why am i so in love with fear?

Little busy-bee tiptoeing about in her worn-out skirt.

She’ll be that one soft thing he actually likes between flowers and other annoying yapping bratty princesses always pining for his attention. But she’s not exactly soft either, walking about the massive palace day in and day out, chore after chore, in those uncomfortable shoes that soles are nearly worn through, ugly ragged skirt allowing him to see her pretty petite ankles and those smooth calves when she bends over like she’s made for it, on her knees like it’s her rightful place, scrubbing the floors, struggling to reach the top shelves when  dusting, when reaching to pull the blinds from the massive windows she has in her care to keep clean and not smitten with soot from the fires he’ll so often start. 

She’ll be skittering about like a little mouse, gathering dirty laundry from his room once he’s out hunting, placing them neatly inside his closet again, careful to leave him his supper when he’s been called away by his mother the Queen, like she’s feeding some monster she cannot be caught alone with and not her future King. 

He’d heard she were the only one brave enough to actually enter his room, but if one asks him, he knows she actually just picked the short straw, seeing how she leaps around the corner once she see him coming, silly little thing thinking he can't hear her breathing like she’s being hunted. 

She’s cute though.

He knows it’s cruel to burden her with even more strain, but... she’s his servant, and what type of future King would he be if he didn't take what was rightfully his?

She looks too adorable standing against the cold stone wall, clutching onto the basket of dirty laundry until her dainty knuckles turn ashen, head bowed beneath Lord Bakugo’s searing red gaze as he towers above her delicate petite frame like a mighty dragon cornering prey. Heat radiating from him like a furnace as he leans in as close as he can with the basket separating the two of them, his large paw of a hand, clawed with talons, large enough to crack her skull open, raised to rub sandpaper fingertips against her jaw, caressing her little face and tilting her head up and up and up to meet his royal-red eyes.

“You’re not suited for this job.” He voiced, tone gruff as he thumbed her chin, his ash-blonde mane falling forward, casting a shadow over his eyes. “Tiny things like you shouldn't do labor work.” He added, tilting his head to the side as his eyes trailed up and down her smooth delicate features, lips cracking open to flash that crazed battle-grin, canines and all, the one that can swallow the sun and breath fire. “You’re much better off tied to my bed.”

He was never one for romance, but it would seem she isn't much of a lady by any means either, the way she kicked her heels into his abdomen once he hoisted her up over his shoulder, her tiny useless fists banging on his back like it would do anything but tickle him as he steadied her with one greedy paw placed on her ass, feeling up the plushie flesh like kneading dough, carrying her away to her new job of keeping him satisfied.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

All For One’s heir was a rare sight. She wasn't sure she’d ever even seen him before once she was assigned the role, being the Prince’s new chambermaid. All she knew, by the looks on all the other girls forlorn pitiful faces, was that she’d fallen prey to an unfortunate fate.

She’d heard things, whispers on scared faces, gossip about the cruel spoiled prince and his lack of charm both in the verbal and physical form. She’d heard he was born silent, drained and colorless sept for the blood-red in his eyes. She’d heard his hair was silver like starlit spiderwebs and his skin was in the same state of the moon, cratered and dusted. She’d heard his smile was as ruthless and bloodthirsty and crazed like that of a jackal, with a laugh just as deranged. That even death feared his touch.

The stories was enough to have her shivering outside his door, enough to have her breath hitch in her throat once she nudged the handle to have the door creek open, enough to have her knees weak as she stumbled inside the darkness of his room.

“You’re prettier than the last.” A rusty voice spoke from an unknown source, lost in the darkness of the large bedchamber. “Guess they learned.” It spoke again. “Good for them...” She heard something thud against the floor, whipping around to try spot any trace in the swallowing void, completely overcome by shadows once the door slid to a full close. “Though... they shouldn't have bothered with the nice dress. I don't care what you wear, it’s only gonna end up another thing for them to mop from the floor.”

Something emerged from the corner of the room, tall and lean and slender, like a shadow himself until the crack in the curtain cast a strip of light onto his face, eyes even bloodier than what she’d imagined, enough to have her spellbound to her spot on the floor.

“They didn't tell you why you’re here, did they?” He asked, quietly chuckling at her scared awkward stance on his floor, by his bed, completely unaware.

Adorable.

“Good, I like my prey clueless.” She stiffened as his hand ascended, long pale slender-knuckled fingers reaching towards her face, boney and dry as his fingertips scraped along her cheek. “Fed to the wolves weren't you, pretty?” He whispered, eyes looking down to her breasts, licking his lips in salute to how they glowed with healthy warmth like gold, before looking up to her face again, coarse finger dragging across her bottom lip. “Guess that's the price you pay for a face like this.” Chipped nails dug into the plush of her cheeks as he held her face still, his nose taking a large whiff as he nuzzled into her neck. “Mmh, you even smell good.” He moaned. “Pretty thing like you probably tastes good too.” He groaned. “If you want to keep your dress you should strip now, I’m not the most patient person.”

Her breath caught in her throat as he pulled his hand back, standing there, mere inches apart from her, so very tall. “S-strip?” She stuttered, eyes blinking as she looked up at him, no crown on his head, though still looking every ounce worth of superior where no amount of silly gold could hold up to the dominance in his eyes.

She started pulling the strings to her bosom, undoing the laces while keeping eye-contact with the man. “Smart move, pretty.” He praised, looking at how she hurriedly ripped off the intricate layers, trying her very best to not upset him, happy with what he saw. “Now...” He started, taking in her amazing nude frame with a bite to his lip. “Get on your knees like an obedient well-behaved lawful servant.” She whimpered as she lowered herself, looking wide-eyed up at him. “That's a good slave.” She put her knees to the floor, and rested her ass on her heels, her dress pooled around her, as she stared up at the silhouette cast by the moon’s cold blue glow, breath shuddering as he swiped his thumb over her trembling bottom lip, eyes locked with each other. “Open up.” She did what she was told effortlessly, too scared into place to dare even think about refusing, letting her jaw drop, mouth open to receive his thumb pushing down on her tongue. “Fuck... so pretty.” He moaned. “You’ll definitely be my new favorite, I’ll be extra careful not to dust you.” She shuddered, tasting the salt of his thumb, her mouth watering at the same rate her eyes did.

Shigaraki licked his teeth as he grinned, eyes wild and erratic, cock straining against his pants, warm and heavy, throbbing at the sight of the perfect little naked offering on her knees at his feet.

“Come on, pretty, help your Master out of his robes.” He took her hands and pulled her up, where she quickly got to work on unbuttoning his pants, tits bouncing, nipples hard from the nippy air in his room. “You like taking orders, don't you, pretty thing?” She gave him an adorable nod, lashes fluttering at him meekly, big doe-eyes searching for further direction as if scared to move on her own. “You sure know you're place.” He smirked. “I like that.” His hand made an effort to keep his pinky raised, encircling her tiny wrist like a cuff, guiding her to the bed. “Come here.” Plopping down on the bed, he pulled her snug between his thighs, rubbing circles into the fine skin of her hips, tugging her up on his lap with a groan rumbling in his chest, eyes lush and lustful. “Look at this face...” His hand circled her neck this time. “Mmh, fuck, pretty, pretty, pretty.” He kissed her collarbone, giving it a slight bite, making her gasp and jolt a little bit on his lap, teasing the large long beast sitting between the two of them. “Soft too.” He added, kissing up her neck where his hand was holding her steady. “Mmh, you’re gonna be good for me, right?” He moaned. “I would hate to let my hand slip and fuck up your pretty little body.” He warned, adding slight pressure on her throat, his other hand snaking around to the small of her back, pulling her closer, still with the little thing whimpering so sweetly. “That won't happen if you just listen and obey, like a proper good fuck-slave.” She gave a moan once he bit the special soft spot on her neck, her hands instantly jumping to grip his shoulders, melting into his mouth and the throne of his lap. “Nod your head for me, pretty girl.” She moaned in response, tipping her head while leaning into the long-haired prince she’d been sacrificed to. “You want me to fuck you, don't you slave?”

Her eyes slid closed. “Mh, yes.”

“Yes?” He asked, holding her face between his palms, foreheads kissing, looking deep into her eyes as she kneeled on his lap like she was praying.

“Yes, please, M-Master.” She affirmed as her lips ghosted over his.

“Mmh, fuck, you’ve got manners too.” His eyes dazed, heavy-lidded, yet remaining strong, keeping her locked as he drew her in for a kiss. “Keep this up and we’ll get along nicely.”

TODOROKI SHOTO

Not many princes are good-hearted. Where most are spoiled rotten, others are consumed by their power. Prince Shoto is neither, he’s simply strictly lethal. And people in the castle did their best to avoid his steely attention.

Todoroki’s presence leaves the halls feeling chilly, goosebumps climbing up her legs where her skirt hangs in filthy tethers at the ends as she skips rather hurriedly though the corridors, fabric dragging across the stone tiles, scathing on the coarse flooring. She was an unlucky one, one not protected by the safety of working in the kitchens were one can go their entire employment without ever facing the royal family. Poor maid needed to trot along the battlefield of the palace, turning corners, ears on alert, listening to whatever approaching footsteps could be on a path her way.

But, today she had no time for caution, for she had already tested her luck enough as she was running rather dangerously late. She was supposed to be at Fuyumi’s chambers first thing in the morning, bright and shining, helping and guide the seamstresses in fitting the Princess’s dress for tonights event. And she would have been there if she hadn't been up yesterday picking crystal-roses from the garden for Fuyumis broach, where she’d haplessly caught a nasty cold that now had her nose red and stuffed and eyes watering, and even less fortunately bedridden.

She sneezed as she rushed down the hallway, head ducking, hands flying to cover up her nose as she stopped in her hurried pursuit, finding as she continued her strut, that her split-second break from being on watch had already managed to lead her into a world of trouble. Her short stature, elbows first, landing her in a chest of some unknown tall figure.

Focusing her blurry vision, she looked up to see dual-colored hair and eyes belonging to both the King and the Queen, one ice-cold and the other hard as rocks.

“I’m so- so sorry, my Prince.” She blurted out quickly, bowing her head to avoid staring at the unsightly scar covering the towering boy’s left eye. She swallowed thickly, nearly in tears already, knowing that the crown-prince was rather one that liked toying with the castle’s staff on days he hadn't the patience to read books and study, where he never practiced his sword-skills unless he had satisfactory targets.

His hand reached forward and her heart froze over, like a hand of death had taken ahold of it and her lungs seemed to seize, throat closing, making her dizzy at the feel of his grip on her chin, so dreadfully cold it had her teeth shattering.

“No, no, don't cry, it’s quite alright. Accidents happen after all.” His voice was as smooth and soft as it was steely, and it brought her no consolation as she was forced to look into his sharp unforgiving eyes. “Your name?” He demanded and she thought that the whimper which escaped her throat might just be the last sound she’d ever make before she withered like a flower in a blizzard.

“My name?” She couldn't hold back the tear that slipped down her cheek, gasping as the Prince caught it on his index-finger before it could drip down onto the floors.

She watched him take it to his lips, half-way surprised to see his tongue wasn't split through the middle as he licked the little droplet off his slender pale finger. “Yes, slave, your name.”

“T-Tundra, my Prince” She lied, thinking if she left the hallway still with her life that perhaps if he went looking he’d be searching for the wrong person.

The corner of his lips twitched slightly at her answer, forming a rather crooked eerie sort of smile. “Is that right?” He snickered, eyes never leaving hers, having her locked in place, un-allowed to look away. “Fitting you should bare a name such as that and still fall prey to measly little colds.” He stated.

“Irony is a watchful hound, your Highness.” She wanted to look down, anywhere but his searing gaze, thinking he might just turn her into ice only to thaw her into a mushy human being again, have her melt into an unfortunate pulp on the awful brimstone of the castle floors.

“That, she is.” He agreed, tilting his head to the side and looking at her as though he was observing, like he was looking for a flaw in her composure outside the obvious fear that scented the air. “You’re my sister’s handmaid aren't you?” Her blood ran white hot before dropping to a numbing freeze. “You should be with her, fitting her for her dress to this evening’s ball, shouldn't you? Tundra?”

He knows.

He knows she’s lying to him.

He knows who she is.

“I do look forward to seeing you by my sister’s side, you always look so... precious... up there on the podium. Perhaps you’ll agree to a dance?” He asked though demanded, and she swore her corset was cracking her ribs with how little it allowed her to breathe.

“I’d be honored, my Prince.” She felt like she could rake her skin off, drag it clean of the bone, like she was crumbling like some pastry in front of the young heir.

“Do make sure my sister looks stunning, she does love looking her best. And while you’re at it, throw together something for yourself.” He added, his eyes finally leaving hers to trail down her sorry dress. “I will rather have you go naked than in something as tragic as those robes.”

She couldn't say or do much more than nod, trying her best to keep her lip from quivering so violently. “Yes, my Prince.”

“Well...” He reached out his hand and she could feel the cold air flow like a winter’s breeze, nipping at her skin as he presented his palm to her, awaiting her smaller delicate hand to be offered. “I won't keep you any longer.” She did as she knew she had to, laying her breakable, frostbite-prone hand inside the comfort of Todoroki’s pretty porcelain paw, rings of power around his fingers sure to bite her skin with blisters, making her whimper so unfortunately loudly as she watched him press his freezing lips to her knuckles, the chill running through her veins and causing her head to still. “Run along now, wouldn't want you to fall behind on your chores. Such slacking requires punishment and I would just hate to have to whip you into shape, Tundra.”

Then I must say a street Keigo fits in here too, perhaps taken in by the Todoroki’s, being Dabi’s best mate... 

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA x  TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

The wayward son, falling short of meeting the expectations of his father the King, who always favored the youngest brother. In all rights as the firstborn, Touya was supposed to be King, but Enji respects strength above tradition and Shoto was assigned inheritance of the throne. And one can get a fair guess who the Dark Prince is going to take it all out on. 

Poor maid, just doing her job, though cruel fate always putting her in places she shouldn't be, at moments poorly timed, trapping her in inescapable dangerous situations. And perhaps she’d be able to avoid the Prince’s ice-blue steely gaze if it weren't for the other guy always being on her tail like a fucking Hawk. But, he knows better than anyone that nothing burns like the cold does, and he’ll do about anything to have that attention averted to someone else rather him, and she looks like their favorite type of distraction, one they can both enjoy.

“Lookie here, Touya.” His voice drawled in thrill, whistling a sharp chirp, trailing behind the busy maid as she hurried through the hallways to reach the kitchens, hoping they’d give her a break just this once.

“Well if it isn't our favorite toy.”

But it would seem Todoroki was in a mood, and by the sound of his voice and no doubt his words, he was looking for some relief. 

“Oh, sweetie, we’ve had such a boring day.” The prince’s pet slung his arm around her shoulders, playful golden eyes looking at her with a smirk twitching at the corner of his lips. “Mind helping us out?” 

She shook her head, cringing under the boy’s heavy brazen touches and how his breath blew hot against her neck. “My apologies, my lords, you must excuse me, I have chores that need me.” She blurted in the most respectful manner she knew how, trying to scurry off, but their legs were longer and therefor carried them faster than hers could ever hope to outrun, not to mention the weight of her skirt laid thick with cloth, dragging her already tired limbs down.

“Are you saying chores are of higher importance than your Prince?” Keigo quipped, tightening his embrace just a little which made the girl stumble up into his arms, hands bracing against his chest as she looked up at him.

“No!” She shook her head, correcting herself as she dragged her weight off of the ward’s chest. “Of course not, lord Takami.” He couldn't describe just how much he loved seeing her squirm like that, trying hard to save herself.

“We’ve gone over this, pretty...” He cooed, stroking a finger down her cheek before grabbing her chin gently, Touya smirking on the side, watching Keigo play with their prey. “Call me Keigo.”

“I’m sure you can leave your pesky duties for some other time.” Todoroki spoke, stalking closer to where Takami was keeping her still, spinning her around in his arms and locking her tight to his chest, her ass pressed firmly into his crotch as she was made to look up at Touya’s predatory approach, jarring facial features adorned with that gentle sinister smirk he always had plastered on his face.

“Right now, we require your full attention.” Takami whispered in her ear as she squirmed in his hug, trying to shake off his strong arms that were snaked around her waist.

“Better yet, how about I relieve you of all other duties.” Todoroki’s voice scathed like nails being dragged against a board. “That way, you serve us full-time.”

She couldn't help but whimper a little at the thought as the tall dark-haired Prince took calm and steady steps towards her until he was almost budding heads with Keigo who stood behind. “That’s very generous of you, but-” She tried.

“It’s settled then.” Todoroki stopped her with a finger to her mouth, tracing her trembling lips.

Keigo snickered behind her, his chest rumbling against her back. “Come on, we’ll escort you to your new home.” 

“Uhm-” She tried again to wiggle free from Keigo’s grip, but he wouldn't allow her to budge, not while Touya still was looking her up and down like a meal.

“Don't disobey us now.” Todoroki warned, to which Takami tightened his grip around her, holding her steady.

“Trust me, you don't want to anger your Prince, he doesn't play nice once you upset him.” The boy behind her spoke as though from experience, his voice breathy and strangely excited.

“Don’t scare her, Keigo.” The prince gave his dog a stern look, and she could feel something poking into her behind, Keigo’s ragged breaths hitting her neck.

“A little fear never hurt.” Takami whispered, breath unruly, his hand detaching from holding down her hip, raising it to grab ahold of her jaw, fingertips digging into the chubs of her cheeks. “Besides... just take a look at that face.” 

“You’re right, Keigo.” Todoroki tilted his head to the side, icy eyes looking at her scared little face, seemingly radiating with frost, chilling her very bones as she shivered in Takami’s embrace, which was ironic given she’d seen him burn entire crowds to mere charcoaled mangled mockeries of the human form, where not to mention the cruel singe-brands she spotted running along the forearms that held her steady. “I’m already forgetting whatever it was that upset me.”

Keigo gave another sinister chuckle, as he placed a soft teasing kiss to her collar, one that had her heart getting stuck in her throat. “That’s what I’m here for, your Highness.”

He’d make you wear only short slutty skirts and tight tops without any underwear beneath, seemingly purely to make fun of you – calling you a trashy cheap whore. He’d also make you put on lipstick and mascara for much of the same reason – only to smudge the red across your cheek and laugh when seeing the black rub off around your eyes, running down your face with tears.

He'd only feed you leftovers from his plate after he was finished – if there was any left. If not, you went without. He’s got to keep you on a diet, he’d say, but if you’re really that hungry, you could suck the nut out of his balls if you ask nicely.

You stopped hesitating sooner than he thought. Started doing everything he asked just like a real pet. Too overwhelmed by just how cruel he could be, you didn’t have it in you to be any sort of cruel in return.

“Tch- aren’t you ashamed?” He asked once, leaning his head on his hand, tilted while watching you and your round eyes look up at him, kneeling on the floor by his feet with your face dipping into the cup of his hand, eating out of it like a dog.

You’d only looked at him with cinched brows and asked, “Ashamed of what?” as though it wasn’t obvious, as though what you were doing had become natural to you.

He doesn’t really know when it all stopped making sense… when he started looking at you differently.

But… sometimes he’ll feel this urge to kiss you. Though he never does. Suppressing the thought, he’ll instead spit on or slap your face instead – quashing it before allowing the feeling to take root.

But it’s getting harder and harder…

You’re just this soft little thing that warms his bed at night – snuggling all preciously into his side with dulcet moans and snores. Making his chest feel all types of flighty and all types of heavy at the same time, looking at you with furrowed brows – trying to will himself into hating you.

But you do everything so gently. Not a single mean bone in your body. 

Of course, he knows half of it is due to your fear of him, but… he can't help but notice how you’ve started doing things for him that you don’t need to. From how you hand him coffee to how you message his muscles – kissing him softly, small hands stroking him gently, your voice speaking to him only in sweetly careful words. 

All you ever do is comfort him and hope he’ll comfort you in return. And seeing you flinch at his harsh words, how you cower beneath him and beg his forgiveness, doesn’t ease the turmoil in his chest anymore.

You make him feel bad now with the way you pout – how you cast your eyes down when they begin to brim with tears – picking at your nails until the beds bleed. It all tugs at his heart in gross pains, leaving his head heavy.

Calling you terribly ugly names and seeing you nod your head in agreeance just doesn’t seem right. And seeing you flinch gives him chills that don’t feel good at all anymore.

Even sex doesn’t make him feel good anymore.

The way you tremble when spreading your legs – sucking your teeth in pain – your whole face grimacing as you try hard not to cry at the rip when he splits you apart and fucks you selfishly, chasing his own peak at your expense. Seeing the way you ball the sheets in tight fists, gripping it for purchase while stifling your whimpers – praying for it all to be over so you can curl in on yourself and find refuge in your sleep. 

While it used to give him a sense of accomplishment to see you lie there, hiding your face in the pillow with braced shoulders and his handprint freshly branding your ass – now it just leaves him feeling some type of empty.

Your crying gives him migraines. He’ll bark at you to shut up and it’s awful how you try your best to oblige him, saying, Yes, Katsuki- I’m sorry, Katsuki – using his name like a fucking bullet. 

He’ll choke you to make you stop. 

One time, a little while ago, he choked you so bad you only had but a few last weak breaths left – almost dying – with his hands around your throat and his cock inside you. But he’d let go in the last second. 

You hadn’t been able to speak for a couple of weeks. And anytime you tried, it made his ears grate. He tried forcing himself to believe the regret he felt was for not going through with it, but he knew that wasn’t true, so he started avoiding you.

“Oh no- Katsuki-” You rushed over when he came home, eyes wide and already about to cry seeing him decked head to toe in bloody gashes from a particularly nasty fight he’d had on patrol. “Are you okay? That looks bad- are you hurt?”

Your voice is still a little fucked, and so is the bruising around your throat – and still, you’re here – asking him if he’s okay with that awfully biting look of concern painted all over your face.

Immediately his chest feels tight and he shuts his eyes to try and hide from it. But you’re still voicing your worries, doting on him like he’s some fucking child and you his fucking mom. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” He bit out, first in a growling whisper but then in a shout. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

You shrunk away. Surprised at first but then ashamed shortly after. Bowing your head with toes turned in on each other. “I’m sorry, Katsuki. I- I was just thinking-”

“That’s the fucking problem, you dunce!” He cut you off. His hands holding his head like he was afraid it would crack soon. “Bitches don’t think- I've told you this a million times, but you never fucking listen!”

“I’m sorry-” You repeated, trying to take another step back but not before his hand flew out and grabbed you by your collar, thrusting you against the nearest wall – holding you up on your tippy-toes with his face scowling down at you.

“Get it through your fucking skull! I don’t want a fucking housewife-” He spat, making you flinch at every word like it was a lash from a whip. “Stop trying to be anything but the worthless piece of meat that you are.”

You shut your eyes under his roaring, nodding your head in a panic. “You’re right, Katsuki- I’m sorry-” You winced, whole body trembling against the cold marble at your back – crying now, that awful way you do to make his chest tear, and he nearly decided to put his fist through your ribs to keep it from happening. “I promise I’ll learn this time. I won't disappoint you again.” You continued through the tears, trying to stifle them with a bite to your lip, and he wondered if maybe he should make you wear a bag over your head to keep him seeing your face.

But instead, he let go. Letting your drop along the wall into a little shaken heap.

He didn’t understand why his eyes were stinging, he just knew he needed to keep you from seeing it. So he walked away…

You became quiet after that.  

And he’d never felt more awful.

When he wakes up now, you’re on the opposite side of the bed, curled in on yourself. You don’t come to him. You don’t say sweet-nothings or ask him about work. You don’t say anything at all, only when he asks.

You don’t do anything at all unless he asks.

All day, you just sit and stare into nothing like you’re a puppet waiting for your strings to be pulled. You don’t eat, and when he makes you, he can hear how it all comes up again when you’re in the bathroom. He hears you crying in there as well…

Sometimes he’ll catch his own eyes leaking – just when doing simple things – thinking about you in every waking moment, having nightmares about it those times he dares shut his eyes. The loneliness hits like cold nails being hammered into his heart and it’s so unbearable he dulls it by getting his knuckles broken in some poor B-list villain's face.

He’s having issues with eating as well. Only forcing down the bare minimum. He hasn’t slept in days. And when the agency forces him into taking a break – they justify it by saying he hasn’t been thinking straight lately.

And he supposes they’re right. 

When he’s home alone with you, he can’t grasp how long the days are. Slow quiet hours that make him feel like tearing his hair out – but you’re just sitting there. So still and so quiet, if he could pretend you weren’t there, it would have been easy.

But it’s not easy.

“What are you doing?” He broke the silence. 

You turn your head slowly – supposedly having just then noticed he was standing there. Blinking softly up at him – taking your time before answering as though you’d forgotten how to speak for a moment. “Nothing. Do you… want me to do something?”

He shakes his head lightly, then asks what he’d actually been wondering, “Why are you sitting there?”

You look confused by the question, visibly mulling it over in your head with eyes blinking as if sitting there was the only natural place for you to be.

“You’re allowed on the couch.” He said then, in hopes it would clarify the question.

Your eyes widen at that. And then you do something so wrong as smile at him. “That’s really kind of you, Katsuki. But no thank you. I’m happy here.”

He swallows thickly. “Why?”

You blink again, then give your lip a bite. “It’s the last place you touched me…” 

His nose scrunches at the reveal – and he feels a little sick after.

“You don’t touch me anymore…” You continue – eyes getting glossy as you look down at your feet while picking your nails like you so often do. “I know I made you angry… I’m really sorry…” You sniffle, then look up at him – bleary-faced and gut-churning. “Is there- is there anything I can do to make you forgive me? I’d do anything… please, Katsuki-”

He can only stare. It all makes him so uncomfortable he feels stiff – nailed to the spot. But then he remembers the plate of food in his hand.

He clears his throat. “Eat.” Lowering himself while handing it out to you.

You look confused again – now teary-cheeked with bloated lips looking extra pouty. “But I haven't-” You argue, but he cuts you off.

“Just eat.”

Still, despite the encouragement, you resist. Shaking your head. “No, thank you- I don’t deserve it.”

It makes him grimace, the sigh. “God-fucking-damn it-” He’s already here, trying his fucking best, and you’re making it so fucking difficult. “I’m ordering you to eat, so fucking eat!” He barks, and in the heat of the rage, he lifts the plate and throws it down, smashing it on the floor between you.

You jump. “I’m sorry, Katsuki-” Then you bend forward, on your hands and knees in the glass, bowing down to eat like he’d said.

“No! Fuck-” He stops you, getting down on his knees as well – the broken plate and wasted food underneath him. “Don’t- don’t eat that.” He says, grabbing your wrist from picking at the scraps.

Fresh tears run down your face again as you look up at him – lips blubbery. “But-”

“Listen to me.” He stopped you – voice sincere – his breaths heavy as he hung his head forward, needing to look away from your face – glaring down into your lap instead while he composed himself. 

Soft silk rimmed with pretty lace – a babydoll just long enough to cover that place between your thighs but not long enough to hide the scars from his many bite marks and the times when his slaps had split the fine skin.

The sight makes him shudder now. 

He swallowed thickly again, feeling heavy – so heavy he had to drop his weight against you, resting his head in your lap with his arms held around your tiny waist. Feeling the glass crunch beneath him.

But he didn’t care. He deserved it.

“Let’s forget about it.” He mumbled. 

And muffled into your stomach, you don’t hear the teary sound of it.

You just tilt your head, looking down at him burying himself against your bosom where he kneels on the floor in front of you. It’s an unfamiliar and confusing sight and makes you feel a little anxious. You want to put your hand in his hair and pet him, you want to ask him if everything’s alright – but you know you shouldn’t – it’s not allowed – it’s not your place.

“Forget what?” You asked instead – a little hesitantly in hopes he wouldn't punish you for not knowing.

“The whole thing…” He answered – his tone getting even quieter against you. “The rules, the…” He mumbled further but stopped himself with a heavy breath. 

You wait expectantly when he pushes himself up again. On his knees in the chips and shards, he holds you by the hips and bears an expression you’ve never seen before.

“You’re not a bitch, a’right?”

You heard him clearly now, but still… what he was saying didn’t make any sense. 

You nearly ask him to repeat it, but you bite your tongue. Shifting from looking into one of his eyes to the other before bowing your head as though you weren’t allowed to look at him for too long.

“I’m not?” You warbled unsurely. Hunching your shoulders as if the idea of it made you feel vulnerable.

He waits, trying to assess what you were thinking, what you were feeling – a little taken aback when he spots a new tear slip down your nose and drop into a dark stain on the silk below you.

“But… if I'm not a bitch…” You sniffled, looking up at him again. “Wh- what am I then? Nothing at all?”

Your eyes are full of something so vividly hopeless – so heartbreaking it breaches his chest like a stabbing.

“No-” He argued, but you’re spiraling.

“Don’t you want me anymore?” You sobbed, now with tears rushing fat down your face once again, though this time, even more fiercely – eyes lost in a swirling blur, unable to focus on anything other than how fast your heart was hammering from the free-falling panic consuming you.

“No, no- look at me-” He grabbed your face, both hands trembling when holding your cheeks, feeling the warmth soak his fingers. “I want you.”

It’s the first time in a very long time he’s looked at you up close. 

Pale moons dent the plush of your cheeks in those places he’d dug his fingertips too harshly. A print of teeth also rings your chin along other scars he can’t explain in any way other than that he’s fucking evil. Because otherwise, your face is flawless. So pretty his heart churns in his chest when he loses himself looking at it.

“Do you promise?” You ask him – words but a prayer, so desperate it rattles him.

“Yes-” He answers breathlessly.

Relief washes through you then – because suddenly, you giggle. Beaming from eyes to lips stretched over a wide smile. 

“Oh- Katsuki, thank you! Thank you-” You gush, pouncing from your sullen place against the wall to sling your arms around his neck, making him fall back on his palms – his face warped by shock and something that’s both a little terrified and pained and guilty for how terribly deteriorated you’ve become because of him. “Does that mean you’ll start touching me again?” You ask while nuzzling against his neck and it’s like another knife being twisted in his gut. “I feel so useless when you don’t…”

Even further crestfallen, he peels a sweaty palm up from the floor and places it lightly onto the small of your back – slow to begin rubbing circles there while his mind spins to formulate an answer.

“I’ll touch you…” He eventually says. A little disgusted with himself that it’s the only thing he’s able to comfort you with. 

But feeling your body relax with bliss in return, he repeats it. 

“I’ll touch you.”

What the lens doesn’t catch is the eight-inch dildo stretching you out with vibrations violent enough you feel the thrums all the way up in your throat, causing enough slick to gush out to make it seem like you’re wetting yourself. 

 The diaper he’s fixed around your bottom does its job well, soaking it all up—bulky cotton with a pink heart print adorning it.

“Or maybe you’ve made a mess in your dipey, hm? Need Daddy to change it for you?”

You hate him, you hate him, you hate him, and you swear, as soon as he slips up, you’re going to kill him in the most excruciating way possible.

You whimper out a whine as he pulls you to him by your haunches.

Soft pink rope is looped twice in an infinity sign around your upper thigh and ankle, then once again around your lower thigh and leg—keeping the balls of your feet permanently planted into your butt. And successfully making kicking utterly impossible as he rips open the tape and peels the sticky front sheet down—exposing the twitching mess to the cool air.

The toy stuffed inside is instantly pushed out by your own muscles, squeezing for dear life and aching for a break, but he only tuts, “No, no, no—” while giving it a gentle push back inside. “Daddy still needs to prep you for playtime, or else I’ll rip your poor little body in two, you know?”

He presses two fingers on the base of the dildo, keeping it from sliding out while pulling the worn diaper out from underneath you.

He’s ambidextrous with it. Expertly splaying out a fresh nappy and fixing it in place like the former one, all the while keeping you stuffed air-tight with the other hand.

“There we go—good as new.”

Both your arms are locked around your back, folded along with your hands, leaving you to aimlessly roll around with nothing to grab or anchor yourself as you curl in on yourself once again, equal parts embarrassment and frustration, but mostly because the thing inside you is sending you over yet another edge, making your whole body quake.

“Good baby, show Daddy how you like to dance.” He never stops recording, only switching from focusing on your face to your hardened nipples to the way your feet stretch and curl up in panic.

A gang of teddy bears is witnesses to your descent into catatonia, watching with beady black eyes as your body ricochets with ripples of sharp pleasure—coming undone a whole of ten excruciating times before he finally deems you ready for the real thing.

“You ready, sweetheart? Ready to have Daddy inside you?” he croons, tapping the hard spine of his cock on your fluttering coin-sized hole, giving sound to sticky plaps before aiming his head into the opening. 

A pillow beneath your lower back keeps you perfectly inclined while he pushes your thighs down against your chest, driving his length through your already brutalized hole, inflicting little thrills for every nerve he passes, zipping along your limbs throughout your entire body.

“Mmh, my baby loves playing with Daddy, don’t you, baby?” he purrs, bottoming out deep, all the way to the base—letting it rest there while watching you cope with the added size—bigger than the toy from before that you’d gotten so used to.

And after all the horrible stimuli, the stretch alone is enough to make you cum at once.

"Yeah, you love being Daddy’s little cock-puppet."

He smiles, watching as it takes you. Kneading his cockhead into the perfect place inside you and humming as it adds to your peak—pushing you over the edge into that state of mind where you hardly even know up from down.

Yeah... that's when he starts pounding.

Groaning out filth as he goes, “Let’s have fun all the way until bedtime, baby. Daddy’ll pump your belly so full of butterflies you'll have nothing but sweet dreams all night long.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Enji, Natsuo, Mirio ♡ JJK – Toji, Nanami ♡ HQ – Daichi, Iwaizumi, Atsumu ♡ BLLK – Isagi, Aiku ♡ AOT – Erwin, Zeke

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

It had been a while since you’d gotten this upset. Usually, you’d just play along—to a degree that was far from giving it your all, but still. You don’t know exactly what warranted a bigger reaction this time.

Possibly, it was the idea of it all that had you so shook.

The dress reminded you of the world outside and with it, the understanding of how utterly far removed from it you were and had been now for a very long time.

It was a really pretty dress, too—you’d have used any excuse to wear it, called your friends up, made plans on the spot to go out for no other reason than to paint the town red while looking drop-dead gorgeous.

It would bring tears to your eyes if you weren’t so angry, fuming where you’re standing, wanting to stab him to death, yet having settled for killing the dress instead, as it was a more likely target. 

“Oh?” is all he says without looking a smidgen worth of upset. “That’s too bad…”

He shakes his head, looking at the dress on the floor while holding his maw, pointer finger tapping on his chin.

“I was planning on taking you out in that.” He sucks his teeth casually, as if what he’d just said was any such thing as trivial, then sighs just as blithely. “Damn shame…”

A rush runs through you at the same time. Feeling a stab of regret fester in your chest before confusion’s able to overlap it, mingling with each other into this gross feeling of distress and disorientation—as if reality had just blended with a dream. 

You stare at him, head spinning, on edge, voice bitter as you take what you're sure's likely just bait, “What are you talking about?”

He doesn’t pay you the same regard, almost dismissing the entire conversation with a wave of his hand. “Oh, you know, what with it being our one-year anniversary and all…”

You continue to stare at him—knowing full well how utterly insane he is, though, not sure if this is one of those types of crazy where he forgets to lock away the knives, or if it’s the other type of crazy where he knows exactly what to say to make you feel just as mad as him.

“Why? Did you forget?” he continues, cocking a brow at you.

He is dressed nicely, you note. Not a full suit but something like it—a neat pair of trousers, a clean polo shirt, polished dress shoes…

Was he really planning on taking you outside?

“Well, it doesn’t really matter now…” he clicks his tongue, looking back at the ruined dress on the floor. “You don’t have anything to wear anymore–”

“No—I–” you interject before you’re able to think about how desperate you sound. “I have other dresses–I can–”

“No, don’t bother,” he cuts you off coldly, a hand held up to silence you. “It’s ruined now. We’ll try again next year.”

You swallow thickly at that, repeating it in your head—next year. It echoes back as a question—next year? But… but it’s so long until then. Too long.

“No! I’m sorry,” you blurt out, rushing over to him, hands splayed flat on his chest as you plead, looking up at him now with pathetic eyes and an even worse off voice, “Please, I–I wanna celebrate–I do–”

His head veers up, mouth pulling to the side as he cocks his head, looking at the ceiling while giving it a hum in thought, “Mh… m’ not really in the mood anymore.”

You heart rifts, “But–”

“I spent a lot of time picking out that dress for you, you know?” he cuts you off, looking down his nose at you. “Thought about how good it would look on you and everything.” 

He eyes your face like that, with this awfully jaded expression on his own, clicking his tongue, “It’s all a waste now, isn’t it?”

You shake your head, brows knitted. “N-no-I—I can still wear it.”

You rip yourself away from him while pulling off the shapeless shirt you were wearing, nearly naked now as you all but throw yourself onto the floor after the dress you’d tossed the same way.

“Just wait–”

You tussle it up into your arms before scrambling up to your feet again, hurried as you wrestle with it, pulling it up over your hips, then shoulders—a gash on the front of it marking where you’d cut it open.

“See? It’s not so bad,” you insist despite the obvious. “I can fix it—I just need to sew it and–”

You stop mid-ramble as he abruptly walks away, falling silent while you watch him bend down to the floor where the scissors had slipped to when you’d first thrown the dress at him.

He picks them up slowly, eyeing them for a moment, then walks back to you—unreadable expression on his face as he appraises the damage done to the dress with his free hand, running over the crude cut made on your stomach.

"You really think you could fix it?" He asks coolly while his digits climb higher, leaving the fabric in favor of tenderly thumbing your chin as he drinks in those big, hopeful eyes of yours as you nod your head all earnestly.

"Yeah?"

His fingertips slide across your cheek, tenderly yet oddly aloof in the action as he picks up a tress of your hair to play with.

He coils it around his pointer before bringing his other hand up and snipping the lock clean off.

Your ears draw back at the sharp sound, feeling the wisps brush your naked arm as they silently fall to the floor. You look down to see them lying there—not just a few strands, but a big and unforgiving chunk.

“D’you think you could fix that too?” comes a voice—brisk like the sound of the scissors.

You just blink, lips parted in stale shock.

“Well?” he asks then, quickly making another crude snip—this time even more—before the loss of the first has even finished dawning on you.

But you sober up with the sudden hand bundled in with the rest of your hair, fierce in his grip, nearly ripping it out from the roots, tangled at your nape and pulling you back, making you back curve and neck crane as a loud cry breaks free from your throat, “What’re you–why?”

“Why?” he jeers, then seethes, spitting through clenched teeth, “Why?” The scissors make another messy cut. “You shit on my gift, and you’re asking me why?”

Another chop and you’re thrown back down to the floor. You feel the hair beneath your hands where you brace yourself. Then the feeling of the scissors at your throat, stabbing into your chin as he uses them to lift your head up.

“You're fucking delusional if you think I'm taking a spoiled little brat out on a date when she doesn’t deserve it.”

The heavy tears running down your cheeks are nothing to him, as your hair falls in odd short lengths around your ears, burning with feelings you have no idea where to place. 

“Especially when you look like a fucking mess.”

He turns away after that. Dress shoes tapping on the floor in a business-esque fashion, taking him to the closet by the outer door, from which he grabs and throws on a coat-jacket, before just as callously leaving you altogether with a loud slam and a following lock.

It's silent after that as you catch up on your own breath.

It takes about an hour or so, at which point and for reasons unknown—as though afraid he’d be back so soon—you gather the hair from the floor and throw it away, along with the dress.

Then you shower and go to bed.

Several hours later, night falls, and yet, you’re still awake, hearing the tell-tale noise of him coming back. The pattern of his actions tells you it's after having had a few.

He kicks off his shoes but doesn’t bother undressing as he stumbles in through the bedroom door, throwing himself on top of the covers down next to where you lie. The strong scent of alcohol mixes in with his cologne and an underlying musk as he huddles in close, spooning you with his bigger body as a drape.

His nose runs along the crown of your head, lips on the crest, speaking against it in slurred mumbles, “I’m sorry I messed your hair up… I was just angry with you, you know—I try so hard to make you love me, and sometimes it feels like you just wanna fight me on every single little thing. You just—you drive me fucking crazy—but I still fucking love you, don't I?”

He kisses the top of your head a dozen times, messily, like in a frenzy, while squeezing you tight, before calming back down with a happy sigh.

“You know… I was thinking, you’d look good with short hair if we even it out a bit. We can watch a few videos and figure it out tomorrow, hm—what do you think? Wouldn't that be fun?”

Your bottom lip quivers, and you bite into it to make it stop. Only muttering back a soft, “Okay…”

He hums at that, keeping your head tucked under his chin as he shimmies to find the perfect position, making the entire bed shift beneath his weight. He sighs once again when finding it, this time through a big yawn, “I think it’ll be cute.”

Your lip is probably going to bruise come morning. You don’t even know if you’ll be able to sleep. 

“And you know, even if it isn’t, it’ll probably have grown out before our next anniversary anyway.”

♡ BNHA – Hawks, Touya, Shinso, Monoma ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Kamo ♡ HQ – Kuro, Lev, Oikawa, Atsumu ♡ BLLK – Reo ♡ WB – Suo