! Be yourself! If you haven’t done so already, put on your name tags and follow me into the event room. You have five minutes.”

Bakugou’s hand grips the glass in his hand as he growls out, “speed dating?! You tricked me into a speed dating event?!”

Sero and Kaminari look away as Kirishima puts his hands on Bakugou’s shoulders, “bro, you’ve been miserable and angry for months. Well, angrier than you usually are. You need to get back out there! Meet some people! I know you’re finally over Ochako since you no longer explode any picture or magazine with her face on it. So it’s time to take the final step – meeting people and trying again!”

Bakugou downs the rest of his beer and shrugs him off, “Yeah, speed dating is really what I need – I can see the tabloid headlines now: Exclusive - Pro-hero Dynamight Caught at Speed Dating: Lonely after Uravity Announces Engagement to Deku?! Fuck off. I’m leaving before anyone can see me at this shit event.”

Kaminari speaks up, “we had a deal. You stay for one hour. Just give it a shot, Bakubro.”

“Nah, let him go. Let the whole world and all of hero society think he’s still hung up on Ochako, unable to move on and forever be Dynamight: The Heartbroken Hero,” Sero takes a sip of his beer to hide the smirk on his face as Bakugou’s jaw tenses while he grits his teeth.

“Give me the fucking name tag, shitty hair.”

Kirishima hands out the name tags and stacks of papers, putting his own name tag on, “Hey! That’s the spirit!”

Bakugou lost count of how many boring extras with the same old sob story he’s listened to: “My ex dumped me so I’m getting back out there.” Clearly, she’s still in love with him. “It was either speed dating or I adopt another cat.” A joke but the laughter was forced so they’re not actually looking for a relationship. Probably only doing it to get a loved one off their back. The next one could barely get two words out without breaking down and crying. The heartbreak must have just happened.

All the faces begin to blur together and Bakugou’s head throbs, ready to explode if he has to sit through another moment of this torture. He doesn’t know how much longer he can stand listening to the poor woman in front of him, droning on and on about the daily life of accounting. Ding, ding, ding!

“Oh, thank God,” Bakugou exclaims. “This was the most boring conversation I’ve had to listen to all night and that includes the woman that was only talking about the teeth she needs fixed.”

The woman in front of him is near tears but Bakugou pays her no mind as a scoff from the next seat over reaches his ears, “wow, you are a real asshole, aren’t you?”

The lady gets up and moves to the next seat as soon as she can, gaining a sympathetic smile from Kirishima, as you move in front of Bakugou.

He smirks at you and opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off, “gonna be an asshole to me if I tell you my ‘sob story’?”

“That depends on just how bad your story is,” a humorless chuckle falls from his lips, mischief dancing in his eyes as he leans forward. ‘She just might actually be interesting.’

“Well, you have to earn that story. So tell me yours first.”

“And what guarantee do I have that you won’t run and sell it to the highest bidder?”

“You say that like you’re someone important – someone famous – but you don’t look like a bigshot to me.”

“You really don’t know who I am?”

“Am I supposed to?”

A genuine smile makes it way to his face as he tells you all about what brought him here – the dissolution of the relationship with the woman he thought he would marry, her engagement to someone else not even a month after they broke up, and how dumb, dumber, and dumbest tricked him into going to speed dating. In return, you tell him about what brought you here – that your ex held so little passion and the relationship was so lackluster you never quite felt the spark you were looking for. So you ended it and, now, here you are.

Amidst stories, jokes, and little facts about yourself, Bakugou finds himself groaning for a different reason when the ding, ding, ding! goes off again and the next woman waits for you to get up so she can have her turn to meet Bakugou.

Looking up at her, you remain seated, “you can move along. I’m good staying here.”

She scoffs and looks at Bakugou, who doesn’t even bother to look at her, “you heard the lady. Move along to the next one.”

A laugh falls from your mouth while you look at her glaring at the two of you as she stomps behind you, scraping the chair loudly to sit in front of Kirishima, who has a proud smile on his face at the connection between you and Bakugou.

Looking at his watch, Bakugou leans forward on the candlelit table, grabbing your hand in his slightly warmer ones, “actually, do you want to get out of here? I only promised to stick around for an hour and my time is up. And I know a great ice cream place not too far from here.”

“Ice cream sounds perfect. Let me get my shawl and my purse. I’ll meet you at the entrance?” You smile at him as he nods before pushing your chair back and walking over to the coat check of the restaurant.

Bakugou leans over to Kirishima, “tell dumber and dumbest I left. And I will deny this if you say anything but, uh, thanks for dragging me here. You were right about getting out there.”

Bakugou gets up, not seeing the smile on Kirishima’s face, as he walks over to you, holding his arm out for you to take. As you loop your arm through his, giving him a soft smile, the final cracks in his heart begin to stitch back together.

general tag list: @chibishae34 @patchworkpuzzle

© 2022 to bakuroo-writings. Do not re-upload to wattpad, ao3, or tiktok. Do not recommend on tiktok.

[miraelfe]

Can I get yall on the dorohedoro train pls

Like look at this big hunky lizard babe, he's HUGE and awesome and himbo <3 BUT WAIT THERES MORE

NIKAIDO the bestest girl, well written and HOT and STRONG AND THERES MORE

NOI another bestest girl, she's HUGE and strong and amazing I love

SHIN is he a lil crazy? Yes. They're all a lil crazy but that's normal in this manga/show so UEKSKSNTBalso VERY TALL like everybody else but Noi is taller

There's more characters that are to die for but here you go pls PLEASE someone join me in loving dorohedoro because it really deserves more love

[miraelfe]

JO!!!!!!!!!! I was rereading Going Down and I was inspired. Imagine, if you will: Bakugou’s virgin gf nervous about going down on him and doing it all wrong so of course she calls up her bestie Kiri for tips and he decides hands-on experience will be the best way to help

This accidentally ended up being long—

Warnings: 18+, pervy Kiri, dubcon(ish), coercion, manipulation, virgin!reader, cheating, blowjobs, swallowing, pussy grinding.

Word count: 2.5k

Are we talking about Kirishima coercing Bakugou’s sweet, innocent virgin girlfriend to practise sucking cock with him? To make sure she’s ready for Bakugou and she makes him feel good?

Kirishima convincing you that it’s alright because it doesn’t mean anything, it’s just practise and you wanna make Bakugou feel good right?

He’s such a good guy offering to help you out of the kindness of his heart. Such a nice friend. And he convinces you that there’s no one else Bakugou would rather help you with this, Kirishima is his best friend. He knows him better than anyone else right? So he knows exactly what to show you that he knows Bakugou would like.

“Don’t worry, babe. I’m gonna help you. We’ll make sure you’re a pro by the time you’re over at Bakugou’s, yeah?” You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you shuffle on the couch beside him.

“I’m not sure Katsu would like that.” You mumble, but on the other hand you’re nervous.

“Oh? You don’t wanna make him feel good? That’s okay, I know Bakugou. He won’t mind-“ Kirishima strokes your arm in mock reassurance, but he knows that he’s got to you. Watching the way your brows furrowed slightly as the cogs in your head begin to churn.

“No- that’s not it- I wanna make him feel good-“ You feel Kirishima shift on the couch beside you, his palm moving to cup your cheek gently.

“He’s made you feel good right?” Kirishima asks, more so because he’s trying to find out exactly what you’ve done so far with Bakugou, “He’s touched you, hasn’t he?”

“A little.” You murmur, the words causing Kirishima to clench his jaw to try and keep his composure.

You were pure sin, and the best part was you didn’t even realise it.

“So don’t you wanna make him happy too?” The cute way you nod your head has his cock throbbing. “Don’t worry, babe. You will. Let me show you what he’ll like, yeah?”

Kirishima groans at the way you nod in affirmation, not expecting you to agree with such little argument. His thick cock stirring beneath his sweats at the way you look up at him with those wide, curious eyes. Eager to learn to please your boyfriend, but first you’d be pleasing him.

His thumbs slipping beneath the hem as he pulls his sweats and boxers down in one move, letting them bundle around his thick thighs as his cock springs free. The gentle gasp that leaves your lips is so fucking cute, the airy noise making him throb as he watches you look down at him in awe.

“Eijirou, you’re so big-“ His fat cock is so heavy it doesn’t stand upright, instead resting against his abdomen as he pulls his shirt up. Exposing his muscular frame to you. The dark black hairs that sit at the base of his cock and scatter along his lower body, creating a trail up to his belly button as you see the glistening bead of pre sitting at the tip of his meaty cock, “I don’t think I can-“

Kirishima shushes you softly, his large palm holding your neck as his thumb brushes your jawline. Whispering reassuring words as his other hand moves to wrap around his cock. Giving himself a teasing tug as he begins to use his grip on your neck to push your head down towards him.

“Just take it slow, babe. You’re gonna do such a good job. We’re gonna turn you into a pro for Bakugou, yeah?” A hiss leaving his lips at the innocent way your tongue peeks out from between your cherry lips, giving the smallest kitten lick to the tip of his cock as you swipe away the pre that leaked from his slit.

“Fuck.” He groans when you slip your tongue back inside your mouth, tasting him as your throat bobs, “Do that again.”

“Did it feel good?” Your eyes glance to the side, looking at him from your position on the couch as he nods his head in affirmation. A smile appearing on your face as you move to repeat the motion. This time licking the pad of your tongue against his slit a few times, collecting the fresh pre that dribbles from the tip.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl.” Kirishima coos, watching as you shift your position on the couch beside him. Tucking your knees under your body as you lean over. Pushing your ass out for him perfectly, oh how he wants to pull up your skirt for a better view but he doesn’t want to push you- not yet.

Kirishima’s deft fingers pressing you down harder, watching as you open your mouth and wrap your lips around the tip, “That’s it baby. See, you’re a natural.”

He groans when he feels you begin to suck his tip lightly, your cheeks hollowing as he feels your tongue roll around the underside. His hand gripping his cock at the base roughly as he squeezes. Trying to prevent himself from losing it all too early.

“So good, keep going- make it nice and wet.” He groaned as you pulled back to spit onto his tip, the moisture gliding down his length and pooling against his fist.

There was something so sinful about the way you eagerly took his cock into your mouth, trying to please him even though it wasn’t just for him, not really. You were trying hard because you were so desperate and eager for his praise. And he was going to give it to you-

“Fuck, sweetheart. You’re doing so good. Think you can take more?”

Kirishima watched the way you tried to nod around his cock, pushing your head down further on his length. A little too quick as his bulging tip hit the back of your throat, making you cough and splutter as tears began to pool in your pretty lashes, pulling away from his length to breathe.

Kirishima wishes he could take a picture of exactly how you look right now. A silvery string of your spit and his cum connects your lips to his cock. Breaking off against your face and his thighs as you pull back. Drool spilling from your lips and down your chin as you look so debauched without even doing much.

“Hey, you’re okay. You gotta take it slow.” Kirishima coos down at you reassuringly, keeping his grip on your neck as he begins to push you back towards his cock, “Try and remember to breathe through your nose, yeah?”

“Yes, Eiji.” You reply so obediently, the sound making him groan as you move back into position.

This time you’re more confident, feeling his cock hit the back of your throat as you try to fight the urge to splutter. Muted gagging noises coming from deep in your throat as Kirishima tries to keep you down on his cock.

“Fuck, yes.” He hisses, “That’s it baby. You’re doing such a good job. Bakugou’s gonna be so fuckin’ pleased.”

The sound of you possibly making Bakugou feel good makes you more eager, increasing your pace as you move one of your hands to join his at the base of his cock. Kirishima moving his hand away to let you take over.

“Fuck, you got it.” Kirishima wonders if he can reach for his phone without you noticing. Pulling his shirt up higher on his chest so the fabric isn’t blocking his view of you taking more of his thick cock inside you, “Stroke it while you’re sucking- yeah, that’s fucking it- keep doing that-“

You’re so obedient, doing everything he asks of you. So eager and willing to learn.

“Use your other hand to play with my balls.” Kirishima murmurs and he notices you hesitate. Your hand bracing on his muscular thigh as you shift beside him, “It’s okay, I can help you-“

His hand takes yours in his own larger one, pushing your palm down around his sac, tightening around it as he makes you squeeze him. The sensation causing a loud groan to leave his lips as he’s unable to stop himself from bucking his hips up into your mouth. Taking more of his cock than you expected as you pull away again. Gagging and spluttering as spit and cum stream down onto his cock. Fresh tears pooling in your eyes and gliding down your cheeks, ruining your mascara as you try to catch your breath.

“‘m sorry sweetheart. I’m sorry. You okay?” You nod in affirmation as you try to wipe the mascara lines from your cheeks with the back of your hands.

“‘m fine.” You sniff, “Can we keep going?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Keep practising, yeah?” Fuck, you had no idea what you were doing to him. His cock throbbing as he eagerly told him that he could continue.

Kirishima knew he wouldn’t be able to last much longer, his hand moving down to your ass as he stroked over the roundness. Squeezing slightly as you took him deeper inside your mouth. Eager for more praise as you began to suck harder, your sweet fingers fondling his balls as you worked him towards your release. A low hum leaving your lips and sending pleasurable vibrations coarsing through him.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, sweetheart. Gonna cum inside your mouth, that okay?” Kirishima’s palm moved to the back of your head to keep you down on his cock as he felt you nod, so willing to please him as he began to feel his hips stutter, “Fuck, don’t swallow-“

Kirishima thew his head back with a grunt as he came, spilling his warm cum inside your eager mouth. His fingers still on your head as you spluttered slightly, some of it falling onto his crotch as you pulled back from his length.

You were completely dishevelled, your hair in disarray as his cum dribbled down your chin and onto your shirt. His hand wrapping around your neck to pull you closer.

“Show me, sweetheart.” Your mouth opening eagerly as you curled your tongue, trying to stop the warm liquid from falling out of your mouth, “Oh, fuck.”

“You know how happy you’ll make Bakugou if you swallow after, don’t you?” Your watery eyes nodded in affirmation as you waited for his instruction.

“Show me.” Kirishima groaned as you closed your mouth, your throat bobbing as you swallowed his release. Opening your lips again so your tongue could slip out, showing him your empty mouth as he stroked your thigh, “Good girl.”

“You sure you going to be ready for his cock though, babe? He’s gonna be big… maybe even bigger than me. You wanna show me how you’re gonna ride him?” Kirishima stroked your naked thigh gently as his thick fingers slipped beneath the hem of your skirt as you sat there looking so debauched.

“I can’t, Eiji. We shouldn’t.” You spoke, wide-eyed as you tried to pull back, “He said he was happy to wait for me to do… that.”

Of course, Bakugou would say that. But there was no fucking way he meant it. Bakugou was far from a saint and Kirishima knew he was just as desperate to get into your pants as he was. You were such a fucking tease too, you probably left him all riled up on a near constant basis.

“But you wanna make Bakugou feel good, don’t you?”

You did, you really did. Nodding your head as your lips curved into the cutest pout.

“But I don’t wanna cheat on him, that’s wrong.” You huffed, shifting your thighs as you leaned into Kirishima’s warm touch.

“Well, let’s give you some practise without doing it properly, yeah?”

“How can we do that?” You cocked your head to the side, the motion already had Kirishima’s soft cock throbbing back to life.

It’s not cheating if he doesn’t put it in—

“C’mere.” He murmurs, pulling your legs over his thick thighs as the back of his knuckles graze against your soaked panties.

God, you were pure sin.

“Has Bakugou ever touched you here?”

“A few times.” The response has his head falling back onto the back of the couch. His cock already hard again as it sits between your bodies.

“Show me,” He rasps, his hands moving to your hips as he pulls you against the underside of his length, “Show me how you’re gonna ride Bakugou, yeah?”

“I can’t.” You whine, the sound only making him want you more.

“Yes, you can. Come on, Princess.” Kirishima’s hands begin to grind your clothed cunt along his length. Feeling how soaked your panties are against him. Wanting to tear them off you so he can feel your naked slit against him. Shocked at how wet you were making him even through the thin fabric, “Like this, yeah?”

Kirishima smirks in victory as you move your hands to his shoulders to steady yourself, rolling your hips as you begin to stroke your cunt along his cock, pressing harder against him as he felt your lips begin to split around his cock.

“Good girl.” He growled through gritted teeth, his pre soaking his chest as he moved his hands to the round globes of your ass. Squeezing the soft skin as he began to help you grind against him.

“Usin’ my fat cock to get yourself off? Yeah you are-“ Kirishima groaned, moving his lips forward to press against your neck.

“Eiji, no marks!” You gasped, trying to pull back but his grip was firm against your ass.

“I know, baby. I know.” He cooed softly, moving his fingers between your thighs to pull your panties to the side. Hissing when he felt your bare lower lips pressing snug against his cock.

“Is this good, Eij?” You mumble, “Am I making you feel good?”

“So good, baby. You’re gonna make me cum again.” Kirishima groaned as he watched you selfishly trying to get yourself off on his cock, chasing your own release.

Oh how he wished he could pull your clothes off and see what you looked like beneath, wondering if there was a way he could convince you to do so that made it seem like he was being a good guy. Already trying to angle your body to get a look at your puffy folds, loving the delicate whines that left your lips as your clit caught against the thick veins that scattered along his cock.

“I feel funny.” You whined, the noise making his cock throb as he began to use his grip on your ass to rub you against his cock with more vigour. Seeing the creamy lines your essence had left against him as he ground you against his cock.

“Yeah, you gonna cum for me baby?” Kirishima felt himself throbbing at the thought. Watching the way your face contorted in pleasure as you chased your own high, “Come on sweetheart, cum all over my cock.”

You felt your body tremble as your orgasm surged through you, your toes curling as you threw your head back in a loud keen, fingertips squeezing his shoulders as your hips spammed. Kirishima finding his own end as he came with a grunt. His cum spurting out and coating his chest and shirt as he looked down to see the mess between your bodies.

“Do you think I’ll be able to make Katsu feel good, Eiji?” The sweet sound of your voice, so eager for praise already had him throbbing again.

Did you have any fucking idea how lewd you really were?

“I’m not sure, sweetheart. I think you might need more practise. You wanna make him feel real good, right?”

[miraelfe]

im addicted to ya tattooed todo aoi ✋🏾✋🏾 like 🥴🥴😩

GLAD WE’RE BRINGING THIS BACK BCCCC

listen to me closely.

todo was ecstatic when you walked through the door to get a second tattoo. he was quick to call you his regular (despite only having gotten one other tattoo from him), whispering in your ear that he’d take care of any tattoos you get going forward. and now you’re back in the palm of his hand, adorably squirmy and far too quiet with your pain.

you tell him you want it between your collarbones this time, right at the base of your neck, and todo has to hold his breath so the blood will rush to his face instead of his dick. he has you lay down on your back, sitting by your head so he can lean over your face. are there better ways to access your neck? yes. but does he want to see his chains dangle in your face? yes.

so he cages your head with his arms, turning on the gun and taking a breath.

"aight, shortcake," he says. "you ready for me?"

with a quick lick of your lips that he definitely doesn't replay multiple times in his mind, you tell him yes.

he gets to work, sometimes placing a large, heavy hand at the juncture of your neck and your shoulder to keep his gun steady. you're taking it better than last time, he notes. you don't shift around nearly as much, doing your best to keep still, focusing on the glint of his chains under the fluorescent lights. you still whimper from time to time, at which he coos gentle encouragement that "you're okay" and "you're almost there", but overall you're handling it well. when his chain taps your chin a little too much, he mutters an apology and traps it between his teeth.

not that you seem to really mind. now that he’s actually observing instead of ogling you like some shady mf, it’s obvious that you want him. whenever his hands spread across your neck, your thighs clench. you keep sneaking glances at him when you think he can't see, watching from the corner of your eye when he turns to get something. but it seems you, like todo, don’t want to get too excited and ruin things by making a move.

it's reasonable of you. and it'd be reasonable of todo to leave you alone. you aren't the first person to develop a slight attachment to him and you probably won't be the last. but then you ask him about his tattoos, how long he's been an artist, where he's from, and you're so obvious with you desire to get closer to him that he can't help but abandon his usual professionalism altogether in favor of zeroing in on you.

it'll take a while to claim you the way he wants to, so he thinks of the tattoos as a way to mark his territory on you in the meantime. it’s his art, his ink going on your body forever. he knows it’s depraved, a little fucked up to think of you like that, but it's better than outright sucking a hickey into your skin right here. and when it occurs to him that he can mark his territory in another, more obvious way, he doesn’t hold himself back from making the offer.

you see, tattoo artist todo aoi is from the hood.

therefore, he is fashionably decorated in the hood classic sense. sleeves and neck tattoos, yes, but i’m talking huge diamond studs on his ears, gold chains, gold bracelets, and if he opens his mouth enough, you can see he’s got gold on his canines, too. lives in baggy jeans and a plethora of jerseys, except almost none of the latter are bought, having come from his college athlete days. so when you ask where he gets them from, he says that’s they're one of a kind. can't find them in any stores.

enter, the offer.

“why?” he asks, looking down at you. from this angle, it'd be easy for him to plant a quick kiss on your glossy lips. he doesn't. “you tryna take one home?”

he doesn’t care how you respond to the question—he’s already telling you to take the one he's wearing, keep it for a couple days and give it back when you're ready. says it all with a shrug and a straight face as he puts the finishing touches on your tattoo, like he’s already decided that you will. like walking around in his jersey is completely normal for someone who isn’t dating him, let alone his client, to do.

your stunned silence doesn't escape his notice, but he pretends it does. he pulls you to stand in front of him so he can apply the saniderm, coming face to face with your collarbones. and just as you get ready to object, insist that you can’t take his clothes from him, he scoots you back just slightly.

then he’s going up, up, eye level where you were once looking down at him, until it’s his chest that comes parallel with your eyes. he shrugs off his jersey, leaving him in a basic grey tank, and drapes it over you, trying his hardest not to let a feral grin take hold of his features. you just look so cute, swathed in his clothes. you're barely keeping your excitement contained. taking slow, deep breaths of his cologne. you're so fucking tantalizing, he just wants to fold you over the table and stuff you full of his dick until your eyes roll into your head. maybe even give you head—no, definitely give you head. he wants you in tears, babbling incoherently because you don't know whether to beg him to stop or keep going, only to stop breathing altogether because you're cumming on his tongue and—

todo blinks.

he needs to chill out before he gets himself caught up.

he buttons the jersey for you, brushing off your profuse gratitude. not because he doesn't appreciate it, but because he'll seriously ruin your life if he doesn't get you out of here now. he wants to at least try to get with you the right way—and rearranging your guts in the back of a parlor is not the way to do it.

so he guides you back to the front, where there's more social pressure to keep himself in line and less temptation to fuck you silly. checking you out is easy. your aftercare instructions go by fast, too. but your final goodbye, said as you push open the front door and the bells chime overhead, happens in slow motion.

because the sunlight catches on your hair as you wave to him over your shoulder, giving you an angelic halo. and you’re barely crossing the property threshold, but he’s already missing your touch. it's okay, though. his name is written across your back now, like a public declaration that you're his. his ink is carved into your hip and your neck, permanently. and when you come back to return his jersey, he'll trade it for his number and his address and tell you to come by. he'll start taking you out, get to know you, ask you properly to be his girlfriend, and spoil the hell out of you every single day. because that's what he really wants, even more than he wants to fuck you till the cops come knocking.

todo clenches his teeth. some time during his little daydream, time sped back up and carried you out the door. he misses you, for real.

but it's alright, he tells himself. you'll be back.

[miraelfe]

STRETCH YOU OUT [ a. todo ]

↬︎ anime: jujutsu kaisen

↬︎ pairing: aoi todo x reader

↬︎ warning(s): swearing, daddy kink, dom!todo, mirror sex, public sex, creampie, & choking

wc. 1.7k

PLOT. best friend todo has some nsfw thoughts for his bestie.

ADVISORY. reader is female and black unless stated otherwise.

TODO SAT ON THE small, cheap dressing room bench. legs spread wide and posture relaxed. you two were the only ones back there. him watching you try on clothes, hoping to find one for an event the schools were having. he was your best friend, always accompanying you anywhere you wanted to go.

you had came back from searching the racks for another dress. two options were in either hands and you approached the intimidating male with a smile.

“emerald green or aquamarine blue?”

todo thought for a second, his eyes scanning the two options. they were similar dresses; both in a satin like material and with thin spaghetti straps. they looked tight, like they’d hug you in all the right places.

he wanted to hug you in all the right places.

“green.” he answered, just after clearing his throat.

you smiled happily, tossing the other dress on the return rack next to you, you entered the dressing room assigned. todo could barely hold it together. after almost seeing you naked, on accident, the other day his lewd thoughts of you had begun plaguing his mind all the time.

but the ones that lingered the most were about your pussy. how it tasted, how wet it would get if he were to just caress you through your panties. if you’d sit on his face and allow him to bring you over the edge, again and again and aga—

“aoi, can you come zip me? my hands are slipping.”

shit. you wanted him to go in there?? his eyes trailed down to the obvious bulge in his pants and he cursed himself for wearing sweats.

adjusting himself, todo stood up and let out a shaky breath. “y-yeah. just unlock the door peaches.”

there was shuffling and then a click and the off white door was open for him to enter. his huge size made it a tight fit with him pushing you closer to the mirror, your hands on either side of the glass to brace yourself. todo closed the door behind him, taking a breath to ground himself. the 6’3 hardly ever got nervous. not even when meeting his favorite idol, but you—you made todo anxious.

“you okay aoi?” your soft voice pulled him from his head and his eyes snapped to yours in the mirror.

you looked so good. tits pressed firmly against the tight fabric and cleavage displayed deliciously for him to stare at. your piercing eyes holding his gaze made his cock twitch in his pants as he thought about you looking at him while eating your pussy out from the back. or rearranging your guts.

“mhm, let me know if my hands are too cold.” he responded, changing the subject.

todo’s hands were large in nature, rough from working out and fighting, but they soft as his thick fingers worked to zip up your dress. truthfully, you knew what you were doing. todo, while he was your friend, was an extremely handsome human being and on a whim, you decided to pull this stunt. there was a 50% chance of it working out and part of you hoped it did.

shifting your self a little lower towards the mirror, ass almost kissing todo’s bulge, you lowered your voice and asked him the question. “do i look pretty aoi?”

“fucking gorgeous peaches.” todo whispered breathlessly.

his eyes were no longer on yours and instead, were watching your body as his hands traveled down from your upper back to your sides and stopping just at the curve of your ass.

“gorgeous enough to eat? daddy?” the seductive tone in your voice was enough to have the man groan deeply behind you.

he was close. you knew he was from the way his hands would flex and grip your hips a little tighter. pushing back on him harder, practically resting his dick in between your cheeks, you whimpered. “please?”

and that was all it took for todo to move his hands to grab your ass cheeks tightly and forcefully pull you completely into him. his chin was resting slightly on your shoulder, eyes now looking at you in the mirror but yours were closed, relishing in the way his hands felt mapping out your curves.

“open your eyes for me sweet girl.” todo murmured into your ear just as one hand slipped under your dress to massage your inner thigh.

your eyes flew open in anticipation, goosebumps rose on your skin easily at his actions. “aoi.” you moaned, desperate for him to move his hand higher up.

todo wanted to spend days worshipping your body, truly appreciate you for the beauty that you were. but he didn’t have days, nor hours to bask in your breathless praises and siren-like moans. todo had minutes before someone walked back here and caught him fucking into you like he had seconds to live.

nibbling at your neck to tease you, but not enough to leave a mark, he smiled when you let out another pretty moan for him. you were so responsive to everything he did. he’d have to take advantage of it another day, but today he needed to be quick.

“i can’t take care of you like i want to today, peaches. that ok?”

you nodded your head, almost starting to cry from how slow he was moving. but you knew it was the lust talking because todo was by no means small. and you were going to regret not being properly prepped in the future.

todo’s hand wrapped around your neck easily, he squeezed gently before tilting your head back so that you were actually looking at him, “use your words.”

this was new. you had your desires for him but being in the actual moment was new and it felt like you could never catch your breath, everything about him was hot.

“yes sir.”

“good girl.” he grinned, giving your neck another squeeze before letting go and focusing on the tight green dress obstructing him from what he actually wanted.

unzipping the dress quickly, todo was careful enough not to damage it. you still had to wear it after all. your breast were exposed to him for the first time and todo really began to hate that you guys were in a dressing room and not in his bedroom.

“don’t get tired on me sweet girl. i plan on having you again later.”

at this point, you were roughly biting your lips in order to hold back the sounds todo’s words were causing you to make. “please todo! want you inside me now.” you begged, surprised at the person you became in the heat of the moment.

kissing you for the first time, todo’s hands worked on pulling your soaked underwear away from your dripping cunt and one hand cupped your mound, toying with your clit while the other pulled himself from the confinement of his sweats.

your muffled moans seemed loud in the small stall and you had to grip harder on the edges of the mirror as your body shook from the pleasure his fingers were giving you. “p-please!”

todo thought this was a dream. having you like this was a reoccurring thought in his head and he just could not fathom the idea that he had you crying and moaning for him. gripping his thick cock, todo spread your pussy lips apart and teased your entrance with his tip.

“let me know if you wanna stop, okay?”

nodding your head, you pushed your hips back to try and get todo to slip his cock into you, but he stopped you by grabbing your hips and stilling you in place. “you’ll take what i give you.”

and before you could respond, todo had pushed into in one move, fully sheathing his monster cock in your small hole. a sharp yelp moved past your lips before todo’s big hand covered them.

“fuck y/n! been keeping this pussy to yourself? didn’t wanna share with daddy?” todo’s lewd accusations had you shaking your head.

no! you always wanted to share with daddy.

“i’ll teach you how to fucking share.”

you were thankful for todo’s hand over your mouth. moans spilt out of you continuously and whines of pleasure followed after them. you could scream and cry and no one would hear you. but it was redundant when todo’s balls kissed the back of your thighs with every thrust of his. and the sounds of your arousal gushing out of you were loud on their own.

he felt so good. so warm and big and long enough to do what was needed and more. removing the hand off your mouth, todo brought his fingers back to your clit and began rubbing tight circles into the bundle of nerves. had he not of been holding you by your waist, your knees would’ve buckled in pleasure.

“a-aoi—mmph—so close!” you quietly screamed when he pinched your nub.

todo cursed lowly, feeling your walls tighten around him the more he played with your clit. you were amazing around him. the jujutsu sorcerer hoped this wasn’t a one time thing. that you’d let him properly date you and fuck you like a whore romantically.

“where do you want me peaches?” todo moaned, feeling himself close to the end.

you swallowed a moan of your own before answering. “in me.” you whispered, eyes trained on the cum ring at the base of his dick from your cream.

the mirror was foggy and barely visible, but the both of you could see where his cock pushed in ‘n out of you with ease. strings of slick forming each time todo pulled back to push back in. the sight was becoming too arousing and before you could even warn him, you were creaming around his cock, eyes rolling backwards and mouth dropped open in a silent scream.

todo could thank god that he caught your facial expression as you came. such a lewd look for a pretty girl, but it had him cumming deep into you, hips stuttering and his grip on your hips bruising. your body lightly shook as the both of you came down from the high.

“excuse me? is everything alright in there?”

oh shit.

NOTE. writing smut freaks me out but i love it sm at the same time!! pls lmk how i did on this one! <3

↬︎ join the taglist: @rubinocore @nyxeclipse @sweeneyblue1 @knjkitten @namjoonswifeyy @sunrayyellowhalo @pimpnameyannie @brownmochi @gabzlovesu

[miraelfe]

THE LOVE YOU GET IS EQUAL TO THE LOVE YOU GIVE | PART ONE

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!Reader Warnings/Tags: 18+ mdni, aged up characters, arranged marriage, dub con (just in case), body worship, oral + fingering (f!receiving), unprotected sex, edging, overstimulation, creampie, dacryphilia, just a dash of angst Word Count: 6.5k a/n: I’m not certain how many parts there will be, at least 3, maybe 4.  I wanted to get this part out at least before working on my next collab piece though.

Summary: When your parents arrange for you to wed Bakugou Katsuki, you start to actually fall for the brash hero, but no matter how hard you try to please him, you worry he’ll never feel the same for you, and you come to realize you desperately want him to.

You were getting married.

You were getting married to one, Bakugou Katsuki—the pro hero, Dynamight.

In reality it was a quirk marriage, but no one dared call it that.  Your parents and his insisted it was because they were worried about your prospective love lives, worried that you’d both end up alone if it were left up to you.  They only had your best interests at heart.

You still didn’t know how you felt about it—no, that was a lie—you were terrified.  You’d heard of Bakugou’s famed hot blooded temper and brooding attitude, and you, you were everything he wasn’t.  

You were meek, quiet, clumsy.  Your confidence was nowhere near as high as his.  Even your quirk, in your opinion, wasn’t all that great—even if your parents seemed to think it would match well with his.  

You had no real domestic skills; you were hopeless when it came to cooking or fixing things, and cleaning wasn’t exactly your strong suite, nor had you ever really excelled at your job either.  What could you offer Bakugou other than your quirk… or your body?  You felt like a piece of meat your parents had offered up to the wolves and it wasn’t fair.

Though, it wasn’t like you had many prospects on your own.  This was probably your only chance. 

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