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perplexedflower · 2 years

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Overhaul Headcanons

Fandom: My Hero Academia.

Category: F/M.

Relationship: Kai Chisaki/Overhaul x Female Reader.

Type: Headcanon collection.

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Attention

Overhaul has his very own definition of affection when it comes to romantic relationships. One type of attention you very rarely get from him is a physical display of attention while in public, or more generally speaking when you two are not alone, meaning even one single person present with the both of you will be enough to restrain him from touching you. He's not - and has never been - a social man, and especially doesn't like to show his emotions to others, so even if accompanied by you, he doesn't budge and remains emotionally cold. However, when it comes to private moments, you are always assured to receive physical attention from him. It's never intense, but loving enough to melt your heart anyway. A caress on your cheek, a kiss left on your neck, a hand sliding over your thighs... All these are marks of affection he enjoys giving you when you two are alone. Most of the time, they happen in silence. He loves you through gentle gestures without a word, thinking his acts speak louder than anything he could say to you. And you're fine with it. You often find yourself craving these private moments together, since they usually don't happen until the end of the day or when he's not too busy, which doesn't happen often. Aside from the intimate physical gestures he gives you, he also shows you his love through verbal affection. His tone softens when he speaks to you, and he's developed a habit of complimenting you without filtering himself in the slightest. An example is when he walks up to you to tell you in the most spontaneous of ways how gorgeous he finds you today, leaving you a blushing mess, muttering a shy 'thank you'. These compliments always catch you by surprise, and always leave you wanting for more. Of course, with each compliment he gives you, you end up repaying the favor, complimenting him daily as well, but you always feel like they don't affect him as much as his affect you. But that's only because he doesn't show it.

Control

Overhaul was born to become a leader, and his Boss had always shaped him to turn out that way. He's at the head of the Shie Hassaikai clan, with dozens of men under his supervision, following his orders without double-thinking or ever questioning the choices he makes. It is clear that he embodies the image of a man in control, dictating everyone he considers to be below him. And he is no different outside of work, when it comes to his relationship with you. You two are a couple, you form a pair, who respects each other, but there is no denial that he is the one in control of your couple. It's not so much a matter of respect or trust, but rather the fact that he's always been used to being the one in control of his life, and just because he's dating you doesn't mean this will change. If anything, it makes him want to control his life and yours even more. He not only likes to be the master of his own sea, but also feels the need to protect you and shield you from certain outside things. It's nothing too restrictive or strict, but it still matters to him to trace at least a certain amount of boundaries. On top of his natural authority, you have noticed that as your relationship has grown since when you started dating him, he tends to sometimes be quite possessive of you now, since he never stops feeling more and more attached to you as time passes. He doesn't want to cage you up, but his desire to keep you safe and for himself leads him to tutor you often. Lastly, although it may not show often, he gets jealous easily regarding the things he loves, and you're no exception. Not wanting to show you that side of him is one of the reasons why he controls some of your movements.

Doubts

Undoubtedly, your relationship with Overhaul leads your mental health to somewhat deteriorate. Yes, you love him, but it doesn't stop you from suffering from breakdowns sometimes, wondering how you came to be so attached to him, and asking yourself endlessly if you made the right choice to follow him down his path. You look back on your couple and come to doubt some of your choices. You do your best not to have breakdowns in front of him, but know he's bound to occasionally walk in on you having one. The first time he surprised you in the middle of a breakdown, he asked you what was wrong, visibly worried. And when you gathered the courage to tell him what was troubling you, his expression changed. He told you he understood your feelings but added he couldn't empathize with them, since he's never truly had that conflict. Having lived in the Shie Hassaikai clan since his earliest years, he's never had another choice but to live like a Yakuza. Unlike you, who didn't grow up a villain. Despite your different backgrounds, he still validates you and accepts you in his life, and you're grateful for that. But, although he tells you he wants you to open up to him regarding your doubts, you can never bring yourself to do so.

Equality

He may be a Yakuza, and one hell of a bad man criminally-wise, but Overhaul still has principles. And one of them is that he respects women. Unlike what some people might think, he's not the type to disrespect you, his female partner, simply because you're a woman. He believes in full gender equality, whether it is in private or business matters. In fact, for Overhaul, what determines someone and the level of worth they hold as an individual is not the controversial features people usually bicker about (such as gender, skin color, or age), but their place in society and what they can do to change the latter for the better.

Fear

You love Overhaul, you've found this out for yourself throughout your relationship with him, with your feelings for him having only gotten stronger since you've started dating. You love him for all his flaws, all his qualities, his personality, everything that makes him, him. And yet, despite all the time you've spent with him, the one thing you're still not used to is how intimidating he comes off as. You've always felt a certain aura emanating from him, like a strong force, instinctively commanding respect upon anyone who comes across him. And this feeling is even stronger when you two are alone. Whether he does it unconsciously or not, his words often weigh a certain pressure, especially when addressed to you. Sometimes, you can't help but even feel scared of certain things he says or does. You're not blind to the things he does at "work", you know his motives and how he controls his minions. You've even once witnessed for yourself how he got rid of one of his men by killing him using his Quirk, making him explode, repainting the walls red. You quickly realized you weren't supposed to see that. You had walked in on the scene, and by the time he had noticed you were there, it was too late. He seemed panicked, his eyes wide open, keeping his distance from you. He quickly cleaned himself before approaching you, asking you if you were okay as he saw you were visibly shaken up. You knew deep down he was regretting his action, because now he was afraid you'd be too scared to be with him. After all, he's a murderer, and isn't afraid to be one to achieve anything he's aiming for. You know that. But you sucked it all in, told him you were fine, and neither of you talked of it again. Since then, he's made extra sure that an accident of the like never happens again, starting by making it clear to you that he loves you too much to ever hurt you in such a way.

Germaphobia

Habits: Overhaul is a germaphobe, everyone knows this, and you especially over all others. He doesn't consider himself a cleaning freak, and actually corrects people who call him that way. Yes, he wants things around him to be clean, to make sure he doesn't come in contact with anything that could affect his system, but that doesn't make him the type to sweep his home every day. He doesn't mind when things are slightly messy and tolerates a little dust, as long as it doesn't accumulate. His main issue with germs is when they come in direct contact with him, thus leading him to wear a mask and gloves constantly. Before he met you and started living with you, he washed his hands every hour, and never took his mask off around others, no matter the context. But over time, through conversation and guiding, you managed, not without difficulty, to progressively take his habits down one level. At first, it was hard for him, since it meant changing life-long habits, but with your help, he now washes his hands at acceptable amounts, and under certain circumstances even accepts to take off his mask in public.

Touch: Because of his germaphobia, it can sometimes get quite hard for you to live with Overhaul, but not for the reasons people might think. He can be strict when it comes to physical touch between the two of you, simply because he fears catching an infection or something of the like. In order to prevent that from happening, he asks you to always wash your hands properly before touching him, and the same goes for your mouth if you wish to kiss him. This can sometimes feel heavy on you, especially if you're a touchy-feely person who needs physical touch. But you can't blame him for it, that's the way he is. Besides, you know well that since you started dating him, his germaphobia went up a notch, because he now fears for the both of you. As much as he wants to keep germs away from himself, he also has someone else to protect from them.

Kitchen authority

Another result of Overhaul's germaphobia is his desire to always be the one to cook. It has nothing to do with trust, or doubting your abilities in the kitchen, but he prefers to be the one to cook. Although it may not show, he's a very skilled cook, due to many years of making his own food in the past. He makes excellent dishes for the both of you, with care and attention, and you make sure to thank him each time for it. Your culinary compliments may seem like they don't affect him, as they don't trigger many reactions in him, but deep down he feels the pride to know he made you happy with one of his dishes. If you ever come to implore him to let you cook for him for a change, it's likely he'll end up accepting, but rest assured he'll be monitoring you the whole way through and watching your every move to make sure you do everything perfectly.

Masks

Overhaul has developed a habit of wearing different masks according to what he's doing, such as his crow mask, which he wears for work, and his set of plain black masks, which he wears when he goes out on more casual occasions. One moment you still have engraved into your memory is the day he had awkwardly confessed to you he didn't know which mask to wear when he was alone with you. It had made you laugh, which further annoyed him, but you quickly reassured him that it didn't matter much to you. You told him that it was up to him, and after that day, he decided he would wear his plain masks around you, thinking it was admittedly more comfortable. Eventually, after dating you for long enough, he took a huge step forward and decided he would not wear a mask at all when he would be alone with you, which had earned him praises and congratulations from your part. In the earlier stages of your relationship, you had also tried taking a step in his direction by gifting him masks as a way to show him your support and that you accept him for his germaphobia, but he had to turn down your offer by telling you he preferred to buy his masks himself, to make sure of their composition. However, he had still thanked you for your original idea, and despite never having told you, he still feels grateful for it.

"Overhaul"

Overhaul has made it clear to everyone that he has long buried the name "Chisaki", and you are no exception. At the beginning of your relationship, he had told you not to use it when addressing him, and you didn't see any reason to oppose it. However, you can get tired of calling him "Overhaul", especially in private settings, so you sometimes allow yourself to call him "Over" in order to preserve the aspect of nicknames, which you find important in a relationship, or whenever you want to show him a softer side of yourself. At one point, you had talked it over with each other, and he had told you you could call him "Kai" if you really wanted to. But you keep that for only the most intimate of moments...

Pet names

Overhaul isn't necessarily attached to the notion of pet names within a couple, and is mostly content enough with calling you by your name. However, as your relationship progresses through time, a time eventually came when he asked you if you wanted to be called by certain nicknames, since he started feeling more comfortable around you. He made it clear that if you did want to be nicknamed, you would be the one to choose them. He wanted to make sure he would call you by names that would please you and make you feel loved. You told him he was free to choose for you, but he insisted it was up to you. You ended up telling him what your favored pet names were and he's never forgotten them since. Although he mainly sticks to your name, he calls you by those pet names every now and then, keeping them for when he's feeling personal or domestic around you.

Quirks

You know well that Quirks are a touchy subject to talk about with Overhaul, hence why you rarely do so. But, one thing you just couldn't avoid revealing and inevitably had to bring up with him when you two first met was your nature, whether you had a Quirk or not. In the case where you were born Quirkless, the first time you had told him about it had seemed to have somewhat appeased him. It was only some time later, after learning what his "job" is and what his ideals are that you understood why he was content with you being deprived of powers. Although it had sounded weird to you at first when he had told you he was glad you had no Quirk, you came to understand that he feels this way because he sees you as pure and "clean" for it. To him, it means you represent even more than ever someone that he needs to protect. In the case where you were born with a Quirk, you couldn't help but feel fear the first time he confronted you about it. You knew about his morals and dreaded he would reject you for having powers, finding you gross and unworthy of his love. But, to your surprise, he told you he didn't mind it that much, and accepted you for who you are nonetheless. Ever since you've been together, you've brought it up with him only once, and he made it clear he accepts your Quirk because he knows you're not using it to play hero. Getting with him in the first place meant following him on his trails and more or less agreeing with his ideas, and that's enough of a reason for him to accept you by his side. Besides, all ideals aside, you know he loves you enough to not let his morals dictate his feelings towards you, and that he loves you no matter what your powers are, or even if you've got none.

Sex

It had taken you by surprise when Overhaul had told you that if you wished to have sex with him, you had to be the one to ask him for it. He explained to you that he didn't see it as a priority in your couple, and that he preferred dedicating his time to other ways of loving you, and it'd lead him to never ask you for some time under the sheets. And indeed, he never has. Ever since you've been together, you've been the one making advances each time. But that doesn't mean he turns them down, or that he doesn't appreciate sex. He actually quite enjoys it, firstly because he knows it pleases you, but also because it allows him to spend quality time with you. His sex manners are of the most common type, consisting in the most basic of positions, and rarely including kinks. But rarely doesn't mean 'never'. Sometimes, he admits it, he uses the opportunity of having sex with you to finally externalize certain emotions he's bottled up and lash out at your body. During those kinds of nights, he's even more passionate, and rougher too. He holds you tighter, pressing his entire body against yours, and even drops sensual whispers into your ears. Even when giving you this kind of sex, he's still loving towards you, asking you every now and then if you're hurting anywhere or if he's being too rough. Deep down, you fight the desire to ask him to be even rougher, wondering what it would be like if he truly gave it his all. It's evidence for him to always wear a condom when having sex with you, since he hates the thought of you filled with "filthy fluids". But that doesn't stop the quality of his sex from being extremely good, saddening you when it comes to an end, making you wish for more. But you know what comes afterward is just as good. After you're both done, he takes you to the bathroom, and steps into the shower with you, to cleanse both your bodies and minds. Under the pouring hot water, he continues to caress you and whisper to your ears how much he loves you.

Work

You'd say there's nothing in this world Overhaul is more dedicated to than his work. But, ever since you got with him, he is just as passionate about your couple as he is about his work. It's safe to say these are the only two things in his life he views as important and worth his time. Devoting himself to both his work and your relationship, he made it clear from day one that he would love for you to work alongside him. You knew right from the start what his "job" consisted of, and you had chosen to accept it nonetheless. You were somewhat expecting him to impose on you the role of the "Boss' wife", forcing you to work with him, and that was a harder thing for you to process. But, in reality, he had asked you at the beginning of your relationship if you wished to work for his clan, accompanying him in his daily activities, or if you rather wanted to stay out of it, leading your own working life by yourself. You had been very grateful to see him considerate enough to leave you the choice, and still are to this day. The thought of working by his side had intrigued you, leaving your imagination picture how you'd be walking next to him throughout the halls of the clan's headquarters, a newfound feeling of empowerment emanating from you. But on the other hand, choosing a job in something unrelated to the clan seemed the most suitable option, since it would not only give you alone-time outside of home, but would also keep you clean from any of Overhaul's activities, therefore helping keep up appearances. Whether you've decided to work alongside him as the co-Boss of the clan, or work on your own, he loves you just as much, and respects whichever choice you made that day.

Yakuza principles

Overhaul has always perceived himself as a true Yakuza ever since he first joined the Shie Hassaikai, and has always given importance to making a distinction between Yakuza and villains. The main noticeable difference between the two is the code of honor that Yakuza clans impose upon themselves, to make order and organization rule within the group. And Overhaul's clan is obviously no exception. For a man such as him, who wishes to always have everything under control, it's essential he has all his men agree to a specific set of principles and rules. However, something you hadn't expected when you started dating him was to also be imposed these rules. He had told you explicitly that whether you desired to join him in his work or not, you'd still have to obey the rules of his clan. This meant not telling any exterior party about the clan's activity, whereabouts, and identities, in order to protect both the members and you. You had decided to comply with this rule, among the others he had presented to you. But, aside from the initial surprise it had created in you, it has never had any actual impact on your relationship. You go by his rules, in and outside of work, and it satisfies the both of you. After all, you know well he trusts you, otherwise, he would have never started dating you in the first place, and that always makes you happy to think about.

Zealousness

In your eyes, Overhaul is the perfect illustration of a zealous man. He always comes off to you an enthusiastic and passionate regarding the things he does and the things he cares about. It begins with his work, which he puts above all else, and considers to be of the utmost importance. He's got plans, which count trying to make the Yakuza stronger and making his ideal a reality, and he'd do anything to achieve these goals. But his commitment doesn't stop at his work. He's also extremely devoted when it comes to his personal life, especially with you in it. He wholly dedicates his time to you when you two are alone, showing you how important your couple is to him. He tries his best to make it work and doesn't hesitate to go to extreme lengths sometimes, just to make sure you're happy with him and that you won't find anything to reproach him for. It took you some time to notice the true reason behind his actions, and when you understood why he was so committed to you, it surprised you. You hadn't expected him to be the type of man to have these types of doubts, but it also did make you understand how much he loves you. You remind him daily that he doesn't need to do such things for you to believe in his love, but you know deep down that he'll never change, and will always keep on reinforcing the foundations of your couple.

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odue-sp · 1 year

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Bakugou Katsuki x Male Reader

inspo: integral - dios

M/n is Izuku's older brother who is also quirkless.

TW: potential age gap, undiagnosed depression, anhedonia

M/n knew how the blonde explosive boy looked at him. It was strange but he couldn't care less about the child's feelings. He only cares for Izuku and his mother, some boy who gave him flowers and a small clay abomination wasn't important...

"Wow, Kat-chan! That's amazing," he heard his brother shout looking at the mess. His cold and sharp words could no longer be said... 'For Izuku.' he thought as he reached over and carefully took the presents. With the same smile he gave his brother he sang praises.

The light in his eyes when he did. It was something that was amusing. Like a pet getting a treat. No, a pet would listen more... They wouldn't leave such a bruise on his brother's body. At night, he would stare at the clay mess. His hand clenching over the object like it was filth before Izuku gently grabbed his hand. "Don't hurt yourself."

"Oh," his smile appeared again as he picked up the greenette and sat him in his lap. "It's okay. He'll just make more anyways." He spoke calmly as he crushed the mess in his hands. Izuku stared in shock. The flowers were in the trash. Unlike the ones that he gave. They were littered around his room, some even hanged to dry.

Though he was quirkless, he didn't treat him any differently.

"Mama?" His eyes gazed over his mother's pained face as she hugged her son tightly. "Mrs. Midoriya, as you know, there was an incident at your son's school," oh right. They kept talking as he just stared. "What do you have to say for yourself?" The teacher asked as the principal watched. "Mama, did I make you cry? Km sorry," he stood up and took a tissue. Gently wiping her tears away. Resting his head on her shoulder.

His eyes gazed over the two adults...

She was crying again. What happened? She covered her face as she dropped to the floor. The nurses rushed to her side as the doctor carefully pulled him away. "Mama..." He whispered. "Hey, how about we play a game." He turned his head towards the man who tried to take his attention away from his weeping mother. "Something's wrong with me, isn't there?" He asked while glancing at his hands.

The doctor seemed shocked.

"I've noticed. I don't care for others. The only people I care for are my mother and brother," He spoke as he stared deeply at the doctor who slowly became uncomfortable with the intense stare. "My classmates, they wanted to kill me," he remembers why he was sent home that day. "Why am I here? Shouldn't they be evaluated? They threatened to kill someone who is quirkless,” his voice slowly became agitated. "They were going to shove a pencil in my mouth and they used their quirks on me," he remembers the blood.

The screams.

"Oh, is it because they were girls in the mix? Damn, I should've kept their mouths shut."

"Oh, you should keep your mouth shut. You may have a quirk but it doesn't stop you from dying. A gun is easy to purchase these days."

The doctor stared in disbelief.

The doctor didn't stay quiet.

He was sent to therapy, so much therapy and given pills to keep his symptoms at bay. He was somewhat better, he clearly had interest in anyone other than his family. "M/n!" Katsuki rushed over with another flower. He reached over and took the flower with a smile. Without Izuku's praises... "Thank you, it's wonderful."

The flower was thrown away later that night.

Years later...

M/n was part of the Shie Hassaikai. Overhaul was obsessed with the quirkless male, he was perfect. He was stronger without the quirks. He was able to aim perfectly. Everything was perfect to be a right hand man. The fact he couldn't care for anyone was a bonus.

And that he became.

Eri, a child that reminded him of Izuku. His eyes widened as he read the experiments she endured and was heartbreaking. But he needed to make the world perfect. So Izuku could be the only hero. So he could be like All Might. "They could never outshine him." He spoke as he hugged the very thing that could make it happen.

Eri mistook that as love. She saw his face. "Shh, my little brother looks like me. If you ever see him. Run to him. Let him be your hero."

She found him. He was her hero.

He smiled.

"M/n!" Izuku shouted as it was his turn to visit his brother. His classmates stared in shock. This was new! He gave a soft smile towards his brother, he was lifted up with ease before being put down. "M/n." His head turned to see Katsuki. That same light... It was amusing to see it again after so many years.

Izuku was now a teen. He knew that look and blocked him. "M/n! Let me show you the dorm! Even the school!" He grabbed his hand and dragged him away. He knew about M/n's diagnosis. "I was going to say hi," he spoke up after they stopped. "No you weren't." He glanced away. "He's so pitiful, still having a crush after so many years. Isn't that pathetic?" Izuku flinched.

"Not now." He whispered and dragged him away. "It's funny, how do you think he would look if I told him I broke every one of his gifts?" He pushed his brother's button knowing he still cared about his best friend. "I want to tell him. How disgusted I was to pretend to like them." It seems they didn't notice the group stopping and listening.

"Stop it, did you take your medicine?" Izuku asked, his fists shaking holding in anger. "Plus those kids he hung around? Did he think being so annoying was cool? Ah," he sighed out. "I guess I don't need to even hide it anymore." Izuku's eyes widened turning to see his class staring in shock.

Katsuki's eyes shadows as he clenched his fists.

"Oh dear," M/n walked over and ruffled his hair. A gesture that would bring many feelings... Now it only felt fake just now. "Don't feel bad. I was born this way. Even if you try your hardest," his hand moved away with a fake smile reserved for only Katsuki. "I won't be able to love you or anyone for that matter."

Harsh reality.

They were young adults now.

Katsuki didn't care anymore... But every time he heard Izuku talk about what his brother was up to... He couldn't help but feel hurt but didn't want to miss anything. "M/n is getting married," Katsuki's eyes widened. He said he couldn't love. Did someone achieve what he wanted?

The wedding was beautiful, and the bride was just as beautiful. The kiss they shared made Katsuki sick. Izuku and his mother smiled tearfully.

Katsuki couldn't handle it. He walked out quietly for a smoke. The party was loud and it managed to snap him out of his thoughts when he drifted too far. M/n appeared out of nowhere, smoking as well but away from the blonde who only stared.

That smile again, so fake (yet so handsome). "Oh, hey," his voice was terrible (beautiful). "How's my wedding, nice right?" Salt to the wound.

#male reader #male reader insert #x male reader #male y/n #pseudo's ff #seudo's ff #mnha #mha x male reader #bnha x male reader #mha bakugo katsuki #bakugo katuski #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x male reader

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with3r3dflow3r · 2 years

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Caught in the act - Dio x Reader (NSFW)

Summary: Thinking Dio, your master, is away, you're masturbating on his bed and rutting on his pillow. You quickly, however, find that's far from the truth.

Reader is afab.

1635 words of pure horniness

CW: Masturbation, fingering, oral (receiving), overstimulation, biting & blood drinking- like come on, he is a VAMPIRE

Inspired by this GEM

https://arvandus.tumblr.com/post/652504841642475520/icarus-overhaul-x-freader

🔞 NSFW, MINORS DNI! 🔞

You shouldn't have been doing this.

You shouldn't have been doing this and you knew it.

Yet here you were, doing it.

"Dio... A-ah!"

You had absolutely no excuses but, even so, you were in Dio's chamber. Alone. Without permission. On his bed. Naked. Pleasuring yourself. Using his very own pillow to create the friction you so much desired between your legs.

Every part of your current actions were screaming "forbidden" but their scandalous nature only turned you on more.

More, you wanted more.

The vampire's natural scent permeated the entire room. Having your head pressed into his pillow- half to muffle your whines and half to smell him more, tricking yourself into thinking he was there- was intoxicating, to say the least.

You rubbed your crotch on the soft material and dragged your fingers in and out of your core with unparalleled vigor. Letting out moan after moan and sweating all over, you were getting close. You held your eyes closed, picturing your Lord was the one bringing you pleasure. His image in your mind was all it took to push you over the edge.

"Ohh, Dio.. Fuck."

You collapsed on your stomach, trying to calm your staggered breathing.

You could imagine in graphic detail the consequences of getting caught but it didn't phase you in the slightest- and in a way that terrified you. It was almost like you wanted to get caught. Like you wanted your Lord to see you in such a state.

With that, you couldn't help yourself. You once again began to drag your clit against his pillow, further coating it in your juices. You arched your back in bliss, giving a show to a nonexistent audience.

Or so you thought.

"What do you think you're doing, darling?"

The whole world went still and your blood froze in your veins. You had no feeling of your lower body- apart from your ever-aching pussy. The very subject of your sexual fantasies, Dio, had caught you in the act.

You had served him for long and were never one to disappoint. He had even gone as far as calling you his "favorite servant" on occasion- your heart fluttered at the memories. Perhaps, he'd kill you without humiliating you too much in return-

"If I'm not mistaken, I asked you something."

You gulped; your throat was dry.

"How... long have you been here?"

"Does it even matter? Answer me."

Fair point.

"I... I'm sorry m-my Lord-"

"Look at me when you're speaking." His tone was as cold as it could be, demanding, but it was nothing less than the greatest melody you'd ever heard.

You meekly gazed at Dio from behind your shoulder. Though it remained unspoken, he found eroticism in your timidness; like an exquisite dish that was being handed to him with trembling hands.

"Please forgive me, Lord Dio. I know it's wrong but... but I couldn't control myself!!" You blabbered breathlessly, "So I'm b-begging you, don't ki-"

"Hmm," He hummed and you could have sworn he sounded bored, if not for the dangerous glint in his eye and his fang showing from his upward-curled lip. "Where are you manners, (y/n)? I don't remember telling you to stop."

"Excuse me?" you felt light-headed.

"You're not one to leave a job unfinished, are you? So go on, come for me."

You couldn't believe your ears. Dio had just- he had just asked you to...

"But- but... Dio!" You protested, your cheeks flaring. He couldn't be serious, right? Right?

"This is an order." His tone was non-wavering, definite.

Wrong.

You sighed, ready to submit to his desires. What Dio wanted, Dio would always get and you weren't one to defy him- not now, not ever. It was't like you didn't want to continue what he had interrupted, anyway. Shutting your eyes and sliding your hand between your legs, you tried to focus only on the sensations you blessed yourself with, ignoring the intimidating presence behind you.

It was silent, save for the sound of your fingers dipping in and out of your folds, your heavy breathing and the occasional whine. You were purposefully being more quiet than usual- than moments before- for reasons obvious enough.

"Naughty, aren't you, my (y/n)? Making a mess on my bed, on my pillow."

'My (y/n).'

You jolted at his low voice- at his choice of words, his sudden possessiveness- and the feel of his lips on the back of your ear, suddenly feeling all the more aware of the juices running down your upper thighs. You hadn't noticed him approaching you.

He was so close, pressing his warm, bare chest on your also bare back as you were working yourself.

So close yet not close enough.

He started kissing the tender flesh of your neck and soon your orgasm washed over you for the second time that night.

"Mm good girl," He hummed and you could feel his member pressing harder on your ass. "Again."

"What?" you whipped your head back in shock, "But I just.. I'm still sensitive-!"

Dio ground his hips against you for an answer, leaving you no choice but to turn back to your abused clit.

This time he was kind enough to help you reach your peak. Snaking his hands under your shirt, teasing and squeezing your breasts for all they're worth while licking and sucking at the side of your neck, his assistance was much appreciated.

As you were reaching your peak, it hit you; after your every orgasm, Dio would aid you more and more.

With a particularly hard bite on your skin, you came undone- again- with a moan, your whole body shuddering.

"You know," Dio began, stroking the top of your head, "I had been waiting for this moment. I could have taken you whenever I pleased but it's more rewarding seeing you break. It took you long enough."

He... wanted to see you like this? Dio, who could and would have whoever he wanted, craved for you in particular? This revelation was flattering, to say the least.

"Me too!" You said with a little more enthusiasm than intended, feeling the embarrassment creep in at once. "I had been fantasizing about you touching me for so long, my Lord. So, if you please..." you turned around and looked up at him with those innocent eyes- as if you hadn't just now begged for absolute filth; god forbid! You, innocent?- and bit your lower lip.

Dio laughed and dug his head to whisper in your ear, his hot breath fanning all over the side of your face.

"Since you're asking so nicely, I might as well indulge you."

With a push to your chest, you found yourself laying back on the bed, cold silk sheets contrasting the warmth radiating off both your bodies.

His generosity, however, didn't come without a price.

The vampire dragged his fangs across your skin, making goosebumps rise on their way, as if to prepare you for what was to come, in case his hunger-filled gaze wasn't self-explanatory. Without warning, he let his teeth sink in your soft flesh. From there on, there was no return. He continued biting down on you; ravenously, voraciously, insatiably. He was considerate enough not to actually drink from you, only break your skin and lap up the emerging blood, making you jolt in a mix of pain and pleasure.

Completely helpless and feeling giddy, your ragged breathing was the only thing you could do, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

After what felt like forever, Dio's hand finally found its way between your legs, at last rewarding you for being so obedient, and your breath hitched in your throat; his fingers were considerably larger than yours, reaching places inside of you you couldn't even dream of doing yourself. It made you so much more impatient for what would likely come next.

He set a pace that had you whimpering and shuddering with every one of his movements. He alternated from going agonizingly slow to ramming his digits in you, all while stimulating your (swollen) clit with his thumb, making you lose your mind and any composure you had maintained until then. It was a wonder you didn't rip the sheets with how you were clutching on them.

It had only been a few minutes and you were about to burst.

"Right there! A-ah, Dio, I'm going to-"

He pulled his hand away, right when you needed him the most.

You were about to complain when you realized. Your eyes blew wide in want as you watched him in a daze lowering his head towards-

"Ngh!" he dragged his warm tongue from your hole, all the way up to your clit, proceeding to suck on it and flick it mercilessly with his tongue; you couldn't stop your legs from trembling. You curled your fingers around his golden locks, tugging on them, leading him on.

Watching him focusing solely on your pleasure, having control yet serving you, was such an intimate sight. You finished in his mouth, writhing under him and heart swelling with contentment.

You closed your eyes, laying breathless on his bed. When you opened them again, he was still hovering over you, his lustful gaze ever-present.

You gave him a weak smile, your heart racing with both fear and anticipation.

"Am I going to die after all?"

His shoulders began shaking and soon, his deep laugh reverberated throughout the room. He gave your cheek a tender kiss, pulling down his pants. If these actions alone didn't make your heart skip a bit, his following words certainly did. Words that signalled the night was far from over.

"Only a little, my dear. Only a little more." [1]

[1]Reference to "le petit mort", a French expression meaning "the sensation of post orgasm as likened to death".

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scary-grace · 1 month

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Skin Hunger (Chapter 2) -- a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

There's no such thing as a good night at work when you work in the world's most infamous brothel for monsters, but your night takes a turn for the worse when you find yourself serving drinks to visiting half-vampire Shigaraki Tomura. You don't mean to catch his interest, and you don't mean to start a conversation. You definitely don't mean to get him drunk. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Life in Asylum continues, and in the endless scroll of days and nights, cleanups in empty rooms and mop-ups in private parties, it’s almost possible to forget about the half-vampire who will be back at the next full moon. Almost, but not quite. Vampires are a rare enough occurrence in Asylum that everyone’s talking about Shigaraki Tomura and his master, and since they’re going to be regulars, Overhaul provides more than a little education for the staff about the one type of inhuman next to no one has experience with.

Most of the workers don’t care, but you pay close attention. Your knowledge of vampires contains next to nothing concrete. You need to learn, if you want to hold your own during your next conversation with Shigaraki Tomura.

Vampirism is spread through a bite – true. Everyone who’s bitten becomes a vampire – false. Apparently, creating a new vampire requires intention on the part of the vampiric sire, which probably helps to keep the population down. The mechanism that causes half-vampirism is unclear, but what’s perfectly clear is that half-vampires are something unusual. They need to consume blood, just like vampires do, but unlike vampires, they also need to eat. They still have heartbeats, still need to breathe, still need to see the sun every so often. Beyond that, though, no one’s able to describe what powers a half-vampire has, or the degree of strength advantage they have over an ordinary human, or whether they can turn into a true vampire – or how they do it. The question of what Shigaraki’s capable of is one you’re not able to answer, and it bothers you. Then again, if Shigaraki had correctly guessed what you are, he’d be equally in the dark as to what you’re able to do.

Most inhuman species have some sort of biological limitations, just like humans do. Werewolves still need to eat and sleep, and while bullets will damage them, silver bullets are the true threat. Liches and demons can’t set foot on holy ground, no matter which faith has consecrated a given spot, and shapeshifters lose their forms if they get too tired. Everybody knows all about vampires and sunlight. Faeries don’t have limitations. Faeries have rules.

Faeries can’t lie. Lying has physical consequences. Faeries have given names and true names, and while the true names are the most dangerous, even knowledge of a title or nickname can grant some degree of power over them. Faeries are vulnerable to iron, but not in the same way werewolves are vulnerable to silver. A gift offered by a faery is never just a gift; either it comes in repayment for an earlier favor, or it comes with strings attached. Nothing your father’s people give is ever given freely.

And that’s where you got yourself in trouble. You did Shigaraki a favor by using your glamour on him. If that particular rule applies to you as a half-fey, you’ve bound Shigaraki to you until he can repay the debt.

All of that would be enough to deal with heading into the next full moon, and you feel like it’s possible to handle. But three nights before the vampires are set to arrive, the itching starts, and things go from manageable to impossible in the space of an hour.

The last time this happened, you took a few days off of work until it was over, but it’s occurring over a much larger area on your body – your entire left arm, shoulder to wrist, and it’s not going to peel away until it’s ready. If you try, you’ll open yourself up to infection, and if that doesn’t kill you, the way it’ll look once it’s healed will probably make you wish you were dead. You can manage not to scratch while you’re on shift, but when you’re off, you’re scratching constantly, and every last one of your coworkers has something to say about it.

“Better not do that where the boss will see,” Nemoto remarks as you’re all eating in the cramped servants’ mess. “He finds fleas disgusting.”

Nemoto knows damn well you don’t have fleas; he just doesn’t like you, because his demonic ability to force confessions doesn’t work on faeries, and that includes you. The maid you’re sitting next to recoils away from you, and across the table, Tengai rolls his eyes. “It’s not fleas,” he says. “Haven’t any of you seen a half-fey molt before?”

“It’s not molting,” you say uselessly. It would only be molting if you did it regularly.

“Of course none of you have seen it,” Chrono says. Usually he eats with Overhaul, but sometimes Overhaul can’t stand being around even his right-hand man. “Half-fey in general are rare, and her variety of half-fey is rarer still.”

Everyone looks at you. You can’t tell if they’re waiting for you to explain or thinking that they’ll figure it out if they just stare hard enough. Either way, your face turns red, and Chrono heaves a dramatic sigh. “For most of you half-breeds, it doesn’t matter which of your parents was the inhuman. It matters for faeries.”

Tabe burps. “Why?”

Why questions are usually safe to ask Chrono – asking Overhaul a why question results in either a flat, irritated look or a two-hour lecture about the minutiae of the topic. “It’s unclear,” Chrono says. “What is clear, however, is that half-fey children take after their fathers in appearance and lifespan, and their mothers in magical ability.”

“Huh?”

Chrono doesn’t have his mask on. This time you can see him roll his eyes. “Children of human fathers and faery mothers resemble humans, and have human lifespans. Despite that, they have significant magical abilities.”

“How strong are they?” Rappa asks through a full mouth. “Stronger than regular human magicians?”

Chrono shrugs. You, meanwhile, think about a conspiracy theory you read in one of Overhaul’s books – that all human magic-users are secretly matrilineal half-fey, whose mothers either abandoned them to their fathers or swapped out the child of an unknowing human couple for one of their own. If that was the case, nobody would ever know. Other than the magic, matrilineal half-fey are indistinguishable from ordinary humans. “Hang on,” Setsuno says. “If half-fey take after their fey parent in how they look, how come she looks so human?”

“She doesn’t,” Chrono says. He looks to you, and you lower your hand from your shoulder. You’ve been using the cover of the conversation to scratch to your heart’s content. “Show them.”

You give him a pleading look, which he ignores, and finally you rise from the table and back away. You’re still wearing your uniform, so you pull up the skirt on your right side, revealing your leg. The table recoils as a group, and you’re pretty sure everybody’s thinking exactly what comes out of Rappa’s mouth. “What the fuck?”

“Patrilineal half-fey inherit their father’s lifespan,” Chrono says, “and their appearance – or some of it. They appear to be completely human until they reach physical maturity, at which point they begin a partial transformation. You can see the patches where fey skin has grown in to replace human skin, creating a patchwork which renders the half-fey unable to conceal their true nature.”

It’s not just your skin. Your ears have begun to change shape, growing pointed at the tips, and the natural color of your eyes has taken on a strange iridescent overlay. You need to blink less than you used to, sometimes – other times, it’s a struggle to keep your eyes open in the light without sticky, pearlescent tears oozing from them. If your father had been one of any of half a dozen varieties of fey, you’d have seen changes with your mouth, with your hands, even with the way you breathe. But while your mother never told you anything concrete about your father, she was at least able to confirm that he didn’t have gills.

Your transformation is mainly cosmetic. That doesn’t make it any less terrible, and cosmetic is a relative term. “Due to their appearances and lack of other gifts, half-fey used to make frequent appearances in human freak shows,” Chrono continues. “Some also theorize that the reason they’re unwelcome in faery society is due to their ugliness.”

“Oh.” Your coworkers are nodding at this, like it makes sense to them. Nemoto’s looking right at you when he responds. “I get it.”

You know you’re not pretty, but that doesn’t mean you like having it hammered home. You drop the right side of your skirt back down and sit again, and spend the rest of the meal picking at your food. Your appetite’s gone, and your shoulder is still itching. Even though you’re exhausted from your shift, you’re going to have a hard time falling asleep.

You’re making a beeline back to your quarters, with the intention of trying to shower off the itch and falling asleep immediately afterwards, when Chrono catches up to you. “Aren’t you going to thank me?”

“Thank you?” Backtalking to your boss is a terrible idea, but you can’t hold onto your skepticism. “For what?”

“I explained your situation, so you wouldn’t have to.” Chrono looks pleased with himself. “I did you a favor.”

“You could have done that without calling me ugly.”

“Should I have lied? It’s not as if you’re unaware,” Chrono says. He reaches out, hooks the neckline of your uniform with one finger, and pulls it aside. “How much skin are you going to lose this time?”

“Everything on my arm,” you say. Chrono looks surprised, and you seize the opportunity to shy away from his hand. “Goodnight, boss.”

“Your arm,” Chrono muses. “That’ll be a sight to see.”

Yes, it will. The juxtaposition of smooth, perfect, oil-slick shimmering faery skin with plain human skin on the same body is enough to make anyone’s skin crawl, yours included. You turn away from Chrono, and you’re almost out of earshot, almost to safety, when you hear him speak again. “You’ll have to show me when it’s done.”

That’s not the first comment like that you’ve heard from Chrono in the past year or two. They’re becoming increasingly frequent, and you know what they mean, just like you know you don’t want anything to do with them. You mumble another goodnight and duck into the female servants’ quarters, shedding your clothes and slipping a faint glamour over yourself as you step into the shower. You’re pretty sure there aren’t scrying mirrors in here, but at the same time, you’re pretty sure that if any guests wanted to pay to watch the maids shower, Overhaul would find a way to make it happen.

The hot water helps dull the itch, for now. You dry off and change into your sleeping clothes, noting every spot on your body where your heritage has surfaced. Your right leg is covered, thigh to calf, wide sashes and ribbons of fey skin interrupting your skin, jagged and gaudy. Your torso is covered, too, but you were smarter with that – when it was time, you peeled your dying skin away in a single piece rather than clawing it to ribbons. There’s some on your lower back that you never tried to peel away at all, and as a result, the fey skin is pitted and scarred. It looks hideous. You look hideous.

You know it’s true, but at the same time, you know you’re lucky. You’ve seen photos of half-fey whose fey skin broke through on their faces, unmistakable and impossible to hide. At least you’ve got a prayer of hiding this. Or you will, once you’ve peeled this next sheet of skin away to reveal what’s beneath. You crawl into bed and close your eyes, hoping that the itching will wake you in the middle of the night, so severe that you’ll have no choice but to peel the skin off right then and there. The waiting is the worst part. You just want it to be over before the full moon.

But it isn’t over before the full moon. It’s the biggest piece of skin you’ve lost – the last big piece you’ll lose, if only half your skin changes – and it’s clinging on for dear life. You beg Overhaul to help you, to employ the magic he uses to reshape the workers’ bodies when they’re injured, but he refuses. “The reaction between your meager magic and mine is too unpredictable,” he says. “I can’t help you.”

“Then let me have the night off,” you plead. He shakes his head. “Please. I won’t be any use if the skin breaks through.”

“You have my full permission to take your break to remove it,” Overhaul says, and you bite back tears. You were barely functional after you excised the skin on your torso. There’s no way you’ll be able to work with your left arm freshly peeled. “Not only is it a full moon, it’s also the autumnal equinox. We’ll need your glamours if any of the half-dozen rituals scheduled to take place here get out of hand.”

The equinoxes are the only nights where ordinary humans are allowed into Asylum, and they’re barely ordinary – they’re cultists, devoted to the worship of specific demons, conducting rituals that would get them thrown in prison in the human world. “And even if that were not the case,” Overhaul says, “there is a certain half-vampire scheduled to arrive with his master, and I doubt anyone else will be able to get him drunk.”

You were already stressed about running into Shigaraki Tomura again, but the idea of seeing him tonight sends you into a near-panic. “Sir –”

“That’s enough,” Overhaul says, and you fall silent in a hurry. “The moon is about to rise in Kiribati, and you aren’t in uniform. Get changed.”

You won’t win this. You know you won’t. You leave Overhaul’s study, hoping that the skin on your arm will hold out for another twenty-four hours – and hoping that Shigaraki Tomura’s master decided to leave him at home.

The autumnal equinox is fairly quiet as far as equinoxes go, but it’s not often that it occurs on a full moon, and from the moment the moon comes up over an even slightly populated area, Asylum devolves into barely-controlled chaos. The casualty count for workers exceeds an average full moon within the first three hours, and for the first time in a while, Overhaul comes out of his study to help repair the bodies rather than expecting them to be brought to him. Chrono equips the workers with alarm sigils, which will trigger a warning if their heart rates drop below a certain threshold. It’s an unusual precaution, but you know better than to think it’s out of any concern for the workers’ health – more that if too many of them die, Asylum won’t be able to serve all the guests who are flooding through the door.

You’re doing some of everything – a little cleaning, a little mopping up, a little belting a demon in the face with a mop when they won’t let go of the badly injured worker you’re trying to take back to Overhaul. You’re busy enough that you can almost forget about the itching, about the faery skin that’s trying to erupt through your skin on your left arm. For the first seven hours of the night, you run yourself ragged, doing whatever Overhaul’s ordered you to do, racing from floor to floor and trying to spot trouble before it begins. You’ve lived in Asylum your entire life. There’s nobody who knows their way around better than you do.

At hour eight, Overhaul summons you to the makeshift infirmary. When you get there, you spot a pile of discarded gloves on his right, a bubbling cauldron on his left, and a newly healed worker sprawled out in front of him. “Get out,” Overhaul orders the worker, and she scrambles upright, falls, and crawls unsteadily towards the exit. The instant she’s gone, Overhaul plunges his hands into whatever’s boiling inside the cauldron.

You don’t want to know what’s in there, and based on the grimace on Overhaul’s face, you don’t even want to go near him. But he summoned you. You step forward. “Sir?”

“The first ritual is about to begin. You’ll be supervising it.”

Your stomach drops. “I can’t,” you say. Overhaul mutters a curse under his breath. “I can’t! I don’t have magic –”

“You think throwing more magic at an out-of-control ritual will solve the problem? Playing stupid won’t get you out of it.” Overhaul lifts his hands from the cauldron and you startle at the sight of them. His fingers have been eaten down nearly to the bone, and in spite of the fact that he’s repairing them before your eyes, you can’t help but feel nauseous. “There are supply kits in my study, with the measures necessary to contain a ritual. All that’s required of you is to deploy them. Go.”

“Sir –”

“I don’t have time for this,” Overhaul snaps at you, and you flinch. You’ve never seen him this stressed before. “Chrono is needed elsewhere. None of the others but you possess a sensitivity to magic, and no one other than me is able to perform the repairs. Succeed at this and you’ll be rewarded appropriately. I don’t need to tell you what will happen if you fail.”

You know exactly what will happen if you fail. You nod mutely. “The supply kits can be found in the furthest cupboard. Hold out your hand,” Overhaul says. When you do, he traces a rune into your right palm. “Use this to unlock them. Go.”

You have more questions – like how to figure out which countermeasure to use first, or how to tell when they’re needed in the first place – but Rappa’s coming through the door carrying another worker, and Overhaul’s attention shifts from you. He’s not going to change his mind, and there’s no one else who can do the job. There’s nothing for you to do but head for Overhaul’s study. Being expected to supervise a ritual is bad enough. Being late to it is probably worse.

The cultists are making final preparations for their ritual in the smallest of Asylum’s three gardens. You’re not sure which cult this is, but they brought their own sacrifice, bound hand and foot in spite of the fact that they’re unconscious. You try not to look too hard at them. You don’t look too hard at the cultists, either. You pry open the supply kit and study the items within. Now that you’re looking at it, they seem pretty straightforward. Salt and consecrated chalk, for sealing the paths leading to the garden off from the rest of Asylum. A set of wardstones to keep anyone from entering once the ritual begins. A sheet of runes to trace in midair, as an extra precaution. None of it requires more than the tiniest amount of magic. Maybe this is doable.

You confirm that all the cultists are in the garden, then get to work, starting with the salt and chalk across each path leading into the garden. Next it’s the wardstones. The cultists are using a pentagram in their rituals, which means you need a hexagram to contain them properly. Wardstones are simple enough to set. You set them spinning with a twist of your fingers and leave them to hover. A few more of these, then a few sigils, and then you’re all set. You can do this.

A single footfall and a shadow falling across yours are the only warnings you get before a familiar voice rings out from behind you. “If you don’t want people to think you’re a witch, you shouldn’t spend so much time casting spells,” Shigaraki Tomura says, and you nearly jump out of your skin. “Did you miss me?”

It takes an effort not to throw the wardstone at him. “I’m not a witch. And this isn’t a spell.”

“It looks like a spell,” Shigaraki says. He looks way too pleased with himself for reasons beyond your understanding. “That’s two spells I’ve seen you do. Your boss is a warlock, so I don’t get why you’d lie about being a witch.”

You were dreading meeting Shigaraki again, in part because you were sure he’d guessed that you were half-fey. Apparently not. “That wasn’t a spell, and neither is this,” you say. “I’ll show you.”

“Huh?”

You motion for him to come forward, and he does, looking way too suspicious. What does he think you’re going to do? You’re not the one who drinks blood. “Hold this,” you say, and push the wardstone into his hand. “Now, do this –”

You show him the proper gesture to activate it, and he tries it – and drops it, just like you did the first time you tried it. Before you can tell him to try again, he picks it up and looks at you. “Show me again.”

You show him the gesture, and this time he copies it much more closely. The wardstone spins out of his hand and hovers in midair, the last piece of the hexagram you’ve been constructing falling into place. Shigaraki looks surprised, then pleased with himself again. You’re less annoyed with it this time, mostly because it’s given you a chance to prove your point. “You can do it, and you have even less magic than I do. It’s not a spell.”

“This one isn’t a spell,” Shigaraki agrees. He’s mimicking the gesture again, even better on the third try. “The other one was.”

A glamour’s not a spell. If it was a spell, it could be replicated by anyone else, but your glamour is an extension of your nature as a half-fey. You won’t be able to convince Shigaraki otherwise without outing yourself, so you keep quiet, and you set back off around the garden, headed for where you left the supply kit. Shigaraki follows you. “I went to the bar. You weren’t there,” he says. “Are you avoiding me or something?”

“I don’t work in the lounge most of the time. That night I was just filling in.” You’re conscious, suddenly, of the fact that you’re in the maid uniform – and that the maid uniform doesn’t come with even the most useless of masks. “To be honest, I didn’t know you were here.”

Shigaraki makes an affronted sound, but you’ve reached the supply kit, and you have runesigns to trace. In the garden, the cultists are moving into position to begin their ritual. You hold the sheet in one hand and begin to trace the sigils in midair. “What do you do most of the time, then?” Shigaraki asks. “If you’re not down there.”

“I clean.” You make the mistake of gesturing at your uniform, and Shigaraki takes the invitation to look you up and down. “And whatever else Overhaul needs me to do.”

“Like this. What is this?”

“There are cult rituals happening tonight. Overhaul and Chrono are both busy, so they asked me to keep an eye on this one.”

“Huh.” Shigaraki looks away from you, into the garden. “My master had a cult for a while.”

You really don’t know what to think of that, except that if it had been relevant, it would have been the first thing Overhaul and Chrono told the staff about. “How old is your master?”

“Old,” Shigaraki says, which tells you absolutely nothing. “What about your boss?”

“Also old.”

Shigaraki snorts. “What about you?” You clam up instantly, and he rolls his eyes. “Come on. Either your name, what you are, or how old you are. Give me at least one.”

Out of those three pieces of information, your age is the one that won’t get you in trouble. That doesn’t mean you won’t make him work for it. “You first.”

“Come on,” Shigaraki complains. You wait, watching as the cultists pick up their unconscious sacrifice and lay him out on the altar they built out of bones they brought from home. “Not that it matters or anything, but I’m twenty-three. Your turn.”

“Twenty-three,” you repeat. You can’t tell if you’re surprised by his age or not, but the fact that he’s still counting it means he’s still mortal. Your age stopped mattering two years ago, but you’ve kept count anyway. “Me, too.”

“Was that so hard?” Shigaraki grins, just a little too widely. The only thing that keeps you from calling it a leer is an instinct that it’s not born out of triumph at getting one over on you. A moment later, you’re proven right. “I knew it.”

Why does it matter to him that you’re the same age? A low hum begins to vibrate through the air, and the sigil hovering just in front of you wavers. The ritual’s beginning, and you need to focus. Unfortunately for you, Shigaraki’s still here. You need to shake him off. “I’m surprised you’re not with your master. Aren’t you here to feed?”

“He’s here to feed. I’m here to learn,” Shigaraki says. Learn what? “This looks more interesting than whatever else is going on around here.”

The hum in the air intensifies. Beneath the sleeve of your uniform, you feel your skin beginning to crawl. “If you’re going to stay, keep quiet. I need to concentrate.”

“Right. Witches need to concentrate when they’re doing magic.”

You’ve decided not to respond to any more witch jokes. The cultists are chanting in one of the demonic languages, drawing in close to surround the altar and obscure the sacrifice. Now that you think about it, you’re not sure what kind of sacrifice this is, and regardless of whether it’s symbolic or literal, you don’t want to watch it. You especially don’t want to watch it with Shigaraki – Shigaraki, who’s standing next to you, head tilted to one side, scratching idly at his neck. Seeing him scratch makes you want to scratch. You peer down into the supply kit instead, wondering which of the objects inside you’re supposed to use first if things get out of hand.

“Is there food here?”

Out of all the things Shigaraki might have said, you weren’t expecting that. “Huh?”

“Food,” Shigaraki says again. “Is there food here?”

It feels like round two of the WiFi conversation, except this time, you’re able to give him the answer he’s hoping for. “Yes. Why?”

“After this. We should get some.”

“Um –”

“You get breaks, right? Even witches have to eat.” Shigaraki’s scratching harder than before, and he’s not looking at you. “I’m hungry.”

He is really skinny, but he’s also a half-vampire. You know half-vampires still need blood, and you focus on that question instead of the other, worse one. “Not thirsty?”

“I have money. I can pay for it,” Shigaraki says, ignoring you. “And you helped me out the last time I was here.”

“I’m the one who got you drunk.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t owe –”

“Stop talking.” You’ve interrupted him, but it’s not enough – he’s already opening his mouth again, and you slap your hand down over it before he can get another word out. “I mean it.”

Shigaraki’s red eyes are wide. You can’t tell if it’s with affront or with shock. His lips move against the palm of your hand, dry and rough, and a weird jolt travels through you, raising the hairs on your arms and the back of your neck. It’s drowned out a second later by a vibration through the air that makes you stagger. The sigil in front of you dissolves, unable to stand in the face of another wave emanating from the site of the ritual.

The wave abates, for a moment, and you think you’re safe – but the next thing you know, you and Shigaraki are both staggering as the vibration travels through the ground in addition to the air. You don’t need anybody to tell you that the ritual’s gotten out of hand, and you dive into the supply kit, searching desperately for something that can counteract a demonic curse. Something whips past you from the opposite direction, slicing your cheek. You don’t look up. You’re busy.

Shigaraki catches Overhaul’s message and pries it open, reads it aloud. “Your boss wants you to play a song. How are you supposed to play a song when phones don’t work in here?”

“Tell me you don’t really think that music only comes out of phones.” You pull a music box out of the bottom of the supply kit, dust it off, and open it. No music comes out – you must have to turn the handle. “Be quiet.”

Music begins to emanate from the box after two turns of the handle – a thin, quiet voice, singing what sounds like a lullaby in a language you don’t speak. You doubt the cultists speak it, either. But it doesn’t matter what the words are, or even that the singer is at least a little tone-deaf. All that matters is the glamour that drips from every note, stronger and heavier than anything you’ve ever called up. It’s a faery’s voice, and it’s already affecting Shigaraki. He sways sideways, falls hard against a column, the curse he mumbles more slurred than his voice was when he was drunk. The glamour is almost overpowering. If you weren’t half-fey, you’d fall prey to it yourself.

It’s strong enough to stagger Shigaraki and disorient you, but it’s not having much of an effect on the ritual itself. The vibrations are still traveling through the air, and worse, you can feel them in the ground beneath your feet. You keep turning the handle of the music box with no change in the strength of the demonic curse emanating from the center of the garden. Why isn’t it working?

The answer occurs to you just as Shigaraki speaks up. “It’s too quiet,” he mumbles. “Witch. Make it louder.”

You can’t. The despair barely has time to settle in before the answer occurs to you. You can’t make the voice from the music box louder, but you can make sure it’s not the only fey voice in the garden. You clear your throat, coat your voice in your glamour, and begin to sing.

It’s nothing – some song you liked when you could walk freely in the human world, the first thing that comes to mind. You make an effort to match the key the music box is singing in, and you project both your voice and your glamour, doing your best to build on what the faint fey voice is already providing. You think it might be working. You’re not sure.

What you do know is that Shigaraki’s figured you out. You can see him out of the corner of your eye, still slumped against the column, staring unabashedly at you as you turn the handle of the music box and sing. You’re able to console yourself with the thought that your uniform hides your patchwork fey skin before you realize what a stupid thing that is to think about – right now, or ever. Your throat is starting to hurt, your vocal cords straining under the weight of the glamour. You aren’t sure how much longer you can keep this up.

The vibrations from the ritual begin to fade just as your voice begins to crack, and it gives you the willpower to hold on a little longer, the notes you sing growing increasingly fractured and hoarse. By the time your voice gives out completely, the demonic energy’s faded to the point where the music box is enough to counter it. Your ears are ringing, so much that you almost miss Chrono’s footsteps as he approaches. He notes Shigaraki, then looks to you. “You should have called for help.”

“From who?” Your voice sounds awful. You cough. “I took care of it.”

“If that demonic energy had gotten into the flux field, it could have destabilized the entire dimension,” Chrono snaps. “Someone as weak as you has no business trying to contain –”

“If she can’t contain it, you shouldn’t have sent her to watch it.” Shigaraki levers himself upright. “Something was off about that ritual. Isn’t it your job to catch things like that? Or are you really okay with a bunch of human cultists sacrificing half-demons in your pocket dimension?”

“Half-demon?” Chrono swears. “They wouldn’t dare.”

“I can smell its blood.” Shigaraki shrugs. “She saved your ass. Give her a bonus or something.”

Chrono handles being told what to do by people other than Overhaul about as well as Rappa handles being told what to do by anybody. His shoulders stiffen, and his hand closes around your upper arm, venting a sharp jolt of magic into you rather than loosing it at Shigaraki. At least, that’s what you think he’s doing. Then the skin on your right arm, itchy and crawling since three days ago, erupts with an itch so sharp and acidic that it almost feels like a burn.

Your arm is on fire. You’ve felt this before, and you know instantly that you can’t leave it a second longer. “I need my break,” you say to Chrono, your voice strained.

He lets you go with a sharp nod. You turn and all but run from the garden, already clawing off your apron.

No time to get back to the servants’ quarters, but Asylum is full of places to hide if you know where to look. And you know where to look. With a master rune like the one you carry, you can open up passageways and closets that even the savviest of guests don’t know exist, and you’ve used them more times than you’d like to admit. You reach the nearest of the passageways and raise the rune to tap against the wall, only for the agonizing itch in your left arm to flare to new heights. Your body contorts in discomfort, and your right hand falls back to your side – and then, so fast that you barely register it, someone slips the rune from around your wrist.

It's Shigaraki, and he’s got enough of a height advantage over you that he can hold the rune out of reach just by extending his arm. You don’t have time for this. You really don’t have time for this. You can feel the fey skin beginning to eat through yours from below. “Give it back!”

“So that was why you wouldn’t let me say I owed you. You’re a faery, not a witch.” Shigaraki’s grinning like he’s figured something out, even though the clue you gave him was a thousand times more obvious than the clue you got a month ago. “Why didn’t you want me to owe you one? My master is powerful. You could have asked me for anything.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

“Except this.” Shigaraki studies the rune. You reach for it again and he holds out his other hand to forestall you. “You want this, and I want a straight answer. The ritual’s done. Do you want to go get food with me or not?”

The small part of you that’s not panicking, caught in the desperate need to get the rune back, to get away, notices how he’s phrased the question. He knows that faeries can’t lie, and for some bizarre reason, he’s decided to corner you on a question so mundane that you wonder if you’re hallucinating it. Why would he waste a question he thinks you’ll have to answer on something this stupid?

It doesn’t matter, because half-fey can lie as much as they want, and because you’re done playing around. You glamour your left arm, faking a clumsy feint, and when Shigaraki shifts away from it, you snatch the rune from his hand with your right. He’s between you and the wall, so you turn away, pressing the rune against the opposite wall and opening up the passageway there. You dive through it, the relief at being out of the hallway marred only by the fact that Shigaraki followed you in.

The passageway you were aiming for originally had space. This one is a close fit for one person, tight for two, but you’re out of time to be picky. You can’t get your arm out of your dress without unbuttoning it partway. “What are you doing?” Shigaraki asks, clearly startled, as you undo the buttons one-handed and draw your arm from your sleeve. “Are you transforming?”

Even the slightest motion of your arm sets off a wave of pins and needles, and you grit your teeth as you work it free. Bared from wrist to shoulder, your arm looks awful, mottled, bulging in odd places, almost writhing in others – like the fey skin really is trying to claw its way to freedom from the inside out. Seeing what it looks like only hardens your resolve. You dig your fingers into your shoulder, trying to pry up a piece of skin. If you get a good enough grip on the first one, you can peel off the rest in one sheet.

But you can’t get a grip. Your hand is shaking too much, or your nails are too short, or something. You remember too late that the only other time you peeled the skin back, you made the first incision with a pocketknife. Overhaul doesn’t let the staff carry weapons. You don’t have anything on you that’s sharp enough to cut through your skin, and if you can’t – there’s no way you’ll be able to scratch all your skin away before the fey skin eats through. It’ll be agonizing. It’ll take forever. And Shigaraki will be watching you the entire time.

Shigaraki. You turn to him, desperate and hating yourself for it. You know that guests are searched for weapons when they arrive, but maybe – “Do you have anything sharp?”

“Like a knife?” Shigaraki shakes his head. Then his expression shifts, and he raises one hand to his mouth, pressing the pad of his thumb against one of his incisors. You see blood well up where the tooth breaks his skin. “My teeth aren’t as sharp as my master’s –”

If they can draw blood, they’re sharp enough. You beckon him forward. “Please.”

Part of you is expecting him to bargain. Any inhuman would, if they had one of the Fair Folk at their mercy – they’d never get better terms for any deal they wished to make. But Shigaraki steps forward, closing the slight distance between you without asking what you’ll give him in exchange. His hands are dry, his palms rough like before, as they close around your wrist and raise your hand towards his mouth. “Here?”

His breath is hot against your wrist. You shake your head. “My shoulder.”

Some part of you is terrified at the thought of letting a vampire this close to your throat, screaming in terror at the thought of those teeth meeting your skin. Shigaraki edges even closer to you, as close together as you were when you were dragging him drunk down the hall. His mouth brushes against your shoulder, and you freeze in place. What is he waiting for? You don’t need him to peel the skin off for you. You just need him to –

At least one of Shigaraki’s incisors punctures your skin, and you flinch, hiss – less at the pain, and more at the fact that he’s touching you, one hand on your waist and the other around your wrist, keeping your left arm extended and keeping the rest of you close. But you’ve got what you needed from him. You dig your fingers into the breach, get a good grip, and pull.

It hurts when you peel your human skin away from the faery skin that’s grown beneath, but the human skin is already dead. As it breaks contact with your body, it goes ashen, then transparent. There’s next to no blood. The faery skin glistens, slick with serous fluid, as it’s bared to the air for the first time. You mess up a little bit at the end, peeling away a piece of healthy human skin on the back of your hand by accident. It feels like a hangnail, and your entire arm stings. The pain would be worth complaining about if you didn’t know exactly how bad it was before.

Shigaraki’s still way too close to you. You try to sidle away, and he lets go of your waist, but not your arm. He’s peering intently at it, almost fixated. You brace yourself for the kind of comments you’ve heard every time someone’s seen what you really look like. “Wow,” Shigaraki says. “It looks even cooler than I thought.”

You’re not sure you heard him right. “Cool?”

“Don’t fish for compliments. I’m getting to it,” Shigaraki says. He hasn’t looked up from your arm yet. “I thought it would look cool, and I was right. Do you have more of it?”

You’re feeling weirdly lightheaded. You nod, and you can tell Shigaraki’s grinning just by the sound of his voice. “How much more?” he asks. “Can I see?”

That question snaps you out of whatever fog you’ve been floating in. “No,” you say, and pull away from him completely. “You weren’t even supposed to see this.”

“But you’d have been in trouble if I wasn’t here.” Shigaraki’s eyes follow you closely, not just focused on your arm this time. You can feel his gaze roving over you. If you had to guess, you’d say he’s trying to figure out where else you’re hiding fey skin. “I helped.”

He helped you, after you helped him. “We’re even, then,” you say. “Is that why you did it?”

Shigaraki’s not even subtle in how he ducks the question, and before you can press him for an answer, you hear someone or something knocking against the wall outside – a sharp, uneven rattle that startles you both. You start wrestling your arm back into your sleeve. The serous fluid will glue the fabric to the fey skin and removing it will be painful later, but you don’t have a choice. You need to get out there, and you need to beg whoever’s knocking not to tell Overhaul that they found you in the world’s smallest secret passageway with Shigaraki Tomura and your dress unbuttoned.

The knocking intensifies. You miss a button at the collar of your dress and Shigaraki’s hands knock yours aside, undoing it and buttoning it properly again. Is he trying to get you in his debt officially? You decide that’s a problem for later and open the wall again. There’s no one there but one of Overhaul’s paper cranes, battering itself to death against the wall. You grab it clumsily out of the air. Overhaul’s message is blunt and to-the-point – he wants you to assist Chrono in containing the next ritual, which starts in half an hour. Shigaraki is peering over your shoulder. “I can’t read it.”

“That’s because it’s not for you. They can only be read by the person they’re intended for,” you say. Half an hour. That’s not much time. “Look, I have to –”

Another paper crane zips past you, headed for Shigaraki. He whips his head to one side to avoid it, but he read the trajectory wrong. The wing slices into the dry skin on the side of his neck and he swears, clapping his hand over the now-bleeding paper cut. You capture the crane instead and hand it to him. His expression, already annoyed, deepens into frustration and discomfort as he reads. “What does it say?” you ask.

“What does yours say?”

“Mine says I have half an hour before I’m supposed to help with the next ritual,” you say. “What about yours?”

“My master wants me to feed while I’m here.” Shigaraki scowls. “I don’t want to feed. I’m hungry.”

He’s hungry, and he helped you, and he’s a guest – but it’s not any of those things that decides your course of action. It’s something else, something you’d go mute rather than admit to out loud. “I’ve got half an hour,” you say. There’s almost certainly something else you’re supposed to be doing with that half an hour. Overhaul can be angry with you later. “We can go get something to eat.”

Shigaraki looks surprised. “Really?”

“Sure.” You can’t figure out where that surprise is coming from. He’s been bothering you about it since before the ritual went sideways. Was he not expecting you to say yes? “And we should cover that cut on your neck.”

Shigaraki pulls his hand away from it, grimacing. “It’s not that bad. I get worse all the time.”

From scratching? “It’s still not a good idea to walk around bleeding in here. Let’s go.”

You steer clear of the infirmary and make your way instead to one of the supply caches, using your master rune to open it, and then to open an alcove where you can patch up Shigaraki’s injury in peace. Shigaraki complains as you try to clean the wound. “Why does he fold those things so sharp, anyway?”

“So people will snap to it faster,” you explain. “Most of us would rather drop what we’re doing and do what he wants than risk getting a papercut like that.”

“Your boss is an asshole.” Shigaraki tilts his head to the side at your request, then freezes. “What are you doing?”

“I just moved your hair. It was in the way.” You don’t care that he’s uncomfortable. After what happened tonight, after how much of you he saw, you feel like he deserves it. You get a fingertip full of some salve from the supply caches and start daubing it onto the cut, to the tune of a sharp hiss. “Sorry. I’m trying to be gentle.”

Shigaraki doesn’t respond to that. It’s quiet as you fish through the supply kit for a bandage, a quiet that feels awkward but not necessarily tense. Shigaraki doesn’t speak again until after you’ve placed the bandage. “Can you use one of your spells on it? Whatever you did last time,” he says. “If my master finds out –”

“It’s a glamour, not a spell,” you say. “No problem.”

A phantom itch travels along your left arm as you set the glamour, fading before you can scratch it in earnest. You store the supply kit, open another passageway that will lead directly to the kitchens, and start off, counting on Shigaraki to follow you. The awkwardness follows, too, and just like before, Shigaraki speaks first. “I get it now. Why you wouldn’t tell me what you were.”

You find yourself tucking your left arm close to your body, shielding it. Shigaraki keeps talking. “You helped me just now. I owe you a favor again. Ask.”

Earlier tonight, you’d have asked him to leave you alone. Now – “We’re even. Don’t worry about it.”

“You can’t do that,” Shigaraki says. “I know how this works. You can’t just cancel a debt because you don’t want anything from the person who owes it.”

“I’m only half-fey. I don’t know which of the rules applies to me,” you say. “You’re off the hook.”

“What if I don’t want to be off the hook?”

You can’t imagine why he’d want to be on the hook. The Fair Folk are notorious for driving cruel and twisted bargains. Whether it’s due to their morality, which doesn’t map onto human morals particularly well, or due to a desire to hurt others, everyone who’s ever found themselves in debt to a faery has been keen to get out of it as quickly as possible. Why on earth would Shigaraki want to carry around a possible debt to you?

You don’t want to ask that question. You stay quiet. “I guess I’ll have to stick around, then,” Shigaraki muses. “See about paying you back.”

You glance at him and find him smirking, or grinning. You can’t tell which. Your glamour is shimmering at the side of his neck, obvious to you but subtle enough to escape his master’s notice, and his lips, which would have cracked at a smile this wide even an hour ago, look smoother than before. You have a bad feeling about why that is – and at the same time, you aren’t as worried about it as you were before. Now that he knows what you are, interacting with him is significantly less stressful than before. It’s not something you’ll look forward to. But it’s not something you’ll dread.

“I guess you have to,” you say, and his smile brightens. Even that’s not enough to dredge up the ambivalence you felt before. “Let’s get some food.”

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura #x reader #reader insert #skin hunger

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sailoryooons · 1 year

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The Iron Ring | Epilogue | pjm (m)

❀ Pairing: fae prince! Jimin x human! female reader

❀ Summary: After finding a mysterious ring while cleaning out your late grandmother’s attic, you receive the unlikeliest of visitors: a fae prince who claims you have something that belongs to him. Discovering the fairytales your grandmother told you are true is the least of your problems when you’re taken to a world dangerous and unfamiliar.

❀ Word Count: 5,831

❀ Genre: fantasy au, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Jumping around and no clear timeline, unexplained things because this is just a shortly little tie-up for scenes we didn't get in the final chapter, explicit language, sexually explicit content including hand jobs, grinding, unprotected vaginal sex, nipple play, a lot of spit and making out and overall passionate sex in a bathtub, Jimin and reader being simps TM, reader being a wicked little bitch in her scene with Jin honestly we stan because the Jiminfication of reader

❀ Published: December 9, 2022

❀ A/N: Here is the promise epilogue for just a handful of scenes to put the cherry on top of the massive overhaul that was the last chapter of this series. If reading the side character stories is something you're interested in (like Yoongi and Khione or Hoseok and Taehyung etc.) please let me know here. This sex scene is brought to you by SZA's new album thank you

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Series Masterlist | Series Playlist | Previous Chapter

“Stop fidgeting,” you giggle, swatting at Jimin’s hands as he adjusts the collar of his button up again. He’s already pulled it away from his neck several times, complaining that the human shirt-style is far too restricting for his taste.

Jimin’s taste is open chest shirts that reveal far too much skin for lunch with your mother, but convincing him that had taken a lot of begging. And kissing. And moaning.

“Your fashion here is dreadful,” Jimin huffs, crossing his arms. You’ve put him in nice jeans, a button up shirt and let him keep his earrings and jewelry on for meeting your mother. Though he wears a glamour to seem less faerie, Jimin stands out. “My chest was made for ogling.”

People are ogling anyway. Jimin has turned heads all morning as you walked into the store to buy him an appropriate outfit for lunch, and as you walked into the French café tucked in the corner of a shopping district.

Even your waitress had given him a glass of water with trembling hands, red cheeks and a stutter. You couldn’t blame her. Even dressed as a pedestrian, the King of the High Court was a work of art to look at.

“Just admit you’re nervous,” you hiss at him. “It’s okay to be nervous, you know?”

Jimin glares at you, green eyes darkening. You can sense that he’s nervous through your mating bond, but you’ve also gotten better at reading Jimin in general.

When you returned to your world a few days after the Battle at High Tree, as they’ve come to call it, you’d discovered that two days had passed. While Jimin assures you that time is different and sometimes it might be a year that passes, your world is almost always moving slower than Faerie.

Entering your grandmother’s home that first time had sent such a wave of relief that you were alive and well that you had sat in your room with walls painted of her life story for an hour and cried. When you finally felt strong enough to call your mom, it was deep into the hours of the night.

You’d become a bit of a night owl, of course.

Meeting your mom sparks your own nerves. It’s only been two weeks since you last saw her and told her everything. She had barely survived the shock of your slowly changing ears and your tales. And you had barely survived the shock of learning that your father, though not half-fae, had someone far in his bloodline that was a part of the Summer Court once upon a time.

I always knew where my mother came from, you mother had whispered, watching you with haunted eyes. But after the loss of your father, it was easy to turn it all into dreams.

Years of frustration with her had melted in that moment. You could understand now, why she had thrown out your books of magic and fantasy. Why she had been steadfast in having Namjoon curate a normal experience for you in a normal world.

The thought of losing Jimin… well it inspires understanding. Sympathy.

You don’t expect your mother to accept your half-in-her-world-half-out approach right away. And she doesn’t. The tightening of her mouth and the strain in her voice during that conversation was evident. She doesn’t want this for you and yet, she knows it’s in your nature.

Like me, once she had said. Like your grandparents and your father.

Now that you’re intimately familiar with the fae, you can see those traits in your mother. When she enters the café, she commands the room the same way Jimin had. She is sharply beautiful, with angular features that would look strange on anyone else. But her chic style and eye for aesthetics lends itself to the powerhouse of her beauty.

The chair scrapes sharply against the brick patio as you shoot to your feet. Jimin looks up at you, frowning as you ring your hands nervous as your mother approaches. For Jimin, this is a new version of you. One that is timid and awkward.

You’d never really been timid with him, even when you were afraid.

“Hi,” you greet your mother, voice high-pitched and reedy. Her gaze is sharp as a blade as she regards Jimin, lips pursed. She ripples with tension as she hesitates at the chair across from you. “It’s nice to see you.”

Jimin stands and walks around your chair, surprising you both. He bows at the waist, not a full ninety-degree angle but deeper than the king of the High Court should to anyone – especially a mortal. He looks up at your mother, a gentle smile on his lips and eyes glittering.

“It’s an honor to meet you. Thank you for taking the time to meet me.”

She looks down her nose at him, eyes narrowing a second before she nods and pulls her chair out. “Of course.” Her tone is tight, but it softens a bit when she looks at you, lips twitching in an almost-smile. “It’s not every day your only child runs off to her grandmother’s native land and comes back with a boyfriend.”

Jimin settles next to you and sips his water. “Mate.”

Her eyes narrow at him, unperturbed. “I heard stories about you as a child. Boyfriend will do for now.”

You hold your breath as Jimin swallows his water and places the glass on the table. Though he has come a long way with his biting wit and razorblade attitude, there is a moment of tension before he bows his head. “I like you, I think.”

With a humph your mother picks up a menu. “We will see if you suffice.”

Letting out relieved laughter, you lean back as Jimin slides a hand on your thigh and gives you a squeeze. You realize everything is going to be okay.

The throne room of the High Court needs work. The dais of diamond is scuffed, the glass throne has long since been shattered and gathered dust, and the floor to ceiling windows of glass with gold inlaid art have long since been broken, covered in grime, or cracked. Though Jimin’s court – and by association your court – is slowly coming together and there are fae returning to restore their homelands, it’s slow work.

Which means the throne room simply won’t due for an audience, which dampens the dramatic flair you wanted for your upcoming meeting. Nonetheless, the study that you’ve discovered tucked in a corner overlooking a flowing stream and garden is just as well.

Today, the windows are cast open. It’s light and airy, with a fresh breeze spinning the spider silk curtains and airing out the smell of old books. There are hundreds of tomes in the shelving that line the walls, in languages and symbols you can’t begin to read.

Though small, the study is beautiful. An ornate desk of gold with curling, filigree designs stands in the middle over a blush rug. Like everything in the High City, the palace is made of floor to ceiling windows of spelled glass and diamond.

It’s like the world is spun in gold, Jimin whispered as he led you through the palace, all clear ceiling and gold chandeliers.

Behind you, the afternoon sun throws the room in a shade of rose and pomegranate. It’s warm at your back where you stand behind your desk with your arms linked behind your back, chin set. A fine set of china sits on the desk, the teapot steaming with the scent of rose and lemon.

A knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts. You tell them to come in, lifting your chin a bit as the double doors swing open to reveal a set of guards and your visitor for the next hour.

Seokjin looks beautiful as ever, sweeping into the room in his all black, the sigil of his court stitched in silvery finery over the heart of his tunic. His hair has gotten longer and you see twinkling stars throughout the inky strands.

Stopping just short of your desk, Seokjin links his hands behind his back. He looks healthy, golden skin glowing and dark eyes swimming with fathomless cosmos that did not exist when he was possessed not long ago. Now you see the endless night in them, the dark fire of being a Shade, the whispers of the sky.

Neither one of you speaks, regarding one another. Seokjin is a king – the stars in his hair, though blinking in and out of existence like sentient beings - is crown enough. Your guards close the door and though you cannot see beyond the broad frame of the Night Court king, you can sense his Dreadwolf in the hall.

“You look well,” you offer, voice even. Seokjin gives away nothing. “Would you like some tea?”

“No bow?”

Your smile is razor thin – a trait you’ve picked up from Jimin at court. “I could ask you the same. You’re in my home at my behest. However, if it pleases the Night Court’s pride to be addressed so formally…” You dip slightly, not quite at a forty-five-degree angle, but close enough. “Welcome to the High Court, King Seokjin.”

His lips twitch, so minute you almost don’t catch it, but you sense he almost smiles. “You’ve spent far too long with Jimin.”

“You’d have bowed to him first.”

“You are my court until you marry him.”

It’s hard not to wince. It is technically true. You’re the granddaughter of Yvaine, and a member of the Night Court. The only Shade the Night Court has, beyond the king who currently stares at you with a knowing glint in his eye.

“Would you like tea?” you sigh, gesturing to the steaming pot. “It’s your favorite.”

“Trying to win me over?”

“I don’t have to,” you fold your dress against your legs and sit. You flick your eyes to the seat in front of your desk and he tentatively does the same, not quite leaning against the back of the chair. “You wouldn’t have come here if you didn’t agree with me.”

“I thought it would be a funny little adventure.”

You pour him a cup, rose and lemon filling the room. “You can needle me all you want, but you know just as well as I do that you have to name me heir.”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

“No, I suppose that might be true. But with the rumblings of how close your court was to losing you, you having no heirs, and the fact that Jungkook can serve me because my bloodline is enough…” You tsk at him. “Your options aren’t great. So needle me all you want, Seokjin. But like calls to like, and in both blood and bone, the Midnight Tree recognizes me as the heir to your throne.”

“Why are you so interested in being named heir, hmm? Looking to continue Malik’s work with Jimin and impose your authority on the other courts again, starting with you claim to my throne?” He takes the tea and blows over it. You watch the water ripple, sensing magic. You roll your eyes – you’d never poison him. “Whatever will the other courts think?”

“They think that Jimin and his mate fought to dispel an evil from this land, saved the Night Court from obliteration when their king was at risk, and that the High Court would never do something as stupid as a conquest while they are weak and rebuilding.”

“So that’s it. You’re weak and need allies.”

“We have allies.” You feel the thunder in your voice. “You need allies, Seokjin. And I offer this meeting as a courtesy. Naming me heir does nothing for my court. My status does not change – I am the mate to the king of the High Court, I am a Shade of the Night Court, and they call me Cythraul’s Bane these days. What does title to heir of a court I don’t desire offer me?”

Seokjin sips the tea as his jaw works. You watch him with a flat expression, giving away nothing. The truth is – there is something in it for you to be named heir. You can rightfully claim the things that once belonged to your grandmother – heirlooms, houses, lands that you can sell for things that the High Court now needs.

But Seokjin doesn’t need to know that you’re looking for this title for nostalgia and money purposes. You and Jimin have already worked this out – Seokjin needs you more you need him. He needs the protection of an heir that wants nothing to do with his throne, the commitment to the Shade bloodline, and the security of hushing rumors that his little half-niece is stronger than he is.

Seokjin sets the cup on the desk. “You pick up the game fast.”

“I had a trial by shadow fire.” You don’t miss the opportunity to throw the world play in there, to barb him. Even as loose allies, you’re not friends. There is too much estrangement there. “You live an eternity. You have time to think about it.”

He hums. “I’ll consider it.”

It’s as close as a concession as you’ll get from him. So you smile, full of teeth when you lean back in your seat, pleased. “Tell Jungkook to come in. I’ve grown fond of him since he nearly ripped your head off at the Battle at High Tree.”

Night lily blooms in the dark green house that Jimin has given you in an empty, and otherwise unneeded room in the palace. Though it took a lot of troubleshooting – and a lot of Jimin’s help – you were finally able to suspend the room in night.

Of course, it isn’t night like the Night Court. It is artificial night, powered by a crystal that feeds off as much magic as you put inside of it to mirror the magic of the Night Court that lives inside of you. It’s a bit of clever channeling that requires a tiny amount of energy, but it makes you happy.

Especially when you see flowers from the night court with their glow in the dark throats and speckled petals, and dripping neon sap. Your heart squeezes as you grin at the lilies, straightening up from your crouch just as someone comes in.

You turn to look over your shoulder as a figure slips into the room, a single orb of fae light leading them down the dark, twisted hallways that lead beneath the castle. Namjoon grins when he sees that you’re not so in the dark as it appeared, extinguishing his light.

“Hi!” you gush, running up to him. With Namjoon, you don’t have to be the king’s consort. You’re not an heir. Or a Shade, or a bane of anything. You’re just you and Namjoon is just Namjoon, who smells like vanilla and spice when you throw your arms around him, holding him tight. “I missed you.”

Namjoon, as it turns out, is hundreds of years old. He was one of your grandfather’s best friends, and watched over him when Oberon and your grandmother left Faerie long ago. Namjoon’s ever watchful eye turned into more as he discovered the wonder of the human world.

At first, you had been angry with Namjoon. Angry for deceiving you, angry for altering your memories, angry for… so many things that you realize now, he was asked to do by a friend he had known for a lifetime, only to watch that friend die suddenly. For your grandmother, who was the last familiar face.

For your mother, who begged him to give you once chance at normal.

Though it hadn’t worked out, you were enjoying not normal. And you were happy to discover that Namjoon was no different in Faerie than he was in the human world, loving the ancient tombs of the library, tending to plants in the Citadel and studying the High Tree.

A member of the Summer Court he might be, but Namjoon is a roving Faerie at heart, who has found far too many things like e-books and newspapers and museums in the human world. He is fascinated by the moral ability to ache and hurt and make music, write and paint in such small amounts of time compared to eternity.

But he still visits. Like today, when you promised that you would show him the night garden you had been working on.

Letting you go, Namjoon holds you at arm’s length, two dimple popping out proudly as he smiles down at you. “Come on,” he says eagerly, shaking you a bit. “Show me what you’ve grown.”

Night in the High Court isn’t eternal, but it’s beautiful. Millions of stars paint the sky, thousands of collars and so close, you feel as though you could reach your hand up to touch them. You can see them now, flittering through the glass ceiling of the recently-finished throne room.

You’re not much for sitting on the throne. It feels ridiculous and a bit tedious to sit in an opulent room made for appearances. Well – you are working. You’ve been sharing audiences with Jimin all day, listening to the rapidly growing members of his court and trying to settle land disputes, claims to long-abandoned homes, problems with infrastructure, nixies gone wild.

The usual.

Though you find it anxiety-inducing, hearing all of these problems that the people Jimin’s court are plagued with regularly. Jimin sits in these all day. While you move about the High Court’s lands on his behalf and work with the new citizens and repairing parts of the palace, Jimin almost never leaves the throne.

You admire the way he will sit there for hours. He never cuts anyone off, he never dismisses a single person who wishes to speak with him, and Jimin lets none of the lords wishing to reclaim lands that aren’t theirs push him around.

Now, you watch as a centaur bows deeply before turning to leave the room, having been granted a larger pasture for his heard, who had been defending it for a long time once the cythraul began to come through the High Tree.

When the double doors to the throne room boom closed, and the guards bow deeply at Jimin’s dismissal, your mate finally melts into the chair, eyes closed, head pressed to the high back. Exhaustion weights heavy on him, despite how beautifully he’s dressed today.

A midnight blue tunic hangs artfully on his frame, the chest cut low to reveal tawny, smooth skin. He has necklaces on, little stars and moons and hourglasses that you’ve found all over the High Court. It seems that time and rotating spheres of planes and universes are a popular motif, and you’ve since learned that with his full powers of the High Court, Jimin is able to perform magic far beyond that of the Night Court.

Freezing objects in time in space – though he can’t freeze time itself yet – aging things forward and backward. Sensing portals and dimensions and becoming energy sensitive are all things that he remembered when he was much younger, but is once again trying to grow into.

Leaning over the arm of the chair, you brush your fingers through his silver locks. He’s grown out his hair substantially. It’s pushed back by a silver circlet with the seven stars of the courts, and an earring catches the moonlight as he tilts his head to lean into your touch.

Jimin almost purrs under the gentle raking of your nails against his scalp. He quivers under your touch, head lolling to the side as he lets go completely. You grin, seeing how much your tired king reacts to your touch.

It’s hard to get over.

“Come on,” you whisper. He whines when your hand drops from his hair and you stand. “Don’t out, it’s beneath you.”

He’s pout increases, bottom lip stuck out as he looks up at you with glossy, green eyes. Jimin has a talent for switching between a doe-eyed sweetling and a siren-eyed vixen at a moment’s notice, something that he increasingly weaponizes against you. Not that you mind.

“It’s not,” he assures.

“Fine, remain seated on your throne. I’ll just run myself a hot lavender and orange blossom bath while you- “

Jimin brushes past you, his steps silent and gait smooth like a dancer. You love the way he spins around to face you, a grin on his face. He moves through the world like a velvet ribbon, graceful and elegant as is common among the fae.

“Thought so,” you grumble as he offers you a hand and a smile.

Coming up with a palace staff is difficult. It isn’t like the Night Court, where there have been generations of faerie loyal to Jimin and the royal family. The old staff members of Malik’s court were few and far between after the collapse of the High City, and those who remain haven’t known Jimin for a long time.

Earning trust among the fae is not common. So the palace staff is small, mostly made up of allies that he made when he was in the Night Court, and a few High Court faeries who were recommended by Hoseok and even Seokjin.

Then there is, of course, the occasional Nightingale who appear and disappear on a schedule you don’t yet understand, but has been put in place by Yoongi and Khione to assure that you aren’t murdered in your sleep.

You don’t hear from them much, but you did come to your room one day to find a mysterious tomb on the history of the Night Court, it’s laws and practices that you used in your battle of wits with Seokjin. It did not have a note, but there was an unmistakable symbol that you could not remember the shape of the moment you looked away from it.

Khione, though maybe not a friend, is an excellent ally.

The palace, like the rest of the city, sits on a network of moving bodies of water. There are pools and caverns underneath the building that have pools of water that move slowly into the large lakes beyond the city limit, and over the waterfall that empties from the basin where the Citadel lives.

Because of the easy access to water, the palace has its own unique plumbing and water filtration system that turned on when Jimin poured his magic back into the High Tree. It’s like the entire place was built by a maker to respond to the magic of those who live inside of it.

That is, at least, what you gathered from Yoongi’s explanation of the building.

Inside of the en suite bathroom is rough-cut crystal dub, hewn into the floor of the bathroom. You have to be careful getting in and out of the steps once wet, but the rose quartz glows warmly when you enter and tap one of the gold spouts. Water spits from it immediately, rushing hot and steaming to fill the deep tub.

Jimin stands staring in the doorway, too tired to do much beyond admire the way you pop open a jar of salts to pour it under the running water. Next, you dig out dried lavender, sprinkling it over the filling tub, following by dried orange rinds.

You glance over your shoulder at Jimin, his eyes cat-like in their study of you. You beckon him over with a finger. He doesn’t hesitate, drifting toward you wordlessly before stopping right in front of you, looking down through full lashes as you begin to untie the two strings that hold together the collar of his shirt.

“What’s the point of the strings if you keep such an open collar anyway?” you muse, letting your fingertips brush over his warm skin. His breath stutters slightly and you smile. “Are they really there for modesty?”

“You’ll have to ask Rika.” You drop the strings and push the shirt backward over his shoulder. It falls down his middle and waist, before dropping to the floor. “I’m not in the artistry of making clothes.”

“Hmm. You give them ideas. I see you down in their little studio sometimes, pouring over sketches.”

Jimin’s skin is perfect. He is golden and warm, flesh smooth under your fingertips as you brush your hands down his chest and over is stomach. You poke his soft flesh and he flexes, making you giggle and slap his abdomen lightly.

“Show off,” you huff, fingering the button on his trousers. “Don’t flex your muscles for me.”

“I thought you liked them.”

“As insufferable as your personality can be, I rather like that instead.”

With a sharp movement, you pull Jimin’s trousers down. He’s in linen undershorts, like briefs but not. And he’s semi-hard just from your teasing touches and words. Jimin notices you looking at his clothed cock and grins. You go read, realizing your mistake when he grabs you by the chin and pulls your face toward his.

“Huh,” he clucks, nose brushing yours. He’s so close that his lips touch yours when he speaks, your gasp swallowing his words. “I think you like something entirely inappropriate.”

“Entirely untrue. Faeries don’t lie.”

Jimin half laughs, half growls as he kisses you.

The kiss is scorching, his mouth hungry and all-consuming as Jimin licks into your mouth. You moan in surprise against him, tilting backward with the force of his onslaught but his hands are on your waist, already hiking up the fabric of your dress as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth.

Kissing Jimin makes you dizzy. He always kisses you like his survival depends on it, sometimes slow and sometimes fast, but always starving for you and wanting more. He makes little sounds of desperation between the kisses, catching his breath in pitchy tones that drive you absolutely wild.

Jimin’s hands feel like heaven when they grip the soft flesh of your inner thigh, massaging and pulling you close to him as he peppers your jaw and throat with kisses. Each one leaves a wet trail fresh on your skin, more tongue and teeth now that you’ve ignited the want in him.

It’s hard not to let him rip the dress you have on, made of dark blue silk with cape shoulders and silver broaches at the shoulders. When you convinced him to gently take it off, his movements grow softer, more reverent than greedy.

“In,” you laugh between the wet smack of your mouths. “You need to relax.”

“I’m wide fucking awake now.”

“Be wide awake in the bath. Let me take care of you.”

It wins him over. Jimin doesn’t take his eyes off you as he bends down and pulls his briefs off. From your peripheral, you can see his cock spring against his stomach, dark tip swollen and begging for attention with pearls of precum.

You’re torn between wanting to drop your eyes to his cock as he stands and watches you peel your slip off, nipples hardening in the cool air under his heated gaze, but you keep your eyes on his. You could lose yourself in those deep, green pools.

“What?” Jimin asks, hint of a laugh in his voice. “Why do you look like that?”

“Like what?”

“You have moon eyes.”

You flush, feeling warm beyond the heat of lust. “I just love you.”

Jimin gets a look on his face for a moment, one you don’t understand. For a split second you feel insecure about the admission, standing naked in front of him and telling him that. But the next, the anxiety is gone as he scoops you from the floor, making you squeal as he steps into the warm water and sits down in it carefully.

Water laps over the side, the smell of lavender and orange filling your senses as you breath in. Jimin flicks his finger toward the faucet and the water stops – a trick you have yet to manage – and leans back against the rose wall of the tub, pulling you with him.

Your knees scrape lightly against the rough bottom but you don’t care, coming alive under Jimin’s touch as he settles you over his waist. You can feel his heavy cock brushing your stomach as you straddle him, shotting a thrill through you.

For now, he seems intent on swallowing you whole again, bringing wet hands to tangle in your hair and yank your mouth flush against his.

The mixture of warm water, Jimin’s touch and the gentle brush of his tongue makes your brain fuzzy. You float as you kiss him, your fingers knotting in the hair at the back of his neck, holding him close.

Slowly, you lower yourself a little more, grinding on his cock. You both whine in between spit-slicked kisses, a shudder going through you as you seek friction on his velvety shaft. You’re dripping for him, making the glide even easier as you roll your lips lazily, smiling against his mouth when he lets out a loud curse.

Jimin’s hands go to your waist, submerging under the water. He doesn’t take control, but his grip is hard, dimpling your skin as he grips onto you, letting you tease both of you. It feels like you’re tingling all over, heat rushing through your veins. His cock head nudges your clit and you let out a wanton sound, letting your forehead fall against his shoulder, slick with water and sweat from the heat of the water.

“Fuck,” Jimin rasps, lips pressed to your ear. His tongues snakes out, licking your lobe playfully. “Fuck please don’t tease me.”

“Oh, am I teasing you?”

“Enaid.”

The name shivers through you, a ripple of love and a million other feelings. You reach a hand down between you, firmly grabbing him in your hand, giving his cock a gentle squeeze as you lightly stroke him.

When Jimin is at your mercy, he sounds so beautiful. He leans is head back, face tilted toward the ceiling, mouth open to let sighs escape through pillowy lips. You watch him, the way his neck has light pink splotches as he grows flushed, thighs twitching underneath you as you pump him.

A grin spreads over your face. Seeing him like this is your favorite. Hair presses against his temples and he squeezes his eyes shut, trying not to lose himself entirely to your hand.

Thankfully, you don’t make him wait longer.

The crown of his cock catches your aching hole and you hiss between your teeth, ring of muscles clenching as you slowly sink down on him. It feels like you can’t breathe, every inch of his thickness stretching you to the max until you’re seated and he’s fully sheathed in your fluttering walls.

It takes quick breaths to adjust, your panting against his neck earning a hum from him as his fingers dig painfully into your hips. “Fuck,” he whispers. “So fucking tight.”

“Feels fucking full.”

“Yeah?” he mouths messily at the side of your jaw, voice a low whisper as he says, “Fuck yourself on my cock, baby. Make me feel good.”

Your eyes nearly roll back in your head at the request. Leaning away from him, you put your hands on his shoulders for balance, slowly rolling your hips into a languid rhythm. You can barely breathe at the feel of him inside of you, so fucking deep that you can think of nothing but Jimin.

There’s no rush. Jimin lets you find a pace you like, picking up speed when you feel comfortable enough. It feels divine, the way your walls hug his length, the way his tip hits deep inside of you. You laugh a bit, head dropping back as you sink down on him again.

“Hmmm?”

You moan his name as you take a moment to gather enough thoughts to answer his question, most coherency scattered to the wind. “Feels like you’re in my stomach,” it comes out whiny and pitchy. “It feels really fucking good.”

“Keep going, baby. You look so fucking beautiful like this.”

Jimin leans forward, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking generously. You give a high-pitched squeal, the stimulation adding as you grind yourself on him, clit rubbing against his pelvis. You’re dizzy and overheated, Jimin focused on flicking his tongue devilishly around your pert bud, your eyes rolling back in your head.

Fucking Jimin always feels different. Even at this lazy pace, you feel like you’re going to fucking lose your mind. An orgasm gathers deep in your stomach, a swollen raincloud looming in the distance. You move a little harder on him now, water splashing over the side of the tub as you increase the size of your movements.

“Fingers,” you beg him as he lavishes your tits. He pulls his mouth away with a lewd pop, looking up at you with swollen lips and glassy eyes. “Please.”

He understands. Jimin’s mouth meets yours, a messy exchange of moans and spit. It’s sloppy but it’s good, especially as his hand slides down your abdomen, fingers finding your clit. You gasp into his mouth as he applies gentle pressure, slowly circling your bundle of nerves until you’re shaking on top of him, barely able to keep it together.

Jimin senses your coming apart, increasing his attention on your clit as he begins nipping the column of your throat, sharp teeth pinching your skin, rough tongue laving over it to sooth the sting.

“Shit,” you gasp, shaking above him. “Gonna – fuck.”

“Come on,” Jimin urgers. He plants his feet on the bottom of the tub, helping you as he thrusts gently up into you. “Come all over me.”

Hiding your face in his neck, you feel your orgasm open up on you. You clench hard, muscles clenching and a scream working its way out of you. You shudder in Jimin’s arms as he fucks you gently, letting you ride your orgasm, shaking and crying in his lap.

It sends him over the edge, Jimin curses and crashing his mouth with yours, sucking your tongue into his mouth greedily. You meet him with the same hunger, so fucking overwhelmed with the heat of his desire for you, for the way he makes you feel, for the way he whimpers your name between teeth and tongue.

As you come down, you catch your breath in his arms. He leans his head back, letting you lay against his neck, just trying to level yourself again. It always takes a bit, trying to come back down from the post-orgasm bliss. Jimin responds in kind, eyes closed, hand drifting up and down your spine.

“I love you,” he murmurs, eyes still close. Your eyes flutter open, looking up at him. “And I like when you look at me like that. So keep doing it.”

You laugh and close your eyes, just happy where you are. “Okay.”

Another day closes with you in Jimin’s arm, and your forever grateful for that one ring in your grandmother’s attic.

Previous Chapter

#jimin smut #park jimin smut #jimin bts smut #bts smut #jimin fanfic #park jimin fanfic #faerie jimin #minors dni #minors do not interact #park jimin x reader #jimin x reader #jimin x you

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amive2567 · 1 year

Note

idk how to do this todoroki hot chocolate cuddling stuff idk ok its 6 in the morning and I've been up for 30 hours

Ingreadients: Shoto Todoroki x gn!Reader, Toya Todoroki (Dabi) x gn!Reader, Natsuo Todoroki x gn!Reaer, Fuyumi Todoroki x gn!Reader Contains: cute cuddles, mention of spiders, tiny argument, overworking, not really proofread Type of order: hot chocolate (fluff), macarons (headcanonss), bubble tea (request) A/N: You've been up for 30hours?! Jeez I hope you can finaly get some sleep soon. Don't overwork yourself please. Thank you for your request. I didn't know which Todoroki you ment so I wrote something for the whole bunch of siblings. ❤

Shoto Todoroki:

you were just tired and all you wanted to do is to cuddle up with your boyfriend of the couch

tiredly you stepped through the door of your apartment, you undressed your shoes and walked into the kitchen to get yourself something to eat

the shower could be heard and you knew that Shoto was showering right now (obviously)

He must have come home a bit earlier than you

You stood there in the kitchen exhausted, but now you wanted to cook your boyfriend a nice meal

thawed food was not the stuff you wanted to eat right now and delivery food just didn’t suited the situation now you thought

you sorted out all the ingredients for some good old easy fried rice

while you prepared everything and started cooking you boyfriend entered the kitchen

“Welcome home, love.” he hummed and hugged you from behind

he was just as tired as you were

“Hi, honey. How was your day?” you asked, while attempting to hide your tiredness

“Tiring. We only had paperwork and it was boring.” he mumbled and nuzzled his head in the crook in your neck

he became comfortable to physical touch after years of your relationship and everytime he was tired he acted like the touch starved boy he is

“When are you done with cookin? I wanna cuddle.” he mumbled pouting.

“It’s almost done.'' We will eat something and then we can cuddle. I really need some cuddle time right now.”

After the food was finished you ate

After that you changed into your sleep attire and went to bed

“Now is cuddle time.” you announced and Shoto immediately wrapped his arms around you tightly

You could hear his heartbeat and it was just perfectly calming

Your hands massaged his scalp and he sighed relaxed

“You are the most perfect partner. I am so thankful for you.” he whispered into the darkness of the room

your heart swelled with love, but taking and replying to compliments was still hard

“Says you. You make me feel alive, like I can finally be myself again. Thank you for being there after a horrible day.”

The serenity filled the room

He shuffled towards your face and kissed you on the cheek

“My love, we should go to sleep now after this exhausting day.”

You knew him so well you new his cheeks were blushed

“You’re right. Goodnight, I love you.”

“I love you more, love”

Toya/Dabi Todoroki:

The heist went wonderful and all of you went back into your hiding

“Go to sleep, we will discuss our next mission tomorrow.” grumbled Shigaraki

“Sleep well shiggy.” hummed Toga as she walked to her room

The other ones also disappeared and Dabi finally talked to you again

“What the fuck were you thinking? Kurogiri nearly needed to take you to this motherfucker Overhaul.” he tried not to scream, but it was still to loud

“I just protected you.” you shrugged your shoulders and went into your shared room

“You risked getting caught and hurt. The heroes don’t give a damn about our lives. You could have fucking died.” he yelled by now

You felt guilty and you tried to avoid his gaze

He put his fingers under your chin and made you look up to him

“‘m sorry, but I can’t lose you. You’re the first person to make me feel like I am worth something and not a total loser. I just need you, you are my real family.”

You didn’t know what to say or what to think, so you just hugged him

He also wrapped his hands around your waist and kissed your head

“You’re not going to lose me. We live a risky life, but I will stay by your side. Always” you mumbled at his chest

You stayed like this for sometime, but your legs got tired

“Can we lay down, my leg is still hurting?”

He simply nodded and carried you on the slowly crumbling bed

He never interrupted his touch on your body

Even after you fall asleep, he still hugged you

Natsuo Todoroki:

The energies, the coffee and the zero sleep made i hard to concentrated on the book in front of you

The illustrations and letters were just one colorful soup on paper

You stopped reading and walked to the dorm of your boyfriend

Health students were the unlucky ones who had to have classes until afternoon

So you could maybe take a quick nap in his room

BUt as you entered his room he was already there

“Had a good day, babe?” he asked you as you entered

You just shook your head and instantly set on his lap

“Sweety, you should really take more care of yourself. Drinking coffee and energys doesn’t help you with studying.”

he stroked your back soothingly

“I am just so stressed. Everybody has good grades and I am just passing. I want to be better.”

“But you’re destroying yourself. The grates of the others don’t matter as long as you are healthy it’s alright. Passing is pretty great in college. You are such a smart person. Besides that (your major) is a pretty hard subject, you will be fine.”

You hummed in disbelief, but didn’t wanted to argue, since Natsuo always had his way to cheer you up

He would be a great doctor in the future

He hugged you tighter and hummed a song to you

With every second you grew more tired and you finally drifted off to sleep

Fuyumi Todoroki:

The kids finally were able to go home and Fuyumi waved them goodbye

She got her bag and papers and also left the school

You've been waiting a few minutes to pick her up from her work, just like every day

She opened the door of the car and entered it

“Hey, honey. How was your day? Did the kids pay attention?” you asked her with a bright smile

“Hey. They were playing a prank today and put a fake spider into my desk.” she smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes

“Oh no. Nasty children. Are you alright? They didn't meant to scare you that badly I assumed.” You patted her back awkwardly in the small car

“It’s fine. I just want to go home”

you drove off and got her home

Accompanied by a pleasant silence you entered the apartment

“Lets forget about the day and just cuddle on the couch.” you said and walked towards the coll leather sofa

“But what about..” she started, but you silenced her with a kiss. “That can wait. We can do it tomorrow.”

You guided her towards the couch and put a blanket around you two

“Are you comfortable?” you asked and she nodded in response

You held her close and creased through her white hair

“I hate spiders. I was so frightened.”

“I know darling. Tell your students please that they should never pull another prank like that.”

Your grip tightened around her

You just wanted her to finally feel safe

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not-your-damsel · 1 year

Text

Indiscretion

Indiscretion - in·dis·cre·tion :: /indəˈskreSH(ə)n/ noun • Behavior or speech that is indiscreet or displays a lack of good judgment. Alternatively can be synonymous or associated with - A loss of innocence…

Who? :: GuardianAngel!Keigo Takami/Hawks x Fem!Reader, IncubusDemon!Hitoshi Shinsou x Fem!Reader

WC :: 3,051

AN :: M¡nors DN¡ (I check every like and reblog), if you’re religious or a person of faith, this may not be for you. This chaptered series is going to involve angelology and demonology amongst other topics and things. I don’t want complaints or messages that I’m going to hell, you’ve already been warned so, save the pearl clutching for something actually worthwhile - like real world issues (눈_눈 ) That aside, I hope you all had a gentle holiday season and a happy new year 🥳

⚠️ :: Again, religious content, and a relatively benign wet dream lol. Aka, nothing but good ‘ol dream seggs ૮( ♥️ﻌ♥️)ა

‼️:: Catch and Release part 3 is being worked on, I needed to overhaul the beginning because an idea struck me and I needed to add it. It’s coming, not to worry!

Artist :: I tried to find who this artist was as I found this on Pinterest. If anyone knows or has any idea, please let me know so I can reach them and give proper credit. And, if you know the context/meaning of the very famous, original painting this one is based on, well then, you’re already ahead of the game now, aren’t’cha? ( 눈 ᴗ 눈)

Very Human Feelings • Ch. 1

You weren’t sure when you started finding feathers randomly throughout your apartment. You’d initially thought they were coming from your down comforter and pillows but, that idea left you when you noticed how pristine white they were. You didn’t think you’d seen a more stark shade before in your life. Not only were they an unnatural shade of white, they were quite large, too. None of the feathers in your comforter and pillows were that large nor that white.

It had been going on for a little over a month when you spotted one next to your bed after coming home from work one evening. Only this feather was slightly longer than your forearm - from fingertip to just past your elbow. By now you were worried. How could a feather that long, that beautiful, have ended up perfectly at the side of your bed? As you held it, you pondered, running your fingernail back and forth, grazing against the spine of the feather before your eyes went wide and you stood still. That’s when you heard it. As you sat frozen in place, your eyes grew wide at the thought that someone was in your safe spot, your home. It sounded like someone gasped in your apartment. Your hand that was holding the feather was now shaking as tears lined the rims of your eyes.

“H-hello?”

You felt stupid. Who willingly calls out into their dimly lit apartment to the very probable bogey man intruder? Twiddling the feather between your fingers, you took a few tentative steps outside your bedroom, head looking from side to side. Stepping out into the living room you let your eyes take a fleeting sweep across the place. Nothing. Tiptoeing into the kitchen also revealed the same. That left one more room to check, the scariest one if you were honest. Taking care to not step on the floorboards you knew would creak and groan, you made your way to the bathroom to check once more.

Flicking on the light showed there was nothing, no one you could see or sense but, that left your shower which could be a likely hiding spot. With a gulp and a shaky hand reaching for the curtain, you swiftly pulled it back as though ripping off a bandaid to get it over and done with. You flinched back, your eyes squeezed shut in anticipation. But, when nothing happened, you slowly opened your eyes and again, saw nothing. Nothing but an empty and well kept shower that you had cleaned the other day. Could you have been hearing things after a long day of working the museum? That was very likely.

You walked back into your bedroom and placed the new feather in the vase with all the other ones you’d found throughout your apartment during the past month. You were impressed that this new feather was taller than the vase as it hung off the side of it, making a new decorative piece in your room. You sighed as you eyed your collection. Maybe unwinding from the day would do you some good. After having an uneasy shower, you made your way to your bed, turning down the blankets before diving into your comfy sanctuary for a night of much needed sleep.

Letting out a yawn that made your eyes tear, you reached over to your night table for your bottle of melatonin gummies. Popping a couple in your mouth, you chewed them, the strawberry flavor a pleasant taste in your mouth as you closed the bottle back up. Placing it down on your night table once more, you reached for your tablet to continue reading the latest web comic you were infatuated with. You were hoping to get to the bombshell of a reveal they had been hinting at the last few chapters.

Well, it hardly mattered because within a half an hour you were knocked out with the tablet laying against your ribs just under your breasts when a hand reached out to grab it from your limp grasp. Golden eyes monitored the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed differently in sleep, slower, gentler, watching for any change that would indicate that you were stirring. As his large hand griped the tablet, your head suddenly moved, turning from right to left as you adjusted. The man standing next to you stilled while half his body became invisible, incredibly large white wings behind his back fluffed out as he panicked. Once you stilled again, he detected your breathing had gone back into its slow rhythm of sleep. He willled his body to become visible once more as he quickly grabbed your tablet off you, plugging it in to charge as he’s watched you do hundreds of times before, placing it down on your night table before retreating back to the reading nook bench you had made in the deep window sill.

He watched you as you slept, peace washing over him as the comfort of sleep overtook you. He’s been watching over you more than usual lately and he’s not entirely sure why, but, there was a nagging feeling he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Was it oncoming danger? Was it just an unnatural worry that his kind tended to harbor for their wards? He just didn’t know. All he knew was that he needed to watch over you, and if that meant he needed to skip out on some key meetings up in the Heavenly Realm, so be it. He was fine with that. He was assigned to you, he’d see his job through in making sure you were safe as he silently nodded to himself.

“Keigo?”

Golden eyes widened as his snowy white wings flared out into dangerously sharp points.

“Relax, it’s me, Raphael.”

Keigo relaxed a little, rising from his place in your reading nook to meet the new entity who appeared in your bed room.

“Hey, what’s going on? Why are you here?”

Raphael sighed with a roll of his eyes.

“Are you kidding me? You missed the big meeting and Dad’s very mad about it.”

Keigo’s shoulders slumped s little, head hung low to not meet sharp blue eyes.

“I’m sorry but, I had something important to attend to. I’ll make it up to Him, I’ll go speak to Him directly.”

Raphael’s own wings shook in disapproval.

“Something important? Something important, Keigo? What in the blazes are you thinking?!”

“Would you shut your mouth, Raph?! She’s sleeping!!”

“She cannot hear us!!! Oh. Oh! You have got to be kidding me, Keigo.”

Keigo’s head tilted to the side, straw blonde hair moving with him.

“You remember what happened to Samyaza, right? Right?!”

Raphael was now leaning towards Keigo, anger etched into his features.

“What happens to angels who get too close to their wards?”

Keigo’s eyes widened, darting between your sleeping form and Raphael in worry.

“I-it it it it's not like that! I just have a feeling is all, I-!”

“You have a feeling? What kind of feeling?”

Keigo hated feeling like he was being picked apart, especially under Raphael’s gaze. He was a respectable, high ranking angel who always carried out his work with the quickest efficiency that always yielded nothing but the best results.

“I-I… I just feel like something bad is going to happen is all. That’s it, nothing more.”

Raphael took this time to look Keigo over, looking for any hint that he could be lying to him. He detected nothing. Keigo knew he was using his power on him, looking deep into his heart for any lies being told. Raphael let out a quick breath, thankful he was telling him the truth.

“Hmm. And you were going to report your feelings when?”

“When I was absolutely sure.”

Raphael looked around the room, seeing your sleeping form completely undisturbed at the fact that they were in your space having a slight argument. Blue eyes continued to look around before falling on the vase filled with Keigo’s feathers.

“You’ve been here a lot. Too much.”

Keigo followed his gaze and froze.

“Only to serve as a lookout in case of danger.”

Raphael looked back at Keigo with dead seriousness in his eyes.

“You’re leaving traces of your - no, our existence in her home. You’ve left a feather that large around for her to see? Limit your time here, Keigo. I know she’s your ward, I know you care what happens to her, but, you need Dad’s permission to interfere should there even be a threat towards her. Yeah?”

Raphael’s look softened a little as Keigo listened to what he had to say,

“You’re my best friend, more importantly my brother, Keigs, even Uriel is worried about you. I don’t want to see you cast out of paradise at the expense of some… some human. Yeah, Dad loves them all to bits, but they're fallible, weak. They die easily. They’re both resilient and fragile all at the same time. Don’t follow in the footsteps of Samyaza and don’t even get me started on Lucifer. Our love of humans should only go so far after what happened all those millennia ago. Do not cross that line in chase of things we were never meant to have. Let the humans love one another and let us continue to do our work and interfere where and when we’re needed and focus on our own. C’mon, I see the way Zadkiel looks at you!”

Raphael placed a hand on Keigo’s shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah. Yeah, I get it. I mean, it’s not like that but, I get it and Zad’s got eyes for Galadriel. They’re a much better match. Is everything alright back home?”

He wanted to change the subject so badly, talk about anything other than why he’s been here in your apartment so much or Raph trying to get him together with Zadkiel for the umpteenth time.

“Well, some of the other angels have been talking about you. Some of them are starting some rumors that yours truly has gone and quashed, you’re welcome very much.”

“What? What are they saying?”

At this, Keigo was actually quite worried.

“Some are saying that you’re falling from grace because you’ve gone and fallen for a human. Some are even placing bets on the next time they see you that your wings will be darker than they last saw you - to see you brimming with sin.”

Keigo’s wings ruffled hearing this, fanning open and coming forward for a good look at them.

“But, they’re just fine! They know I’m a good worker!! I’d never throw my grace out for a human. For any human.”

“Well, why don’t you come back home with me now and put Dad’s worries at ease, then? Also, coming back with me will make our lower level brothers and sisters shut their mouths and have a lesson in doubting their elders. Dad would hate to see them doing such things like that anyway.”

Raphael grinned at Keigo, hand held out to him before a shimmery mist began forming behind his own beautifully large wings. Keigo looked from you back to Raphael and then back to you, not reaching to take Raph’s hand.

“Really?”

Keigo gave a charming angelic smile and declined.

“I’m not done here. I’ll head back home when I am, I promise.”

With a heavy sigh, Raphael dropped his hand and shook his head.

“Alright, man. Alright. But, don’t come and complain to me if Dad rips those wings off… one feather at a time.”

At that, Keigo winced. Raphael smiled sinisterly as for a brief moment thousands of individual eyes opened on each of his feathers, each one spinning around maniacally before Keigo sucked his teeth.

“I promise, I won’t. And stop trying to scare me, I’ll-I’ll handle Dad, don’t worry.”

Raphael closed every eye but the two on his face, winking to Keigo with a chuckle.

“Whatever you say, trouble maker. Later, baby brother.”

Keigo watched as Raphael stepped into the shimmery mist, disappearing entirely before the shimmers dissipated. He finally felt he could relax once more now that he was alone with you again. He’d headed back to his place to watch you sleep, alone with his thoughts. As the hours passed, he stayed watching you, golden eyes never leaving you as you turned and made sounds throughout the night.

At some point, you began making noises that Keigo had heard you make before. He knew what this meant, it seemed you had nightmares frequently. He got up and walked to the side of your bed, watching as your face changed slightly before an entirely different sound came out from you.

You moaned.

Keigo has never heard this sound from you and he immediately worried your nightmare was causing you pain. He reached a hand out, determined to have calm wash over you with his powers. As he’d done countless times before, he reached his hand to your head and began seeing into your mind, seeing your nightmare. Only, he suddenly flinched back as though electricity had shocked his hand.

“Agh!”

Sweat began to bead at his temples as he warred with himself to look into your mind again. Seemed it didn’t matter what he thought because his hand was already reaching out to your forehead without ever having checked in with him. As he’d done before, he began reading your mind and seeing your dream which he now knew wasn’t a nightmare.

Keigo watched as you were being bent over a kitchen counter that wasn’t your own - the whole place in your mind wasn’t one he knew at all. However, he did know the man who was actively thrusting into you so hard that he could hear the way your naked skin would squeak against the marble top as the force of it pushed you upwards. This man you were currently dreaming of is your now ex. Keigo had been there the day he had brought another woman into your apartment, into your bed where you had caught the two of them together. He was also there, standing next to you as you broke down and kicked both of them out, ending the relationship right then and there. He was proud of you back then, had hugged you when you dropped onto your couch after the scumbag left with his chosen sidepiece and you wept into your throw pillow. You hadn’t dated anyone since then, choosing to throw yourself headlong into your work and be more social with your friends instead and the change had done you some good in the long run. Then why in the hell were you dreaming about this absolute waste of space at a time like this? And so… so graphically, too?!

Keigo couldn’t rip his hand away from your forehead. It was as if some sort of force had glued his hand there and would not free it for anything. He watched as you moaned, driving yourself back to meet the man’s thrusts before he bowed over you, consuming you whole as his larger frame draped over you.

“Where do you want my cum? Hm? Tell me where you want it, baby.”

Your breathing was heavy along with his own and you managed to finally say something,

“Inside, fuck, please! Cum inside me!!”

Keigo watched as a devious grin spread across the man’s features before his head whipped over to the side, causing Keigo to take in a sharp breath.

“You watchin’, “Holy One”? Watch. This is gonna make her fuckin’ soaked. Too bad you can’t ever have a taste.”

Your ex reached an arm around to your front, toying with your clit. The moan you let out at that was porn worthy and Keigo’s mouth went dry as you began to slam yourself back to meet his harsh thrusts. Your ex turned his head once again to look Keigo in the eyes, glowing indigo irises meeting golden hues and with one last thrust, your ex grit his teeth and came inside you, his eyes rolling to the back of his head and causing you to whimper in reality. The sound had Keigo both focusing on your physical form while also still seeing your dream. In the physical world, you were now squeezing your thighs together, your hand balled with a fistful of your quilt. The man in the dream refocused and once again looked to where Keigo would’ve been standing, grinning before the dream started to dissipate entirely.

His hand finally left your head and he registered that he was all out of sorts. He’d never seen anything like that, hell, he’d never felt anything like that before and it worried him. But, worry wasn’t all that was there. He was startled, almost scared, his heart beating a mile a second as he breathed rapidly. Of course he knew of humans having sex. It was a giant piece to the pie of human life, to procreate. However, he’s never seen you with anyone, never heard you like that before. He’d always given you space in your “alone time”, so he’s never even been there for that and now he’s seen some very private part of you that he should’ve never seen. To be fair, he thought you were having another nightmare. And that man, your ex, was the cause of the majority of them. Which is why he didn’t understand why you were dreaming about him in this way to begin with.

There was a new feeling blooming within him that he didn’t even realize until he thought about it more. Was this… jealousy? Surely not. Angels cannot feel jealousy. Well, Lucifer did. And Morningstar ended up paying for it with the ultimate price: Being driven out of Paradise. His brother, his friend, was gone and had not been home since all those millennia ago. This new feeling made Keigo absolutely sick. He’d never wanted to fight a human before now and what he’s just seen was still replaying in his own mind.

“Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe for the first time ever, Dad has made a mistake and I’m not cut out to be a Guardian after all.”

Keigo went to sit down at the nook again, brilliant wings curled around him as he watched you again, this time taking you in quite differently than he had just a mere ten minutes ago. As he thought more about the dream, his newfound jealousy had turned into pure unadulterated anger. How had that sleaze known where Keigo was viewing from? And the more he thought about it, the more it became clear that that was no normal dream. The more he recalled, he remembered that the actual eyes of your ex did not fit the man’s eyes in the dream. That was an entity that was controlling your dream and that feeling Keigo had felt before, the one of coming danger, increased tenfold at the realization.

Let me know if you’d like to be part of the 🏷️ list for Indiscretion and/or the Bakugou x Fem!Reader, Deku x Fem!Reader fic series Catch and Release ♥️

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