ilovemakima

Latest Posts by ilovemakima

To Live at Her Alter

18+ CONTENT AHEAD MINORS DNI

✦pairing: Midnight x Villain!Reader

✦word count: 2.5k

✦warnings: BDSM, reader has a pussy, service sub!reader, orgasm control, body writing, oral sex, pussywarming? kinda, degradation, humiliation, suffocating/choking (non-sexual), self-harm, attempted suicide, implied enemies to lovers

✦a/n: when the ovulation hits and and

“To live by my Mistress is to serve her with every breath.” Utterance of the mantra webs tingles across your lips, the warmth clinging to your cheeks, then your sternum and chest as it snaps beneath your skin.

“To cherish her presence with my undeserving body”, you add while displayed before the woman you worship. Your torso is a stiff perpendicular plane to your folded knees. Your walls flex subtlety around the grooves of the toy you've been ordered to warm with your cunt, making squelchy whispers in a wet plea for respite. “And to uphold her values as a vessel of her will.”

A well-manicured hand is held to your lips and as your mouth relishes the brief taste of her skin you feel fortunate to be graced with the opportunity to give it—her your praises.

What led to your current circumstances was nothing short of several strings of miraculous events. Your quirk is a much deadlier version of hers, and with less shortcomings, so why is it you submit despite the upper hand you hold?

The answer is simple. In the tides of battle, she prevailed over you like an ice cube somehow withstanding the flames of a gas fire. Even then, her victory was no stroke of luck, you’re sure of it.

She’s your superior in every way, and as her palm closed around your throat amidst her triumph, you could only gape while wrestling away your thoughts of admiration. You'll always be glad she was able to make use of someone like you.

“Delicious”, Nemuri purrs. You think she says it with a smile as your gaze remains planted beneath her, where it should always remain. “And what of my other orders, pet.” The tip of her maroon high heel burrows between your legs to slightly part them. “Show me how well you follow instructions.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

Your thighs peel like damp tape, a turbulent shiver striking your veins as the cool air mingles with the dampness clinging to your flesh. Throbbing and inflamed, your poor clit nearly seeks her touch for stimulation but your conscious mind fights against it.

“My, I do love it when you make a mess.” One of her delicate giggles makes its way into the air. “Your body's begging for release but I'm sure you can hold out for a little longer. Isn't that right?”

“As long as you wish, Mistress.”

“Good because I heard some news about you today that really soured my desire for generosity”, she says with a curtness. You're tempted to risk her scolding just to catch a brief glimpse of the expression that accompanies her words. “You've earned yourself another badge. Show me your neck.”

You slip your head upward baring your skin yet closing your eyes so as not to insult her. A faint shuffling sound comes from above you before a cool pointed tip glides along your skin, forming arches and lines that resemble letters. Your breathing fails to flow properly throughout the course of her penmanship which seems to stretch on agonizingly.

“Open”, she demands while handing you her compact mirror and your throat stings at what's written;

IDIOT, carved below your chin in bold, ragged letters with a black tattoo marker. The ink won't wash away for days but it's part of what you usually enjoy about it especially when Nemuri would graffiti your body in syrup-sweet nicknames with curly, elegant letters and silly little hearts. On those days you wish it were ingrained in your cells, but today you want to scrape at your neck until it's raw.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry for being an idiot, Miss”, your voice is watery as gulp back tears.

“You’re more than an idiot. You're lucky all the words I have for you can't fit on your neck.”

She finally sways away from the door she’s entered, discarding her hero attire each step of the way to her chambers. You clumsily crawl after her as if a hastily built table granted the ability to move, swiping at each article of clothing to toss them in their proper bin.

It takes everything in you not to shriek your next words. “What is it that you heard—”

She jerks toward you, stopping in her tracks then sighing. “I’ll get to that eventually”, she answers, wrapping ribbons of her violet strands into a sloppy bun then stepping into her garage-sized bathroom. “But first…” She gestures expectantly toward a tray of amenities on a concrete, raised slab beside her shower—a tray you organize for her daily.

“Thank you, Miss”, you reply although your gratefulness to attend to her body is tainted by the sinking horror of what awaits you once the task is complete. You begin to gnaw your bottom lip to a bleeding meaty sliver as your stomach shuffles its contents.

As she hovers idly, skin illuminating under the harsh glow of the fancy lamplights, you run the water until it reaches her desired temperature then lather a few pumps of body wash on a rag. The sweet cherry taffy aroma wafting through the damp air is so thick you salivate. Her body is already soaked and glistening by the time you’re finished savoring the candy scented soap.

“May I?”, you ask, bringing the well-coated cloth near her flesh in anticipation.

“You may.”

You begin your ministrations at her feet, slowly working your way up her legs and thoroughly massaging the slippery fluid into her pores and making sure not to miss spots.

Such a small element of routine allows your worries about your future punishment to temporarily drift away from the forefront of your mind. It's best to focus on the task at hand or else you'll only create a deeper pit for yourself, you think. Dread continues to linger in the hidden crevices of your heart yet your thoughts of it flux with the strokes of the cloth, becoming distant as you move downward and returning to your conscience as you creep near her lower lips. The sight of her alluring slit has always been grounding for you.

It's only when Nemuri huffs that you realize you’ve been sweeping along the same leg for a while.

“Someones working extra hard to make up for things”, her voice laces with the steam, a hint of mischief etching its way into her tone. “I’m sure that area’s clean enough already.”

“It's not like that, Mistress. I’m merely doing what I’m meant to.”

When you reach her sex, she dismisses you to take over the scrubbing herself as reaching the rest of her would require you to relinquish your kneeling position. Well-trained property is never to be above or beside their betters unless given explicit permission so you crawl to fetch her towel and wait outside the foggy glass doors until she finishes up.

Once she’s done drying, she paces to her closet then embellishes her body in a black, lacy babydoll dress, the ruffles parting alongside her legs as she perches on the edge of her bed in a welcoming position.

“Come, your mouth will do nicely.” She shuffles her hips to beckon you.

“Yes, Miss. Thank you, Mistress”, you eagerly whimper before slipping between her like a puzzle piece and humming more thanks into her warmth as if giving prayer to your deity before your meal.

You leave a path of suckling kisses along the expanse of her sex, making slow and appreciative work of your lips as the feel of her slick, warm folds clouds you with crazed desire. You don’t mean to be a tease but it’s hard not to take your time with the delectable display presented to you, your unworthiness makes it all the more forbidden fruit.

When her rich, addicting flavor hits your tongue, your palette seizes with delight, taking in the earthy tones that envelope your senses with the zeal of a starved beast. Dark, glossy nails prick your scalp, scraping for balance while your nose meshes with the trail of curls poking around her clenching cavern.

A sharp pain goes through the top of your head and you hiss. “No licking, dear”, she eases her nails out of your flesh. “I only want your mouth there, nothing else.”

Her request is like asking a cheetah not to pick at fresh meat. Despite your wishes to indulge the gorging your soul craves, your mouth stills the instant she orders it to.

She acts as if you aren't gathered by her knees as she scratches and scribbles in the journal on her nightstand—the contents of which you've always longed to peer into.

You cling your lips to her as if she's what is needed to pump your lungs to life. Her thighs tenderly embrace your cheeks, squeezing softly in tandem with the strokes of her pen and the brush of your breaths across her cunt. Your own hole feels neglected compared to the lavishing you thrust upon her opening.

Muffled gasps crawl up your throat as you shift to ease the tickling in your core, eyelids shuttering with intense need yet frustration.

“Look at you, so ready and willing”, Nemuri coos, taking in the view of your drooling lips and glazed-over eyes. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

You nod amidst the mindless, obedient haze that washes over you whenever you serve her, but she pinches your ear to get you to use your words. “Yes, Mistress.”

“That's too bad”, she mocks. “I'm afraid this is all you’ll get for now.” She shoves you away and you look as if you were a kicked puppy.

She merely chuckles at that, making you jolt at the vibrations of the boisterous noise before her energy resets to normal. “Enough of that, about the news I mentioned earlier…” She folds one of her knees beside her and clenches her fingers tightly around it. “The hero you and your cronies captured wasn’t at the location you gave me. Your men must’ve gotten word of your survival and made a run for it, what a hassle.”

“I’m deeply sorry for that, Mistress.” You swiftly place your head against the floor in a deep bow. “Please punish me for their transgressions. They’re foolish, but I’m even more so for ever being with them.”

The silence that instills is cold, much like the coolness of the tile pressing against your forehead.

“Your enthusiasm is enough, I’ve no need to punish you.” She pushes lightly at your shoulder with the tip of her nylon-clad foot, bringing you to raise.

“What does it mean to belong to me?” You feel a weight on your shoulder in more ways than one as her heel rests beside your neck.

“To live by my Mistress is to—” Her toes mash with your lips.

“No memorized platitudes, I want it straight…” Her foot slides to your chest. “from the heart.” She presses there harder with each word for emphasis.

“I’ll do anything for you—you know that, miss.”

“Oh, I believe it. We’re talking about me after all.” Her stockings rub along your slit and you moan, long and loud. “You'll take whatever I give you, won’t you? You're always so whiny and desperate, scrambling for scraps of my affection. I’d say it’s pathetic, but it’s even more sad it took you so long to realize this is your rightful place when you could've saved yourself the effort.” She nearly stomps on your cunt, yet hot shame fills you as you unconsciously thrust to meet her rough touch. “All villains fall to their knees for the heroes eventually.

Like a shriveled sponge, you absorb her merciless words as truth, for they are nothing less than the truth.

“You saved me”, you say sheepishly. “I’m grateful for you.”

“That I did, it’s good of you to notice.”

Your face warms with delight.

“Here’s the deal”, she continues. “In exchange for the hero’s safe return, your ex-allies want proof of your death. They're clearly out for vengeance now that their leader’s dipped to join the enemy and left them with the clean up. So what will you do?”

It's a test. She's unsure whether you'd betray her at the drop of hat. How could she not, considering the state you abandoned your old allies in?

The only way out of this is for you to die.

Your resolve hardens. You activate your quirk and a translucent bubble surrounds your head, allowing no air to enter nor exit. It’s a volatile ability. By focusing hard enough, you can create a bubble that fills with a clear gas that can stop a person from breathing. The bubble’s surface is sticky and difficult to penetrate or tear, while the gas inside it destabilizes the instant it leaves the bubble, therefore losing its effects.

You’ve casted domes as large as two story buildings, but the one you summon now exists only for you—only for your mouth, your nose and your lungs. It fits snugly around your skull, and despite the small size, your concentration wavers while maintaining it as lethargy seeps into your brain and your chest constricts with an ache for oxygen. You tumble to your back, clawing frantically at the base of the bubble with your right hand as if you weren't the cause of your own suffering.

How many seconds have passed? 10? 15?

No matter, the gas’ effects will take at least two times longer to take hold of you given your own innate immunity to it.

Your vision clouds with nonexistent shapes while your muscles feel as though they're brimming with ice. Nemuri’s figure appears over you as blotchy and shadow-like, but even in your near-death hallucinations she still exudes a presence much like a dark goddess, looming with a natural yet mesmerizing grandiosity.

A weight you recognize to be Nemuri, settles on your midriff, clasping around the sides of your waist and dampening your stomach with her bare arousal. A different touch, featherlight and fleeting, swipes down your thighs to massage the throbbing crevice between them.

It goes across your clit in abstract swirls and circles, dwindling your already weak concentration to almost nothing. Coupled with the sensitivity of your stuffed walls, it only takes a few sweeps over your nub before your arching into the feeling, limbs curling into your middle like a crumpled leaf and shivering violently.

Sharp, excruciating bliss consumes you, afflicting your nerves with raw and unfiltered sensations, but is swiftly torn away when you notice the bubble has burst.

You gasp, vacuuming every bit of surrounding air into your unoccupied lungs until you're dizzy—dizzy with nausea or satisfaction you're uncertain.

“I’m sssorryyy”, you sob. “I'll try again—”, a cough hacks its way up your throat.

Her fingers shove their way into your mouth and you taste your own fluids. “And risk losing my favorite pervert? That won’t do, I still have my uses for you.”

Teary-eyed and trembling, you meet Nemuri’s gaze despite your better judgment and remember why it was considered a privilege to look upon her.

“Thank you”, you whimper, softening at the impish curve of her full lips. “Thank you for saving me once more.”

She hums with a soft smile. “Now, for cumming without my permission…”

How was your Valentine’s Day??🙈

It was fine, but you made it infinitely better 😪

TOBEGIGGLEDAT GOING CRAZY WITH IT 🙏

18+ CONTENT AHEAD MDNI

✦pairing: Emi Fukukado (Ms. Joke) x afab!reader

✦word count: 2.3k

✦warnings: angst, mutual pining, kissing, massages, mutual fingering, begging

Original Post ✦ Midnight Ending

Why is it only now that your thoughts of Emi have become more reoccurring and invading?

Ever since that night, most of your time is spent looking over past photos you have with her, but your heart now flutters erratically as if you weren’t the one to take them. You stalk her socials through the lense of a first-time spectator, looking over her pictures in awe at the face you're still pleased to see almost daily.

What if her jests from yesterday were nothing more than just that, jests?

It’d be her cruelest joke yet, to plant fresh seeds of romance into your chest that continue to blossom and root deeper from the nutrients of her enchanting smiles and the water of her riveting words.

The night before Valentine’s Day seems to be eternal as you occupy your imagination by putting a face to the letters you’ve accumulated, you allow yourself to be enamored by vivid but immaterial depictions of Emi drafting the very messages you long to receive.

Maybe you’ll write her a letter yourself to send to her tomorrow morning.

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

My one and only Emi,

It is through this letter that I make a confession, a conclusion that took me many years to reach, but am delighted to make nonetheless.

I love you, and in many ways more than a friend should. I love so dearly I even ache without you in my dreams.

Do you feel the same as I?

Yearning for you every moment,

Your Dearest Companion

The email evaporates into cyberspace with a click of your fingers, but your doubts still persist long past the moment it’s sent.

Emi hasn’t messaged a word since yesterday. Your limbs are numb and prickling with each anxiety-ridden exhale that escapes you yet you must continue teaching as if that isn't so.

To maintain an impeccable composure for the rest of the school day despite this will be a testament to your resolve, and potentially a glimpse into the future of your friendship with Emi.

After all, if your feelings aren’t reciprocated, you’ll have to hone this mask to utmost perfection so that things will remain the same.

Class ends with an eerie hum of the school’s bell, and when your room has emptied, all your emotions are left unrestrained.

A day’s worth of nausea and bile finally bubbles up to the surface to manifest itself on your tongue in thick strings of drool, your throat gulps heavily to sink the chunky liquid back into your stomach until you gather yourself enough to leave your classroom.

Don’t let it slip.

You try to piece together your wavering façade on the train ride home, morphing and pulling your skin with your fingertips until your fallen brows settle back into place and your lips are no longer twitching and downturned.

Don’t let it slip.

Your awkward fumbling past your apartment lobby increases in pace, you avoid direct stares with the friendly elderly couple that accompanies in the elevator, even as they chatter to you gleefully and incessantly.

Don’t let it slip.

Your keys are jammed into your door with a jerk of your arms against it.

The familiar scent and scenery of your home trigger the stinging drops in your eyes to stream down your cheeks in hot streaks. Your knees nearly buckle beneath you before you find purchase on the nearest chair in your living room to let the sobs take hold of you completely.

You’ve ruined everything.

Your body jolts with each cough and splutter you muffle into your crimson, overworked palms, now slick with viscous snot and drool—you dejectedly eye the expensive assortment of cookies you bought yesterday to satisfy Emi’s sweet tooth.

A distant knock at your door briefly pulls you out of your melancholic haze, yet your whimpering form remains unmoving as you don’t want anyone to see you in such a decrepit state.

You let the persistent banging fade into the background until your phone buzzes to life for the first time it has all day.

Emi: Aren’t you going to open the door for your secret admirer?

You hastily dash for the kitchen sink to run cold water over your caked features and ineptly pat them dry, once finished, you twist at the door knob to meet Emi standing proudly with an elated look, a leather handbag hooked on her shoulder.

“Emi, I—”, you sputter before you're swiftly interrupted.

“Have you been crying? Your eyes are all puffy.” Emi's smile diminishes to a crooked frown, her slightly calloused palms extend to cup your cheeks so that her thumb can stroke it gently.

“I haven't heard from you all day”, your rigid neck thaws into her touch as relief settles through your muscles. “I thought I might've upset you with the email I sent.”

“No-No, never. I'm sorry, I just wanted to surprise you”, her soft voice floats through the air like cotton; it nests itself in your ear canal, tickling your senses and burrowing its dizzying wisps in the folds of your brain. “I love you, and I meant every word in those letters I wrote—”

Your damp lips crash against her plump ones to capture the rest of her confession between your teeth, imprinting her words into your mouth then swallowing them whole. Her hands are tender as they still envelope the sides of your head and attempt to bridge a nonexistent gap—pressing you closer and closer until your atoms seemingly align.

When did Emi first know she was in love with you?

You wish to ask her so that you could revisit your past conversations while over analyzing each word until it seems as though you were a fool for never noticing.

But you also wish to treasure her sentences more intimately—to dedicate a region of your brain to the ridiculous rambles she'd spew just to get a laugh out of you, and another folder of your memory to the moments your eyes couldn't part away from hers.

Lost in the throes of her passion, it takes a while for your mind to catch up to the scenery change as you're draped across your mattress, your choked pants filling the air from the bruising attacks her mouth makes against your collar.

The dull flickers of pain from her teeth turn sharp, her pointed canines searing your flesh and leaving vermilion indents but not pressing harsh enough to pierce the skin. Your pelvis bucks into her hips from the sudden pleasant zaps across your sternum, but when her tongue lathes over the tender spots afterward your writhe in her hold.

Each time her tongue pulls away between slurps she seems reluctant, as if breathing were trivial compared to relishing the divine taste of your skin. You readily comply with her cravings, presenting your delicate neck to ravenous jaws while providing her all the more surface to revere.

Her suckles and nibbles along your skin drift downward as she strips you bare, followed by her doing the same for herself with her goddess-like form presented to your overly-enthralled eyes.

“Let me take care of you”, she says quietly as she pulls away to fish around for something in the bag she brought. A small, clear bottle and a metallic red box rest firmly against her palms, she places them on the bed beside you before gently guiding you to lay on your stomach.

She mounts your lower half, shifting her weight slightly against you as she lathers her hands with the substance in the bottle, permeating the room with a rich aroma of jasmine, chamomile and other exotic scents you can’t quite place.

Her oily hands scoop along your shoulders, pressing deeply into the taut skin then swirling and flexing against it until your muscles become more supple under her touch. She repeats these motions along your back and the sides of your waist by sinking her lithe fingers into your flesh and scooping and prying at the restlessness that’s seemingly settled beneath your skin in the form of sediment—calcified worry that’s seeped into your veins to stay.

A cataclysmic burst of lust gathers at the apex of your thighs despite the innocence of the act, you’re overcome with a libidinous desire to feel more of her, to feel more of her touch in the throbbing areas that have formed across your body.

She guides you onto your back so that she could begin repeating her ministrations to your chest, her lower thigh resting close to your core but not touching it. For a moment, she peels away to fiddle with the red box from earlier, but when she returns she softly presses something against your lips.

Her eyes are lidded, lips parted in a gentle awe as she watches you take the piece into your mouth, swirling the rich chocolate flavor around your tongue until the remaining creaminess glides down your throat smoothly.

As her hands travel downward to caress your thighs, she parts them before eyeing the thin string of arousal that’s webbed over your lips and grins at it salaciously. She avoids touching your folds and instead fondles the meat around it, making slow rotations as you twitch and coil beneath her.

Another piece of chocolate is placed on your lips, but Emi captures your mouth before the sweet can dissolve, slipping her tongue between your teeth to gather some of the taste for herself then leaving you panting with drool covered lips while her leg steadily starts to rub against you.

The sensation of her nude thighs grinding into your sex makes dribbles of slick seep from your arousal, lubricating your desperate movements as you chase the euphoric tingles surging through your clit.

Dew drops of sweat coat your face in a thin luster while the combined heat from your bodies create a thick atmosphere around you, one which steadily grows into a fog from the friction of your continued frenzied glides. Your high never quite approaches as it swiftly tapers off at the cusp of your peak from lack of pinpoint strikes onto your pulsating nub.

Your understimulated sex aches for more of her fleeting but precise contact, as pure, undiluted desire swells in your neglected walls until suspended on the verge of erupting as a collapsing pressure takes its place. You need more.

“Emi, please”, you beg, futilely meeting her unfulfilling collisions with your sex in hopes your orgasm would return.

The pleasurable breaching of her agile fingers at your entrance dismantles your chance for any more intelligible pleas with your thighs snapping around her palm as your body unconsciously curls to the side. She follows your curvature, planking beside you so that you could see the delighted smirk that adorns her mouth while her hands are unremittingly sliding within you.

Her other hand guides your thumb between her legs, you place it against her peeking clit before smoothing deep circles on it so that it matches the pace she's set in your opening.

“Mhmm, like that”, she says it breathily and it sends another sublime rush of heat to your stirring gut. “I wanna see your pretty faces as I cum too.”

A harmonious symphony of sighs fill the air as you move in tandem with one another, but as Emi brushes over certain ridges your focus on her clit falters with your eyes batting before fluttering back from her calculated strokes in your hole. Her fervent kisses she stamps into your cheeks are the only way you're kept grounded, temporarily brought back to shore before once again swept away by tumultuous waves of arousal.

Your fingers tangle themselves at the roots of her soft, sea-green strands, tugging slightly to mesh your lips against hers, absorbing her wanton sounds and shivering as the vibrations flare into your bones. A balmy pool of spit gathers where your eagerly sloppy mouths meet then oozes from the sides to coat your chin in clear, sticky sap.

“Feel so good around my fingers, it’s like your swallowing me—fuck”, Emi unevenly pants before dropping her head onto your shoulder, her glassy eyes mimicking your dreamy, lidded gaze as that all too familiar coiling begins to unravel.

A series of scattered thoughts pop into your lust-drunk befuddled brain only swiftly fizzle away with each of her ministrations, bubbling through your synapses until releasing through the air of your moans to leave you stale and breathless.

“Wanna cum with you”, she finally voices your desire but you can only murmur her name in disjointed fragments.

Your thumb is slippery and overworked—the soppy pad of your finger dull and reddened—yet the clenching of Emi’s warm thighs spur you on with the pace of your unsteady, but enthusiastic rotations quickening until you’re both whining and humping for climax.

“L-Love you, Emi”, you choke, your walls clamping wildly around the digits inside you as your orgasm breaches and gashes your overwhelmed walls for release. Strained gasps escape from Emi’s overly-parted lips while she’s also hastily strung above the peak of climax only to be dropped at the bewitching sight of your blissed-out features—her lips encapture yours the moment it torments her limbs so that she’d give you a shaky, but searing kiss.

You stare dazedly into your lover’s eyes, insides still twitching and raw from pleasure, but mesmerized by the swirling jade pools of her irises.

“Write an article about me?” Emi proposes in jest while beaming from ear to ear.

“Maybe”, you reply just as teasingly. “You did give me great material to work with.”

A tickle of laughter emits from Emi’s glossy lips as she shuffles closer until both of your noses touch. “I love you.”

You give her a gentle peck then smile cheesily. “I love you too, and I’ll forever be grateful for all the letters you’ve sent me.”

Her eyes crinkle tightly at the corners, dripping tiny droplets as her mouth curls up slightly. “Had you not sent me your own letter, I would've gone back to pretending my feelings never existed.”

AHRHAHAGGRR I CANY OJMFG SHAHAJAJAHAH SHES SOOOOO FINEEEEE

18+ CONTENT AHEAD MDNI

✦pairing: Nemuri Kayama (Midnight) x afab!reader

✦word count: 2.4k

✦warnings: angst/guilt, kissing, oral sex, clit-leashing, vaginal sex, dildos, praise, begging, pet names (angel)

Original Post ✦ Ms. Joke Ending

Valentine’s Day is tomorrow, but there’s something important you must do before it arrives.

“Hey, sorry for the trouble of bringing you out here”, you say meekly to the woman on the bench beside you, though her gaze is steady on the view before her.

The violent winds make her dark mane mask the sides of her face completely. “It’s okay if we skip the formalities. Just…tell me what you need”, she speaks curtly but her words cut crisp-clear, even through the whooshing of the breeze.

You take a preparatory exhale before turning to face her. “Nemuri, I’m so sorry for what I did to you. I never should’ve gone against your wishes and betrayed your trust. I’ve been wanting to say this for the longest time, yet I couldn’t find the right moment.”

The clear blue sky above you sharply contrasts the cloudy atmosphere of your mind as you string your thoughts together.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me or want to speak with me outside of work again, but I want to finally take responsibility for my actions.” Your jaw clenches with the everlasting silence that follows your words, each thick gulp you take feels deafeningly loud amidst it.

Kayama finally looks in your direction. Her nose blooms an angry red while her cheeks are stained with salt. “You knew how deeply I felt about you, but you only used that against me to gather more intel”, she says quietly. “Were your articles really worth more than me?”

“No, and I’ve come to realize that I’d much rather the world live without the truth if it meant protecting you.” You reach for her hands to cup them gently in your palms then bring them closer to you. “Nemuri, I mean it.”

And while your stare never falters, Kayama’s swiftly shifts downward.

“I need time to think”, she inevitably answers before pulling away to go.

You’re once again left alone to watch her outline shrink into the distance without a convincing way of stopping her.

There’s nothing left for you to do now that you’ve confessed how you’ve truly felt all this time.

You can only wait patiently as you continue to learn to atone for your past.

Will things ever be the same again?

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

Valentine’s Day begins with a chilly, gray morning.

You stroll down the decorated halls of U.A. with flashy pink borders covering the school’s bulletin boards and dazzling red hearts ornamenting each door.

Despite the love that saturates the air, you find yourself struggling to plaster a smile on your face as you greet some of your students on the way to your classroom.

When the lights to your class flicker on, you spot a thin black envelope freckled with crimson hearts at the center of your desk.

A sliver of your lips upturn involuntarily, but you swiftly push your feelings aside, opting to read the message at the end of the school day. It’s too soon to get your hopes up you think as you tuck the stiff paper into your desk drawer to prepare yourself for another exciting lesson on media biases.

Students are more inattentive than usual today as they gossip about exchanged gifts and romance—but you don’t hold it against them as your mind also seems to drift to your after school plans as well.

Eventually, those plans come into fruition once your classroom is finally barren of the day's shriveled assignment papers. Your impatient fingers pry at the cherry wax seal on the envelope you received this morning, delicately tugging along the sides of the peeling adhesive to free the lilac page inside it.

The small letters simply read an address you’ve long imprinted within the confines of your head.

You swiftly take the first train home to freshen up before bouncing back into the streets just as quickly, Valentine’s gift in hand.

Your destination is an upscale building with around 30 floors, you stroll merrily along the tile-like pavement to the two neatly cut hedges on each side of the lighted entrance.

On your way to the elevator, shuffling footsteps and idle chatter fill your ears as the condominium’s occupants enter and exit the lobby.

A few button presses has you standing on the 21st floor, where you pad along the halls turning left and right while searching for the floor’s only room as directed.

Room 2110 lies to the centermost left, your heels clack together anxiously as they wait directly in front of the barrier of synthetic wood. The condo door opens to a robe-clad Nemuri, her dark luscious hair clipped back into a loose bun while her eyelids are stained black to match it.

The striking sight of her ignites lust in your veins. “Aren’t we too old for secret crushes?” You ask teasingly, eyes unable to pull away from the captivating streaks that enhance the blue of her irises.

Her slightly shimmering pink lips tug into a small crescent shape. “When has it ever been a secret?”

“Well, I don’t know”, you shift your gaze upward as if to recall it. “Maybe since you’ve been sending me emails playing as my secret admirer”, you smile cheekily, but Nemuri’s brows raise a little.

“Emails? I’ve done nothing of the sort.” If this were an act of faux innocence, it’d be a convincing one as her expression doesn’t provide even a morsel of indication about the matter.

Was her letter separate from the ones you received before?

It seems you’ve chosen wrong, but you can’t bring yourself to care—not now that you’ve been reunited with your former lover.

“Oh, my mistake. It’s not like it matters anymore”, you confess, stepping a bit closer to her. “I’m just really glad to see you.”

“Mhmm. And how glad are you really?” Her dainty fingers reach to caress your heated cheeks, eager and waiting to drag you in.

But, before she could minimize the distance herself, your arm swiftly encases the back of her form, drawing her lips onto yours as your free palm closes the door behind you before tenderly cupping beneath her chin.

She’s rigid at first, taken off guard by your sudden impulse to relent to the magnetism tugging between you both, but she soon reciprocates your touches.

The slippery wetness of her mouth is tantalizing as you nip at the soft skin on the sides, suppressing the underlying desire to devour her completely.

Her muffled gasps send sharp vibrations against your teeth, you consume each of her breaths with a ceaseless ardor as she continues to pant heavily from the intensity of your meshing lips. Your tongue easily slips between the gap while she sucks it into her mouth shamelessly to intertwine it with her own.

A sheen of sweat begins to coat your chest and neck at the brewing heat from the intensity of your movements. Her back arches against you as you make kneaded circles on the plump of her rear, fondly cupping the round flesh with the meat of your palms.

Your lips trail down to suckle where her chin meets her neck, and her unrestrained moans are much clearer as she releases them unabashedly into the air with each of your nibbles against her.

As your heated lips travel lower beneath her robe, you suddenly pull away to meet her gloss-eyed gaze.

“I’ve got you something”, you whisper softly,

placing a velvet beige box into the palms of her hands. “I always thought gold would complete you, not that you really need any accessories to look as elegant as you do.”

Her painted eyelids are downcast as she looks over the pair of golden handcuffs neatly nestled in the box’s cushion, while the whites of her eyes grow a bit in awe. “How sweet of you.” The corners of her lips curl upward significantly at that. “Now, let’s take this elsewhere”, she continues, turning to lead the way to her bedroom—a long but intriguing journey through her labyrinth of halls until you’re past a walnut door frame.

Deep rich ebony coats the spacious walls of her room while dimly lit lamps lie in all corners. The dark and dreamy aesthetic of her bedroom is also mimicked by her comforter and matching pillows at the very center of it all.

Nemuri ascends the small steps to reach the platform that supports her bed before placing the box aside and stopping at the edge to face your charmed demeanor.

Her pale hands begin slowly peeling at her robe to reveal the lace panties and vermillion garter belt adorning her creamy thighs, and the matching cherry-red lace bralette cupping her pointed breasts.

You eye her with a vehement hunger flushing through your system, but she returns a waiting look, ogle traveling across your form desperate to see the skin beneath. As you compliantly strip yourself bare, she paces away to her bedside table before returning with a silver chain around her palm.

Your glistening folds are exposed to her calculating touches while she closes the distance to stroke the lubricated petals between her fingertips, other hand tightly gripping your side to keep you anchored as you tremor in her hold from the feel of her movements. Your head droops clumsily onto her shoulder, muffling the sounds of your whines into her skin.

Muscle-wracking arousal builds in your steadily protruding bud, darting throughout your sex then dispersing in duller shockwaves to the surrounding nerve endings. Cool rubber suddenly clamps the sides of your clit, you arch into Nemuri at the intense pangs it delivers to your lower half, shaking and tensing as you recover from the overflowing arousal.

You soon discover that the clamp is connected to the chain in her hand, and she grins wickedly upon watching your dumbfounded expression that accompanies that discovery. She jerks at it carefully as she strings you along to the side of her mattress until you're standing wobbly before her.

“Kneel for me", she commands, hands still gripped tightly around your chain to tug you downwards.

Your knees fold instantly at her demand, face wincing at the pleasureful twitches of your nub from the chafing against it whenever you move in the slightest.

The faint floral notes of her perfume waft through the air in an intoxicating cloud around you. She pulls at your leash and you reel forward, aching but insatiably drawn to the damp patch between her spread legs, sucking through the sheer fabric until she begins to writhe against you.

You give a few more appreciative licks before reaching to remove the lacy barrier and reveal her lightly trimmed and puffy lips underneath it. Your tongue gives a testing slurp at first, poking and prodding between the damp skin to gather her flavor.

The mild salty taste of her sex glazes your mouth as you lap at her folds with increased ardor, brazenly suffocating your lower face in her wetness while your nose is tickled by the short violet pubes around it.

“Mmm, just like that”, she hums, pointed nails digging into the base of your scalp to provide delicious, but addicting pain you bask in with the greed of a masochist.

With each of your swipes at her mound, she yanks involuntarily at your bud causing you to moan into her and send vibrations directly through her skin.

Her warm thighs clamp the sides of your head as the combined arousal and spit allows you to swiften your pace in correlation to her increased sighs from your ministrations. They eventually hold you in a choking vice grip, but you continue to guzzle her fluids as she quivers strongly through orgasm.

“So good for me”, she says between broken exhales, rewarding your diligence by giving more attention to your neglected cunt.

She uses your leash to guide you to your feet, clear liquid smears the insides of your legs for her to see, and she wets her lips at the sight. “Get on your knees so that I can take a closer look”, she smirks, gesturing to her oversized bed.

You climb the mattress before pushing your ass backwards sensually to display your puckering hole. The moment away from her touch is agonizing as cool air brushes through your uncovered sex.

“I got this just for you”, Nemuri says upon returning, holding a pink glass dildo with a speckled heart base before your very eyes. “So think of me whenever you use it.” She peels away to prod the slick toy inside your opening, and as she eases the mysterious toy inside, your clit is pulled to aid its entry and relax your walls even more.

You feel the complex ridges along it as the toy is moved in and out of your opening in languid thrusts, your arms collapse to gain your bearings from the already pent up arousal. Your throaty sobs into the sheets make Nemuri chuckle softly at your squirming form, but she continues her slow yet even strokes.

Your womb quickly starts to seize around the dildo, the combined aching pressure on your nub and the stimulation against your walls becoming a lot to bear.

Hot tears stream from your tightening eyes while your fingers burrow deeply into the mattress to tame your rising pleasure.

“Too much for you already?”Nemuri coos teasingly amidst her movements. “If you ask nicely I can give you what you want.”

The nagging coil in your gut grows more difficult to ignore, your climax is a ticking time bomb away as the ignited flames in your nerves begin to travel up your spine for rupture.

“Nemuri, please, I need you”, you say, your voice verges on a whisper.

“So sweet. Of course, my angel”, she speaks softly and her praise winds you tighter than you thought was possible. Her precise thrusts batter your most sensitive areas until a series of pathetic pleas trickle from your bitten, bruised lips.

Sparkles of white zap behind your eyes as the wave of your orgasm finally washes over you in incessant blast, a series of violent blooms unleashing into your veins before settling into thinner tingles.

Your body has fully collapsed onto the bed, and Nemuri falls beside you to scoop your damp forehead against her chest.

“I’ve missed you”, she purrs closely, placing delicate kisses across your skin before murmuring more praises quiet enough for only you to hear.

You relish in her gentleness before succumbing to the greatest slumber of your weeks.

Nemuri’s affection always has and always will be a difficult one to live without.

THIS IS SO GREAT ARRGGGG YOU ARE SO GREAT IVE BEEN COUNTING DOWN THE DAYS FOR THIS AND IT DID NOT DISAPPOINT AHRHRHAGAGAHD

To the One I Greatly Cherish

18+ CONTENT AHEAD MDNI

✦pairings: Nemuri Kayama (Midnight) x afab!reader, Emi Fukukado (Ms. Joke) x afab!reader

✦word count: 4.7k (this part only), 9.4k (total)

✦summary: A series of anonymous love letters fill your inbox days before the world's most notable romantic holiday, but who could possibly be your secret admirer? Will you be able to find out their identity in time for Valentine's Day?

✦warnings: slight angst, guilt, kissing, massages, mutual fingering, oral sex, clit-leashing, vaginal sex, dildos, praise, begging, pet names (angel)

✦a/n: A special fic for the folks that only got love from fictional characters this year (me)

This fic has different endings depending on who you think wrote the letters (you’ll have to choose a link at the bottom), but I’d recommend reading both for the full context.

To the one I greatly cherish,

If you’re captivating eyes manage to stumble upon this message, then you must know how often you cross my mind.

And how there isn't a breath I take that isn't fueled by my desire to be with you one day.

Even from a distance, your presence will continue to consume me, although I'm afraid you won't understand.

Longing for you always,

Your Secret Admirer

It’s only been a day since you’ve discovered that someone wants to pursue you from afar.

The first message from this unknown sender was delivered with an eye-catching header to your school email address, one which you clicked with an urgency, zipping across the romantic lines before your cursor could keep up with you. The thought of it still sends a fresh rush of warm fervor through your system at the possibility of who it may be.

When was the last time someone yearned for you, let alone expressed it in such a heartfelt way?

A blaring bell chimes to interrupt your reminiscence. It's a signal for another day's work at U.A. High School, and as the Heroics Department’s Journalism teacher you mustn’t spend your time idly.

Dozens of students flock to their seats, some bright-eyed and eager to learn, while others give distant, dull gazes you’re certain wouldn’t falter even if the sky were to somehow collapse into your very classroom.

No matter, you’ll teach the subject with utmost enthusiasm as it’s one you’ve been passionate about since youth. Many of your teenage years were spent gathering first hand sources on heroic symbolism, the faults/benefits of quirk regulation, and more. You managed to garner a following for yourself on all socials—though whether you’re a good journalist or not has always been…up for debate.

Today’s lesson goes by swiftly, with you discussing privacy rights and the importance of examining a source’s background and potential interests. It's a lesson you could've used many years ago, nonetheless, you believe you'll shape your students into promising reporters even as you grow from your past mishaps.

The next period gives you an opportunity to collect your thoughts; an empty classroom makes for an empty mind, although your fingers itch to finally text your best friend about the whole “secret admirer” ordeal.

You: Gained a potential love interest today👀

Emi: Right, and it's not that one loser from the bar again is it?

You: Hmm, maybe. They're a secret admirer after all

Emi: So, secretly the loser from the bar?

You: I’d hope not, but the secret part does make that sound a bit more alluring.

You: Let's grab coffee later so I can tell you more.

Your phone slides from your hands and onto the desk in exchange for the stack of papers you were meant to grade. Your pointy, red pen taps against your bottom lip as you scan over the neat arrangement of letters at the top of the stack, checking and ticking along the margins then repeating this for the next page or until class ends.

The lunch bell inevitably releases you from your dreary task, and you're quick to align the correct stacks in their designated corners before gathering your lunch box and taking off toward your usual secluded spot.

Students line the walls in minimally chaotic rows, something you've come to appreciate as order is always upheld in U.A. despite how small.

You turn the corner into an empty hall, but your heart plunges into your ass upon looking to the very end of it to discover the long, violet strands and crimson lenses of Nemuri Kayama.

In an instant, you think to escape before she makes out your presence, but just when you turn on your heels to do so she gives you a condescending smirk while raising a palm to give a curt wave.

The controversy of your past always seems to linger.

“Afternoon, Kayama”, you keep your introduction brief upon clashing with her stark center amidst the path.

“Professor Kayama”, she corrects snobbishly. “Remember, this is a school environment, not one of your trashy articles.” Her shapely brows frown as she grits her teeth.

You give her a faux grin to appease her ridiculous standards of professionalism. “Trashy or blunt truths you chose to avoid?”

Her eyes nearly roll back into their sockets. “If you're the source of truth, then maybe the world is too incapable to seek it themselves.” Kayama whips her hair away with a pale hand, the click-clack of her heels echoing against the tile as she storms off.

You're just glad the whole thing is over with.

You stumble upon your destination; a quiet gated area outside the back of the school. The trees around it are ample of life, leaving shadowy freckles of shade across your skin as you sit beneath its thick heads of leaves.

Your head turns to and fro while you attempt to spot the signature dark wardrobe of your occasional accompanier, but it seems he hasn't arrived today.

Besides you and Aizawa, no one else has noticed this area's unusual privacy, but it makes things all the more peaceful.

You chow down on leftovers from yesterday's dinner then depart to begin teaching the last two classes; stringing together repetitions from the lesson earlier except with more exaggeration on the privacy aspect.

You head out to meet Emi minutes before the final bell rings, giving your class an early dismissal as long as they agree to go about it quietly.

You've known Emi since high school, although you ultimately decided to teach at U.A. for more newsgathering opportunities. Emi never lets you hear the end of it as she jokingly calls you the traitor of Ketsubutsu whenever you'd mention your experiences there.

While you weren't in the heroics program back when you were a student, you made notable achievements as an intern for a national website by investigating scandals of corrupt heroes and crafting opinion pieces on the ethics of hero society.

You met Emi at the beginning of your first-year orientation, with the two of you sitting beside each other at the assembly hall, playing off of each other's jokes in whispers and concealed giggles to keep yourselves entertained.

You could never bring yourself to admit that she's the funniest of the two of you, but you've always spoken of how you admire her approach to heroism as she brings smiles to civilian's faces even without the use of her quirk.

Sweet aromas of vanilla and herbs waft through the coffee shop air, with dim lights illuminating the rustic interior and dark wooden tables placed in all corners.

Emi’s seated near the end of the cafe and has already ordered you and her drinks. You make your way to her table, teeth gleaming and eyes bright while meeting her own eager, chartreuse ones.

“Hey, what’s the news?”Emi chirps, sliding a cup to your end of the table.

You hold the drink firmly before releasing a small sigh. “Not much to tell. I still don’t have the slightest clue as to who they might be.”

“I’m excited!” Her smile grows wider as she twists side to side with glee. “What’ll you do once you find out?”

“Probably marry them or something. I mean, no one has ever gone through this much effort for me”, you jape despite the depressing reality of your words, then take a sip of your drink, savoring the familiar flavors with each gulp.

She puckers her lips to give a playful pout. “Does this mean you’ll replace me?” She asks with fake weariness. “Does what we have mean so little to you?”

You reassure her teasingly, “Don’t worry, I’ll marry you next if things don’t work out this time.”

She taps her lips with her straw as if considering. “With such a good offer, I’m not sure if I want to help you with this anymore.”

“Oh, come on, Emi. You know I’ll always love you.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll help you”, she relents. “Maybe you should try picking a person close to you and observing them.”

“Hmm…funnily enough, I’m not that close to any of my coworkers. It’s weird I received a love letter through my school email at all.” You reach down to take another hefty sip.

“But there’s gotta be someone you know at least a little more than the others.”

You take a moment to ponder. “Sometimes, I sit with Aizawa during lunch, although we don’t talk often so we just enjoy each other’s silences.”

Emi’s brows raise noticeably. “Yikes…if anything I’d think he’s your least likely candidate.”

“I know, but there aren’t many options to choose from. Kayama hates me, I hardly get a chance to speak to Mic or Vlad outside of meetings, and All Might is…All Might.”

“Well, if Aizawa is your best bet there shouldn’t be harm in looking into him anyways, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so...”

You and Emi’s talk concludes with exchanged hugs before you take your train home, contemplating Emi’s suggestion and how to go about your approach.

When you arrive, you hastily discard your work clothes before putting on something more comfortable and lounging on your bed to reread the email you received.

Is this really something Aizawa would write, you hesitantly contemplate to yourself, scanning over the flowery words and recoiling at the idea of him putting them together—you ultimately decide it’s tomorrow's problem.

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

To the one I greatly cherish,

I hope you’re pleased reading my messages as much as I am while writing them.

As the time passes, I find my days to be progressively trivial without you.

My most profitable successes are worthless as they’re void of your companionship. My biggest fear overlaps with my inability to have you.

Will we ever be united? It’s up to fate to decide.

Continuing to be blessed by you,

Your Secret Admirer

Today’s letter creates new waves of violent jitters along your spine, coupling with the preexisting dread that’s already palpitating through your system at the thought of approaching Aizawa about it.

You’re unsure how you’d feel if you found out he truly had feelings for you, and while you told Emi you’d probably reciprocate them, you can’t say that for certain.

You've grown to respect Aizawa to some degree after investigating his days as the underground hero, Eraserhead, but nothing more as of yet.

Only time will tell, for now you’d just like to get to the bottom of who’s been plotting to romance you, once and for all.

The lunch bell eventually stirs to life, and with your steeled resolve, you hurriedly pace along the halls, toward the back of the school.

The dark blue doors feel heavy against your palms as you press on them to finally arrive at the shaded area. Its lulling atmosphere is as undisturbed as you expected, you spot Aizawa’s rugged form on a bench, faced away and gazing at the limited scenery of the campus.

“Hey, is it okay if I sit here?” You ask upon approaching him while awkwardly hovering outside his range of sight.

He nods slightly but makes no effort to turn your direction.

You take a seat beside him, picking at the prints of your fingers to occupy yourself and the silence. “It’s beautiful weather for February, isn’t it? I honestly expected a little more snow”, you finally attempt to break the tension.

He hums softly in agreement but nothing more.

“Valentine’s day is right around the corner, but I’m not one to usually celebrate it”, you pause, clenching your peeling fingers into a snug fist. “What about you—”

“You’re awfully chatty today”, Aizawa interrupts, his voice gruff with irritation as his hands hook along the sides of his scarf.

Your words are nearly caught on your tongue. “I’m sorry?”

“If this is for one of your news columns or something, I have no interest in gossiping.”

You sneer, turning fully to face him, but only his stoic, disinterested profile can be seen. “That’s not my field of work and you know it. Haven’t you read any of my reports?”

“Possibly, but it’s not like I’d remember those kinds of things.”

Ouch.

“Whatever, it’s nothing. Sorry to have bothered you.” You defeatedly rise from your seat, throat and eyes stinging from the heat that grows with each step you take toward the door.

This isn’t the first time your work has been reduced to pandering nonsense, but for some reason it hurts way more than usual.

“Fuck”, you mutter quietly, sniffling away in the nearest bathroom stall as you try to collect yourself.

Has it really been that long since you’ve written something that deconstructed the masses view on heroics? You must’ve grown too complacent at this school—in fact, this is where it all went wrong.

Choosing to become a teacher instead of risking your comfort to uncover hidden truths wasn’t what you initially planned.

But is it so wrong to change paths even when your prior choice was deemed more impactful?

Is it so wrong to write proposals about a hopeful, nonexistent future than to expose more darkness of a knowingly ineffective society? You’ve long realized the corruption runs deeper than you ever could’ve hoped to shed light on. You journal about the new era of quirks, searching for an ability that’ll make the old way of things seem outdated.

Is that too foolish to look forward to?

Your phone vibrates along your clothes’ seams, and you swiftly remove it from your pocket as you swipe away the last of your tears.

Emi: Soo, is Aizawa dying to be with you or what???

A small smile creeps up your cheeks at her overwhelming interest.

You: Nope. It was a complete shut down.

Emi: It’s okay. I’ve been there too, Aizawa’s tough.❤️

A hefty exhale escapes you before you finally make yourself presentable enough to return to your classroom and finish teaching for the rest of the day.

Once classes end, Mic summons all of the heroics teachers into the teacher’s lounge to invite everyone out for drinks in celebration of his podcast’s growing success.

You: I was invited to go to a club with my coworkers tomorrow night, should I go?

Emi: Yes!! How else will you find your true love?!

You: Yeah, but with Aizawa and Kayama it'll be awkward :(

Emi: Aizawa doesn't go out on school days so you should be down at least one problem

You: Fair enough, I’ll just try to avoid Kayama the whole night🥲

Now, the only thing left to do is prepare yourself for another long day of hardships…

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

To the one I greatly cherish,

Come find me on Valentine’s Day so that I'll be rightfully yours. Let your heart guide you to the correct choice if you feel the same as I.

Thinking of you fondly,

Your Secret Admirer

Unlike the emails from before, today's love letter arrives a half hour after school ends rather than before it starts, and is much briefer in length.

You’re expected to somehow discover the identity of your admirer within a few days and without much to go off of.

It’s almost like they never wanted to be discovered in the first place.

Sharp pin-pricks zip through palms and into your twitching fingertips as the nervous chill that’s pervaded your body attempts to find an outlet through your skin.

If only they knew their longing is being reciprocated…

You aid your shudders with disordered breaths, mentally counting each dry pant before drafting a text to update Emi on the state of your situation.

To pass the time before meeting with your coworkers and to get your mind off the whole letter ordeal, you spend the rest of the evening formulating your lesson plans for the next week.

It’s tedious but necessary work as you ultimately decide on journalism ethics and informed opinions for the topics.

Emi still hasn’t responded to your texts since before classes ended, although you know she’ll want you to persist with going out anyways.

Nighttime arrives and you promptly put together a casual yet tasteful look then exit your home with the weight of the world seemingly trapped in your chest. The ride there is even more disorienting with clammy passengers cramming all corners of the train and bracing themselves for each turn with the lack of space.

Luckily, the trip is short as you find yourself standing before the glowing green lights of the club’s name etched in neon, with purple hues also trailing the rim of it and leading down to the snowy glass doors.

You tug at the elongated handles, breath caught in your throat as you take your first steps toward the source of your unease.

Ambient music sweeps through your ears, its vibrations jolting enough to stir the hairs on your skin and rattle the depths of your bones. Your eyes drift across the arrangement of floundering civilians to spot the bright yellow of Mic’s hair as he’s seated on a stool closest to the front of the bar.

His hands flail outwardly to make exuberant gestures while he speaks to a hooded man beside him. Kayama also sits near Mic, slender fingers cupped around a glass with a salted rim and lemon. Her glossy lips meet the edge of it as her gaze passes between Mic and the unfamiliar man as they speak.

How long will you continue to watch from a distance?

Your hands cup the sides of your arms for comfort—but suddenly, as if Kayama could feel the force of your stare, her intense blue irises spot you in her periphery before promptly shifting away.

Your body moves backward mechanically to leave until you feel your phone chime against you.

Call me, the message from Emi reads, and you take off toward a dark, empty hallway at the end of the club to do just that.

Thankfully, the area is quiet and private enough for you to make the call.

“Hey, have you reached the bar yet?” Emi cheerfully answers after the first ring.

You press the phone tightly to your ear. “Yeah, but I’m not sure if I can do this anymore. I feel so out of place here”, your voice drifts as you speak, tone shaky and uncertain.

“I get what you mean. It must be exhausting to perform in front of people you’re not really familiar with.”

“Right. I just never expected having a secret admirer to be so…stressful.” Your head falls back against the wall as you shut your eyes gently. “How will I ever find out who they are if they never plan to reveal themselves?”

“I’m not sure, but if you really want to find out this may be your only chance.”

“Yeah, then I should probably get back to it... Thanks, Emi.” You take a last sigh of relief before reluctantly hanging up to go back to the rest of the group.

As you turn the corner to retreat, a dizzying force crashes into you and sends your heels tumbling backward, scrambling for a tidbit of balance.

Before an apology could form on your tongue, you recognize the passerby as no one other than Kayama and begin to pull yourself away.

“ ‘m sorry, just came to check up on you”, Kayama’s words are slightly slurred as she speaks. She clumsily swipes her purple wisps from her deeply stained cheeks. Her eyes are glassy, pupils blown as they examine you with an intrigue you’ve never witnessed from her.

“Are you drunk?” You ask hesitantly, but she only blinks at you slowly.

“Just tipsy, but come on.” Her hand locks around your wrist as she pulls you along the halls to lead you back to the bar, and for some reason you don’t pull away. You opt to be dictated by her impulse despite the conflict that’s always existed between you.

Mic and the stranger have gone off somewhere by the time you both return. Kayama pulls herself to the counter and orders another round of shots after awkwardly pointing along the lengthy menu provided to her.

Three clear glasses are slid in front of you with a smirk passing over Kayama’s lips.

You question if her actions are a drunken whim or a genuine attempt to mend your strained dynamic, but you don’t think it matters much.

This’ll make things easier, right?

Fuck it. You gulp down all three shots consecutively, jaw tightening as the burning liquid courses down your throat and through your chest. Heat seeps into your nerves while the alcohol begins to conquer your judgment.

Kayama’s smile grows wider, a giddy hum passing through her lips. “Let’s have some fun!” She redirects you once more, except to the dance floor as the next song begins to play.

Her body begins to sway delicately to the thrums of each beat, a series of synchronized yet hypnotic movements possessing her limbs as her piercing eyes remain on yours.

She shuffles a little closer then places a soft palm on your shoulder, trailing down along your sleeves then grasping your hand again tightly. She twirls away on the tips of her feet, free hand extended outward, before pulling into you and pressing her back firmly against your chest, while her hips curve into your own.

As quickly as she spins into you, she turns back to face you with her features no more than a breath away from yours. She stills for a moment, quietly taking in each ridge across your cheeks and the delicate shape of your lips.

“You’re really hot, y’know that?” She speaks tenderly against you, although there’s an underlying sadness as she utters it, one her facial expression seems to mimic as well.

“Buut…I still haven’t forgiven you”, she winks without any trace of her earlier gloom present. The heat of her closeness disappears to leave you cold and aching as she turns away to leave the club without another word.

Her words still echo across your synapses while the clarity of her silhouette slowly fades until gone completely.

You've wronged her but have yet to atone even though the guilt of your actions continue to fester and swell in your chest to engrave rotten, pus-filled holes in the walls of your heart. It oozes and drips into your veins as it spoils you, body and mind.

Would she ever accept your pleas of forgiveness if you were to give them to her? Does she too believe that the tight-walk around the conversation has gone on for too long?

You anxiously text Emi on the way home.

You: I think I may have found my secret admirer

Maybe the letters were a ruse to finally address things once and for all…

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

The very next morning Emi sends a message to your school email.

Hey

No service right now but email me back if you need anything :)

Emi

A wave of relief washes over you now that you’ve been given the reasoning for Emi’s lack of responses.

You’re eager to give her more juicy details on your valentine, but you’d rather discuss with her in person once classes end.

Today is a typical Friday, with students excitedly whispering discussions of their weekend plans, and teachers assigning the appropriate amount of coursework for the next two days off.

Despite the upcoming weekend, you won’t be at ease as Valentine’s Day will be on the approaching Monday and you’re still dissatisfied with your “investigation”.

You’ve yet to see Midnight, even after intentionally passing her classroom, but other than that classes go by swimmingly.

Emi receives your email begging her to let you come over to her apartment so that the two of you can chat and she obliges.

Still dressed in your work attire, you give a few taps on the beige door to Emi’s apartment, which opens the moment your knuckles retreat from its smooth wood.

"Hey, come on in”, Emi greets, swiftly turning so that you'd follow her into her lavish living room, adorned with patterned wallpaper and two lime-green suede sofas at the center.

She sits on the farthest end of one of the couches and you join right beside her. The small coffee table before you is already decorated with snacks and drinks, you smile at the thought of having another movie night or sleepover with her.

“So tell me about it already”, Emi says, eyes wide and fingers clasped together as if she’s pleading.

“Emi, you're not going to believe me when I tell you who it is”, you begin as you reach passively for a bottle of water to occupy your hands.

She gasps. “No way, is it Kayama?”

You nod with a smug grin. “I think so, but I'm not one-hundred percent sure yet.”

“What makes you think it's her? She totally hates you.”

“That's what I thought too, until she started dancing with me at the club the other night.”

Emi claps her palms over her mouth as you continue, her emerald brows nearly touching the soft hairs of her hairline.

“We were both a bit drunk but I still think it was odd she tried to initiate anything with me at all.”

“Did you get a chance to talk with Mic or the others?” Emi asks with undeviating attention.

“No, not once. I doubt they had anything to do with this otherwise they would've made an attempt to reach out to me.” You focus on the feeling of the cool condensation on your fingers as you speak, rolling the thin plastic bottle between each hand.

Emi hums in agreement. “Good point. And going by the emails, this person must really-really like you. They're not just someone who passed you by and thought you were cute.”

“Yeah, putting it that way means Midnight is the only one I’ve had a history with, even though we’ve…drifted apart.” You let out a deep sigh before finally taking a few gulps of water. “Emi, things would’ve been so much easier if you were the one behind this.” Your pouty eyes meet hers, and for a second her expression is unreadable.

“What if I actually was?” She asks softly, but her features are stern as she awaits your reply. Her body unconsciously shifts closer to you while yours goes rigid.

“You mean, you’re my secret admirer?”

“Mhmm.” Her stare slowly trails to your lips and lingers there for what feels like an eternity.

You swear your cheeks are searing to the touch as warmth spreads beneath your skin from the intensity of her look.

“I’m just kidding!” Emi suddenly beams then playfully taps your shoulder. “You should’ve seen the look on your face.”

“Don’t joke like that Emi. My heart was racing.” You can’t bring yourself to look her in the eyes.

“Good, that means you’ve fallen for me.”

Shortly after talking with Emi, she puts on a romcom that she's been wanting to see for ages, but you can hardly pay any attention to it.

Are you overthinking what she said earlier?

It feels like you’ve known Emi forever, but it’s still hard to tell when she’s being serious at times.

Maybe you shouldn’t brush off the possibility of there being some truth to what she suggested, after all, she could’ve easily sent you those emails at any moment.

You decide not to sleepover at Emi’s house that night due to the unusual nervousness that accompanies you at the thought of sharing a bed with her.

Under the comfort of your duvet, you look into the pitch-black darkness of your room, silently meditating on what you’ve gathered while looking into your admirer's identity.

You vividly recall Kayama’s fleeting interest in spending time with you and how it correlates with the sudden letters. Do her feelings for you remain despite all that’s happened?

You also begin to ruminate the feel of Emi’s harsh stare as she spoke with you earlier. When she entertained your misled thoughts about the emails, was it merely façade?

After deliberating, only one conclusion seems most sensical to you. The orchestrator of it all has to be

Emi ✦ Kayama

Was it your birthday recently?

YES IT WAS!!!!! MY BIRTHDAYW WAS THE 28TH

hiya :3

hi tobegiggledat

Transmitted Mercy

18+ CONTENT AHEAD MINORS DNI

❀pairings: Yandere!Mandalay x Villain!reader

❀warnings: reader has a vagina (no pronouns used), dub con, character death, intrusive-like thoughts/voices in head, oral sex, vaginal fingering, unhealthy relationship dynamics, reader guilt, manipulative behavior, verbal abuse, mindbreak(?), kidnapping

❀word count: 2.8k

❀a/n: More wwp, folks! I’ve actually been sitting on this draft for a while now and I'm ready to get rid of it.

One minute until the heroes arrive.

Your hands swipe desperately at the remaining rolls of cash as your allies gather their duffles to make their exit. You’ve packed the most you could despite the trembles that course through your limbs with each second that passes with you under the gaze of panicked civilians.

“We gotta get outta here!”, your ally, “Three” shouts as he secures the luggage across his hip, tufts of violet strands protruding from under his babydoll mask with each movement. “Six’ll set it off any moment now, let’s go.” He makes his way across the clerk counter and you soon follow suit.

Yet, as you toss your legs from behind it, you briefly catch the eyes of what you assume to be a vigilant mother; with burgundy irises that lack fear, unlike the others, which scan your features with an angered intensity—an expression much like that of a hero.

“Kota!”, she quickly shouts, and a young boy with a crimson, spiked hat curls at her side amidst all the frantic scuffling; she holds him closer.

A sliver of concern strikes you at the sight, but another rough push at your shoulder is quick to bring you back to reality. “The fuck are you doing?” Three looks back, but even with the mask on his bewilderment is still evident. “Get movin’ or we’ll leave you behind.”

Right, this is a robbery. You were prepared to risk the lives of other people, even if they were children.

You follow Three away from where the diversion will go off, tucked away in one of the private offices toward the back.

Once Six sets off the explosion, you’ll only have a small window to escape before the other walls collapse and take the rest of the building with it.

The moment before the detonation is almost everlasting. It’s still. You hear the faint thrumming of your heart as it’s swollen with adrenaline, while the friction of your teeth is enough to puncture your bottom lip.

A deafening burst finally shoots through the air. Your ears ring at the sudden impact, but you’re quick to recover, throwing your duffle across your shoulder then making swift strides toward the newfound opening.

Smoke and debris initially distort your view of the outside, but it clears up as you get near it.

You carefully inch your way toward it and there's—bright blue and red lights?

You're now even closer than before.

Your chest soon collapses at the sight of flashy costumes and police cars; the heroes came quicker than expected, the getaway car has been destroyed, and most of your allies have been apprehended.

In an instant, you tumble from alleyway to alleyway, quirkless and afraid, as nippy footsteps trail behind you.

You were never meant for this kind of lifestyle, but it’s not as if you ever had anything to lose. So when a minor group of villains requested your aid in a robbery, you leapt at the opportunity to finally be useful, to finally be amongst those with quirks, but now you face the consequences.

They’re going to catch up eventually, you know it. You’re too slow, and coupled with the weight of the duffle, you stand no chance against a bunch of pros, even if they were low tiers.

You fumble with the bag’s zipper to take a wad of cash in each hand before tossing the rest and hoping the amount is worth all the chaos you’re going through.

You pass through more and more alleyways until you finally reach a crowded plaza, in which you shove yourself between civilians, pushing and dodging amongst clueless onlookers for an opportunity of escape.

With a random stroke of luck, you manage to hold out in a nearby bathroom stall until the heroes leave the area.

You take a moment to catch your breath, sliding against the stall door before collapsing in a disheveled heap.

Bruised palms outright, you scan what is left of the measly money you stole;

¥280,000

And it’s even more difficult to fight the tears singeing the corners of your eyes—drooped shoulders as the dread you’ve repressed throughout it all finally bubbles to the surface.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

A few months have passed since the incident but the lingering guilt is still aflame within you, scorching the pit of your stomach as it's smoke casts dark clouds across your thoughts.

You often recall the woman from back then.

Her disapproving glare seems much sharper in your memories than the day you encountered her, and at times you could even hear her voice and its harshest insults, vividly as they echo across your synapses.

At the moment, they mock your nerve to step foot outside your home, a casual stroll to a nearby bar at that, despite everything you’ve done.

You’ve murdered the only family I have left!

She spouts as you take another swig of your brew.

How could you live with yourself! Cold murderer!

Those words are common.

Sometimes she even laughs. She gives off berating snickers at each of your actions as if she's been here all along. You’ve gone out of your way to avoid most of the news regarding the incident—and you’ll continue to as long as the voice in your head punishes you more than you already do yourself.

Distant chatter and the clanking of weighted glasses ring your ears to further heighten the faint dizziness that's washing over you. You could tell by the decreased speed of your movements and the sudden heat that flares across your skin, that it was time for you to return home to wait out the feeling of drowsiness.

A night of overdrinking can surely have its benefits as with each glass you consume the brash words she spits become unintelligible, and the weight of your burdens course from out of your mind to within your limbs.

You’re in a drunken stupor; wobbling knees treading carefully toward the exit which only seems further and further away with each sloppy step you take. Pressing heavily against the doors has you tumbling quickly toward the stone wall ahead of you once it opens.

Your skin feels icy as it slides against the cool bricks before you finally collapse on the ground; arms thrown across your torso and legs folded every which way.

With weakening stamina, you attempt to fight against the force of your lethargy before failing and slowly fading away into unconsciousness.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

A slit is the most of what you could take in of your surroundings, with your weighted eyelids fluttering with each attempt you make to fight against the alcohol’s effects.

But you do notice your wrists dangle behind you in rigid handcuffs, along with your ankles being strapped to the legs of an old wooden chair; back upright as your chest is secured to it.

A small shuffling sound before you ensures you don’t have much time to take in the environment around you—not that there’s even much to see outside of the blank concrete walls.

“You’re finally awake”, a familiar voice emits, and had it not been so close, you would’ve mistaken it for one of your “delusions”.

Wisps of her auburn hair shape the sides of her face as a scowl makes its way across her recognizable features.

Your jaw barely clings to its hinges as you gape at the sight of her.

“I’m sure you know why you’re here, right?”, she continues.

“I didn’t think you were still alive after all this time”, you finally muster with a tremble as hot tears begin to pool across your lashes. “I’m glad.”

“Glad?” she nearly scoffs at your reply. “Did you forget that you and your goons were still responsible for killing 5 innocents?”

5 innocents?

“N-no, I wasn't aware. I’ve been avoiding most of the news coverage, but I still feel terrible about—”

“Well, I don’t think you feel enough!”, her voice suddenly whips through the air, hard enough for your body to retreat at the abrupt sound.

“You’ll never feel as sorry as I do…”, she trails, but her voice now verges on a whisper.“One of them was Kota—the little boy, you’ve seen him right?”

You give a small nod. “Yes, I remember him well.”

“He’s hated heroes ever since his parents were killed amidst battle, and I always understood him for that, but then I realized I hate people like you even more. The ones who are truly responsible.” Her eyes briefly glaze over but she’s swift to swipe it away “Aren't you going to say something about it?”

You’re left gawking at the enraged crimson that dusts her cheeks, her eyes scrunched in a disapproving glower. “I’m not sure what to say”, you answer hesitantly, head drooping in shame. “I think about it constantly, I just can’t find the right words to express how sorry I feel.”

“Maybe you don’t need them.”

You meet her gaze once more. “I don’t—I don’t understand.”

“As in words”, she steps closer. “Show me how sorry you are—actually, if you’re as remorseful as you claim to be, why haven’t you turned yourself in already?”

“I just thought that it wouldn’t matter at this point, b-but I would if you really wanted me to—I promise I’ll do anything.”

There’s a long pause before she speaks.

“Then, remain here, until I let you go”, she unwaveringly fills the silence. “No food, no water. I’ll torture you for as long as I see fit, or until you finally beg for me to release you.”

“What happens if I go? Will you call the police to come arrest me?”

“I won’t need them. I'll let you go, if you ask.”

“But, why?”

“Because you’re right in a way”, she clears her throat as if her next words are heavy against it. “I think in some cases the worst punishment of all is to never receive one.”

You can’t deny that as it’s written all over your hunched form. “And what about the others? Have you kidnapped them as well?”, you continue to question.

“No, you were the only one who managed to escape, but that was only because I let you.”

“I see.”

“Yes, we’ll see”, she says before turning toward the exit. “We’ll see if you care enough to endure this.” She flicks off the light switch and leaves with a huff, door boisterously slamming behind her in a final act of scorn.

In the dark, you finally notice how chill the empty air is as you shiver with heightened senses. The room is silent and desolate.

Though, it doesn't feel empty much longer…

You won’t last very long. Her voice returns.

Yet you swiftly drift off before you could hear any more of it.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Why won’t you give up already? She awakens you, you’re unaware how long after.

If you really cared you wouldn’t have done it in the first place!

A tender aching spreads across your back and neck from being held upright so long; and soon it travels to the bruises around your limbs, then torso.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

You’re a piece of shit, y'know that?

“Fair”, your reply eventually emits from chapped lips and a rasped throat.

Aren’t you hungry yet?

“Mmm”, you grumble.

I don’t think you can go on for much longer.

Silence instills for what seems like another few hours.

Killer! The voice eventually snaps.

Just leave already! Don’t show your face here anymore!

She goes quiet again.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Was the money worth it?

“No.”

How long will you pretend to be sorry?

Your limbs have lost all feeling.

You're not sorry.

You start to make sense of the darkness around you and it's monotony, forgetting to shut your eyes at times from the lack of stimuli.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

I miss him.

“I’m sorry.” Your tone shakes slightly but you’re unable to produce the tears that would come with it.

Why couldn’t it have been me instead?

“I’m sorry.”

I don’t know what to do now that he’s gone.

“Sorry.”

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

This is getting boring. Give it up.

…

I’m never going to leave your head.

…

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

It’s been a week, are you done now?

You're unable to reply even if you wanted to as the lack of water is starting to show its effects.

You’ve done enough now. Go.

Everything starts to fade away, it becomes increasingly difficult to make sense of the words spoken to you.

Stop doing this to yourself.

If you leave, I’ll understand. Please, just go.

The darkness that you succumb to this time rests behind your eyelids…

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

“Hey! Wake up!” A distant voice speaks.

Real or figmented? You're unsure.

“Don’t die on me. Please?”, the woman's hands cup the sides of your face. You blink gently in her touch.

“You scared me”, she sighs upon noticing it.

“Drink this, hurry!” A cold bottle of water is placed against your lips and you gulp it down with urgency.

The scenery has changed, but the cold air still remains. You're nestled in satin sheets, a plump mattress with cherry wood headboards, which reside in a candlelit bedroom.

Once you're finished, she gives you a red Tupperware filled with some kind of soup, that you also begin to swallow thoroughly.

“I didn’t expect this to go on for so long”, she speaks between your slurps.

“I’m a hero at heart, and even though I’m angry with you I can’t bear to watch it any longer.” She diligently eyes the back of her palms, fumbling with her hands and tracing over invisible patterns on her fingers.

“I’ve actually been watching you for a while now, and with my quirk, I can send telepathic messages to people within a certain area.”

You stare at her blankly.

“My hero name is Mandalay, but you can call me Shino”, she adds.

Her gaze returns to you.

“At first, I used my quirk as an outlet. I would always put the nastiest things into your head out of frustration, to make you feel worse about the things you've done. But on some days, you would visit the bank site, or even cry…So, as much as I hate you, a part of me has grown to like you as well”, she gives a weak upturn of her lips. “I couldn’t wrap my head around it, so I had to bring you here”, she nods, confirming the statement to herself.

“And now that you’re here…” Her hands find yours to hold them closer to her own. “Please, just stop it already.” Her eyes burrow into your features in hopes you’d see where she stood, no matter how jarring her misplaced affection may seem.

But there isn’t much left of you to do so. “I’m sorry”, you murmur at last.

And she whispers almost defeatedly, a soft “I know”.

Fervent lips place a quick kiss on your left cheek then pull away so that she can gaze upon you. Her lashes are still moist from earlier, yet her pupils are blown large with passion.

They go in for another taste of your skin, meshing with the corners of your own lips before trailing toward the center. Despite the intensity of them, yours remain pressed together as you shut your eyes, submitting to her affections—body still, but not outright refusing what’s to come.

She squeezes your cheeks to prod her tongue inside your obedient mouth, swiping along the sides and roof of it then pulling away to form a string of spit between you.

Eager fingers wrap roughly around your breasts as she settles for making more unreturned kisses against your collarbone. Then from your collarbone to stomach, where she lifts your top to lick stripes across you while holding more of the soft flesh delicately between her teeth.

She finally tugs at your bottoms to reveal your soaked underwear while her head rests at the apex of your thighs so that she could better reach it.

Her wet tongue smears more slick across the covered lips, adding more to the growing wet patch on your undies. You unconsciously arch into her mouth, grinding with each of her movements to satiate the unexpected arousal.

When she finally craves more of you, she pulls your panties away before eyeing your glistening folds intently then brushing her fingertips across them.

Her breath is warm as it fans across your pussy, but she soon closes the gap, gathering spit on your clit while swirling her tongue around it continuously.

Your body complies with her touches; legs trembling around the sides of her head while your eyes tighten more from the strength of her flicks on your bud.

Waves of pleasure gradually build around the walls of your sex when two lithe fingers suddenly curl into your opening, as they poke and prod until they finally reach what they've been looking for. The contact with it has your fists tightening and toes curling; a pattern of small moans erupt from your previously tight pressed lips to create an uncontrollable symphony.

She retreats from you with evidence of your arousal streaking her chin. You shiver at the loss, though her fingers continue to work inside you while her thumb caresses your clit.

You're brought into another kiss, but with each gasp more of your taste invades your mouth. Her thumb eventually finds a rhythm that has you hurling towards climax; you quickly tense around her before slouching into her hold.

As you settle down from your high, she tightens around you then brings her damp fingers to encase your cheeks.

“I love you”, she speaks softly with bated breath.

“I'm sorry”, is all you whimper in reply.

You Will Always Be Laughed At

18+ CONTENT AHEAD MINORS DNI

❀pairing: Emi Fukukado (Ms. Joke) x GN!reader

❀warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamics, victim blaming, gaslighting, implied past rape/noncon, mild sexual content, implied kidnapping

❀word count: 1.5k

To your surprise, disheveled appearances aren't enough to catch the sights of a large crowd. A makeshift gown of tattered linen is slung loosely across your shoulders, but remains tainted as it chafes at your bruises just as abrasively as when you were lying unwillingly against it.

It evades the grasp of your twitching fingertips, the unforgettable scent of blood and stolen sex still lingers within its threads, permeating your judgement even though you're way past the reach of her doorstep.

Dust coats your soles in a thin, chalky layer, feet singed by the sidewalk’s heat, you tiptoe through bypassing civilians, many who hardly turn their cheek to your shuddering form and practically scoff at the sight.

“Can someone help me please!”, you finally shout within the sea of the unbothered.

And for the most part, no one pays any mind to your panic-stricken sentences, dodging each desperate flail of your arms outwardly as you try to draw more attention to yourself, and the weakened state of your body.

Dread starts to seep through your aching muscles and into your bones, the crowd is thinning out the further you travel along this lonely path—it's hopeless you think.

That is, until you're finally approached by a businessman just before your light dims completely.

“What’s the matter?” A deep but calm voice emits from the suited man before you, tall and with features too difficult to make out from the intense shadows that cast across them.

“You've gotta help me”, you gulp. “S-she’ll be here any minute, but I don’t know what to do. S-s-she—“

“Alright, I see now.” His collected tone almost borders on cold. “I’m gonna try and look for a hero, but first can you tell me what happened? Who’s she?”

“Emi! A lady with green hair, I was kidnapped by her, and-and…“

The man smiles.

Initially, those small curves at the corners of his mouth are something you brush off as a nervous tick, an unexpected, but common reaction to receiving such news so suddenly.

He wouldn’t find humor in your misfortune would he…

“Sorry about that, you were saying—”

You’d never guess that a sinister chuckle was capable of passing through kind lips, but it does—boisterous and loud as it attracts more confused looks than what you could've ever achieved with your shouting.

“What’s so funny?”, you ask awkwardly between his cackles.

Blood bursts in the veins across his cheeks, his laughs turn into near chokes and gasps for breaths while a crowd finally gathers near.

“Please, help me”, you take advantage of the surrounding people. “I'm in trouble! I was kidnapped by a woman with—”

But even more chuckles emerge around you; some high pitched and squeaky while others are deep enough to rattle your insides—yet all are of the same manic intensity.

“Why are you all laughing? I'm serious, she kidnapped me—the woman with a bandana and green hair.”

It takes a few more interrupting giggles for you to conclude that any further reasoning would be a fruitless endeavor.

Why doesn’t anyone ever listen? What more will it take for your struggles to finally be acknowledged? You’re unsure but these dizzying thoughts eventually shatter any optimism you may have had left.

“Hey!”, says a voice coming from the other way. “There’s my favorite jokester!”

Jokester? Jokester?

Your skin suddenly chills at the nickname and cheerful tone that says it.

A firm hand is placed on your shoulder and by its grip you don't need to meet her eyes to recognize Emi as she stalks behind you, proudly. “What did I tell you about making jokes like that?”

“I-I wasn’t joking though…”, you murmur, shoulders drooping at her touch as your limbs attempt to cocoon you.

“That’s enough. Look at what you’ve caused.” Emi points at the curled over businessman and the other gigglers. “It’s kinda distasteful, don’tcha think, joking about kidnapping and all that stuff? You shouldn’t make people laugh at things like that, yknow?”

“But, it wasn’t my fault. I was trying to—“

The sharp glare of mint irises cut you short.

“C’mon, let’s get back, I don’t want you to cause any more trouble.” She nudges you to take the lead back to her house, which you trail toward meekly under her watch; her eyes a suffocating thread that loops tightly around the base of your neck, and punishes you for movements outside of what she expects.

“Go and wait in the room for me”, Emi says quietly and with an unreadable tone upon reaching and entering the doorway.

You immediately do as you're told, walking briskly to your shared bed then sitting on its edge until she follows suit.

When she enters, she's silent, pacing along the tile to meet your knees as they dangle over the mattress. She stops to look at you closely, but it's difficult to tell what she's feeling when her stare follows the frightened twitches of your lips and the uneasy flickers of your eyes.

“Emi, I’m really sorry”, you begin in hopes of aiding the tension. “I just got overwhelmed this time, you know I love you.”

She slowly pulls at the covers on your trembling figure, without a word. It's a silence that's overwhelmingly thick and difficult to move in.

Not a single trace of her signature smile is present; the one she wears now is trembling, as if a crooked line etched poorly into a stone slab. Though, her face has always been much like that of stone, slowly cracking from the years she’s held a playful façade until her true sinister nature is revealed.

That same playfulness is what roped you into these circumstances, though her stone wasn’t as blemished when you met her initially.

Her cracks have multiplied tenfold since then, and you think your presence and the continuous disagreements that arose from it, may have accelerated them.

“Emi?”, you desperately reach for her arm but she pulls away.

“It’s fine, it's fine”, she says, swatting at the air with the back of her hand. “You just wanted to pull a little trick on me, right?”

“R-right...I guess I thought it would be funny at the time.”

“Oh, you did?” Her brows raise a little at that.

You nod.

“We should really work on your humor then”, she continues. “I don’t like jokes at the expense of others, and you kinda scared me back there.”

“Yeah, sorry...”

She hums softly. “Anyways, enough with the gloomy talk. Let’s do something fun, like earlier, before you ran away.” Her fingers begin to swipe lightly across your shoulders, but you swiftly duck from her touch.

“Oh, I don’t know, I think we should try something else”, you hesitate while trying to inch away from her, but she doesn’t allow it. “How about we-we—”

“C’mon, you know you like it.” She's swift to close the distance, straddling your hips as your back is pressed against the sheets. “After a few minutes, you’re begging me to keep going. You’re always like Emi, don’t stop. Pleeease, I want to cum now, I'm sorry.”

Her hands clumsily reach down to swipe at your slit. “Look, it's already wet, see.” She holds the glistening tips of her fingers in front of you, before bringing them to her lips, and sucking on them obnoxiously until you squirm with embarrassment.

Once she’s finished, she stills, emerald eyes gazing down at you once more.

“Do you know why I like you so much?”, she eventually questions. “You’re always so funny even when you don’t intend to be.” Her body is warm as it rests on your thighs, and when you're calm enough, you could sense how she moves gently with each of her breaths. “I just wish you’d stop sharing that part of you with other people. That’s the real reason why I got so mad earlier, if you were wondering.”

“But I don’t know how to because I never get what’s so funny in the first place”, you say timidly.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t talk as much about what’s going on between us, no one is ever going to take it as seriously as you do.”

The curt way her words leave her lips has you nearly recoiling, you quickly shift from beneath her, weight now resting on your elbows. “What do you mean? I’m telling the truth aren’t I?”

“No, I think you’re confused about our relationship. I wouldn’t do anything to you if I didn’t think you truly wanted it. I mean if I really kidnapped you, why did you walk back here with me so easily? It’s because deep down you realized you were being ridiculous—comical, even—and that being with me is the best place for you and it’s all you’ve got.”

Your jaw clasps tightly with her words repeatedly bouncing between your neurons, you stare blankly at the ceiling, along with its cracks, its dull and peeling paper, and its faint water stains…

You don't even notice Emi’s sorrowful glance until you finally turn toward her and she brings you into her arms. “I'm sorry. I hope I didn't take it too far”, she speaks into the crook of your neck.

“I don’t like being laughed at, Emi.”

“No, no. There’s nothing wrong with being laughed at. It just means you’re a natural comedian.” She pulls away to place a palm on your chest, her nose burrows into your cheek. “My natural comedian.”

IM SO FERAL AT THE EVEN MENTION OF HER NAME OMFFGGGGGGGGG

To Live is to Serve

18+ CONTENT AHEAD MDNI

✦pairing: Yandere!Midnight x afab!reader (no pronouns)

✦warnings: past kidnapping, dubcon, mindbreak, toys (vibrator, dildo, collar, nipple clamps, harness), bdsm dynamics, sub-reader, masturbation, squirting, exhibitionism/voyeurism, cameras

✦word count: 1.5k

A new week means a new beginning, but more importantly new rules, and as Nemuri’s unwilling pet you’ll be expected to uphold whatever whim she has planned for that time.

The golden-lined purple envelope she left for you rests on the dark mahogany of your bedside table. Your body swiftly stirs from its sleep, mechanically reaching for the embellished paper the moment the clock strikes 07:00.

Even without an outside disturbance, the time you wake has been skillfully ingrained within you—months of Nemuri’s careful instruction to mold you into her pliant plaything.

Your fingers tug softly at its glue to reveal the smoothly folded page inside before your bleary eyes scan over the glossy letters along it; skipping past her usual, flowery paragraph at the beginning and glancing over the schedule provided.

It only takes a few rereads before her orders become intrinsic to you, with you noting her first rule by padding across the cold marble, and into your bathroom shower.

Your hands make graceful work of the silk robe along your body, daintily pulling at the strap in the center, then plucking at each button delicately as if it'll shatter from the slightest abrasive touch.

When you were initially brought into her home, you weren’t as willing to comply with her oppressive practices; destroying every gift she bought in an attempt to please you and discovering blind spots in her surveillance whenever you got changed.

But you found that her withering insistence and disappointed expressions began to burrow wounds in your heart, after all, she hadn’t really forced you to do much had she?

As time went on, you grew more interested in accepting her lifestyle, and inevitably realized that the gleaming arrangement of her features whenever she came home to your adorned body was the only thing you looked forward to.

The part of you that was fearful of your compliance had eventually diminished with each of her affectionate, but calculated touches.

She knows how to stimulate every part of you, so she must know what's best for you overall…

1) Begin the day with a warm shower, but be sure to bring yourself to orgasm exactly 2 times, with only your fingers.

Thick steam clouds cascade in the bathroom air as you recall the first task you’ve been assigned. When the water reaches your ideal temperature, you step beyond the glass opening, swirling beneath the water’s stream to coat your skin in warm droplets then reaching for a cloth and bottle of soap to begin lathering your skin.

As the fibers brush over your breasts, you imagine the gentle swipes to be that of Nemuri's grazes, like the feel of her pointed nails tip-tapping along the curves of your neck and spine. It ignites the beginning flickers of heat needed for you to trail your fingers between your damp thighs, shamelessly caressing the outer lips of your sex in scissoring motions while your other hand presses against a wall to keep you balanced.

While your hands are occupied, your mind drifts to devise picturesque renderings of the curves of Nemuri's body—recreating the glow of her porcelain skin within the confines of your skull—imitating the past messy collisions you’ve had with it, all from the firing of arousal-driven neurons.

The pace of your fingertips begin to quicken with each thought before you’re frantically twisting your clit between your thumb and forefinger, rubbing along the slick sides of it until the building electricity seems to run down your legs, to the very soles of your feet. Your knees tremble as sharp jolts of pleasure saturate your nerves and surge through your limbs in prickling waves.

Your arousal reaches its peak with more erotic depictions flashing behind your eyelids. Despite the intensity being enough for you to hurl over and quiver from, the circular motions of your hand continue, parting your throbbing folds with glides then placing a curled finger into your opening and stroking along the ridges.

The desire for her consumes you, flesh to bone, it seeps into your lungs until you’re gasping at the lack of her presence.

Your next climax comes much quicker than the first as your senses have been heightened to spark from even the dullest touches. A brazen cry bleeds from your parted lips while the pressure in your core thrashes against your skin for escape, winding the convulsions of your walls before releasing them with a booming snap that sends you folding once more.

A stream of your tears mix with the dew on your cheeks to collect in a small drop at the base of your chin. You swipe at your puffy eyes before rinsing the remnants of your arousal off your thighs with a shallow stream of hot water and running a rag over your tender sex softly.

Once thoroughly cleaned, you bring the running faucet to a stop then reach for the nearest towel to begin skimming it over your shuddering, orgasm-fatigued body.

You make hurried steps toward your wardrobe, gaze glossing over the selection as you scan for the items mentioned in Nemuri's letter;

2) Put on the following items in the listed order; a leather collar with a ring, a red full-body harness, and weighted nipple clamps.

Your choice for the leather collar is a soft beige one with a small aluminum ring at the center. It fits snugly at the base of your neck, complementing your undertones and pairing well with the vermillion stripes across your hips and chest. You fiddle with the little charms dangling from your nipples as you pose teasingly for the monitor above your dresser, wondering if your body stirs Nemuri’s desire for you the way her mere viewership alters your arousal and every thought.

3) Open the box beneath your bed.

4) Use the small vibrator to the very left; cum once then use the vibrator and middle dildo to cum two more times.

The rich violet box was tucked where expected, you gather the contents inside before placing a velvet towel underneath you then reaching for a bottle of water-based lube on your nightstand.

Your bare legs part in preparation of what’s to come, and with your exposed folds presented to the air, you grab the toy and untuck your swollen clit for better contact.

The vibrator is flat and tucks securely into the crook of your fingers as it’s placed softly against your peeking nub. When the raging vibrations begin, your thighs snap around the sides of your arm in a stifling embrace, trapping it with the strength of a starving predator's jaws that has a meal between its teeth.

You briefly ponder what her alluring cerulean irises would look like as she ogles at your display from behind a screen.

Would she be amused at the desperate contortions you make of your body just for a morsel of the sweet coos she purrs when you’ve been so obedient for her?

Wherever she is, you hope she’s watching diligently—oh god—you hope she’s watching you.

“My, my”, she’d murmur into the crevices of your ear if she were lying beside you, her plump lips curving upward with want. “All this for me?”

The thought alone sends your head spinning, with white consuming your vision as you’re suddenly propelled past the cusp of your climax. Breathy pants escape your mouth in broken pieces, but your pussy is still begging for more stimulation, so you lather the girthy dildo in your fluids and a bit of lube, and start to nudge at your opening.

Lust kindles in your abdomen until it outbursts from behind your teeth in a soft shriek as the silicone head stretches your flexing walls around it.

Cool beads of sweat coat your skin in a faint sheen, trickling salt onto your already tightly sealed eyes with the growing heat.

Your free hand tugs at the pulsing tips of your breasts as you’re lost in the blooming tickles of your arousal, and the coupled sensations mesh into something far more tantalizing than you ever could’ve imagined.

“My body is yours”, you whimper devotedly for ears that may not be listening.

Your hips delve into the bed to brace for impact as your sex succumbs to the continued pokes against it. A flare of pressure shoots through your cunt to spurt a clear, shimmering fluid onto the towel below you as the final flitters of your orgasm rip and tear into the surrounding nerves of your overstimulated pussy.

As the tingling subsides, you press a cloth to your damp cheeks and forehead before gathering yourself for the next step.

5) Insert the final toy, turn it on the lowest setting, then wait for me.

The insertable vibrator clicks to life inside you with the strength to turn your insides into a blended mess, despite being at the lowest intensity. That familiar aching and yearning for Nemuri sweeps through your chest and sinks there with the weight of stone.

But, you’ll wait for her as long as it takes.

You’ve come to realize that your aspirations prior to serving her were void of fulfillment.

She’s saved you from a life of hollow endeavors, but you were too stubborn to accept it at first.

You offer yourself now as a plea for forgiveness of your earlier transgressions, a passionate act of submission to make her adore you more than she already does.

So, yes you’ll continue to wait for her, even if it means an eternity.

my block list has over 200 people in it for the pure fact I can not have someone who likes 2 or more of the same characters as me

No more fluff. No more head cannons. I am TIRED of it. Take them titties out

That Which She Alters

18+ CONTENT AHEAD MDNI

✦pairing: Shapeshifter!Mirko x gn!reader

✦warnings: no quirks au, background Fuyumi x reader, uncanny valley, identity crisis, brain-washing, dubcon, angst, cheating (done by reader), memory gaps, possession?, kissing, oral sex (f.receiving) aphrodisiacs

✦word count: 3.4k

Keep reading

RAAA RUFF AWEF ARF AWFF BARK BARK EAAAAANRJAJAKKKM

Don’t Sleep on Me

18+ CONTENT AHEAD MINORS DNI

❀pairing: Yandere!Nemuri Kayama x afab!reader

❀warnings: slight canon divergence (Midnight as the U.A. traitor), dub con towards the end, oral sex, slight edging, slight begging, fingering, unhealthy relationship dynamics, manipulative behavior

❀word count: 5k

❀ summary: You run a fan page for Midnight and meet her by chance one day, though upon meeting her you realize that she may be hiding something.

❀a/n: The way Horikoshi did her character had me thinking that there had to be more to her, so that was the inspo

Anonymous says

i’m not sure if you made a post on this a while back but do you think she's a good teacher? idk the way she acts around the students is hella weird ngl

--------------------------------------------------

I've already addressed her teaching in the past, but I'd like to discuss more about her personality briefly since I get questions about it often. I've always interpreted her “flirtatious” comments as her being passionate about the youth and their potential. I think she's taken phrases such as “turned on” and others that are mostly used in a sexual context, and made them into statements that express enthusiasm. Her whole thing has been about destigmatizing nudity and sexuality, and we can see this earlier in her career when she advocated for more revealing hero costumes and such. She normalizes nudity of the female body in a non-sexual context, therefore eliminating the objectification of women.

So, I just can't see her pursuing any of the students romantically tbh but her passion is part of what makes her a good educator.

(tldr: Midnight is a feminist baddie and I'm tired of pretending she isn't)

Your finger hovers over the post button hesitantly as you build up air in your lungs before releasing it in a frustrated huff. It takes a few more re-reads for you to gain confidence in your reply, but when you do, you tap the send button briefly before slouching back on your couch in relief.

You watch the flight-like animation flood your screen, with anticipation. It'll only take a moment before you're flooded with thousands of notifications and potential supportive feedback.

It's always been difficult to run a fan page, especially with a following as large as your own. For the past year, you've been known as one of Midnight’s biggest fans, with over 30k followers, your blog has managed to capture the attention of a few news stations and even Midnight herself.

Your eyes still light up whenever you look over your past DMs and other interactions with her. After all, it's quite the accomplishment to be in direct contact with a pro hero, even if you've never met her in person.

While the thought has always been tempting, you find anonymity to be more comfortable as it allows you to post without fear of judgment; fearing what she may think of you, especially if you don’t meet the expectations she may have had in mind.

You look over your reply one last time before grabbing something to eat. And after shuffling through the many cabinets, you eventually settle for something mildly edible and pace back to your living room.

You lounge in a lackadaisical haze, browsing through your TV and its endless infomercials and weather channels—a monotonous cycle of pressing, and stopping on programs that seem slightly enjoyable.

Though, it takes one particular broadcast to garner your interest as you suddenly perk up upon hearing it:

Heroes have just located the hideout of the Paranormal Liberation Front, and civilians will be expected to evacuate later this—

The rest of the news coverage is left unheard, as you panic, thoughts spiraling toward worst case scenarios and what-ifs.

You ponder the future of Shizuoka Prefecture and its security as more is revealed about Shigaraki along with the nature of his ability, but most of all, you think of Midnight, and the potential danger she faces in the upcoming attack.

Civilians only know so much about the events in Hosu and Kamino, and this uncertainty is the biggest fuel of your paranoia.

With your increasing heart rate, you're quick to notice the incessant pounding of blood rushing to your ears, an unsettling soundtrack to your every thought—your fingers jerk with each nervous chill that strikes your numbed palms, and jittering legs.

You're aware it's odd to feel this way about someone you've never met, let alone had a phone call with. Yet, you can't avoid the overwhelming anxiety instilling within you based on the announcement.

It's about time to stop your wandering mind, you think, until you're faced with the thought of Midnight never knowing your true identity.

She'd always talked about putting a face to the one who's helped her strengthen her confidence in her beliefs. And while Midnight has been a major influence to you, she's also spoken of the ways you've impacted her career and values over the years.

It’s a shame that it isn't until she has more important matters to handle that you realize how much you're willing to grant her “wish” before it's too late.

In a fraught attempt, you draft one last message before the heroes finally depart, thinking it's better to take the chance than to regret doing nothing at all.

Hey,

I know this is out of the blue and my timing is the worst, but I need to get this off my chest. You may not even see this, yet I can't live with the thought of you never knowing who I truly am. It's what you would've wanted and I wanted to let you know how much you mean to me again.

Each word is swift to flow to your typing fingertips, as if you've been dwelling on the proper time for its release.

You go on to reveal your name before attaching an image of yourself at the bottom.

Every re-read, spell check, and skim will never be enough to please you in the end so, you leave your message with an impulsive press of the send button, quickly swiping out of the chat to make a brief follower update afterward.

I'll be taking a break from my usual posts until the PLF situation subsides. I'll only be posting more updates on it for now.

Posted.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

With each passing day, coverage on the incident becomes scarce while your interest in it only continues to grow.

Majority of your time is spent clicking away at vague articles and interviews with (even more clueless) officials. You've kept your promise of maintaining updates despite the increasing lack of information. Luckily, you live just outside the evacuated area so it's not like you've got the worst of it.

It’s been over 5 days since you've sent Midnight a message, but your hesitance keeps you from viewing the status of it; mostly checking the influx of notifications in your inbox regarding your posts from earlier. The majority of them are likes and occasional comments from your active followers, though you did receive another anonymous question a few days ago.

--------------------------------------------------

Anonymous says

does midnight's passion for youth and chivalry only extend toward heroes or does it also apply to everyone else (whether they're villains, civilians, etc.)

--------------------------------------------------

That's an interesting question. You're honestly better off asking her the question yourself. We've never seen an instance, but I can assume that ahsjekk fnfjfk f

Your hands flusteredly jam at the keyboard because of your clouded thoughts. You make another attempt to answer the question, hovering over words and highlighting as if expecting they'll reveal it to you somehow.

Your typing is fragmented as you piece together each incohesive thought as they come upon you—but suddenly—a few light taps on your front door break your concentration, despite the late hour.

You pace toward the knob with reluctance before opening it, and you’re met with an unexpected visitor.

Midnight stands before you with sunken shoulders, holding the door frame firmly to keep herself upright. Her tattered costume exposes the many slashes across her abdomen and limbs while her collar hangs on only by the sweat of her neck.

“I’m sorry we had to meet like this”, she states breathily before falling into your arms.

“Are you alright?” You're quick to pull her inside before shutting the door behind her. She shifts against you as you delicately place her on the edge of your sofa.

Her arms remain loosely at her sides with limpness from fatigue, slowly, she reclines her head against the backing of the cushion in search of support.

Despite her heavy inhales, she looked as if she were a discarded ragdoll; with her legs bent awkwardly and wisps of her hair surrounding her face in a careless manner.

“How did you get here? What's going—“, you question with urgency.

She raises her hand slightly to stop you.

“Sorry. I'm sure you have a lot of questions, and I'll get to them eventually, but I just really need a bath. Is that okay?”

“Oh…Right. It’s fine”, you reach for her arm to wrap it around you before hauling her up. “Let me take you there.”

Midnight maintains her balance along the way, regardless of her wobbling start, she steps with most of her weight against you, trudging forward with her left and with a delay from her right.

Upon reaching it, you guide her inside and wait for her to adjust herself on the edge of the bathtub.

You help peel the remains of her outfit from her skin, awkwardly shifting your eyes around to avoid staring at her exposed body.

“I-I’ll run the water for you, Midnight,” you say quietly with a trembling hand, reaching past her and toward the faucet.

She giggles a little at that. “Nemuri’s fine. It’s not like we’re strangers or anything.” Her hands softly stroke your arm to calm you. “You don’t have to be so nervous around me, y'know.”

Your widened eyes are quick to meet her gentle gaze, and your jitters ease a bit.

“I’m glad to finally meet you in person”, she continues, yet her strokes never stop; a trail of tingles begin to accompany the movement of her palm as you soften into her touch. “In fact, you're just as beautiful as I expected you to be.”

“Oh—you don’t mean that”, you reply as you shake your head bashfully.

“No, I’m serious. You looked quite youthful and vibrant in the picture you sent me, but to see you up close…” Her voice trails off as her stare lingers on you, studying the intricate details of your pursed lips and wrinkled eyebrows—only the sound of running water surrounds you while she views you silently.

“I-I really didn’t expect you to get my message earlier—or to even come visit”, you finally say to break the silence. “Now that I think about it, how were you able to find me? I mean, I’m flattered you came of course, but I never told you where I was.”

For a moment, she only raises her brows and darts her eyes away.

“The info you gave me was enough to locate you. That and the help of—of a few quirks”, she says eventually.

“Oh—I never thought you’d do all that just to come see someone like me.”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’ve been such a huge motivator for me. I get so excited whenever you update your blog. It feels nice to be understood, especially by someone as appreciative as you.”

She glances at you once more only to be met with your look of confusion and doubt.

“I see. You really don't get it do you?”, her tone is sullen upon seeing you, she swiftly closes the distance by placing her lips against yours.

When she pulls away, a warm hue begins to adorn her features before branching outward, in pink smudges.

“Will this be enough to show you how much you mean to me?”, she whispers.

You give a small nod as you press against her once more with increased passion in your lips.

Her fingers cup the back of your head to bring you closer to her dire lips; your tongue swipes across her mouth, brushing against her teeth and lower lips hungrily.

It's only until the water rises above your knees that your attention is taken away from her. You immediately twist the knob to stop its flow, yet Nemuri chuckles at the ordeal.

“Got a little carried away there”, she says as her lips are still upturned.

“Yeah, seems so”, you reply, returning her smile. “Do you need me to assist you or?”

“I appreciate it, but I’ve got it from here. It’s just a bit of fatigue, it’ll go away once I cool down.”

“I see. The spare towels should be in this cabinet over here.” You point below the sink. “I’ll leave an outfit for you on the bed.”

“Thanks again for everything you've done so far. I'm sorry about the trouble by the way.”

“No need to thank me. I'm one of your biggest supporters after all.”

“You’re right, but you’re definitely my favorite one as well”, she winks.

The rising warmth beneath your skin from her words manifests into a small smile before you turn to leave.

Once you’ve reached your bedroom, you lie under the covers to await her return.

It is only a moment before Nemuri is dressed and climbing in the sheets beside you, which rustle at the pry of her fingers while the bed shifts slightly to accommodate her.

Despite the dimness of the room, you’re able to make out the details of her eyes and lips as you face toward her.

“Can I ask you something?”, she says within the quietness.

“Yes, what is it?”, you reply with your voice on the verge of a whisper.

“Do you think bonds formed among those deemed as bad people are just as valuable as any other?”

You pause before answering. “Is this related to PLF?”

“Sort of…It’s a long story”

“Oh. Well, to answer your question, I don’t see why they wouldn’t be. I don’t think morality has anything to do with the strength of a relationship—as long as theirs align with each other's. Their bonds can be just as strong as other people’s.”

“See, I knew you’d understand.” Nemuri sighs softly. “I just wish everyone thought the same way.”

“Will you ever tell me what happened?”

“Eventually”, she says with opposition, seemingly hiding something. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’d rather not ruin the moment right now.”

The scent of your soap drifts through the air as her hips slide closer to shorten the gap between you.

“Can we finish where we left off from earlier?”, her lips lingering near yours with patient breaths tickling your upper lip.

And when you nod, they crash against you, her teeth tugging yours slightly and nibbling the corners.

The pressure of her kisses push you onto your back prior to her resting on top of you, she eventually pulls away so that her legs straddle the sides of your head.

You realize she only wears one of your shirts as she hovers over you with her exposed cunt scintillating with her arousal.

Her pointed nails swipe across your lips for wanted entry.

“Be good and open up for me, will you?”

She lowers her sex to your lips and your tongue explores her folds and opening, lightly flicking upwards to her protruding clit; with each stripe, she arches into your mouth, grinding while her thighs squeeze you tighter.

The rhythm of her hips is almost in tune with your licks, and as some of your strokes hit certain angles, her rocking begins to mimic tremors, shaking with each unexpected zap of sharpened pleasure.

Her flowing purple strands do little to hide the contortions of her rosy cheeks while her head droops in ecstasy.

“Mm. Just like that”, she hums. The sheets bundle into her palms as her grip on them strengthens. “You’re doing so well for me."

You increase the speed of your licks and her juices trickle down the side of your mouth, her muffled moans only spur you on as she finally climaxes from the swirling of your tongue on her bud.

She removes herself from your mouth before laying beside you, her upper body making its way toward your lower half.

“I think it’s about time I return the favor”, her voice fans over the top of your lips.

As her teeth taste the skin just above your throbbing area, you wriggle in anticipation until she grasps at the meat of your thighs, causing arches to indent deep into your flesh—a sting that’s strong yet dull enough to border on pleasureful.

“Stop teasing already”, you whine into the pillow beside you, yet she inches further away from where you want her.

“I believe I’m the one in control here”, she says between nibbles and you shuffle with impatience.

When she finally relents, a puddle of your sweat and slick stain the covers beneath you. The pulse in your pussy is too difficult to ignore as your blood thumps heavily against the sides of your desperate walls.

Nemuri trails her tongue across your clit and you jolt due to the buildup of her touches from earlier, her tongue and lips unwavering as it attacks the erected organ with repeated swipes.

Your jaw clenches while your toes burrow into the mattress.

“F-fuck”, you whimper into your arm to muffle your sounds.

It doesn't take long for the peak of your orgasm to wash over you in intense waves, and your skin flushes with heat as your hips rise into her mouth.

She uses her tongue to lightly prod at your opening; your slickened walls allow it to glide in easily, along with her saliva, as her mouth continues to water from the taste of you. Her fingertips are used to replace her mouth as she circles the nub with inconsistency, pace slowing as you start to approach yet increasing as you begin to taper off.

The oversensitivity soon consumes you as well as the occasional brushes of her teeth against your lips when she smiles at your looks of frustration.

“Nemuri—please”, you murmur as a result of her edging.

“I like it when you say my name like that”, she hums whilst still slurping.“Why don't you say it some more and I'll think about it.”

As you struggle to make out the words in your blissful haze, you attempt to do as she asks of you.

“Nemuri. Nemuri”, you utter with exasperation, your voice cut off by another uncontrollable whimper.

“NEM—”, you begin again before your mentions of her name become nothing more than incomprehensible jabber.

She uses the pad of her thumb to bring you towards your peak, her pace quickens with each thrust that signals how close you are to approaching.

Her tongue is pushed out your pussy as your walls tighten in ecstasy, making a mess of her lips and chin with your juices dribbling along her porcelain skin.

Once you’ve come down, she places one last kiss against your sex and one against your upper lips. Her arms then connect around your body to bring you closer, you rest your head against her chest.

She mumbles something into the top of your head that you're unable to hear.

“What was that?”, you ask while looking up at her.

“It's nothing”, she whispers. “Good night.”

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Something came up, I’ll be back soon.

You repeatedly scan over the words left on the note that was placed on your kitchen table.

The franticness of Nemuri's scribbling was apparent as some lines were whipped and curved in an incomprehensible way.

Your eyes remain on the note as you try to think of her potential whereabouts, and while the effort is fruitless, you hope to find more clues in news stations and articles.

You briefly whip out your phone to search through results that might relate to her, to your surprise, the most recent header was posted three hours ago;

Only Midnight’s signature mask remains as the pro hero goes missing amidst battle.

Another flurry of questions invade your thoughts; Why didn’t she tell you what was going on? Why did she disappear? Why did she come to your place?

Throughout the day, you're left unfocused, unable to make updates to your blog despite how pressing the matter may be.

This welding uncertainty can only be aided by Nemuri’s return, and when she does, you make a dash toward the door before greeting her with your anxious chattering.

“You need to tell me what’s going on”, you command, leaving Nemuri to barely enter the room before hearing you. “You can’t just come here whenever you feel like it! Do you know how worried I was?” You continue to pry while you follow her and her rushed strides toward the living room.

“You’re right, I’m sorry for concerning you. I’ll tell you everything that’s happening”, she eventually replies. Her knees bend slightly as she lowers her body onto the sofa. “You’ve seen the news haven’t you?” She follows.

You nod before taking a seat beside her. “What happens if they find out you’re here with me?”

Her sapphire irises never leave your stare, taking in the intensity of your distressed visage. “They won’t. Most of them think I’m dead anyways, I doubt they’ll come looking for me.”

“I’m still confused. Why did you choose to run away?”

“Before I go on, can I trust that you won’t think any less of me?”, she attempts to hide the shakiness of her words, eyes widening in anticipation of your answer.

“Yes, of course. Go on.”

At that, her shoulders slump in relief as the strain of her expressions start to fall from her cheeks and forehead.

“The truth is I’ve been communicating with the League for a while now”, she says yet she looks away this time.

“For how long?”

“Ever since I’ve learned of Toga’s involvement, so not long after they attacked the summer training camp at U.A.”

She briefly looks up at you before her eyes flicker away once more. “I won’t go into detail but I kept up with her whereabouts for a while before she eventually caught onto me. That’s when I approached her, yet she wasn’t hostile, in fact, she was willing to hear me out.”

“And what made you so willing to approach her in the first place.”

You start to question Nemuri's motives at first, but you're quick to push the doubts away, certain that she would never be a traitor of any kind.

“Her youth”, Nemuri states. “I sensed an underlying potential in her, a desire to be accepted or maybe change for the better. It was then that I realized that she embodies qualities that I often sought in my students; the passion of adolescence and compassion for the rest of her group. The only thing that makes her different is the fact that she’s passionate about something society sees as immoral and inhumane.”

“It’s funny.” You begin. "l remember receiving an anonymous question relating to this just the other day.” “It wouldn’t be you...would it?”

“You’ve got me”, she reveals with a weak, yet unconvincing chuckle. “Back then I was unsure if you’d accept the way I felt about these things, even though it seems like you know me best. But you always have, haven’t you?”

At least, that’s what you thought…

“I understand where you’re coming from, but I can’t see what you hope to gain from this. Do you really expect her to change?”

“I don’t know yet, but I think that even if she doesn’t, she has every right to be free with her passions.” Her eyes seem to expect your approval, with her eyebrows turned downward as if to plead. “I’m dissatisfied with myself to the point where I look for the youthful traits I, myself want, in others because I feel like I no longer have them. Maybe that’s why I chose to disappear. If I truly believe in youth and expression I wouldn’t help a system that limits it, no matter how evil it may seem.”

It’d be pointless to deny your rising feelings of betrayal and dismay upon discovering the true nature of her actions.

“So, you’ve decided to leave it all behind?”

She isn’t the true hero you idolized, but a hedonist as she finds pleasure in viewing youth she once lost— too caught up in exploring the potential of others from afar rather than helping them use it to adjust to being within the system. The system doesn’t limit it, it only ensures you use to your potential for things that are helpful.

“You’re not the hero I thought you were”, you reply as you look seemingly through her.

“What—Wait I thought I thought you’d get it”, she fumbles over her words, reaching for your hand to place it on her own. “Aren’t you my biggest fan? What about the blog? The things you’ve said about me? Were they all just lies?” Yet, you snatch it away.

“No, everything I said about you was intended to be true. I guess I didn’t really know who you were.”

“I-I don’t get it.”

“Look, I have no interest in talking about this any more right now. I’m disappointed. I’m confused. I just—I need you to leave by tomorrow or at least stay away from me for a bit.”

You rise from your seat before making your way to your bedroom.

“You’re free to stay on the couch tonight but I need to take a break from it all”, your voice growing distant with each step you take.

You're so caught in getting away that you don't notice the glistening pink clouds wafting through the air beside you.

And you never do until it’s too late.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Your weighted eyelids flutter with each attempt you make to fight against your drowsiness. Even with your vision being no more than a slit you're still able to recognize the walls of your very own room, except, it wasn't anything but a cheap imitation as there was a new one-sided window that didn't belong.

Your wrists dangle in crimson handcuffs with a matching chain that extends to the wall behind your bedpost; your body remains upright, sitting with your knees folded beneath you.

As your vision follows the path connected to them, the clicking of a door knob interrupts your focus to reveal a concerned Midnight.

“Where the fuck am I?” you immediately spit with a tone of venom. “This isn't my room, what is this?”

“Shhh...calm down. I'll explain everything in a moment”, she states calmly while stepping forward. “Here take this, it'll be alright.” A glass of water is tightly held to your bottom lip.

“No—get the fuck away from me!” The bed shakes with your irritable thrashes as you try to get away, spilling the glass across your chest and lap before it inevitably falls to the floor and shatters. “I don't need your help!”

Nemuri remains beside you with a pained expression.

It almost hurt to see her like that after idolizing her so long, especially, since you've grown to develop romantic feelings for her after your night together.

Memories of the taste of her lips and the weight of her body pressed against you return, even as she holds you prisoner. You try to shake them off as she now stands before as a woman you hardly know about anymore.

“I'm sorry, things had to be this way but I'm sure you'll comprehend it.” Her focus remains on the surface beneath you, careful of avoiding your stare. The tips of her fingers are held together tightly along with her bruised lips. “I don't think you meant the things you said earlier, you were just overwhelmed and it's my fault. I shouldn't have said everything at once...it was too much for you to take in.”

She gains the courage to look up at you again, and it's hard to fight the thought that she was gorgeous, with her violet locks shaping the corners of her perfectly sharpened face.

“I love you”, she continues before cupping your cheek. “And I'm certain you love me too.”

You let her palm continue to rest on your face, a part of you still craving her gentle touch, and as she leans in closer to kiss you, you don't pull away nor return it.

“Can't you pretend to be the woman I imagined you to be?”, you question softly when she pulls away.

“No”, she shakes her head and smiles a little. “I'll get you to realize eventually, I can't lose the only person who understands me.” Her eyes darken a bit. “The real me.”

Her mouth returns once more with increased fervor while her body pushes your back towards the bed, and at first, you merely let her do as she pleases with you, neutral to her affections, expressions unwavering.

Yet as her touches begin to trail downward; rough gropes of your breasts and gently placed suckles across the base of your neck, you start to reciprocate it.

Thoughts of her disappointing you soon left your disheartened mind, only focusing on the feel of her hands as they wander across you.

With each action you take in response to her own, she’s led to believe you've come to accept her more and more.

Yet, not even you know if it's true.

Her hands slowly find the apex of your sex, which she diligently strokes with calculated spirals.

The feeling of her fingers steadily fades to the background as a tingling dwells in its place.

While your head still fights the guilt of giving in to her touch, your body surrenders with its final arch toward the source of the pleasure that builds within you.

“Cum for me”, she murmurs in your ear as her fingers are unrelenting.

And you do, your walls throbbing and clamping at emptiness, while your brain also suffers the same fate; overcome with a sense of temporary “clarity”.

Her arms surround you to pull you closer.

Her head lies against your shoulder.

“Accept me.” She speaks quietly. “Please?”

Any trace of your resistance disappears.