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

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

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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

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.

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…”

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.

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.”

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.”

How was your Valentine’s Day??🙈

It was fine, but you made it infinitely better 😪

Was it your birthday recently?

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