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vintagexherry · 9 months

Text

Child's Play [8][Finale]

Part 7 here

//NSFW, First Times, Bit of Blood, Oral, Bit of Crying,Bullying, Fingering,Implied Non Con,Manipulation, Dubious consent, Threating, Forced Intimacy.

A/N: I used google translate for the spanish so im sorry if theres mistakes.

Previously

"Mmmm, you taste better than I imagine."

You didn't care anymore.Your tired body slowly succumbs to sleep while Miguel once again hugged you against him.

With that you both fell asleep.

Once you woken up, Miguel wasn't beside you.

You looked at the clock at the nightstand seeing that it's ten-forty five in the morning, you can't help but feel surprised you woke yourself up this early.

While you notice Miguel wasn't beside you, you took the time to mentally prepare yourself for what this day to come.

First, you gotta get ready and unpack your dorm.

Second, you gotta meet up again with Miguel's mom, who's probably making breakfast since you hear sizziling downstairs.

...

You rack your brain for more but you gave up.

But curse your brain for thinking, you suddenly remembered last night, which made you abruptly sit up straight.

As you did, your eyes fell upon the panties on the floor.

Your panties.

Teared in half.

What a way to start your day.

You sighed deeply, remembeing Miguel's way to "relax" you.

How could you ever enjoy that.

Your head was filled thoughts but was cut out when you hear small scratching noises outside.

Curiosity got the best of you and you opened the door.

You were greeted with Lyla meowing at you as if to say good morning.

Atleast there's one thing you could smile upon this day.

You crouched down to pet her which she happily accepted.

After some moments, you gathered your bearings, and washed your face and head downstairs.

As you head down even further, you smell the breakfast and you hear your stomach growling.

Not only your stomach but seems to be the voices of Miguel and Mrs. O'Hara.

"....Ya sabes como es tu papá, trabaja allá, trabaja aquí. Pero aparte de eso, ¿por qué no la llamas abajo? La comida está lista." (....You know how your dad is, work there, work here. But that aside, why don't you call her downstairs, food is ready.)

You hear Mrs. O'Hara speak and Miguel's footsteps approaching the stairs.

But he stops mid way as he already sees you go down.

"Oh! Good morning Y/N" Miguel said with a light smile.

"Uh...Goo-" You were interrupted when Mrs.O'Hara beamed at you.

"Oh, mija! You're already awake! Look at how pretty you are in that sleepdress, I knew I made the right choice,well then vamonos, I made Hueves Rancheros." (Let's go) She said as she went back to the kitchen.

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Breakfast went without a problem, aside from Conchanta teasing the both of you, saying that maybe the two of you did something last night.

You couldn't find the heart to look at her.

While you get prepared to go outside, Miguel is in his car waiting for you.

You then thought about where you are gonna stay since your gonna clean up your dorm.

You remember a friend saying that she's gonna have her own apartment and if you want, you could stay with her.

You go outside and head straight to Miguel's car.

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Car rides are always silent with Miguel.

You don't have the energy to fill it up, considering what he did last night.

Your thoughts then drive back to Steven.

You don't have the energy to deal with that right now.

What will you do once you see him?

Pretend everything is fine?

You inwardly groan at that thought. Forget it if you actually did see him. Will Miguel even let you speak to him?

While Miguel drives, he keeps glancing at you.

He remembers trying to hold back from hugging you again when he sees you with your morning bed hair.

The way you felt around his finger last night was unforgettable, it couldn't compare to any girl he fucked with.

He shook his head out from those thoughts.

He can't have a boner early in the morning right now.

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Miguel insisted on helping you unpack your dorm.

You tried denying him, but he had already moved past your form and into your room.

While unpacking your clothes, he goes around the place like he owns it and decides to unpack your study table instead.

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Time passes by quickly when your busy with your own thoughts.

Miguel tries to fill the silence with small commentary but for the most part you ignore him.

While Miguel turns on his car, you quickly notify him about moving to your friend's apartment, but he has other ideas.

"No."

"I-... Miguel, what do you mean 'no'? I can't just stay with you until graduation." You fought back.

"You're a smart person, no means no, plus my mom already likes you a lot, don't even worry about after graduation too. I talked to my dad, and I already made you intern in Alchemax." He finishes while he starts to drive.

He can't do this.

He can't just plan your life ahead without your permission.

But then again, when was the last time he did ask for your permission.

"Look, Miguel, I really can't, I want to stay with my friend I-"

"After all that my mom gave you, you're just gonna leave like that?" he interrupted.

"What- no, This isn't about her, I am thankful for what she did but I-"

"Then don't leave." He said as if he's trying you to convince you not to go to another country.

"Listen to me, Miguel...I don't feel safe when you're around, and I'm sure you know why, so for the last time, bring me to my friend."

Miguel inhales and grips the wheel tightly.

"And how bout you listen to me, Y/N. I already planned ahead, so your pretty little head won't think so much. A little gratitude would be nice."

"A thank you? Is that what you want? After all the scenarios you force me into and you want a little gratitude?" He better be thankful instead that he's driving or you might as well claw his eyes out.

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"We'll talk later." He said firmly as he parks the car, You didn't even notice you arrived.

A week has passed, and everyone you knew was preparing for graduation that's about to commence in two days. You already have your toga and everything. You admit that you feel happy you came this far despite everything, but there's one more thing.

You tried talking to Miguel about moving with your friend again, but all he did was pull your hair roughly to his face and threaten that if you speak a word about that again, he can make you not graduate.

You tried fighting back, but his grip on your hair is frighteningly strong.

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Two days have passed, and here you are with Mrs. O'Hara, she insisted she wanted to curl your hair and style your makeup a bit before all of you went to the venue.

Before all of you left, Conchanta wanted to take a picture of both you and Miguel and you forced a smile if it meant seeing her this happy.

The three of you arrived in the venue packed with parents,students and staff alike.

While teachers and staffs make their speeches, you were busy trying to look for Steven in the crowd of students.

Lo and behold, you did.

You wanted to wave at him, but he was too far away for you to notice.

You decided to do it later.

You got up the stage and got your reward and handshake and Mrs. O'Hara is taking a picture of you..

Before you knew it, everyone was hugging each other with tears streaming down and smiles on their faces.

You, though, were busy looking for Steven.

While Miguel is busy with talking to his own friends, you want to talk to your own.

Finally, you saw Steven, and without a second thought, you pulled him aside.

"Y-Y/N?"

"Steven!" You smiled while you hugged him as if he's gonna disappear in a flash.

Steven can't help but hug back even tighter.

"Ma-mate, I thought you died or something, not t-that you did but, you know."

You didn't do anything to stop his rambles but still continued hugging him.

But suddenly he pulled away.

"Wa-wait...No I can't."

Confused, you look at Steven for awnsers.

"Steven?"

"Look I...I think it's best for us not to talk...This wasn't about what happened during prom mate, It's just, your gonna hate me for hiding this from you but Miguel texted me a few days back...Well text isn't really a right term but more like demanded me to leave you or your future career will be jeopardised." Steven said as he tried not to break down.

You paused, collecting in what he just said.

Miguel really plans ahead, does he?

"Steven, I-""

You tried to reason with Steven more but it just seems like he wants to avoid it.

He has mentioned Miguel promising your safety anyway if Steven leaves you alone.

You tried convincing him that it isn't all that sunshine and rainbows.

But Steven couldn't do anything, instead he hugged you.

You froze.

Your head stopped thinking. All you could do was hug back.

Althought,It didn't last long since the next thing you knew is hearing someone's voice.

"You two done? Didn't I tell you to leave her?"

If looks could kill both, you and Steven would evaporate on the spot, considering how he was staring down at you.

You tried saying something, but a hand gripped your forearm tightly and pulled you away from Steven.

"Miguel! Let me go!" You tried wiggling your arm away from his grip, but he just tightened it futher.

He didn't spare any more second with Steven since he started leading you back to where his mom was waiting for the both of you to take pictures together.

Steven stood there, alone.

His body fills with regret as he watches you walk away.

But he remembers Miguel's words, the threats of what he can do to your body, or your career, or even your life. It scares him. He can never forgive himself for doing this, but he has high hopes that you will be safer.

Even if that meant him being away from you.

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A month has passed since then.

Miguel kept himself to his words that you and him are gonna work together.

You got your dream job being a geneticist, but is it really a dream if you're working with a man that plagues your nightmares?

After a week of your graduation, Miguel's father came back from a business trip and has talked with his son about you.

Miguel's father seemed to approve of you, so much for Miguel's delight.

Life with Miguel isn't always the prettiest but it gotten easier.

It took you several weeks to assure you that he won't hurt you, physically speaking.

Miguel and you lived with his mom and dad until Miguel surprised you with a private residence few blocks away from Alchemax.

He said it was a gift from his father to the both of you.

The private residence can fit two people or more. The backyard has a lot of space and even a pool.

The kitchen is an island type, with a sliding door that leads to a garden where you can freshly pluck vegetables and herbs.

You go upstairs and see each bedroom and guestrooms.

You can admit your in awe.

Rich people, you swear, can buy anything and won't even leave a dent in their wallet.

"I take it that you like it?"

Frick, you were busy exploring, you forgot Miguel's existance.

"I'd say it...Alright." You say monotously as you admire the bedroom, especially the walk-in closet.

Miguel chuckles as he knows the truth, especially the way you look at awe at everything.

This just proves that Miguel is perfect for you. Seeing that he can provide and impress you.

That reminds him, you two were getting risky and riskier the more you spend time with each other.

He started touching you more and more, he knows that you don't like it, fully aware of it even. But does he care?

No.

One time, he hugged you, and you tried pushing him off, but he just pushed you further into the bed and teared your underwear in half before diving a finger in.

A few days have passed from that, and he could still smell you from his finger.

Another time, you were feeling out of it, the reality of you spending your life with Miguel processed in, and you felt nothing but dead inside.

While laying in bed and contemplating your life. He removed your underwear. You tried pushing him off and telling him you weren't in the mood for it yet.

But he just swat your arm away and dived his mouth to your slit, licking every part that he can, sucking your clit with vigour and putting a finger in while doing so.

You tried holding your moans and gasps, but it was fruitless.

Months pass since then, and here you are admiring the cabinets and drawers your walk-in closet could offer.

He looked away from a bit and drifted his attention to the bed.

He suddenly remembered a superstition he heard from his mom talking to his tias.

Something about red underwear being a sole bringer of love. He used to think it's absurb, after all adults will believe any superstition they could come across to.

But now that he thinks about it.

....

He wonders what underwear you're wearing now.

Before he could ponder even more, he heard the doorbell rang, and it seemed like the movers arrived.

He goes to answer the door, ignoring his lustful thoughts.

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Two months passed, and both you and Miguel got busy decorating,arranging, and finalizing the house.

You admit during the entire moving in day, it was therapeutic.

You can purposely ignore Miguel without being too obvious.

The garden was your favourite part, planting and watering seeds of all kinds, either be it fruit, vegetable, herbs, or just flowers.

Decorating your room was nice, too, but not with full freedom since you are dreadfully sharing with Miguel. But nonetheless, you take what you can, something you learn when you have been with Miguel for the past months.

Arranging spices and dishware in the kitchen can also be in your list of favourites, labelling spices and arranging cups to your least, and most favourites. Even filling out your double door fridge with ingredients such as fish, meat and etc. During your stay with Mrs. O'Hara, she has given the time to teach you several recipes.

In short, you were having the time of your life.

Miguel says otherwise.

He tries to convince himseld he's contented seeing you get all giddy and comfy when decorating the house. Getting all whimsy in your little garden.

But try as he might, he can't ignore his sexual desires, sue him for sure, but can he really hold himself back when you look like the way you do?

The way your eyes smile slightly widens when you see your plant sprouting one leaf, the way your eyes read over the ingredients, the way you hum while you inspect the fridge when you think he's not there.

And the way your body bends over to pick up that fallen book out of your hand.

It just reminds him of that time when you gave him your panties in the library.

He wishes he could bend you over the study table, but he can't.

He wants your first time to be special.

Honestly, he surprised himself for lasting this long without penetration, only satisfying himself with oral (which you greatly improved) and fingering.

But that isn't enough for him.

He has needs.

And he needs to fuck you on the bed.

But how can he without looking too desperate?

He thinks and thinks and thinks.

And finally, a light bulb goes on.

He has an idea.

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It was late at night. You were bathing yourself, and Miguel went out to get something.

Whatever he means by that.

Who cares since you get to be alone to what feels like forever. You can't remember the time you were fully alone since Miguel stuck with you like gorilla glue.

Your thoughts then drive to these few months.

Living with Miguel became tolerable, not lovely, just tolerable.

Getting this private place was nice too, and the old neighbour nearby seemed kind.

Being able to work as a geneticist is nice. at least you got your dream.

It seems like Steven did too, you remember seeing an article of Steven and his brothers finding a lost tomb of Alexander the Great. Atleast his happy.

You can also admit that Miguel is good at bed. Who are you kidding? Of course he is, considering the number of people he slept with.

The first time you gave him oral was a nightmare at best though.

He one day came back with a sour expression, you didn't want to ask why, fearing you could possibly make it worse.

But curiosity is a thing, so you did ask but.

Curiosity also killed the cat.

Next thing you know you were forced down to your knees with a hard thud and carpet roughly scrapping your knees.

While you try to fight back, he keeps mentioning how much you make him hold back then going on to say how selfish you are.

The next thing you knew was your mouth being forcefully opened with one hand while his other unzipped his pants and wasted no time to put his dick into your mouth.

You swore you almost vomited during that night, with his dick thrusting too deep into your mouth but you managed.

But he seemed to notice, seeing as he thursted until you could feel his cock throbbed in your throat.

He made you stay like that for a while, while tears and drool dripped down to your chest.

He looked down at you and groaned loudly at how you look attractive below him. And after headfucking moments, he finally came down your throat.

You shivered from the memory.

You got out of the bathtub and wrapped a towel around you as you drain the water.

While you watch it drain, you hear the front door open and your bedroom next.

"Mi vida, where are you?" Miguel asked.

You step out of the bathroom, and in the arms of Miguel, it was a box, and with closer inspection, you felt like you had seen it before.

"Oh, there you are! Perfect timing, I was you to try this on, and don't come out of the bathroom until you do." He said as he lended the box to you leading you back to the bathroom and closed the door.

You paused for a while, and after some time, you put the box on top of the sink counter and unwrapped yourself out of the towel.

Whatever Miguel gave you, he seemed nothing but excited.

You carefully untied the ribbon.

Oh....

That's why it seems familiar...

In the box, you see lingerine, a red one.

Lacey with expensive looking embroidery, unlike you previous given lingerine, this one doesn't have a corset.

Although it still has stocking, with straps you could connect to the garterbelt.

You decided to wear it, not wanting to know what punishment you could face if you didn't.

After strapping the strap of the stocking to your underwear, you look at the mirror and surprised with what you see.

The colour compliments your skin tone, and the design seems to be made just for you.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard a knock on your door.

"You done yet, Mi sol?"

You took one last glance at the mirror and took a deep breath.

"Ye-Yeah! Im coming!"

You opened the bathroom door, and in front of you is Miguel sitting on the bed, frozen in place and in awe of what he sees.

He made sure the lingerine was tailored to your size, and it did your figure justice.

"U-um..."

Your voice snapped him out of his trance.

"Come here."

With a bit of hesitation, you followed his orders.

As you got closer, both of his hands didn't waste time to grab your waist to pull you closer for inspection.

His hands glide over the delicate lace and fabric. Sometimes, pulling back the straps to see it snap back in place, making you yelp in pain, he didn't feel an ounce of regret. Instead, his pants just felt tighter.

"No sé cómo me contuve después de todos estos meses..." (I dont know how I held back after all these months....)

You notice Miguel speaking under his breath. His words aren't clear enough for you to hear.

"We've spent time together for so long, mi vida....So please...Let me.." Miguel begged as he started placing light kisses on your stomach.

You know what he means, after all that oral and fingering, you know he isn't gonna be satisfied with only just that.

But your not ready.

You don't when you'll ever be ready.

Especially when it comes to him.

"Miguel....Look Im not-"

"You know I don't like repeating myself." You froze as he stopped his kisses but instead looked up to you with impatience written on his face.

Usually, you would avoid it and just follow after him.

But this is different.

"I-I know Miguel but-"

"Good, so you know what to do."

Your hands started shaking without you noticing.

You didn't know how long you've been standing there, but It seemed to get the attention of Miguel.

His hands started caressing your body even more, rubbing over your forearms, up to your back, until your legs.

That seemed to ground you a bit.

"First times are scary, hm? Don't worry, bebita, I'll be gentle."

You somehow highly doubt that.

You try to inhale and exhale, although it was shaky, it still did the job.

You still didn't say anything but Miguel took it as a cue to pull you to the bed until your completely layed down.

You can't help but feel your body tense.

This is it.

You're gonna lose your virginity to the person you hate.

Miguel, didn't waste time to get on top of you. He placed both arms between your head and admired you.

"Te ves tan hermosa el día que te conocí." (you look as beautiful the day I met you.)

You hate yourself for blushing at his words, you turned your head away to hide it.

"Aww, don't go all shy on me."

His thumb and index finger gripped your chin gently to make you face him.

His lips carressed yours in a passionate kiss, gentle yet impatient, loving but fierce.

If you're gonna lose your first time with this man, you might as well enjoy it.

You kissed back, and he couldn't hold back a small, muffled moan.

After a few seconds, he finally pulled back, both of you catching your breath.

He lifted his hands and pulled off his shirt of him. Next was his pants, leaving him in boxers.

The moonlight from the window highlighted his muscles, shadows dancing around both of you.

His hands quickly returned to caressing your body and lifted up to your chest to undo the bra.

"I should get you more of this, maybe in dark blue next, maybe even white..." He rambled as he finally took off your bra and threw it somewhere of the floor.

He leaned down to kiss your jaw, then your neck, until your collarbone where he started sucking, making sure to leave multiplr marks.

"O-oh...Miguel." You softly whined.

"Shhh....Déjame cuidarte" (Let me take care of you)

He continued trailing kisses and leaving marks until you felt his mouth on your pert nipple.

"Ah! Mig!-" Your hand automatically goes to land on his soft hair.

Your small yelps and moan continue as he sucks and slightly glides his teeth on your tits.

He lets go of your tit and does the same treatment with the other one.

You can't help but feel wetter from his actions.

You whimpered as he let's go and started trailing kisses again, leading more and more toward your region.

He lifts his head slightly to remove your panties, but not without admiring the wet spot on it, he groans at the sight.

Without further ado, he removes it and tosses it to the same place with the bra, leaving you with the garterbelt and stockings.

He didn't waste time diving to taste your slick with a big swipe of his tongue on your slit.

"Mmhm! Miguel!" Your hand gripped his hair while he continued his actions making you wet and wetter.

His own moans are muffled as he sucks on your clit.

Your moans did nothing but grew louder, making him more encouraged to put a finger in you, thrusting slowly.

You moan louder as you feel his index and middle finger curl up, hitting your spot successfully.

You suddenly feel your body tensing up more and more and you know what's coming.

"F-f-fuck, Migu-." You tried warning him, but it was too late, for the tension in your body snapped and you came.

Miguel licked and sucked more, not wanting to waste a single drop.

While you tried catching your breath, Miguel sat up and took off his boxers.

You look down and gulp. You already had experienced how hard it was to deep throat that thing. You're now nervous how your gonna take it in.

Miguel sensed your rising hesitation.

"Shhh...Its okay, its okay." He rubbed circles on your thighs and started undoing the garterbelt and removing your stockings, tossing them onto floor like everything else, leaving you completely naked.

"Respira hondo para mí, mi amor." (Deep breaths for me, my love)

You inhaled deeply, and Miguel took this chance to shove his tip into you.

You loudly yelp in pain, and your hands came around your body, and lips kissed your forehead.

"You're doing great, so great. No, no, don't cry, mi amor. You're doing great." Miguel continued reassuring you.

You didn't even notice that tears were coming down. You were too busy focusing on the harsh stretch you're experiencing. Sure, his fingers were something too, but it doesn't compare to his dick.

Minutes ticked by, and he thrusted a little more of his length in you, making you both hiss from the feeling.

"Ohhuhgg, fuck your tight.." Miguel groaned to your ear making you squirm.

You didn't want to look down, fearing how much was still isn't in you.

Few more minutes and you feel yourself loosen up more.

But Miguel is never known for patience.

He tried really, believe him but the feeling of your cunt sucking him in as if he's gonna disappear, just does things to him.

It doesn't help you're a virgin. His long, unfulfilled fantasy is finally coming true.

With that, he thrusted the rest of his length in you.

You screamed and moaned in pain, both pleasure and discomfort mixing together.

Miguel, on the other hand, moaned, his words slurred, mixing both English and Spanish together.

Your hands came gripped onto his back, and your nails scratching him, making Miguel hiss even more.

Miguel lifted himself up using his elbows to look down at you.

You couldn't get anymore beautiful can you?

Moonlight accentuated your features, your tears and sweat shine among it.

He couldn't help himself but kissed you deeply. Ingrating the taste and feeling of you.

"So good, so so good for me."

His hips started moving and he could swore you felt wetter and warmer this time.

He looked down to see the bedsheets stained with red, much deeper than your lingerine.

He finally did it.

He finally took you for himself.

You, on the other hand, can't focus much except for the pain that's blooming between your legs.

"Mig....It hurts..." You whimpered weakly.

"Shh, I know... I know, mi vida, just stay with me, yeah?" He kissed your forehead and leaned in so your foreheads were touching together, making you feel more emotional than ever.

Miguel soon felt you loosen up more and took that as a cue to thrust back and forth.

Your moans did nothing but spur him to thrust even faster.

Before you know it, his hips are slamming into you, making you both hear the wet slaps.

Miguel's grunts and your moans mix together into one, filling the room with it.

The bed creaks with the strength Miguel puts in his thrusts.

His dick reached places you didn't know existed in your making you arch your back when he continued hitting that one spot continues.

"FfUck!, Miguel, right- AH! There! Right there!"

Miguel listened as he thrusted into the spot that made you see starts.

"Te amo mucho. Dilo por favor, por favor." (Love you, so, so much. Say it, please,please)

His hips slowed down and you whimpered.

"I-I loveee you t-too" you weakly said but it was enough for Miguel.

He kissed you deeply while he thrusted faster and deeper this time making your eyes roll at the back.

Both of your bodies started feeling tense, and hips ploughed into you harder.

"Cum with me, cumwith me, cumwithme cumwithme cumwithmecumwi- SHI- FUCKING HELL, oh mierda eso es todo."

"MIIGUELL!"

The tension finally snapped as your fingers scratched harder at the back of Miguel.

Miguel couldn't careless when your cunt felt significantly tighter, milking him for all his worth.

Both your breaths are heavy. And bodies feel numb from the activities.

After catching your breath, your body feels tired, and your eyelids are weighing down.

Without knowing you felt asleep, ignoring the pain and the pleasure as you finally drifted off.

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It took a good minute for Miguel to finally gather his bearings.

He looked at you with nothing but admiration as your breath levels out while you sleep.

After a few more minutes, he cleaned you off with a damp towel and checked your body for any damages.

After confirming none major injuries, he finally lay down next to you.

He finally did it.

Got the person of his dreams.

Aside from challenges and tribulations.

He did it.

He has you in his arms all tucked in.

Took your first kiss.

Took your first time.

And finally, took you as a person.

And it felt nothing to him but Child's Play.

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A/N: We finally did it! I can't say im proud of this one tho, but thank you for those who supported me throughout the making of Child's Play.

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 #tw yandere #tw yancore #tw bullying #miguel smut #tw dubious consent #tw noncon #ftm nsft #tw threats

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flashy-ish · 2 months

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Mm having a best friend with icky parents. Their dad pulls you in for a hug at the door, pushing your soft body against his hard on. Whose hands rest on your ass during a hug that's a little too long and guides you into the arms of his lovely wife who waste no time giving you a kiss on the cheek and pulling you into her breast.

Clearly they're just being friendly.

A Mommy who says you've really grown, smacks you on the butt and says "that package is really coming nice now huh darling?" You get flustered and try to respond but notice she's looking more towards her husband than at you.

A best friend who puts something in your water bottle that makes you warm and loopy and so so empty. A mommy who tells her husband to gently sit your writhing form on the bed so she can get a better look at you. She coos and says, "poor baby" as she slowly strips you down. A daddy who kneads your skin and inches closer and closer to your special place. Who holds your legs open while you whine confused and try to close them.

The need to be coerced into sucking on her big tits as your friend's dad begins to grind his cock against your ass. You feel so warm and you should really try and get some water you think, but you're held in place as you nurse, and she calls you such a good pet. The want to have her sit on your face as her husband fucks your sopping wet pussy.

Eventually they leave you be. Used and in tears naked on the bed and you're left to watch as they make love with each other. Dazed, confused, and covered in cum. The mom stood you before you doze off though.

"Darling, be a dear and clean us up why don't you?"

#dumbification #tw dubcon #tw noncon #daddy's little one #piss kink #mezzy writes #r@pe fantasy #daddy's good girl #dirty fantasy #humiliating kink #mommy's little girl #imagines #send r@p3 threats <3 #r@pe k!nk

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n4sty-puppy · 9 days

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sitting in my living room trying to ignore how bad im fucking throbbing rn but its so fucking bad like pleasepleaseplease im home alone n everything smh why isnt anyone breaking in to grope n r4pe me while forcing me to get drunk and high and play video games so i cant pay attention to them while they use my cunt however they want :((((

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frsmkunt · 2 months

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Having your cock in between my tits will be the only thing I would want to ask for. That will be the greatest favor you would be doing on me.

I want your length buried deep in my cunt when we sleep. I want you to spoon me and make me feel warm in your embrace.

I accept I am a slut and my existence doesn't mean shit but even the wicked deserves love so what should I be shying away from?

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digenerate-trash · 6 months

Note

Yan robin watching a sex tape of yan bailey with PC

100% traumatizing MF gonna cry all day trying to convince himself that it’s just a bad dream

Bro, you're such a sick fuck and I'm so here for it. You deserve this.

AMAB Robin | GN PC

Robin holds his breath as he breaks into Bailey's office. It wasn't easy. But he had to... he had to erase your file off the computer and his too. And then he can take you out of this town and away from Bailey and his crazy controlling behavior.

Bailey has been all over you lately. Locking your door at night demanding you pay more rent than necessary. Demanding your time every morning and night and even on school days. Robin was sick of the caretaker's "special attention." And today he was gonna take the first step into helping you escape.

Robin takes a seat in Bailey's chair. It creaks making him jump but he shakes it off. Everyone's asleep... there's no way anyone heard that...

Robin continues opening the computer and using the USB he got from Mickey to Crack the password and break into the old computer. The soft blue light flickers on and Bailey's home screen pops up... bailey's computer is more organized then Robin thought and finding your file is easy.

Robin looks over the numerous notes and offers over you. Prices and profiles and matches... and videos...

Curiosity overwhelms Robin as he clicks on one of the videos labeled with a generic string of numbers.

It starts tame. You're asleep in the camera view. The camera zooms in on your face as you snore into your pillow. You twitch a bit and the camera shakes as if the person filming was startled. It ends shortly after that.

Robin considers downloading that one. He loves your face when you're asleep. So peaceful and cute. He drags the file out and opens up Bailey's email to send it to himself. There's more video and Robin decides to save the good ones before he deletes them forever.

They're mostly of you asleep. But there are some with you in Bailey's office. Most of the time you're just being yourself. Sometimes you crying... robin still saves those...

Until one video with an actual name pops up... it's the last one in the file... "virginity" ... robin holds his breath as he hovers the mouse over it. He doesn't know what's on this one... but he can imagine... and the image isn't good.

He still clicks on it.

It starts normally. More footage of you asleep. But this time the camera is set on your bedside table and within a moment calloused rough hands grab you. One covers your mouth and the other goes to your throat they squeeze around you as you startle awake and begin to panic.

Robin can tell your attacker is Bailey. The tattoos are a dead giveaway as he continues to attack you. You're screaming and thrashing at first trying to beat Bailey off but he threatens to break your neck and you stop... robin leans closer to the screen his eyebrows furrowed as he silently begs you to keep fighting as Bailey thrusts into you.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you look up at him you don't even see the camera... you don't know Bailey is filming you. Saving this moment for later...

You let out soft pleas whimpers and occasional moans as Bailey handles you roughly. Robin can barely stand it as he watches it all go down but he's unable to tear his eyes away.

The thrusting stops and Bailey chuckles a bit off screen robin can't see his face but he knows that bastard his grinning as his hands leave your throat. "I guess I do own you," Bailey says. He reaches out for the camera and the video ends.

Robin is hyperventilating he can't even possess what he just saw but suddenly his plans to leave this place crumble. He turns off the computer and rushes out back to his room holding his mouth and nose closed as he gets back into his bed. He closes his eyes and tries to think of anything else but the image of you is stuck in his mind. Bailey's voice as he taunted and raped you. Robin can't think of anything worse. He bites down on his fingers and presses his other hand into his pants to his hard-on.

He knows it's wrong to jerk off to the image of you being violated. Much less with Bailey. But he can't help it...

Tomorrow morning he'll just pretend this never happened. He'll forget what he saw. He'll suppress it. And he'll even be the perfect boyfriend.

But tonight he's just as bad as Bailey as he fucks his fist and thinks of your face in that video.

#tw rape #tw violence #tw death threats #tw choking #tw noncon #tw stalking #tw stalking behavouir #bailey the caretaker #robin the orphan #yan dol #yandere #tw yandere #yandere tropes #x reader #gn reader

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so-long-soldier-writes · 8 months

Text

Stormy Weather

kai parker x reader

summary: the rule is always the same: thirty minutes after it storms, kai can spend some time outside. that's when most people are still in their homes and it's too muddy for the children to go out yet. though this time, his father bends the rule, just a little, and lets his son out one wet, chilly afternoon. it just so happens that something bad is about to go down at that very same time, and luckily, kai is there to protect her.

tags: abusive parents, self-harm, one line about suicidal thoughts, blood, aspd / sociopathy, minor blood tasting, non-graphic violence, threats of r4pe / noncon (nothing actually happens), threats of violence, high school bullies, kai gets protective, kai loves his sister, a few cuss words, stabbing, hurt / comfort, happy-ish ending

word count: 3.3k

a/n: i made a post about this, but so many of my works lately have had dark themes; i'm going through it right now... i'm trying to write more fluffy things because i think we could all use some fluff, so if anyone has ideas, let me know! ♥

It had rained the night before. Dew is left on the grass and there is a chilliness in the October air. That afternoon, the children don’t want to put their jackets on to go outside, nor does their mother feel like cleaning them up after an hour in the yard. They opt to stay inside instead, occupied by books and puzzles.

That’s why Kai is allowed to take a walk down to the end of the road. Usually, he could only go out moments after the storm, when it is cold, and wet, and the children are still too scared from the thunder. And while Kai loves storms, he doesn’t so much like being in them. Today is different. His parents are letting him out nearly a whole fraction of a day later. He is grateful for that, even if that choice is only a result of his siblings’ resistance.

“Thirty minutes,” his father says, “and stay on the property.”

Kai nods. The property is huge, so that’s no problem. It accounts for a huge field, on which the house is built, a stone perimeter, a long driveway, and an edging of forest. Kai spends his time, thirty minutes per each post-storm, on every inch of the property. His favorite place, of course, being the woods. Oaks and firs ten times taller than himself create a canopy from the sun. Part of him feels like if the sun can’t see him, neither can his father. It is dark in the trees. Sticks crack as animals dodge back and forth. The woods terrify his siblings; they never go past the pine lining.

Kai, on the other hand, goes as deep into it as he can. The extent of the property ends just enough to block out the house. As soon as the wet, darkened trunks cover the sight of the white, country-esque looking house, he sits. His butt will be moist from the ground in a couple of seconds, but he’s come to care less about that.

A sigh escapes the boy’s lips as he stares into the great expanse before him. He’d love to explore more of it, but the fear of an active locator spell stops him. His father would never go into the woods after him, though he’d have a beating ready the moment he showed up back home. And trust him, Kai’s considered running away. He’s debated the pros and cons of trying. But when your family is a coven of witches, and the only world you know is your own property, Kai fears luck would not be on his side.

With another sigh and a need to take his mind off things, he pulls out a switchblade. It’s funny - he had found the knife in these very woods, kicking up dirt as a pastime. His father would never let him keep it if he knew, so he buries it in a hole in the tree against which he’s leaning. Kai admires the blade; the silver that looks back at him when he wipes off the dirt. Several times he’s considered using it as an escape from his life of hell. But if the blade is too dull or proves too small, it would be a pointless, reckless attempt.

He cuts his finger instead. Just a pin-prick on the edge of his pointer. Blood oozes and he watches it drip, down, down, down, until he touches it with his other finger. The knife is the furthest thing from clean, but Kai doesn’t care. The relief it brings is too important to him. It’s a distraction from the pain in his mind, even if he feels a jolt in his spine with every cut.

Every cut, he thinks, bringing his attention to where to draw next. His mother would notice his wrist; his father would see his stomach. The last time, he picked his shoulder, but when his beating consisted of the man pulling him by the collar, it risked exposure. Kai scans his body, eyes eventually landing on his belt. Neither parent ever saw below it, thank god for that.

Kai stands up, hilt of the knife in between his teeth. He unbuckles his belt quietly, acknowledging the metal clashes are the only sound echoing throughout the words. It makes him feel dirty, though he had never done that out here. Kai shakes his head to clear his mind. A drop of water drips from his head, down his cheek. He hadn’t felt it fall from the tree. It feels like a tear, though that’s an unfamiliar feeling; Kai was fourteen the last time he remembers crying. He’s eighteen now, and feels most of his emotions like a weight in his chest. They’re there, mostly in the form of nauseating pain, but he doesn’t feel anything sharply enough to cry about it. A stark contrast to his little brother, Caleb, who cries over anything and everything.

The boy bites his cheek. He lowers his jeans just enough to find a good spot. Right below his briefs, maybe, where the skin’s not so thin he’ll bleed to death. As tempting as the thought is, a slow death isn’t the way he wants to go out, especially if he’s not sure it would kill him. Kai takes a deep breath, then readies the knife against his thigh. He starts with a small cut, but graduates at the sight of blood being released. A longer, deeper one is made directly under it. It hurts, but as the weight in his chest eases with every drop on his skin surface, he can’t stop. Kai makes a third, and then instinctively reaches out to catch a bit from his second cut before it can stain his jeans. It runs down his leg, threatening the denim that his mother would surely see in her weekly rotation of washes - the woman demands to do his. Whether that’s his father’s order or of her own accord, Kai doesn’t know.

He stares at the blood, both that on his finger and what gathers on his thigh. He can feel the pain - a sharp stinging now, a dull throbbing later - and lets it in in place of his emotions. The heaviness in his chest is replaced by the harsh sensation, and as gruesome as it is, it’s something he much prefers.

Kai stands still as the blood dries in the place he left it. In another minutes’ time, he’ll scrape it off, then pick his nails with his teeth. Again, dirty. Gruesome. He’s stopped caring. He’s all alone out here anyway.

When the time comes, he does just that. Dried blood collects under his nails, and then the dark red substance meets his tongue. His taste buds are overwhelmed with the rich, metallic taste. He’s not sure if he hates it or loves it.

At age twelve, his historical studies consisted of lore. Aunt Maggie would visit him and Jo every Tuesday and Thursday to teach them about it. The two were homeschooled, like every other child in the coven, and taught by their elders. One particular week, Aunt Maggie hit the topic of vampires. His father told her to touch it lightly. Kai overhead the reasoning, though he didn’t understand it. “The boy is a siphon,” he reminded, “we don’t need to repeat old mistakes.”

But whatever old mistake it was, Kai wasn’t bothered. He was used to being called a mistake, and figured that’s what his father meant. Kai then listened to his Aunt tell the lore, and the stories, but that’s all he ever thought they were. Now, at eighteen, Kai still isn’t sure what he thinks. Maybe vampires are real; maybe they aren’t. Maybe they are monsters. Maybe they’re just people burdened by the pain in their lives; people who express that pain differently, and are seen as abominations for it.

Kai wonders if that makes him one. For dealing with his pain by cutting it out of his skin. For licking his own blood when it drips from his wounds.

What would he know? He’s never seen one.

After two more minutes, Kai finally pulls his pants back up. He starts to fumble with the belt, knife back in his mouth, when he suddenly stops. A wind blew past his ear, carrying the faint cry of a girl. He listens for a moment, but upon hearing nothing new, goes back to his previous feat. Kai turns to the tree to hide his knife. The wicked laughter of a group is heard in the distance. The shuffling of leaves. Another feminine whine.

The pieces puzzle themselves in Kai’s mind, and he arms himself with his knife once more. To check the sound out, at the very least. To scare them off his property, maybe, or just to scare them.

Kai treads carefully through the woods, knowing where to step to conceal his identity. A skill his new friends don’t seem to have. He approaches until he comes across a circle of boys. His age, but bulkier - better fed - and slightly taller. The way they stand looks as if they’re trying to cower over someone - a sight Kai doesn’t appreciate, having been the one forced into submission over a hundred times in his life. One rattles off an insult. Another kicks his leg out.

“Please stop,” the broken voice of a girl he can’t see enters his ears. She’s in the circle, he supposes. Kai watches a little longer, trying to decide how the situation makes him feel.

A boy barks in laughter at her plea. He mocks it, then bends down to grab her. With brute strength, he lifts her by her shirt collar and pins her to the tree behind her. Her hair gathers around her, bouncing from the force. Tears sting her eyes, yet she’s brave enough to not let them fall.

“You’re not going anywhere until we’re done with you,” he says, head pointed down to her chest.

Suddenly, the girl reminds him of Jo. Beautiful, brave. Bound to end up in a situation like this, because sometimes she’s just a little too trusting. Despite their forbearance from each other’s company, Kai loves his sister. He misses her visits, when she used to sneak into his room to play when they were children. He misses her touches, those she’d steal in defiance of their father’s direct order. It wasn’t until recent years that they drifted apart. The babies took her attention away, and she slowly morphed into a daddy’s girl. Doing right by him became her mission, which meant leaving Kai behind to rot in his room alone.

Still, Kai loves her. As best he can, at least, as he feels each emotion he ever knew bury itself inside his soul. An overwhelming darkness conceals them, blackens them, and replaces them with nothing but the dense weight.

Another cry escapes her lips, freeing Kai from the entrancement of his memories. The boy’s hand creeps up her sides, under her shirt. Soft skin is exposed as he bunches up a handful of the material. He pulls, and his friends egg him on. They’re just as vile as he is.

Kai gives away his position with a crack of a stick. Six pairs of eyes whip around to face him. He leans against a tree, teasing the knife between his fingers. There’s a silent standoff for a moment, until one of them speaks.

“What are you doing here?”

“Me? This is my property. I think the better question is, ‘what are you doing here’?”

“Run along home then. This is none of your business.”

Kai cocks his head. “Who’s she?”

“Also none of your business.”

The girl locks her eyes on Kai. She stares, hoping he’ll meet her gaze. Finally, he does, and he can confirm she’s not there on her own accord.

“Y’know, my father has a lot of rage. He won’t like knowing that little high school boys are taking advantage of young girls on his property.”

“What’s he gonna do? Shoot us?”

“Maybe.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” Another of them challenges. “He’s not here. And we could easily take you.”

Kai steps forward. As he does, the supposed leader tightens his hold on the girl. Fear flashes in her eyes like a fire. Kai isn’t threatened, though. He keeps his eye on her, while moving to stand in between the group. They all watch him cautiously.

“Let her go.”

“No.”

“Let her go, or I’ll fucking stab you in the neck,” he replies calmly.

The boy wavers, but doesn’t let up. “You wouldn’t.”

Kai flicks the knife in his hand again, then points it at each of the boys. “Get the fuck out of here. I’m not asking again.”

Another minute. Suddenly, one of them bolts. He races through the forest at seemingly mach speed, barreling into trees and weeds as he goes. The one that was closest to him then follows.

“Hey!” The boy in charge yells. “You pussies!” He turns back to Kai. “You’re full of shit, I’m not afraid of you.”

Kai doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to - the glare in his eyes does it for him.

“Y’know, Thomas, maybe we should go,” one of the remaining four mutters. “She isn’t worth it.”

“We’ve had this planned for weeks and you assholes are bailing because of some skinny kid with a three inch knife.”

The girl’s face pales at his words. Kai’s jaw tenses.

How easily Jo could be a target just for being beautiful.

The boys shuffle their feet, but none of them move. Thomas, the one within spitting distance of Kai, stares back at him. A smirk curls on the edge of his lips. It’s at that moment that Kai decides he’s had enough. One graceful stride lands him close enough to jab the knife into his neck. The boy had no time to react, but does so now by releasing the girl and grabbing at the wound. His friends shriek in terror. They jump around uselessly, having no clue what to do. Kai steps back and grabs the girl before she falls. To his surprise, she lets him. Her face buries in his chest as she tries to find her own strength.

The boy, rather stupidly, pulls out the handle and throws it at Kai’s feet. “You’re fucking crazy!” He screams, as if Kai didn’t already know that. He takes one more look at the emotionless boy, then the girl gathered in his arms, and runs off into the woods. His friends scamper after him, not wanting the same fate. In thirty seconds’ time, the woods are silent again.

“Are you okay?” He whispers, still holding her. It’s a weird feeling to him, to have a girl in his arms. Kai isn’t sure how long he’s supposed to hold her, or comfort her. He doesn’t really know what to say, either.

She remains quiet for a few heartbeats longer, but then nods. Her head moves against his chest until she finally looks up at him. “Thank you.”

He only looks at her.

“Are you okay?” She asks back.

This confuses him. “What?”

“You stabbed him.”

“Oh.” Kai shrugs. “I’m fine.”

She straightens her posture, maybe to read him better. “Not a fan of bullies, I take it? Do you have your own at school?”

“I’m homeschooled.”

“Oh.” She looks down into the fallen leaves. Her eyes trace the forest floor, and then she takes a few steps back to grab something lying in them. His knife. She hands it to him. “Well, thank you anyway.”

Kai nods. Then, for whatever reason, he gives her a small truth. “My father.”

“What?”

“Not a fan of bullies.”

“Your father? The one you mentioned, with the rage… he bullies you?”

“Something like that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

She takes another step towards him. “It’s not fine.”

“There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“I understand,” she says, reaching up to brush her thumb against his cheek. Kai flinches. “I’m sorry.” Her hand recoils, but he catches it.

“Don’t apologize. I’m just not used to it.”

She then takes a seat on the forest floor, patting the spot next to her. “Sit with me?”

Kai figures he still has ten minutes before he must go home, so he does. It’s quiet for a little while. They listen to the wind in the trees and feel the chill at their backs. Both enjoy the others’ company, neither fortunate enough to have it often.

But the girl then breaks the silence by tucking her knees into her chest. The leaves crinkle around them, and Kai’s attention shoots to her movement.

“I can’t believe he said he was planning that for weeks,” she mutters.

“Do you know him?”

“I know of him. He’s the quarterback at my school. I’m the girl that eats alone. Why would he target me?”

“Because you’re beautiful,” Kai blurts out. She looks at him, and he suddenly wonders if that comment warrants an apology after what she’s been through. “Sorry. I meant that as, like… Not in a creepy way.” Okay, that was worse. “You remind me of my sister,” he finally says.

“I do?”

He nods. “She’s beautiful, too, and too kind for her own good.”

“She sounds sweet. Are you guys close?”

“Not anymore.”

“Oh.”

“My family’s kind of fucked up.”

“That makes two of us.”

Kai looks at her. It’s nice to hear that someone relates. Of course, not nice for her, but there is a comfort in knowing he’s not completely alone.

“If those boys ever give you shit again, come back here. I live around that field at the edge of the trees. You look like Jo. My father will protect you if he sees you need help.”

She nods. “What about you? Where will you be?”

“In my room. Unless you catch me on a day where I’m allowed out.”

“Which is?”

“Thirty minutes after every storm. Because my mother doesn’t want to clean the mud off my baby brother’s clothes.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Like I said.” He then turns to her. “But I’m serious. If they come after you, go to the field.”

“Because I look like Jo,” she confirms.

Kai nods.

“Thank you.” She takes a deep breath. “I should be heading back soon. My parents care less about me, but still don’t want me out late.”

“A statement to which I relate too much.”

“Will I see you again maybe? Perhaps after the next storm?”

“You’d want to see me again?” He’s for sure she’d be terrified of him after earlier events.

“It’s not everyday a cute boy stabs my bully with a knife.” She smiles.

“Okay.” She’s different. Not at all like he’d expect her to be, if he were to only judge her by her smile and bright, kind eyes. Of course, most people are able to hide their pain behind a well-designed mask. Only a small fraction become neck-stabbing sociopaths.

Despite that, though, she isn’t afraid of him. If anything, she seems more curious.

“Okay,” she beams. “Bye…”

“Kai.”

“Y/N,” she offers in return.

“Y/N,” he tastes her name on his tongue. Her eyes light up at the sound of her name reverberating off his lips.

She smiles, and then out of nowhere, leans forward to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, again, Kai. You don’t know how thankful I am that you were here.” And with that, she’s off.

Kai stares after her in a stunned silence. Her lips still tingle on his cheek. His skin feels hot to the touch, warming him up despite the passing breeze.

It takes a couple heartbeats for him to come back to his senses. By that time, she’s lost to the forest, gone, and only in his memories. He hikes back to his tree to put his knife back in its spot, then makes his way home. He’ll see her again, hopefully. Next storm, she’ll be there. She’ll become more than just a memory, but maybe a comfort as well. A friend.

#kai parker x reader #malachai parker x reader #tvd fanfiction #kai parker angst #tw s3lf h4rm #tw minor violence #tw noncon threat - but nothing happens

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puppyfleshlight · 4 days

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bf givin mi a drink at a concert, tellin mi its jus juice so i shld drink th whole tingf! so i do bc is so hot n been standin so long but then i start 2 feel woozy n cant stand straight n hv 2 cling on2 him n he’s jus tellin evry1 i drank wayyyyy 2 much n whn th band comes on, he presses mi against th railin, flippin up m skirt n shovin himslf inside mi n no one can hear m cries bc music is 2 loud n he’s whisperin in m ear abt how much i like this n how he can feel mi clenchin arnd him hehe (´∀｀)♡

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lowlifesymptoms · 1 year

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john in some peril :)

#john walker #us agent #tfatws #i just like to think about him getting wrecked #tw noncon #tw assault #tw threats of rape

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the-whumpening · 20 days

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The Pet Tiger, #8 [nsfwhump AU]

Prev | Masterpost | Next

CW: Dehumanization, treated as a pet, threats of/references to violence and/or noncon, humiliation, pet whump, pet training, noncon touching (groping and non-sexual), forced use of buttplug (not graphic), emotional abuse, alcohol, multiple whumpers, noncon alcohol use and/or drugging, “it” as a pronoun, references to starvation/hunger

(Extra-long chapter)

Note at the end for added context

8: Humiliation

“Still like a statue—yes, that’s it. Very good.”

Ash’s chin lifts pliantly at Ozmund’s guiding touch, elegantly stretching his neck to the perfect position. The faint tinkling of the thin chain connecting his collar and manacles jingles in his sensitive ears.

Something doesn’t feel right. All the sounds around him—Ozmund’s voice, the chains, the servants bustling about as they finish their preparations—they feel so far away, as if he’s underwater. His vision, too, swims in and out of focus; his eyes are glazed and drift without his control. And yet, his body moves with perfect precision, exactly as Ozmund instructs.

“Whuh,” Ash slurs, his breath heavy in his chest and mouth unresponsive. “Whuh di’ you do t’me?”

For once, Ozmund seems surprised. “Oh! Oh, little cat, I didn’t expect you to fight so hard to stay alert. You seemed so anxious about your debut, I thought I would soothe you with a simple charm spell. Just a little drowsiness, to keep you calm and happy.”

He crouches down to Ash, who kneels on a floor cushion of expensive silk. His hypnotic eyes scan Ash’s drooping face; despite his best efforts, Ash can’t pull his head away from Ozmund’s grasp.

“I don’ like it . . .” Ash mumbles. “I wan’ . . . Wanna be awake.”

Ozmund furrows his brow in concern. “Oh, pet. Are you sure you want that? I fear you’d be dreadfully bored. A party for academics and elites is no place for your pretty little empty head.” A smirk curls one half of his mouth, a menacing gleam returning to his eye. “Besides, my guests may not be as kind to you as I have been, darling. Do you really want to remember all of this?”

The comforting pull of the spell tugs at the edges of Ash’s consciousness. Would it be better to be like this—easily manipulated, but unaware? Or to make his own choices, and remember every single one? Ash is becoming increasingly familiar with Ozmund’s twisted, hot-and-cold “kindness”—what more can he expect from these strangers?

“Choose quickly, little cat,” Ozmund coos into his ear. “They should be arriving any minute now.”

Ash’s pulse thuds in his ears, still drowned beneath the muffling of the spell. His breath hitches as he gathers his courage. Pressing hard into his chest, he forces out his answer:

“M-make. It. Ssstop.” At the warning raise of Ozmund’s brow, he tacks on, “P . . . Please.”

Ozmund chuckles incredulously and shakes his head. “You’re either very brave, pet, or very arrogant. Either way, this shall be most entertaining.”

His fingertips brush along Ash’s cheekbones, a chill following in their wake. As he removes his hand, the fog lingering in Ash’s brain leaves with it, and he can think clearly once again. All at once, he’s bombarded with signals from his body: the hungry ache in his stomach, the cramp of his thighs, the insistent stretch of the plug in his backside. He doesn’t recall when that happened—how long was he under that spell? What else has he forgotten?

“Now that you’re awake, my dear, don’t forget our agreement,” Ozmund reminds him in a low murmur. “If you embarrass me, disobey me, or disrespect my guests, well . . .” He holds Ash’s throat in his hand, squeezing just tight enough to slow his breath. “You’ll wish you had stayed blissfully ignorant.”

In the abstract, Ash had been aware that Ozmund is something of a socialite. He’s old enough, rich enough, and powerful enough to attract the attention of aristocrats no matter where he goes. He’d even hosted Evius and the party at his estate when they visited so long ago; it only follows he’d also entertain his own upper-echelon peers. And yet, somehow the thought had never crossed Ash’s mind.

A part of him had hoped that some of the guests might object to his plight. Even just one person. But as he watches the guests file in, not a single one even balks at his presence. Some even seemed . . . eager at the sight of him. He’s grateful the gathering isn’t terribly large—only a handful of Weavers and politicians. With a small enough group, he can easily keep track of everyone and watch his own back. Still, he’s glad he bargained to be freed of Ozmund’s spell. The floating, fuzzy heaviness would’ve made it impossible to protect himself, especially seeing the sinister grins on some of the guests . . . He tries not to linger on the possibilities.

Ozmund wasn’t entirely wrong, though: during dinner, much of the conversation flies over his head, and he finds his attention wandering. From his cushion beside Ozmund’s feet, his line of sight intersects mostly with the tabletop and its bounty of food. Fresh, hot, steaming food. Meat and cheese and fruit and bread: his stomach lurches at the smells, wishing to leap from his gut and stuff itself full. He can feel saliva pool in his mouth from the scents alone. When had he last eaten? He recalls a scrap of some exotic vegetable from Ozmund’s lunch yesterday, barely a bite. What he wouldn’t give for meat. Raw, bloody, falling apart in his hands and running down his chin—

Raucous laughter from the rest of the table jolts him back to his senses, and he realizes a bead of drool is threatening to leak from his lips. He surreptitiously pulls it back into his mouth, praying he hadn’t been caught. But as he scans the faces at the table for any signs of recognition, a woman in with snake-like skin catches his eye. She smiles at him—in any other circumstance, he’d almost call it warm or friendly—before turning her attention to her host.

She looks familiar, Ash realizes. He stealthily sniffs the air, honing in on her scent among the distracting, scintillating aromas of food. Not dead, yet not quite alive. Not human, yet not quite anything else. He knows this smell; he’s certain of it. But from where?

“Oz,” she starts, resting her chin playfully in her hands. “You know how impatient I am. Won’t you introduce us to your newest little experiment? We’ve all been dying to meet it. I mean, that was the point of this whole little affair, wasn’t it?”

The voice, too, tugs at Ash’s memory. Who is she?

Although he can’t see Ozmund’s face, Ash can feel the tension roll off him in waves: annoyance. Judging by the smug shift in the woman’s expression, Ash assumes that must have been her goal. How powerful must this woman be to openly pester someone like Ozmund in his own home? Ash makes a mental note to keep his distance from her, especially if they crossed paths before.

“Alright, alright,” Ozmund concedes with a strained chuckle. “If Lady Nandaar insists, then I suppose I must oblige. Shall we adjourn to the drawing room, then? I’ve got a fabulous dwarven spiced wine ready for tasting—I’m told it’s been aged for 1500 years.”

Of course, Lady Nandaar: the widowed queen of Nightstone. Heat rises in Ash’s cheeks as he recalls how he and Evius had danced together in the town square to earn their lodging for the night—back when he wore next to nothing for his own comfort instead of Ozmund’s sick fetish. And Nandaar had been there, watching from the sidelines with hungry eyes. How had she changed so much, and why was she among Ozmund’s confidants? If she remembers him . . . Would she help him escape?

Murmurs of excitement rumble through the group as they wander from the dining room to the adjoining parlor. Dazed and lost in his thoughts, Ash is yanked to his feet by the length of chain attaching his collar to his wrists. His legs scream in protest as blood rushes back to his numb muscles. Ozmund steadies him with one hand below his elbow and the other around his waist—gentle, almost the same way one would hold a lover. With his balance restored, Ash tries to pull back and stand on his own, but Ozmund cinches him closer to his chest.

“This is a big moment, my love,” he purrs, brushing his nose along Ash’s jaw to whisper in his ear. “Don’t forget your place.” With a soft, threatening press of his lips to Ash’s cheek, Ozmund loosens his grip and resumes his chipper demeanor.

He snaps his fingers, and a ghostly green hand grasps Ash’s chains to guide him behind his master.

As they enter the drawing room, the crowd turns to watch. Ash can feel dozens of eyes scanning every inch of his exposed skin, like a swarm of insects descending on a carcass. It’s a stark contrast from the other times he’s been before a crowd. In the past, he’d paid no mind to the eyes at all—he could only ever focus on Evius, completely lost in the moment. But now, his hands still held firmly in place by the magic bindings, he just wishes he could scrub the sensation away.

Ozmund stands before the group, ushering Ash on a small dais in front of the fireplace. With a grand bow, he addresses the crowd. “Good evening, friends, colleagues, and purveyors of all things mysterious and rare. As the good Lady has so kindly pointed out”—he shoots a glance at Nandaar, feigning humor at her smug grin—“I’ve gathered you here tonight to delight in my newest acquisition.”

Ash tries to keep his expression as neutral as possible; there’s no telling what could set Ozmund off or encourage these strangers’ worst proclivities. Surviving the night is his only goal.

“This is Ash,” Ozmund continues, stepping up on the dais to grab and move Ash as he expounds on his strange heritage. “Half were-tiger—that is to say: a human infected with a certain strain of lycanthropy—and half full tiger. Of course, the poor, stupid thing made a deal with an Old One to change his appearance, so I’ve taken the liberty of returning him to his natural state, as it were, for the evening. Say hello to our guests, Ash.”

Biting back the bile in his sore stomach, Ash gruffly spoke. “Hello.”

Delighted chatter erupts from the crowd along with some scattered applause. One voice from the back asks, “Oh, he can speak?”

Ozmund laughs. “Well, he’s not exactly a conversationalist. But yes, he’s capable of speech. Feel free to ask him questions later—simple ones, please. He’s not the brightest fellow, and we’d hate to confuse him, wouldn’t we?” Ash grinds his teeth; if only they knew how hard he’d worked, how far he’d gone, just to be on the same playing field as his friends. Just to hold an intelligent conversation in the same language as Kane.

Ignoring the heat wafting from Ash’s face, Ozmund continues, “Research in the field has informed me he can communicate with his own kind as well—any type of feline, it seems. I’m led to believe other animals may be included, but we haven’t tested that theory just yet.”

More “oohs” and “aahs” from the crowd, and Ash fights the urge to roll his eyes and shake off Ozmund’s hand on his arm. Stay calm, stay calm, he repeats to himself. Lady Nandaar politely raises a hand and asks a question.

“Tell me, Oz: the physique is natural too, isn’t it? Or has it undergone conditioning to build its musculature?” There’s an underlying edge to her questions that Ash isn’t sure how to place. She eyes him hungrily, like a predator ready to pounce, but Ash isn’t quite sure if violence is what she has in mind. His hope for her assistance begins to flicker; what little kindness he thought he saw seems to have vanished.

“From what I can tell,” Ozmund replies, either oblivious to or dismissing the oddness, “it’s mostly natural. It seems he lived a wild, nomadic lifestyle for many years, which is perhaps also why his intelligence and social skills are stunted as well.” He gestures to the defined muscles of Ash’s stomach, now bulging from a lack of water. “Of course, a little dehydration and fat reduction helps to emphasize what’s already there. As you can imagine, I’ve had to keep him quite deprived.”

A man in lavish blue robes raises a hand as well. “Has that impacted his strength at all? If he’s part were-tiger, does he transform?” His voice warbles slightly. Fear.

At the hint of nervousness the man’s question draws from the crowd, Ash almost smirks. At least some of them still find him physically imposing, even in this humiliating state. Can he use that to his advantage? Intimidate someone into helping him? He churns the idea over in his mind, but his hope is cut short almost immediately.

Ozmund’s hand subtly pinches the back of Ash’s neck—a threat to him, a friendly gesture to the audience. “Oh, my, Chancellor. I wouldn’t dream of setting him loose among you all if he was dangerous! No, his chains keep him nice and docile; no need to worry.” Relieved laughter floats between the guests, and Ash can feel the air grow tense with their renewed confidence. “And besides, I’ve seen his rage transformations before: they’re not all that impressive. Claws and fangs, at most. All the were-tiger charm stayed with his father, I’m afraid. That’s what makes him such a unique specimen—so close to being human, and yet so very different. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

So he doesn’t know about that, Ash realizes. Maybe he does have a chance, after all.

Conversation bubbles as the guests grow more excited and impatient; the strong dwarven wine is already loosening their inhibitions. A few wander closer, emboldened to openly inspect him rather than simply stealing glances. Before he loses control of the crowd completely, Ozmund silences them with his hypnotic glare.

“Now, before I invite you all to return to the festivities and enjoy my little pet, let me clarify a few things. As his diet is rather strict at the moment, please limit how much food and drink you offer him. I should like to keep him a little needy—a little sober—so I can enjoy him myself properly later. You understand, I’m sure. There can only be one ‘first time,’ after all.”

“First time.” At the thought, Ash’s eyes drop unfocused to the floor, and he struggles to maintain his composure. Stay calm, stay fucking calm. If you don’t keep your cool, it’ll be ten times worse, he reprimands himself.

Lady Nandaar laughs, scoffing, “You mean to tell me you’ve had this strapping fellow for weeks and haven’t taken it yet? I have to wonder what you’ve been doing in the meantime!”

“As you said, my Lady, patience has never been your virtue—but it is one of mine. There’s no need to rush; I have all the time I could possibly need. Besides, like any pet, it’s imperative to set the groundwork for obedience: explaining my expectations, and demonstrating what happens if he disobeys. He learns quickly, but I do find him to be . . . stubborn at times. But as you’ll see, he’s free of marks and bruises from his punishments—that’s because of my patience.”

Ash remembers Ozmund’s “patience.” His patience to let Ash starve, his patience to train him for hours on end, his patience to wait until he was healthy again to resume his torture. It’s not patience out of mercy or virtue, it’s patience to force him to his breaking point again and again—rebuilding his resilience only to be stomped beneath Ozmund’s boot once more.

“Moderation, really, is what I ask of you all,” Ozmund continues, turning his attention away from Nandaar to instead stroke Ash’s hair. “This pet is . . . special. Feed him if you’d like, but only a bite. Give him wine, but only a sip. Mark him, touch him, use him as you please—but save the more ‘intimate’ activities for me. We don’t want to spoil his fun, do we?”

Laughter and raucous conversation flood Ash’s ears again as Ozmund escorts him off the dais and into the crowd. Although the guests politely part the way for Ozmund, hands still follow Ash, fingers brushing and grabbing and pinching at everything they can reach until he finally kneels on a cushion beside Ozmund’s chair.

If he could just have a moment without eyes on him, without hands or chains or this stupid, stupid collar—

“Oh, wow,” a familiar voice raises above the din of the crowd. “So you’re the one he caught, huh?”

Owen.

Note for context: Weavers = Semi-underground group of magical scholars. Known for abducting sorcerer children (or pressuring their parents to turn them over) to study their innate magic. Notoriously unethical and elitist.

Taglist:

@scoundrelwithboba @corbytheking @darke-phoenix515 @lumpofsand

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befuddled-calico-whump · 1 year

Text

Wildefire: The Worst Thing

cw: discussed/referenced prison whump and abuse; manipulative whumper, bluntly discussed noncon

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

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"What's the worst thing they did to you, Alexei?" Uriah was standing behind him, unwelcome hands light on his shoulders. The muscle there still ached from his most recent punishment.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Lex's answer was automatic. Flat words with no emotion behind them; flat hope that Uriah would let him walk away from this conversation.

"Of course you do," Uriah pressed, amusement in his voice. "You spent a year in the Tower. I want to hear about it. I want to know what you're so afraid of."

"Why?"

"When I ask you a question, I want an answer without having to explain myself."

Lex grit his teeth. "Why?" he repeated. He already knew the answer. Because I want to use it against you. Because I can.

Uriah clicked his tongue. "You won't like my answer," he said. "Or maybe you will. I think sending you back is too dramatic for a first offense, so I want something else. Something I can do to you when you step out of line."

(Brine, mine, spine.)

Of course Fox had the audacity to ask him to name this future punishment. Because why else would he bring it up, if he wasn't planning on using it? Lately it seemed like he'd been watching Lex like a hawk. Waiting for a slip up. A mistake. Defiance that was a shade too dark.

Uriah gave his shoulders a squeeze. "Alexei? I'm waiting."

"Beatings," he muttered, hoping it would be enough, knowing it wouldn't.

Sure enough, Uriah didn't relinquish his grip, instead giving a squeeze and letting out a short chuckle. "Really? Is that what you're so afraid of? Is that what's keeping you behaving? You're afraid to take a beating?" He leaned in. "You come back from half your assignments black and blue and unbothered. Tell me the truth."

(Booth, forsooth, uncouth.)

The truth. What the fuck was he supposed to say? There were worse days than others, there were worst days, but there was nothing about the Tower itself that could be replicated in a single punishment. It was the tiny, dark, empty cell. It was the guards, who could barge in at any fucking hour and do whatever they wanted to him. It was the uncertainty brought on by each day, not knowing if he was destined for a beating or a showing or being hauled blindfolded down the stairs to be abandoned with a rich stranger. It was the damned silence.

"Rentals," he tried again. It was close. It was vague. It was enough that Uriah could fill in the blanks and take his own fucking pick without dragging Lex into it.

"Rentals, hm?" Uriah said. "I know the program well."

No shocker there. Lex wouldn't be surprised if Uriah was one of the many shareholders who got a cut of Rentals' profits.

"What did you hate about Rentals then?"

"Blindfold," Lex answered shortly. (Cold, sold.)

"Only that? I suppose I understand it, but it's hardly enough to act as a behavioral deterrent." His mouth was millimeters from Lex's ear now, words hot on his skin, insistent. "And I don't believe you. Tell me."

Lex inhaled, hating the way his breath shook. He could lie. He could find something easier and hope Uriah took the bait, but deep down he knew it would never be enough.

"I think you know," he said hoarsely. "I think you already know. You just want me to fucking say it."

He swore he could feel the smile that crept across Uriah's face. "Maybe I do."

Lex swallowed. He felt like a statue, hard and frozen, muscles so tightly coiled he might explode. And that was exactly what Uriah wanted. Something he could punish. Because he liked the rush that came from flaunting his power over Lex, or because of pure sadism. It didn't matter. He wouldn't give the other man the satisfaction.

"They touched me," he spat. "Held me down when I couldn't fucking fight back." (Crack, hack, lack, track, smack.)

Uriah was silent, breath in his ear, hands still firm on his shoulders. Waiting for him to continue.

"I was whipped and then raped," Lex finally said, and even just the word felt like a razorblade on his tongue. That was what Uriah wanted. To force him to acknowledge it, to remember it, to understand what the threat was. To prove that he held all the power, even in conversation.

"And that was the worst thing?" Fox murmured, though satisfaction was plain in his voice.

"What do you think?"

A hand slid down his back and lifted his shirt. Lex tensed, but Uriah only hmmd.

"I don't see any scars."

"They had to bring in a healer. Thought I wasn't gonna make it. Don't know why they bothered."

At last, he felt Fox pull away from him, cool air on his back in the man's absence.

"Wasn't so hard, was it?" Uriah was beside him now, taking slow steps until he and Lex were face to face. And then he stood there. Two feet away. Pristine suit and tie, hands clasped casually behind his back, eyes bright and malicious. The pressure building in Lex's chest, the fear he was trying to ignore, had built into something heavy that pounded against the inside of his skull.

"Well. There you have it. Push your luck too far, and I won't send you back to the Tower. Not the first time." He reached out, curling a finger under Lex's chin, and it took everything he had to not recoil at the touch.

"But I don't want you thinking I'm afraid to go as far as they did if you ever defy me again."

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

tag list:

@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday @kiichu @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @shywhumpauthor @distinctlywhumpthing , @bloodinkandashes

#uriah is fun to write because of how horrible he is #the most violent he's personally been with lex is just a slap but he can order someone else to do it just like *that*#and the threat of going back is enough to manipulate lex into pretty much anything #and he thoroughly enjoys every bit of power he has #ill probably let lex kill him someday #as a treat #wildefire #alexei wilder #whump writing #assassin whumpee #tw manipulation #creepy whumper #tw noncon mention #prison whump #heroes and villains #noncon touching

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ravenzeppeli · 8 days

Text

Claimed

Chapter 38 - The Drawer |Risotto x Reader Angst + Fluff|

Warning: strong/vulgar language, threats, murder mention, creepy/stalker behavior (Risotto), noncon/torture threats, unhealthy relationship, sexual situations. MA

You were feeling a little curious as you sat on Risottos side of the bed, your eyes wondering to his nightstand. As if he could hear your every movement, you lifted your head, staring at his office door from across the hall. It was still closed, him saying he needed to finish a few things up. You volunteered to help, but he instead suggested that you try and relax because you've been working too much this week.

Being Illuso and Formaggios getaway driver was not hard work. Once, did you open your mouth to suggest tagging along with them, and Illuso decided to follow that up with a threat to punish you if you left the car. For fucks sake, didn't he promise to train you and make you better? The only thing he taught you how to do is read a map, and all he did was yell and point. Working with them made you dislike them even more then you already did. You should of just picked working alongside Melone and Ghiaccio.

A sigh escaped your lips as you leaned forward, slowly pulling open his bedside dresser. Never once did you snoop on the men, despite you yourself being a victim of it, but this didn't count as spying. This was just looking, and their shouldn't be any harm in looking. The drawer finally managed to slide open, your eyes immediately going wide at what you saw.

The drawer was filled with five zip lock bags, all containing underwear that you recognized. Your eyebrows furrowed as you saw your favorite pair, a sigh escaping your lips. You grabbed the bag, face going slightly pale when you saw the writing on the front of the ziplock bag.

Y/Ns scent after a day out [she went to - park, library, bakery, grocery store]

With no hesitation, you dropped the underwear, eyes freezing when you noticed two sets of handcuffs and a large vibrator. A ball gag was next to the handcuffs; all you felt was confusion. If you were to have just seen the sex toys, then you would have assumed he was cheating, but he had six separate dirty pairs of your underwear. Why did he have all of this? You felt like you were looking in Melones drawer, but less extreme.

You moved the underwear to the side, hand freezing when your eyes landed on a very faded picture of yourself. The picture was of you asleep, your eyes peacefully closed, a small smile on your lips. The picture was stained with what appeared to be stains. The picture was faded, as if it had been completely soaked in some sort of liquid.

"I see you've been snooping around," a deep voice called out, your heart practically jumping out of its chest. "Only bad girls snoop around Y/N. Are you a bad girl?" Risotto stood right in the center of his doorframe, face wearing a cold, blank expression as he stared at you, his head slightly tilted to the side.

The sudden realization hit in immediately that discovering this may have cost you your entire life. He wasn't like the other men. He was your capo, your leader - the key to your entire life was in his hands. You could feel that key slowly being crushed to death in his massive palms. Powerful men do not like feeling embarrassed or humiliating, they didn't like showing signs of weakness.

"Risotto," you gasped like an idiot, slamming the drawer open as if he didn't already see you staring at his private items. "You're looking well. How are you?" Immediate regret washed over you as he began walking towards you, being unable to read. "I'm sorry. I didn't see anything at all."

With one large step, he stood directly in front of you, hand shooting out to roughly yank the drawer open. "I believe in full loyalty to who you are with. I only get pleasure from you or items with your scent."

"Okay," you mumbled, confused. You stared up at him, his large frame casting a shadow over you. "Are you going to kill me?" Being blunt with him was always your best option. You discovered a secret that might embarrass him. You're completely fucked. It didn't matter that he was taking your underwear and possibly stalking you, it just mattered that you were now aware.

He kneeled down in front of you, his expression darkening as he became eye-length with your stare. "I am warning you now," he muttered, with lethal dominance, "if you ever ask me if I'm going to kill you again, I will strip you naked and shove my cock inside of your ass. I won't move either, I'll force you to sit on my cock all day and I'll use my vibrator on your clit. You'll sit like that all day. Rather I'm alone in my office or in front of the entire family, I will fucking punish you for 24 hours straight. I don't need sleep."

A chill ran down your spine, a chill that froze your entire body completely, actual tears forcing to spill from your eyes, the threat catching you fully off guard. You let your eyes drop from his, staring at his black dress shoes, avoiding his gaze completely. You felt your body betraying you a bit, a small wetness forming in your panties that you felt deeply ashamed of. The threat was painfully humiliating, but thinking of it was starting to make you feel tingly. You needed to stop. This wasn't right.

"Even if you were to betray me, I wouldn't kill you," he muttered, voice dropping to a sinister tone, "I would just remove your arms and legs permanently. A lobotomy would scramble your little brain up just well to match with having no arms or legs."

Tears suddenly spilled from your eyes, hands balling into fists. As you felt Risottos' hand fall on your thigh, you snatched your thigh away, turning your body away from him completely. "Stop saying I'll betray you."

"I'm only saying it so you know how it feels," he commented, his hand going back on your thigh, gently squeezing. "I'd never kill you, but you accuse me of it. You needed to know how it felt to be accused of something so fucking ridiculous. I've never hurt you. Do I disgust you now? Is that what it is?" He snatched up a few of the bags of underwear, holding them in front of your face. "Does this repulse you? Me smelling your dirty underwear each night, rather I pleasure myself or not?"

"How can you literally just threaten to fuck my ass and chop my arms off and then ask that?" You questioned, shaking your head, a sigh escaping your lips. "Listen, just.. can we just forget about all of this? It's fine, keep doing what you do with my underwear. I don't care." You're never going to snoop around on him again.

"You'd never betray the family. That final threat was to teach you a little lesson." His other hand rose up, flicking away the tear that began to stream down your cheek. "It's okay, I wouldn't have to do that to you. You aren't a bad girl. You're a good girl. A very good girl who listens and is very loyal." With a simple toss, the underwear landed back in the drawer. "What do you want for dinner?"

"Do you like me?" You muttered, completely ignoring his question as well as your own statement to just let this go. "Is that why you have my underwear? What's up with the vibrator?"

He grabbed the vibrator, a small smirk appearing on his face. "I have your underwear because I smell them or put them in my mouth while I pleasure myself. The picture of you sleeping is so I can see your pretty face as I stroke myself." A low hum escaped his lips as he stood up, sitting next to you on the bed, placing the vibrator on your knee. "Some nights I use the vibrator on my cock. The ball gag and handcuffs I've never used, I got them for you."

As you went to speak, he interrupted you, continuing, "Have I ever made you feel like I don't like you? Be honest, I will not hurt you for being honest. I just need to know." With slight aggression, he slammed the vibrator down on the bed, his eyes staring at hole into you. "You better not lie to me."

"I don't know how you feel," you admitted, shrugging. "You are hard to read, and I don't really spend time with you. I respect you as my capo and boyfriend, but I can't form an opinion on whether I believe you like me or not." You blinked, the sudden realization setting in that this might be really alarming behavior. Does he really put your dirty underwear in his mouth?

"You are very loved," Risotto muttered, his hands tucking under you, lifting you up in the air with ease. "I only told you to stay out of my office, so I have no reason to be mad at you." He sat you in his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"You'll hurt your back lifting me," you commented, wiggling around uncomfortably in his lap. "Come on, Risotto, I don't want to hurt you."

"Please," he scoffed, placing a rough kiss on top of your forehead. "I can lift up to 600 pounds Y/N. I work out. You are light, I could lift you up over my head with one arm. I could spin you around without breaking a sweat. I can throw your legs over my shoulders while I eat you out." He nodded his head proudly at that last one, staring down at you. "Don't insult yourself. Ever."

A look of amusement and shock spread across your face. This is the longest conversation that you've ever held (without Prosciutto present) with Risotto, and despite the weird circumstances and the awkwardness, you felt a little more comfortable around him in this moment.

You actually let a smile spread across your lips, forcing your body to relax in his arms. "I love you," you whispered, shrugging your shoulders as you finally told him those three words. "I don't care about your drawer. It doesn't bother me, and I need you to feel pressured to say I love you ba-"

"I love you, Y/N," he spat out, his voice low, almost chilling. "You'll never leave me. Do you understand that? Do you understand that you're all mine? That I'm all yours?" He began to feel you, his hands exploring your body, inches away from caressing your breasts. "You wouldn't be able to leave. With Melones stand, we'll always be able to find you. I could find you myself, I'd hunt you down."

The threats have become more frequent lately. His fears were quite obvious to you. What he seemed to believe was that you would one day run off and leave the men, as if that were even possible. If you wanted to run away, you wouldn't leave. That would be foolish. The smart thing to do would be to just stay with Melone or Pesci. Attempting to run away would be the one thing that would piss off Risotto, and you did not want to piss him off.

Pissing off Risotto would be a huge mistake. He was your boss, your leader, the entire reason that you were apart of this fucked up family. Without him taking you, you could have been dead. Would you have been? You were cutting it quite close with your drug deals, and Leaky Eye Luca certainly didn't care about protecting you, given you never slept with him and never would of. He was a a decent guy to work for, but you didn't have any interest in him.

"How about I hunt you down?" You replied, keeping your tone light. You actually did love him. You may not be in love with him, but you loved and cared for him deeply. He's never done anything bad to you. He's never laid his hands on you. He deserves respect. He's a hardworking man and a great leader.

"You'd never have a reason to hunt me down," he muttered, lowering his head to your neck. "What you and I have is an eternal flame. We'll never fade away. I'll never let this go." Rough kisses reigned down on your neck, his grip becoming iron around your waist.

"Hey now," you moaned, your neck tilting back as he began to suck. Fuck, you were starting to get really turned on, the wetness in your underwear beginning to puddle. Could he tell how badly you wanted him right now? "Do you really love me?"

A low chuckle escaped his lips, his hot breath ticking your neck as he threw you on the bed, climbing on top of you. "How about I show you how much I love you?" He tugged your jeans down, licking his lips as he picked up his vibrator, holding it to the wet spot in the center of your underwear. "I'm afraid you're going to be very sore tomorrow, but don't worry, baby. I'll kiss your pussy and make it all better once I'm done playing with you."

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mika-writes-fanfics · 1 year

Text

Healing Touch

Dabi x Fem!Reader fan fiction

Synopsis: You encounter an injured Shigaraki and offer your healing quirk to his aid. Little did you know, healers were hard to come by in the underground and Shigaraki takes a liking to your skills. To further his cause, he kidnaps you and holds you captive under the watch of the LOV. You play the role of the LOV's little healer while you think of a way to escape. Unbeknownst to you, the pyromaniac with a cold heart begins to melt in your presence. Your compassion and wit draw him in, all the while he swears it's only curiosity he feels toward you. But when your touch heals his burns and your personality soothes his anguish, Dabi begins to wonder, what exactly is he feeling for you? And why the hell does he feel so torn up when you slip away?

Warnings/Tags: mention of blood, Stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, female/afab reader, healing quirk, sexual tension w Dabi, implication of non-con (not by Dabi), Muscular is a creep, Dabi gets a new fit, aftermath of UA training arc

Author's Note: TIME FOR SEXUAL TENSION. All my homies hate Muscular, FUCK him. He gave me bad vibes during the UA training arc, so I’m trashing on his character. Handing Dabi a few W's before he gets couple L's. Also I'm feeding you guys a long chapter so buckle the fuck up. Warning: Muscular is a creep and implies noncon.

Word Count: 7.8K

Link to AO3

Chapter Seven: I Really Hate This Guy

You ended up recovering just fine after eating and sleeping your dizzy spell off. By the next day, it was as if nothing had happened at all. As far as you were concerned, nothing did really happen. Your memory of the incident was fuzzy. You knew that you pushed yourself too far and fainted for a moment, but what came afterwards was a complete blur. It must not have been too much of a disaster, considering you awoke in your bed without any bruises. You reason you must have simply fallen into your bed. You just hope you didn’t cause Dabi any trouble. Little did you know that Dabi was the one who caught you, brought you snacks, and made sure you were okay before leaving you to rest.

Your morning goes by quietly as you freshen yourself up in the bathroom. There’s not a sound in the other rooms, meaning the others are either still asleep or away on missions. With your morning routine done, you exit the bathroom and enter the hallway. As you are heading to your room, you notice Toga’s door is cracked open. Curiously, you creep forward to her door and quietly swing the door wider. The hinges softly groan, causing you to hold your breath and cringe. But when you release your breath and press on, you notice that it’s empty. She must be out on a mission. You swallow thickly, feeling some anxiety rising within you. Now is the perfect time to snatch a knife. You glance over your shoulders, checking to make sure the hallway is clear. If you’re gonna go through with this, you can’t have any witnesses. When you realize the hallway is clear, you make your move. You quickly, but quietly, stride over to Toga’s desk and pick out the smallest switchblade you see. Your heartbeat patters in your ears and your hands shake as you take the knife and tuck it into your waistband. Not wanting to risk being seen and questioned, you make your leave, immediately heading straight to your room.

You relax a bit once the door is shut behind you. The hard part is over, the next step is to hide it away. You let your back rest against the door as you chew your lip and weigh your options. As far as you’re aware, no one except Dabi or Toga have ever set foot into your room. Which means, almost any place that’s out of plain sight and hard to quickly get to would be a good place. After a few more moments of contemplating, you settle on a discrete location and stow it away. You hope you’re now one step closer to freedom.

You steady your wildly beating heart by taking a few breaths, assuring yourself the stashed knife would not be found. It’s important you get your emotions under control, your shaking hands and nervous demeanor would raise suspicions, should you let them show. You’re unsure of how many minutes have passed before you finally calm yourself. What you do know, however, is that you’re fucking starving. It’s time for you to head downstairs.

You leave your room and quietly make your way to the kitchen, checking to see if the bar is empty along the way. Despite how quiet the base is today, you’re definitely not alone, as your eyes catch a glimpse of Shigaraki and Mr.Compress conversing together in the bar. Looks like your escape route is guarded again, not that you’d have any way out anyways. You expected as much, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less disappointing. Still, you have to hold onto hope that someday they will slip up, either by allowing you enough time to attempt at picking the lock, or being stupid enough to leave a key behind. You’re not sure how likely that is though, given how most of them warp in rather than using the front door anyways.

You move on from the bar and onto the kitchen. The cupboards are surprisingly well-stocked, despite Shigaraki seemingly not generating much income. Villainy doesn’t normally pay the bills very well, after all. You wonder if there’s a mysterious benefactor helping the LOV behind the scenes. Whatever the case is, you certainly don’t mind if it means you get to eat. You fix yourself a quick breakfast and eat in peace, feeling partially amazed by just how mundane your day is going so far. This has to be the most boring day you’ve experienced in captivity.

You’re premature in your thoughts as the semblance of tranquility is shattered by a commotion in the other room. Judging by the voices, it seems the others are back from their mission. When there’s a mission, there are usually injuries too. You wash your empty bowl in the sink and head to your room, figuring that they’ll be looking for you there. As you head to the stairs, you meet Dabi in the halls.

“I’m assuming you’re back from some sort of mission?” You ask him.

“Yep,” he confirms.

“Any injuries?”

“Not this time, it was just recon work.”

“Looks like your staples got snagged though,” you point out. His fingers shoot to his face, touching the area and then feeling the blood stain his fingers. “It looks like they’ll need to be replaced.”

“Yeah, seems like it,” He agrees. “Didn’t you mention once that you had some?”

“They’re in the first aid kit,” you verify.

“You mind bringing them over to my room?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” You leave to fetch the necessary medical supplies, digging through what you have in your kit. Although he didn’t outright request it, you grab disinfectant, gauze, and a medical stapler. You never really paid it much mind, but through your sifting, you notice he gave you equipment that goes well beyond amateur first aid. There are even suturing tools and nylon threads. But conveniently, nothing you could use to your advantage.

‘Where does Shigaraki even get all this stuff,’ you wonder. It’s weird, you think, how Shigaraki managed to get his hands on professional medical equipment. You think back to those sets of locked doors and the hospital-like smell you saw, once before. There’s gotta be something weird behind those doors, to warrant Shigaraki’s secrecy and for him to have all these medical supplies.

Not wanting to keep Dabi waiting any longer, you shake the thoughts from your head and scoop up the necessary supplies. You head over to Dabi’s room and knock on the door. He calls for you to come in and you oblige, opening the door and shutting it behind you. You realize just how different his room looks in the light, as when you helped him to his room that night, everything was shrouded in darkness. You’re able to see just how bare his room is. There’s not many personal belongings in his room. In fact, his room isn’t much different than what yours looked like when you first arrived. Though, there is one thing he added.

You didn’t notice that one night, but there’s a mirror on his dresser, likely for this very reason. He leans over and looks into his reflection, eyes focusing on the bent staples. Unceremoniously, he yanks out the staples and then holds the area together with his free hand. You can’t help but stare at the scene, mouth agape. It’s no wonder Shigaraki wanted a healer, this man is incredibly wreckless with his personal health.

“You should really disinfect that first,” you chide.

He shrugs. “Kinda hard to do with just one hand, I’ll pass.”

You sigh and twist off the cap from the disinfectant, pouring it onto a gauze. Looks like you’ll just have to take it upon yourself to clean the wound. You sidle up to him and snake your arm in between his. Your hand replaces his and supports his cheek. He lets you take over and watches your movements through the mirror as you dab the area with the gauze.

“There, that should do it. Can you hold this again for me? I’ll get the stapler,” you request. Your hand brushes his as he holds himself together once more. You retract from his space, walking over to toss the sullied gauze into the trash before retrieving the stapler. It’s when you go to approach him again that nervousness starts to settle in your mind. Wait, how the fuck do you do this? You’ve never really done this before. Inserting staples is where your medical knowledge tapers off. He seems to notice your uncertainty, as he motions for you to hand over the staples. You oblige, feeling a bit relieved. Inserting staples is not something you’re entirely familiar with. Given the state of his body, he’s much more accustomed to it than you are. He uses the stapler and rejoins the flesh without a wince.

“Do you have any burns today?” You ask. He shakes his head.

“No, I didn’t use my quirk,” he explains. “Wouldn’t mind you taking care of this, though.” He gestures to the scar underneath his eye, the same one that just got the staples replaced.

“Yeah, sure thing,” you agree. You figured he might ask such a thing, it seemed painful.

“You’re always standing when we do this. Here, sit,” he encourages, tapping on his desk nearby. You suppose he’s right, but you wonder what warranted such thoughts. You’d hate for this to be the case, but you wonder if it has anything to do with your fainting yesterday. With no other place to sit except his bed, you acquiesce to his request and hop onto the desk. He stands in front of you and you notice it’s a bit hard to reach his face without bending forward awkwardly, on account of your thighs getting in the way. You part your thighs to make it easier, allowing him the space to come closer.

His hands are splayed on either side of your thighs, bearing some of his weight as he leans down to your level. You try to focus on the task at hand, attempting to avoid thinking too deeply on how his hips feel in between your thighs. It’s proving to be a hard task. You try to steady your breath before your hand touches his face, beginning the healing process on the skin.

His warm fingers deftly brush against the skin of your thighs. The featherlight contact pulls a slight shudder and quiet gasp out of you. He must notice this as he lets out a light-hearted, airy chuckle. “Don’t tell me you’re cold already,” he teases. Your skin erupts into goosebumps, obviously felt under Dabi’s fingers. His voice takes on a more husky tone when he speaks again, “Do I have to warm you up so soon?”

You’re not sure if he means to, but his words seem flirtatious. The implication makes you even more flustered. You clear your throat before speaking, trying to cover up your obvious nervousness. “N-no, I’m fine. Just a random shiver is all.”

You internally cringe at your own stuttering. It’s obvious he’s picked up on it. Dabi hums in response, eyes narrowing slightly in disbelief. “If you say so.” Heat rises in your cheeks. You huff out of frustrated embarrassment. He wasn’t entirely certain before, but judging from how you don’t recoil at his touch and how flustered it makes you, he’s confident in what he heard at the door now. Magne was right. You are attracted to him, you just don’t know the feeling is mutual.

Truthfully, he’s not sure what to do with this knowledge. This is uncharted territory for him. All he’s been focused on is his grandiose plan to ruin Endeavor. Fawning over someone was pointless and distracting. Besides, after what happened to his body, he thought his appearance was too unsightly anyways. It was better for him to abandon the idea altogether, lest he gets rejected and tossed aside all over again. But after hearing you don’t think he’s repulsive, what the fuck is he supposed to do now? It’s not like he learned what to do from his father. He knows he feels attraction towards you, though. Until he figures out the rest, he’s content with sneaking touches and stealing glances. The rush you give him is just too addictive to pass up.

“Th-there, that should do it,” you shakily say. He hums in acknowledgement. Your eyes meet his, only to notice that he’s much closer to your face and looking at your lips with narrowed eyes.

“W-what are you doing?” You ask, nervousness clear in your voice.

“Your lips turned blue last time, just doing my part to make sure you don’t fall on me again,” he replies.

“And are they blue now?” His hand cups your jaw and his thumb just barely grazes your bottom lip. Your heart begins to quicken at the gesture.

“No,” he answers. “Looks perfect to me.” He makes eye contact with you and you can’t suppress the way your mind hangs onto those words.

He’s inches away from your face, close enough to see every detail of your face. His eyes momentarily dart to your lips, an action you don’t miss. You swallow, feeling the butterflies swarming in your stomach. It’s your turn to glance at his lips. You can’t help but wonder how his lips would feel against yours. When your gaze meets his, you feel your breath hitch upon realizing he was watching you. His pupils are dilated and his eyes are lidded. To him, yours look the same.

His heart is thumping in his chest, much like yours is. The feelings between you two are wordlessly understood, demonstrated by how you’re both locked in place, frozen within this moment in time, as the tension crescendoes at an all-time high. Your resolve crumbles as you wish for the dam to finally break. He is the forbidden fruit, and consequences be damned, you want a taste. He seems to lean in closer, his breath fanning your lips. Instinctively, yours part. His eyes flutter closed and you do the same. The moment is rudely interrupted as a voice calls from the door.

“Dabi, y/n, the two of you are needed downstairs,” Kurogiri formally informs. Your eyes immediately snap open. To say his voice startled you is an understatement. You’re thankful Dabi’s door is still shut, at least. Kurogiri is not the worst person to discover the two of you like this, but you’d much rather not be discovered at all.

Dabi lets his forehead fall against yours and begrudgingly opens his eyes, gazing at you with a soft expression you’ve never quite seen on him. He seems to hesitate before pulling away from you, battling the desire to just kiss you quickly. He locks eyes with you one more time and lets out a sigh, one that is mixed with disappointment and frustration. His fingers card through his hair, an attempt to soothe the tension he feels. He parts his lips to speak and tiredly drawls,“Alright, we’ll be right there.”

You slide off of the table and the two of you walk together downstairs, neither of you mentioning that close moment. Everyone appears to be gathered in the bar, with Shigaraki standing near the door next to an unfamiliar person. The stranger has a hulking figure, with large, rippling muscles over his entire body. He appears to have an artificial eye on the side of his face marled with a deep, large scar. The eye is unlike anything you’ve seen before, as it exposes some of the ocular muscles and does not aim to look very natural.

The rest of the LOV is waiting for an explanation as to why this stranger is in the bar, seemingly approved by Shigaraki. Dabi and you stand tucked in the back of the crowd, behind Toga and Magne. Toga glances over her shoulder, catching sight of you and Dabi. She gives you a Cheshire Cat grin. “What took you two so long?” Toga teases in a hushed whisper.

“Healing stuff, you know, the usual,” you offer in explanation. Your voice must not sound confident, as she seemingly picks up on your lie.

“Right, sure,” she giggles, knowingly. You’re thankful Shigaraki begins to speak, interrupting that interaction and saving you from more embarrassment.

“This is Muscular, he will be accompanying you all on the mission tomorrow. Get your introductions out of the way now, I don’t wanna hear you were all too busy chatting to pull off the mission,” Shigaraki commands. “Talk about your quirks or something, you need to know how to use each other to our advantage.”

“Does this include me?” You worryingly ask Dabi.

“No, this doesn’t involve you. You and Shigaraki are staying behind,” he assures. You sigh in relief.

Shigaraki leaves his place next to Muscular and takes a seat on the bar, barking at Kurogiri to make him a drink, the action silently encouraging the others to get on with their introductions. Toga takes the initiative to approach Muscular first and bounces over to him. She seems excited to meet new people, and therefore Muscular, despite the unspoken nervousness that seems to build in the room.

“Hi, I’m Toga!”

“Your quirk, what is it?” he interrogates, seemingly completely uninterested in the casual small talk Toga was attempting to initiate. She pouts at his disinterest. It’s hard to hear where you are in the bar, but you swear you hear her mutter a ‘so rude’ under her breath.

“I can become someone else if I drink their blood. The more blood I drink, the longer I can look like them,” she explains. Her voice has lost her usual enthusiasm, replaced with a cordial but curt tone.

“Does that mean you can take on other people’s quirks?”

“No, I can just look like them or sound like them.”

“What happens when your timer runs out?”

“The facade melts off and leaves behind this gross clay,” she answers, grimacing at just the thought. This gives you more information about her quirk, something that you file in the back of your mind for later. The rest of the introductions go by as you hang back in the crowd with Dabi. Even Dabi seems slightly put off by Muscular, as he’s not in a hurry to approach him. Muscular ends up walking to Dabi, the crowd parting as he does so. Looks like the feeling is mutual amongst the rest of the LOV.

“Dabi, I take it?” Muscular asks. Dabi answers a very unenthusiastic ‘yeah’ in response. To others, it sounds like his usual apathetic attitude, but somehow, you’re able to distinguish the difference. “So you’re the guy leading the mission.”

“That’s right,” he answers. Muscular hums in acknowledgment, before his eyes meet yours.

“Oh? And who is this pretty little thing? She looks too weak and sweet to be a villain, is this your pet or something?” The hulking man asks. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you or the questions he’s asking. You take a few steps back, hoping increasing the distance between the two of you would offer you some comfort. He must notice your attempt at backing away as he says,“Aw, don’t like me? That’s too bad. Not like that’s ever stopped me before though.”

He licks his teeth and you tremble on the spot. This guy is fucking creepy and dangerous. Everyone else seems to notice your discomfort and the female members mirror it. Toga and Magne shift uncomfortably and tense up. Dabi shoots the man an annoyed glare, subtly slotting himself in the space between you and Muscular.

“She doesn’t concern you,” Dabi coldly states. He diverts the conversation with an assertive tone. “Let’s go over the plan since we all know each other now, yeah? Everyone’s got their role in this mission. We can’t afford anyone screwing it up.” You take the opening as your cue to leave, and flee upstairs. On your way up, you glance at Shigaraki, trying to gauge his reaction to ensure you’re permitted to leave. He uses the hand not wrapped around his glass to wave you off, silently allowing you to bolt.

Meanwhile while you’re upstairs, Dabi is going over the plan. He’s rather short with everyone. Dabi’s body temperature is rising, his skin slightly steaming. Truthfully, he’s fucking pissed at Muscular for that little stunt he pulled. Who does he think he is? He’s unaware of the obvious: he’s pissed because Muscular threatened you specifically. It’d be a cold day in hell before he lets someone hurt you, especially like that.

Muscular continues to test Dabi’s patience, as he interrupts the discussion to ask, “So what quirk does that pretty little thing upstairs have?”

“She can heal people with her skin!” Twice gleefully answers. His tone shifts to a more whiny tone to seemingly chide himself for revealing your quirk. “Don’t tell him that!” The answer seems to satisfy Muscular, as he doesn’t interrupt the plan again, allowing Dabi to give careful instructions and cool off. After all the information is laid out, Shigaraki beckons Dabi to come over.

“Dabi, Kurogiri has just informed me that my Master intends to loan us a Nomu for this mission,” Shigaraki states.

“A Nomu? That’s one of those artificial soldiers you mentioned once before, isn’t it?” Dabi asks, with interest. Shigaraki confirms, before divulging in more details.

“They’re trained to only respond to their commander. We’re setting it up to only take orders from you,” Shigaraki starts. He begins to go into detail about the quirks it has been fitted with and all of its resistances. Dabi glances over during his conversation with Shigaraki only to find Muscular is nowhere to be seen. There’s a pit forming in his stomach at the realization.

“Give me a minute, I gotta go check something,” Dabi interrupts. Without even waiting for Shigaraki to respond, he heads off in the direction of the stairs.

“Come back here, we weren’t done,” Shigaraki complains.

“Fuck off, it’ll only take a second. It’s not like the plan is happening anytime soon.” Shigaraki huffs in response, grumbling under his breath and beginning to scratch at his own neck in palpable annoyance. Dabi heads up the stairs, searching for Muscular and you. His ears are able to pick up on a conversation, instantly focusing in on your voice.

“Oh, um, sorry. I just healed someone else,” you meekly say, your apparent fear masked under the guise of politeness.

“What’s that got to do with it?” Muscular asks with annoyance.

“If I heal too much, my hands get cold enough for frostbite to set in.”

“Oh? But isn’t your quirk healing skin?”

“What’s your point?” Your tone is much more guarded, steeling yourself for what comes next. You don’t like where this conversation is headed.

“I’m just saying it doesn’t have to be your hands. Just take off your clothes. I’d warm you right up, baby,” he purrs. You feel nauseous at his implication as pure fear seeps into your body.

He’s making you really uncomfortable. This is one of the first times since your capture you’ve been genuinely worried for your safety. Shigaraki was intimidating when you first met him, but all it took to avoid his wrath was cooperation. But Shigaraki didn’t ever stoop this low with you, nor did anyone else. You’re surrounded by villains but this man seems like a true monster.

Your pulse races as more anxiety rises within you. The large man inches closer into your space, slowly cornering you against the wall. You frantically weigh your options. Do you risk shouting for help and hoping you’re saved? Or are you going to screw your eyes shut and cope with what comes next? You really wish you kept that knife on you. Hiding it was a safe bet, but you could really use that advantage right now.

“What are you still doing here?” You hear a familiar voice interject. Muscular turns his body to face the source, allowing you to see Dabi.

If looks could kill, Muscular would probably be dead ten times over. Dabi’s expression even rattles you to your core, despite not even being the intended recipient. There’s this oppressing aura of intimidation surrounding him, only furthered by the cold and unhinged look in his eyes. You realize this must be what his enemies see. This is why many people fear him, but not you.

“Just wanted to meet the healer you’ve been hiding from me. Is there something wrong with wanting to get to know everyone before the mission?”

“There’s no need, she won’t be going.”

“What a waste,” Muscular criticizes. He directs his next words to you, “Maybe next time.” With that, Muscular withdraws from your space and starts down the hall, glancing over his shoulder at you before he descends the stairs. Dabi’s eyes watch him as he leaves, not even risking taking his eyes off until Muscular is out of sight. Afterwards, he looks to you, noticing your very apparent scared state.

“Are you okay?” He finally asks, his voice much softer towards you. “Did he do anything?”

“Besides say some gross things? No, he didn’t get the chance to act on it,” you answer. Dabi’s brows are still furrowed out of concern for you and annoyance at Muscular.

“He doesn’t know which room is yours, so you can hide in there. I’ll let you know when he leaves,” he instructs. You nod and don’t hesitate to hide. You’re grateful for Dabi’s interruption. Imagining what would have happened to you had Dabi not intervened only serves to further rattle your nerves. You sit on your bed, tucking your knees against your chest and renaming as quiet as possible, so as to keep Muscular from figuring out where you are should he attempt to look for you. The silence in your room helps you come back down from anxiety and back to reality, though you can never fully relax, as your ears still pick up on what you think is Muscular’s voice downstairs. In an attempt to drown out his voice, you cover your ears with your pillow. It helps some, as a lot of the sounds downstairs are muffled by the cotton in your pillow. You let out some deep breaths, finally slowing your beating heart back down to a normal level.

You’re not sure how much time has passed when you hear a knock on your door. Your steps are cautious and slow as you head to the door, carefully opening it and peering through the sliver of space to see who it is. You’re met with a wave of relief to see familiar purple scars and shining silver staples. You open the door wider, feeling safer not seeing Muscular. Dabi notices the difference in your demeanor and obvious tension leaving your body. It’s strange, he thinks, that someone could be relieved to see him. He doesn’t quite understand why the thought makes him want to grin.

“Happy to see me?” He jokes with a smirk before sauntering in. It’s almost criminal how attractive he looks with his signature smirk. “You can relax, you know, he won’t be staying around here before the mission.”

“Oh thank god. I don’t like that guy,” you admit. He chuckles at your honesty.

“I don’t either, but he is strong. We could use him, even if he’s stupid and rash. In any case, he’d make a great pawn.”

“So he’s not going to be a permanent member?”

“I doubt it, he lacks real ambition. He’s probably just itching for a fight is all. I bet he’ll fuck off after the mission once he realizes we’re not constantly starting meaningless chaos,” he denounces, smirking while shit-talking about Muscular. It brings you some comfort to know that Dabi is both on your side and shares your distaste for Muscular. His expression turns a bit more serious and he adds, “I doubt he’ll be around you again, but for what it’s worth, I won’t let him try anything. If he tries anything, scream, and I’ll be there. I don’t care if Shigaraki needs him or not, I’ll fucking burn him.”

Normally, you’d be socially obligated to admonish someone for saying they’d murder another person. But, in this case, you’re making an exception. “Thank you, Dabi,” you show gratitude. You give him a soft smile, before attempting a lighthearted joke, “I promise I’ll give him my best girl-in-a-horror-movie shriek.”

“Atta girl,” he praises and laughs. The two of you part ways for the night afterwards, leaving you to get some much needed rest after the rollercoaster that was your day. Falling asleep isn’t as difficult as you feared it would be. You drift off to sleep, knowing that Dabi has your back.

The next couple of days pass by relatively quietly, at least, for the league’s standards. They seem to be gearing up for the upcoming outing, as everyone minus Shigaraki and Kurogiri leave one night. When they arrive, you notice that they’re now fitted with new equipment. Toga carries this backpack with clear tubes on her persons, and you’re able to notice the tubes connect to a rather large syringe. Magne now has a huge rectangular metal beam, one end colored in red while the opposite is blue. It’s a magnet, you realize. Dabi even received something new, as he’s wearing new clothes. His new jacket is black with silver cuffs at the half sleeves. There’s a stitching motif around the collar and along the split tails of his coat.

You really hate how your first thought is how good he looks in it. It seems like their little mission was nothing more than a supply run, hence the lack of injuries on Dabi. Truly, you’re thankful for it, in more ways than one. With the way you’re feeling about him, you’re sure that any close encounter would result in you finishing what you started on that damn table.

The day comes and goes. Night falling without any more commotion or contact with Dabi. It’s not until the next day that this pattern changes. There’s a knock on your door. Just like the last time, you slowly open the door, checking to see who it is. With no sign of Muscular, you swing open the door, allowing Dabi to step in. You expect him to take his seat on your bed like usual, only he doesn’t, and instead stands in front of you. You’re about to part your lips to ask what he needs, but he speaks first, answering your question.

“We’re about to leave for the rendezvous point,” he informs. Neither Dabi nor the others usually let you know when they’re about to run off to do one of their missions. The fact he’s even letting you know makes you think that this one is significant, far more important or dangerous than anything they’ve done before. Thinking about what could happen makes you a bit nervous.

“Do you think there’s going to be a lot of injuries?” You ask, approaching the topic with a careful tone.

“If all goes well, it should be just the usual,” he answers. The ‘usual’ implies he’ll be the only one returning with the typical burns characteristic of his quirk.

“And if it doesn’t?” You counter. Dabi doesn’t answer you. The silence cements the direness of the situation.

Dabi looks at you with an intense longing you only saw a glimpse of that time you nearly kissed. He thinks about what would happen if he doesn’t get the chance to come back to you, what would happen if he got caught by the heroes. The thought causes an ache in his chest, but he won’t back down from the mission. He can’t. This is a stepping stone to his eventual goal. He’s sure that the LOV could bring him closer to his eventual target. He has to take the risk. And if he has to take this one, what’s another?

He steps closer to you and pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you. The sudden gesture takes you by surprise, but you don’t stiffen out of discomfort. Rather, you seem to relax in his hold and almost lean into his touch. Still, you can’t help but acknowledge this seems out of character for him.

“What’s gotten into you? Is everything okay?” The worry is clear in your voice.

“I just… wanted to do this before I go,” he explains. His voice is quiet and unsure, something you interpret as a result of his unfamiliarity with affection. Against your better judgement, you find yourself reciprocating, wrapping your arms around him.

“Well you’re coming back, aren’t you?” you ask, your voice partially muffled by his jacket. He doesn’t respond immediately. The two of you reluctantly part but still hover in each other’s space. You look up at him, making eye contact. There’s this look in his eyes that you can’t quite place. He seems far away from you, despite being close enough to touch.

“Yeah,” he answers. Somehow, you can tell he’s not entirely confident in his answer. Your stomach twists upon noticing, and you can’t help but feel a bit saddened to think of him disappearing on you. You’re beginning to question your sanity. Is Stockholm finally setting in? How are you going to feel about him when you finally escape? Will these feelings you have for him make you never wish to leave? He exits your room with great hesitation, leaving you to stand there in silence, reflecting on your burning questions.

After a few minutes, you hear Shigaraki calling for you downstairs. You close your eyes and breathe in, steeling yourself for the incoming interaction with Shigaraki, before releasing your breath and heading downstairs. When you arrive in the bar, you find everyone has their equipment packed and are clustered in the open area of the floor. You cringe when you see Muscular in the far corner, but Shigaraki waves you over, unintentionally saving you from appearing available for conversation to Muscular. You approach Shigaraki, feeling a bit confused as to why you were requested here.

“I thought I wasn’t going?” You question, your voice raising towards the end in uncertainty. Shigaraki scoffs in annoyance.

“You’re not,” Shigaraki retorts.

“But… then why did you…?” You trail off, referencing why he called for your presence downstairs.

“I’m not dumb enough to let you wander around on your own. You’re staying down here so Kurogiri and I can babysit you,” Shigaraki patronizes. You make it a point to not let Shigaraki’s words get to you anymore, considering he talks that way to literally everyone.

“Invest in a nanny if it bothers you that much,” you grumble under your breath, before taking a seat in one of the bar booths. You rest your elbows against the table and place your chin in the palm of your hand, with an uninterested expression. With nothing else to look at, your eyes wander the crowd. Your subconscious takes the reigns and your eyes travel over to Dabi. He seems to have a determined expression on his face as he speaks with Twice. You wonder what drives him, what motivates him to do the things he does, how he continues to use his quirk despite how it hurts him. He’s never revealed much to you, or really anybody, what goal he’s working towards. It both fascinates you and terrifies you. Some part of you admires it, even, how he’s so driven that his own self destruction won’t stop him.

You must have been staring and lost in thought for too long, as his gaze snaps to you. Your surroundings fade into the background and you feel frozen in place. The moment is interrupted as Kurogiri summons a warp gate in the corner of the room, the two of you diverting your gazes to the strange purple portal. Everyone files in, one by one, and slowly becomes enveloped into the gateway, transporting them to a location completely unknown to you. Dabi is the last to file in. He glances over his shoulder to look back to you. His eyes stay locked onto yours, his bright eyes partially shrouded behind the mist, all the way up until he disappears in the violet haze. You find yourself asking a million questions about their plans. Just what does Shigaraki have in store for them? What’s so dangerous about this mission? What does the league of villains hope to accomplish?

A few hours trudge by painfully. You’ve spent this entire time counting; counting how many times Kurogiri seems to polish the same spot on the bar, how many unopened bottles of expensive liquor are collecting dust on the shelves, how many scuff marks tarnish the shine of the wooden floor… The point is, there’s only so many things in the room. You’re painfully bored and running out of novel ways to entertain yourself.

Meanwhile, Shigaraki spends his time playing on his Switch, carefully holding it with his pinkies raised up. It seems inconvenient, you think, to have to constantly be mindful of disintegrating everything you touch. You wonder just how many gaming consoles he’s gone through, how many he’s accidentally dusted with his quirk. Though, based on how heated he gets over his games, you wager that a lot of those instances may be more on purpose than on accident.

Speaking of which, it seems like he’s reached a tough part of the game, as he groans at the sight of the flashing ‘Game Over’ graphic (which is his third time seeing the words, and yes, you’ve been counting that too). The gaming console is tossed aside. Shigaraki checks his phone and repeatedly taps his finger onto the bartop. You can deduce that he’s feeling impatient and waiting on something based on his mannerisms. Your ears strain to hear how he mutters in annoyance, mumbling about how everyone sucks at giving him updates. You can only presume he’s referring to the mission. Your boredom emboldens you, as you find yourself starting a conversation with Shigaraki while his attention is not grabbed by his handheld console. There’s always been one very obscure thing you’ve wanted to ask him. Now’s your chance to have this stupid curiosity settled.

“I have a question,” you say.

“It better not be about the mission,” he deadpans.

“It’s not,” you assure. He seems to relax a bit, until you add, “My question is much worse.”

“I swear to god, if you ask about-” he starts to rant, before you cut him off.

“Do you ever wash your hand mask?” You gesture to your face, referencing the hand he always wears there. It’s obvious he’s taken off guard, even with his face being partially obscured by the covering. There’s a very tense silence. You interrupt the quietness, “So… I’ll take that as a no…”

“It’s a taxidermy,” he finally replies, no longer stunned by your unexpected question.

Well, that certainly explains why.

It’s your turn to remain silent.

“Oh,” is the most you’re able to muster. This situation makes you miss talking to Dabi, Toga, or Magne already, and it’s only been a couple hours. He notices you picking at your nails, something he sees as you trying to entertain yourself.

“Are you bored?” He asks.

“No, not at all. I love sitting here in silence. It’s riveting, really. You should try it,” you answer sarcastically. He sighs and you notice him scratching at his neck, probably agitated by your sarcasm.

“Here’s the remote, entertain yourself and stop bothering me,” he orders, holding up the remote before tossing it at you. You manage to grab it before it either hits you or falls on the ground.

“Don’t mind if I do,” you beam. He places his phone on the counter, screen down, and resumes playing on his Switch. You spend the rest of the night lounging around, enjoying the free access to the league’s tv without the other members vying for control of the channels. Against your better judgment, you flip to the news, curious as to what’s going on in the world. You feel a bit disappointed not seeing anything about your disappearance on the news. The lack of coverage makes you wonder if anyone even noticed your absence at all. You try not to let it get to you and choose to busy yourself by watching increasingly odd gameshows. It helps a bit, as the bizarre tasks the contestants are forced to participate in gives you something else to think about.

You’re not sure how much time has passed, and you’re about to doze off, until you’re startled awake. Kurogiri summons a portal, and out pours the rest of the league. You eyes quickly scan all the bodies, taking inventory of everyone. There’s Toga, Magne, Twice, Dabi, Spinner, and Compress. Muscular and a few of the other strangers are gone. What happened to them?

“The target?” Shigaraki interrogates.

“Handled by your’s truly,” Compress ensures, with a grandiose flourish. His stagelike mannerisms are showing.

“Toga, how much blood did you get?” Shigaraki adresses next. She holds up the syringe attached to a pump, the same gear you see her leave with. The amount in the vial is remarkably small, with barely any blood present.

“One person’s!” She cheerily answers. Shigaraki lets out a sigh that can only be described as a frustrated huff.

“It’ll have to do,” he settles. “Whoever’s injured should go get healed first. We’ll talk about the rest of the plan afterwards.”

Dabi saunters over to you, accompanied by Compress following behind. Compress seems to be clutching his own shoulder, making you worry that a much more serious injury underneath his jacket. Your eyes scan over Dabi, not noticing any blaring signs of other wounds, apart from the usual burns on his hands and arms. Maybe you were worrying over him for nothing after all.

“What sort of injuries am I working with?” You ask the two of them.

“Compress ate shit and got slammed to the ground. There’s gotta be some bruising. If not to his body, then his ego,” Dabi snickers. “Nothing out of the ordinary for me, though.”

“Oh come off it!” Compress groans. “I’ll have you know I took that tussle with grace.”

“In that case, I’ll start with Compress,” you decide, interjecting their bantering. You rise from your seat in the booth and motion for Compress to sit. You crack your knuckles before instructing, “You’ll need to remove your coat, I can’t heal through fabric.”

Compress sheds his mustard colored coat, revealing an orange button down shirt underneath a black buttoned vest. You can’t but wonder why this man wears so many fucking layers of clothing. The sheer amount of buttons he has to undo makes the process a little awkward, as you’re left standing there, wringing your hands. After a moment or two, his torso is now bare to you. You can see blooms of purples and blues across his chest, no doubt from the impact. Your hands touch the bruises and your quirk activates. Dabi can’t help but grit his teeth at the sight and hover by your side.

“Your hands are so cold. Will you be alright? I heard you can get frostbite like this,” he asks with a shuddering voice. Your hands move over to the last cluster of bruising on his chest, leaving behind even, porcelain skin in it’s wake.

“Don’t worry about it, Dabi will warm me up,” you dismiss. There’s a sharp silence as you realize the accidental innuendo of your word choice. To your dismay, Compress picks up on it.

“Oh will he now?” If he wasn’t wearing a mask, you’re sure you’d see his eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Come on, I didn’t mean it like that! He has a fire quirk, he can heat up his hands for Christ’s sake. Get your mind out of the gutter,” you defend. With no more bruises left, you cross your arms and huff. “And to think I took you for a gentleman, Compress.”

“Pardon the crude implication, but your words made it easy to assume,” he feigns an apology through strained snickers. He rebuttons his clothes and shrugs into his topcoat, smoothing over the wrinkles with his hands. Compress rises from his seat in the booth. You expect him to run off, but he stands in front of you, and asks, “Would you forgive me if I showed you a magic trick?”

“If it’s a good one, I’ll consider it,” you bargain.

With a sleight of hand, he presents to you a white azalea. “For your services,” he offers. You pluck the flower from his hand and twirl the stem between your fingers. “Harvested fresh from the Nagano forest.”

“Hm… I suppose I’ll forgive you, just this once,” you offer, bringing the flower to your lips. Your gaze turns to Dabi as you address him next, “Lemme just set this down and I’ll heal you next, Dabi.”

You turn to place the flower on the table, but the plant is stolen from your fingers, the motion expertly performed with the skill of a thief. You’re about to protest when Dabi tucks the azalea behind your ear, a gesture you weren’t anticipating, especially given how public this display of affection is. You’re too busy glancing at the crowd, searching for any signs of the others acknowledging what happened, that you fail to notice the side eye Dabi gives Compress.

“I was worried you were gonna take it from me for a minute there,” you mumble while fiddling with your hands.

“Nah, looks better on you than it would me,” he contends. He slides into the booth and presents you with his hands. “Now, you ready to do this or are you too cold?” You shake your head and clasp your hands around his, firing up your quirk.

“It’s good to see you’re not too hurt,” you mention.

“Yeah, the mission went well,” he explains.

“Really, is that so?” you respond. You’re doubtful it truly went well, considering how there’s less members than what they left with. Not wanting to outright ask about what happened, lest you learn of abhorrent details, you decide on a more subtle approach. “It’s just… I notice there’s some people missing, is all,” you carefully mention, almost in a whisper.

“Not the important ones. You trying to say you miss Muscular?” Dabi jokes.

“God no, I’m glad he’s not here,” you’re quick to respond.

“Besides, we caught a UA brat and the boss will convert him to our side. The kid will replace the others, once we let him out of the marble,” Compress boasts. There’s a sharp silence that takes over you upon hearing so and you halt all your moments. They kidnapped another person? What seems to be a child, at that?

The look of disappointment that flashes on your face is something Dabi won’t ever forget. You seem to wilt at the information, contrasting the still-fresh flower tucked in your hair. “I see,” you murmur.

They really put the kid in kidnapping, didn’t they?

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