❝ I wanna go home. please let me go home. ❞
[y/n] didn't ask to be launched into a whole new universe where quirks defined your future instead of chakra and heroes took place instead of shinobi.
especially not after the fourth shinobi war.
male rea...
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⌜ ⌝
trauma - chapter nine
⌞ ⌟
The cold night air flowed into [y/n]'s room, surrounding the male as he tossed and turned on his bed.
His expression was one full of pain, his face twisting as cold sweat dripped down his face and body. Nails scratched at his skin harshly, red lines appearing on his neck as some even drew blood.
"P-please stop." His voice came out weak and tired, almost to the point where it sounded like he was straining it.
He could see nothing, but he felt the cold and heavy metal chains that weighed his arms and legs down, making him unable to move at all.
There was a slight tension in the air, the type that'll make your skin crawl and have your senses scream at you to run away. But he couldn't. It was so familiar, so suffocating to the point where he couldn't even react physically.
Tap.
A shiver ran down his body.
Tap. tap.
'Please stop.'
Tap. tap. tap. tap. tap.
It never stopped.
The soft pads of very familiar fingers slowly ran down his body, a disgusting feeling overcoming him as the fingers slowly became a whole hand. It caressed him in places he wished no one would touch, trying to seem endearing but instead came off as weird and disgusting.
"Shh~ Who would've thought the Wistful Conquerer would submit so easily~"
The voice held no good intentions, his words leaking out of his mouth like venom. It traveled all around him, near his ears, below his waist, in front of him. He felt the hot breath fan on his face, the warmth making [y/n] just feel even more disgusted.
"Such a caring sensei~ Too bad they're all dead."
'Stop- don't touch me-'
"Because of you."
'No!'
[y/n]'s eyes snapped open as he sprung up from the bed, sweat drenching his sheets as his body shook with terror. His hands snaked up to his hand, grabbing it as he pulled it down. His screams echoing throughout the house, as well as outside.
He was so lost in his thoughts that he failed to notice his quirks going haywire around him, destroying his room without a doubt. The wind cut up the curtains and anything it could, the water changing into a solid as it lodges itself into the wall in dangerous spikes, the fire burning pieces of fabric that hung on the wall, and the electricity that flowed through the air, causing [y/n]'s hair to float up slightly.
