#so I reduced it to just the collar arms and legs

[yandere-writer-momo]

Author’s note: I am stuck in a slump so I’m going to write a guilty pleasure of mine… the body swap trope except this time, with a twist. And of course with the one that got away trope. I adore it so very much like black cherry ice-cream.

Yandere Head Canons:

The Husband Swap

Yandere Shapeshifter x Married Fem Elf Reader x Neglectful Drow Husband

TW: yandere content!! Mentions of smut, dubcon, tentacles, monster fucking, size kink, manipulation, voyeurism, oral, and unhealthy relationship.

Art from Veil Manga

You had been married to your husband, Nikolai Sokolov, for many years. An arranged marriage set up amongst your people as a peace treaty… you, a high elf, wed to a drow, dark elf. And Nikolai was often cold to you… despite how often you attempted to bond with him.

Nikolai refused to eat any of the food you made and he constantly brushed aside your attempts to get to know him. He cared little for this arranged relationship and treated you as if you were some mere commoner, a fact that only made your heart sting.

Nikolai would occasionally share a bed with you, but it was often out of fulfilling his needs. He cared little for your pleasure and only cared to satiate his own.

One day, Nikolai bought you a servant just to get you to leave him alone (outside of sex). A shapeshifter.

A magic collar was bound tightly around their silver neck as a preventative to their ability to shift. They were now powerless and subservient. A trait that most shapeshifters didn’t have since they were quite sly by nature. You wondered what this creature had done to have been reduced to a servant…

Their name was Lev Snegur and they were close in age to you and Nikolai. The shapeshifter was somewhat masculine looking with sharp features and pitch black eyes. A genderless species that never uttered a sound, what wonderful company to have.

You often tried to engage in small talk with them, but they remained as silent as the depth of night. Not a peep left their lips to ever give you input. It unnerved you.

You were very sweet to them and even offered to share meals, but they only stared at you. Talking to Lev was like talking to a brick wall that nodded at times. Lev was an incredibly good listener.

Lev’s company did little to satiate the ache in your heart and the all consuming loneliness. You were so isolated in this empty home filled with bitterness. And you started to accept that you’d never find any warmth with him. Nor would you find solace in your silent servant’s company.

Occasionally you’d wake up covered in a slight sweat, a puddle of dampness below you. The room would always feel of sex, yet you hardly had any of that… but you were always a bit sore between your legs when you’d wake up on mornings like this. Had you been having wet dreams due to your consistent loneliness? Or was there something foul at play?

So it was a surprise when Nikolai bounced into your room like a puppy one morning. His arms wrapped around your side while he inhaled your scent. What on earth was he doing?

“Nikolai?” Nikolai placed a finger on your lips, a mischievous look in his crimson eyes.

“Shh, I have a surprise for you!” Nikolai gave you a bright grin that made you do a double take. You’ve never seen your grumpy husband smile in his entire life. This had to be a dream… you gave yourself a pinch and hissed at the pain you inflicted on your poor arm. Nope. Not a dream.

Nikolai lead you out of the room to where a grand meal was set before you consisting of all of your favorite delicacies. You had no idea your husband even knew you adored such food…

“Do you like it?” His face was hopeful as he took your hand in his. “I’ve come to a realization that you genuinely care for me… so I will treat you better.”

And from that day forth, Nikolai was more attentive than he ever had been. He insisted you should move into his room and he often cuddled with you… it was so odd. This entire situation was bizarre, almost as if this was another person and not your husband.

It was when Nikolai went down on you for the first time that your mind truly began to believe he was another man. When did he learn how to please you and why did he eat you out like a man starved? This wasn’t your husband… this was an imposter.

When ‘Nikolai’ made love to you, he felt bigger. You swore he was nearly two to three inches than he used to be, which made your stomach protrude like you had a baby bump. And his hands ardently grasped at every bit of your body as he could.

It wasn’t too uncommon for you to find your husband sniffing your hair like some sort of animal. You were so scared…

The longer you spent time with ‘Nikolai,’ the more paranoid you became. There were less and less drows around now and your servant was missing… you were starting to become afraid.

But you never were able to get much time to think about it too much since ‘Nikolai’ was always dutifully by your side. There was never any time to ask questions… until tonight. You decided to ask him… for you feared you’d fall off the deep end into insanity if you didn’t.

“Where’s Lev?” You softly asked Nikolai whose fingers paused their dance over your scalp. His crimson eyes glanced over to your face.

“And why do you care so much about a shifter when your husband is here?” Nikolai asked in a bitter tone, but you could see a bit of excitement in his eye. And it made your heart pulse in your brain.

“Well, I miss Lev.” You softly whispered. It wasn’t a complete lie. You did miss your servant who always listened to you, but you preferred his silent company over the overbearing presence of your changed husband.

“Hmm… well, we can go see him if you’d like.” Nikolai rose up from the bed and wrapped a black robe over his bare chest. “He’s in the dungeon.”

You were a bit shocked by your husband’s words. “What do you mean? Lev never did anything wrong-“

“My wife is too kind for her own good.” Nikolai held your chin to pause you from rambling on even more. His eyes were filled with so much emotion, it froze you in place. “It’s what I love most about you.”

You gulped and averted your gaze, your cheeks felt hot.

Lev lead you down the hallway and down the winding stairs to the dungeon, his hand gently held yours. You felt dread creep up into your stomach the closer you went to the dingy dungeon. Your nerves felt as if they were on fire…

And the sight before you terrified you to your core, the angled corpse of Nikolai laid sprawled out on the brick flooring. His lifeless eyes turned toward the door and his mouth agape in a horrific scream forever frozen on his rotting face.

You tried to flee but your ‘Nikolai’ began to shift, slender hands now held you firmly in place while your captor’s face slowly morphed into the bewitching creature named Lev.

“It didn’t take much to overpower him. Your husband was too cocky to notice I figured out how to disarm the collar.” Lev’s voice made your blood run cold from how raspy it was. His voice low and monotonous despite the various emotions that hid beneath the surface of his eyes. “To whack him over the back of the head with a sword hilt and drag him down here. It was child’s play really.”

“Are you going to kill me too?” You whimpered when his grip tightened around your arms. His face filled with concern.

“Kill you? Nonsense, I’d never kill my wife!” Lev began to pepper your face with numerous kisses while his arms snaked around your waist. “I mean it when I say I love you, I love you more than that bastard ever could.”

You try to protest, but you feel something slimy wrap around your legs and give them a squeeze. Your eyes are wide in terror at the black tendrils that snaked around your plush thighs. What on earth?!

“And I can certainly fuck you better than he ever could… I can show you things no other monster could ever show you, so won’t you indulge me? I promise I’ll blow your mind.”

[dante-mightdie]

pup!141x pup!reader x owner!price didn’t hurt enough please make me cry

okay but remember you asked for it

c/w: just pure angst/no comfort, hybrid!au

you’d lost your spark recently in the past few weeks. your usual bouncy, playful self was now reduced to a melancholy shell of what you used to be. you spend your days curled up in bed, your favourite toy clutched in your arms as you stare blankly at the wall

no one had really paid you any mind. simon, johnny and gaz were far too busy with their new playmate and you had a funny feeling that she was gonna be more permanent than price claimed

speaking of price, he’d tried to liven you up. take you on walks, buy you toys or offer you treats but you just didn’t seem too interested. far too distraught over your pack basically disowning you

so he left you he for a couple of weeks, hoping that you’d break yourself out of this rut. until, one morning when you awoke to the sound of your leash clinking around your collar and the sight of john crouching next to your bed

“c’mon, love. we’re going a for a drive…” he said, offering you a closed lip smile. you tried to protest, snuggling further into your bed but he wasn’t having it. he gave your leash a firm tug, not even to hurt but enough to get you moving, albeit begrudgingly

the drive was silent, an uncomfortable feeling in the air. as if you were driving towards your own demise. you leant your head against the window, watching the buildings fly past as you keep your favourite toy clutched in your lap. the one john got for you when he first bought you home

in the corner of your eye, you can see him glance at you every once in a while. you’re sure there’s a frown on his face each time. you ponder where he could be taking you, probably to the park like he’d tried before in the past few weeks

but your wondering didn’t last long as you soon approached your destination. you feel your heart drop in your chest, am your head perking up for the first time during the whole car journey as the dull building comes into view

a pet shelter

you snap your head at john when he parks the car, hands trembling in your lap as you head starts running through all the possibilities as to why he’s bought you here but your brain can only come up with one singular reason

“john? I-I don’t understand…” you stutter, eyes watering up with tears. your breathing picks up with a panicked rhythm meanwhile john can’t even look at you when he utters up a response

“I’m so sorry, love…” he says, shaking his head slightly as he looks down at his lap. he doesn’t waste anymore time as he soon begins climbing out of the car, coming round to your side and pulling you out with a gentle tug of your leash

you dig your heels into the concrete, adamant you’re not moving when he tries to take you inside. pleas and begs leaving your mouth as tears begin to slip down your cheeks. john’s face is stoic as he collects you in his arms, walking inside where he’s met with a woman ready and waiting to take you off of his hands

there’s a kind sympathetic smile on her face when john places you at her feet but you don’t care as you wrap your arms around his leg, preventing him from leaving. you sob and cry into his trouser leg

“please, don’t leave me here. I just wanna go home. I’ll be good, I promise. please, just don’t leave me here, john.” you wail, clinging onto him even as he leans down to undo your collar before slipping it into his pocket

“I’m sorry, love. you be a good girl, yeah?” he mumbles, placing a kiss to the top of your head before giving you one last smile. the look on his face indicates that he’s having a hard time getting through this without breaking himself

he says nothing more as he pries your hands off of him, the kind woman keeping a firm grip on your leash as you sob and reach for him. but you’re only granted a view of his back as he walks out the door and out of your life :(

[hitomisuzuya]

Stepcest, DNI if it's uncomfortable you. Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Slut training. Scara receiving. Collar. Degradation. Some soft Scara. Masturbation.

I'm trying to work out some writers block, so I am just free typing on a whim😅 I'm sorry if this terrible😭

Every other month, there were three weeks where your mom's left you both alone for some business or another. Each time they left, he always promised he would take good care of you. You sure would be taking good care of him.

Scaramouche enjoyed these weeks the most, and he sure enjoyed the hell out of you. How could he not when his precious stepsister was always so willing to please? You were so easily trainable.

He got you a new collar each time to wear around the house freely. He dressed you up in skirts and stockings, having you walk around with no panties on in certain skirts. Thigh high stockings were his favorite. That delicious little peek of thigh above the hem of your skirt always drove him insane.

It became routine for you suck him off in the morning in the shower. Your sucks were utterly worshipping on his cock, making him weak in the knees and reducing him to whimpering behind moans, his head resting against the wall with his eyes closed. His fingers gripped your hair a little tighter the closer he came to cumming.

Scaramouche legs shook as you gagged on his cock, holding your head in place while he thrust his cock in and out of your mouth. "Swallow it all, fucking slut," He groaned, his cum spurting into your eager mouth. "Be a good girl and don't waste a drop," His fingers stroked through your hair, a soft whimper keening from him, your throat tightening on his cock as you obediently swallow, looking up at him adoringly, your knees aching from being pressed on the floor of the tub.

His favorite place to fuck you was the master bedroom. It was such a rush for him to defile his darling stepsister, his willing cock sleeve, on his mother's bed.

Some nights he wouldn't put his cock in you at all. Making you look at him while you fingered yourself or used a vibrator, tears welling in your eyes while you whimpered and begged for him to fuck you. That you couldn't make yourself cum with your fingers as you desperately pumped them in and out of your clenching hole was a good way to train you crave his cock.

When he took your fingers or the toy away from you, your puffy cunt twitching and clenching, your clit swollen and sensitive, Scaramouche would spread your legs and rub his cock between your folds, snapping your stockings against your thighs. "Beg for it, whore. Beg for just the tip," He hissed, dragging the head of his leaking cock on your clit, "who knows, I may give it you depending on how sweet you sound." He would hold the head of his cock on your clit as his cum pooled between your folds.

After a long night to fucking his cum into you, Scaramouche liked to sleep in late into the afternoon, with you safely tucked against his chest in his arms. The comforting warmth your body brought him being up against his, the way you sigh softly in your sleep while his fingers lazily and sleepily run through your hair were moments to treasure to him.

You are more than just a fuck toy for him to enjoy. You are his whole world.

He loved it when you rested your head in his lap while he read or when you were watching a movie or a show on TV together.

The way you were putty in his hands when he bounced you on his cock, his hands groping and smacking your ass sent him reeling. Your slick would ooze around his cock, a buldge poking up in your stomach from how deep he was fucking his cock into your drooling cunt. You would absolutely melt into his touches as his hands greedily groped your body and grasped your waist. "Is my slutty sister gonna cum?" His fingers pinched and played your nipple

You could barely manage a nod, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you drooled and moaned about how good your stepbrother's cock was making you feel.

Scaramouche's beautiful fingers hooked through your collar, yanking your body down to capture your lips in a rough, dominant kiss. "Answer me, whore," He hissed, biting your lips.

"I am! I am! I want to cum on my stepbrother's cock so badly!" You whimpered, licking at his mouth submissively. You sound just as sweet as your cunt did clenching around his cock.

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱ Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Eight ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Eight Warnings: profanity, smut (nsfw content) oral (f recieving) How to find the other chapters in my pinned post.

♱Where the purest soul in Heaven falls for the Devil♱

[Chapter Eight]

“Lucifer,” you hissed, swooping down towards a balcony jutting out into the red sky. Lucifer grinned at you awkwardly, and your eyes flicked to his rolled up sleeves as your wings retracted into your back. 

“[name],” he said, and his voice seemed to be bursting with an eagerness for something you couldn’t place. His eyes scanned the sky, before reaching out to grab your arm and pull you in. You stumbled into his chest, feeling his arm circle around you in an embrace. You pulled back and stared into his golden eyes. “Every time you leave the year feels even longer.”

Your eyes fell onto his bow, and you fiddled with it for a moment before glancing back up at him. You leaned in.

The second your lips met his hand was on your waist, gripping it tightly and pulling you in, kissing you hungrily as if he was dying in the desert and you were an oasis. You felt his teeth nip at your bottom lip and you pulled away, heart pounding. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, flush and out of breath. You watched him struggle to keep the smile off of his face. “Just missed you.”

You tilted your head to the side, eyes flicking down to his lips. He seemed to sense what you were about to do seconds before your hand went for his collar, pulling him in for another, hungrier kiss. 

You pulled away. “Missed you too.”

♱♱♱

You pulled a ring out of your satchel, dropping it into his hand. You watched his fingers closing around it. 

You did this, every year- you’d bring something of your own to give to him, a keepsake. 

Sitting back on the bed, you kicked your feet, watching him hide the ring away in a drawer. A drawer who’s top surface had been dominated by a cursed amount of ducks. They were multiplying. Of course, they were. 

“You really are building an army, huh?” 

Lucifer glanced at you, a smile spreading across his face. You slouched,  wondering if you should tell him about Adam’s plan to get the wait between exterminations, reduced, but in the end pressed your lips shut. If it wasn’t going to happen there wasn’t any point in mentioning it anyways, or not with much urgency at least.

“How’s your year been?” You glanced up at Lucifer. With a flick of your hand, you beckoned him over, something which he complied to eagerly. You flushed at the look that he gave you.

“It’s been fine,” you murmured. “Other than Adam won’t take the hint, and an exorcist screamed at me the next morning after falling asleep drunk on my couch-“ you raised your eyebrow at the fact that he had decided to sit down on the floor looking up at you- “it’s been quite uneventful. Oh. And I started growing these new flowers.”

Upon hearing Adam’s name, you could feel him tense up against your leg. “So he still hasn’t backed off, huh?”

“No. Why, you worried I’m gonna say yes to him?” You smirked, and he looked up at you, grinning nervously. You flicked his forehead playfully. 

“Well, I uh- never mind, then,” he rambled nervously, hand on the back of his neck. You smiled softly, and he managed a smile back, although a bit crooked. Then something in his expression changed. 

“Well, I won’t,” You reassured him, eyes trained outside the window, not noticing him clench and unclench his fists, or lick his lips. 

“I should hope not,” he said, sounding slightly breathless. You leaned back, deciding to pretend as if you didn’t notice a change in his tone. But you did. 

His eyes flicked up and down your body, once, then slower next time. You felt his hand slide onto your thigh. “What are you doing?” You murmured, and it took all you had to keep your voice level and not rise to a squeak.

“[name],” he said, and his voice shook lightly. 

“Yes?”

You didn’t need to hear him say what he was thinking next. You already knew it. 

His hand slid in between your legs, fingers ghosting across your inner thigh. You shivered, watching his adam’s apple move as he gulped. 

“Can I…?” His voice was low.

Your muscles tensed, all your breath escaping you as he pressed his lips against the side of your thigh, eyes looking up at you, pleading. 

“Please-“

“Yes.” 

You felt him tense against you, before a smirk spread across his face, and fuck it’s hot, and now your skirt was riding up your legs and your heart was pounding a million beats a minute. 

His lips trailed their way up your thigh again, warm against your skin, leaving a trail of small bruises and bites slowly darkening against your skin. You whimpered, weaving your fingers through his hair, which made him flinch, his hand on the other side of your thigh tightening, nails digging into skin. 

He hooked a finger around the waistband of your underwear, dragging it down painfully slow. You gulped, shaking as he positioned himself in between your legs. 

“I haven’t done this in a while,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “So,” he let out a short breath. “Might be a bit rusty.”

You hummed understandingly, running your fingers through his hair gently, until you felt his hot, wet tongue on your entrance. You flinched at the sudden contact, jerking your hips but his hands slid up and pinned you down. 

“Hush,” he muttered, mouth pressed against your core, the vibration from his low voice sending waves into your body. You clamped your hand over your mouth as his tongue drew circles across your clit, and you felt your muscles involuntary clench and your legs draw together.

Lucifer grunted, pressing his palms on the inner side of your legs and pushing you legs apart again, hands gripping your thighs in place as he flicked his tongue, causing you to spasm again and whimper. You were dripping- you could feel it, your own arousal mixing with his saliva, coating your skin. 

He looked up, hair mussed, and his nails momentarily dug into your skin. “Take your hand off of your mouth,” he hissed, and you did so, gulping. “I want to hear you.”

And with that he delved in again, one hand abandoning your thigh and pushing apart your folds, thrusting his tongue in, and you bucked your hips again feeling the pleasure shoot through you. A light moan escaped your lips as he inserted a finger.

“My name,” he muttered, as you clawed at his hair for something to ground you. The vibrations trembled against you again, making you whimper.

“Lucifer,” you gasped, as his finger curled inside you. He began to pump it in and out, painfully slow, taking his time as he continued giving you the same attention with his tongue. 

“Again.”

“Lucifer,” you moaned, although it sounded like a plea as you threw your head back as his palm dug against your hip to make you stop squirming. Another finger in, coiling inside you with a deft flick as you let out another moan from the shooting pleasure, gasping for air. You bucked your hips towards him again, silently begging for more stimulus, and he chuckled at your desperation. “Fuck.”

His tongue swirled over your clit again, quick as lighting, and if you weren’t in such a state you would have felt the initials he had traced: LM.

Tremors racked your body, until you felt a white-hot pleasure sear through you, as if every tense muscle in your body had unraveled at once. Lucifer immediately pushed himself up and onto you as you came, pinning you onto the bed and crashing his lips against yours. You could taste yourself on him, and he knew it- his other finger still touched you, seeing you through the orgasm. 

You felt him whisper sweet nothings, his breath on your lips as he pulled away for air before diving in again. And then it was over. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, feeling Lucifer slump next to you and throw his arm across you. You turned, and noticed he wasn’t tired. He was grinning at you, waiting for you to say something. “Good?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words formed, so simply nodded. For a moment he looked worried, until you pushed yourself up, towards him, your words whispered for only him to ear.

“Again. Please.” 

♱♱♱

Another orgasm tore through your body, and you could barely even hear the moaned words that fell from your lips as you fell back on the bed, or hear Lucifer’s amused chuckle as he got up and pressed kisses down your collarbone and jaw, on top of the already-made collection of bite marks and bruises staining your skin. 

You shuddered as he lay back down next to you again, burying his face in your shoulder. You could feel his smirk against your skin. “Already tired?”

You inwardly rolled your eyes. You’d lost count of how many times he’d made you come- everything blurred together after a while. His arm circled across your waist, and then he pushed himself up so he could hover over you. 

“What?” You muttered, face burning. 

“It’s nice to see you like this.”

“Like what?”

“You know.” He leaned forward, whispering, his breath ghosting across the shell of your ear. “You’re always so put together. It’s nice to see you come undone so easily, because of me.” He pressed a light kiss to the shell of your ear, making you shiver. 

You pressed your hand against his chest. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” He winked and kissed you again, quickly. “You can pay me back next time.”

You pulled him in for another quick kiss.

“I will,” you promised.

♱♱♱

A/N: Hi guys! Just noticed that the hyperlinks to the Masterlist and the links on the Masterlist to the teasers and chapters don’t work anymore. And I’m too tired to renew them, so, if you can’t find the rest of my chapters or can’t be bothered to comb through my blog, go to the first tag on this post, and it should have all the chapters and teasers since I’ve placed the exact same unique tag on them.

Taglist: @boredlime, @ica1, @tremendoushearttaco, @sweetadonisbutbetter, @lucky-flowey,@kitty-kei, @thornwolfy235, @w31rd3rg1rl, @marxo5, @lvstyangel, @brainz00, @lukerycyja-reblogs, @dickmastersworld,@everlastprime259-blog, @rain-doll401-blog, @bakugounuggets, @ren-ren23, @mjhehe09,@angelicwillows, @rayyrayysanchez, @luleck, @dellugh-shposts, @rebecca-hvnstn, @l0v3lyx, @ravenswritingroom, @rattyrattyratty, @lovayle, @relatedsoda, @cimadreamer, @valckenaux

[qvnthesia]

in action. (a tbb hunter one-shot)

a hunter/jedi!reader (afab) fic.

the pitch: seeing hunter in action inspired a different flame in you, one that you wanted everything to do with.

a/n: okay look — i know i know i was supposed to update my tvd fic but IT’S HUNTER COME ON this man has captivated my heart my soul my body my legs—*ahem* anyways, i hope you enjoy this fic! dedicated to @/xajnie on tbbtwt, thank you for fuelling the hunter admiration <33 i’ve had to change the plot 4 times — FOUR TIMES (fuck writer's block) — so, once again, i hope you enjoy this fic!

word count: 1, 426

theme/warning: fluff, and references to smut. implied enemies to lovers dynamic. reader is an adrenaline junkie <33 (yes i’m projecting yes i’ve become a whore for this man yes i’m not ashamed) — putting an 18+ warning just to be on the safe side 💗

You were staring.

Here’s the thing—Jedi weren't supposed to stare like that. They were supposed to observe, analyse their environments and maintain peace and harmony accordingly.

Granted, you had spectacularly failed at that mindful endeavour when you had stormed through the Zygerrian stronghold. You cut through hordes of clankers with a brazen and bold strut, freed civilians fleeing behind you for cover as you advanced forward. You supposed your lightsaber would have yielded some ‘yielding’ results from the enemy, but your master’s warning about your thrill-seeking tendencies rang in your brain, and you were too late. Now enslaved to the cruel species, you didn't have much of a leeway, much to your amused chagrin, with a shock collar saddled around your neck, sharp electric cords having forced you on your knees with your bound wrists lying between your legs.

Now, however, you weren't regretting being bound at all.

There was a reason the clones had more advantages than the Separatists. They were men, they were alive, they were people who had thoughts and dreams of their own. Every trooper you had been graced with the privilege of serving alongside with had their own quirks, distinguished by their own art, moral and valour.

The sargeant was more.

As the de-facto commanding officer of the Bad Batch, Hunter had had his initial doubts about you. He was a man who wasn't used to deferring his leadership, especially not to someone who had gone from Captain to Commander to General within a span of months. But you were a Jedi, and he never voiced his doubts even though you could still feel the bitter edges of his annoyance and his purposefully positioned distance reduced to nothing but professionalism and workplace discipline.

You thought that being a Jedi, you’d stick to the military civility and get the job done.

But the Sargeant made it hard to be a stickler for the rules.

You centered yourself in the Force, ignoring the deep tug from your pulsing womanhood as Hunter battled a horde of Zygerrian slavers, hand-to-hand.

This wasn't the first time you’d watched him fight. Sure, he fought for the good of the Republic, but you’d be lying if you said watching him kick ass wasn't a scrumptious treat for your sore eyes.

Aside from the clankers begging for mercy, he spared none as he sank his knife into the droids. His pauldrons strained against his biceps as he wrapped his arms around the commando ones until their circuitry sparked and fizzled into haphazard disassembly. There were moments where it was just comfortable silence, you working on your lightsaber again while he kept twirling his knife until he sheathed it under his forearms and got up to receive the latest mission briefing. Your veins always swam with his every move, your gaze drinking every smug tug of his chapped lips as he gave a two-fingered salute and decimated battalions, his fingers curling in the exact way you’d imagined him inside you.

It was as if the war suddenly ceased to matter, your Code rendered obsolete within a span of seconds as he brgan filling your thoughts. His breath mixing with yours, fingers tangled in his hair, all resistance forgotten, his skin on yours, bodies joined, his light inside you, rendering you delirious and needy with pleasure. His smoky voice filling your ears with the filthiest of murmurs as he claimed every inch of you, gazing down upon you with a dark, heavy-lidded stare that he’d directed at you whenever he disagreed with you and your near-suicidal yet successful strategies.

You’d committed his every move to your memory. It wasn't hard to forget, being sensitive to everything down to the molecules around.

It was then you sensed it, panic flooding your limbs as a yellow whip cracked the air.

“HUNTER—”

Your warning died, lips parting in sharp, rippling surprise as the whip curled around Hunter’s arm. The electricity travelled up his body, and you struggled against the bonds, being hit with electricity tailored to make you kneel.

That’s when you heard it. A low growl. The strangled primal voice ripping out of Hunter’s throat as he stood up on his two feet. Your mind practically exploded as you stared openly, mental shields frayed from something between pain and admiration, the kind inspired by a promise of the forever you’d sworn not to chase.

Gripping the blazing whip, Hunter yanked the Zygerrian man towards him, stopping an imminent collision as he bent the slaver’s wrists with a painful wrench and delivered a sharp kick to his chest, careening the scum across the dark bridge of the facility until his body collided with the console and fell to the floor with a useless crumple.

You let out an exhale, relieved. Your legs were trembling from the exertion employed from resisting being beaten into submission. But you stood up on your two feet, shaky.

“Right on time, huh?”

You met his helmet, stark, and sighed again.

“Okay, I know you're mad and yes, I should’ve take the offer for backup—”

You’re cut off as his helmet hits the ground with a thud and he makes straight for you. Before you can say anything, his fingers rip off the collar your neck and undo your restraints.

“Hunter—”

Your confusion muffles into shock as he pulls you towards him and brings your lips into his.

Your heart nearly explodes, its pace picking up as your eyelids instantly droop shut, your palms pressing his chest plate, arms snaking around his neck until your fingers threaded through his dark locks. His fingers grip under your thigh, feet shuffling until he pins you against a wall, his solid body trapping yours under his heat. His mouth slants over yours, and he groans into the kiss as your tongue meets the hot wet of his mouth. Your back digs against his hands as they roamed across the expanse of your robes.

He was so close to you, so unbearably far away with the layers between as you snaked one leg around his waist and his length pressed against you. You arched your back at the contact, flames igniting up your body as you grinded against him, the lines between need and want blurring so intensely between your desires to be one with him and have him stay just like this.

His hands cupped your face and he flinched. Your brows stitched together as he drew back, hurt tautly woven on your face.

Hunter probably sensed your emotions, he always did, always on the lookout for something different, something hopefully not life-threatening. He simply held out a hand now coated with your blood. His eyes roved over to the bleeding gash from the side of your face, and he let out a weary sigh.

“When will you start listening to me?”

“Now where’s the fun in that, Sarge?” you grinned.

“Tsk,” his other hand traced the edge of your jaw until his thumb pressed your lower lip. “Don’t tempt me.”

Your grin grew wider and you let out a breathy laugh, your tongue flicking out to give his thumb a lick. A thrilling shiver ran down your spine, your mind hazy with your victory, once his intense brown-grey eyes refocused on you.

“Call it a favour, Hunter.”

He hummed, “What if I don't see it as a favour, Mesh’la?”

Your smile melted, the fire in your blown-out eyes sparking brighter, your gaze flickering between wonder at the use of that endearing term.

A handful of seconds passed between the two of you, and a smirk tugged at his lips.

Your scent had been on him the entire campaign, driving him into absolute overdrive everytime he watched you cut down enemies with your saber and decimate battalions as if you were cutting through butter and not fighting an intergalactic war. But today, he’d had trouble fighting against those slavers with the thoughts that were running in your head and driving him wild. He’d felt the weight of your gaze on his soul, the curiosity turning into animosity masking your passionate frenzy. And he would be a fucking fool if he didn’t admit not a day went by where he hadn’t thought of doing things to you that turned your bratty self into a whimpering, moaning mess all over him.

He noted your evidently aroused state, the warm blood rushing beneath your skin, and the wetness pooling your trousers.

This was going to take a while, and Hunter wasn't going to waste a single second of finally getting to have some action with you.

thank you so so much for reading! please do point out any grammatical mistakes if there are any. this is the first time i'm writing for hunter so i hope you enjoyed this fic!

if you'd like to be added to the hunter tag list (since i do have a shit ton of fics planned—this man has a chokehold on me as bad as hayden does), drop a comment below! reviews are extremely appreciated 💗✨

this fic has NOT been cross-posted to my ao3. any/all forms of plagiarism will not be tolerated.

[wroteclassicaly]

A/N: I have no excuse for my actions. Just some filth. We can all appreciate how many times we’ve mentally gotten fucked, and fucked Steve in his car. So… I bring you this trash. Enjoy!?

Warnings: Language, smut, squirting, masturbation, vaginal fingering, NSFW, vaginal sex, & dirty talk.

Being so hot, parched, and aching for Steve that you can’t wait to have him until you get home. You slide your panties down your legs, the wetness stringing to the crotch and between your slick thighs — and they hit the floorboard. Raising an arm above your head, you undo several buttons on your dress to expose your bra cup. You hear the leather of the steering wheel creak underneath Steve’s white-knuckled grasp, a sharp inhalation of air coming out as a whistle through his teeth.

“Don’t.” It’s a fair warning, you’d say, but you do not heed it… by any means.

“And what if I d-do?” You sass, stuttering upon a lump of jagged, fragmented whimpers, fingers pressing into your soaking wet cunt.

The car accelerates, Steve’s sneaker briefly jamming into the pedal, before easing up. It makes you grin, head lolling lazily to the side, spreading your thighs a little wider so you have some more room to work with. You’re pretty sure you’ve made a mess on his expensive seats, but that makes you smirk — more than satisfied. His focus tries to remain on the road when you finally drink in his full reaction, however — it’s fleeting. The cinnamon irises have already been reduced to puddles of midnight, taking residence in his glazed over sclera.

He keeps licking at the corner of his mouth, that beauty mark spattered jaw, littered with three day old stubble and your handiwork from an hour ago (you barely let him get the car door unlocked, pushing him against it and tugging him down to lick and suck your way into his baby blue Henley’s collar, teeth finding warm flesh). The radio and roadway treaded beneath heavy tires is all a passing blur, a whirring noise in your ears. In the tiny expanse of your boyfriend’s car all that can be heard now, is mingled and heavy breaths, your fingers adding to the mix with that crude squelch.

“Shit, shit, shit. Fuck.”

You’re smirking as he struggles, the car swaying, skidding across the asphalt. Sinking your teeth into your lower lip, you lick the flesh and stretch your digits out in your dripping cunt, sliding around in your seat. It’s not the easiest, being partially confined underneath your seat belt, but you manage to pick up a steady rhythm to work yourself over with, head dropping to the side completely, and eyes helping themselves to Steve Harrington. Your own personal get off, the best medicine you’ve ever had. He’s mumbling obscenities underneath that quickening breath, but you take control, voice getting louder, lost in lust.

“Jesus Christ, Steve. You’re so fucking hot, just want your cock in my pussy, baby.”

You’re pretty sure he smacks the dash with some part of his hand. But all you focus on is that audible exposure of tendons in his thick neck as he swallows, adam’s apple caught in the gulping breath. You stretch your arm, fingers wiggling, trying to find. You don’t mean to huff but it slips out. That’s when he’s finally speaking, hoarse and winded.

“Crook to the left, honey. S’ where I usually find it.”

Your jaw is agape, lips puckering into a purse as you whimper. “Mhm-hmm.” And you follow his instructions, tilting your fingers until they’re drooling, nudging that spot in the barest of grazes. It’s not near what he does, yet it’s enough.

You shouldn’t be as caught off guard, having been worked up all night beyond human belief. Yet, as the burning twists your gut and smacks you between your legs, pooling in your clit — that familiar liquid squirts from your cunt and rains across the seat below, some hitting the dash in front of you. You whine so loud that your ears burn and you arch into the seat until it hurts, thighs trembling and slick. You can barely keep your blown pupils on Steve’s, tears gathering at your lash line, body humming with static elation. Yep, seat belts do save lives, you realize, as Steve hits the breaks and jerks the wheel to steer the car off onto the graveled shoulder, your belt smashing your breasts.

There’s noises that are coming from him that you aren’t sure you’ve heard before. A desperate beast that’s cornered its prey, ready to feast and pounce. He shifts the gear and clicks his own safety belt, hand reaching down to yank the seat lever, balls of his feet shoving himself back a distance. He’s making room for you. You just get your harness off and he’s grabbing you by your neck’s nape, yanking you across the console and into his lap, one hand working his belt open.

Your panties — clinging to one ankle — fall off, and his hand moves from your neck to your hip, helping you hold your dress out of the way. He’s rock hard when you sneak a look into his lap. It makes you shake in anticipation, growing impatient. It’s a little more shifting, Steve getting his jeans with your eager hands assisting, rising to pull them and his underwear underneath the swell of that perfect ass and down around his knees. His heavy cock slaps against his stomach, immediately soaking his shirt with that creamy bead, his balls full and waiting on either side. You’re a damned drooling bimbo, wasted on the sight.

“Yeah. Look at you lookin’ at me like that, honey. You want this, don’t you?” He’s cocky, emphasizing by peeling his shaft away from the fabric, it gravitating automatically towards your swollen folds.

“Please, Steve… gotta have it. I don’t care if it hurts, I don’t care how. Just give it to me before I lose my fucking mind.”

“Dirty bitch, huh? It’s that kinda night.” His pearly whites bare themselves, a light laugh dipping off those perfect, pillowy lips.

You’re struggling not to take him without waiting for the word. It’s not needed, but it’s what you want right now. You need him to beg you to split yourself open. It’s more necessary than your current pathetic attempts at oxygen.

“Don’t you want to feel how wet I am from squirting all over your car, Stevie?”

It’s hard to see the evidence you’ll have to clean, only street lights making you and Steve visible to one another, but he’s able to catch glimpses of some. And your words have the desired effect. He brings your foreheads together, his tresses tickling your skin, his nose nudging yours. He waits, stroking himself through your seam, taps your clit, then captures your mouth the moment that he sinks inside, your cream pouring out around his base, slicking back the curls that rest there. Taking Steve Harrington’s size is a pain like no other, one that stays no matter how many times you do it. And fuck it if you don’t relish in how in feels deliciously sore for days, afterwards — knowing smirks and giggling whispers following.

Your mouth drops, Steve’s tongue licking in. He tastes like mint gum and orange crush soda. When you break apart, you’ve got one hand that’s gripping his shoulder, his other finding yours and lacing together. “You okay? You alright, baby?” Your knees finally relax into the leather seat on either side of his trim waist and you sigh, dropping your face down into the curvature of his neck and shoulder. He lets go of his cock, knuckles soaked in you, and brings them up to rub around your back, enjoying how you mewl and relax into his continued touch.

You’re both trembling, Steve’s hairy thighs resting against your ass, his heavy balls there too. It takes a lot of inner strength in him not to pound you into the steering wheel and pump you full of his release, but he manages. Your walls are fucking flooded, so much so that he’s surprised he doesn’t slip back out. He helps you rear back from your cocoon and he kisses the tip of your nose, a lazy smirk leaving behind a darkened gaze. You nod that you’re alright and he doesn’t waste a second, both hands finding your bra cups and ripping them down, your tits bouncing out and into his eye-line.

“Mine.” He buries his face in between, an action that causes you to tilt back and moan, throat exposed for his dirty whims.

He paths kisses up your sternum and litters your jawline, before letting his nose rest back in the crevice of your cleavage. He slaps your bare ass, and mumbles into your globed flesh. “Take what you want.”

// eat me paragraph //

[mamayan]

YANDERE SHIGARAKI TOMURA X DARLING

⚠️ MDNI•NSFW•18+•Dark Content ⚠️

Specific warnings: Implied kidnapping, x reader, yandere themes, assault, non-con, forced dub-con, afab! darling, vaginal penetration, oral (m! Receiving), anal, degradation, humiliation, abuse, mean Tomura, seriously this is fucking dark and sad but I’m writing as realistically as I can, Tomura is mentally ill, don’t read if you usually prefer fluff, angst

Synopsis: Oh how this man claims to be so much more, but he’s just a desensitized gaming addict and the only real murder he’s committed is dusting. He never really took a person apart until they begged for death… until you.

“FUCK!” The scream echoed off the walls of the dark room. He threw the game controller to the ground, his hands digging into his hair and pulling at the greasy blue strands. When he wasn’t done whining after a minute, you prepared yourself mentally.

Just as predicted, within a few moments after his cursing and game rage died down, blood shot red eyes flicked over to you.

You. Chained up like a dog to the bed post, curled in on yourself on the floor by the nightstand. It didn’t matter how small you made yourself, how low you bowed and bent. You were seen as a patronizing civilian that worshiped heroes and licked the hypocrisy they spewed right off the ground they walked. Begging irritated him, pleas for mercy usually resulted in more injury and pain, so you stayed silent and still. Your lip had barely healed enough that it wasn’t agonizing to drink or eat, and you didn’t feel like having the wound reopened.

He’d lost for the nth time already. This level harder than the last few he’d easily conquered but none of it truly mattered except surviving another night. You counted in your mind as he sauntered over to you, sneering down at your sorry, dirty, naked figure. He hadn’t allowed you a shower or bath in over a week, so you were caked in your own sweat, blood, and his semen. He liked painting you, marking you with cuts and bruises shaped like his hands. His hands he could place on you fully and you wouldn’t disintegrate. Your useless quirk suddenly the reason you’ve entered this unending nightmare.

1…2…3…4…5

Fingers dug into the flesh of your upper arm, yanking you onto unsteady feet and shaking legs. He pulled you to his level, vitriol soaking his words, “You think it’s funny don’t you? Fucking whore, are you mocking me?” It was a rhetorical question, but he reacted as if he really wanted an answer. His free hand moved to wrap around your neck, cutting off air as he bared his teeth and yelled at you, “FUCKING ANSWER ME!”

“No!” You were forced to answer, but it was never a game you could win with whatever words left your lips. He pushed you towards the bed, his thin figure oddly powerful as you tripped over your own feet and landed only halfway on the mattress. You’d been starved of any actual nutrients from his snack binges, though you were aware his own meals were prepared by a man named Kurogiri. It left you weak and lethargic, unable to really fight back, and now it seems more serious issues were arising as your legs didn’t quit support you anymore.

You could only try and calm your breathing as you heard him unbutton his pants. The scent of his bed a mild distraction for what was to come as you let your mind drift. The man, Kurogiri, washed his sheets weekly, his comforter biweekly, and did some sort of mattress vacuuming and deep clean. The mist covered man never spoke to you, never even acknowledged you existed. Your own existence seemingly reduced to… this.

Nails dug into your scalp and you could only whine in pain as the chain connected to your collar was used to yank you up further onto the bed where he wanted you. Compliance wasn’t the best thing to do, it was the only thing to do. You either did it yourself or he did it for you, and it would hurt exponentially more if he did it. “You must think I’m a loser huh? Some pathetic nobody. Let me make something clear,” his breath smelled like sugar and chemicals from his energy drink, “The only pathetic loser here is you.”

You were grateful when he shoved your face into the mattress. Grateful he couldn’t see the tears leak from your half opened distance gaze as you stared at the television screen he’d abandoned. He was right, you were the pathetic loser here. The screen was on the starting page, an armored warrior decked out in all of Tomura’s favorite equips…just… hovering.

The sounds of fabric rustling caught you attention, and you did your best to relax when you felt cool wet fingers messily prod your entrance. You stayed still when he moved completely, likely dropping down to spread your ass so he could spit directly onto your cunt. He wasn’t really speaking to you as he muttered out a mild “dumb whore” before shoving his half hard cock inside of you. It stung, his hips trying to shove himself into a dry channel with grunted effort. His hand came down next to your face, blocking to view of the tv as you grit your teeth remain silent. It didn’t matter if you screamed or wailed, he got off on it even more, so why give him the satisfaction? You clenched the bed sheets between your fingers and could only hope he’d be done soon.

How wrong you’d be though.

Tomura seemingly had something to prove tonight. He kept muttering beneath his breath about something called a “Nomu” and “Fucking Stain” but you really couldn’t understand too much. Only that he was clearly taking whatever frustrations those caused out on you.

Despite your best efforts, all your willpower, you body betrayed you like it always did. Slick wet his passage and soon he was hammering into you with fervor and it only made you sick inside because a small part of it all felt good. Horrendously good, and with each passing day, you internally began craving any interaction. Even if it was like this. Detached or full of hatred which burned so much hotter than your own despite being the victim. “Fuck- tight, relax!” he huffed loudly, his moan not matching his words before his hand connected with your ass and a yelp ripped from your lips finally.

He laughed, forcing you up the bed further to hike your hips up and force your head down to fuck even deeper into you. Your own juices making the sounds so much more erotic as his hips smashed into you, forcing each inch of him inside. You could only cry and bite back the noises struggling to come out, the pleasure becoming a little too strong as a war began inside of you. You didn’t want to give this monster the satisfaction but your body was begging for release.

You could resume your count, hoping it distracted you long enough for him to finish first.

6…7…8…9…

“What’s wrong huh? Not gonna scream for your heroes tonight?” His palm connecting with your ass didn’t register right away, but the next one did. You could only whimper and whine, still intent on keeping your noises minimal.

10….11….12….13….

“Fuck you get tighter every time I spank you. Do you like getting fucked by a disgusting villain? Who’d even fucking want you now that I’ve had you?” His tip kept nailing just the tip of your cervix and it was making stars dance in your vision. His nasty words no longer really registering. “You don’t know pain, not really. You think being immune to my quirk makes you special?” Only tiny choked sobs and the noises of him railed you into the mattress answered him.

What number were you on again? 10?

“I’m gonna fill this pussy- fuck!” You wanted to crawl away from it all but he had you pinned. You couldn’t remember the numbers or even your name really. You did know you were going to come if he didn’t stop. “Please-!” You hated it, the way he made you feel. So weak and pathetic, and he wasn’t even trying to make you feel good. You didn’t want to come, you didn’t want any of this. Your heart was beating so loudly in your ears, you could hardly hear anything anymore. You didn’t even realize the noises now coming from your throat sounded like pure ecstasy.

Tomura even slowed down momentarily, stunned by the lewd moans and cries you were making, and then how wet you were despite everything. It drove him wild.

His hips slammed into you, both hands now digging into your hips and all you could do was take it. Each thrust was met with him yanking you back onto his swollen cock, you could even feel it beginning to throb inside of you.

You broke for the first time as your orgasm washed over you, reducing you to a shaking whiny mess. Your twitching and tightening walls had Tomura following right behind you, moaning into your back as he filled you up.

You both stayed quiet for a moment, panting and struggling to regroup your minds. For just a second, you closed your eyes and pretend it was different. That you were just as your boyfriend’s house playing video games and it led to passionate sex. That it wasn’t a psychopathic villain that just fucked you senseless. Maybe he was pretending you were as fucked up as he was. Maybe you were if this is where you are now.

He pulled out slowly, his breathing still slightly ragged but he’s mostly recovered now unlike you.

The sight of you on his bed like this, limp and leaking his cum from your cunt, had him hard all over again. It was easy to just manhandle you to laying with your face near the edge of the bed on your side, where he could present his cock in front of your face.

“Open up slut, I’ve got your favorite thing right here.” His snarky comment and snicker ignored as you opened your mouth, letting him stuff his cock inside as you struggled not to gag and choke. He needed to shower. So did you. Sadly, Tomura wasn’t a man that liked waiting or had any patience. His hand settled behind your head, and then his hips moved. He cared little if you choked on his cock, the thick appendage sinking into your throat and making you cry for all new reasons. You could only be grateful he seemed to want to enjoy this blow job, hips moving leisurely and just slow enough you could still breathe. He was murmuring nonsense, and you did your best to suck and take all of him the best you could to ensure this night didn’t end as a new nightmare. For a moment, you really thought it wouldn’t, but when he hit too deep and you gagged and pulled away…

It enraged him. “Bitch!”

A sharp noise echoed, and it took a moment for the blinding pain that seared the side of your face to process with your mind as a slap. The next side followed, as you cried out and tried to raise your hands to prevent worsening damage.

It didn’t matter. You could already taste blood and acknowledge your lip was probably worse off than it began. This was the thing about Tomura, it was like he could sense your relief. He was a predator that preyed on all things comfort or joy. “Did you just try to bite me? STOP CRYING!” His hands shot out to wrap around your neck, yanking you up and cutting off all air as you had a short panicked moment to stare into his eyes.

He looked unhinged.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? You’re mine, my fucking toy, and if I want to make you die choking on my dick you should be grateful.” He’s out of his mind, but then again you knew that already. The edges of your vision darkened due to the lack of oxygen and you briefly wondered if this was how you really died.

You also briefly wanted to.

Unfortunately he didn’t seem done with you yet, when he forced you off the bed and let you drop to the floor to gasp like a fish out of water. Choking down air greedily before shrieking in pain as the same air was knocked from your lungs. His foot connecting with your stomach had you reeling, no liquids or food to throw up so it left you dry heaving and curling in on yourself.

“Shut up! It’s your fault! This is all your fault! Why’d you get to have a nullifying quirk, huh? What makes you so fucking great? Nothing! I can still kill you!” His hands pressing you down to the floor, shoving you on your back as you dizzily looked up at the man torturing you.

You hated him. Hated all of him. Hated how violent he was. How he never asked for anything, just took it. Hated how spoiled he acted. Hated how even now, you felt a small piece of you pity this monster, as tears streamed down his face. Despite his eyes being locked on you, he wasn’t looking at you. He was seeing someone else, and the grief in his eyes was real and you hated that there were pieces of him that were human.

He spread your legs easily, your body too weak to fight back. He was shaking, even as one finger dipped inside you, his free hand was scratching violently at his neck until blood began to pour. It’s oddly like he’s trying to match your pain, or he needs pain in general to get off somehow. He used your own combined fluids to lubricate your other hole, dipping a finger in even despite your whine of protest. At least he was lubricating you this time. Small mercies.

When he pressed into your ass, the stretch and burn had you wanting to vomit again. It just amplified the rest of the pain in your body. You let the tears flow this time, still outmatched by his own. His face screwed up in a grimace because this must not be pleasant for him either. His eyes wide and still crying, as he struggles to move inside you due to the tightness. His teeth were grit and bared and you wanted to ask why he was doing all this.

Time seemed to slow down as only your grunts of pain and his of pleasure were exchanged. Your cunt leaking and and neglected as your ass finally relaxed enough to take more than half of him in at once. His thrusts were short and jerky, and he’d placed a hand around your throat for balance more than anything. The other rested on your hip, his eyes locked to where you were joined. For a sadistic psycho, he didn’t look at your face much when he was like this.

Eventually you went numb.

You didn’t feel like seeing his agonizing expression just like he didn’t really like seeing yours. Your head turned, staring at the only light source this dark room ever had, the television. You let your mind wander, trying to think of what would defeat the next boss Tomura kept struggling to defeat.

You flinched when you felt a tickle across your bare chest. Blue strands grazing your chest and collar bone as Tomura leaned his face down close to your own.

He wasn’t crying anymore. If anything, he looked apathetic.

You didn’t know your expression matched his perfectly.

You felt his pace increase, the hand around your throat tightening and something inside you knew. The way he looked down on you seemed to have some sort of resolve. Your hands moved slowly to wrap around his wrist, a strange contrast and his brows furrowed in confusion. His cock dragged inside you, the earlier pain replaced by an odd sensation you couldn’t say you disliked or liked either. You were full in different way.

“What are you-?”

“Kill me.” His eyes widened ever so slightly.

His hips stilling.

You could only lick your chapped and bleeding lips, as silence seemed to eat away at the room.

“Please… kill me.” You didn’t feel the tears flowing down your cheeks, or the warmth of his body on top of you, or much of anything but the cold anymore. You were freezing. You’re seemingly always cold and a deep rooted exhaustion had taken hold of you.

“What are…?” He looked disgusted for a moment, his eyes becoming wider as he pulled out of you and shuffled away.

You didn’t move.

“Kill me…” it was so faint he hardly heard it.

Tomura stood, an odd conflict inside him as he stared down at you. Sweet perfect you, except you didn’t really look like you used to, and he was feeling nauseous as your words echoed in his head.

Kill me

He’d asked that once before.

He scrambled to his feet, his erection gone and strangely so was his earlier dilemma. He’d been struggling to find his solution, to get rid of you like Master wanted or to not.

His eyes took in the sight of you again and an emotion he can’t stand fills him.

Guilt.

He’s a villain. He shouldn’t feel guilt or shame. Why did he feel sick then? When you asked the same thing he asked?

Did you see him as he saw Father?

He stumbled clumsily into the bathroom just in time to empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

He needed air.

He returned nearly 12 hours later, showering in a different bathroom than the one attached to his room, in fresh clothes. His tv still on the home screen of his game left abandoned now. His bed still messy and empty.

You still where he left you. Curled up and in on yourself. His chest constricted but he forced down the rising bile with a mission in mind.

His eyes tracked the thin chain that kept you in the room, in his palm the key which would release that. His skin itched but he ignored it in favor of walking around you and towards the lock on the bed. Once it was unsecured, he had no choice but to move towards you now.

His hands shook as he moved to reach out and touch you. Your skin clammy and cold. He unlocked and removed the collar from your throat.

“Kurogiri… can you get her into the bath?”

“Yes.”

It was simple enough, the task of washing you. It was like cleaning a real toy, except he got to look at all the damage he’d done. You were awake, sort of, but limp and weak as he cleaned you as gently as he could. He flinched when you did as he washed over your cuts and bruises, bite marks, and your intimates. It took a few washes before he felt satisfied. Once he’d dried you with a towel, Kurogiri gracefully settled you into Tomura’s freshly cleaned and made bed. You didn’t talk, not even a noise, as he wrapped you up in the blankets and pulled you into his arms.

You didn’t speak as he cried and held onto you, whispering to you things he doubted you really could hear.

“I don’t hate you” an ironic statement for him, but he doesn’t. He never hated you. He envied you. He wanted you. He wanted you to understand him. He wanted anyone that could understand him.

You fell asleep like that, warm for the first time in months.

Author Notes:

Tell me your thoughts, I need constructive criticism on my writing flow and patterns! I didn’t edit this cuz I’m lazy and I can’t find my glasses.

I’m planning a part two cuz Shiggy does redeem himself, mostly.

What’s scarier than a yandere that doesn’t know what they feel for you is love? He’s an immature young man trying to overthrow the government and all of societal views and norms. Of course he’s gonna sick, violent, depraved.

We love character development even in our villain★彡 The LOV gives him that, and in return, Darling starts to benefit (depending on how you look at it lol).

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Kinktober Day 5 (Collaring)

BTAA Scarecrow x Reader (NSFW)

(1,522 Words)

Summary: There’s a kill collar around your neck

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, tied to a chair, collaring, fear play, a little bit of psychoanalysis, light knife play, dom/sub dynamic

Notes: Ok, now this one was just TOO FUN to write LMAO, u can read this as a continuation to this or as a stand alone, either way, enjoy the fic!!!

-

An abrupt chill dances up your neck, waking you to your surroundings. Eyes opening groggily, you awaken to thick, rough twine digging into your wrists and ankles, keeping you tied to the arms and legs of a wooden chair.

You try to look around, but you feel something heavy and metal around your neck. It’s when you hear the beeping of a heart monitor when you realize exactly what it is.

“Good morning, sunshine.” You look up in front of you to see the Scarecrow, leaning his hands back on the table behind him, standing with his leg crossed casually. His voice is his usual brand of eerily cheerful. Amusing, but terrifying to be on the other end of, as you have seen by working for him for a while, but unfortunately, you weren’t so lucky this time.

The collar begins to beep slightly faster, hardly noticeable, but your boss, Scarecrow- Dr. Jonathan Crane, he seems to pick up on your nerves easily. Behind his raggedy, burlap mask, you can see the stirrings of morbid excitement as he cocks his head playfully.

“No need to be nervous,” He says nonchalantly. He leans back further, sitting on the table. “You know the drill by now.”

You begin to wonder what you could’ve possibly done to end up to be the next victim of one of the Scarecrow’s infamous kill collars. “I’m going to die, aren’t I?” You ask bluntly.

“Oh! Right to the point,” he chuckles. “Well,” he clears his throat, “It all depends on you- Don’t get scared, and you get to keep your head.”

You roll your eyes, hearing his spiel dozens of times already. “Yeah, yeah- Got it, like you said, I know the drill.”

The Scarecrow gets up, stalking ever so close to you. You feel his cold hand find its way under your chin, tilting up your head to look deep into his gaze. You’ve seen him do this several times, you know this is just an intimidation tactic to toy with his victims.

“So what did it?” You begin, unfazed by his potent glare. “Was it the fact that I knew too much about what was really going on here? Or was it when I reduced you to nothing but a quivering mess when I caught you fucking yourself to the thought of me?”

He lets out a low chuckle, placing a hand on your shoulder, circling around you menacingly. “You could say that.”

“To which one?”

“Oh, I don’t think it really matters too much,” he stops behind you, “…What matters…” You feel your feet come off the floor as he tilts back the chair, “…Is that we need to make an example out of you,” he darkly murmurs in your ear. You let out an involuntary yelp as the chair is suddenly pushed forward.

The kill collar starts to beep slightly quicker now, but it was getting harder to tell if your heart was picking up due to fear, or arousal. Either way, you refuse to let whatever emotions you’re currently feeling be the death of you. Taking a deep breath, you attempt to stabilize your breathing, which the Scarecrow notes aloud.

“Breathing techniques, huh? You must’ve been paying attention to all those times you’ve seen me collar someone. Why? Did you see yourself ending up in a situation like this? Did you try to prepare just in case you did?”

“I learned from the best,” you sigh sarcastically.

“Aw,” he chuckles, “You know, complimenting me won’t get you out of this…” Crane fishes around the inner pocket of his jacket. He makes his way around you once again as the glint of his switchblade is caught in your peripheral vision. “Now answer the question,” The blade is held directly to your chest. “Please.”

“Alright,” You gulp, the beeping of the collar stays consistent. “Yeah, I did think this is how things would end, but you know what?”

“What is it, little lamb?”

“The fact that you have me here, like this, means that I’ve gotten close.”

Crane leans over the back of the chair, cocking his head to meet your eyes. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“I learned some real nasty secrets about your experiments with using JoyCure, an unauthorized drug, on your patients,” you explain, “and, I had you completely spineless for me, the fact that you have me collared here, means you’re afraid. You’re afraid that I know too much about you, criminally and personally, so you have me here to not only kill me, but to kill the fear of knowing about the leverage I have on you.”

You look him dead in the eyes as you make your case, showing him that you are not afraid and refuse to be afraid, no matter how much he tries to make you believe it. You almost forget he still has the blade to your chest until you feel the cold metal trail down and eventually off your flesh.

A low, bubbling, snicker sounds in the warehouse. “My, my,” whispers Crane, awestruck. He toys with the switchblade, fiddling with it in his hands. “Now look who’s playing psychiatrist.” His low snicker erupts into an uproarious laugh, like a hyena. “Oh wow, that is an interesting theory to say the least, and you do make a very promising point,” his voice is directly behind you now. “I can see how you’re trying to flip the dynamic here, thinking you have some control, but unfortunately…” his hands find their way to your shoulders, pinning you to the back of the chair. You hear a sadistic hiss in your ear. “…You’re wrong.”

The air of his breath tickles the side of your neck. Hearing the flick of the switchblade snapping open, the knife is held to your chest once again. However, the knife continues to slide down your uniform- a simple jumpsuit to protect yourself from any chemicals from his fear toxin that may be lingering around the warehouse. The fabric tears and you are left vulnerable, opened up with your underwear exposed. You don’t say a word, but the collar’s heart monitor audibly speeds up.

“There it is…” he whirls around, admiring your exposed flesh- your exposed emotions. “There’s that fear I’ve been so longing to see.” Behind his mask, you could tell he was grinning sadistically. Attempting to keep standing your ground, you keep your head held high as the Scarecrow prowls over to you. “Or, wait a second… maybe, it’s not fear.”

Oh shit.

“Hmmm,” he ponders aloud, “it’s very hard to tell with you.” He claps his hands, throwing his head back. “Well!” his head comes back, the eyes behind his mask eye you up carnally. “There’s always solutions that we can test to distinguish which response is which.” At this point, he’s doing it just to mess with you. Prowling behind the chair, he leans forward, directly to your ear. “…I am a man of science, you know.”

His cold hand drops to your chest. He feels up every inch of your exposed body. Shuddering, his fingers find their way to your undershirt, sliding between the fabric and teasing your nipples. A restrained moan exits your mouth as lightly pinches them.

“Interesting response,” he purrs “someone who is feeling fear wouldn’t have that reaction, so obviously, you’re feeling frustrated…” He lets go of your nipples, flicking his thumb over them. “…Sexually.” You hardly notice that the collar’s beeping sounds faster this time.

“It’s fascinating,” he continues “how fear and arousal are so similar.” His hands finally make their way to your inner thighs, caressing them, teasing. “Heavy breathing…” He drags his hand across your underwear. “Adrenaline, pumping…” His hand finally slips into your underwear, you jump when he finally glides his fingers over your sex, “…Heart, racing.” The beeping of the kill collar continues to ring out.

Gathering the arousal that drips out of your aching sex, Crane applies more pressure and friction against the spot that makes you squirm. He fucks you with his skilled fingers. You breathe out amorously, not giving a shit about the kill collar, which rapidly increases in its beeping, sealing your fate as you come violently.

When you come down from your euphoric high, you realize your head is still on your body. You’re alive. Breathing heavily, you turn your head as best you can, confused, facing the deranged psychiatrist, who lets out an amused chuckle.

“Oh yeah, forgot to mention,” Crane makes his way over back to the table, leaning back casually, soaking in your disheveled state. “That kill collar? It’s a fake.”

Flicking open the switchblade, Jonathan makes his way over to you, using it to unscrew the heavy, metal collar which unclamps from your neck immediately. You feel the sweet relief of being able to move your neck once again, only for the Scarecrow to take your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him.

His eyes bore into yours deeply. “I needed you to know how easily I can make you squirm.” His voice drips with sadistic venom. “This was just to show you who really has control here.”

[mariademetal]

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆ inertia fushiguro megumi / gn!reader ©mariademetal 2024

cw ... codependency, description of a stab wound but no actual stabbing/violence, situationship (😭), megs is an asshole, reader is a little pathetic icl, description of anxiety?? idk what else, lmk if i should add anything note ... OOC MEGUMI. this characterization is sooooo bad don't even come for me i made him soooo much crueler than he actually is but i've been in such an angsty mood i can't bring myself to care this is suchhhh a weird little oneshot but i wanted to write for megumi and had so many ideas and they just all kinda merged into this frankenstein freakazoid fic.... kinda despise it but still had fun writing it :p hope u like itttt word count ... 2.4k

The first law of motion: an object in motion stays in motion. For as long as you've known him, Megumi has been running from one thing or another. He likes it, you think— he likes the feeling of his lungs burning, he likes the feeling of waking up sore, he likes the feeling of pressing down onto his bruises and more than anything he likes it when you do it.

Likewise, for as long as you've known him, he's never slowed down to let you catch up. You don't think he's given anyone an inch in his life, and you can't help but think that it's okay, it's fine, because it's him.

You don't like his friends. You're kept away from them at school, tucked away in the corner they keep for the students without innate techniques, out of sight and out of mind. They're rowdy, they yell, they tug, and most importantly, they take up the attention that Megumi once solely focused on you. You're sure as hell they don't like you, either— you're not a part of their world, not really, and you have no doubt that the way you cling to Megumi whenever you all go out together, determined to make yourself as small as possible, hide behind Megumi until he saves you, makes them just as uncomfortable around you as you are around them.

You don't like his friends, they sure as shit don't adore you, but every time Megumi comes around and you're resolute that this time you're going to stay behind, get some alone time with him, you still end up walking out with him, hand in his, tail between your legs.

He just gives you that look. He doesn't even need to say anything— his lips purse, the corner of his lips quirk down, his eyebrows furrow, and the disappointment in his eyes is so palpable you think you can feel it burrowing under your skin. That's all it takes for your resolution to be all but reduced to dust.

When you concede, murmur a "Fine, I'll go," and reach for your coat, the disappointment on his face has disappeared and the faintest hint of a smile has replaced it. He rubs your arm while he leads you to your door and, just comfortable enough behind closed doors to show you the affection he thinks you deserve as a reward for doing what he wants. His hand feels more like a prong collar tugging at your neck, ready to choke you if you dare to turn tail.

It falls to your own hand while the two of you walk, and where you'd prefer to take your time on the way to everyone else, to prepare yourself for another evening of judgmental glances and keeping to yourself, to get just a few more minutes alone with Megumi before you're forced to share him again, but he moves quickly. Your feet hurt before long, and when you stop to take a break, he just lets go of your hand and keeps going.

Naturally, when you eventually meet up with Itadori and Kugisaki and the rest, he acts like he never wanted to see them at all, but you forced your hand— like he's the dog and you're the one pulling his leash, forcing him to socialize with the people you can't stand.

No one seems to believe him, but no one dares accuse him of anything but being a "..softie, deep down."

God, you wish. You wish there was even a single soft spot on his body. He's dipped his entire being in the river Styx, forged a soul from steel far too dense for jujutsu-less you to penetrate, and has never failed to remind you of it (and your own failures by extension). You wish he would give you the opportunity to massage his shoulders until the knots in his muscles could loosen, you wish you could wash his hair for him so it would finally lay flat, you wish he wouldn't train so much so the blisters his knuckle pads could have the opportunity to fade away. You wish more than anything he would just surrender, let you take care of him, and he knows this, so he taxes extra care to keep you just far enough away to make damn sure you don't, and just close enough to keep you from leaving him.

You need him. This is something you both know. It's never been in question. You've needed him since you were both little, to protect you from the world and the creatures you could both see but only he could fight against. And he needed you too, for a good, few years. He was too mean, too quick to snap at the unfamiliar to make any other friends, and you would've sooner died than give him the impression that he is anything other than the most important person in your life.

Then, he stopped needing you. He settled, trained, made friends. Found his purpose. Yet, he keeps you around— drags you over from the other side of campus just to relish in the way you wrap yourself around his arm while he talks with his friends, the same way you did when he'd send his dogs to kill all the cursed spirits that dared to scare you when you were little. He relishes in protecting you from a situation he has inflicted onto you. But he doesn't need you.

So, one day, you ask him why he bothers keeping you around.

"What're you talking about?" He huffs. He's busy sharpening your only knife after trying and failing to peel an apple for the two of you to share— he's always busy, but you've caught him with an injury while all his peers are healthy, so at least you have a moment alone with him.

"You know what I'm talking about," You insist with a pout, and he just looks back at you with a deadpan. "You don't have to see me if you don't go out of your way to. Gojo keeps us apart for that exact reason. Why do you?"

He's silent, for a while. Just long enough that you think he's opted to ignore you. Only then does he speak. "I'm not ignoring you. I just don't really know what you're getting at."

"I don't want to have to explain how I feel to you like you're five."

"Then don't."

You think it would hurt less if he took the knife he's sharpening and stuck it into your heart. Your eyes burn, and you swallow your saliva, purse your lips and clench your fists to keep yourself from crying. You think about what you'd do if he had opted to stab you instead— you picture yourself with the handle sticking out of your shirt, blood spilling out all around it, staining your shirt and your hands red, your heart beating even faster and harder to replace it. You'd take it out, you think, and rinse it off, then hand it back to him so he can keep his hands busy like you know he likes to while you bleed out on your bed behind him.

It's only when you sniffle, still desperate to hold your tears back, that Megumi finally looks back at you and realizes this is his cue to comfort you in the only awkward way he knows how to. He closes his eyes for a second, puts the knife down, and sits down beside you, stiff as a board. You shift your weight the second he does, leaning on his shoulder, but he doesn't lean against yours. It's not an apology, you doubt it's even intended as one, but you're so eager to forgive him that you still interpret it as one, and thus an invitation to elaborate on what he'd shut down just a minute before.

"You don't need me anymore," you say, and it's only after the words are already spoken that you realize Megumi would've preferred it if you omitted the word anymore altogether. You know him to prefer not to admit he needs water. "You have friends and you know I hate them. They understand you better than I do. They can keep up with you."

"You don't hate them," He says, and you know he's not delusional— just cruel. You wonder if he's always been this cruel, if he inherited it from his father, or if it's the world who made him cruel. You don't think you're cruel— maybe cruelty is necessary for sorcerers. "It's not about any of that. I'd never toss you aside for them. I can barely stand them."

You laugh at that, and Megumi makes a sour face. "You can barely stand them but you still drag me to see them."

"I don't drag you. I can't make you do anything," He sneers.

You know that if this turns into a fight, he'll win, so you raise your white flag before it has the opportunity to and curl into yourself, away from him. Only then does he reach out to touch you.

"Maybe you should leave," You whisper, and he looks like you've scalded him.

He opens his mouth, then closes it, and opens it again. "I'll come back later."

"Don't bother," you say, and you regret it the second you do. It isn't like you to be this petty, it isn't like you to cry as much as you've been crying lately, and you find that every time you speak, you find your own voice just a little bit more grating than the last. You say don't bother but you really don't mean it. You fight down an urge to correct yourself, beg him to stay, not to leave to begin with. You'll drop it. The two of you can lie together, he can fidget with your hands, and when he wants to sleep you can run your fingers through his hair.

You don't because you want to believe that what you said is hurting him just as much as what he said earlier hurt you, even though you know, deep down, that no matter what you say to him, you can't even scratch that steel shell that protects him.

He says your name sternly, but quietly, and you're ready to cry again. "What are you doing? What is this really about?"

"I don't know."

So, he leaves. You can still smell the faintest trace of him in the air, and once he's far enough away that you can't hear his footsteps anymore, you grab the knife he was sharpening and finish the job.

You love him, you think, and he doesn't love you. Or maybe you don't. You don't know. But you're certainly not friends, and you don't think you ever have been. You don't think you've had a friend your whole life. He's not your friend, but if he told you to jump, you'd ask how high.

He's always moving from one place to another. He wakes up and goes to class, then eats lunch with Gojo, then spars with Itadori, then trains with the second years and Kugisaki, then sees Ieiri to make sure he hasn't overexerted himself, then eats dinner with the first and second years, then finally comes to collect you so you can go out with him and the others.

On the other hand, you wake up, eat your breakfast alone, meet with your teacher, and rot in your room, thinking about if and when Megumi will show up. Megumi, Megumi, Megumi. You doubt he thinks about you once before he asks if he can bring you along to whatever plans his friends have already made.

How does he do it? How does he move so consistently, so perpetually, while the best you can do is nip at his heels? The idea of it exhausts you.

He does come back, eventually. After you've fallen asleep. You hear a knock on the door that wakes you, and you know it's him, so you do your best to wake yourself up and make yourself as presentable as you can before opening the door for him. You smile, wholesome and unassuming, perfect for forgiving for any prior transgressions. Then, as he takes you in, you take him in— tousled hair, messy uniform— and realize he's shown you just how capable he really is of leaving you behind.

So, like a hurt dog, you snarl and you bite. "I thought I told you not to bother."

"Stop being like this."

That's what he's reduced you to. A dog. Pavlov'd you into doing things you'd never do otherwise, feeding you with his rare affection and unconditional protection, hit you with his disappointed glances and harsh words.

"What else should I be like?"

He huffs and reaches over you to open your door wide enough to walk through. You don't stop him— even if you wanted to, how could you? You're confused. He makes a display out of just how much he doesn't need you, but still goes out of his way to burrow his way inside of your room.

You watch him from the back as he sets his bag on the floor and takes off his jacket. You can't stand to look at the way his hair is splayed out, so you look at his back, instead. His shoulder blades poke out from under his shirt and make circles in a way you find mesmerizing. Then, he slips off his shoes and steps forward. You follow, dutiful even at your most hurt.

Then, he faces you.

"Why don't you like them?" he asks.

"What's there to like?" You know what answer he wants, and when he just looks at you, waiting for it, rather than taking your bait, you throw yourself onto your bed. "They're all sorcerers," you say sorcerers like the word puts a bad taste in your mouth.

"So am I."

"Exactly."

Your bed dips just by where your legs hang off. You know exactly what face he's wearing, so you don't bother looking. "You don't have to be jealous, you know."

"What's to be jealous about?" You ask sarcastically, and you can feel his glare boring into the side of your face.

"They're my friends, but you're my..."

He struggles to find a word to describe you, just like you struggle to find one to describe him. You know exactly what you are to him, though.

"You're my favorite."

You look up towards him. He looks away. "Really?"

"Really."

He coughs into his fist. You fluster and dig your face into your sheets.

"I still don't like your friends," you mutter.

He snorts at the sound of your muffled voice. "You don't have to."

"And I think you're the only one who likes me."

"That's your own fault."

"I don't mind.”

[russett-pots]

Lastless Memories

Kim Chaewon

Word Count: 2k (exactly)

Tags: Angsty

Here is a piece that is long overdue.

Anyway, enjoy.

You walk from the living room to the bedroom. There is a girl still wearing a bathrobe as she is trying to pick out her outfit.

“Chaewon! We’re late!”

“Hold on.” She tried to calm you down.

You get frustrated. It isn’t the first time that Chaewon is late.

“The party is supposed to start by now.”

“Wait, Just let me pick something out.” She tries to calm you down.

“Chaewon!” You raised your voice, almost shouting. Your hands wrap out your forehead to reduce the headache. “Argh. Whatever, pick something nice.”

“I will, don’t worry.” Chaewon gets a little irritated but tries to stay calm before anything escalates.

You walk out but not before slamming the door behind you.

Ah Chaewon, would you just. Argh!

You go to the couch and sit down. Your head leans back and your legs spread out, giving you some sense of calmness.

Your relationship with Chaewon is complicated. You love her and still do. But some kinks need to be worked out but you aren’t sure if Chaewon is eye to eye with what you see as the problem with the relationship.

 Chaewon comes out of her bedroom with her outfit. She is stunning but your eyes just roll over as you just want to get to the party now.

“Happy?”

“Yes, now let’s go.”

You and Chaewon go to your car and drive off to the party.

“Oppa?”

You grin. “Yes?!”

“What’s with the tone? Is there something wrong?”

“Seriously?! You don’t notice!”

“Is there something I did?”

“Of course there is! There is always something wrong with you?”

“Huh?! What does that suppose to mean?”

“You’re always late like today. We don’t meet often either. It’s like we aren’t spending time together.”

Chaewon turns to you. “Look I just had a project to do. Sorry.”

“Sorry? Sorry isn’t going to cover all the time you have been busy. You aren't the same person as before when we first dated.”

“I have been a busy person. I’m getting more and more responsibilities at work now. I thought you liked that!!!”

“Argh there are a lot of things!”

“What?! Are we just going to argue all night?”

“Well maybe if you have been on time we won’t be arguing!” You raise your voice.

Chaewon sits there shocked and just turns to the window in a curled-up position.

“Chaewon, I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated.” You try to touch her.

But she pushes you away.

“Chaewon, let’s just enjoy the party okay, we can have this conversation later.”

She turns back to you with her arms crossed and pouting. Her lips are shut as you finally arrive at the party.

You park the car and quickly rush to the other side and like a gentleman you open the door for Chaewon. You extend your hand so you can escort her.

But she slaps it away.

“Chaewon. Let’s not be like this tonight. I heard they have your favorite cookie.”

“Cookie? …..Fine. But I’m still mad at you.” She smiles at you as if nothing happened before.

She gets up and starts walking.

You follow her then she puts her hand behind her so you can hold it.

You knock on the door. Then Yuri comes out.

“Oppa!” She runs out and hugs you. “Unnie!” She hugs Chaewon as well.

“Sorry for being late.” You apologize.

“Well, I wished you could have come earlier. But I’m glad both of you are here.”

Yuri welcomes you inside. There is a bustling party going on. It’s to celebrate Yuri’s work friend who is going to move abroad and they want to throw a farewell party.

You’re mainly invited because you’re Yuri’s friend and she wants you to join. 

You quickly just find a seat on one of the couches in the living room. You and Chaewon just sit down with your arm over her shoulder.

“I’m hungry,” Chaewon says.

“Okay, I’ll get some food.” You stand up and head to the table and get something to eat.

You return to Chaewon you see her talking to another guy while smiling. You run to the guy and pull his collar. “Ya! That’s my girlfriend.”

Chaewon gets up and stops you.

“Oppa! What are you doing?!”

You lower your fist and quickly face Chaewon. “What are you cheating on me now?”

“Cheating?! I can’t believe you think I’m cheating! I hate you!”

You sigh a quick breath of disbelief. 

People start to gather around you. Yuri comes over and tries to separate you from the other guy. “Oppa let’s go.”

“Don’t worry. I was just about to leave.”

You leave the party and Chaewon. You cannot believe what she just said to you.

Hate you?

Is it over?

It’s already late at night. Almost midnight. The fight made you tired and the food made you full. As you drive, you get tired. Your eyes start to droop. You try to wake yourself up as it is very dangerous for you to sleep while at the wheel especially since you are driving on an elevated highway.

Then your eyelids start to fall once. But you slap your face. Once again your eyes start to droop. Again your try to stay awake. Then your eyes droop for the…last…time….

~~

A nurse heads over back to the nurse’s station.

“Oh my…Gosh! If Mr. Lee calms me over one more time….I’m going to….”

The head nurse comes over and consoles her. “Hey! We all did it once. You’re the new guy so um….just suck it up.”

“Fine….” She replies. “Yes, sir.”

Then the buzzer turns on again.

“Dammit! I just got here!”

The head nurse looks at which room is calling.

“Hold on, Eunbi. It’s that room. Call the doctor!”

Eunbi runs to the resident on call while the head nurse runs to the room.

There you are comatose on the bed, leads linked up to you. Your IV pinched to your body. You press the help button one more time with your weak hands.

The head nurse comes over and checks your vitals. He does a quick note down on your heart rate, breathing, and other important notes.

Then the doctor comes in with his resident.

You try to speak but barely make any noise. “What…happ…”

“Shhhhh…..” The doctor tries to calm you down. “You have been in a coma for the past two years…”

Then your heart rate goes up. You start to have a small panic attack, hyperventilating even. But the doctor is doing his best to try to calm you down. He was able to lower your heart and slow down your breathing. But still the thought of losing two years of your life.

~~

You try to eat even in your weak state. Your arms and legs look very small like they haven’t exercised in years which they haven’t. But the nurse assists you as best as she can. But you barely eat. You don’t have much appetite for anything. 

Finally, after a couple of days, you can finally walk with assistance. You head to the bathroom to wash your face. There you are, almost like a skeleton with an unkempt beard. You shave the beard but still not in the best shape. It is like the nurse is there for you to do everything. You are too weak to do anything for yourself.

Finally, it is the weekend, your parents visit.

Your mom comes over and hugs you. “Oh my gosh, my baby.” Her tight embrace surrounds you. Your dad joins in and you can feel their love for you.

It is already lunchtime and your meal arrives. Your arms are very skinny or skinnier than what was before. Your legs are not any better. That is why you need to eat as much as you can. You smile as you eat some nutrition as you look at your parents.

Then a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Your mom exclaims.

In comes, Yuri and a friend of hers. She comes and runs to you and hugs you and kisses you. You sit there shocked. “Babe, I’m so worried.”

“Sorry? Do I know you?”

“What….?”

Your mom comes up and says. “The doctor said he might have amnesia.”

“Oh, don’t you remember about me?” She replies. “It’s me, Chaewon.”

Then a rush of memories comes back. That night comes back. “Chaewon….”

Her eyes start to tear up. “Oppa…”

“I do remember you.”

“I knew it! We can just…”

“You said you hate me.”

Chaewon’s jaw drops. She cannot believe that is what you remember. Her memories are still fresh even after the two years you are gone.

She runs outside to the waiting room.

Yuri is just there still comprehending what just happened. “Oppa, you okay? Is that all you remember of her?”

“Yeah….”

“I just…. I’m just happy you are back.” Yuri says.

“Go with her…who…? What’s her name again?”

“Chaewon.”

Yuri runs out to Chaewon to comfort her.

Your mom comes over with her tea in one hand and her other stroking your hair. 

“Mom. Who was she?”

“She was your girlfriend, baby. Can’t you…”

You stare at her.

“…yeah you can’t.”

You go back to your food, slurping some of your soup.

“She was a good girl, you know. Your dad and I liked her.”

“All I remember of her is that we had an argument and she….hated….me.”

Chaewon and Yuri come back to the room.

Chaewon comes up to you and holds your hand. “Oppa, please remember me. I love you.”

“I’m sorry. I remember you. You hurt me. Can you just…leave?”

She rushes outside to the waiting area. Now she can feel the hurt all over again. The news she felt when she first heard of you in the car accident. You can’t remember her. The only thing you know about her is the pain of the night when you had your argument.

Her eyes waterfall their way out of her eyes. Even if Yuri is there to comfort her. Nothing can be done to fix her heart. She has regretted everything since then. The fighting, the constant argument. Even if she knows that you only remember that night, it is still impossible for her to think that you are gone for her. 

She mutters the small words to herself. “I love you, Oppa. Please forgive me.”

Yuri hugs her tight. “Unnie, let's go.” She holds Chaewon and brings her to the elevator. 

~~

“Yuri, do you think this is too much?” Chaweon shows her a bouquet of flowers.

“Unnie, this isn’t a funeral. He’s alive.”

“I know but…I’m trying to you know.”

“Take him back.”

“Aren’t you obsess with this?”

“I love him!” Chaewon shouts. “I know he still does.”

Yuri then knocks on your door.

You are happy when you see Yuri but then when Chaewon comes. You start to frown.

Chaewon shuffles her way to you with her flower. “These are for you.”

You stare at her blankly like no emotions except hate. Slowly the memories come back. But the hurtful ones. Nothing but pain and anguish is what’s in your heart.

Chaewon tries to hug you. But you push her away. She insists but you just deny any of her advances.

“What are you doing?!” You shout.

“Oppa…”

“Don’t oppa me.”

“But….”

“Yuri, why is she here?”

“She’s your girlfriend, oppa.”

You sigh. “Is that true?” You turn to Chaewon.

She nods cutely.

To be honest, her small aegyo does bring a smile to your face but you hide it before anyone else sees it.

“Chaewon…”

“Yes?!” She gets excited.

“Leave me alone. I can’t don’t this.”

“What do you mean?”

“You…me….even if it’s true that you’re my girlfriend. It isn’t going to happen anymore. I am hurt too much.”

Her face is dejected. She ran out of options. Nothing can bring the good memories back. She knows that it was her last chance and it failed.

Chaewon looks at you. “I enjoyed this…I enjoyed us.”

[lorei-writes]

love, I will ask of you this time: fluff, 2, mitsuhide and please dedicate it to tani, thank you <3

Dear, I love, love, love the idea of requesting for another person. It reminds me of a flower delivery service! @nuttytani , a little something for you!

»All the things we choose to share«

Mitsuhide x Reader Fluff Content Warnings: none

Goodnight

Frigid wind combs its fingers through your hair, perhaps wishing to smooth out the tangles acquired throughout the long day. It attempts gentleness, although its overzealous nature hardly helps, if not worsens, the state of affairs. Not that you have any energy left to complain. Reduced to a state of conscious helplessness, you cling to your love, or much rather, Mitsuhide supports you against himself. The forest trail passes you by at a steady pace, the dimming lights swathing the greenery in the last of their golden glow.

“Mitsuhide…” you murmur, your cheek pressed against the nape of his neck as your arms dangle off his shoulders. “I can walk. On my own.”

“Can you, now?”

“I can.” To accentuate your point, you kick your legs. Mitsuhide replies wordlessly: his grip on your thighs tightens, usually cool fingers now being oddly warm. He feigns ignorance to your displeasure, indifferent when faced with the struggles of the sandal that threatens to slip off your foot.

“You’re not particularly convincing, little mouse.”

“What would convince you?”

“What, indeed,” he giggles as you huff, the very tip of your nose poking the skin just above the collar of his kimono. “Capricious, aren’t we?”

“I just know you’re tired too,” you argue.

“And that had you become a woodpecker?”

You shift in your position, starting by straightening your back – whatever power is left in your limbs, you utilise it now, hands holding onto his shoulders firmly as you pull yourself forward. Your cheek presses against his, quite forcefully. As forcefully as you can manage, in fact. “Do not change the topic,” you demand. “You’ve hardly slept, and then we were on the run, and now that we’ll be back in Azuchi tomorrow, you won’t sleep either. I… worry, you know.”

Your arms cross in front of his chest, your body flush against his back. Without thinking of it much, you nuzzle against his ear, silky hair tickling your face – and perhaps were you not as weary, you’d take note of the heat rising to his cheeks, the reddish pink tint proving the warmth of his blood. However, you are tired. Exhausted. Strained, aching all over, and much too comfortable for any thoughts to linger for long inside of your head. So his secret is safe.

Mitsuhide looks at the path ahead of you. You are not mistaken, he is rather unwell; he cannot feel his legs, for all they are is burning and distress, his arms seem to have been eaten through with rust, and his lungs are not exactly pleased with the weight he hauls… Nevertheless, he smiles, and smiles only brighter as you snuggle closer to him. For you, he will withstand it, and because of you, he will look forward to coming back home once all is said and done.

Mitsuhide adjust his hold on you as your arms grow slack, each of his fingers on your exposed skin wishing you a good night. May it be a peaceful one.

--

Tag list: @lancelotscloak @violettduchess @the12thnightproject @oda-princess @tele86 @rinaririr

Tell me if you'd like to be added to my tag list :)

[not-your-fucking-kacchan]

♡︎𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮♡︎

Day 14 of Kinktober 2022

Summary: Nothing feels better than having him grovel at your feet.

Props to my beta reader for today @sasualblxd - thank you for your amazing help!

581 words.

Nothing feels better than this. Nothing feels... More empowering, than having the great Katsuki Bakugou sniveling at your feet, reduced to tears over a ruined orgasm.

Okay, maybe you are just a little bit of a sadist, so what?

"Oh, I have the perfect present for you, baby boy."

Voice dripping with smug amusement, you taunt him. Who would've thought that such a prideful firecracker would like being put down and humbled. Right now he kneels on the floor, his head resting on your bare knees while fresh tears clear pathways down plush cheeks. He still has some baby fat there, you muse. Cute.

It hadn't taken very long to get all dolled up this morning, and now you sit on the edge of your bed, clad in a skimpy skirt and halter top while your brick wall boyfriend worships you on his hands and knees.

He raises his head to look at you at the sound of a little bell ringing while you pull a cute little bow out of your fluffy jacket pocket. A dog collar.

'A dog collar? Really!?' He can't deny the way that his dick twitches in his sweats, chubbing against the flat of your foot where it rests on him like he's a footstool. This is humiliating for him, and he can't get enough. Even fully clothed, he feels naked and vulnerable under your cold glare. It's refreshing to be stripped bare of his protective walls at the end of the day and rebuilt by the one he trusts the most in this entire world. Katsuki Bakugou wants you to ruin him.

And ruin him you will.

"Isn't it so pretty, baby? It's even got a little bell so I always know where you are~" Your tone is light- teasing, even. He wants more.

"Shall I put it on you?" His eyes are wide, pupils blown with lust and anticipation. His adam's apple, adorned with various bite marks and faded hickeys, bobs in his throat as he gulps audibly, parting dry lips for a shaky breath.

"Y-yes please."

"Then beg."

His eyes widen and he visibly shivers. You can feel his dick at full mast beneath your foot, twitching to attention as a little whimper catches your ear.

"Please- please! Let me wear it- I've been good! Please? Just- just let me- please... I'm begging! I'm begging you, I- please let me wear it for you..."

He's desperate, clamouring for your approval while you smirk down at him. It's a truly beautiful sight as he becomes your pathetic little pet behind closed doors. In this moment, he is yours, in both mind and body.

With a snicker you unclip the collar, fastening it gently around his neck and caressing his jaw when you finally pull your hands away, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. Your lipstick leaves a print on his skin, marking him as yours and it brings a cruel smile to your lips when you study it.

"There's a good boy. And guess what good boys get? They get a reward~"

He could cum in his pants if he weren't straining to hold back while you take his hand in yours, his arm heavy with muscle. Slowly, you guide his hand under your shirt to let him cup the curve of your breast under your bra, prompting him to squeeze and bringing a familiar heat between your legs.

If he's lucky, you may let him get what he's begging for.

© 2022 not-your-fucking-kacchan

◃ 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 ▹

[eternal-gromnommer]

In celebration of this year's Kaijune, I decided to re-watch Pacific Rim: Uprising to check if it really was as bad as everyone was claiming it was and I remember it being.

It...kinda was.

Heaps of wasted opportunities, character arcs that went nowhere, random pointless death of Mako Mori (boo!) and a whole new cast of teens who have little appeal and just rehash the story beats of the first film.

Which is a shame, because it did have a lot of cool ideas that could have been better-executed. Like the hybrid-drones, or Obsidian Fury, the kaiju-brain controlled Jaeger.

But by far the biggest wasted opportunity was the rather bland and underwhelming Mega Kaiju, which just looked like a bigger Kaiju with the component parts barely evident. So for Kaijune I whipped up a redesign of how I'd try to make it look more distinct and have the component parts accounted for.

Raijin, Hakuja and Shrikethorn remain mostly unchanged, just with more distinct palettes to highlight the patchwork nature of the fusion and with a reduced number of digits to make the fused limbs less cluttered.

The centerpiece of the Mega Kaiju head is Raijin's inner head, with Shrikethorn's inverted upper jaw now forming the lower jaw and Raijin and Shrikethorn's original lower jaws forming a "collar" around the neck. Hakuja's head is split entirely in half to form "horns" and the tusked lower jaw similarly bisected to form "mandibles". Raijin's four head-plates are all present, with the bottom two on the chest and the top two forming a crest atop the fused head. Ten eyes from Shrikethorn, six from Hakuja and sixteen from Raijin add up to a total of 32: way more than canon!Mega Kaiju's ten.

The redesigned Mega Kaiju also has eight limbs instead of six. The two main forearms are a fusion of Shrikethorn and Raijin's arms, while a smaller pair on the chest are Hakuja's intact frontmost limbs. The two pairs of hind legs are Hakuja's four back legs, with the middle pair fused to Raijin's legs and the back pair fused to Shrikethorn's legs. Hakuja's dorsal armor plates now stand up like spikes on the Mega Kaiju's back, and the tails are partly Raijin and partly Shrikethorn, with Hakuja armor plates forming spear-like tips.

And finally, as a stitched-together Frankensteined kaiju, the seams are still clearly visible, made from the ripper drones that tore apart the three components and sewed them up into one. The seams and stitches occasionally leak blue kaiju blood now and then: furthering the Mega Kaiju design as a mutilated, tortured monstrosity, clearly not designed to survive very long and merely live long enough to wreck its immediate foes, reach Mount Fuji, and jump inside to its death to fulfill the Precursors' master plan to trigger a massive eruption and cause a mass extinction event.

[silvergolddraco28]

He’s Mine - open roleplay - Dark/Possessive/Manipulative Macaque x Sun Wukong

_———_

Idea: Macaque getting possessive over Wukong and Mk after several demons try to kidnap Mk and force Wukong into a demon marriage.

()()()()

‘Well shit.’ A figure thought carrying a small squirming bundle in their arms as they raced through the alleys and backstreets. Their energy practically drained from the arcane laws the ones chasing them had invoked. Golden blood leaked from a deep wound on their side while flashes of a thick black choker was wrapped snuggly around the being’s dark blood-drenched neck in the weak lights.

The being was tired and exhausted but the fear of what would happen to the squirming bundle in their arms if they got caught spurred them on as the being came to a dead-end ally jumping to the corner and using the walls and their reduced agility to maneuver to over the wall tucking into a roll on the other side as the ring of a firearm followed by blinding pain in their leg nearly made them crumble. “Fuck!” the being cursed as they forced their body to keep running as more echoes of firearms came from being them.

They ducked into a slim dark wedge of a side street hidden behind some dumpsters panting hard while their heart pounded in their chest, pressing their back against the cold metal to help them focus on anything put the pain in their leg.

They slowed their breath as they heard many feet just outside of their hiding place.

“God damn it! How hard is it to find a bright gold monkey with a slave collar bleeding out and shot several times?! He should be incapacitated by now!” a demon snarled while the clicks of a gun being reloaded filled the hidden one’s ears.

“He’s still a God in his own right Boss. He went utterly savage on the few that tried to grab the kid he took under his wing.”

“Find him! Find him and bring him to me! I'm going to enjoy threatening that kid that fucking monkey has and making that false King scream when I hold a gun to that other monkey’s head!”

The being hiding in the the side ally grit his teeth and makes his choice. […Shadow… please… I need help…] the being mentally projected down a frayed and decaying connection long ignored hoping he didn't make the wrong choice as pain flared around his neck from the choker squeezing his his throat shut depriving him of breath causing instinct to kick in. [*MIHOU!*] they mentally screamed while they gasped for air golden tears glittering down their face in the dim light try in to pull off the choker that sent shocks of divine energy into their body.

Shadows writhed and grew around the being writhing and gasping for breath vision swimming as a blurry black figure with glowing purple eyes came close tenderly cupping their face in their hands. “Shush~ I'm here now Gem~ Sleep, i’ll take care of the *pests*~”

The being felt their body go slack before they slipped into the darkness of unconsciousness free of the pain their body had been subjected to for the past month running around the city from demon after demon trying to make them submit. They felt light in the black void but they knew it was only a matter of time before they woke up in the Shadow’s possessive embrace. ‘One must pay a price to leave the Diyu before the cycle claims them… I gave up entering the cycle of life and death… Just what did he give up to become so obsessed with me after he became free from that ice bitch?’

[cordeliawhohung]

Can you dissect the scene in the orchard a little more from Simon's POV in soft spot? Like how far away were they when he saw the scene? What was going through his mind as he ripped Leon off reader?

If that's too far back feel free to ignore ❤️

Spoilers ahead for Soft Spot: Everything You Touch!!!

of course we can!!! and don't worry about asking about anything too far back in the story!! when i post the full dissection of my full thoughts and process and whatnot, it'll be for the entire story. so that's not an issue at all! i'd love to talk about anything you have questions for!

now, this scene is so so so important. it's Spook's final stand, in a way. the orchard rests just past a hill, and Bukin is dragging her through the trees and whatnot when she takes the steak knife out to stab him. she then runs away from the orchard back towards the hill, where Bukin catches up to her and catches the collar of her (his) coat and yanks her back. so when Spook falls, her head is facing towards the orchard, and when he gets on top of her, his back is towards the hill.

this is important because Simon and the others come from the very same direction as they did, so when they first find her, Bukin's back is facing towards them, but more importantly they're at an angle. Simon could have simply shot Bukin and saved Spook in an instant and things would have honestly gone much smoother, but he would risk Spook getting shot too. these are the first calculations he's making in his head when he first sees that Bukin is on top of her because he wants him dead. he wants him off of her as soon as possible, but can't do it that way because he could hurt her.

because this man is livid at what he sees. even with Bukin's back turned to him it's not all too difficult to make out the way her legs flail underneath his weight or how she tries to push him away in some pathetic attempt to live. he hasn't seen her for months and that's what he comes back to.

it's something of a blind rage that takes over him. he marches down the hill, which is probably only a handful of yards away, and he wants Bukin's death to be slow. he wants him to pay for every single mark that was left on Spook. hence the quick breaking of his arm. he wants to shatter his hands for harming you, to disembowel him organ by organ, but as was sort of stated in that chapter, he frankly doesn't have the time. and you're there to watch it all happen.

but i think the thing that made him most angry was this scene here:

“I guess you were right after all, darling,” Leon spoke through gritted teeth. “Your friend really-”  A sudden ear-ringing crack filled the air around you, and it was so loud you could hear it's high pitched echo bounce around in the distance. It cut off Leon’s talking as it reduced his very being to blood and brain matter on the grass that was just as dead as he was. His eyes continued to stare at you - stare though you - as Simon stepped off of his arm with a good push as if the man could still feel the pain.  “Don’t fucking call her that,” he warned, his eyes giving away all the ways he wished he had killed him slower.

the part where he calls you darling. such a simple pet name like he was your lover and not your captor. how he only whispers his warning to him after the bullet has torn through his skull. it's that moment when Simon really started to truly get a vague idea of just what had happened to you. besides the pictures and the obvious marks, Bukin took your dignity and stripped you of your security.

and his anger goes beyond words but he knows he can't afford it because you're there. so he swallows it all down because he has to be there for you, and there's some sort of sick and twisted sense of relief when he's got you in his arms, one that doesn't pair well with the guilt he's been trying to swallow for months.

and when you got shot? despite it all, despite how close the two of you were to finally going home? it's indescribable. the pain, utter heart ache, all of it. it's so much all it does is numb him because he's losing his life all over again.

anyway, i think i probably went a little overboard on my answer lmao. there's still a little more to this scene that i'm not sure you wanted to hear all at once but Simon was in one big, angry mess when seeing you like that.

thank you so much for your question! i'll be adding this post in my soft spot dissection links once i publish the full post!

[avvail]

writing snippet #24

tw: tasers/electrocution

Hero flipped to avoid another attack, balancing on their hands before the momentum carried them off over the scattered crates of the warehouse. They landed on bent knees and dove out of the way when Thief went to smack them with their heel, kicking down at where their form had once been.

The hero clenched their jaw and their fist connected with Thief’s exposed side, right where they knew the kidney’s were. The master thief held back a choked gasp and collapsed onto their knees, smacking into the concrete. Hero grinned under their breath and swung onto their feet, grabbing the back of their collar.

Thief could hardly fight when they were jerked back, a rough hand pinning them onto their back. Under the mask, their face wrinkled in pain, taking jagged breaths.

“Cute,” they wheezed. “Playing dirty?”

Hero grit their teeth and frowned. “Tell me what you want with this stuff.”

The warehouse was barren, the security droids deactivated when Thief had snuck into the place. Some of the crates were smuggling a powerful energy source that had started going missing in various places. Hero had pinpointed the final location and managed to apprehend the thief before they could get their hands on it.

Except, they hadn't expected this particular thief to be behind the crime.

Their muscles were aching; they were a formidable opponent. Almost too good. Hero had been bested by them far too many times, and they were going to put them away for good this time.

“My motto is steal, don’t tell,” Thief forced a grin, but their voice was still strained from the attack on their kidney’s. “Although, if you’re willing to give me a little kiss...”

The hero went hot around the collar, but swiftly hid it by violently jostling them, yanking them up by the front of their shirt. Thief groaned softly, pain rippling up to their ribs.

“We can either do this here, or a prison cell,” Hero spat, tightening their grip until their knuckles went white. “Your choice.”

Thief tilted their head. “How about neither?”

Beneath them, their legs jerked upwards, knocking Hero forward against their hips, a surprised gasp escaping them. They had to let go of their shirt to brace themselves against the floor, palms smacking into the concrete painfully. Thief took this opportunity and wrapped their legs around their waist, flipping them both over.

Hero felt the air being ripped from their lungs, as they landed on their stomach, Thief’s weight hot and heavy against their lower back. Their arm was twisted behind their back and the other pinned above their head, tearing an angry groan from their lips.

Thief sighed in satisfaction and relaxed, gripping their wrist until the hero caved, letting out a painful cry.

“Now, this is much prettier sight,” they purred. “But unfortunately, I’m on a tight schedule here. I ought to get going.”

Hero felt a hard fist smack into the side of their temple, and they saw a plethora of bright stars. They wheezed against the ground and rolled clumsily onto their side, trying to blink away the haziness. They briefly saw the whirling figure of Thief cranking open one of their crates, and they grit their teeth, determination surging through them.

They dragged themselves onto their feet and darted towards them, throwing a particularly nasty roundhouse kick that Thief only just narrowly avoided. Their foot smashed against the crate, reducing it to nothing but splinters. They landed and felt their vision blur, but directed a deadly glare towards them.

Thief was empty handed, but they could tell they were shaking with anger. “God sake, Hero, give it a rest!”

So the hero definitely didn’t give it a rest.

They attacked with more verocity than before, their fists flying in anger and being blocked expertly each time. It was truly astounding how Thief could keep up so effortlessly, but they seemed to grow bored of their games and grabbed their wrist, flinging them against the wall.

Their shoulder clipped against a mess of wires and an electric circuit popped as they sunk to the ground. It sparked and coughed and suddenly, they were hearing mechanical clunking and whirring. They squinted across the warehouse to find the security droids online, their eyes glowering a bright red.

Hero gasped as they jolted towards their direction, and suddenly an influx of them were rolling towards them, the smooth patch where their hand would be sparking with lights. They scrambled to their feet and desperately searched for the thief. They had already hopped high into the rafters, with something tucked under their arm and a grappling hook clutched in the other.

Hero dodged a swing from the security droid, not fond of the taser’s they planned to subdue them with, despite not being the real threat at hand.

“Thief!” They screamed, forced to take their eyes off them to kick away one of the droids. It tipped over and unceremoniously clattered to the ground.

Thief balanced on the railings, sending them a disasterously pleased grin. “Good luck!”

They blew them a kiss, before they were yanked through the open window by the grappling hook, disappearing off into the night. Hero cursed under their breath and evaded another swing. They kicked away a few more pathetic security droids before diving across the other side of the broken crates, heading towards the exit.

But Hero hadn’t expected one knocked down security droid to thrust it’s taser against their calf, and the hero definitely wasn’t expecting the agonising pain that engulfed them. They clenched their jaw, leg going numb, until they crumbled under their weight and smacked into the ground.

They felt another security droid jam a taser into their stomach, and the hero saw white. They let out a painful shriek as their body spasmed, excruciating pain wracking their bones and zapping up their spine. It only seemed to grow worse, until their mind started to shut down and they could hardly breathe.

What was going on? These were meant to subdue the criminals, not kill them!

Tears welled in their eyes, their body too rigid to move under the bouts of electricity pounding through them. They couldn’t even open their mouth to say they were Hero – like that might work. Static pulsed through their skull, until they heard a smash echoing around them, and the taser’s were ripped away from their body.

The hero sucked in a desperate breath, but it felt like fire was climbing up their throat. They deteriorated into a violent fit of coughs, gasping for air. They curled their arms around their stomach, pressing against the flesh, their body still twitching slightly from the aftermath of the attack.

Their head swarmed with a throbbing headache, and they felt arms slip under their legs and across their back, lifting them off the floor. They whimpered at the fiery pain and pressed against the warm chest, unaware that tears had slid down their cheeks sometime earlier. There was a rush of wind and their stomach was churning with the swift sensations, like whoever it was was jumping down from once surface to another.

They groaned in pain and tried blinking their eyes open, but the wind pierced their eyes like knives and only made them shrivel up more into the comfortable chest. They felt the ground again and their eyes flickered open once more, blinking back the black spots on the edges of their vision.

They could hear someone’s voice, fuzzy in their ears. Hero released a shuddering sigh and shifted closer into their arms, grateful they had saved them from that excruciating pain, now a dull ache that occasionally sparked more painfully than before.

“I should bring a taser to our next fight,” the voice murmured, dryly amused. “They make you very clingy.”

Shit. Hero recognised that voice. Their body felt too heavy to pull away, simply trying to muster up enough strength to squint their eyes through the darkness of the night.

“Thief...” They slurred quietly, causing the criminal to sigh heavily and hold them tighter.

“Be quiet. You’re a real nuisance, you know that?”

Hero’s fogged up brain finally came to a shocking conclusion, almost jerking them awake. Thief had just saved them from the security droids; they had the energy source, and they had the opportunity to escape. Why hadn’t they?

They felt something brush against their cheek, so soft they leaned into it, but it was gone before they could figure out what it was.

“And here I thought you could handle some silly droids,” Thief mocked, making the hero frown. “I was in my right mind to leave you there.”

Hero’s throat felt tight as they clutched their stomach tighter. “You should’ve.”

“Yeah,” Thief muttered lazily, shrugging their shoulders. “Probably.”

“No, really...” Hero forced a weak smile as the sound of distant sirens reached their ears. “Secruity droids alert the police. You’re going to be arrested.”

Thief’s eyes widened as their head snapped to the side, straightening up. The screeching of police sirens and the roaring engines were drawing closer in mere moments, and the thief’s expression tightened in anger for just a split second.

A sharp clacking sound dragged their attention back towards the hero, gaze dropping to their arm. They saw a handcuff around their wrist, and stared at Hero, seeing the other locked around their own. They were smiling dazily, their eyes unfocused in the darkness.

“Can’t run,” they muttered softly, trying to chuckle, but it seemed they had used all their remaining energy to shackle them both together. “I caught you.”

Thief raised a brow, before a smirk rose on their lips. They pulled Hero closer, brushing a strand of their hair behind their ear with their gloved hand. “Hero, what makes you think I won’t just take you with me?”

They gently played with their locks. “This doesn’t stop me. You think I’m going to sit here and wait to get arrested?”

Hero’s eyes were glittering in confusion as they tried to decipher what Thief was saying. The criminal sighed in amusement and shook their head, wedging their hand out of the handcuff. Hero hadn’t even been able to tighten it properly, but it was to be expected.

It was a cute attempt, though.

They pulled away from them, almost pleased when the hero tried to clutch onto them, grumbling under their breath. Thief scooped up their prize and tucked it under their arm again. Hero watched them as the sirens grew louder, piercing through their skull.

“It was nice, as always,” Thief sighed with a smile on their face, rolling their shoulders back with satisfying pop. They stepped over the hero and turned back to give them a wink through the mask. “You owe me for this. I want you to remember that.”

Hero rolled onto their side with a pained gasp, their fist digging into the ground below them. They could only muster a frustrated glare as the thief jogged across the concrete, sending them an enthusiastic wave.

“See you, love you!” They called, before spinning around, and disappearing off into the darkness. Hero clenched their jaw and fell back onto their back as the flashing blue and red lights cascaded across their figure, dancing on the ground.

They closed their eyes. “Fuck you.”