A/N:
I proofread with a migraine at 4am 🤣 please forgive me if my English bundle depleted at some point
~ Yiyi
//
He keeps me clothed, fed, clean and caged. Like a pet mouse, I fume to myself during his absence.
I still have no idea where I am and he's not very forthcoming about his plans for me.
I woke to him pressed so tightly against me that I could feel every hard ridge of his body.
Every. Last. One.
I don't dwell on the fact that one in particular makes me squeeze my thighs together, trying to stop the unconscious way my body hurts to be filled by him again. Nope. Will not think about the burned man's crispy cock.
He bursts into the room, interrupting my train of thought and throws a pile of leather at me. "Get dressed, we're going out."
"Where to?" Why was he letting me leave now? "Where are you taking me?"
If he planned on killing me, I'm not going to go easily, no Sir. I'd be putting up a damn fight.
"You have two choices," he says, walking towards me, "you can get dressed or I can help you. Which is it going to be?"
His mocking laughter follows me as I race into the tiny ensuite and slam the door behind me.
Bloody villains.
When I'm dressed, he blindfolds me and leads me carefully down a flight of stairs. The smell of the outside world assaults me before he stuffs me into a car, his fingers grazing my breasts as he straps the seatbelt in place. I'd take that as a sign that my execution had been stayed.
"No funny shit," he warns, slamming the door. "You make a good body pillow baby, but I'll leave you a pile of ashes on the roadside if you fuck this up."
My mind races as he drives for what feels like forever while I'm trapped in the oppressive blackness of the blindfold. Where the fuck was he taking me?
"You're going to be a good girl and obey me. I wouldn't bring you out unless there was no other choice."
"No other choice for what?" I ask and flinch as he brings the car to an abrupt stop. "What are you going to do with me?"
"It's not what I'm going to do to you, it's what you're going to do for me."
His fingers tug the dark cloth from my eyes and I blink against the glare until his face swims into focus.
I'd done nothing but look at him and still, the sight of him steals my breath.
"What exactly am I expected to do for you?" I ask as he leads me around the back of a building, the alleyway giving me unwelcome flashbacks of the night my life had fallen to shit.
"Have you lost your mind?" I hiss at him, furious at his suggestion. "No, absolutely not. Not now, not ever, will I amplify your quirk."
"I wasn't asking, little mouse. You're going to do what you're told or I will take you back, bend you over my knee and spank you until you're unable to sit."
Fuck.
"You're going to do this, Y/N. I'm not fucking asking."
It was one thing to be playing Home Sweet Stockholm Syndrome with him, but something else entirely to participate in his penchant for burning things.
My moral compass was already a little skewed being attracted to him, this would bend it completely, break it.
"I can't do it," I tell him softly and peek past him into the warehouse below, full of armed men, "You're asking me to..." I swallow the words, unable to say them aloud. He was going to turn me into a mass murderer in one afternoon.
"It's us or them, little mouse. You either help or we all die."
All? What kind of shit show had he dragged me into?
"I'm never going to forgive you for this," I press my hands to his chest and feel my quirk activate. The lives of the many versus the lives of the few... The bright blue flair of his cremation is the last thing I see before I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and bury my face against his chest.
[Dabi's POV:]
It's been hours since I pulled her out of the burning warehouse and carried her catatonic ass back to the car.
She refuses to talk. She refused to eat, staring down at her food like it held the answers to her current existential crisis.
Her eyes are completely dead when she does look at me, the fight sucked right out of her in the space of an afternoon.
If I don't get through to her, she's going to die of starvation. She's stubborn enough to maintain a hunger strike.
