Oh My God What If Hawks' Partner Was Inviting Him Over To Their House And Hawks Just Hears Screeching.

(AiA!AU) THE DEAL

There are two individuals Cesar is seen with on occasion: the pastor from St. Gabriel's church, and an older gentleman working in the Snakeskin Tavern. For the most part, he gets along quite well with the latter, and the two can be seen exchanging light-hearted quips during downtime at the bar. Going by the enigmatic nickname of "Six", the man seems to view Cesar as a mentee. Cesar likes him just fine The pastor…not as much. To the outside observer, it's unknown just what the exact nature of their mutual dislike is. However, after the reported death of Mark Heathcliff, the strained relationship only got even more thin…

Frostwind Swordsman ❄

𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐌𝐄

kinktober day 3: dubcon/noncon

pairing: toru oikawa x chubby reader

word count: 2.9k

a/n: this was originally suppose to be day 6 but i moved it up. it was also suppose to be more dubcon but theres noncon as well, plus a lot of yandere. college/uni au. this literally took all day to write. this is not proof read properly ₊˚✩‧₊˚♡‧₊˚

warnings: noncon turned dubcon, yandere oikawa, deluded oikawa, naive(trusting) reader, bestfriend oikawa!, coercion, extreme manipulation, pet names (good girl, princess, baby), unprotected sex, fingering, chubby reader (kinda? like all of my fics), smut, 18+, mdni / always check the warnings on my writing !

Oikawa was seeing red. Why were you standing so close to mad dog? Why were you laughing? Mad Dog isn't funny he isn't enough for you, he was. You're his. Are you doing this to upset him and make him angry, because it's working. Oikawa didn't think it could get worse, he was watching you on the other side of the gym, he was wrong, it got a million times worse when one of his fangirls ran up to him, blocking his view of you.

She started talking about something or other about his recent game, and he put on his regular charming face and pretended to listen, thanking her for her nice words. "I've actually got something for you," the girl says while moving and pulling something out of bag. That's when he saw it. Again. You. You had that beautiful smile on your face and was leaning into Mad Dog. He snapped.

"Excuse me," he says while walking past, basically shoving the poor girl. He couldn't care less about her or what she wanted to give him. He doesn't even notice her dejected face, all that matters is you.

Oikawa put on his award wining smile as he joined into your conversation. "Don't you have something to be doing Mad Dog?" He says through gritted teeth.

"Me and Kyotani were just talking about the recent match," you replied. You. Were you really sticking up for that idiot and why are you even calling him that? The only person who you should be talking to is him, congratulating him and telling him about how good he was. No one else matters, he was the best, he always is- apart from you, no one holds a candle to you.

His smile slightly falters for a brief second and you notice. "Are you okay Toru?" You could tell something was up, he always tries to smile even when he doesn't mean it, so seeing his smile flash to something you couldn't quite pinpoint you knew something was wrong. You've known Toru for so long and you're proud to admit that you know him the best out of everyone, even more than Hajime. After you've known someone so long, you learn everything about them, and you hope he knows everything about you. You hope he can hear your sincerity in what you say.

Oikawa genuinely smiles and his heart warms at your concern for him, you're just so perfect. The warmth quickly vanishing as soon as it appears when he see's Mad Dog right there, still next to you. "Of course I am okay Chibi-chan. Can i talk to you for a second?" You furrow your eyebrows trying to see if he's lying but in the end you agree and follow behind him.

Toru has called you Chibi-chan since you were kids, it use to annoy you but you've grown fond of the nickname knowing he means it as a term of term of endearment. No matter how much you grew he was always growing more. You never liked the nickname when you were children, some times he would compare you to mochi and you didn't like that more, always reminding you that you were slightly bigger than the other kids.

One day you asked him why he called you it and that it made you sad, he looked absolutely horrified. You don't think you've ever seen him so upset but before you could think about it much he just rushed out - "it's because you're so cute and tiny just like a chibi character. Real pretty," you've never seen him so uncomposed and you couldn't help but giggle, making your face hurt with how wide you were smiling. After that you decided to like that nickname, your best friend thinks you're cute and pretty and he likes the way you look of course you would like him calling you that. After that Oikawa decided he loved you.

You're still following behind but he's walking so quickly, his legs are just too bloody long. "Toru slow down! I can't keep up." you say while pouting. You looked around and couldn't even tell where he was taking you, you were walking in the direction of a part of campus you've never been before, without Toru being here you would be completely lost.

Oikawa turns around, smiles at you and grabs your hand. "Sorry Mochi-chan. I just wanted to go somewhere private, away from everyone." Oikawa rubs his thumb on your hand but realises what he's doing as he sees your posture change and your body relax into his touch, smirking, "come on, there's this really special spot just on the outside of campus, it's basically a little forest, you'll really like it." He says while he keeps hold of your hand and starts walking again.

It feels like you've been walking for ever, and it's mainly in silence, with anyone else it would be uncomfortable but with Toru it never is.

You're sure it would just be easier to go back to one of your places but you don't question, Toru probably has a reason.

Maybe once you get him alone you'll be able to tell him about Kyotani, you really like him, like a lot. You know Toru is really popular so you hope he'll be able to help you work up the courage and flirt with him, maybe then you'll be able to spend more time with Kyotani.

Toru was right you really did like the forest, it was really pretty and Toru picked an amazing place, you're not really surprised though, he always knows what you would like.

You both were glad when you arrived, you pulled your hand away from his, he got annoyed but you turned that around when he saw you smile at the scenery. You looked really happy to be here, Oikawa hopes you're happy to be here with him.

Oikawa finds a nice place for you both to sit down but you're slightly wary about getting dirty, this is a new skirt you're wearing. Oikawa looks up at you and laughs at you knowing why you're not sitting down. He grabs your hand and pulls you down, laughing more. "Toru! this is a new skirt!" You whine.

"Yes, you look very pretty chibi-chan and it looks very nice," he says while laughing more. Your whining turns into a laugh. Oikawa looks down as he tries to formulate his words, he honestly doesn't even know what he's doing here, he has no plan and normally he knows exactly what to say but right now he just can't.

You're so focused looking around at the trees that you don't see Toru's troubled face, if you did you he knows you would have asked if he was okay again.

Oikawa takes your hand, startling you and clasps it, holding onto you like he's afraid you'll leave him. He knows you won't, you never would leave him. He still struggling what to say but he looks at you and it all disappears, you squeeze his hands with a worried look and he knows he can tell you anything and you will understand.

"I'm in love with you. I always have been and I always be will. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier but I was nervous, I thought you would know. we're meant to be together baby, just you and me." Oikawa spoke with so much conviction it took you back.

Toru. Toru Oikawa. He's telling you he's in love with you. Your best friend. This is a lot to a handle. You're speechless and you don't know what to say, you're sitting there looking at him and you can't even think.

Oikawa's trying to be patient, he understands it's a lot, his patience is slowing running thin though. He knows how much you struggle getting your words out but this shouldn't be so hard, just tell him you feel the same.

"Toru... i love you, but i dont... I'm really sorry Toru I love you and I always will love you but not that way." You say softly, not meeting his eyes.

Oikawa starts panicking, you're wrong. You love him, why don't you understand that. He's absolutely freaking out, but then you keep on talking and it only gets worse. "I actually was going to ask you about Kyotani, I like him, I know it's not the same as you feel and I'm just overwhelmed."

That's it. Oikawa see's red, he completely snaps. "You don't mean that Chibi-chan, you love me. I know I surprised you and I am very sorry but you love me." Oikawa says darkly, grabbing hold onto your chin looking you in the eyes.

You start panicking, Toru's scaring you, a lot, he's not breaking eye contact and even though he sounds angry, you look into his eyes it all seems too sweet as well. His eyes are mean but show fondness, like he truly thinks he's telling you the truth. He's gripping on your chin entirely too strong and you're starting to feel sick. You're really scared and you don't understand. Toru would never hurt you.

"Toru you're scaring me, I'm scared, please let me go." You start sobbing, trying to move away from him but he's too strong.

"Oh, oh baby. shh, shh. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, I've got you." He pulls you into your chest stroking your back but it does little to help. Toru always knows how to help but this time it's not working.

"Toru, please. this isn't right." That is not what Oikawa wanted to hear. He grabs hold of your hair and yanks you up to look at him, he's not trying to hurt you, but it's still stings.

"Stop." Oikawa yells. You haven't seen him yell like this in a long time. He's been mad before, mainly about volleyball but it's never been directed at you. Oikawa presses his forehead against yours and whispers, "you're just confused Chibi-chan, I'll show you. I'll show you how much you love me."

He's right, you are confused, what does he mean that he's going to show you.

Oikawa pushes you back against the tree carefully so not to hurt you, caging his arms around you. You're momentarily stunned, then realising what he's planning on doing you start squirming and kicking trying to get away.

Oikawa doesn't appreciate that and holds you down, he knows you can't do much damage he's much stronger than you and you don't even really want to get away so he doesn't worry about. You're his good girl. If you were being more cooperative you'd have your first time together on his bed, if you were more cooperative he'd take your clothes off slowly. he rips your clothes off you, there's no need to worry though because he'll buy you new clothes. He's staring at you, taking in every inch of your body, just as beautiful as he imagined, and all his. You're like a greek goddess, you look so soft and you look stunning out of breath, he can't wait to see you out of breath out of pleasure.

Oikawa kisses you, you're still kicking and not kissing him back. Oikawa bites onto your lip hard and you yelp in pain, he takes this opportunity and shoves his tongue in your mouth with vigour. You're still not reciprocating, trying to push against him but he's in heaven, you're so perfect. He only stops when he needs air.

Shoving your underwear down your legs he puts his hands between your thighs, as he lightly touches your body, pressing his face against your neck. You're getting goosebumps from his heavy breathing and you start pushing and pleading even louder, shouting for him to stop and scratching him, you didn't realise this only spurred him on.

Oikawa chuckles as he finally touches your pussy. "Fuck baby, you're so wet, let me do this okay. Stop fighting okay princess, I know you want this." You never stop kicking and you never stop screaming.

Oikawa doesn't stop touches you, no matter how much you try to make him. He sticks two fingers in you without any warning making you scream.

Oikawa knows exactly what to do. Why wouldn't he, he knows your body better than anyone. His chibi-chan is so special and no one has ever made you feel better than him, and no one else ever will. You'll be together forever. He keeps plunging his fingers into you at a steady pace, constantly hitting your g-spot. "Shit princess, you're so warm. Your pretty pussy is clenching so tight." Oikawa knows you feel good, he knows you're only pretending to try and get away but he feels you clenching around him and knows you're close. He's smiling, he knows you'll come around, you're meant for him. "Come on baby, just for me, let go. Show me how good I make you."

You hate it. You hate him. Why is Toru doing this? Why is your body doing this? As soon as he says 'let go' you cum. You can't stop sobbing, why is this happening?

Oikawa kisses your neck and smiles, "good girl, good girl. You've done so good for me." He kisses your forehead and strokes your cheek, you just want him to stop. Your limbs are getting heavy, it feels like you've been hitting him forever, why isn't it working? Why is no one hearing you screaming? You're out in the middle of nowhere, no ones around. It's basically remote with no one wanting to walk this far to get to some small forest, but surely there must be someone, anybody. You're throat is getting hoarse and you're losing your fight. You want him to kiss you again.

Oikawa takes this as a good sign, you're finally giving into your feelings. "Good girl. I promise I'll keep making you feel good." You feel something at your entrance as Oikawa slowly makes his way into you. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he says under his breath. "You feel amazing Chibi-chan, so good, so perfect. I love you. I love you." Oikawa says against your lips, thrusting into you slowly and holding onto your waist. He keeps his pace, slow but hard, it's making you dizzy.

He's in heaven. Oikawa starts rubbing small circles on your clit and grabs one of your breasts with his other hand, putting his mouth around your nipple and bites hard, making you moan loudly. "Chibi-chan, you make such beautiful noises. I never knew you were so dirty." He says, mumbling against your breast. you can practically hear his smile.

He sped up his thrusts and the sudden shock makes you moan again. You pushed your hand against your mouth, trying to stop any noises coming out. "None of that, let me hear your pretty noises." Oikawa pushes your hand away and as soon as he does you groan. You bite your lip to stop yourself but it doesn't help, soon the noises come out anyway and you can't stop it. Oikawa is overjoyed.

You don't want this, you don't. He's making you feel so good though.

You wish you had more fight in you, you don't. Oikawa has you, now he just has to make sure you stay.

"I love you baby, so much. No else will ever love you like I do. No one will ever protect you like I do. I've been with you forever, I've never left your side Chibi-chan and I never will. You're perfect and kind and you're the most gorgeous girl I've ever laid my own upon, you're the only one i want. You want me too right?" Oikawa says to you, looking you in the eyes.

Toru kept talking. He has always been there for you, he's always by your side. He always protected you from bullies when you were younger, he always knows how to make you feel better. He's making you feel so good, better than anyone ever has. He can have any girl that he wants and he wants you, Toru chose you. "Yes, yes please Toru. I love you."

Oikawa didn't expect you to have a love confession realisation yet but you've realised you're his. He's yours. Oikawa starts crying he's so happy, you are his good girl after all.

"Shit, you're so good for me. So perfect." He says as tears are running down your face, your eyes are all blurry and you so desperately want to cum again.

You keep chanting his name over and over again. "Toru, Toru, wanna cum, please make me cum," you whine grabbing onto his shirt.

"Of course sweet thing, I've got you Chibi-chan," he whispers as he pushes one more time against your g-spot and that does it for you your back arches as you see white, everything feels so good. You hear Toru groan your name as he releases in you.

He stays in you, as he lays on you as you both are catching your breath. Toru's playing with your hair and kisses your head. "I love you baby. I'm sorry if I was too rough." He said he's sorry, he didn't mean to make you cry. You both know that you'll always forgive him.

Summer 2022 KFP gijinka studies ~

Once again thank you to NOT use and repost my art, really, I’ll see it.

Strange Cats

Scrambled

Yandere Hawks x reader

Content warnings: Yandere Hawks, Dubious consent, implied imprisonment, fake egg laying, breeding kink.

🥚

So we all agree Yan!Hawks has a breeding kink, right? Right.

But... Birds lay eggs.

Picture this: Hawks shoving a collection of little egg shaped vibes inside of you. He crams as many of them in there as he can. Then he plugs you up, ties you down, and leaves you there for hours. You're left alone, writhing and shaking as the vibrations absolutely wreck you. No safeword, no mercy, and no way to escape the vibrators logged deep inside you as they rearrange your guts.

Eventually your capture returns. You're a trembling, over stimulated mess on the nest bed, and he's never seen you looking better! It gets him so hard seeing you all full up with his eggs. Your belly bulging, thighs shaking, and that pretty hole of yours all plugged up. Keeping his brood good and safe like a good little breeding hole.

Such a perfect mate! He's sure you'll do just as good laying them for him.

Hawks pulls you up so your sat on your knees in the center of the bed. He has to support you, because your legs are still wobbly from the last several hours, but he doesn't mind. He pulls you tight to his chest, pops that plug out, and starts pushing down on the top of you bulging stomach.

"Yeah sweetheart. Push them out for me. You're doing so good now." He croons in your ear.

You can feel him pressed up against you. He's hard and throbbing, rutting against your ass, but he's careful not to get in the way of you "laying" the eggs.

Between Hawks' rutting, the pressure on your stomach, and the still on going vibrations from the eggs you're inundated with sensations. The easiest thing to do is give in and lay the eggs, so you do.

It's a lot of effort. Your muscles are all exhausted from the last several hours and a few orgasms. Still, you bare down and push.

The vibrators are surprisingly hard to push out. Eventually thought the first one shifts down and starts to drop. You can feel it the whole way out. It runs up against your sensitive walls as it slides down. The vibrations causing you to shudder and sob.

Hawks just shushes you, eager for the main event.

The first egg pops out in a gush of fluid. Hawks had been kind enough to use quite alot of lube when he was cramming you full. Now it's dribbling down your thighs and making a mess of the bed sheets.

Once the first egg slides out, which was both a strange sensation and a pleasant release of some of the pressure inside of you, you start pushing in ernest. You're tired. You want this to be over with. You want to finish up and go to sleep already.

The moment Hawks sees the first egg he goes feral. He grabs your jaw, wrenches you head around, and devours your slack mouth. In-between kisses he's snarling and panting in you ear. "Oh, oh fuck! Yeah baby, you're doing so good. Keep pushing, keep fucking pushing! I want to see you lay our eggs! Fuck!"

The next one slides out a little easier. Your body has adjusted to the movements necessary and the feelings becomes retinue. Soon enough another egg is slipping from you body. Then another.

You lose yourself in a haze after that. You push until an egg slides out, Hawks gets excited, showers you with affection, then shoves down on your belly to begin the dance anew.

When the last egg slips out in a dribble of fluid you assume that's it. You're finished. There's nothing left inside of you. Hawks' hands keep pressing on your middle for a moment, trying to encourage you to push, before the lack of internal vibrations register.

He counts the eggs laying between your spread knees, and moans. Then he wrenches you backwards until you're seated on his cock.

"Look at them. LOOK AT THEM!" He grabs your chin and forces it downwards so you can see. "Look at our brood. Ours. My perfect mate, I filled you up so well, and you took it all! Fuck! All mine, you're mine!"

All you can feel is his thick cock splitting you open, and his swollen balls slapping into you with every thrust. He's hitting you so hard and deep. It's like he's trying to carve the shape of himself inside of you. Distently you realize the punched out noises your making are breathy gasps and screams. You can't hear anything except Keigo though. He commands every bit of you.

He litters you neck with sharp nips and bites. Both sides of it will be black and blue by morning, but for now all you can do is slump against him like a ragged little fuck doll as he uses you.

He slides one hand between your legs, and that's all it takes. Your climax washes over you in an electric wave so powerful that you black out. There's a roaring in your ears, and then nothing.

-

You come back to yourself sometime later. It could have been seconds, or hours. All you know is you and Hawks are still kneeling above the eggs, and he's still positioning away inside of you. You can feel it as he slams into you one last time, and then stills. He's balls deep and throbbing as he cums. The warmth squirting sensitive places inside of you, but he doesn't let you escape. Even as you writhed and begged he held you until he was certain you took all of his seed.

Then he pulled you down, and laid your shivering body down on a dry part of the mattress. He was still nestled deep inside, keeping his cum in, and pressed up against your back. It jostleled you when he lent over and began switching off the eggs one by one.

"Looks like I'll have to recharge them for next time." He sighed.

Ice flooded your veins. "Next time?"

"Oh Babybird," he chuckled. "You didn't think this was a one off thing, did you? I have a whole 'nother box of these we haven't even opened yet. I'm thinking of working you up to double didgets . Doesn't that sound fun?" He asked in a mocking coo.

A quick count of the eggs spread out on the bed informed you that there had only been five inside of you. Hawks wanted to double that.

"No." You wheezed, but he only laughed.

You both knew he wasn't giving you a choice.

Both of them are so damn sweet.

A Dance With the Dragon I — The Tides Beckon

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

[Part I — You are here] [Part II] [Part III] [Part IV]

The last thing you expected was to have caught the eye of Fontaine’s Chief Justice. You have no choice but to be swept into the dragon’s dance.

Warnings: Yandere tendencies, possessive behavior, forced imprisonment, unrequited relationship

It all started with your realization that Fontaine has some rather intriguing laws.

For as long as you could recall, you had aspired to become a marine biologist. Though you hailed from Mondstadt, you forged your curiosity in the tide pools and lakes around the edges of the region. You scoured over any novel you could find on marine ecology and animal behavior, spending endless hours lost in the Knights of Favonius library. On your thirteenth birthday, your parents bought you a Kamera, which launched your career in wildlife photography and research. You even went on to publish a book cataloguing pictures of your nation’s aquatic life. It came to no one’s surprise, then, when you were gifted with a hydro vision.

Although you loved your life in Mondstadt, the vast waters that surrounded the Land of Hydro beckoned you like the pull of a tide. So, on your twenty-fifth birthday, you parted with your family and homeland, traversing across Teyvat and experiencing its many wonders. You relished in the culture and cuisine in Liyue and marveled at the natural architecture of Sumeru’s forests. Yet nothing would ever be as breathtaking as your first glimpse at Fontaine, at the granite peaks rising above the crystalline waters teeming with life of all forms.

You had secured employment with a group researching the sudden uptick in seal strandings across the nation, taking you across Fontaine’s many beaches. Your main base was located near Romaritime Harbor, which prompted you to spend your lunch breaks exploring the Court of Fontaine.

You made quick friends with the Melusines, some of whom were still a bit nervous being around humans; however, you found their stories of the ocean fascinating and often invited them to join you for lunches or strolls through the city.

One in particular, Carole, had become your close friend after you encountered her being pelted with rocks by a mob of Fontainians. You didn’t hesitate to use your vision to immobilize the rocks and create a barrier around Carole, quickly ushering her to safety. You couldn’t comprehend the prejudices directed towards her and the other Melusines, but after that incident, you made sure to keep an eye out for all of your little friends.

One day, on one of your walks, you ran into said Melusine. She seemed despondent that only a handful of citizens were interested in her hand painted posters, so you decided to treat her to lunch and pastries to cheer her up. That’s when you first caught wind of the Hydro Dragon.

“Well, if you’re worried about the seals, you might call upon the Hydro Sovereign himself!” Carole chirped.

You tipped your head curiously, lowering the cup in your hands onto the cafe table. “Don’t you mean herself? Although I’ve never met the Hydro Archon, I’ve heard others refer to her as ‘Lady’ Furina.”

Carole shook her hands back and forth in front of her. “Oh, no, I mean the Hydro Dragon! He is responsible for keeping watch over Fontaine, which includes all of its resources and residents. I’ve heard that with every sea creature that passes, the heavens open and the dragon sheds his tears in mourning.” She took a bite of her croissant. “I have a feeling he’d be willing to help.”

You tapped your chin in thought. “You don’t say. Well, we are in a bit of a drought, which could be contributing to the beachings… Perhaps I’ll ask this Hydro Sovereign for his favor.”

On the days you were dispatched to Fontaine’s eastern beaches, you opted to sit by the Fountain of Lucine to wish for the Hydro Dragon’s help. It had become a tradition for you to do so ever since your conversation with Carole, for you swore that every time you prayed to his name, rain would grace the shores the next day.

During those research trips, your coworkers would invite you to attend trials at the Opera Epiclese, though you politely declined each time. You had no particular interest in the Opera and were much more inclined to spending your time outside and uninvolved with the court’s theatrics. Besides, you considered yourself to be a model citizen, so the proceedings of the court were beyond your worries.

Or so you thought.

~*~

The incident that led to your arrest was the violation of the order “no domestic pets shall be named after Furina”. Apparently the otter that paddled around the Harbor each morning was undignified of the title of “Focalotter”. You had thought the name quite clever and humorous—that is, until a horde of Gardes surrounded you during your shift one afternoon.

You were detained and led into the Opera immediately, which was where you currently found yourself. You frowned at the relatively large crowd—which, much to your dismay, included most of your coworkers—dispersed throughout the hall. Had they all come just to spectate your trial? Standing alone on the isolated balcony, you felt like an insect under a magnifying glass, an insignificant pest to be probed at for entertainment.

“And how do you plead?”

The deep, commanding voice above you wrenched you from your thoughts. Turning your eyes up, your (e/c) orbs were met with a penetrating gaze.

Pinning you with his lavender and silver eyes from atop his chair at the center of the court was none other than the Chief Justice of Fontaine, the Iudex himself, the face of the law in the Court. Monsieur Neuvillette.

This wasn’t your first interaction with the man.

Shortly your move to Fontaine, you had stumbled across his path. At first, it was just sightings from afar; he would be leaving the Opera, or purchasing a drink (Wait, is he paying for water?) from your favorite cafe. Your favorite flowers also began to appear at your doorstep, each time with a brief, cryptic note, usually something along the lines of To my little pearl —Sincerely, your guardian dragon. You didn’t think anything of it; if anything, it confirmed that your prayers to the Hydro Sovereign had been heard.

Then, however, Neuvillette began to periodically show up around your research stations, claiming to be investigating a court case. Even though the Iudex’s public appearances were supposedly rare, none of your coworkers, yourself included, thought to question his authority, answering his inquiries regarding the base’s activities to the best of your abilities.

You noticed that he tended to speak to you the most, even asking personal inquiries like your favorite drinks, foods, books, and hobbies, and about your marine photography especially. It must be part of the investigation, you rationalized. He was nothing but gentlemanly and always kept conversations curt and to the point, offering you a gentle smile as he departed.

If only you knew the true extent of his desires.

~*~

Naturally, he first caught wind of you from the Melusines. As his closest advisor, Carole regularly joined him for afternoon tea, and though he was not one for idle talk, the manner in which his friend spoke of you sparked his intrigue.

“And when those meanies were throwing rocks at me, (Y/n) was the only one who intervened! If it weren’t for her, I don’t know what would have happened…” Carole rubbed her head, as if remembering the sharp pain.

Neuvillette placed a hand over his heart. “I am eternally grateful for her presence. I cannot stand the thought of any harm befalling you.” The hydro dragon looked out the window of his study to the ocean, deep in thought. “Perhaps you could introduce me. It appears I have much to thank her for.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Carole raised a finger. “She mentioned lots of seal beachings recently, so I suggested that requesting rain from a certain dragon could assist her work!”

Neuvillette nodded, a slight smile pulling at his lips. “Ah, so that is why I’ve been hearing Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon echoing throughout my mind the past few weeks. You have quite the imagination, my friend.”

Carole shrugged playfully. “Hasn’t it been raining more often lately? Seems like her prayers worked!”

That they had, as Neuvillette could attest to.

The first time he heard your soft voice calling to him, he had sent rain the following morning—not for you, but for the seals. His position barred him from forming close relationships with humans, so the notion of attending to your inquiry face-to-face was eliminated immediately.

But when you returned again and again to implore for rain, he couldn’t deny his interest. The day after Carole informed him that his little supplicant and Carole’s hero were one in the same, he knew he had to meet you. He had actually left the Opera to see you for himself; whether he would actually converse with you was still uncertain, but your voice tickled an itch that he needed to scratched.

Neuvillette was an experienced and composed man, but setting his sights on you for the first time stole his breath. This, he thought, must be what it feels like to drown.

Your smile shone brighter than a Beryl conch, and your scent floated around him, sweeter than any marcotte. The light shimmering from the hydro vision on your hip reflected back in your eyes, giving them the appearance of twin pools of blue. You were sitting on a bench by the Fountain, a Kamera in hand as you gestured excitedly towards the screen. To your right was a Melusine he knew well, Kiara, who was clearly enraptured with the technology.

Though he knew of your kindness towards the Melusines—jumping in to save Carole alone was grounds for a medal of peace—seeing it before him sent the waters around his heart roiling. The Iudex was moved by the fact that, despite being a foreigner to Fontaine’s customs, you treated them with the utmost respect, going out of your way to befriend and include them in your daily life. Many citizens of Fontaine still harbored prejudice against the Melusines, but you… You even used she/her pronouns when referring to them, implementing the very law that he set forth.

“I use this for my research on seal behavior and conservation,” you explained to Kiara. “Having pictures of each individual helps us identify them in the future. We even give them silly names sometimes. See this one here? We call him Mr. Sealie, and this otter I like to call…”

When the pink Melusine started giggling over the nickname of your otter, a plan formed in his mind.

Whether attributable to his sense of justice or his draconic instincts, he knew one thing for certain. Like a shining pearl, you must be cherished and protected—and who better to serve than the Hydro Sovereign?

~*~

Those eyes will be my downfall.

Purple and silver locked with (e/c). Despite being newly appointed to the court, Neuvillette was the embodiment of both poise and intimidation. The very air around him seemed to shimmer with power and unyielding authority. His breathtaking eyes swirled with emotions—was that desire or disinterest?—you could not even begin to decipher in your current position.

Archons, help me.

You cleared your throat, hoping you didn’t appear too nervous in front of the judge. “Although I admit to using a version of the Hydro Archon’s name when referring to that otter, I was unaware of such a law against doing so. I’m not originally from Fontaine, so some of its, uh…lesser discussed laws are new to me.”

Neuvillette gazed around the courtroom as the crowd devoured the trial before them. It was baffling how naive humans could be sometimes; of course there was no rule against applying a silly nickname to a pet.

That is, until this morning when he had signed it into law.

Seeing you frightened and alone in the defendant’s box, however, was torture. It took all of his willpower to not to engulf you in his strong arms like waves around sand. But he had to maintain the facade of immovable judicator for a bit longer in order to mold you to his tide. Retaining his mask of composure, Neuvillette continued, “You do realize that previous defendants have been jailed for far less, correct?”

Frustration and fear flared within you. “But I—”

“Desecration of Lady Furina’s name is of the highest offense. Your behavior will not be excused, neither by myself nor the Oratrice.” Neuvillette raised the paper with your verdict, barely glancing over the words before he spoke. “The verdict stands: you, (Y/n) (L/n), are guilty.”

You clenched your fists heatedly. There was no arguing with the Iudex. Clearly, the polite and considerate version of Neuvillette that you had encountered earlier was an anomaly, for the figure looming above you was the complete opposite. Cold, calculating. Distant. A whirlpool cresting a bottomless sea.

Had this been his plan all along? Had you been the subject of his investigation? But why?

“However, because you are not from Fontaine, I will offer you a choice.”

You blinked up at the Justice, a knot of unease forming in your stomach. A choice? What choice did you truly have here? You pursed your lips warily but nodded for him to continue.

Neuvillete raised a gloved finger. “The first: you will serve a life sentence in the Fortress of Meropide.”

A wave of despair seared your insides like a brand. That was your fate? To be trapped beneath the region where you had always longed to live, never to feel the salty wind on your face or hear the calls of seals and gulls again? Surely, the second option was less cruel?

“Or, alternatively: you will dedicate your life to the court. You will abide by its laws without question and with unwavering commitment. You will relinquish your freedom; you will not be permitted to leave Fontaine and will be bound to this place for eternity.”

A choked sob escaped your lips. No matter what you chose, your life’s work and passion would be extinguished. You would be forced to either become an actress in the court’s performance or resign your soul to a watery grave.

Both option chained you to the Region of Hydro forever.

But one option at least granted you a semblance of freedom—a notion that you soon learned was as transitory as a bubble in water.

The crack of a cane against wood resounded through the Opera, quickly silencing the crowd’s mutterings over your sentence. “What is your decision?”

You could have heard a pin drop as the audience waited in rapt anticipation for your answer.

“I…I choose the latter,” you declared, tilting your chin up. You maintained direct eye contact with the Iudex all the while, holding onto your last bit of pride.

You could have sworn you saw Neuvillette release a breath of relief. “Very well. I hereby adjourn the court. Gardes, please escort the defendant to my office for further instruction.”

Two Gardes led you out of the Opera and onto an Aquabus to the city. They informed you that you would now be living in the Palais Mermonia and your duties would begin immediately. When you asked about retrieving your belongings and notifying your family, the Gardes exchanged glances.

“That won’t be necessary,” one said cryptically. “Monsieur Neuvillette will page your relatives and have your possessions seized.”

You frowned, wishing to object, but the Palais doors loomed before you like the entrance to a monster’s lair. You gulped but swallowed your fears, straightening your back pridefully as you were ushered inside and into the Chief Justice’s office. The bolting of the lock from the outside set alarm bells off immediately.

Neuvillette stood from his seat as you walked in. He coughed awkwardly, red dusting across his pale complexion. “Ah, Lady (Y/n). I do apologize for such a fast-paced series of events. You must be exhausted.” He motioned towards the sofa adjacent to his workspace. “Please, sit.”

You blinked at him in surprise. What happened to the unwavering judge from the court? Why was he suddenly treating you kindly? And why in the Archons’ names was he blushing of all things? Unsure how else to react, you obeyed and settled into your seat, with Neuvillette taking his own on the sofa across from you.

Neuvillette poured you a glass of what appeared to be plain water into an exquisitely ornamented cup. You took it wordlessly, noticing his eyes flare with a silver glow when your fingers brushed his own. Gripping his own cup, he raised the chalice towards you. “To a long and dedicated future together.”

You sketched a brow curiously but raised your glass in tandem to…whatever that was supposed to mean. “To not being in prison, I guess.”

“Indeed.” A breathy chuckle followed. “Now, I’m sure you’re wondering as to what this whole business regarding your sentence is.” Neuvillette took a long sip from his chalice. He frowned slightly when you simply placed yours on the coffee table separating the two of you. “Although you may have thought you’d be completing droll office work, your duties will be a tad unorthodox.”

At this, your brows furrowed. Wasn’t that what all those employees you had passed in the Palais foyer had been doing—pushing papers? You had cringed at the dark bags under many of their eyes, at how many were asleep at their desks, imagining how similar you’ll look once your sentence was completed. But based on Neuvillette’s words, it sounded like you would be doing something very different.

Oh, Archons. I’m fucked.

You braced yourself to speak, but Neuvillette beat you to it.

“You are to be my wife.”

You blinked once, twice, waiting for the punchline of the joke.

Neuvillette merely stared at you with his hands folded across his lap, waiting for your response.

After a pregnant pause, you couldn’t help the stunned scoff that escaped your lips. “You can’t be serious.”

“Quite, I’m afraid.”

You shook your head. “With all due respect, Monsieur—”

“Please, call me Neuvillette.”

Ignoring him, you continued, “I did not agree to be your wife.”

The Chief Justice leaned back against the posh blue cushions of the sofa. “Although that may be the case, you are in no position to refuse. In fact, your sentence mandates that you follow my orders.”

You stood abruptly, sending your goblet toppling over and spilling its contents across the table. “Marriage was not a part of that sentence.” Which was ridiculous to begin with, you added to yourself. I mean, a life sentence for a pet name? It’s almost like he wanted me arrested.

Neuvillette sighed and flicked his wrist, causing the chalice to right itself and the water to refill. “Marriage is the highest form of dedication, no? Is that not what you pledged to?”

“I dedicated my life to the court,” you clarified.

“My dear, I am the court.”

You emitted a low hiss, turning to the door. “I’m leaving.”

Before you could take more than a step, Neuvillette moved towards you faster than a crack of lightning across the sea. His large frame straddled yours, pinning you against the sofa. He grabbed your dominant wrist, a foreign bubbling under your skin erecting the hairs on your arms. Your mind reached out for your hydro powers to defend yourself, only to be crushed with the realization that your vision had been confiscated at the court.

Despite your struggles, you could only watch in terror as a glowing silver-blue mark in the shape of a dragon burned across the length of your arm. The leviathan’s scaly body twisted in ringlets up your forearm and bicep, ending in a slender head with twin horns that crested your shoulder.

As soon as Neuvillette loosed his grip, you shoved him away, panting heavily. The mark had already disappeared, but you could still feel the ghost of it under your skin.“What have you done?” you whispered breathlessly.

In total contrast to your own contorted expression, Neuvillette appeared completely calm. He smoothed out his robes and adjusted his jabot. “I have lived for centuries, and I have many centuries more. I’ve merely gifted some of them to you.”

Your body began to shake, from fear, sadness, or rage you did not know. “I don’t want them.”

“You do remember that you promised to serve the court for eternity, don’t you? How do you expect to persist by my side otherwise?”

Eyes locked on the exit, you tried for a different tactic. “Take me to the Fortress of Meropide.”

Neuvillette’s expression darkened, his patience clearly thinning. “I will not.”

Your eyes shifted back to his. Although Neuvillette intimidated you beyond belief, you’d be damned if you didn’t go down without fighting for your life’s hard work. “I want to change my sentence.”

He glanced down at your arm. “It’s a bit too late for that, my dear.” Taking your hand in his, he pulled you to his chest. His form towered over you, capable of resting his chin on the top of your head. “Please, understand. I mean to keep you from harm, even if it means being your jailor.”

“You’re insane,” you hissed, futility attempting to pull away. “Let go of me!”

Neuvillette’s grip was relentless. You stilled when you felt claws ghost up your back in a silent warning. “That is one thing I will never do.”

The fight in you slowly ebbed away—for now. Your resistance was clearly moot, like a gnat trying to down a dragon. You’d have to play the long game to learn how to get under his skin—and how to rid your own of this new mark. “I will find a way out of this,” was all you could promise, refusing to meet his eyes.

A deep sigh sounded above you. Neuvillette took a step back, looking at you with such longing you thought you’d combust on the spot. With one last stroke of your cheek, he strode towards the office’s exit and unlocked the door with a flick of his wrist. Looking over his shoulder, he fixed you with a forlorn gaze. “By the time you realize your place here, there will be nothing for you to escape to. Only I will remain.” He once more turned his back to you and stepped out of the room.

You suddenly paled, realizing the implication of his words. If his declaration was true and you were to live as long as him, then your family, your career, the world as you know it would be completely gone. Your only company, your only solace, the only one who would remember your name, would be him. “Wait, no, you can’t—!”

He closed the doors.

~*~

Neuvillette was many things, but a liar was not one of them.

True to his word, you remained locked almost exclusively in the Palais Mermonia. On the rare occasions he let you outside, the Iudex served as your only company, diligently making sure you were hidden. Your vision was permanently taken, supposedly to prevent danger to yourself. It didn’t go unnoticed when he would wear it on his hip at important or potentially volatile trials. When you finally asked—or growled at him, really—why he kept it on his person, he had merely frowned and replied, “I originally thought the idea of a fake vision preposterous, I admit. I have no need for one. Yet having it feels as if you are constantly by my side.”

The draconic tattoo he had branded onto your arm not only extended your lifespan but also gave you a minuscule drop of his abilities—though only when you were in his presence (and most definitely not against him—you had tried). That allowed the two of you to transport to and breath in the depths of Fontaine whenever you begged to go out. In his mind, it was perfect—not only was the sea his realm, but no one and nothing could touch you. You were his alone to hold, to see, to have.

Those trips were torture for you. Free, but trapped; floating, but tied down to the man who was supposed to be the symbol of justice.

You, on the other hand, had tried a variety of (fruitless) tactics to convince the judge to free you. Any attempt at conversation or advance in his part was met with either vitriol or indifference on your part. You had once tried to charm him into letting his guard down, hoping you could sneak away while he was preoccupied at the court. This plan epically backfired on you when he mistook your subtle touches as permission to devour you with kisses and love bites, covering you in bruises from his sharp teeth for the next week. You wouldn’t so much as let him tap your shoulder for the next month after—the spark of silver in his eyes while he kissed you foretold of a deep, overwhelming desire that far surpassed simple kisses. You feared what might occur if the composed Chief Justice were given the opportunity to release his more primal urges.

And so, each day was passed much in the same:

1) Wake up on the floor or couch of his suite in the Palais—like hell you’d be sharing a bed with him. Oh, how he had tried in the beginning to usher you into bed, into his arms. It was childish, yes, but at least your refusal have you some semblance of autonomy.

2) Ponder on how you would greet Neuvillette that day.

3) Choose between fury or pretending he didn’t exist, typically the latter.

4) Look for a way to escape after he left for the Opera. Fail.

5) Spend most of the day scouring court cases in his office for clues to overturn your cause. Fail again.

6) Look out the window pitifully at the water beyond the Court of Fontaine (were the levels rising?). You often thought of your family back in Mondstadt; what were they told of your imprisonment, if anything? How long had you been stuck with the Chief Justice? The days blurred like ink in water.

7) Immediately exit the office towards his attached suite the moment he returned—any other room was preferable to his suffocating presence.

Today, though, he had chosen to interrupt your musings out the window before you could make your exit.

“You know, I find the beauty of the bright sunlight is best appreciated from the indoors through a window.”

Turning your head from the glass pane, your attention was brought to the figure standing in the doorway. He was wearing nothing but a simple pair of dark blue slacks and a white tunic, his robes hooked over his arm. At the start of your captivity you had mused how strange it was to see him without his normal ornamentation; now his comparatively plain appearance was a daily sight for you.

You crossed your arms and leaned against the window, relishing the heat from the coastal sun against your back. It was nothing like the dark pits he practically dragged you to now that you could breathe underwater. “Personally, I prefer to enjoy it with the company of a cool breeze by the shoreline.”

The Chief Justice loosed a deep sigh as he approached you. He extended his palm, caressing your cheek gently. “If you desire it so, I will rearrange some meetings and escort you—”

Below the waves, where he clung to you like a Lumitoile to a rock? “No need. Present company would ruin the experience. I prefer to be above water.”

Neuvillette had the audacity to wince at your retort. “So you instead choose to wallow in your self-inflicted solitude?”

You wanted to laugh at the hurt edge to his voice. Self-inflicted your ass—every moment of your life now centered on him, depended on his permission. Solitude was a disguise for any reprieve you could get from his constant attempts to court you.

The ironic part was that, if he had approached you normally, you could have seen yourself falling for him. He brought and cooked your favorite foods and beverages, showered you with gifts and books on photography, and tried his utmost to make you comfortable.

But you knew it was as nothing but glitter in a gilded cage. Neuvillette had drowned your whole world. So no, you wouldn’t act like any of this is normal.

Resisting the urge to bite his bare hand, you glared at your captor. “You could simply, oh, I don’t know, let me go.”

Neuvillette’s jaw tightened. His patience might run deeper than the Trench of Elton, but it was not everlasting. “We’ve discussed this.”

At that, you shrugged his hand off. “Can I at least speak with my family? My friends?”

A pained look flickered across Neuvillette’s face. “That isn’t possible.”

Your lip curled in response to his expression. “Don’t act like you actually care.”

Pursing his lips, he settled onto the window seat next to you. Though you were twitching with the urge to escape, he placed a large hand on your thigh, a gentle warning. “(Y/n), there’s something we must discuss.”

You narrowed your eyes, though your heart rate spiked. By now, he recognized your silence as a sign to continue.

“Do you wish to walk around the Court of Fontaine with me?”

Blinking, your throat dried. You swore you heard him wrong. “I’m sorry?”

Neuvillette squeezed your leg in what he thought was a comforting manner. His eyes—fuck, you had to admit they were wickedly beautiful, silver and sharp as a sword—never left your own. “You have been justified in your anger with me. I have restricted you for far too long. I would like to extend an olive branch, if you will—an agreement that we will both retain civility. I will grant you freedoms, but you must adhere to your sentence. Any deviation will not be tolerated.”

Your head was spinning, so you didn’t even consider the implications of his words. He was letting you out. “Can we go now?”

Neuvillette smiled softly. “Of course.” Standing, he offered you a hand. You tentatively took it, more awestruck than anything as he unlocked the doors to the outside. You’d finally get to see your family, your colleagues, the sun—!

Fontaine was unrecognizable.

The last time you seen the square of the Statue of the Seven, the roads were cobblestone. Now, strange machines roamed the paved streets, clearly serving as sentinels. None of the shops or restaurants were familiar—your favorite coffee shop, where you had so many chats with Carole, was now boasting signs for upscale fashion. A Melusine hopped by, wearing a Garde’s uniform, something that you remembered as being rare due to the increased chances of them being targeted. Your heart rate spiked in worry when the Melusine approached a group of children and their parents, only for a stunned expression to hit you when the creature was hugged by a little girl, her parents cooing in delight.

“Where…what?” you stammered. Fontaine had seemingly changed overnight—at least in your experience of time. Dread pooled in your stomach.

You attempted to pull your arm away from him, but his grip on you was steadfast. That same pained look from before marred his handsome features. “I did not lie when I said you have nothing to return to.” The Chief Justice sounded melancholic—he wished it hadn’t come to this, but he had to eliminate any prompts for you to leave.

“No, no.” Your heart dropped. “What… What year is it?”

The silence that followed was all you needed to know.

“How many years has it been, Neuvillette?” you repeated, your voice cracking with a desperate tone.

For once, Neuvillette avoided eye contact with you. He simply gestured towards a bulletin board, where the latest issue of The Steambird (at least one thing was consistent) was posted. You tore it from its pin, choking back a sob as you read the date.

Hands shaking, the issue fell to the ground. It landed in a puddle, its edges slowing soaking and blurring the ink. A steady rain had started to fall, quickly turning into a torrential downpour.

It had been over four hundred years since Neuvillette had taken you.

If it weren’t for Neuvillete’s hand on your hip, you would have crumpled to your knees. “H-how?”

Neuvillete looked to the skies solemnly. “Time passes differently for us long-lived species.” You cringed at his use of us, and how he actually sounded remorseful. “But this is our opportunity for a fresh start.”

Silent tears streamed down your face. For what could you do? Everyone and everything you knew was gone. Lost to the sea of time forever. You had nothing.

He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, placing a delicate kiss on the top of your head. “Cry not, my little pearl. No matter how many centuries pass, you will always have me.”

~*~

Neuvillette was many things.

And now, just as he dreamed since the moment he set his eyes on you, he was your everything.

And yet, you refused to drown.

As the years flowed like water through a stream, you began to learn the beat of Neuvillette’s dance. His emotions, his moods, his thoughts, all reflected themselves within the waltz of his life, and soon maneuvering around the steps became second nature to you. The balance of power laid within the count, and you were determined to be the one leading,

The dragon wanted to dance? So be it.

You’d give him the most challenging dance of his life.

Ok, hear me out. Imagine the yandere bnha thinking that their darlings made something wrong/disobey them and when they deny it the boys get really angry and just aply a harsh punishment. So when they find out that she, in fact, didn't do anything wrong and that she wasn't lying, what would they do? I don't know if this is confusing but it's on my mind now. Could you write this for Bakugou, Izuku and Keigo pls??? ❤️

yandere ! BNHA imagines

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, abuse, anxiety, guilt, manipulation, slight mutilation, profanity, Stockholm syndrome

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

“Where’s the knife, Quirkless.” She would have flinched at the nickname if she hadn't gotten so used to it already, and though he had discarded of the title lately it still felt like a second skin to the girl.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't on edge, if he hadn't been looking for a flaw in the perfect evening. “Knife?” She turned to look at him, fiddling with the bow on her neck, the one fasting her apron.

“That was why you were so fucking persistent on helping me in the kitchen... wasn't it?” He looked hurt as he accused, voice only barely holding together, eyes a burning searing cold. “Just so you could take a fucking knife?” 

She wasn't understanding anything, and he’d know that if he’d believed the crinkle of confusion between her brows. 

“I thought we were making progress.” He sighed, cleary disappointed, seemingly contemplating what to do next, how he could and should deal with the situation before he lost ahold of his temper.

“As flattering as it is you thinking I’d have the nerve, skill and imagination to steal a knife from you-” She started, a halfhearted laugh breathed within her words, nearly amounting to a giggle. “I didn't take anything, you must have counted them wrong.” 

“Don't fuck with me!” His attitude-twist had her jump, expression falling then rising as her eyes grew wide, lips shut, suddenly feeling frozen, as though any movement could only be answered by the great ash-blonde’s counterattack. “Just hand it over and I won't have to hurt you too bad.”

She took a step back, hands rising as an instinctive makeshift shield, or to balance herself with the rush of blood suddenly pumping in her system. “Katsuki, I’m telling the truth.” She swallowed, trying to level the growing feral energy she felt surge and ooze from the fueling fire in front of her. “I didn't take it.”

“Bullshit, there’s a knife missing and I didn't take it, no one else sure as fuck did, so that leaves you.” His eyes scrutinized, narrowing in her direction. “You and your silver tongue who somehow managed to trick me into thinking letting you anywhere near the fucking kitchen was a good idea, I should have just left you tied to the bed.” His voice dripped with venom, contained potent danger, ready to kill, ready to sink his teeth in. “Now, I’m gonna count to three, if you know what’s good for you, you’re gonna give me the fucking knife. One...”

“But, I didn't...” She tried, but he wouldn't have her excuses.

“Two...” She stood there, unsure if whether she should run, though not able to answer quick enough. “Three.”

“Katsuki, I swear I didn't take anything.” Tears slipped down her face now as she watched his muscles flex with the white-hot wrath surging through his veins. Her knees grew weak and she knew she wouldn't be able to run anywhere, nor was there any place to run to if she could. 

“Fucking liar...” He turned away, heading back into the kitchen. “Tears won't save you from this one.” 

She heard the crash of his hands fiddling in the cutlery drawer, thinking he might have given the superiority of his math skills a second thought, but saw him return too quickly for that to be the case, eyes too blurry to see what he was holding in his hand, yet having an educated guess what it might be. 

“Since you like playing with knives so fucking much, why don't we play a game...” He yanked her wrists forward, sent her staggering into him, crushing the dainty joint in his palm, where if it wasn't for the ear-piercing wail that cut-loose into the air, they could have heard the small cracks indicating a fracture, though Bakugo didn't need to hear it where he felt it pop with satisfactory ease inside his fist, only to push her down on the stone floors, hand flattening out her arm. “Each time you refuse to tell me where you hid your idiotic little escape-plan, your senseless downright insulting form of neutralizing me...” His face a mere inch away from hers as he snarled, spit flying, knife placed at her neck. “I’m gonna carve a reminder of how fucking useless you are into your skin so you never get any of these dumb fucking ideas ever again.”

Her high-pitched screams rung like cacophony through his house, bouncing off the marble walls, filling every room with noise so deafening he was beginning to tire, head hurting at the earth-shattering wails. 

“Where is it, Quirkless?” He growled for the dozenth time, knife dripping with her blood as he just finished etching the last ‘s’ into the flesh of her arm, the fully spelled cruel nickname oozing with a stark vermillion just as rich as his bloodshot eyes staring down at her.

“I- I don't know.” She sniffed, chest heaving as she laid limply, pinned beneath him, cheeks stained and streaked with tears, bloated, nose red and eyes unfocused, looking about ready to pass out. “Please...”

He huffed through his nose, twitching with unstifled rage, growing more and more frayed. “Fine, suit yourself, next will be my fucking name.” He seethed, drawing another defeated sob from out of her hiccuping ribcage. “Wonder where I should write it... the other arm, your chest, your ass?” His stained bloodied fingers grabbed her chin, tried forcing eye contact only to find blank blown pupils falling to nothing, glossed over and delirious, feverish with dew-drops prickled on her forehead and breasts. “Shit... you’re even weaker than I thought...”

He got up, left her to lay there with labored breaths, making a quick journey to find some bandages, thinking he’d be merciful enough to secure her wounds before starting a new one. Feet slapping against stone, stomping through the halls to the bathroom, pulling open the cupboards only to come to an abrupt holt. 

Ice through his veins at the sight of the knife in the drawer. 

The knife he’d put there to cut bandage cloths each time he would brand her with burns whence his temper got out of bounds.

“Fuck...” He breathed, eyes stinging, body so unbelievable stiff as his ears burned upon hearing the soft snivels coming from the living room.

He walked out, bandage-roll in hand, knees feeling wobbly, too weak to support his weight, and the newly settled burden on his shoulders. He rounded the corner, the bloody word carved into her once soft skin the first thing his eyes fell upon, heart clenching furiously in his chest, something clawing at his throat from the inside. 

“I didn't- I- please- I didn't- I-” She simply lied there, all limp, on the cold stone tiles, blood staining her dress, apron ripped off and thrown next to her, sobbing with such little power they were reduced to mere sniffles, her weak limbs not even trying to make her stand up, too exhausted to even support her breathing as her chest rose with labor on each meager intake and seemed to crumble on every slipping exhale.

“Fuck- I know- I- I fucked up.” He kneeled down next to her, mind reeling, spinning, trying to wrap around the volume of what he’d just done, trying to find any means of salvaging what perfection they’d started the day off with when he’d made her breakfast and she’d hugged him, kissing him all softly and giggling as he lifted her up to sit on the counter. Finding there was no other option but to pick up the broken pieces scattered around him, and hope, hope with all his heart that he could fix things.

“No, please Katsuki, I didn't take anything, please-” She cried once seeing he’d come back, body trying to curl away when his hands descended to touch her, his large hands unsure of what to do, what he could, what he should, what he had to. Ashamed and guilt-stricken, rusty daggers stabbing at his insides, twisting in his gut as he picked her heavy arm up from the ground, laying it on his lap to wrap the white strip of bandage around it.

He bit his lip and tasted the metal on his tongue, tears starting to fall as he withheld screaming, his heart being ripped from his chest, quite like how he wanted to rip his hair out, pull his tongue out, claw his eyes out, tear the skin and flesh of his bones. “I’m sorry.” 

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

He’d been going through the regular routine, coming to the bitter conclusion that not everything was up to code. Walking out into the kitchen where his darling had been standing for about an hour cooking dinner, humming a lullaby as she suspiciously went on stirring the pot without a hint of scorn or resistance. 

Her compliant nature all made sense now.

“So, chicken soup?” He quipped, though she didn't pick up on the bitterness.

She just threw her head back to look at him over her shoulder, soft smile on her face. “Yeah, I know it’s your favorite!” It was so heartfelt he almost believed it.

“Clever.” Her brows furrowed upon the strange darkness in his tone, but shrugged it off, excused it on him being tired after a long day.

She poured the soup into two bowls, picked them up to set them on the table where she’d laid out a nice table-cloth and a small vase of flowers, all swift and graceful. “You say it all the time, I’d have to be deaf to miss it.” He waddled over to take his seat, eyes fixed on her and her antiques all the way, trying to spot an inch of regret in her composure, but finding she sprung around him and fiddled and fussed like the perfect housewife he’d groomed her to be, lying to his face with the bright smile on her lips. “Well, go on. It’s my first time with this recipe.”

“Special recipe, is it?” He asked, sitting down and picking up his spoon, twirling it in his hand, eyes still set on her, an eyebrow slightly cocked.

She looked to him then, head tilting to the side, growing more and more confused by his strange attitude. “No... quite simple actually.” She decided to brush it off, thinking he might perk up after he got some food. “Well?” She nodded eagerly towards his bowl.

“You first.” He smiled, though his eyes still looking strangely... dead.

“Oh, thank you.” She smiled, picking up her spoon, scooping to put in her mouth, then swallowing.

“So it’s only in my bowl then.” He sighed.

“What-” 

“Im not eating this.” He dropped his spoon, letting it clatter with soft yet abrasive thumps on the clothed table.

“Did I do something wrong?” The concerned look on her face nearly had him fooled.

“Save it...” He snapped, getting up with an exasperated sigh, carding his hands through his hair as he paced. “You really thought I wouldn't notice you trying to drug me?” She had gotten up to try and comfort him, yet stopped at the accusation.

“What’re you...”

He gave a curt exhale, a rather short frenzied excuse for a laugh. “It’s a good plan, your safest bet really.” She was simply left dumbfounded as she watched him pace, his wings on edge, hunched and ruffled. “I’m too fast for you to try and run, I would sniff you out if you tried hiding, fighting me would be ridiculous... knocking me out with a few pills was the only way.” She opened her mouth to protest, but couldn't really decipher just what it was he was accusing her off. “So fucking clever, I could almost applaud the effort!” His voice boomed, loud and shrill, taking up the space of the open-spaced apartment. “Too bad you fucked up.” She was getting scared now, heart climbing up her throat as she watched him flail his arms, throwing a tantrum with how upset he was about something she didn't even know what was. “Shit... and I thought I was being crazy. You had me feeling bad for not trusting you and here you are trying to pull shit like this.”

She went against her better judgement and walked toward the bristled feral man, her hands held up to touch him even though it seemed she mind burn at contact. “What are you talking about? Keigo-” “Shut up.” He spat, arm flying and landing a sharp smack across her face, impact and angle sending her to the floor, though not allowing her to recover as the same abusive hand came to grab a fistful of her hair, scalp screaming as he began dragging her across the floors, forcing her to crawl after him where he began stomping to some unknown place, tasting the metal of a popped lip bleeding into her mouth. “Unless you’re gonna apologize or beg, I don't want to hear it.”

“But-” She sobbed, trying weakly to pry his fist from her hair, only to feel him tightening and pulling some more, his pace making her soft knees scathe on the marble floors, burns running down her shins.

“It’s time you understood your place as my mate. Your only purpose.” He dismissed.

She’d gotten rather used to being thrown down on the bed, but not with Keigo’s fierce feathers cutting off her dress with little regard to a avoid nicking her skin, nor with his hand squeezing the life out of her, windpipe crushing beneath his brutal grip. 

“This is the only thing you’re any good for, only thing you’re made for, only thing you are. Just my little breeding-bitch, nothing else.” He spat as he ripped her panties down, dug his nails into her thighs while kicking her legs apart as she heaved and spluttered for more air, coughing in a fit once he removed his hand to better spread her open, her dress in tethers around her bruised body, skin once soft now sliced in a thousand small bleeding cuts, her hand weakly coming to push at his pelvis, as she was rendered unable to speak, only hiccup and cough and cry. And Keigo didn't waste any time, spitting on his spitefully erect cock, the only moisture he’d deemed necessary as he pushed inside her dry unprepared tight entrance, feeling her tense up beneath him, felt her panicked sobbing in the way she beat at his chest as he laid down on top of her, all his weight squeezing the breath from out her lungs as he let go of spreading her thighs open in favor of catching her bothersome fists, pinning them into the bed with a crushing grip as he started rolling sharply and harshly and rapidly into her. Growls erupting from someplace deep within his throat, no shame, just white-hot blinding unforgivable rage.

He climbed off once he’d emptied himself inside her, grabbing her arms, he lifted her only to throw her limp body down on the ground. “Mutts sleep on the floor.” He spat, blood still oozing from spliced skin, open wounds around her wrists where he'd clawed, neck almost ripped open beneath the impact of his teeth marking her, throat sore from screaming, yet still continuing to haul up painful bleeding sobs. 

And though he’d made it such a point that breeding was her only usage, made her say it, made her beg for it, made her thank him, he still went to find a pill, yet with the rush of what he’d just done coming to a crash he was left feeling dizzy in the spiraling downfall of his frenzy, adrenaline fizzing out and nerves starting to prickle, messaging his temples to soothe the oncoming headache, finding quite ironically he could use a pill or two to soothe his nerves, the same kind she’d tried drugging him with earlier. 

She curled up on the floor, hugging her body for comfort, bruises and cuts stinging hot against the cool carpet. 

He padded into the bathroom, unbothered by her cries, thinking they were justified, deserved. Hands casually reaching towards the pill-bottle in the medicine cabinet, popping the cap and throwing two circular, not oval, pills down his throat, face contorting at the foreign feel of them on his tongue, realizing, slowly and mortifyingly, that the taste was sweet instead of bitter, as they were supposed to be. 

Grabbing the bottle and turning it in his hand to read the label, eyes scanning and widening, blinking once, blinking twice, whispering a small breathless. “No...”

He ran back into the bedroom, cursing all the way, cursing himself all the way.

He’d mislabeled the bottles. One bottle containing what pills he’d used to take to calm himself during his ruts before finding a better outlet in his darling, the other bottle full of OxyContin. The rut-pills naturally having way less pills inside, which was why he counted that at least fifteen pills where missing this morning.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck...” He cursed, had no mind for anything else as he rounded the corner and stood in the threshold, scared to enter, scared to breathe as he listened to his darling pained whimpers and shattered breaths. His darling still lying exactly where he’d left her, limp where were it not for the wrecked way her ribcage would rise and fall, he’d think she was dead.

Instinctively he sent his feathers out to help her up quicker than his legs could carry him over, though she recoiled at the fluttering of them, whimpering as she backed herself up into the corner of the room, sitting with her knees tucked tightly to her chest, her arms swung around them to shield herself, head hung as she winced and chocked on her cries. 

It felt like dying, the a jagged rock lodged in his chest, it felt like death, like sickness, spreading throughout him, cold and vicious, with no mercy as he began crying too.

“M’ sorry, I’m s- so sorry, sorry, I’m sorry, ple- please-” He begged, but her huddled frame was shaking in terrorized shock as she began rocking back and forth, toes curling into the carpeted floors. “Please- please, Angel.” He reached out a second time, this time not letting her flinching stop him, taking her hands in his, both equally shaking. He knelt, head hung and bowing to rest against her feet. “Forgive me...” He started kissing, first the top of her foot, then her calf, hand held loosely inside his, lips mushed to kiss the top, then her knee, pulling her into his lap, hugging her close, cradling her head to his neck, other hand splayed on her back, arm securing her tightly against his chest. “I’m sorry...”

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

Izuku came home earlier than usual, though instead of being suspicious, she felt overjoyed, welcoming him home by the door, helping him tread his jacket off his broad shoulders, hanging it up for him on the hanger to be placed inside the closet neatly, standing up on her tippy-toes as he leant down to plant a juicy kiss to his cheek, all just in the order he’d taught her. Perfection. Getting ready to ask him how his day was, before he beat her to the punch.

“Sweetie?” He asked, slight lilt in his tone.

She just smiled in return. “Yes, Daddy?” Feet placed beside each other and standing straight and perfect like a little doll.

“What did you do today?” It’s quite normal for Izuku to ask, liking to watch his little girl bounce with passion, all shy and giddy and awkward as she drones on about the lack of substance in her day with that unrestrained childlike candidness he’s forged her into.

“Uhm...” She blinked, face in wonderment. “Well... I woke up, had a bath, dressed up.... ooh, made the bed, then I played in the garden for a bit, or... for a very long while actually, I picked some flowers and made a flower-crown, and had another bath because of all the mud-”

“Come here, Bunny.” He cut off her rambling, despite it being cute, curling his finger at her to come over as he sat down on the couch. He patted the couch-cushion beside him, not his lap, which could only mean he wanted one thing. She did what she knew from experience he wanted, propping her knees up to kneel beside him. “Lie down, you know what to do.” Ass arched up over his lap, short frilly skirt hiking up her thighs, revealing her pretty cotton panties, with her face mushed in the other couch-cushion on the opposite side of him. “You want to try that again?” He stroked the ample skin of her butt, cupping one cheek in his palm and messaging calloused fingers over the soft skin, fingering the hem and snapping it back to smack her skin lightly.

“Try what again, Daddy?” She asked, unquestioning of his request, folding her feet while having them raised in the air, pearl-white socks pulled neatly over her knees beginning to roll into the crease of her bent legs.

“What did you do today?” He stroked down the back of her bare thigh, other hand leveling on the small of her back, fingering a lock of hair that laid splayed there.

“But I just told you-” Her voice still sweet and childish and girly, just the way he liked, bordering on whiny as she tipped her head back to give him a perplexed look.

“Hmm, give me your hands.” She folded her arms behind her back, let him grab ahold of both her wrists in one of his massive palms, strong finger curling around them, as he continued stroking the goose-bumped flesh of her behind with the other, lifting her skirt higher, now laying it to rest in the slope of her back, leaving her pink cotton panties on full display, hugging her round bum, all exposed atop his lap. “Tell me again. One more time for me, Bunny.”  

“I don't understand, Daddy?” She asked, feeling her breasts begin to ache with how they were squished against the cushions of the sofa, the underwire to her bra cutting into her flesh in the forced position.

“No? You don't understand?” Deku patronized. “Maybe this will help.” His hand left the soft skin it hand been fondling, his other hand tightening around her wrists, bracing for the recoil that was sure to rush through her whence his raised hand struck down with force upon the unsuspecting plush flesh.

She wailed, arms trying to pull free at once, just like he had anticipated. Her booty wiggling to shake the pain away, feet thumping down into the cushions.

“Why do you think Daddy’s punishing you?” He asked calmly, hand stroking the abused flesh of her bottom as she sniffled into the plush surface her head was resting on, thighs shivering.

“I- I don't kno- know.” She hiccuped, sobs ricochetting through her chest as her one ass-cheek stung with blood like fire.

“No? You don't know?” His hand lifted, coming down hard once again. “How about now?” Voice calm, iced and leveled, strict but soft.

“No, please-” She begged through her sobbing fit, hands uselessly struggling behind her back, cramping in his unmovable death-grip.

“Does Bunny want another slap?” He asked, condescension drowning his tone, dripping like venom as he once again messaged the welted flesh of her ass.

“No-” Her voice was mumbled and slurred through tears, wet like a moan, yet hurt like a bawling toddler who scraped their knees on the pavement.

“No? But you seem to like it so much.” He pulled at the bruised flesh, pinching it between his fingers, making her arch to try and reel away from his touch, a whimpering whine leaving her.

“I didn't do anything, Daddy please!” Squealing like a little piglet, as he worked the ample fat of her butt in his hand, kneading it like one would do dough.

“Think again, I’m sure it’s simply slipping your dumb little brain.” He mocked, eyes keen and lightning-like as they look down at her face mushed against the couch, her lips blubbering like a fish, nose red and runny with the tears coating her cheeks, drool dribbling down her chin from the heavy wrecking sobs.

“No daddy, I-” Another branding landing of his large hand against her unprotected abused and bruised skin.

“Bad bunny, you mustn't tell lies.” He chastised, letting go of her wrists in favor of entangling the brutish hand in her hair, holding her skull in his palm as he dragged her up, other clawed knuckled paw manhandling her into kneeling over his lap, her trembling little body doing nothing but abide by his direction, sniveling and sniffling, hiccuping on beaten shuddering breaths as she blinked to make the brimming tears fall out of her sore eyes, lids puffy and eyelashes glossed, looking so adorably vulnerable when wincing at his fingers digging into the delicate softness of her hips, keeping her seated, ass blossoming with lilac and maroon. “My little pet tried to escape today, didn't she?” His eyes were set and stone-cold as he narrowed them slightly at her, left eye mildly twitching every second or so.

Her hands held onto his arms, more to balance herself as she cried than for his sake. “What... no-” She mumbled out between sniffs and bleating, eyes too dewy to focus, mind too clogged to be thinking of much more than her aching flesh.

“No?” His voice mimicked her frail timber. “Then how come I know you tried opening the door to the mudroom at exactly 2.37 in the afternoon today?” He quirked a brow, nostrils flaring at the building potent brew of rage within him. “Care to explain what you where thinking?” 

Chest heaving sporadically, still with her sobs she tried formulating what muddled answer she could. “I- the rain-”

“The rain!” He stated, voice sharp and booming, not buying whatever sorry excuse she was trying to sell him. “Gotta do better than that, Bunny.” He almost felt offended with how little she’d prepared for this, he would have thought she’d come up with something better than the weather.

She sniffled. “I- I didn't want to ruin my shoes in the mu- mud, and my boots are in the mudroom, bu- but the d-door was locked, so I went barefoot instead, I’m so- sorry-” She managed to blubber out, breaths hitching, toppling her words, voice cracked and uneven in her rambling.

“Boots? Barefoo-” He asked, but answered his own question by backtracking to what she’d said about spending the day in the garden. “You weren't trying to leave?” He stated, again more like the answer to his own question.

She whimpered like a pup, small pained cries. “Leave? Why... why would I leave?”

He stared at her for a moment, features soon drawing back, a shrouded mind clearing, biting his tongue. “No reason...” He answered her bleary confused features, hands softening in their grip on her hips, nails dislodging from digging into her skin. “Don't walk barefooted when you’re outside, I don't want you to get sick.” He saved himself, casting the events and the punishment onto the measly crime.

“I won't ever do it again, I promise!” She shook her head, arms swung around his shoulders, pushing her head into the nook of his neck for comfort, basking in the familiar scent of cologne, rubbing her teary face off on the color to his shirt, kissing his throat, laying its worship, body pressed flush against his, hips shimming to better slot herself down on his lap.

Her actions were well received, a little too well with how rigid and uptight and exhausted he was in the wake of his fading anger. “Good girl.” He sighed, pleased. Large hand finding her cheek, cupping it and her chin to pull her up to face him. “It’s been a long day, give me a kiss.” She didn't hesitate, soft bloated lips pressed primly into his, welcoming how he liked to suck on her bottom lip, welcoming how his teeth liked to chew on it, knowing how to make herself useful, petite hands finding his chest, working at the perfect pace in unbuttoning his shirt, hips rocking like they’d been taught to awaken what was kept inside his pants.

TIP-JAR

FOLLOW-UP ASK

Sooooooooo.... I've been meaning to do that for a long while but I'm too lazy to do comics properly- based on this part of @zu-is-here 's Dark Cream comic:

Zu

Zu

Play dirty First | Previous | Next ☆ [Masterpost]

That sort of happened and as the dramatic hopeless NightKiller shipper I'm... (Yeah, Zu, If u reading that, I'm the anon that wanted to draw Killer patching up NM before the events of this part.... Except I got carried away and that ..... Happened. ,_,") I made It about them. Also idk If that counts as spoilers sooooo.... READ THE ACTUAL DARK CREAM COMIC, IT'S REALLY GOOD! ^^

Anyways here's the comic before I lose courage to post It!

.....

One round left to play;

I hAvE a wEaK sPoT fOr dRaMa iM sOrRy-

Nightmare by @jokublog

Killer by @rahafwabas

Dark Cream comic by @zu-is-here