#THIS IS EXACTLY THE KIND OF SHIT HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN DOING SINCE TW

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Boyfriend!Kang Taehyun x F!Reader TW : reader depression ; other members being jerks ; Taehyun is kind of oblivious ; angsty ; fluff ending ; Word Count : 2.3k Request : @moon0fthenight : Can you do a fic abt txt taehyun, where reader comes to dance practice room but overhears some OTher member badmouthing her, twice, so just stops coming and just starts pulling away (ofc reader has depression but tae obv doesn’t know), and taehyun realizes

You sat in the corner of the practice room, your eyes turned down to look at your phone as Taehyun went to get drinks for himself and the guys. You hated when you got left alone with them, the last time you had been in a situation like this, they had gone about making you feel so unwanted and unwelcome in the room that by the time Taehyun came back you were on the verge of tears and ended up going home early. 

Today felt like it would most likely go the same way. You could feel their eyes on you, and the only feeling that you got from those eyes was annoyance and such a strong sense of dislike that it had your skin crawling. “Talk about a stage five clinger. Does she have to come to all of the practices?” They spoke about you as if you weren’t there, or maybe they just didn’t care enough to keep their shit talking to a level where you wouldn’t hear them. 

“She’s gonna ruin it for him since she’s always up his ass. Enough pictures come out about them all of the fans are gonna turn on him.” They made it seem like you were forcing Taehyun to take you with him to all of his practices when it was quite the opposite. Not that he was forcing you to go with him when he went, but he asked you every time if you wanted to go, and even if you found a reason to not go, he’d give you a million other reasons why you should go. 

You tried so hard not to let it bother you, but it seemed like at this point they were trying to hurt you. You weren’t even sure why they seemed to hate you so much, maybe it was just fun for them to see how much they could break you down, or maybe they just didn’t want Taehyun to be with anyone. Either why, they didn’t have to go as far as they were with the insults and the shit talking. “It probably wouldn’t be so bad if she were famous or something… But she’s just… She’s a nobody. What does he even see in her?” 

It didn’t even matter to you who was saying it, and it’s not like you wanted to look up to see exactly who was bad mouthing you. All you did know was that you wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, you couldn’t handle listening to anymore. You didn’t bother to find Taehyun to let him know you were leaving, you just had to go. You were sure he’d figure it out, or you at least hoped he would. 

When he came back with the drinks, his eyes scanned the room, his smile so bright until he had done a full 360 and realized that you weren’t there. “Did she go to the bathroom or something?” He asked, his eyes glancing to the door every couple seconds just in case you walked back in. It wasn’t like you to just up and leave without letting him know, and he worried that something might have happened to have you just disappearing the way you did. 

“She just ran off. I’m sure if it were a problem she’d be blowing up your phone. Don’t even worry about it man, we’ve got more important stuff to work on.” Yeonjun said, and the rest of the guys nodded their heads in agreement. It was a problem, no doubt, the way they all seemed to think that whatever could possibly be going on right now didn’t hold any kind of importance. Maybe it didn’t to them, but to him you were the top priority. 

Taehyun shook his head, trying not to get too annoyed with them as he pulled out his phone. “I’ll just call her real quick, make sure she’s okay.” He said, about to walk out of the room so he could talk to you in private out in the hallway, but Beomgyu snatched his phone out of his hand and shoved it into the pocket of his sweatpants. “What the he-”

“Call her later.” Beomgyu mumbled, moving to the center of the practice room to get into position. “She’s a distraction even when she’s not here, jeez.” He mumbled to himself, but all of the guys had heard it, Taehyun included, and his agitation levels were rising as the others laughed at what seemed to be a joke, but he wasn’t the biggest fan of their comedy if it meant putting you down. 

“That’s not even funny.” Taehyun said under his breath, getting into position so he could start rehearsing the new dance. As much as he wanted to call you and make sure everything was okay, he knew that it would be faster if he just got practice over with so he could get back home to you as soon as he could. 

Did he even notice that you weren’t there anymore? You thought that maybe he would have tried to get in contact with you once he noticed you weren’t in the room, but your phone hadn’t gone off at all. Maybe he just didn’t care anymore. Maybe the guys had talked to him and made him finally realize just how useless you were to him. They were right. You weren’t an idol, you weren’t famous in any way. You weren’t even sure what he saw in you. You didn’t deserve him, you didn’t even deserve to be in the same room with him, let alone sleep in the same bed as him every night. The only thing you’d do by continuing to stay with him was jeopardize his career, and you didn’t want to do that. You wanted him to be successful, and with you in the picture, you knew he would never get to where he truly could be. 

Part of you wanted to stick around, just long enough to tell him that you were leaving, and that part of you also hoped that maybe he’d beg you to stay, that he’d tell you that you were being crazy. Then there was the part of you that was more realistic, the part that told you that he wouldn’t care if you stayed or left. You weren’t helping him in any way, it’s not like you were the one going on tours and concerts and performing for millions of people. You were disposable, he didn’t need you at all. 

Sadly there wasn’t much that you could do this late at night, and there was nowhere for you to go, so you’d at least have to deal with whatever was to come, at least for one more night. Your phone started to vibrate and Taehyuns picture illuminated the screen. Would he tell you that he wasn’t coming home tonight? Why would he want to come home and see you anyway? He could do better than you… And you didn’t want to answer the phone to hear him say that, so you let it ring until the notification came up that you had a voicemail, and you didn’t want to listen to that either. 

The front door opened slowly, maybe he thought you were sleeping and he was trying to come in quietly, or maybe he was trying to sneak in so he could avoid you and go straight to the bedroom. It’s not like he’d want to see you anyway, you were nothing special, you were nothing in general. “There you are, I thought you were sleeping since you didn’t answer…” He said, sighing after the words had left his mouth. Was it a sigh of relief or a sigh of disappointment that you were still awake, that he’d still have to deal with you?

“Was just getting ready to go to bed.” You said, pushing yourself up off the couch. “Goodnight.” You added as you walked past him, heading down the hall towards the guest bedroom. Who would want to wake up next to you? Surely not him. He was too good for you, too perfect. He didn’t deserve to have to see you in the morning when he just woke up from his dreams of being with someone better, someone prettier than you. 

“Hey…” He whispered, quickly kicking off his shoes and following after you. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He quizzed, and you didn’t want him to pretend to be worried about you, you didn’t want him to ask questions that you knew he didn’t care to know the answers to. Plus, those questions were just enough to have you getting choked up as you shook your head, trying to walk faster to get away from him, but he was faster, moving in front of you and putting his hands on your shoulders to stop you from going any further. “You’re really worrying me now… Can you just talk to me?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’ll be gone by tomorrow, you don’t have to pretend to give a shit anymore.” You tried to sound strong, to sound unbothered, but your voice broke, and it felt like you were breaking too. The entire life that you had lived with Taehyun, the life that you were dreaming of for the future, it had all been a lie, but for what? “I just want to go to bed.” 

“What the hell are you talking about? Why are you leaving tomorrow? Where are you going?” He asked quite urgently, his eyes wide and the corners of his lips pulling down, not into a pout, but he just looked sad. You had never seen him look that way before. Maybe it was because he finally was getting caught, the truth was going to come out. “And what do you mean I pretend to give a shit? What the hell happened? Where are you getting this from? Just talk to me, dammit.” 

You rolled your shoulders, causing his hands to drop to his sides dejectedly, the look of sadness on his face only growing more prominent as you stepped away from him. “I know what you and the guys talk about. I heard them. I don’t know why you’re with me either… But you don’t have to keep playing this part or this role or… Whatever it is you’re doing. I know you’re famous, I know that you’re above me in every single way… But that doesn’t mean that I don’t get hurt by this shit. Was it a bet? Was it a game? Why did you let it go so far?” 

His eyes widened along with his mouth, his head shaking profusely. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if they said anything that hurt you, tell me and I’ll handle it. I’m not with you for a game or a bet, and I sure as hell am not above you. I’m not above anyone. I love you because I fell in love with you from the moment I saw you… I wanted to be with you and only you. You have to talk to me though… Tell me what they said. What did they say?” 

Was this what the guys were talking about? You’d ruin the group. Is this how it would be ruined? If you said anything, if you told Taehyun what the guys had said, he’d surely be pissed if what he was saying was true. It would completely destroy the friendship that the guys had. You didn’t want to be the cause of that. You didn’t want them to be right. “It’s nothing… Don’t worry about it.” You mumbled, trying to move around him as he stood in the center of the hall, you were so close to the guest room door, but he refused to let you go. 

Taehyuns arm shot out, his hand landing against the wall to block you from leaving the conversation. “It’s obviously something. How the hell am I supposed to not be worried when you’re talking about leaving me? You’re doubting that I ever loved you, and you’re still trying to sleep in a different bed than me, and you want me to believe that it’s nothing? Regardless of if you tell me or not, I’m going to find out because I’m pissed at them now for even causing this in the first place. But, if you tell me, I can make sure you know that everything they said, whatever it is, it’s not true. It’s not true…” 

The urge to cry had been building the entire time, but now the tears were finally being let free, trickling down to hang from your chin as you shook your head. You felt absolutely pitiful right now, and all you could think of was how pathetic you must look. “I’m not good enough for you… I’m annoying and I’m clingy and I’m a nobody… I don’t know why you’re with me… Nobody knows…” In your own ears you sounded so whiny, which only verified the truth that only you believed in, that you were annoying… Why would he want to be with someone like you? 

His arms wrapped tightly around you, his hand gently pressing your face into his chest as he held you close. “It’s not true… None of that is…” He repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. “You are good enough for me, if anything, I’m not good enough for you. I’m always so busy and I can’t be here for you like I want to be… But you’re always here for me, and you never left my side, and that makes you more deserving than anyone else to stand by my side… Which is where I want you to be always. And that in itself proves that you’re not the clingy one… I am. I like having you with me, and if they guys have a problem with that… They’re just gonna have to deal with it, and part of me thinks that they’re jealous because they don’t have someone as amazing as you to support them and love them unconditionally like you do for me. I’m with you for a lot of reasons, but the most important reason is that I love you, and there’s nothing that anyone can say or do to change my mind. All I want is you, forever and ever…”

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#txt #tomorrow > together #txt × reader #txt x you #txt headcanons #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt drabbles #txt fic #txt soft hours #txt fluff #tomorrow × together headcanons #tomorrow × together imagines #tomorrow × together scenarios #tomorrow × together drabbles #tomorrow × together fic #tomorrow × together fluff #kang taehyun #taehyun #taehyun x reader #taehyun x you #taehyun imagines #taehyun scenarios #taehyun headcanons #taehyun drabbles #taehyun fic #taehyun fluff #kang taehyun x reader #kang taehyun x you

[sinsinsininning]

A little bit Softer

Chapter 3.

Eustass Kid x crew mate!fem!reader

TW: Smut at the end (female masturbation and fantasizing), talks of weapons, no y/n use, talks of DV and murder ofc

~~~~~

It didn’t take much to convince Killer to reset a course for the West Blue, Kid just said he had a vendetta to settle and that was that. Killer put the puzzle pieces together after a minute.

“You think she’ll like you more after killing her ex?” He asked the captain as they poured over the maps, his head jerked up.

“THEY NEVER DATED!” His head dropped back to the maps before popping up again. “AND YES SHE WILL!”

“Really?”

“Of course! Chicks dig revenge and murder.” Kid said with a confident smile.

“Of course.” Killer adjusted the compass. “But perhaps you should also try… more traditional means of courting.” Kid’s face scrunched up so he amended. “Flirting?” Kid was still making a face but shrugged.

“You mean like flowers and shit. Where the fuck am I gonna get flowers?”

“Not flowers necessarily-“

“We’re in the middle of the fucking ocean!”

“No I meant-“

“You don’t even know if she likes flowers.”

“It doesn’t-“

“Or even the kind of flowers she’d -“

“Enough about goddamn flowers!!” Killer yelled, earning them a few looks from crew across the deck, Kid shouting was normal, Killer shouting was wild.

“Keep it down, will ya?” Kid was deadpan. “You’re the one who brought up flowers man.”

“I’m fucking done.” Killer shot off, leaving his dumbfounded captain behind.

“So dramatic.” He grouched. In his place Killer sent Wire to assist with navigations and planning where and when to stop for supplies.

“So why’re we veering so off course? This will add several weeks to our trip.”

Kid paused. Should he tell Wire this is to murder your ex captain and make you feel safe around him? Nah.

“There’s a captain I wanna take out. I don’t know much about him but he’s in the West Blue.” Kid said cautiously. “Wanna kill him before we get into the Grand Line.”

“Oh? Well you know our newest rookie? The sniper?” Wire lit up talking about you, Kid felt a small pit in his stomach. “She’s from the West Blue, I wonder if she could help chart our journey. I can run and find her.”

“NO!” Kid shouted, now some of the crew were looking again. A few even inched closer to eavesdrop. “I’m not having a rookie chart a map, you can do it yourself. Don’t be fucking lazy.” Wire shrugged good-naturedly and continued with his protractor.

“So why exactly do you want this guy dead?”

“You’ll find out when we get there.” Kid grumbled, Wire again shrugged and the pair worked in silence as the sun set.

The deck cleared slowly as night approached and Killer sent you to fetch the two men for dinner. Your steps were quiet as you approached, Kid wouldn’t have know you were there if it weren’t for the metal on your belt. He could feel your eyes on him, sharp in the dark, as you watched for a moment quietly. With his back mostly to you, he doubted you knew that he knew you were there.

The familiar desire to show off bubbled up in his chest, so he made a show of clapping Wire on the shoulder.

“That’s a good stopping point,” He said, tone much happier than normal. “After dinner help me finish this and we should be done in no time.” That was high praise from the hot headed captain and Wire’s face brighten considerably.

“Sure captain!” His smiled slipped only a little when he stood up straight and saw you on the stairs. The gears in his head turned and he grinned wider. It was cute seeing how the captain turned so mushy around you, if he didn’t value his life he may have pushed it.

But the moment passed as you finished ascending the stairs, steps heavy to announce your presence.

“Killer said dinners ready.” You said plainly, tone flat and face neutral. Kid deflated a little, but Wire was quick to step in.

“Thank you! Your timing is as wonderful as always.” Wire tried gently baiting you into some casual teasing, but since your last conversation with the captain you’d been very subdued around him. “Will you be joking me and Hip or are you planning to abandon us yet again?” The ‘for the captain’ was implied, but you and Kid still felt it, both faces blushing.

Kid busies himself with putting the navigation tools away, while you glare at Wire.

“I’m actually not eating dinner with anyone,” You said, voice strained. “Try not to cry yourself to sleep tonight.” Despite your awkwardness around the captain, you still had to get your dig in.

“What? Why not?” Kid asked before Wire could, whipping his head around to glare at your glare. You turn and started walking back down, Wire close behind you.

“I’m working on weapon repairs,” You offer, after a pause you continue. “The soldering iron smells awful. Makes me sick. So I’m not eating until I’m finished and don’t have to worry about throwing up.” Kid catches up with you, but it’s Wire that asks.

“Darling you shouldn’t skip meals. When was the last time you ate?” His voice is soft with concern.

“I had breakfast, it’s fine, I’m not even hungry. I’ll be finished before midnight.” At the door to the mess you pause to let Wire go through first. “Killer is gonna save me a plate.”

Kid felt dizzy with anger. He barely got to see you at all and the one time he can reliably count on being near you was gone? Yeah he complained about the force contact, but so what! And sure logically, he knows it’s only one night, but fuck off he doesn’t want to be logical.

He can’t be mad at you of course, you didn’t do anything wrong but still. He wanted to grab you by your shirt and sit you down beside him and make you eat. Since he couldn’t do that, he decided to skulk into the mess hall, snatch his plate and stomp back to the deck to eat by the maps. All eyes on him.

You watched his display, surprised by him, Wire gave you a dreary smile and sat down. Killer didn’t even turn his head from the stove, calling out to you.

“Make sure he doesn’t spill food on anything important.” He orders, you wish you could pretend you hadn’t heard but he’d just chase you down.

“Why me?” You shout, not moving from the open doors. “I got shit to finish.”

“Do it before I put you on barnacle duty.” He points behind him. You groan and stomp off to find your pissy captain who you were still scared of but now it was primarily anger. Worse yet, everyone was watching with big grins, you wanted to scream.

You make your steps quiet as you return to the deck, unsure of where exactly he went. His grumbling reaches your ears and you follow it up to the second tier. He was hunched over the desk, maps thankfully put aside, practically chewing his fork. His eyes glance at you then away then double take.

For the first time you’re able to see the shift in him that the crew keeps seeing. The harsh lines of his face smooth away as the anger shifts to surprise and wariness. His eyes stay on you, soft and alert, as you stand awkwardly by the mast. He watches you watch him, his face and body language so open compared to usual.

Finally the intensity becomes too much for you and you turn your head to look over the sea. From the corner of your eye you can see him still watch you, but his shoulders are stiff. You inhale deeply once, the salty air comforting.

“Killer said not to get food on anything important.” You say bluntly, shifting from one foot to another as you glance at him again. His face shifts to annoyance.

“Oh fuck him, it was one time!” He grumbles again and tucks back into his food.

You almost leave at that. You’d done what Killer had ordered. You can go now right?

Instead you lean against the railings, he’s watching you again. You contemplate what you’re about to do, his chewing slows down, taking his time with each bite.

“What did you get food on?” You ask and he nearly chokes on his fork. You never initiate conversations anymore, beyond the respectful ‘what do you need sir?’ He coughs once and you turn to watch him, a little concerned.

“It was nothing,” He finally chokes out. “Well I mean, it was our first bounty posters. Killer wanted to keep them, you know, for posterity or some shit. But I got marinara sauce on them and he got so pissy!” You laugh and he freezes mid story.

“Were you in the kitchen?” You ask through giggles.

“Nah, the medic room,” He smiled, face a little red again.

“Why the fuck were you eating marinara sauce in the medic room?”

“It wasn’t just a straight bowl of marinara sauce you freak! It was spaghetti, but I didn’t spill the pasta.” He huffed, but his grin told you he wasn’t actually mad. “Anyways I’d feel bad but he got a copy of those posters like the next day with the newspaper. He’s just a baby.”

“He’s sentimental, it’s sweet.” You laugh again at your own words. “He’s the-“ you pause to laugh harder at your next sentence. “He’s the Kill-“ You can barely breathe.

“Spit it out, freak!” He cackles at you. Finally you gather yourself enough to say.

“He’s the Killer with a heart of gold.” You burst out laughing, Kid stares at you for a moment before joining.

“That’s what you were dying to say?” His laughter finally putters out along with yours. “That’s the shiftiest joke I’ve ever heard. Fuck me that’s not even a joke.” You whip your head to face him, shock and hurt across your features, his breath catches in his throat. Your hand pressed to your chest in a pitiable display.

“You really know how to hurt a gal’s feelings.” Your grin is the only clue that you weren’t actually hurt. He glares at you again.

“Oh fuck you! Go finish your repairs before I make you hand scrape all the barnacles!”

You laugh as you make your way to the stairs, calling out behind you.

“Killer already threatened me with that.” You wave.

“Who the fuck does Killer think he is threatening you!” His breath catches again after his outburst. You just laugh again and walk down the steps.

You’re too busy chuckling to notice the doors to the inside shifted just as you reached the final step. As you pass the galley, you don’t peek your head in to acknowledge the crew. If you did, you’d notice not a single plate of food is finished. Everyone scarfing down their portions to make up for their eavesdropping.

You continue on to the crew workshop, smile on your face.

~~~~~~

It’s past midnight when you finally finished repairing all the weapons that were damaged over the last few weeks. Most were simple, clearing up gunpowder from barrels, realigning sights, sharpening blades. But some required actual welding and blacksmithing, a skill you had… exaggerated on your ‘resume.’

It wasn’t that you didn’t know how to do it. It’s just been so long since you did. On your old crew it wasn’t your job and you weren’t allowed to do it. So the last time you’d actually repaired weapons or did any blacksmithing was on your home island years ago.

So you’d let some weapons pile up as you relearned how to properly reshape a lock on a shotgun or how to file out the muzzle so the shots could be straight again. And as a result you’d had a lot of projects to catch up on, it didn’t help that you felt so frazzled by the size of the list that you took extra time to avoid fatal mistakes.

Now here you were, covered in grease, sweat, and oxidized iron. Despite your hunger, your nose was still too full of the foul scent to even think about eating. Normally you weren’t so sensitive but it was really affecting you tonight (day?). So you decided a shower is next on the list, glancing at the clock you almost wanted to just plop down in bed right now, dreading the early wake up time you had.

But you knew if you showed up for chores tomorrow stinking and your plate still in the galley, it’d be a day full of lectures from Killer, Wire, Hip, Reck, UK…. Basically everyone, including your captain based on his little fit when you skipped dinner. You were tempted to ask Killer about that, but figured it’d only encourage the blond in the end.

The showers on the ship were, much like the bunks, divided. There were two main bathrooms with multi shower units and one large bath tub in each one. Both Kid and Killer had private rooms and ensuites with single showers, so if they wanted a bath it’d have to be in the communal ones. The easiest way to divide it was by gender presentation, masculine people in the larger one and feminine people in the smaller one since there were fewer femmes on board.

The bunks were sorta divided by vibes, at the start you and the male rookie you’d started with shared a bunk with some senior members. Probably to sus out any bad habits or behavior early. Then Killer allowed you to either stay in the bunk with Reck, Wire, and Gig or ask around if another bunk would let you join. It was kinda fun, interviewing for different spots, ultimately you decided on Hip, Emma, Hop, and House. The group was the most calm comparatively, especially with Dive, Pomp, and Quincy sharing a room- the most energetic crew mates all in one space.

You kept most everything you need in the shower cubbies, including some spare PJs, to avoid waking your bunk mates up at night, so you didn’t have to take a detour to grab anything. You strip down and turn the water on, praying there’s at least a little hot water left. As you wait for it to, hopefully, heat up, you take some baby oil from the communal cubby and begin to apply it generously all over yourself.

Usually the oil was used after someone shaved or needed extra moisture, but you knew from experience that nothing got rid of grease and gunpowder like oil. As you rubbed to break up the caked on grime, your mind wandered a little, this was the first time you’d had alone in ages. Normally the showers had at least one other person, or someone right outside the door. It was rare to be alone anywhere on this ship for more than a few moments.

It was kinda thrilling, you thought, hands slowing down a little to really rub your muscles. You let out a small groan as you press on your shoulder, rotating your neck a slowly to really grind that muscle. The privacy was making you feel warm.

You checked the water and, miraculously, it was heating up. The water washed away most of the grime with little resistance, but a few spots you had to help along. You lather up your wash cloth with your favorite strawberry soap, normally reserved for special occasion, but you felt like tonight was special enough to warrant it. You took your time, resuming your massage from earlier, while your mind wandered.

At this point you’d already decided you’d masturbate, you deserved it obviously, but it’s been so long since you’d had the chance. You struggled to think of erotic scenarios to help you along, not able to rely on physical touch alone. You rinsed off the soap and remaining grime then quickly washed your face. Your hair was next and when you finally had it conditioned and pinned up to sit, you were still struggling. But the urge was so prominent you decided to start anyways and hope you mind could conjure something up.

Your hands were experts despite the long break, one hand grasping your own breast, the other rubbing along your outer lips. You pinched your nipple as you finally slid a finger over your clit, a gasp leaving your lips. With a shiver and more pressure you rubbed again, slick arousal spilling out.

Your mind couldn’t conjure anything, your last sexual encounter was before your first crew and you didn’t want to think about them. A blush spread across your face, embarrassed even in your own mind, that you were about to picture members of your own crew. It felt so forbidden, despite the lack of restrictions on relationships between crew, you’d never let the thought linger.

Now you tried to picture some members, it was hard though, even though you had some hot crew mates. It felt… awkward to imagine them like this. Still as your fingers kept pressing, moans leaving your mouth barely concealed, you scrolled through the list.

Wire and Heat were handsome, but not your kinda handsome, Hip was out despite her beauty as well as your other bunk mates, Quincy and Pomp were also a no, not your vibes. You paused on Killer, the mask helped evade the awkwardness, but after a moment picturing him you felt like he’d know what you’d done the second you saw him tomorrow.

You shivered and whined, frustrated that you had such a mental block. You tried again with some crew members you knew a little less, but still nothing.

‘Could try Kid.’ You nearly slapped yourself at the thought, you couldn’t help it.

At the start of your journey with the crew you admired him so much and maybe would’ve found him attractive…possibly. But now you were so nervous around him….. but he was acting different now, he wasn’t shouting or throwing things. He’d smelled like warm musk and metal when he’d crowded you the other day in the med bay, pleasant and masculine, surprisingly mellow.

Your fingers dipped into yourself, so you kept thinking of him. What his hair would feel like. What his back would look like with your scratch down it. What his dick would look-

Ok, too much, you gasped and whined again, curling your fingers. You panted as you increased the pace of your fingers and thoughts.

Would he eat you out?

Would he fuck you slow or fast?

What about positions? Doggy? Missionary? Would he let you ride him or would he never relinquish control?

You hunched over as you thought about his eyes when you’d spoke about you ex captain. Angry and possessive, why? You were new.

‘But you’re his, remember?’ You thought, head dizzy as you reached down with your other hand to rub your clit. ‘You’re his now and he takes care of his own.’ Your mind was depraved as you wondered if he was going out of his way to murder that man, to impress you.

Fuck, you were so close.

You pictured him and you fucking after a battle, he seemed like the type. He’d be covered in cuts and blood, mostly his enemies, huffing in your ear little praises. Maybe this was after he killed Badger, a little celebratory fuck before returning to the helm. A reward, for him or you, you’re unsure.

You picture him crushing you close to him, legs around his waist, hands in his hair. You picture him, still thrusting, leaning down to kiss you. The image of a gentle kiss during a rough fucking brings you over the edge.

Most of your moans were muffled as you bite your lip, rubbing yourself through your high, but you know if anyone was awake right now they’d know what you were doing. The thought makes your thighs clench and you finally rinse your hair, the water now cool against your heated skin.

You wrap your hair up and get dressed, skipping the lotions and skin care so you could hustle and grab your plate. As you make your way to the galley, you pass by Kid’ personal workshop, you can hear him working and moving things around. Your face heats up as you remember your shower thoughts, so you soften your steps and hurry by.

After scarfing down your meal, you pass his workshop again, it’s quiet now. Feeling dread that he may catch you up so late, you rushed back to your bunk. You were out the moment your eyes closed.

#one piece #one piece smut #eustass kid #eustass x reader #kid x reader #one piece kid

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

Curiosity Part 1

Summary: Reader wanders into a sketchy part of the city and curiosity is her greatest temptor.

TW/CW: None that I know of. Reader x Mafia/Vampire!Colby Brock eventually.

Requested?: Nope

A/N: This started as a creative writing prompt and somehow turned into an imagine bc I have nothing but Colby Brock on my brain lately lol.

A/N: Fucking adorable little shit.

Y/N's POV

As the sun sets over the harbor, the lights of the city came on, one by one. I shiver, pulling my thin hoodie tighter around my body. I know it’s stupid of me to be out this late, especially in this part of town, but I need to. It began as a need for fresh air but has since turned into a need for adventure. Everyone around me always said this side of the city was dangerous and I want to see it for myself. As I wander the dimly lit streets, eyes scanning for any signs of danger, I begin to think everyone is being dramatic.

I'm not scared in the slightest. My plan is to take off sprinting toward my apartment at the first inkling that I'm in trouble. I'll be fine, right?

I might have been fine had I not wandered down that one street that led me to that one section of shipping containers that led me to that one alleyway. I jump as a smooth voice speaks from the shadows, “What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ out here?”

I look in the direction of the voice, knowing I should run but curiosity keeps my feet cemented in place. Dropping my face into a disinterested gaze, I respond, “Just getting some air. How ‘bout you?”

From the darkness emerges a tall, blonde man, “You’re brave aren’t you?”

I force myself to stay calm and look into the blue eyes of the stranger before me, “Depends on who you ask,” I shrug.

The stranger tilts his head slightly and grins, “He’s gonna love you,” he mutters to himself but I still catch it. My heart leaps to my throat at the seemingly ever-growing grin on his face as he steps closer, never daring to drop eye contact and I can’t seem to look away either. “You’re coming with me, Princess,” he states before turning to walk back down the alleyway.

My feet follow of their own accord. No matter how hard I try to turn the other way and take off running, my body won’t cooperate. I scan ahead of me, trying to discern where the man may be leading me but all I can see is dingy brick walls and busted trash bags. Finally, he speaks again, “Here we are,” stopping in front of a decrepit door with a rusty “keep out” sign hanging front and center. I try and fail to speak as he knocks a pattern into the wooden door.

Promptly, it swings open revealing another man, this one smiles at me and bows, “Come on in.” As I step across the threshold with Blondie following closely behind, I can’t hide the shocked look on my face, swearing I saw fangs on the man who welcomed us in. Shaking my head I mentally deem it an alternative fashion choice and return my attention to my surroundings. Muffled, bass-filled music can be heard from behind the walls around me. Somehow, my feet seem to know exactly where to take me.

The black walls of the hallway are covered in all kinds of spooky and music-related memorabilia. The plush deep purple carpet is a striking contrast to the darkness of the hall. As I round a corner, the room opens up into a sort of speakeasy. I stop in my tracks as the group at the bar pauses their silly antics and turns to look at me. I can feel the urge to bolt out of the room once again but one of the bar patrons calls out, “Whatcha got here Sam?”

The blonde stranger I met what seems like hours ago steps out from behind me and toward the bar, taking a seat, “Found her wandering around the container yard. Didn’t immediately bolt like the others typically do.”

The previous speaker raises his eyebrows in shock before plastering a big, bright smile across his face. My heart does a quick flutter as he watches me and with a few snickers around the group, it’s almost like they heard it.

He doesn’t speak again for quite some time which allows me to fully take in the group before me. The blonde who had brought me in off the streets, now known as Sam, orders a drink from the bartender before nudging and whispering to the one who had welcomed us in, who laughs heartily before shifting his gaze to the one staring me down. This one looks almost devilish yet so charming in his purple button-up and black leather pants. The chain necklaces he wears brush his exposed collarbone and the rings adorning his hands send naughty thoughts through my mind. I shake my head before taking in his striking blue eyes and dark fluffy hair. These men look nothing like what everyone warned me would be awaiting me on this side of the city.

I'm pulled from my thoughts as the dark-haired man speaks up, “What’s your name, Sweetheart?”

My throat is dry and I struggle to keep my voice steady as I speak up, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Several in the group chuckle including the main speaker who replies, “I would. That’s why I asked.” His voice is deep and velvety smooth. The kind of voice that could rile me up but still talk me to a peaceful sleep as well. There is a hint of mischief in his words and yet he remains gentle.

“That’s for me to know and you not to find out,” I state, sounding braver than I feel. I find myself wanting to melt before this man and I don't even know his name yet. Feigning disinterest once again, I add, “Can someone kindly show me to the exit?”

The man before you looks at Sam with an impressed expression on his face, “Quite brave isn’t she?”

Sam looks at me and shrugs with a smile on his face, “Depends on who you ask,” the call back to before unknown to the others but sticking out clearly to me, “Or at least that’s what she says.”

The other man looks back to me, “Here, I’ll go first. My name is Colby. Your turn,” he motions to me before taking a sip of his drink.

I mentally debate with myself between lying or telling the truth before landing on, “(Y/N).”

Colby tilts his head and grins at me, “See, that wasn’t so hard was it?” The door greeter whispers something to Sam which draws Colby’s attention away from me immediately making me want it back. Colby gives the man a disapproving look, “Jake, you know we can hear you, why bother whispering?” Jake simply shrugs.

I yawn and stretch my arms above my head, “It’s getting late, I think I’ll be going now.”

In the blink of an eye, Colby is right in front of me tilting my chin up with his thumb and pointer finger to lock eyes with me, “That’s entirely your decision but I think you and I both know you’d rather stay.”

Despite my racing heart, my voice remains disinterested and steady, “What makes you think I wanna stay here in this dingy speakeasy when I could be at home in my warm bed getting some shuteye?”

Colby grins, “Because you’re too damn intrigued to leave now. You haven’t taken your eyes off me since you walked in and don’t think I didn’t notice these pretty lips pout when I looked away from you,” he marks the end of his response by brushing his thumb over my bottom lip.

My heart skips a beat at his actions and the fact he saw right through me makes me want to give in completely. I don't. I step back and turn toward the door instead, “I’ll just see myself out.”

Colby’s hand drops to his side as I hear Jake laugh behind me, “She didn’t deny his statement.” I exit the building successfully despite every bone in my body screaming at me to turn back around and run into his arms. Despite my heart feeling a little heavier, I make my way back to my apartment. As I crawl into bed sometime later, I replay the night’s events in my head. I can’t seem to get Colby out of my head and unbeknownst to me, he can’t shake me from his thoughts either. I promise myself that I won’t go looking for him again but that’s a promise I'll soon break. Curiosity might’ve killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back after all.

Masterlist

More Colby Brock Imagines

#colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock imagines #colby brock x reader #sam and colby #sam and colby imagines #sam and colby imagine

[phantasmiac]

in which you intern at the endeavor agency to learn the ropes but you learn to love ua student!touya instead

cw/tw: gender neutral reader (referred to as pretty + beautiful), touya has his old personality kinda, death of a relative, making out

wc: 5.4k

a/n: as far as i know shiketsu students don’t do internships in canon but the fantasy must live on. high school sweetheart!touya follow up can be read here.

during the first semester of your first year at shiketsu high, you’re offered an internship at the endeavor agency. you initially approach the offer with skepticism, already familiar with the number two’s notoriety, before coming to the conclusion that you’d have to be a complete idiot to pass up the opportunity. dealing with the stick shoved up endeavor’s ass for a short period of time was a small price to pay for long term success.

it’s through this internship that you meet the famous todoroki touya, in all his high school boy glory. son of the big man himself, one time winner of the ua sports festival; wasn’t so lucky the second time, though you’d think otherwise with the size of his massive ego. you loathe the way he has that stupid smirk plastered on his face 24/7, the way he always he always has some witty comment stored in his pocket. how he always tries starting shit with you, mentioning the ua-shiketsu rivalry like you’re some school patriot or something. of course you would’ve chosen ua over your military boot camp of a school if you had the chance. does he think you enjoy wearing this stupid cap all the time? maybe he should consider transferring since he likes stealing it off your head so much.

you hate the flock of teenage girls and boys he attracts on all your shared patrol routes, it’s fucking distracting. for you, at least, because he somehow always manages to get the job done regardless of all the chaos he’s either ensuing or attracting. it’s infuriating. and fuck do you hate how good looking he actually is. you’re under the impression that you’ve done a good job at maintaining your whole “uninterested” act but he sees right through you.

(“too bad your school has that dating ban shit….”

your eyes widen a bit. you start looking through the file you were reading more quickly and aimlessly to seem a little less attentive towards his words, but you become self conscious of how frantic you must seem and it only makes you feel more embarrassed. you’re avoiding looking at him, but you’re sure he’s revelling in how flustered he’s made you.

“i know there’s charitable people out there who’d be willing to take you out.”

his face meets your folder before he can blink.)

the things you hate about touya are the same things you like about him. he’s a cocky motherfucker, sure, but that also makes him less of a pussy. you’re not exactly a fan favorite at your school. your peers seem to think it unfair that you were born with such a powerful quirk; one that allows you to engulf your entire body in plasma, hot or cold. and some people are born lucky, and others straight up hit the fucking jackpot at birth. you’re not only able to conjure your own plasma, but you can even manipulate any form of it in your vicinity. truthfully, you thought todoroki touya would get in line with those green eyed monsters. he always did have a knack for proving people wrong.

(“i was kind of hopi — i mean thinking, you’d be like….. totally naked, after that. fire proof suit, duh. but that heat was insane. you need to spar me sometime!”)

and can you really complain about him provoking you, as if you don’t love banter? and perhaps his witty comments can be a little funny — when they aren’t directed towards you.

you begin to like todoroki touya a lot more in the middle of the second semester of your second year, on a particularly rainy night in musutafu. you’ve been hard at work all day, and it ends off with a burglar who gives you a harder time than most petty criminals you’ve encountered so far. to make matters worse, the rain has been ongoing all day, which isn’t ideal for either of your quirks. your ears have been cursed with the sounds of touya’s “i’m starving”’s and “when can we go home already”’s for hours. normally you’d jump at the opportunity to tell him off for acting like a baby, but the grumbles of your own stomach aren’t giving you much of a right.

your feet ache from all the running and walking of today’s patrol. your neighborhood is on your current route, so you have the advantage of being able to soon burst through your door and fall face first onto your mattress. touya isn’t so lucky; he’s still a long way from the train station, and he hasn’t even checked when the next train is set to arrive. guilt pools in your stomach when the silhouette of your house comes into view.

if touya’s jealous of you, he doesn’t say. just yawns out an “i’ll see you tomorrow” and waves weakly at you before going on his merry way. as you’re climbing your front steps, something compels you to give him another glance. the sight of his back is only getting smaller and smaller, but you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve just let a stray kitten back out onto the streets.

your head tells you to get your ass inside and bask in some grub and relaxation, but your treacherous heart has other plans. you’re glad he’s focused on the road in front of him, or else he’d see your mental battle getting all weird and physical. you’re twisting and turning and grimacing before you’ve even officially embarrassed yourself, until it’s time to finally throw in the towel and groan in defeat.

“hey!” you yell, a bit louder than necessary (you definitely startled a few neighbors). voice might’ve even cracked, just a tad (he definitely noticed).

touya turns abruptly, an eyebrow raised and hands in his pocket as his eyes scan for some other person you might be croaking at. seeing no one, he gives you his attention.

“do you… maybe wanna come inside? it’s getting really late, and…. if you get into trouble on the way home it won’t be good for you to fight on an empty stomach.”

there is genuine surprise written on his face, the smug look you were expecting nowhere to be found. he thinks it over for a few seconds before responding.

“this your way of finally making a move on me?”

there it is.

“or you can starve. bye!”

“joking! what's for dinner? hey! please!”

your grandma loves touya. gushes over how handsome he is and tells him that tired story of the time she saw endeavor up close and personal.

(“i wouldn’t be standing here today if it weren’t for that man!” every. single. time.)

but touya is a daddy’s boy through and through, maintaining an expression that reads “yup, that’s my dad” through the whole thing. he wolfs down your grandma’s dinner like it’s the best thing he’s ever had the privilege of consuming, and you find that amusing because you’re positive all that pro hero money his dad brings home grants him the finest of meals from the finest of chefs. “i can tell you made this with love,” he tells her. grade-a ass kissing. his flattery makes you want to gag, but it’s nice seeing your grandma all happy. not that she isn’t a naturally cheery old woman, but you know she loves a visitor now and then, and her loser grandchild isn’t doing her any favors. it can get lonely, at times, just the two of you in the house.

and it’s nice seeing this side of touya. it’s like watching him strip himself of his armor. no over the top antics or bravado. you consider that you could be the first person outside of his family to see him this way, but if you think about it for too long, you might trigger your quirk and melt right through the floor, so you keep scrubbing at the dishes to distract yourself, as if you aren’t complete shit at hiding your expressions.

“what are you grinning about?”

so much for beating the heat. your face grows a little hot, but seeing as there’s no radiant light that follows, you assume you’re not having some freak show reaction. and for that you’re grateful, so you decide to indulge him, just this once, shaking your head in an attempt to compose yourself.

you give him a small smile (so much for not blinding him with your light).

“i’m just thinking about how wild it is that todoroki touya is in my house, kicking it with my grandma. i sound like one of your little fans, i know. but it’s true, that you’re like, basically a celebrity.”

as a treat for successfully going 5 seconds without responding like an asshole, you continue.

“i guess being your partner for the past few months made me forget you’re some…. hot shot heir to the todoroki throne or whatever. and so many people have seen your face, know your name, but they don’t really know you. how many lives did i save in my past life to gain the privilege of getting to know someone as delightful as you.”

the last part was an obvious joke; at least you thought it was. but touya is looking at you in such an indecipherable manner that it has you wondering if he took it literally. maybe you freaked him out. my partner was actually my obsessive stalker-fan. that’d make a good story for some magazine when he’s #1.

touya’s lips are slightly parted. he presses them back into a line, chewing on one of his piercings. his grip on the marble counter is tight, and his adam's apple is bobbing up and down like it’s charging up for whatever he’s about to say next.

“so…. so what do you think? of me?”

huh. you never knew he came with a low volume option.

his question catches you off guard. it’s one he’d normally have answered for you already by adjusting the pitch of his voice to mock you and all. he’d probably call himself touya the great or something, and add some kissy sounds at the end for a little pizazz. pass up an opportunity to portray you as utterly infatuated with him? unheard of.

but he doesn’t sound anything like his usual massive headed self when he asks his question, and you feel an eagerness creeping up your throat that makes you think touya’s typical rendition of your character is about to become real accurate.

“i think…. i think you’re….i think you’re pretty cool. and not in the ‘holy shit he’s strong’ way. i mean, yeah, that too, but….” something hits the light switch inside you. “hey did you know you, like, catch fire when you’re excited? they’re just tiny little flames, like, poof!” you motion with your hands.

(if there’s one way to get touya moping, it’s giving him a “boring” patrol route. you’d think having lower crime rates is a bad thing the way he starts to whine about what “little action” he’s gonna get that day. but if there’s any way to raise his spirits, it seems like reminding him that you’ll be tagging along — not like you’ve been his partner for months now or anything — is the most effective. you can’t even bring yourself to berate him for forgetting about you, the way he quite literally flickers blue at the mention of you like he’s wagging some imaginary tail.)

“— but it’s something i’ve noticed. and i’ve seen you cry, a lot, like when you lost the spo — like when you’re frustrated, and stuff.”

(it was late at night the first time you’d seen him all vulnerable. most of the heroes seen throughout the building during the day had head on home, and those who usually took on the night shifts were slowly trickling in. you were appreciating the rare, momentary silence after a particularly long day, under the presumption that you were all alone on the locker room floor. it wasn’t until you were making your own exit — practically skipping to the elevator with your bag flung over your shoulder — that soft sniffles rang through your ears. your glee morphed into concern as you followed the sounds to their source, all the way to a neglected vending machine at the corner of the floor.

your eyes landed on the last person you’d expected, crouched and hidden away. and now instead of concern, awkwardness began filling your limbs and cementing you in place. it wasn’t that you didn’t want to console touya; no, you wanted to be the one to wipe his tears and doubts away. you just thought your pity — or even just the sight of someone witnessing him at his lowest — would infuriate him. maybe he was too proud for a shoulder to lean on.

you’re too busy weighing out your options to notice touya looking up at you with red eyes and a snotty nose. he snaps you out of your thoughts when he asks you how long you’ve been standing there “like a creep”. not long, you tell him, both honestly and anxiously. you’re not sure your heart can handle being genuinely yelled at by him. the building is more than familiar with the sounds of his and enji’s yells coming from the number two’s office, and they’re not pleasant to listen to.

in the end, it doesn’t have to bear that weight. because touya just balls up his fists to rub at his eyes, chuckling about how he’s never able to hold back his stupid crybaby tears. they’re not stupid, you tell him. he just feels things more strongly than others. it’s an admirable trait to have.

touya watches you fish through your bag for some coins before letting it drop to the ground.

“it seems like the pros always talk about their feelings over a drink so….. coke or fanta?”)

“— anyways i know it’s cheesy but it’s encouraged me to be more open with my own emotions, too. and when your siblings visit the agency, it’s sweet, seeing you interact with them. i can tell how much you love them.”

you don’t realize your smile’s only gotten goofier as you visualize the image of him teasing his brother and sister, the flicks he gives them on the forehead like they’re his own little love language.

“oh! and you… you care, i guess? i don’t know if that’s the right way to put it, but you make an effort, you know? like when i give you song recommendations, you actually listen to them; means you’re listening to me, too.”

(it sounds incredibly corny, but loneliness truly has been your best friend since your first year at shiketsu. your classmates have made it very clear that they never want to hear any more than they have to from or about you; every time you’ve dared to cross the line they’ve drawn, you’ve been met with daggers for gazes and cold shoulders. touya’s naturally confused when you visibly shrink the moment your rambles get a little too passionate. a small pout forms on his face at the dimming of the twinkle in your eyes. but it can’t possibly compare to the confusion you feel when you see him the next day, and he’s suddenly stocked on knowledge about whatever the hell you were talking about yesterday. the gatekeeper in you is a little offended, but the wallflower is tinted pink.)

“and since i’m being so honest, fine, you have some good jokes, sometimes. you’re nice to talk to when you’re not being a complete pain in the ass.” a lovesick sigh escapes you. “yeah. i think you’re a really cool guy.”

your fingers are all pruny from the way you’ve been dragging the washing of the dishes. the crickets outside are having a field day and you can hear the soap foam pop and crackle. it’s quiet. touya is quiet, and he has been for awhile now. the sponge drops out of your hand along with your stomach at the realization.

you turn to him, quickly scrambling for words to apologize for word vomiting all over him, only to find him looking at you with a haze cast over his stupidly pretty eyes, in a way that disables you from your impromptu plan of punching him on the shoulder and calling him bro or some other friendly term of endearment. you’re not exactly the romance connoisseur or anything but that is not the look of a “bro”. that is the look of a teenage boy who is about to shut his eyes way too early, pucker his lips, and lean in at an obscenely slow rate.

that’s not how it happens, though. who do you take him for? some amateur? (he’s not. he’s a hot dude, sue him. not like any of those times mattered the way this does.)

the hand he places on your waist has electricity whipping up and down your spine, and your feet slipping under you. your hands plant themselves on his chest to avoid falling on your ass, but his tightening grip has already guaranteed your safety. now you’ve only found yourself even closer to him, and he takes the opportunity to cup the back of your neck and pull you forward. your eyes clam shut in anticipation. but the sensation of his lips on yours doesn’t arrive as quickly as you imagined. your nose brushes against the cool metal pierced through his own as his breath fans against your lips. time has stilled; he’s giving you a chance to pull away.

flusterment turns into frustration. the part of you that “hates” todoroki touya wants to bonk him on the head and call him a dumbass. have you not made yourself clear? you huff before moving your hands up his chest (foul play, he thinks) to wrap themselves around his neck and smooch him. now he’s the one hmphing, eyes opening wide in realization that this was actually fucking happening. after he’s composed himself, he’s somehow pulling you closer, grabbing you tighter, as if you could merge into one. that gets a gasp out of you, which touya takes as an invitation. hands are roaming and tongues are clashing; it’s sloppy, like most teenage make out sessions are. touya’s snake bites aren’t making it any more classy, and you giggle into his mouth at the thought how much metal gets in the way of you and his face. he doesn’t know that, of course, and assumes your sounds are from the sheer joy of this moment (they are, too) and smiles against your lips, leaning into the feeling of your hands holding his face.

no other senses are as important to either of you as touch or feel are in the heat of the moment. but at the sound of the familiar creak of the old floorboards, you find gratitude in your ability to hear. it enables you to snap out of your daze and yank touya’s hands off of you. you think you must be one of the strongest people in the world to be able to gather enough self control to break the kiss. in that case, touya has to be incredibly weak, the way he’s pouting and pawing at you to continue, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. he looks so damn cute, but you’re not willing to subject your poor grandmother's eyes to some high school pda.

as soon as she appears at the archway of the kitchen, remnants of his pr and media training take effect. he plays the role of boy who wasn’t just sucking your face all too well, a polite smile plastering itself on his face as he places his hands on the counter behind him.

your grandma, ever so oblivious and wholesome, holds a futon and a blanket in her arms, pestering touya about how dark and unsafe it is out there for a little boy like him (she says all this with her head thrown all the way back just to meet his eyes). you don’t process much of what they’re saying, still all flustered and disheveled. all you know is that touya’s ultimately decided to stay the night on your living room floor.

the last thing you see before heading off to your room for the night is touya’s knowing, teasing, shit-eating grin as he unrolls the futon on the floor, and the last thing you hear is your grandmother fussing over you.

(“you look a mess. my poor grand baby, working so hard every day,” her hands move from taming the flyaways on your head to caressing your face. “gosh you’re warm! are you running a fever? is that man overworking you kids?”)

though the afterglow of the kiss has your pillow feeling pleasantly cold and your mattress abnormally cloud like, your mind is nowhere near as tranquil. it’s riddled with thoughts of touya. the phantom feeling of his lips against yours only contributes to your restlessness. the first batch of your thoughts leave butterflies in your stomach. you allow yourself to indulge in fantasies of a potential future with the boy who holds your heart. you realize how delusional and foolish you seem; it’s exactly why you’d quickly shut those fantasies out when they would threaten to play out in the past, during silent nights just like this, where your mind would run rampant. but touya has now given you a glimmer of hope, and you can’t help but reach out for it and hold it close. touya liked you. liked you a whole lot if his… manners were any indication.

touya liked you. as the fact sinks in, your earlier words come to mind. touya was born to be huge, and he had no intentions of disappointing those who believed in him. touya had a destiny, while you lived in constant fear of never finding any meaning in your life. while training to be a hero was an honor, it was never your dream. as a child, you wondered why the universe had bestowed such a gift upon someone who had no desire for it; until “family” was numbered down to just you and your grandmother. you began to see your quirk as a resource rather than a gift. a resource that would allow you to provide for your little family, to secure a long life of comfort. and for the sake of optimism, you even became a little hopeful. hopeful that your purpose would manifest itself as you were surrounded by peers as “gifted” as yourself.

it never did happen that way.

when you first met touya, you were instantly struck with envy. the force of his ambition was overwhelming, to the point where you minimized him down to that single quality. he was the golden boy with his stupid dream. but a moth is bound to be drawn to a flame, and touya always burned especially bright. his tiniest details stuck to you like embers, and eventually you gave up on trying to scrub yourself clean of them. you learned to bask in his warmth; warmth you’d foolishly expected from others.

you feel like you’ve been grabbed by the shoulders and shaken awake from months of slumber, forced to open your eyes to reality. and maybe the reality is that you’re selfish. selfish for getting too comfortable in the presence of someone as sensational as touya. selfish for bringing him down to your level, selfish for ignoring the gap between you for so long.

you should feel guilty. you should feel ashamed.

instead all you feel is urgency. and maybe you’re not as valiant as touya, or as resilient. but you’re sure as hell as impulsive. it’s why your body tends to move to the beat of its own drum, and why it forces you to rip off your blankets and mindlessly race down to the living room. touya must have heard your vigorous stomping from a mile away, because he’s already sitting up on the floor all confused and watching you with puppy dog eyes. not even those downright freaky eyes are enough to freeze the adrenaline coursing through your veins. it’s still pumping when you drop to your knees to reach his level and slap your hands on the floor just to get all up in his face.

touya gulps. partially because of the close proximity, but mostly because you look pissed. you’re breathing all heavy and you’re frowning at him, so he can only conclude that you’re gonna tell him to stay the fuck away from you or threaten to yank all the piercings out of his skin if he ever even thinks about pulling that shit from earlier ever again (not an unheard of threat, by the way).

“i just realized you said see you tomorrow when you were about to go home,” you blurt out.

touya’s head is too anxiety ridden to notice how frenetic you sound. actually, i never want to see you again, is what he thinks you’ll say next, which pains him, especially now when your lips are just inches away and he’s fiending to get another taste of you. he can’t even ogle at them one last time with the way you’re staring at him expectantly for a response.

“yeah, so?” is the best he can muster through bated breath.

“tomorrow’s sunday.” your frown has slightly dissipated and your eyes have shifted to watch your fidgeting hands. you look…. dejected. touya can’t stand seeing you this way, even if you’re confusing (and scaring, honestly) the absolute shit out of him.

“oh. i’m sorry.” he’s not entirely sure what he’s apologizing for, but he’ll do it as many times as you want him to. but you don’t want his apology. to hell with not being selfish. you want him to want you.

touya thinks you’ve finally decided to kill him when you lunge at him and knock him back into the coffee table. instead, he finds himself reaching the pearly gates of heaven for the second time that day when you grab a fistful of his hair and slot your mouth over his. in the darkness of the room, he’s able to see what exactly you were talking about earlier. hues of blue illuminate your surroundings. they don’t extinguish when the two of you find yourselves tumbling to the ground, lips still locked. the position has you straddling him, and it gets him hot and bothered enough to pull away slightly in fear of igniting completely.

touya is breathless when you look down at him. it doesn’t help that your eyes are reflecting the color of his flames. you look beautiful. he realizes he must’ve thought out loud when you bury your pretty face in his neck. the feeling of your soft breathing makes him jolt. shivers run through him when you begin to whisper against him, hands still running through his hair.

“tomorrow’s sunday…. but i still want to see you. is that okay?”

is it okay for me to stay by your side?

when you look back at the remaining days of your second year, it’s difficult to recall a single one that didn’t include touya attached to your side. there was an agreement, after that night, that all forms of affection would be reserved for the privacy of your home. it was a reluctant agreement from both sides, but it was a necessary one, given the rules of “shitketsu”, as he liked to call it. it’s laughable how fucked that agreement was from the very beginning.

touya couldn’t pretend if his life depended on it. when you’d scold him for trailing behind you like a puppy all day, he’d whine about how he couldn’t help it. “the heart wants what it wants!” he’d huff with his hands on his hips and his chest all puffed out, posing like a real hero. some fights aren’t worth losing, your grandmother used to say, and the odds never seemed to be in your favor anyway; not when he’d act so cute. so you’d just chuckle and let your head fall on his chest, mumbling something about how he had to make a bigger effort tomorrow — he never did, but fortunately your grandmother used to tell you some mumbo jumbo about acceptance, too.

a boy who is head over heels for you. some might question — rhetorically — if you could possibly ask for more. and you would answer that you could, with all the guilt in the world pooling in your stomach. because touya would look at you through heart shaped pupils. hold you close and whisper sweet nothings in your ear while you napped after a long day. he’d kiss your doubt shaped tears away during your weakest moments like he cared and yet —

(“i didn’t raise you to end up walking in somebody else’s shadow. where’s your head at? don’t tell me it’s been clouded with some foolish desire for romance. leave that nonsense to your peers —”

“it’s not like that!”

“you think the greats wasted their time on trivial things like boyfriends or girlfriends—”

“i just said it’s not like that.”

“i have no interest in the technicalities of your involvement. i only ask that you don’t let it distract you from your goal. you’re not like the others. you’re my son.”)

happiness can only exist in acceptance. you remember those words now. and you were happy, for a while, feigning ignorance. not much had changed after that conversation, so who were you to complain? he was still your touya, and that should have been enough.

the distance grew subtly: rain checks, some messages left on read, nothing unusual. at the end of your second year, you decided not to renew your contract with the agency; touya didn’t question it, but neither did you when he’d said something along the lines of your decision “being for the best” instead of putting up a fight like you’d expected. you don’t know whether or not a fight would have saved your relationship from slipping through your fingers; only that your insecurities wouldn’t even let you try. before you knew it messages weren’t being exchanged for days, then weeks, and then eventually at all. rain checks became empty promises that paved the way for his eventual disappearance from your life.

touya had nothing to say about your decision to withdraw from shiketsu at the beginning of your final year, no words of sympathy for you while you sobbed over your grandmother’s open casket. there was no one to spin you around and pepper your face in obnoxiously loud and wet kisses after you’d completed your training at the district police academy, or moved into your first apartment; one you’d always fantasized about sharing.

you figure it must have been easy for touya to erase you from his life, considering your face has never been plastered on billboards and your name hasn’t been included in the headlines of any newspapers (lucky). there’s no room for resentment in your heart by the time you’ve been promoted from officer to detective. you’re good at what you do, always have been. but now that you can say you’re passionate about your job, living a dream you never knew you had, you know you’ve grown. the person you are now wouldn’t envy the wonder boy you met four years ago.

you do, however, find yourself pitying the current number five hero — young and quickly rising up the charts — when his “rowdy” behavior lands him at the center of controversies. the image of endeavor bursting a vein over all of blueflame’s scandals occasionally crosses your mind. you’ve both changed, that much is evident. whether the state of having “moved on” is applicable to both sides is a question that arises when you stumble upon images of him and some hot new mystery person on social media. the amount of people the cremation hero has been linked with since his debut couldn’t be counted on both your hands and feet combined, but it isn’t often that you’re forced to see photo evidence of his flings with your own eyes.

it’s then that you’re reminded of the shooting star that managed to melt through your fireproof hold; and that they never tell you exactly how much time is supposed to heal your wounds.

★ a/n pt. 2: so this was originally supposed to be a full ua student to pro hero touya fic but i felt like splitting it into two parts instead so stay tuned for that ig. in this part i characterized him as if he retained some of his baby traits (bratty and annoying in comic sans) but in part two he’ll act a little more canon compliant (bratty and annoying but in black metal font) since there’s a time skip and people change.

☆ fun fact: i wanted to make readers quirk fire related bc it’s canon that endeavor takes in a lot of fire quirk users at his agency and i immediately thought to rip off human torch. but then i started looking into what exactly plasma is (since human torch is described as using a “fiery” plasma) and i still Do Not Totally Get It BUT i learned that hot plasma is.. hot.. and “cold” plasma is great at fighting bacteria/infections (like on burns wink wink) which i thought was cool and useful so i just slapped that baby right on there like some flex tape. definitely not educated enough on the subject to delve into it in the story.

#BOOOOOOOO #this took me so long to finish for no reason #dabi drabble #dabi headcanons #dabi x reader #dabi imagine #dabi #dabi angst #dabi x y/n #dabi fanfic #dabi fluff

[narabea06]

* Peaks head around corner *

Gimme Toby HCs?

Hmmmmm I think I can do that- *pulls out giant book of headcanons* They should be under T, I believe-

Toby Headcanons Part 2!!

Here's part 1 if you want to read more of my Toby headcanons to understand my AU a bit more

TW: Implied Su!c!dal Ideation, Alcohol

Him and Nina are best friends, and have been since highschool. His disappearance was the first among the friend group before Clockwork's, and was what pushed Nina to isolate herself. They are both reunited now, and Toby believes it's his fault Nina ended up wrongfully joining Jeff, but Nina keeps telling them that it isn't.

Halloween is actually his favorite holiday.

Back when he was a proxy, him, Cody, and Clockwork were all very close. Cody often would tease Toby for having a soft spot for Clockwork, like a little brother would. Like an older brother would, Toby would hide Cody's shit as payback.

When Clockwork first met Toby, she instinctively attacked him until the other proxies ran over and told her to stop. Toby was petty about this for months until Clockwork apologized.

Toby hates himself, and has been trying to cope with that since he was 12. He doesn't believe he deserves a happy ending or good friends, or a loving partner, or a good brother and sister, but he has somewhat come to accept that he can't bear the lose everything that he has left right now, and does not want to give up what little he actually is happy about in his life for once.

He only say a few things still from when he was a kid, one of them being Lyra's old lanyard she used to hang from her belt. He now wears around his neck constantly, and hangs his apartment keys on it. Sometimes he even jingles it as a stim.

Toby hates the smell and taste of alcohol, and will actively leave a room if someone is drinking it in the same room as him.

They aren't too big on being called nicknames besides Toby, and the only two he is actually fine with are "babe" and "cinnamon", and only Clockwork is allowed to call him those.

Toby tends to bite at his nails a lot and often does not even realize when to stop since he can't feel it.

His love language is acts of service and words of affirmation.

He's the kind of person to give you an awkward thumbs up and just say "that's cool" if you came out to him.

Slenderman was actually considered an urban legend in their town, like like Bloody Mary and Sirenhead, so when Toby told people that he was seeing Slenderman everywhere, nobody believed him, other than some conspiracy theorists.

He is actually rather short (5'2"), especially in comparison to the other proxies. The only proxy who was shorter than him was Cody, and Cody is three years younger.

Toby is an Atheist.

Toby was never really a great traditional artist, but does find painting relaxing, and sometimes will paint as a form of art therapy. He even has a small portfolio full of random art pieces that make sense to nobody else but him, and he's okay with that, so those paintings weren't for anyone but him.

Cody will sometimes randomly take pictures with Toby when they least expect it using one of Skully's old cameras, or with Toby just in the background, mostly because Toby hates being in photos and will sometimes purposefully hide their face from the camera, or will take the camera beforee Cody cab take the picture.

They do not know how to tie a knot, and therefore doesn't know how to tie sneakers, even as an adult, and now they feel too embarrassed to ask for somebody to show them.

Breakfast food in general is a small comfort for them since Connie would often make him and Lyra breakfast for dinner on the nights she saw they were particularly down. Toby tries his best to recreate Connie's cooking, but keeps not making it right, and ends up having to throw it away because his food sensory issues physically won't let him eat it if it's not exactly the way she used to make it.

He doesn't have a phone, though he has been working towards getting one, but is scared that Slender will somehow track him through it or something.

He listens to cavetown.

Toby can hold his breath for a surprisingly long time, and almost even joined the swim team in highschool.

He was terrified of cats as a kid, and refused to get one or be near one. Toby has been trying to work on his fear though now that he's an adult, and even sometimes leaves food outside his window for the stray cats in the neighborhood.

Toby steals dice from every board game he plays just so he can have a tiny dice bag in his backpack to make little click-clack noises when he shakes it.

He read Percy Jackson in middle school, and sometimes studies Greek mythology.

#creepypasta #ticci toby #toby rogers #ticciwork #nina the killer #jeff the killer #x virus #lyra rogers #connie rogers #creepypasta headcanon

[grian-obsessed-lesbian]

incorrect quote turned oneshot :3

Grian: I've come to a point in my life where I need a word stronger than fuck.

Tw: blood, torture kind of, swearing. That's all I think, let me know if I should add more :)

Xelqua had been bad. At least, that's what the Watchers said. He hadn't down what he was supposed to, and now he had to be punished. He isn't sure what exactly he did wrong, but if it's bad enough to get a punishment, it must have been bad.

Watcher One took Xelqua from the cell that They kept him in and brought him to a giant room that he liked to call the Watcher version of prison. (All of the Watchers domain was a prison, this part was just the worst.)

"Xelqua, you have failed us one again." Watcher Two boomed at him. He had to try to not flinch back at the sheet volume of the beings voice.

"You had one job, and yet you can't even do that. How useless are you?" Watcher Two asked. Xelqua knew better than to reply to the question.

Watcher One pulled Xelqua up again and threw him toward Watcher Two. He landed with a hard thud and a snap. He knew better than to make any noise, no matter how much he wanted to.

Watcher Two grabbed him and held him by his dark wings. They once were beautiful and vibrant, but the Watchers ruined them, just like everything.

Watcher Two pulled out an object that halfway resembled an axe, and held it above him. Xelqua knew that whatever was about to happen, wouldn't be good for him.

He was tossed to the ground, as the Watchers axe collided with his chest. Immediately, he could see blood coming from the wound. The Watcher continued to hit him, and he continued to bleed.

Eventually, the god seemed to get tried of tormenting Xelqua, and left. Xelqua pulled himself up and rested against the nearest wall. He couldn't stay here any longer. He wouldn't survive.

He must've passed out from the blood loss, because when he woke up, he was back in his cage. His wounds still stung and he was converted in slick red. He looked around as best he could with the mask obstructing his view and the blood loss making him delirious. There were no Watchers on guard or anywhere near him. They must've thought he was to out of it to do anything.

Usually, they would be right. But he was stubborn and would take any opportunity he could.

Grian was running. He had run a lot of times in his life. From his family, from his "friends", from everything, but this time felt the most important.

He knew where the portal room was. He just needed to get there and then he could be free from the Watchers torment.

Grian got the to room that held the ways to the servers. He could feel Them Watching him and trying to get to him. He ran into the closet portal and hoped. Hoped that it would work, hoped he would be free, hoped he would be safe.

______________

Season six of Hermitcraft has just started. All the Hermits were together, just hanging out and messing around. Mumbo was having a good time. This was slightly uncommon for the mustached man, ever since his best friend went missing. The Hermits were like a family though, and were always there for him

Xisuma was just about to get everyone's attention, when there was a loud crash from the distance.

"What the fuck was that?" Cleo asked, looking around.

"I'm not sure. Mumbo, Doc, come with me to check it out." Xisuma requested.

"Uhm, why me?" Mumbo asked, not sure why he of all people had to go to investigate.

"Just come on." With that, Mumbo, Doc and X went to investigate the sound while the other Hermits discussed what they thought it was

---------

Grian opened his eyes. Holy shit, he opened his eye. Not the weird magical eyes that They have him. His own eyes. He looked around, trying to figure out where he was. He didn't read what server he jumped into, he just went for it. In hindsight, that probably wasn't the best idea, but he's never been the brightest.

He looked around. It seemed like he was in a plains biome. The normally green grass and unruly red shade from his blood. He looked up, and saw three figures looking at him. He froze, scared that the people might attack him when one of them called out.

"Grian?" A voice that he recognized yelled out. The yell put Grian into action

"Mumbo? Is that you?"

"Yes it's me mate. What happened to you? I thought you died?"

"I mean, almost. Honestly I don't even know where to begin to explain what happened." Grian said with a humorless laugh that caused him to since in pain, forgetting that he was pretty badly injured.

"Okay well, that looks really bad. Does it hurt?" Mumbo asked.

"Yes, it hurts, you spoon." Grian said, using the old nickname that the two would always call each other.

"Right, sorry." Mumbo replied. He got closer to Grian and put some pressure on one of the wounds.

"Ow fuck. Actually, at this point, I'm gonna need a work stronger than fuck." Grian said through clenched teeth, trying to not completely pass out from pain.

"Sorry, sorry. Hold.on, I'm gonna get you some help. One second." Mumbo rambled, trying to reassure his almost unconscious friend.

Grian nodded but couldn't say more than that. He tried to stay awake for his friend, but the pain was getting to him and a nap seemed like a really good idea. He passed out, but he knew he would be in good hands.

#grian #watcher grian #oneshot #incorrect quotes #mumbo and grian #Watchers

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Interested in your answers for 17 and 19 of the choose violence ask game, if you'd like to share them! Thank you :)

I was halfway through answering when I realized I totally misread the ask game. It is... not intended to be as dark as I made my answers, I think... oh well! I'm sticking to my guns. Anyone who's read my stuff knows this is a dead dove household lol

17. There should be more of this kind of fic/art

Oh man I'm about to Reveal Myself, but... I think KP as a whole could really use more noncon/dubcon, but KimChay especially (and Kim specifically). I read a fic a looong time ago when I first entered the fandom, it was like 400 words, and I'm not gonna name it in case the author doesn't want to be attached to it, but it was so good. Essentially Chay is very enthusiastic in the smut and Kin can't bring himself to say no, and I just!!! That is the good shit to me. I feel like especially post-reconciliation, Kim is exactly the kind of person that would overcompensate for breaking Chay's heart by giving him everything he wants. (i may be writing a fic about this already, called Stress Relief. That may or may not ever be posted. That may or may not be based on my own personal trauma. Anyway.) On a lighter note! I want to see more AUs! I'm a bit spoiled coming from the TW fandom, which is like. One of the most prolific fandoms on Ao3. But mannn, I want to see KimChay writers branch out and get absolutely unhinged with their AUs!

19. You're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like...

Lets be real. My first answer was non-con. There's really not a lot I'm ashamed about lol. I mean I've got like 3 different tentacle monster fics in the works, I've got a Wuju Bakery fic that's 90% slime and oviposition (technically still up for debate. Eggpreg?). I'm all in on the things I like, and don't care/think much about the things I don't. I think I've been in fandom long enough, and gotten old enough, that I just... don't have time to waste on being awkward anymore. Lose your shame! Cast off your shackles! That said I used to think rimming was really gross and I don't like it irl but there are some people who just write it like. unf. Hot damn. I'm a little mad at @ae-azile for that one chapter of Progression 👀

Also not mad/ashamed/horrified, but I was surprised at how much I love reading autistic Kim and writing trans!Kim. For the first one I think the writers in this fandom do an excellent and convincing job at characterizing him (esp @kimkhimhant my beloved <3) without infantilizing him, which... happens a lot with autistic characters. Like, the writing is so spot on that I didn't even question in, I pretty much immediately assimilated that into my mental rolodex of headcanons. 10/10 A+ effort for everyone around.

The trans!Kim aspect is also really fun. I'd never really written trans characters before, but this past year, and the past couple of months especially, I've been really struggling with my own gender and identity. So writing about that through Kim has been really therapeutic. (Adding to my first answer, we need more trans!Kim!) Although... I do hope that the particular way I've chosen to explore his gender in Dystocia is.. taken gracefully. Since it does revolve around Kim having a very traumatic pregnancy (and a lot of other trauma in general), which I know can be triggering for people. Whenever I eventually post that monster of a fic I'm just going to liberally tag it with all the things and hope for the best lol.

I think Dystocia and Stress Relief are two fics that I'm incredibly nervous to post, both because of how personally significant they are to me in a way most of my fics aren't, and because they're both very dark, which IDK if that's something people really want to see from KimChay (esp in Stress Relief).

Anyway! This is a lot wordier and darker than it probably needed to be, and IDK if it's what you were looking for dear anon, but thank you for the ask!

#cookie speaks #ty for the ask lol #if anyone tries to come for me for the noncon just know i WILL fite u #im processing my ~trauma~ #and Kim is my squishy stress ball

[witches-and-devils]

Addiction, Chapter Seventeen

Hey guys! Fair warning, there's smut near the end of this chapter! So tw for monster fucking, size differences, and general smutty-smut.

Damascus had mostly been holding up in his room. He’d managed to find an old pack of cards and was currently in the midst of a one-man poker game that was gnawing away at his mind. It’d be fine if he was able to go out and do things, but the Little Boss was still freaking out after they’d kissed. He really didn’t feel like dealing with that shit right now. This was exactly why he was both confused and apprehensive the moment the small redhead popped into the doorway and leaned against the old wood that complained and groaned the whole time. Ace folded his arms over his chest, looking like someone had just scared the shit out of him. Were they getting attacked again? Damascus was pretty damn sure the place was secure.

“Um…” The Witch began eloquently before clearing his throat, “What’s your favorite color?”

…

…

What? He gave Ace a questioning look like he’d grown an extra head or was suddenly spouting gibberish. After a beat of silence, the Little Boss continued, “Mine is lilac. I never get to wear it because it doesn’t look good with my fair. I don’t change my hair because I kind of find the idea that ‘redheads don’t have souls’ funny.”

“O… kay?”

“I also really like fiction. I didn’t get to read it a lot in the Church, so I got hooked once I was gone. Pretty much obsessed with everything. Young to adult, it’s mildly embarrassing. I really enjoy the stuff that touches on old mythic beasts, or maybe something with 16-year-olds doing insane shit I couldn’t even do.”

“Wh-”

“I also like geckos. And turtles.”

“Uh. Okay.” Damascus blinked when it finally seemed like Ace was slowing down. He set the cards down on the table. What the fuck? They kinda make out and Ace does everything he can to avoid him, but now he’s going through all the small talk topics at once? “Did you eat some weird ass mushroom in the woods?” The Familiar leaned forwards, wiggling his fingers in front of the Little Boss’s face. Then he started to puppet his hand as if it were talking, “I am a hallucination. You should definitely give me all your money. Because it’s hallucination money.”

Wait, no. He was seeing that twitch to Ace’s eyebrow that he got whenever he was getting pissed. “... Youuuuu didn’t eat any weird mushrooms, did you?” Damascus leaned back in his precious old chair, quirking a brow. “Look, not to be blunt- but also to be blunt- what the fuck? Is this some weird reverse psychology bullshit? Because I don’t deal with weird reverse psychology bullshit.” What the hell was the Little Boss planning? A bit of bonding here, a bit of slavery there? Trying to get him to chill the fuck out after their session or whatever? Not that he really had any answers about that either, just-

What the fuck?

Ah shit, Ace’s leg was bouncing. The Witch pushed himself off the doorway but didn’t retreat like the Demon expected him to. “I’m… making the first… move!”

“The fuck does that mean-?”

“I’m- pushing! I’m… pushing and- look just- you can’t- no. Fucking- don’t. I need you to just- don’t pull back. Please?” Please? Since when did Ace say ‘please’? “I really like singing? I practiced a lot when I was younger and sometimes when I can’t sleep I’ll sing to myself and pretend it’s someone else? I was… in the choir? At the Church? I also like cooking but I never cook so I’m bad at it and maybe…?” By this point, the Little Boss’s face had grown as red as his hair. “L-look. Maybe. You could. Take me. Hunting. Some time? In the woods. Or. I could watch. Or. You could. Give me. Pointers? On. Strength? I’m a bit… moodle-y? Or we could-”

“Ace-”

“What about food? I could grab something you like the next time I go out to get supplies? Or-” His shoulders slumped as a heavy sigh left him. “I’m pushing, Damascus. I’m trying to… look, I don’t know what I’m trying to do just tell me some shit about you and I’m not on drugs!”

Damascus huffed. Was this guy going to let him speak? None of what he was saying was making sense. This didn’t make- “I still can’t tell if you’re asking me on some weird, fucked up version of a date or making a terrible attempt to interrogate me.” Giving up, he leaned his head into his palm. From day one, they were business. Damascus wanted to kill him. The Little Boss needed muscle. That was it. There was no touching, there was no small talk. They had their jobs, and that was it.

Eight years of brute forcing their way through things. They get their asses handed to them by some Imps, were kinda forced to admit some fucked up shit, and yeah- okay- they kissed. But that did not mean that he couldn’t see what Ace was trying to do. A sudden, bitter resentment took over the Demon as he stared at Ace. “I’m not your dead friend.” He ignored the surprised, pained look on his face as he pushed himself out of his chair. “I don’t know what the fuck this is? But either way, I don’t fucking get it. I don’t get what’s going on anymore.”

Every bit of their dynamic was broken- not that it was great before, but there were boundaries. Now lines had been crossed. Ace was suddenly acting buddy-buddy like he hadn’t thrown him against walls or ignored his advice in fights or- Damascus groaned in frustration, his hands flying up to his hair and messing it up until it defied gravity. “I’m bored out of my mind, I don’t know what the fuck you’re up to, and now I have to deal with some weird Angel-Demon that I don’t fucking understand! Nothing makes sense!”

He started to pace back and forth in the comparatively tiny room. “I don’t know why the fuck the Church would want to stitch Angel wings onto a Demon for. Or why that sorry excuse of a Demon is still alive. It should be dead. It really, really should be fucking dead, and it’s not and it’s alive and it looks like it’s just--”

It looks like it’s in so much pain.

Growling, Damascus kicked the table, smashing it into the wall. “And I still have no idea what they wanted my son’s bones for- and now you’re acting like we’re, what, friends!?”

He stopped, panting as he took in deep breath after deep breath. After a few seconds of tense silence between the two, Ace finally spoke once again. His voice was smaller.

“I… I just… I’d like to… try to be? Maybe? And- I- I thought that-” Damascus glared at him from across the room, the cards that flitted through the air finally landing in a mess scattered across the old floor. The Witch seemed to wince away from his gaze. “You… do you… want help with finding out about your son’s bones?” That was the part he picked up on? Out of everything? “We’ve been around each other for years now and- and I’ve been expecting you to just stop being angry about the bond. I… I thought I should try? To do something? And maybe- I don’t know- make it easier? I’m not trying to treat you like Valdis, I wouldn’t even…. I just thought it might be nice if we both had someone to talk to. About our shit. There’s… some stuff I’d like to talk about and I wanted to make things more comfortable or…” 

For the first time in years, Damascus watched Ace shrink back and kneel down in front of him. The Demon almost took a few steps back, before he noticed those small hands simply reaching out and scooping up each of the playing cards. “I’m… I’ll go look for jobs. I could- I could try to put some lines out and see if I can’t come up with anything about the bones, maybe…?”

… Damascus didn’t flinch, but he felt like he’d been punched in the gut. It made him want to scream. Because he didn’t care. He didn’t. This was some manipulation. He should just kill him while he has the chance. But. The way he just. Hunched over in front of him. Picking up those cards with shaking hands and sorting them out one by one in such a robotic manner…

Damascus felt every bit of aggression drain from his body.

“... I don’t care.” He did.

“It doesn’t matter.” It meant everything to him.

He didn’t say anything else. He turned around and just… walked away. He felt that tar pit of anger boil over and stain his aching chest as he made his way outside into the woods. He just… roared out into the sky. Birds flew off. The earth trembled. It cracked, spiraling out from his feet like it wanted to run away from him. It tore open like old wounds as he just screamed out into the quiet forest. Screaming and screaming until he fell to his knees and began to sob. Gilgamesh. Even in death, couldn’t do right by his son. He wished he could tear this chain to shreds, and hunt down whatever bastard-

Cards falling on the floor.

FUCK.

His fist crashed into the ground, digging the hole he’d found himself in even deeper.

Did you really think I loved you?

Tyrant-

Playing cards-

Piece of shit-

Monster.

⬲⦓⧫⦔⟴

Fucking. Asshole. Fucking. Clueless little shit. Damascus stomped back into the house a few hours later. He knew where Ace was. Whenever he freaked out he always liked cloistering himself in little, tiny places like an animal retreating into its burrow- but it had to be clean. It had to be clean and dark and small, but the little shit was tiny, so.

He could fit into a lot of places. But only the cupboards were clean, dark, and dry. Perfect hidden burrow. But did Damascus really care? No. Not really. Ace could have calmed down. He wasn’t. He was exhausted and muddy and he’d definitely tracked shit in, but he didn’t care-

He caught a glimpse of himself in the cracked, dusty windows. He looked like shit. Musty hair, a branch sticking out of it. It was fine. It was. Fine. Fuck that. His mood felt like it was being sucked down by a whirlpool, at one point wanting to scream, and the other just wanting to curl up in a dark corner himself. Instead, he marched straight into the kitchen, not caring whether or not Ace was actually in the cupboard.

“I don’t know why the fuck you’d want to get to know a fuck-up like me. I’m just. Broken. Broken jagged glass that cuts everything that comes near me. And I like it that way. I don’t need to talk about favorite colors and foods because it doesn’t fucking matter.” He clenched and unclenched his fists. “I don’t care. I don’t. I want to kill you, you want me on a leash. That’s how it works. It’s how it always works.”

He threw his hands up. “Why the fuck else would you want to get to know me except to make me more fucking- I don’t know. Obedient? If we’re ‘besties’, you don’t gotta worry about me killin’ you? And the moment we run into some shit, I’m the first to go. It’s how it works. It’s how it always works!” Damascus stopped, pausing to scratch at his arm. He. Felt itchy. “I don’t even know why I keep comin’ back to Earth. There’s nothin’ here anymore. It’s not fun anymore. I hate this place. I hate-”

Crystal blue skies, green grass.

Golden sands, jade rivers.

White foam cresting over deep blue waves.

Deep brown eyes as rich as clay-

“Fuck!” He frantically scratched at his arm before dropping his hand. His skin was red. He hated. Everything. He held his head in his hands, but he refused to cry. He wouldn’t. He’d done that already and he hated it and he didn’t want to do it again. But his eyes were rimmed red. “I’m broken. I don’t- fucking- I’m broken. Stop tryin’ to cut yourself picking up the pieces.”

Quietly, the soft clicking of the cupboard door breaking its seal and swinging open filled the room. “... I…” Ace began to carefully crawl out of the cramped space, shaking his head and climbing to his feet. “Look- I… I was just trying to make things better between the two of us, okay?” Damascus scoffed at that much, shaking his head as he pointedly looked away from the Witch.

“Things feel… weird. You’re snapping more than usual, so I know you’re feeling it too! Things feel weird and Barnabas stopped by earlier to talk to me. He said something about our bond being weak and that we’d both get ourselves killed if we didn’t work together somehow! I wanted to take a shot at it, and I know you don’t give and shit and I know all you think I’m doing is manipulating you but- fucking hell, Damascus!” The redhead was getting more emotional, that familiar bite taking over his tone. “I push, you pull back. I ask some questions, you flip a table. I want something— and you run off into the fucking woods! Just- listen to me and stop-”

The Witch slammed his mouth shut, running a hand through his thick hair as he took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his tone was less harsh. “Believe it or not, I am not going to fuck with your head! So stop acting like everything I saw has some- some hidden meaning! Did you actually stop to think that maybe- maybe I just wanted to try and make things better instead of both of us constantly having to worry about slavery and murder!? You’re not- you’re broken, but you’re not beyond repair, Damascus. Stop acting like you are.”

“Oh, and you never run away from shit?” Damascus snarked. It was easier to fall back into the habit of arguing. It was their big constant throughout the years. He loomed over the smaller man, a hand pressed into the counter behind him. “I kiss you to shut you the fuck up, and you bolted. Haven’t mentioned it since.” He didn’t know why that was what he’d brought up. It was just easier. “You keep fuckin’ actin’ like I have to trust you, but you don’t really even try to trust me. Which makes sense. I’ve tried to kill you in your sleep enough times.”

He slipped back into the old banter. It was simpler. It was fine. This was fine. He could run his mouth. It’d go back to normal. “Ya still act like I gotta trust you, Little Boss. But I can’t even kiss you without you running off because I tried to kill ya once. Oh nooo. Whatever will I do?” The Demon leaned down a bit more, his voice dropping an octave. “You can’t let me touch you, but I have to spill my guts? How unfair, Bossman.”

Before Damascus could blink, the bright pink chain was apparating and yanking him down. Their lips crashed together, their teeth clinking against each other for a few, short seconds. He felt those tiny, anger-filled hands ball into the large jacket he wore. It wasn’t gentle or sweet, it was filled with pure spite and a sudden desire that’d gripped the Witch’s chest and refused to release. Biting, gasping, when they pulled back a faint trail connected their mouths for a brief moment. Ace suddenly gave a frustrated growl, yanking his head away.

Spinning on his heel, the growl turned into a full-on yell as he began to angrily stalk about the kitchen with a fury behind those blind eyes. “You insufferable, bull-headed, idiotic, selfish, stubborn dick!” Ace barked, angrily smacking a bowl of fruits to the floor. “‘I can’t even kiss you without you running off because I tried to kill you once?’ Do you even fucking hear yourself!? You have to realize how fucking stupid you’re being! You don’t want to talk about whatever the fuck has you so angry? You don’t want to touch on the shit you should be getting out of your system? Fucking fine! You do not come at my ass and take that shit out on me simply because I’m fucking trying!”

Damascus stood stunned. One corner of his mouth twitched. His neck ached. So did a lot of things. He felt angry and horny and all sorts of ways and- he went after him. Boxing the Witch into a corner, his arm slammed into the wall next to him. “The fuck do you even expect me to do?” He grabbed the little man by the collar, hooking a finger through that big ass, fancy loop and pulling him against his body. Their lips crashed together fiercely. He growled, tugging on his lips with his teeth, and only pulling back when he tasted blood. “Maybe- I fucking suck at talking-”

He dove in again, his lips devouring Ace’s while Ace tried his best to devour him. It was a battle. Two tigers on a mountain, each trying to kill the other. His fingers locked in his hair. Soft, soft hair. Not like the mud clinging to his. Soft. And so easy to grab fistfuls of.

He’d cried today. He’d screamed, he’d felt so many different kinds of frustration, but he couldn’t communicate those. Didn’t know how. Couldn’t. The words dried in his throat, wilting and then burning in the fires of his rage. Even saying as much made his senses scream that he was making a mistake, he’d take advantage…! But action. Action he could do.

He finally parted just as he barely felt like passing out. He rested his forehead against his forearm as he propped himself into that corner. Damascus didn’t look at Ace. He didn’t know what to say. “... The fuck’re we doing?” He wasn’t sure if he was asking why they were doing this, or what they wanted to do, but… Fuck, he was an angry guy. But he wasn’t that kind of guy.

“You’re scared.” Damascus froze. C’mon, they were just getting somewhere other than the fighting, and- he watched Ace shake his head, speaking before the Demon could interject with a snarky comment, “You’re, right. You’re right, you suck at talking. We’re…”

…

“Working through our shit without talking.” Blind eyes glanced up at him, a foot slapping against his leg just to ensure that he had his attention. “I don’t know what’s going on, but everything is different, right? You still hate me, but we’re both stressed, and- it could be an outlet.” Suddenly, the redhead was reaching up and smashing their lips together once again. It almost felt intoxicating. Like drinking terrible-tasting alcohol just to get drunk.

The wind picked up, suddenly sending Damascus stumbling into the small chair of the breakfast nook before Ace was in his lip and staring up at him with oddly intense, half-lidded eyes. “If you want to? I need a truce for… just for now. And I don’t want to order that you can’t kill me. So- a truce and some stress relief? For now.”

It was funny how many emotions Ace could make him suffer through in the span of a few seconds. Afraid-- how fucking dare-- it’s true-- I don’t know what to do-- confused-- lap-- they’re never touched like-- hopeful-- terrified-- indignant-- he was supposed to be on top--

But in the end, he found his hands on Ace’s hips. He dug his claws in slightly, like a cat testing its prey. “... Outlet sounds kinda nice.”

… It was enough for him to say. He didn’t. Anything else felt far too close. Far too raw, pouring salt in rotting wounds. His claws ran up the back of Ace’s shirt. He flexed those points into his shoulders. It seemed almost… cautious, the way he was touching him. He shifted him slightly. Then moved him back to where he was. “... Truce is fine.”

… He felt so fucking illiterate. But this one time, where the Little Boss was looking over him, for once? That was all he could manage to say. Well. Except for-- “I’m in charge, though.” He watched the Witch blink, mulling over his words before his voice bluntly stated,

“Ummmm, no. I’m in charge. You’re the one that’s tried to kill me and you’re fucking gigantic.” The redhead leaned forward as if his words were indisputable as he began to leave a soft trail of nibbles down Damascus’s neck. He felt himself shiver at those delicate bites. His teeth felt so blunt, so… well, he didn’t feel dangerous. That was the point. He was bigger. He was supposed to protect him in this situation. The Demon refused to move, smirking when he heard Ace scoff and pull back with a whine. The pair locked eyes for a moment, a battle of wills. 

“Damascus,” Ace warned, that faint edge to his tone evident as he kept a firm grip on the Demon’s jacket. They continued to sit still for a few moments before the Little Boss huffed and discarded his jacket somewhere on the floor. “Must you be so whiny now?”

“Fuck yeah. You’re tiny. I should be in charge so I don’t break you in half like a magical toothpick,” Damascus deadpanned. His claws lightly dug into his hips, pushing Ace down into his lap slightly. The Demon leaned forward, skimming his teeth over the Witch’s neck. They left faint, red trails over the skin- just on the border of pain. He nipped over the slowly redding skin, his claws kneading into his hips. “I’m stronger. You’re a noodle. That’s how this works.” He bit down a bit harder. “... Your dick is tiny anyway.”

They’d been around each other for eight years. He’d seen all of Ace’s shit. Compared to his, it wasn’t very impressive. How was that going to do anything for him? He was more concerned about trying to keep his word and not break the little shit in half.

“It is not-!” Ace huffed, rolling his eyes in an over dramatic manner. The redhead leaned forward, pulling Damascus into another kiss as his teeth gently grazed over the soft skin of his lips. The Familiar tried to lean in further, ready to yank him close to his chest and switch positions only to feel his eye twitch when Ace pulled back with a hum. “Fine.”

Ace stood up. Slowly removing each article of clothing, neatly folding them, and placing them on the counter. He removed his fancy earrings and messily ran his fingers through his previously neatly brushed, fancy-ass hair. Then, he walked over to their fridge, opened it up, and happily grabbed a pack of ham. He opened it. Grabbed a slice. Then ate it as he moved out of the kitchen. Damascus blinked. What the fuck-

“Let me know when you feel like behaving!” Ace called over his shoulder, chuckling as he walked through the living room and out into the garden. Damascus blinked, processing what the fuck had just happened before-

“Wh- you little shit-!” He scrambled out of the chair. Was he being played? Yes. Was he too horny to care? Yes. Was that little fucker still going to get fucked? Yes. He was bigger, he was stronger, this was how it worked! He. How the fuck would Ace even-?

No, he wasn’t curious about that. He was curious about how he’d fuck him in the garden. Ace barely stood dirt on his clothes, he doubted he’d allow it on his dick. But chasing him through the woods only to pin him to a tree? That appealed. Would Ace let him? Fuck no.

“Get back here!” He felt a laugh bubbling up in his chest. It burst out of his lips as he chased him into the gazebo. Holding out his arms like he’d stop the naked little ham gremlin from escaping. Despite the fact he had magic. Well, if he meant to really escape, he’d have made a portal already. His face was flushed, his teeth grit. He stalked forward a few steps. “What, your fancy ass wants your brains fucked out in a gazebo?”

“Hmmm?” The little shit raised an eyebrow, smirking at him as he spoke in an oh-so-innocent tone, “Oh, I’m sorry- were you hoping for something? I just thought I’d take a midnight stroll.” Carefully lifting a hand up, Ace floated a few feet off the ground until he met Damascus’s height. “Unless you needed something?” Ace chuckled under his breath as his skinny arms hooked around the Demon’s neck. He leaned over, blunted teeth barely grazing against his earlobe as he whispered, “Is your ego really going to keep me from riding you?”

“Riding isn’t topping,” Damascus blurted, his face flushed from… running. Yup. Ignore the fact that he could run for miles and not get tired. Just. Running. He dug his fingers into his hips. Ace wasn’t getting away this time. Leaning forward, he sunk his teeth just barely into his neck enough to leave a mark, his tongue darting out and rubbing harshly over the small indents. “I’d… still be fucking you. That’s not topping.” He grumbled against his pale skin. The fact that Ace was naked was finally sinking in. His bare skin was soft and smooth, he could feel the rough patches of scars. Burn marks he’d never had answers for, claw marks, little nicks, and pockmarks. If he was poetic he’d call him some sort of little life painting, he didn’t fucking know.

This wasn’t poetic anyway. He turned to dig his teeth into his shoulder next. It wasn’t a full-on bite, but he was going to chew on him for making him chase him around. See the Witch try to cover up all these weird little bite marks. Fucking weirdo. A weirdo he was going to fuck, but still a fucking weirdo. Damascus sighed as he released the floaty bastard to remove his own clothes. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before. Lots of scars. Bite and claw marks from fights, slashes, whip marks from bastards who thought they could control him, stab wounds, bullet wounds.

All badges that showed he’d survived them all.

But the worst ones were on his back. Terrible crisscrossing, jagged things with two thick gashes down either side. Then another at the base of his spine. He’d lived, but barely. He paused when he felt a set of well-manicured nails drag across some of the scars on his olive-colored skin.

“You clearly have not been fucked well if you think riding can’t be topping, Damascus.” A pair of lips placed themselves between his shoulder blades. Hands lingered, never quite leaving him. Despite the way Ace bit the inside of his cheek or the obvious possessive touches he left in his wake, Ace’s face had taken on a softer quality. “If you insist, I’ll give in. Though no matter who is in charge, I’m not going to just listen. It is technically stress relief for both of us. And, unlike some people, I’m fairly flexible.”

Damascus’s face was red. He wasn’t blushing. It was a sex thing. Obviously. It didn’t make sense, how could- it didn’t make sense if Ace was being fucked, how-? He. Was curious. Just in a challenging way, of course, because there was no way he could make that work. Right? “I- will make you a deal.” The Demon turned his face into Ace’s neck. He bit down harder, nibbling his way up to his ear before hissing out under his breath, “You… ‘top’ me-” He put heavy quotes on the word. “- good enough? And we do this again. Not you topping again. But. Just. This.” Damascus pulled away, dark eyes glistening under the moon. “... Or else I get a free day. To myself. Doing whatever I want. And ya don’t getta stop me unless I’m tryin’ to kill ya. Which I might, who knows? Might be the case if I get blue-balled a third time.” He snarkily leaned back against the pillars of the gazebo, his skin almost looking golden in the moonlight.

He watched as a wicked gleam entered the redhead’s eyes, that hair messily framing his face. The freckles along his shoulders and cheeks seemed to stand out more in the faintly lit night air, his body littered with scars overlaying delicately pale skin. An excited giggle left the Little Boss as he grabbed Damascus and practically dragged his ass toward the center of the gazebo.

⬲⦓⧫⦔⟴

“Deal-” He practically shoved Damascus to the ground, a wry grin on his face as he went tumbling down with him. A low hum left the redhead as he settled himself in between the Demon’s thighs, snickering to himself when he saw his dick twitch in anticipation.

“Gonna let me fuck your face, then?”

“Mmmm, not quite,” Ace responded, a dangerous look in his eyes as he snapped his fingers. A strong burst of wind started to press down onto his Familiar’s body, and he only rolled his eyes when he heard him grunt in surprise. “Can’t have you trying to take over when you get a little too impatient, is all. Relax, just sit back and enjoy what I do to you.” The Demon growled in response, but aside from that Ace simply wrapped his mouth around his cock and began to slowly bob his head up and down.

The Archdemon had a strange taste to him. Musky, and smelling of spices Ace couldn’t quite recognize with the faintest tinge of sweat. His nails dragged up the man’s chest, his tongue swirling around the tip as he pushed down until he was pressing against the back of his throat. Ace gagged at the sensation, tears springing to the corners of his eyes but the moment he felt the Demon trying to thrust up into his mouth at the sensation, he was pulling off and the winds were forcing him down once again.

“I’ll stop altogether the next time you try that, big guy,” Ace warned sweetly. It wasn’t true, but the possible threat seemed like enough to stop the larger man from trying anything else as he went back to his work. His jaw ached from the size, his ears faintly aware of the sound of Damascus’s claws digging into the wood underneath him as Ace dragged the blowjob on to an agonizingly long pace with him stopping the moment he thought Damascus was getting too worked up only to start all over again with the same slow, torturous pace.

Finally popping off the Demon’s large member, Ace’s smirk only grew as he leaned back to stare down at the larger man. Strained puffs of breath had misty clouds escaping Damascus’s lips, the wind pressing him down into the wood keeping him from reaching up and yanking the redhead back down onto him. “Feeling impatient?” Ace hummed, laughing when the only response he got was a frustrated growl, “There, there, big guy. We’re getting to the best part now, just relax.”

It felt so strange to hold such confidence around his Familiar. All those years of fear and tension were fading away, if only for just a few, brief moments while his mind clouded over with lust and fascination at seeing this new side to the man he’d spent nearly a decade with. He climbed up between the Demon’s legs, one of his hands only teasingly brushing against his cock before he settled on his broad chest. Leaning down, he yanked the man into a bruising kiss, feeling those sharp, shark-like teeth hungrily devouring him the moment they connected.

It took Ace a moment to fully realize that the strong winds that kept the Demon pinned to the ground had faded in his distraction, freezing up the moment he felt Damascus’s strong arms gripping tightly onto his thighs and practically shoving him down towards his cock. The Demon’s glowing eyes seemed starved, ready to flip the redhead over and fuck him into the dirt with wild abandon. “Hey!” Ace complained, flicking a hand out as the winds came back in full force. His arms hit the old wood, splintering the flooring underneath him as the Witch took a moment to catch his breath and delicately tend to the shallow cuts made in his lips. “We had a deal, Damascus-”

“Well, if ya weren’t so damn slow-”

He cut the man off as he let his dick prod at his entrance, having to hold back a quiet chuckle when he heard the breath in his throat catch. “None of that. We both know that if you were in charge, you’d be taking your sweet ass time too. If only just to fuck with me.”

“You fuckin-” Ace rolled his eyes, just barely sinking down onto his erection enough that he could feel the tip firmly nestling inside of him. A low gasp of pain escaped the Witch as he froze mid-way. Fucking-

Okay-

He-

Was going to have to pick up some lube the next time he was in town if this was going to be a regular thing.

Ace lifted back up, much to his Familiar’s annoyance.

“Ace-”

“Oh shut up, you’re gigantic!”

“Which is why I told you I needed to-”

“Talk about taking over again, Damascus, and I’ll leave. Walk straight back inside and take care of myself. You want that?” A tense silence fell over the two for a few, heart-stopping seconds before the Demon grunted and looked away. “Exactly.” He moved back, letting his hand slowly drag up and down his cock as he watched the precum beading near the tip. He smeared as much of it as he could over the top, only humming and giving the base a small kiss when he heard the Demon growling at him once more.

Repositioning himself, Ace began to slowly sink down onto him, moving at an aching pace that had his dick twitching as he leaned back and braced himself on Damascus’s legs. He couldn’t help the low cry as he forced himself down another inch, his nails digging into the Familiar’s skin for some kind of purchase as he reached the halfway point. He could already feel his legs shaking, mouth lolling open as he tried to catch his breath and keep a hold of himself. When he looked down, he smirked through the nerves in his body that were screaming at him to adjust. Damascus’s gaze was glued onto where they were connecting, his eyes darting up occasionally to witness the expression on the Witch’s face as each painful moment slowly passed.

“Enjoying the view down there?”

“You ain’t gonna be walking for a couple’a weeks if ya don’t keep movin’.” He laughed at that, letting himself fall forward to brace himself on his chest before his legs dropped him down the rest of the way. A sharp scream escaped him as pain shot up his spine, freezing him solid as his back arched and his teeth clenched from the sensation. It was going to be worse in the morning, but for now, he could already feel some of the pain fading away to a dull buzz as he felt the comforting weight of the Demon’s cock pressing against his insides. “Fucking Hell, Ace-” he heard Damascus murmur as he straightened himself out.

Every part of him was screaming to prove the fucker wrong and to make sure he wasn’t ever going to forget it. A fiery determination settled behind his fake-blind eyes, his legs situating themselves underneath him as he began to raise himself up and drop back down onto his dick over and over again. Ace could feel the strange emptiness that was left behind in his wake, quickly filling once again with each movement as he rocked his hips back and forth. One of his hands reached up, grasping onto one of the larger horns on the Demon’s head as he screeched. Damascus panted heavily. A low groan escaped him as Ace began bouncing up and down at just the right angle to have the cock slamming into his prostate repeatedly. Dark spots entered his vision as he threw his head back, drinking in the sounds Damascus was making underneath him as he felt the pressure in his stomach building to an unbearable level.

    Ace was too caught up in the feeling, desperately chasing his own release that he didn’t realize it until his Familiar was roaring and his cum was adding to the pressure inside of him. He froze in his movements, breath stuttering to a halt as he felt himself being filled to the brim. Some leaked out, coating the man underneath him and staining the wood. Shakily releasing the breath that had caught in his chest, he slowly pulled off of the man’s sensitive cock and closed his eyes at the feeling of some of his cum leaking out of him.

Leaning forward, Ace slowly slid up the Demon’s chest with clouded eyes. He settled with his knees on top of Damascus’s shoulders, his hand grasping his cock in his hands and furiously beginning to pump up and down in an attempt to finally reach that release he’d been building to. Damascus locked eyes with him, and had it been any situation? Ace would have been too flustered to hold that hungry gaze. They weren’t done, not by a long shot. Ace knew that the moment he felt his hips jutting forward and watched his cum dribble onto the Demon’s chest and face.

The second the winds died down, he wasn’t surprised when he felt Damascus’s large hands picking him up and pinning him down to the post of the gazebo.

⬲⦓⧫⦔⟴

Ace wasn't exactly sure when they had managed to get back into their bedrooms. What he was aware of was the intense burning pain shooting up his spine any time he tried to shift on the bed. His shoulders arched. His arms felt like jello. He felt like a big puddle of ‘bleh’.

And thus he decided to announce his displeasure with the current state of his body, with a tired groan. Followed by him painfully shifting onto his side and throwing the blankets over his head.

Ugh, everything needed to fuck off, and let him go back to bed. He tried to snuggle further into his sheets but the loud snoring proved too loud to ignore. Ace flipped the covers down, sitting up enough to stare over at the stupid oaf that had passed out on the remains of the nearby couch. It had since broken its legs and now rested awkwardly flush with the wood flooring. Ace narrowed his eyes, grasping one of the scratchy old pillows… and chucking it straight at his head.

“Mmnnhrf-” Damascus snorted awake. He spat the pillow out, deadpanning at the ceiling as he sat up with a groan. “... Fuck,” he grumbled, digging a piece of the couch out of his ass before scratching at his back. “How the hell’re we inside?” He questioned, rubbing his eyes. Ace gave a soft hiss of pain.

“Well, you got pretty excited after the first round, then the second was in the hall, third was… somewhere? Did we end up here on the… couch? Or maybe the bed?” He raised a hand, rubbing over his face before yanking the covers up to his chin and huffing. Everything hurt. Yeah, it’d been a bit. And yes! Ace knew how to adjust! But that didn’t stop him from overdoing it. He knew what he was doing last night, but- he just wanted to show off that Damascus was wrong.

His face warmed at the thought of last night, another bead of excitement coursing through him when he remembered the deal for another time. Was this… going to be a thing? No relationship, obviously. That would be far too toxic and he couldn’t stand trying to adjust to something like that. Still… he wouldn’t mind it being a thing. Just something they did. Every once and a while. “I… don’t think this is what Barnabas meant when he told me we should strengthen our bond.”

…

The redhead began to cackle, his face turning a bright red as he fully realized exactly what they’d both done the other night. He wasn’t sure if it was pure amusement, embarrassment, or both. His laughter just filled the room as he flicked a hand up. Sure enough, the giggling Witch began to float up into the air and move over towards the dresser to find some of his clothes for the day.

He needed a shower. He briefly wondered what exactly he looked like. Damascus had bitten down pretty hard at some point… he hoped he could cover most of the marks up. He scooped up one of his nice, thick collars and carefully tied it around his neck. His train of thought was cut off when he started to hear the loud laughter of his familiar.

“Y-you- pff, is that why you were fucking- o-oh fuck- I can’t breathe- you- y-you- you started spewing all your little small talk shit so you could- well, you got to know some things. Explored all sorts of new secrets I had. Seen the sights, tried new things, uh-” His laughter made him topple over onto his side. “A-and now you can’t even walk. Damn. What, we gonna make this a thing that you- you get a dick up your ass, and I say something like, ‘Oh, my favorite color is light blue?’” his laughter only grew at the thought.

Ace tensed, his face reddening slightly before a sudden gust of wind sent the remains of the couch toppling backward. “Fuck. Off. Damascus.” The laughter was just irking him more. He hadn’t sl- “Barnabas told- stop laughing, you ass! Barnabas told me that we were weak and… and pointed out that I knew jack shit about you! So yes! Yes, that’s why I started asking you questions, sorry I wanted to try and get to know you? I don’t sleep around for shit like that, just- fuck off Damascus. You already showed me that you don’t give a shit how much I try anyway,” he snapped. God, he was just trying to relax. He was so exhausted now and-

He knew he was going to regret this shit. The redhead grabbed another pillow, chucking it across the room at the still-laughing Demon before stalking out and slamming the door with a flick of his wrist. “Ass!” He shouted. Why the fuck had the thought things might be different? They already agreed that this wasn’t going to change anything and that it was just going to be a once or twice type of thing, but…

Sharp claws scratching down his shoulder blades.

Gentle purrs as sunlight pours through the Church windows.

Snark and pleased hums as his blunted teeth leave indents in olive skin.

Fingers brush through his long hair as he studies late into the night.

… Fuck off.

#original story #original characters #angels #demons #tetraphilia #enemies to lovers #enemies to kinda sorta maybe lovers #Damascus is an asshole #So is Ace #They have issues #And trauma #slow burn? #eventual smut #magic #gore #lots of death #They're not good people #monster fucker #tw monsterfucking #exophilia #witches #forced feeding #mlm #Ace & Damascus #tw religion #tw religious assholes (no seriously) #toxic relationship #size difference #oc smut #demon smut

[mlmxreader]

Parties | Dan Torrance x m!reader

Anonymous asked: seal anon- i love a good prompt list so i'm going to drop a few in this 1 ask ( you are under no obligation to do them all) each 1 is a different request. not necessarily asking for smut (since i know it's way too hot to write that) but some of these prompts do scream brat reader and daddy kink

for the ones you do can they be x male reader plz

"Why don't you come sit on my lap?"- dan torrance

summary: you and Dan need a way to pass the time, and thankfully, being invited to a friends, family, and neighbourhood gathering is exactly the perfect way.

tws: swearing, mentions of a TINY bit of teasing, a bit of jealousy/possessiveness

Dan had been working hard for a while, the hospice was seeing even more cutbacks and budget issues than usual, and it was harder and harder to make sure that the work was done properly when the staff were both overworked and underpaid and abused by family members who wanted more but wouldn't listen when Dan and his colleagues told them that they were literally doing everything that they could; when his boss suggested that he take a holiday when things quietened down, though, you practically forced him to take the opportunity, so he did, he took the week holiday that they could offer - all paid.

It started out just fine to begin with, you would lounge around in the flat, go and see Abra and her parents, you would go and see John and Billy, it wasn't half bad; Dan was quite happy to parade you around like a trophy boyfriend, and you were more than happy to indulge him, too. But such bliss wouldn't last forever, and by the middle of the week, you were both getting rather bored, really; you weren't really sure what to do with yourselves, as there was only so many times that you could do something before you got bored of it and it started to feel like routine.

So when Abra's mother said about a party that they were holding for friends, family, and their neighbours while the children were off at someone else's house for a sleepover, you and Dan saw no reason not to go.

The sun was shining, there were free drinks - ranging from energy drinks all through to the fancy cartoned juice that was too sugary for anyone -, free food of every and any kind you could imagine; you and Dan gingerly took a seat at the metal table in the shade, where it was quietest and where you could sort out what you were going to do.

"You good?" You asked, putting your hand on his thigh when he started to bounce his leg.

Almost immediately, Dan's hand was on yours and holding it tightly as he nodded and smiled. "Yeah, just... they said there wouldn't be booze, but..."

"Should I go double check with David?" You tilted your head to the side.

"If that wouldn't be a pain," Dan muttered, giving the palm of your hand a quick kiss before he let you leave him. He watched you talk with Abra's father for a moment before you turned around and, approaching him, you put your thumbs up. "I take it there isn't?"

"Nope," you shook your head, leaning against the table with your arms folded across your chest. "But there is them little sandwiches - you know the cunts, the ones with the cream cheese and cucumber and shit."

He smiled as he nodded, trying not to laugh as he reached into his pocket and brought out the packet of cigarettes that was definitely holding more than it should have. "Why don't you come sit on my lap? We can have a smoke and then get something to eat."

You dragged the ashtray over before you sat yourself on his lap, your back against the arm of the metal chair and your legs swung over the side as you let him light you a cigarette and pass it to you. "We should probably talk to the other people here, y'know."

"Maybe in a bit," possessively, he draped his arm over you as he took a drag from his own cigarette. "I'm not sure if we know many people, though."

"I saw Doctor John on the way in," you mused. "He was with his wife. We could always just stick to them."

"I dunno," he sighed. "Do you really wanna talk about disease for an hour?"

"He's not that bad!" You chuckled, shaking your head. "At least, not when he's in a good mood."

Dan laughed along for a second, the grip that he had on you tightening a little when he noticed that someone, one of the neighbours he supposed, was looking at you. Even without using his shine, he knew that look, he knew the hunger behind it. "One of the neighbours thinks you're not mine..."

You perked up a little, looking around for a moment. "Who?"

"Not sure," he shook his head, but when you moved so that your back was against his chest, his hand falling between your legs and just shy of your cock, he smiled. "Are you trying to put on a show?"

"Nah," you leaned into him. "Not yet, anyway."

"Dan!" John called, raising his hand as he waved.

Dan groaned, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. "Are you ready?"

"I'm ready," you laughed softly. When the doctor gave you a quizzical look, you shrugged. "Long night."

"I see," John nodded, taking up a chair. "Anything interesting?"

"Just the heatwave," Dan replied, pulling back and flashing a smile. He liked John, he really did, he was a close friend - but sometimes he was a little too much at once. "Where's your wife?"

"Oh, she's just getting our drinks. (y/n), how are you?"

"I'm good," you clenched your jaw a little when Dan's hand moved up slightly. "A bit, uh, a bit hot and bothered but otherwise good."

if you liked this fic, please reblog it and feel free to leave feedback (tags, comments, asks, etc) about it 💚

#mlem writes #dan torrance x reader #dan torrance imagine #dan torrance fanfic #dan torrance x y/n #dan torrance #dr sleep fanfiction #dr sleep x reader #dr sleep imagine #doctor sleep x reader #doctor sleep fanfiction #doctor sleep imagine #doctor sleep #ewan mcgregor x you #ewan mcgregor imagine #ewan mcgregor fanfiction #ewan mcgregor x reader #ewan mcgregor

[luna-purple454]

Yoooo wassuuppp???

How's it goiiinnnn????

Have this ig- I might not make a part 2

Tbh I just whipped this out of my ass lol.

TW: Abuse, Panic attack, uh- idk just bad vibes in general (and bad shit going down too ig-)

Superhero isn't exactly the kind of teacher figure you'd expect him to be towards Hero. So when things started to go south, Hero's friend decided that they needed help fast.

Not Yours Truly

Hero was shaking, even more so when he finally heard the door creak open.

The previous mission did not go as planned. An unexpected ambush happened while trying to sneak into Supervillain's base, leading to the injuries of all the heroes that were gathered there. Hero being the one that was supposed to lead them.

"So, I heard that your little mission went south today, hm?" Superhero deadpanned as they closes the door.

Hero freezes on the chair he was sitting on, not daring to move an inch. They needed to choose their words carefully if they ever wanted to get out of this unharmed.

"Well uh-" They started, desperately trying to form a sentence. "W-we were jumped on and outnumbered-"

"Excuses excuses, Hero. You know I don't like those." Superhero says as he walks towards Hero, not even bothering to sit in his chair. He stops right in front of them, an ominous aura forming around him.

They tried not to squirm at the sight and focused on giving an answer. "Yes sir."

Superhero bends down a bit, locking his eyes onto Hero's. "You know, even though I trained you myself, I'm quite disappointed you turned out this way. After all, you are the strongest Hero below me."

'But there's no way I could match Supervillain!' A tiny voice in the do-gooders head said. 'Between me and the two of you, the only way I'd match is if my power was 10× stronger!'

But they bit theired young back and just look away in shame. Hero couldn't do this. They can't believe that they couldn't do this! They were supposed to be strong!

"Look at me Hero," Superhero growled. His face darkens as he forcefully turns their head with his hand.

"Tell me now, did you really think I'll let this slip? You've humiliated me as your teacher!" Superhero's voice was threatening.

Hero squeaked in fear, causing the latter to smile sinisterly. "You think-" Superhero tightens the hold on Hero's chin, "-that getting this reputation of being the best of the best, is so easy?"

Hero, shaking violently now, shuts his eyes tightly while a few tear drops form from the side of his eyes. He knows Superhero can do worse, and he knows for a fact that he might just do that.

"I-"

"Hush, now. I have a suitable punishment for you. Just be good and it'll be over." Superhero carries Hero by their hair, in return causing Hero to whine loudly.

There was no way they could escape this one. The door was probably locked and the whole room was soundproof. They should have seen this coming honestly, but they thought that as long as they behaved, Superhero would spare them. They thought that he might decide to not waste his time on them. To spare them.

But they were wrong. And they were about to pay the price for thinking that they weren't.

It's been a week since Villain has last seen Hero anywhere. And truth be told, they were getting worried. Ever since they've heard that Hero had led a group to try and infiltrate Supervillain's base, they've been worried sick.

They even confronted Supervillain themselves.

But as it turns out, even Supervillain didn't know where "that pestering do-gooder" was. It all led to a dead end.

That was until Henchman brought in a beaten-up-looking Sidekick. The Sidekick in question had her arm around Henchman's shoulder, bruises and wounds littered her body as they slowly limped their way towards Villain.

"Henchman- what is she doing here? And- what happened to her?" They asked a bit flabbergasted. They've seen Sidekick beaten up at times, yes, but this one looked brutal. Everyone knew she could hold her own well enough.

"She has something to say about Hero.." Muttered Henchman, more worried about the person he was holding.

Villain sits up, now interested. Whatever she had to say, if it's about Hero then she can count on them.

"P-please, Hero- a-and Other Hero- they-" Sidekick tried, but failed to say, and went into a fitting cough.

"What about them?"

"Superhero a-and his comrades- they're so brutal- they-" she broke into a sob, barely able to finish the sentence.

Villain was already tense enough, but from the sound of it, Superhero must have done something terrible.

"Just what the hell happened!?" He screamed.

"When we failed to- hic- infultrate Supervillain- Superhero was furious and, and he- hic- beat us up for it-" She sputtered.

"When we heard- that Hero was in Superhero's "care", we knew that- we wouldn't be able to do much- so the others- when Superhero's team finished with us, we- we agreed to save Hero- but we need your help and-" Sidekick let herself collapse onto the floor, she knelt and kept on begging Villain.

"Please! Hero, they're- probably so-" she cried. "O-our last cooperation- you said-"

"That I'd help Hero if I was feeling like it. Yes. I know." Villain was almost done dressing up. "That bitch Superhero..."

Sidekick, finally deciding to raise their head was shocked to find Villain now leaving.

"One last thing-" the Villain turned their heads towards the do-gooder. "Where is Hero right now?"

"W-we're assuming that they're at S-superhero's place. Inside HHQ." Sidekick sniffled, a bit dizzy as the adrenaline started to fade.

Villain turns back and smirks evilly, knowing that around this time of the day, there were few heroes at HHQ.

"Henchman, take care of Sidekick. Also prepare a guest room please."

He walks away as he hears the grunt of Henchman.

Superhero, you've made a grave mistake.

Part 2(??maybe not??)

#villian x hero #hero x villain #hero whumpee #sidekick #not a prompt #snippet #angst #abuse #tw #idk wtf i just made but here have this ig

[averagepoet]

It’s Disability Pride Month!!

So I’m gonna talk about something I’ve been thinking about recently. TW for talk about SA (nothing graphic, didn’t happen, is a fear)

Obviously with the overturning of Roe v. Wade people are worried about contraceptives and gay rights, as those are the things that were directly, vocally threatened. I think there’s an equally, if not more at-risk community when it comes to privacy based rights being taken away. 

My sister, who I’ve talked about quite a bit on here, is severely disabled. She is autistic, cognitively disabled (she doesn’t know how to read, she couldn’t be potty trained, she is at the cognitive ability of a toddler, and she has been since she was a toddler) epileptic, and she has bipolar disorder and OCD. She is violent, so she moved into a group home when I was 14, I am now 20 going on 21. In her first home, that was co-ed, a boy she’d gone to school with assaulted her. They never got along, and he ended up choking her. She had bruises on her neck. Before we were told exactly what happened, we at first were terrified that one of the male caretakers had taken advantage of her.

My sister is on birth control. It helps with her mood swings, which would only get worse on her period, and it’s also a level of protection incase anything Does happen to her like we fear could. Nowadays she lives in a group home with just 3 other women, and I’m pretty sure all of their caretakers are women. But bad things can still happen. At the beginning of the Covid-19 pandemic, many states were talking about caring for people as disabled as her last, meaning people like my sister were seen as second class citizens in those states. Luckily, our state was not one of them. My whole family got Covid at the tail end of 2021/very beginning of 2022. Including my sister. She was the only one who needed to be hospitalized, since all of us, including her, are fully vaxxed. She was fine one day, seemed kind of sick the next. The day she started seeming sick, two caretakers took her to the ER and by the time she got there she had a fever of 107 degrees Fahrenheit  (41.6 degrees Celsius). My mother rushed there and stayed with her, sleeping in a chair for a week while Also Having Covid because my sister is nonverbal and wasn’t able to learn sign language or how to properly use PECS when she was younger. The doctor constantly miscommunicated with my mother (told my mom that my sister would need to go to a nursing home because her current house wouldn’t take her back, which WASN’T TRUE) and said things like “She’s young, so she has a chance.”

She was allowed to go home after a week. She ended up in the hospital again in March. She had long Covid, meaning that the effects of Covid made her weaker, meaning all the meds she’s on were doing too much and causing her extreme fatigue. She was too tired to eat or drink, resulting in her slipping into a coma and experiencing kidney failure. This time, the doctors thought that she might’ve done it on purpose for some reason. When the psychologist came in he kept telling my mom that he wanted to let my sister, who AGAIN is NONVERBAL in every way, try to talk. Obviously he looked pretty stupid.

Anyways, my point here is that medical professionals are already shit when taking care of people like my sister. If anything gets worse for us, things will get EXPONENTIALLY worse for women like her. We need to be looking out for our most vulnerable population right now. I understand people worrying about themselves first, but my sister doesn’t have the cognition to understand she should be scared. Scared of not being allowed birth control. Scared of what could happen to her if she were to be assaulted. Scared of pregnancy. She doesn’t even understand what pregnancy is.

These are people who need to be protected. Disabled people are always the first to be targeted by fascism. Eugenics is the first step taken when people want to start oppressing people, because generally speaking no one does anything when disabled people are hurt. People like my sister are often seen as an extra weight on society, as a waste or resources and money. This is not true. People like my sister are a joy to be around and deserve the best care, not the shit that they deal with now. 

Later on I will be posting about my own experiences as a disabled individual. Thanks to anyone who read this. 

#disability #disability pride month #disabilities #autism #ocd #bipolar disorder #epilepsy #shitty doctors #shitty doctor stories #ableism #averagepoet thoughts

[klinejack]

FINALLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#the education of fredrick fitzell #dylan o'brien #dobedit #obriensource #dailydob #prev. scottstiles #teen wolf cast #!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #IT LOOKS SO GOOD GUYS #THIS IS EXACTLY THE KIND OF SHIT HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN DOING SINCE TW #THAT GROWN UP STILES SHIT #LOSING MY MIIIIIIIINNNNDDDDDDDD #IM GONNA EVEN STOP WORKING SO I CAN GIF IT #HELP ME THINK OF AN EXCUSE

[atl4ntxc]

—character(s), Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmo, Beelzebub, Belphegor, Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon.

—genre, angst.

—cw/tw, name-calling, verbal abuse, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of violence, harsh language.

—notes, i'm not sorry, have this shit. full angst ahead, do not blame me if you cry. The ending is so bad im about to cry.

please do not plagiarize, copy, translate or repost on any platform/website without my consent. the headers used are mine and should not be used by anyone.

how it feels to be replaced 002<

Replaced. That's one way to describe how you feel.

Ever since the new exchange student arrived, you have been neglected and was often left out by the brothers, which made you deem yourself as unneeded and useless. It was slowly killing your confidence and self-worth, which took a toll on your mental health.

Being replaced was not a fun experience, it killed you slowly inside.

It was almost torturing, if it wasn't for Solomon and the others, it would make you feel like you were just a mere human walking in a world full of sinful demons (which you technically are doing).

The exchange student showed numerous signs of superiority complex, which made you feel concerned as time goes on.

She brags smugly about her relationship with the brothers, which made you irritated. To say that you were envious of her was an understatement, as you wish you were as pretty, tall as her.

They made you insecure pretty quickly, and you were not happy with that.

Arguments started between you and the brothers ever since she arrived, and it felt like this was all planned by Ella, or who'd you prefer to call, 'damned witch'.

You were naturally a nice and cheerful person but life wasn't exactly nice.

"Mc, you should eat less."

"Mc, you should eat more."

Make up your mind, please.

I don't like this.

Don't say that.

I thought that we would always be with each other.

I was naive to think that would happen.

They looked genuinely more happy with Ella, and when you realized that, it made you more upset. As days and weeks pass by, you knew that you were once again replaced.

Verbal abuse started once they realized that Ella was 'better than you", in both terms of physical and emotional. The walls that they once crumbled down was now being rebuilt, much thicker and higher with fences surrounding them.

The cheerful and kind mc was now replaced with an unexpressive and cold one, and nobody even bothered to acknowledge it.

Well, Diavolo and Solomon did.

"Mc, we need to talk."

Spoke the sorcerer, putting a hand on your left shoulder, giving a serious look. "I don't have time for that, Solomon. I need to stud-"

He quickly interrupts, and pleaded, "Study, I know. But, it'll only take 5 minutes, it won't be for long." Your eyes moved to the side and back to him, contemplating either to agree or not, but nevertheless, you agreed.

You both sat on a bench in front of a tree, and was engulfed in awkward silence until Solomon spoke up, "Mc, how is everything with the demon brothers? You guys look more distant than usual."

Those words made you stiffened up as you lowered your head and moved your gaze to your lap. "We're... doing fine. Don't worry about it, Solo." Solomon was rather suspicious of your answer and decided to keep that in mind instead of brushing it off like any of the demon brothers.

"Mc, another C for your magical potions class! Why can't you be just like Ella and study more for once?!"

Ella this, Ella that. Why is Ella always the thing on your mind?

I'm suffering by myself.

Yet, you still think about her.

Am I just another garbage that you can easily dispose of?

The brothers snickered in the background, even Mammon. Beel was in the kitchen binge-eating, meaning that he was not here. Mammon has always been the worse at studying and he had the fucking audacity to laugh.

How hypocritical, Mammon.

Laughing at a matter that you, yourself, have problems with.

You have learned to keep your mouth closed, trying to avoid any sort of thing that can lead or relate to physical abuse. They can empower you easily, which made you cower in fear as death struck your mind again.

"Look at me when I speak to you!" You did NOT want to come off as submissive and someone that obeys easily, it angers you to the point where your own blood would boil.

He raised his hand and you raised your own head.

You gave him one of the most terrifying and sharpest glares that he had ever seen, and it made him shiver. Because how could a mere human simply terrify a demon, most specifically the sin of pride, the firstborn?

"I'm looking. What else do you want? Because I..I-I will not tolerate rude..-ness, I am end...ding this conversation." And with that, you snatched your exams paper and stomped to your room, wobbling.

God, you were absolutely furious.

You wanted to rip your own hair out in anger, but then your body tensed as your shortness of breath came and you were experiencing chest pain. You realized that your symptoms were getting worse, slow and slurred speech slowly creeping in.

And another one, trouble walking.

Another, tiredness.

You expect yourself to be bounded onto a wheelchair in a few weeks by now, and you were about to cry.

"Oh, poor Mc! Being insulted again... but, oh well! You're really pathetic, Mc. Once you realize that these brothers belong to me, you'll be nothing but a crumpled paper in the garbage bin."

A high pitched voice rang, mocking your current state as you slowly widen your eyes. Ella. That bitch. That damned witch. Oh how much I wish I could punch you right now.

"Go away, Ella. I do not need your presence. Leave."

"Oh, how poetic, Mc~! Mind writing me a poem would you?"

You gritted your teeth and took a deep breath and recited the short yet insulting poem,

"Roses are red, Violets are blue, Sugar is sweet, and so are you."

"Awe, i kno-" but before she could complete her sentence, you cut her off.

"The roses are wilting, The violets are dead, The sugar bowl is empty. And so is your head."

Ella gasps and bangs on the door, furious. "How dare you!? You have no right to say that, you disgusting lowlife!" She screams, obvious irritation coming out of her.

"shhh... no one cares."

And with that, she storms off, leaving you laughing, successfully humiliating the woman.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

#lucifer obey me #obey me #obey me angst #obey me anime #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me brothers #obey me diavolo #obey me fanfic #obey me fic #obey me levi #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me mc #obey me shall we date #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me satan #obey me solomon #obey me swd #obey me x you #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #꒰🖇꒱ how it feels to be replaced series #꒰🖇꒱ how it feels to be replaced 001

[seijorhi]

Pretty Young Thing

A yandere Erasermic commission for an anon, I hope you like it bby!!

Aizawa Shouta x reader x Hizashi Yamada

TW non-con, breeding kink, pregnancy, surrogacy, pregnant sex, smut, age-gap, nsfw

“Don’t you think she’s a little young, ‘Zashi?”

“It’s up to you both how involved you are during the first stages and the overall pregnancy. Normally we suggest an initial meeting with the potential surrogate for all three of you to get a feel for one another and decide if you want to proceed with the arrangement, but should you wish, we can–”

“No,” he interrupts, sparing Hizashi a fleeting glance. “We want to meet her.”

Beneath the desk, his husband squeezes his hand. 

Hizashi quirks an eyebrow, pausing midway through fixing his hair in the mirror. “Whaddya mean, babe? She’s in her twenties ain’t she?”

He’s not wrong, but that’s not the issue. They picked you, they both picked you, but there’s this lingering unease that he can’t seem to shake. It’s not so much your age specifically, he knows that you’re only a few years younger than the majority of the other women whose profiles they’d seen – you’re old enough to understand what you’re getting yourself into and agree to it, at any rate – it’s just that he doesn’t quite understand why somebody your age would want to do this.

And there’s something different about you, it’s just a feeling of course – he hasn’t yet had a chance to confirm his suspicions, but he wants to meet you and decide for himself.

“We do have a number of potential surrogates with promising Quirks if you’re considering pursuing that option for your child,” the Doctor told them, smiling as they flipped through page after page of profiles.

Hisako, 35, Quirk: Sun-flare

Nozumi, 26, Quirk: Mimic

Koharu, 28, Quirk: Seismic Wave

Chiyoko, 33, Quirk: Golden Whip

Yuzuki, 32, Quirk: Silencer

There’s dozens of them – which is more than he expected. 

Aizawa knew coming in that this wasn’t normally the process, that this agency catered specifically to Heroes – was recommended by the Hero commission – but it still feels strange, just browsing through pages upon pages of potential candidates to carry their baby. 

Was he supposed to be feeling some kind of emotion looking at these profiles? The women were all healthy, each of them attractive, in their own ways (nothing but the very best, the Doctor had reassured them with a smile). This woman, whoever they picked, she’d be carrying their baby, yes, but that was the extent of it. She wasn’t going to be a part of their lives beyond that, so what did it matter if she was nice or liked to cook or play tennis?

There were stats, of course. Their education and IQ’s and little snippets of history, but they were all impressive, otherwise they wouldn’t have been included. Were they supposed to choose based on their Quirk? One that might compliment his or Zashi’s? Quirks were troublesome things to begin with, and–

“Wait-wait, Shou, hold up,” Hizashi’s voice cut through his musings, long fingers wrapping around his wrist midway through turning the page. “Go back one.”

He does as he’s told, flicking the page back.

Y/N, 23, Quirk: N/A.

A lone eyebrow lifts. Quirkless, huh? A blank slate.

But that’s not what caught Hizashi’s eye.

“She’s kinda cute, don’tcha think, baby?”

It feels weirdly like a first date, nervous jitters and all – though he’d like to believe he’s better at suppressing that now then back when he was a teenager. Aizawa hasn’t bothered to shave, but his hair’s tied back in a loose bun and he’s pulled out a suit for the occasion – he’s even wearing a tie for fuck’s sake. Beside him, Hizashi’s ditched his usual leather jacket and ripped jeans for, well, nicer jeans and a button up floral shirt.

And then there’s you. Standing in the doorway of the cafe glancing around like a little lost lamb, he recognises you instantly from the picture on your profile, but the moment your eyes meet his he’s struck with the realisation that the picture didn’t truly do you justice.

Because you do look young (at least compared to their thirty odd years) and it might just be the hesitant smile adorning your face as you start to make your way over, or the charming little summer dress falling to your mid-thigh, swishing hypnotically with every step, but Shouta feels something catch in his chest the more he stares. You really are… what was the word ‘Zashi had used? Cute?

Yeah. You were cute. 

The agency had offered to host this little meetup at their clinic, and while he hadn’t particularly cared one way or the other, Hizashi’d been insistent. He’d wanted this to feel ‘natural’. 

‘I don’t really wanna meet our potential baby mama for the first time in some boring, sterile office, d’you?”

He’d only bitten back a sigh at the time, shaking his head. It wouldn’t have been worth upsetting him by reminding him that the girl was technically a glorified incubator. He had every intention of being involved in this process, but this initial meeting was to establish two things. Firstly, that after meeting them, you still felt comfortable with carrying their baby, and secondly, he wanted to make absolutely certain that you weren’t trying to get anything out of this.

Oh, he knew you were getting paid, handsomely, he’s sure, but the thought that you, or any of the women the agency had fobbed their way might not all be in this for altruistic reasons had crossed his mind. 

You were just so young.

But he was more than happy to determine those two things in a ten minute meeting at the agency. 

Hizashi was not, and so here they are. 

Ten minutes in, and he finds himself glad of his husband’s insistence. Hands wrapped around your mug of coffee (you should enjoy it while you can) you chatter away with Hizashi, beaming and blushing, tripping over your own words in your nervousness. 

You’re about as dangerous as a kitten, and he allows himself to relax enough in his seat to enjoy watching the blonde charm you. 

“So why don’t ya tell us a little about yourself, songbird?”

“There’s really not all that much to tell,” you say with a sheepish laugh, but they listen as you talk anyway. It’s nothing the profile hadn’t already told them, nothing spectacular that would make you stand out in the crowd. 

And yet, an hour and a half later, you’re trying in vain to distract him and Hizashi both so that you can slip your card in with the bill to pay for lunch, and Shouta finds himself oddly amused.

There were other candidates – ones with impressive Quirks, smarter than you, more accomplished than you, older than you–

“Ya sure you don’t want a lift, sweetheart? It’s no trouble.”

You smile again, demure little thing, and shake your head. “Oh no, really it’s okay. It’s not far and… I like the walk. Thank you, though.”

– but none nearly so endearing, he thinks. 

And when they watch you disappear into the crowd, one final wave thrown over your shoulder, Hizashi’s fingers lace with his once more.

“So she’s our baby mama, huh?

He’s silent for a moment. “I suppose so.”

—

The agency recommended, at least in the initial stages before the implantation procedure took place, that any communication between the three of you should go through them. 

Hizashi had your number programmed into his phone before you’d even left the cafe, and he’s been texting you every day since – to the point where it wasn’t unusual for Shouta to come downstairs and find Mic chuckling to himself, fingers dancing across the keyboard on his phone as he replies to whatever message you’ve sent. 

Shouta, for his part, tends to message only to check in.

How are you feeling? Any side effects from the meds?

Your response comes a little slower than usual, and it’s almost an hour before finally he receives it.

Sorry they’re cracking down on us using our phones at work :( 

Everything’s good so far! The doc said i should be on track for our appointment next week!

… is it weird that I’m a little excited haha?

His brow furrows at that. You hadn’t mentioned a job – at least not to him, he’d have to ask Hizashi later whether you'd said anything to him. 

Why on earth were you still working? He’d seen the contracts, he knew exactly how much you were getting paid for this little venture, wasn’t that enough to support you?

He makes a brief mental note to make sure that whatever job you were working at, you stopped long before the baby was due. You might just be a surrogate, but he’d be damned if his baby was put in jeopardy because you were needlessly exerting yourself. 

Nevertheless, his expression softens somewhat as he reads the second part of your message. You were excited, hm? 

Well, that made three of you.

Both he and Hizashi’d been willing to come along to the clinic with you – he’d even submitted a formal leave request to take the day off from UA, but the Doctor had assured him that it wasn’t necessary.

“The procedure is quick and relatively painless. She’ll be home within a few hours, and so long as she remains off her feet and doesn’t undertake any strenuous activity, she will be perfectly fine.”

It hadn’t sat particularly well with Hizashi who’d spent the afternoon huffing and complaining about the clinic trying to kick them both out of the process. That much, he expected – he understood it to an extent; the agency catered specifically to Heroes, most of their clientele probably had busy schedules (which was true in their case as well). There wasn’t a need for them to be present at such a minor procedure, even if it did hopefully mark the beginnings of your pregnancy. 

What he hadn’t expected was the twinge of discontent he felt settle in his own stomach. The Doc might’ve preferred they stay out of this, but at the end of the day he really didn’t give a shit what she or the agency wanted.

So he messaged you.

Do you want us there with you?

He watches those three little dots bounce for almost a solid minute before finally your reply comes through.

No, it’s okay, you don’t have to come. The Doc said it wouldn’t take long and I don’t wanna be a burden for you guys

It’s not really an answer to his question, and he briefly wonders if Hizashi might be right about the agency interfering, but he’s not going to fight you on it. 

At least, that’s his plan until Principal Nezu pulls him aside at the end of a staff meeting and tells him that he’s found somebody to cover his classes tomorrow if he still wants the day off. 

“Ya gotta go, babe. One of us should be there for our ‘lil mama.”

He asks you what time your appointment is and there’s a surprisingly pleasant fluttering in his stomach when you walk through the clinic doors and catch sight of him sitting in the waiting room.

It’s a momentary surprise – you almost do a double take, but a smile lights your face and you ignore the receptionist in favour of racing towards him. 

“Shouta, I thought you weren’t coming!” Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing tightly.

He finds himself returning your hug – albeit somewhat stiffly – but he’s glad he made the decision to come. The Doctor wasn’t wrong, you’re only in with her for just under twenty minutes, and when you come out there’s a tremble in your legs, but you seem otherwise fine.

It goes without saying that he’s driving you home, though you try once again to beg him off.

Kitten, when are you gonna learn that so long as you’re carrying his and ‘Zashi’s child, they’re going to go out of their way to make things easier for you – whether you want them to or not.

Yet your quiet discomfort on the drive home doesn’t slip past his attention. Maybe it’s because he’s become accustomed to your nervous rambling, but there’s something odd about the way you’re sitting so quietly, fingers twisting in your lap as you stare out the window. He knows that if Hizashi was here, he’d be chatting your ear off, but he’s never been one to fill silence with unnecessary small talk.

Though he can’t exactly help the way his own mind drifts. Are you in pain? The Doc didn’t say anything about there being any pain, only that you should rest over the next few days, so it shouldn’t be that. Perhaps you’re just lost in your thoughts – it’s strange for them having a surrogate, he can only imagine what’s going through your own head now that it’s actually begun. He hopes that you aren’t having second thoughts, almost opens his mouth to ask before thinking better of it.

You’re entitled to your thoughts and feelings, whatever they may be, and if you wanted to talk to him about them, you would. 

It’s not until the scenery outside starts to change and the fancy sky-scrapers give way to dingy apartment blocks and dilapidated buildings, crammed in together too tightly that he realises that it’s not discomfort that’s written across your face, but embarrassment.

This was your neighbourhood?

Shouta recognises it, and really he should have picked up on it earlier when you’d given him the address – he’s spent more than a few nights patrolling the area. It’s a hotspot, not for the high-class, dangerous villains plastered across the news every night, but thieves and murderers. Petty thugs who prey on the weak, those addicted, with nowhere else to go… you live here?

Surely with the money you’re getting from the agency, and your job on top of that, you can afford a better neighbourhood.

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, watches as you all but shrink into your seat, and when you speak, your voice is little more than a whisper.

“You can just drop me off at the corner here.”

He pulls the car to a stop by the curb, and for a moment neither of you speak. He doesn’t know what to say, and judging from the way you’re nibbling on your bottom lip and glancing up at him, you don’t either. 

“I–”

“Thank you,” you cut him off with a tight smile. “For coming today, and for… this. I-I really do appreciate it.” 

The words aren’t quite sincere, but he only nods – noting the miniscule sigh that escapes your lips at the action. “Of course. Anytime you need us, just call, okay.” He waits for you to nod before continuing, “Do as the Doc said, rest.”

You all but scamper from the car after saying another goodbye, though Shouta waits until you’ve disappeared into the crumbling apartment block before driving off.

Maybe the inside is nicer, but he sincerely doubts it.

—

“You should’ve seen it, ‘Zashi.” The two of them are curled up on the love-seat, half empty containers of takeout littering the coffee table in front of them. “I just can’t figure out why she’d be living somewhere like that.” 

The blonde frowns. He’d been messaging you throughout the afternoon, so he knew that the appointment had gone fine. It wasn’t that he expected to come home and find the erasure Hero jumping for joy, but the subtle discontent on Shouta’s face had been enough to make him pause. 

“You’re worried about our ‘lil songbird?” he asks, pushing away just enough so that he could turn to study his face. 

The short nod says plenty. Of course he is – even if you weren’t potentially carrying his child, you’re young, beautiful and far too innocent for your own good. In places like that, you were easy pickings, and you don’t even have a Quirk to protect yourself. His job requires him to assess his students’ strengths, their failings and weaknesses and their progress. He doesn’t need to see you in action to know that you wouldn’t be able to hold your own in a fight. 

It bothers him. 

“She’s not safe there.”

Hizashi hums, but instead of settling back against his husband’s side, he straightens up further. “Well, why don’t we go take a look-see, huh handsome? Make sure our sweet thing’s pad’s all safe ‘n sound, put your mind at ease. Whaddya say?”

As he stares into those imploring green eyes, Shouta knows that he should say no. 

Concerned or not, there’s still a line, privacy that should be respected. He’s tired and this is the only night that they both have off this week. Your place is almost twenty minutes from theirs, and it’s already late – almost midnight. The list goes on, there are a thousand reasons that he should say no.

“Fine. Just for tonight.”

—

Two weeks later, the two Heroes receive a call from the agency; the blood test came back positive – you’re pregnant. 

In the blink of an eye, at least to Shouta, this becomes startlingly real. You’re pregnant. They’re going to have a baby. Boy, girl, it doesn’t matter… You’re pregnant, and as his husband ends the call and yanks him by his collar into a fierce kiss, he realises how important this is.

How important you are, just by the virtue of carrying their baby.

They invite you over for dinner to celebrate, and while he’s never been one to flaunt the comfortable lifestyle he and Hizashi have, he does find it strangely pleasing to watch you wonder wide eyed through their apartment. He’d be the first to admit it’s big – bigger than they’d ever probably need, though with the baby on the way maybe they’ll finally be able to make use of all that extra space.

Mic grabs you by the hand, eagerly dragging you towards the nursery he’s already begun setting up. “Once I heard the good news, I just couldn’t wait to get started! Our little rockstar’s gonna have the sweetest crib, don’tcha think? Ain’t it amazing?” 

He’s already started painting and there’s a wooden cot halfway assembled and the beginnings of a musical mobile pushed off to the side waiting for him to return to it. It’s hardly close to being finished, but you just grin, gazing at the mural he’s started on the walls. “It’s amazing,” you say.

“I knew ya’d like it!” he beams.

Shouta hangs back as Hizashi guides you through the rest of the apartment, chattering excitedly away. He likes seeing his husband happy, and somehow you manage to bring it out of him without even trying. It’s still early days but Shouta has to admit that already you’re more to him and Hizashi than he expected, or even anticipated. You fit well with them, seamlessly, as if you’d always been a part of their lives.

After dinner, they drive you home despite your protests, and Hizashi insists they walk you up to your apartment. You’re no doubt under the impression that they’re doing it to be gentlemanly, missing the shared looks between the two men as they pass the out of order elevator and tread down hallways with stained carpet and peeling wallpaper, ignoring the leering yellow eyes of your neighbour, peeking out from the crack in the doorway as they bid you goodnight, ‘Zashi squeezing you extra tight.

There’s an uncharacteristic hardness in his husband’s eyes as they both slip back into the car, “No way in hell are we lettin’ her stay here.”

On that at least, there’s no arguments from him.

—

Hizashi, unsurprisingly, is the one to bring it up.

The three of you are grabbing a bite to eat after your first ultrasound. This time, both of them had been insistent on being there, and he’s glad they were. Seeing that grainy image of their baby, hearing it’s heartbeat – strong and steady – had filled him with an emotion he’d never felt before.

It was happiness and excitement and wonder and awe all mixed up and wrapped into a gut punch that stole his breath away, and while Hizashi had burst into a loud fit of tears, burying his face in Shouta’s neck while reaching for your hand, he’d managed to keep his own at bay.

Mostly. 

Regardless, you have little choice but to indulge them when they drag you out to one of the blonde’s favourite restaurants – on the proviso that they had you home in time to get ready for work.

“Songbird, there’s something the two of us have been meanin’ to ask ya.”

You perk up a little, hastily swallowing down your mouthful of food so you can reply, “Oh?”

He wonders if you notice the way your hand already instinctively drifts to your stomach, your barely there baby bump. 

“Why’re ya livin’ in a place like that, sweetheart?” You freeze, the corners of your smile slipping, but Hizashi continues, “Ain’t the money from the agency enough? We know you’re working that other job as well… we just…”

Shouta can physically feel you tensing like a bunny caught in a trap, and he doesn’t know what possesses him to reach out, sliding a hand across the table as you pale, but you take it regardless. 

“Talk to us. Please,” he begs. “We just want to understand what’s going on. You have to realise that it’s not exactly a safe neighbourhood, and it’s not just you we have to worry about anymore.” Dark eyes flicker pointedly towards your stomach. 

It’s a dirty tactic, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the truth. Did you realise how much danger you were truly in? Not just from the common street thugs – though frankly he thinks it’s nothing short of a miracle that you’d managed to get this far unscathed – but any number of villains with a grudge against either one of them, or Heroes in general. If they found out a pretty, quirkless thing like you was carrying their baby, how long do you think it would take before they tracked you down and kicked through your door?

Your eyes flicker between the two of them, and you swallow shakily. “I-it’s…” you break off, taking a deep, steadying breath, “It’s all I can afford right now.”

“But, hun, what about–”

“I know,” you say. “The money for the surrogacy isn’t for me. It’s money I owe.”

Neither Hero speaks a word as you talk, telling them about your uncle, the man who raised you, how his business went under a few years back and you both lost almost everything.

Shouta isn’t surprised to find out that your uncle turned to loan sharks when the banks turned him away and threatened to take your house. Alarmed at the man’s blatant stupidity, yes, but not surprised. Your eyes start to water when you tell them about how he died a few months back – a hit and run –  and the visit you were paid only a week later, informing you that your uncle’s debts were now yours, and payment had better come through quick. 

Your hand’s trembling in his by the time you finish. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t have any options, I didn’t know how else to get the money, and they said that i-if I didn’t pay up, they-they’d–” a sob catches you unawares, and once again it’s Hizashi who’s out of his seat and at your side in a heartbeat, sliding into the booth beside you, pulling you into a one armed embrace. 

It’s his eyes that you meet, and Shouta understands. He doesn’t need you to explain what threats were made. You were scared, terrified probably, and you had every right to be. 

“I didn’t know what else to do,” you sniffle. “I’m sorry for lying to you.”

Really, he should be furious. Disappointed at the very least. 

“Move in with us,” he says instead, ignoring your sudden, startled intake of breath. “At least until the baby comes.”

He should be, but this works better.

—

It takes a little longer than he’d like to convince you, but the two of them wear you down and a few weeks later Shouta finds himself carting boxes of your things up into the spare room in their apartment.

Despite the fact that you’re pregnant with their baby, you’re terrified of being a burden to the two Heroes, but it’s because of the baby that you eventually relent.

They want to be close, involved. They want to know that you’re safe – and their apartment’s state of the art security system will make sure of that when they’re not home with you. They want to make sure that you’re not exerting yourself, that you’re eating the right things and not running yourself ragged at a job you don’t need, stressing yourself out needlessly and putting the baby at risk.

All of that’s true. 

It’s just not the entire reason. 

At first, he convinces himself that it’s for Hizashi, as well as his own peace of mind, but he’s starting to wonder if that’s the full truth of it. Because of course he wants to keep a close eye on the pregnancy – he knows that this can’t be easy on you. You have no family left, and if you have any friends then they’ve done an excellent job of keeping you at arm's length. 

You have nobody but them, and it does bring him some modicum of peace to know that you’re just down the hall if anything goes wrong. 

Hizashi adores having you there with them, having somebody else to cook for, somebody to come home to at the end of a long day. More than a few times, they’ve both returned from a night of patrolling to find you curled up on the couch, fast asleep with a blanket over your legs and a book slipping from your fingers, having tried, and failed, to wait up from them.

You tune into Mic’s radio show on the nights you can’t sleep, and on the odd mornings that you wake up before either of them, they come downstairs to find bacon sizzling away in the pan, a pot of coffee already brewing. There’s something oddly charming about the way you pout while you pour it for them, knowing you can’t have any yourself.

“You’re a special kind of masochist, ya know?” Hizashi teases, sidling up beside you to grab a cup.

You sigh dejectedly. “I must be,” you reply as he plants a kiss on your cheek and squeezes your side affectionately, but it’s impossible to miss the sparkle in your eyes. You’re happy here, with them. 

Shouta warns you from pushing yourself too much, but even he can notice the apartment’s tidier when they arrive home than when they left, the freshly baked goods sitting on the countertop that weren’t there yesterday.

“I just… I know I can’t pay you back for all of this, I just wanna make myself useful,” you tell him one night when he asks about it. “I still feel like I’m taking advantage of the both of you, staying here…”

“You’re carrying our baby, that’s enough,” he reminds you, his calm, steady voice brooking no disagreement. And yet, as dark eyes study your face, he can tell that it’s not enough for you, so he sighs, and in a quiet voice adds, “We like having you here.”

He likes having you there. Sitting at the dining room table, helping him grade papers, lounging around on their rare days off together – helping Mic set up the nursery, volunteering to go shopping with them for baby stuff. He’s lost count of how many pregnancy books you’ve bought, pouring over them with a fine tooth comb late at night – often falling asleep in the process, leaving him and Hizashi to carry you off to bed with a barely there kiss to your forehead.

You fit between them in a way he hadn’t quite expected. Not a burden, not an interloper, but as if there was always a place carved out for you with them, and it’s only now that they realise that there was something missing to begin with. 

It doesn’t quite click until he finds his thoughts drifting towards you at work, his fingers drumming along the top of his desk so he can stop himself from reaching for his phone. He’s not usually so distracted teaching, and as the hours drag he finds himself glancing towards the clock on the wall, counting down the hours, minutes, until the day is done and they can return home to you.

Shouta can’t pretend for much longer that there isn’t something oddly satisfying watching your belly grow and your breasts swell as your pregnancy goes on. You’re glowing, and soft and beautiful, and he could kid himself and say that it’s just the normal effects of pregnancy, but there’s some part of him that’s strangely proud when your shirt rides up and he catches a glimpse of your baby bump – knowing it’s his child you’re carrying. His and ‘Zashi’s and yours.

And oh, he wishes that it was only pride that burns through his veins at the sight of you, barefoot and pregnant, pottering around the apartment. Hizashi’s the one to hold back your hair and rub your back soothingly when your morning sickness hits, but it’s Shouta who takes care of you when you start complaining about aching muscles and joints.

He tells himself that it’s purely about comfort, namely yours, ignoring the way you flush and stutter when he drags you up the stairs and pushes you gently towards the bed, telling you to lie down on your side. 

It’s just a massage, yet the moment his fingers run along your soft skin and a breathy moan slips from parted lips, the very last vestiges of the facade he’d built up in his head crumble into dust. 

You’re perfection. Bared and beautiful beneath him, making the prettiest noises for him as he works away at your muscles, expertly releasing all of your tension. He’s glad that your eyes are shut and you’re lost to the bliss, you don’t notice the way his breath hitches and becomes rough and heavy, the way his cock twitches in his sweats, blood flowing south as you arc into his touch. 

Such a responsive little thing, aren’t you?

“You’re amazing,” you moan, and though you can’t see that either, Shouta smirks. “Please never stop.”

It’s a good thing he has restraint, because it’s taking absolutely all of his to stop himself from taking more. 

He wants all of you. 

Wants to tease and taste.

Take.

Wants to hear those pretty fucking moans take the shape of his name… Hizashi’s name.

And maybe he might have felt guilty for those perverse thoughts, for the way he wants to tear the rest of your clothes off and fuck you nice and proper, breed you–

If his husband hadn't been standing by the door, watching the two of you for the last ten minutes. Shouta doesn’t need to look to know that it’s not anger or jealousy burning in his gaze.

He knows that his husband’s far from disgusted, knows it from the way Hizashi grabs his wrist on his way back down the hallway, pulling him instead to their bedroom and shoving him back onto the mattress with a wicked grin.

There’s something positively feral in the blonde’s expression as he hovers over him, forcing Shouta back down with a hand splayed across his chest, the other reaching down to his sweats to free his aching, needy cock.

“You’ve been holding out on me, baby,” he sings.

—

They have time.

Your due date is still months away, and you’re comfortable, here with them. 

There’s no reason for you to consider leaving until the baby’s born, and Shouta is adamant about keeping it that way. Hizashi can huff and puff and moan all he likes, he knows that they have to take this thing with you slowly. He won’t risk spooking you and losing any chance they have.

That’s not to say that he doesn’t empathise with the blonde, what with all the affectionate hugs and touches you thoughtlessly bestow, the way you’ll plonk yourself down on the couch between them so they can feel when the baby’s kicking.

Hizashi’s gotten to the stage where he’ll drop to his knees to shower your stomach in kisses when he gets home of an evening before sweeping you up into a hug of your own, his face a mask of perfect innocence when he catches sight of his husband’s less than impressed expression over your shoulder. 

Having you here with them, this little temporary faux family dynamic the three of you have found yourselves in is easy, domestic and nice. It should be enough, but it’s not.

“It’ll be weird, going home after this,” you hum absentmindedly one night.

Preoccupied with the noodles you’re toying with in your bowl, you miss the sharp look shared between both men.

“Whaddya mean, sweetheart?”

If you notice the odd stiffness to the words, you pay it no mind, simply shrugging. “I mean once the baby’s born. I dunno, I think I’ve become too comfortable here freeloading off of the two of you…” you glance up, smiling a little. “Going back to work and finding a place on my own again, starting fresh, it’ll be different, that’s all. Not bad different,” you hasten to clarify at the blonde’s nearly stricken face, “just… different.”

“Well it’s not like we’re gonna be forcing ya out, hun! You’re always welcome to jam with us for as long as you want.”

You shake your head with a rueful little laugh, “We both know I can’t do that. You’ll have the baby to worry about and the last thing I want is to feel like some awkward interloper, always getting in the way – especially after everything you guys have done for me.”

Hizashi’s fingers dig into the meat of his thigh, tightening with every word out of your mouth.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m not saying I’m never going to come around to hang out or anything, but once this baby comes I’m gonna have to figure out what I’m going to do with my life.” Your eyes meet his, wide and hopeful, and Shouta’s reminded once again of just how young you really are. “I can go anywhere, do anything. It’s kind of exciting, don't you think?”

It was a mistake, to think that you’d come around to them on your own. 

You were young and naive, still living out a rose tinted fantasy where the world was your oyster and all you needed to do was reach out and take it. And maybe he’s partially to blame for that, taking your problems and getting rid of them, making you feel safe and comfortable, not realising that that security didn’t extend outside of these four walls, outside of their protection.

They need you, but kitten did you ever stop to think that you need them, too? 

Shouta had made the mistake of forgetting how this all came to be – you hadn’t wanted a family, you were just trying to save your own skin. You still think that you can make it on your own, without them. 

He supposes he shouldn’t blame you for your misplaced idealism, it’s only natural after all. Some people just don’t know what’s best for them.

They need to be shown.

—

You don’t stir as your bedroom door swings open. 

Not as Hizashi pulls back your sheets, groaning softly at the sight of your swollen breasts and precious baby bump, stretching against the confines of your silk pajamas. “Ain’t she a fuckin’ dream, Shou?”

Not as the blonde busies himself in carefully sliding your sleep shorts down your legs, or even as Aizawa gathers up your wrists, pressing a kiss to each one, and binds them to the headboard with his capture weapon.

“Gentle, ‘Zashi,” he murmurs when the blonde crawls up on the bed beside you. “Nothing too rough.”

You wake as long fingers caress your cheek, tilting your face towards him so he can kiss you properly.

Shouta hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights, but bathed under the soft glow of moonlight from your window, he watches your eyes flutter open, the momentary confusion that flashes across your face followed by realisation, horror, as you try to jerk back and cry out–

Only Hizashi doesn’t give you the opportunity, winding his hand through your tresses and anchoring you against him, forcing your lips open so that he can deepen the kiss and groaning appreciatively when a terrified whimper escapes you. 

You still haven’t noticed Shouta kneeling on the bed between your legs, too preoccupied by Hizashi’s tongue sliding against yours. “Relax, kitten,” he says, laying his palm on your thigh, letting his thumb glide over the smooth skin.

“Let us take care of our cute ‘lil baby mama, yeah songbird?” Hizashi adds, breaking away from the kiss with a lovesick grin.

Tonight is solely about you. Your pleasure, whether they have to tease it from you willingly or not.

Your tears are kissed away, your broken little pleas swallowed under ‘Zashi’s greedy lips as Shouta shuffles down the bed, nudging your thighs further apart so he can lie between them.

The keening cry that leaves you at the first stroke of his tongue against your warm sex is a thing of beauty.

Blood rushes to his cock as you writhe, and he tightens his grip as much as he dares to keep you locked in place as he delves in again. There’s little finesse to the way that Shouta eats your pussy – it’s a simple study of reactions; the way you gasp and shudder when the tip of his tongue circles your clit, the way your pussy clench and quiver around the muscle when he eases it inside of you, massaging your spongy walls.

Never one to be left out, Hizashi decides that there’s a better use of his attention than just your lips. With your arms bound, he’s not able to take your top off entirely so he settles with yanking it down, freeing your breasts.

“Fuck baby, you’re so pretty. Look atcha!”

Your tits must be tender and aching, because the moment Hizashi’s mouth envelops one of your nipples, sucking at the pert nub, a fresh sob bursts from your lungs and you’re trying desperately to wriggle away.

Hizashi just frowns, breaking away for a second to brush a stray lock of hair back behind your ear, “Ah shit, sorry babe! I’ll be gentle, promise.”

Shouta’s far too preoccupied by the intoxicating taste of your sweet cunt to notice whether he actually does or not, but he trusts him not to push you too far. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.

Your baby bump is cute and all, but Shouta wishes that it wasn’t blocking his view of your face – he wants to watch every little expression as he slides two thick fingers into your dripping cunt and your hips buck up to meet him. It’s a twisted kind of pride he feels, pride fused with filthy, maddening pleasure as he pulls a string of choked moans from you with just a few shallow thrusts of his fingers.

His jaw’s slicked with your juices, your cunt sucking his fingers deeper when he turns his attention back to your poor, neglected clit. He can tell that you’re close, not just from the needy whimpers and the way your muscles are tensing beneath him, but the desperate canting of your hips, rocking up against his face even as you beg for relief.

“Shouta, Shouta, please– oh god, please stop, p-please!”

He longs to wrap a fist around his throbbing cock, desperate to help relieve the burning ache deep in his gut as you cum for the first time on his tongue. Or better yet, maybe have Hizashi wrap that perfect mouth of his around his cock and suck him off–

But now’s not the time for him to be greedy. 

Rough fingertips prod at your walls, searching for that hidden little spot that’s gonna make you go wild–

You almost convulse when he finds it, and Shouta can’t help but smirk against your cunt as you tighten and quiver around his digits. With Hizashi playing with your tits, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along your neck, Shouta’s lips wrapped around your clit, tongue flicking at the sensitive pearl as he suckles on it and long, thick fingers driving you to madness with each and every stroke, it’s too much for your poor, pregnant, oversensitive body to handle.

You cum with a strangled shriek, and Shouta almost moans at the flood of juices that gush from your trembling cunt onto his waiting tongue. 

“How’s she taste, baby?” Hizashi asks, green eyes blown wide, his own erection straining against his leather pants. 

Shouta doesn’t waste a beat, pushing himself up with one arm and grabbing his husband’s wrist with the other, yanking him into a fierce kiss – letting him taste your honeyed juices on his tongue.

Fingers tangle in dark locks, tugging him closer, and ‘Zashi lets out a low, throaty groan. It’s rough and eager, a slow burning frenzy that makes the blood in his veins sing with excitement. With their lips still locked, the blonde hastily yanks at the zipper on his pants, freeing the painfully hard member with a tight hiss. 

But when he finally does break for air, it’s not Shouta that he addresses, but you, lying spent, crying and breathless between them, beautiful in your fucked out state.

“You can’t expect to put on a show like that and not get me all worked up, sweet thing,” he coos, taking his flushed, throbbing cock in hand and giving it a few slow, cursory pumps. “I’m gonna fuck ya so good, baby – have you singin’ like a little birdie for me,” his eyes meet Shouta’s, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips. “Nothin’ but the best for our cute ‘lil wife. Whaddya say, songbird? Lemme make you feel all nice and special, yeah?”

#yandere bnha #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere hizashi yamada #yandere erasermic #yandere shouta aizawa x reader #yandere hizashi yamada x reader #shouta aizawa x hizashi yamada x reader #tw non con #tw pregnancy #tw breeding kink #tw age gap #oh my god it's like 5am why do i keep doing this to myself

[warmau]

☆: bounty hunter! you x thief! minghao au tw: ment of violence/weapons | this was in my drafts so i decided to finish it

“there’s no way in the world any of you are going to catch him, but if you do -”

the head of the police, hong joshua, stands tall and straight behind the podium

the gold of his medals shines harshly under the white light of the town courthouse 

and your mind wanders off as you think about the pretty penny you could get if you were to just happen upon stealing one of those medals....not that a bounty hunter should ever steal 

“but if you do, the police will wipe your own felonious records clean and even offer a good amount of monetary compensation.”

that perks your interest, since you’re currently looking for some extra cash

plus being a bounty hunter isn’t a so called ‘clean’ job - you have stains on your record you’d like to see get erased.

and you know mr. hong doesn’t like you all that much so having him be the one clean up for you is sickly satisfying to some part of your psyche 

you’ve been working in this shitty underground world for too long 

someone’s voice comes from the back of the interrogation room and you don’t even have to look to know that it’s that newbie seokmin 

all excited and bouncy and not-yet-dead-and-cold-inside like the rest of the people around you

“who is the criminal we’re chasing?”

the monitor on the rolled up caddy beside the policeman flickers on 

“xu minghao. he’s a notorious thief in the city, responsible for the last string of high art robberies from the homes and personal collections of the elite.”

you snort, the ‘elite’, being rich makes you some kind of level above human now doesn’t it?

“his latest victims are the choi family, he stole not only paintings but some jewelry as well - possibly high end watches and the sort.”

“choi family?”

god this new kid knows nothing

“choi seungcheol’s family” you say with a yawn “you know, the choi seungcheol - the mayor.”

seokmin gasps and you finally look at him. 

he’s got a build to him that probably helps with physical altercations but he gives off the vibe that he’d faint at the sight of blood

“exactly.” 

joshua shoots a pointed look at you and you kind of dance around in the disgust 

“which is why we are going out on a limb and asking for the bounty hunters to help. the choi family desperately wants these pieces returned to them.”

you look at minghao’s face on the screen, it’s obviously not a mugshot so you note that the police force has actually never caught him

it’s a kind of photo that looks like it has been pulled off a social media account

minghao is standing in some sort of white room, he’s tilting his head and looking at the camera - or maybe the person holding it - and one of his eyes has a piercing blue colored contact in it

his features are angular, sharp, and long - but they fit together to make an unusually handsome kind of face

you slide forward in your chair and take your own phone out to snap a picture of the monitor

“how much for him?”

another voice echoes somewhere from the corner

joshua’s straight-faced expression twitches like he’s trying to believe the number that comes out of his mouth.

“ten million”

you keep counting the zeros in your head as you push your keys into your motorcycle and adjust yourself on the seat

you could retire with that kind of money. you live a frugal existence as it is.

you know that minghao is probably also somewhere in the city, still plotting for his next job. 

he’s been hitting rich people’s houses for two months straight and the choi’s are a victory, for sure, but they’re still not the biggest shark in the ocean.

the people who sponsor them, the people who made seungcheol mayor, minghao has to be going for them next

you make a list of the three family names that come to mind, luckily enough you also know someone who works in the business of ‘technology’ or so who can help you track down the lead forming in your head

you look one last time at the picture of minghao on your phone before you slip it into your jacket pocket and pull out of the parking lot

“how much?”

“stick-up-his-ass hong said ten million, the choi’s really want there watches and monet’s back.”

jihoon turns to you with a deadpan expression

“you know monet’s can go up to ten times that amount right?”

you shrug and shove a half eaten bar of candy in your mouth that you stole from a bowl by his computer

“i don’t know, i didn’t go to college for art history. anyway, can you help?”

“how much of your cut will i get.”

you lick your lips and think for a second

“if i get him alive i’ll cut you in thirty percent. if he’s dead, ten.”

jihoon taps his foot and adjusts the glasses on his nose, he told you once they’re for the blue light or whatever that come out of his six computers.

“deal.”

you come over and see him open up the page of one of the most expensive and professional art dealers in this city, jihoon mentions that this person is in charge of the buying accounts for all of the three families you mentioned

he also happens to manage the choi’s, so looking into him could lead to possible other leads for the three targets you have in mind

“if minghao is planning to rob them - he needs to know what pieces to take. he’s probably also tracking down what they’re currently thinking about buying.”

“yeah, and im gonna assume - you know, bounty hunters intuition or whatever, that he’s going to hit whichever family recently bought the most expensive piece.”

jihoon’s fingers type faster than your eyes can follow. he doesn’t even seem to move his face, just his pupils and then a bunch of screens are popping up everywhere

you had befriended him on an assignment to catch a hacker - not jihoon, although he’s actually got a price on his head too - but another hacker who was clambering up jihoon’s business

you watch as jihoon does his magic, and then in about ten or so minutes you have an answer

“one of the family’s just bought and received a vase from this guy, it won its auction at around twenty five million. it’s from the ming dyn-”

“which family?”

you don’t care if they got a vase, a sofa, a painting, or a gold and diamond encased piece of potato - something in your stomach told you that whoever just spent the most was on minghao’s radar and minghao was on yours

jihoon adjusts his glasses

“that would be ... oh, that would be the yoon family.”

you taste something iron on the tip of your tongue, yoon jeonghan was on the cover of last month’s vogue if you remember correctly

“got it. thanks.”

you shrug your jacket back on and jihoon spins around in his chair when you get to the door of his dark apartment 

“remember, thirty if he’s alive!”

“and ten if he’s not!”

you don’t like the fact that this new kid, seokmin, is standing outside the giant gates of the yoon family mansion 

he’s wearing a cut off white t-shirt and new balances for christs sake

“hey!” he looks like he’s seen the sun when he spots you sort of loitering nearby, you try to ignore him but he’s coming over

“hi.”

“staking out the yoon’s? my first impression was they’d be minghao’s next targets because they’re rich and like art too.”

you wonder how he knows that so you ask, half expecting he might actually tell you - which would be a stupid thing to do.

he does.

“oh! i mean their son is a designer, they must be the best people to steal from.”

that’s so fucking ridiculous but he’s actually right. going to tell jihoon im cutting his share in half since apparently his intel could have been free.

“uhuh. well good luck.”

the words are stale when you say them, but sparkling eyes seokmin takes them to heart with a gracious “you too!”

you actually didn’t come to stake them out - you came to see if minghao might be staking them out

no good thief actually just bursts into someone's home, they need to know every nook and cranny of a place if they want to get out clean

judging by minghao’s track record, you can tell he’s cautious and detailed

you circle the house at a safe distance and then head back home, you read a bunch of articles on minghao’s past crimes and eat the only thing you have in your fridge which is mint ice cream - it was left there by a late night hook up who’d doordashed 7/11 even when you told them not to

you do some other minor research on smaller bounties you could chase after minghao is caught, none are interesting or any where near the price of minghao’s

you lay down and the stray you recently started letting crawl through the fire escape makes a little fuzzy circle at the base of your feet

you look at your phone, look at the photo of minghao

wonder if he’s as detailed orientated in other things aside from stealing. looks like he’d know what to do with his hands.

you fall asleep with the phone on your chest.

the next day, you’re texting jihoon about the seokmin thing - he tells you to piss off and not even think about downing his cut or he’ll leak your social security on the internet

that’s so fucked up dude

you’re a shit bounty hunter and im a hermit hacker we aren’t good people anyway

fine, are the yoon’s buying any other vases or whatever

actually, they won an auction a month ago for some ceramics. heard they’re coming tomorrow.

oh, might be a good time to steal that vase and some extra trinkets too for our thief 

look how ugly these things are tho

jihoon sends you a photo pulled from the auctioning website, they are ugly, but they’re expensive

you rub your temple and decide that’s enough for today, you don’t see seokmin around either

seungcheol’s generic smiling im-a-good-mayor-and-i-kiss-babies face is grainy on your tv

you eat the takeout you picked up on the way back and are only mildly surprised when you notice someone familiar in the crowd

this is old footage, from a rally he did before the crime

your eyes pan to the corner and pull out one person from the sea of faces, everyone looks so excited to see seungcheol, minghao stands staunch and unwavering in the moving bodies

he’s not grinning - he’s kind of half smirking from what you can tell

he really does his research, i kind of like him

you put the chopsticks into your mouth, yeah. i think he’s going to be a fun one to catch.

goddamn seokmin is here again - on the night the drop shipment of the ceramics is scheduled - you tell yourself you were a clown for believing all that ‘i just thought they’d be the right family!’ bullshit he was telling you about

he probably has an informant of his own, definitely not jihoon though. seokmin is the type jihoon would rather drive a usb through his head than ever cooperate with

you avoid him the second you see his strong shilloute and make your way to the otherside of the house, right on the outskirts of the back garden

there’s one person in it - none of the immediate yoon family you can recognize, probably just a worker

you know there’s three entrances from here - the garden doors, the side opening that leads to an underground washing room, and there’s also a way to get into the back of the kitchen

you are betting that either one of them might be a good choice for minghao, but you put your bet on the washing room - it has stairs that lead up into a spare bedroom which is adjacent to a gallery type room inside of the huge mansion

it’s where the family will probably put the items, rich people love to be all like “look at my room of expensive things you don’t get to touch”

you stick your tongue out to yourself, morally you don’t care about thievery. especially when it’s stolen art stolen from people who just want it to feel superior to others

but minghao is worth ten million, that’s why im taking the higher ground on this ‘crime’

bounty hunters are allowed to carry guns, but you’ve never liked them - you like to use mace instead

that being said, you’ve brought your gun along - unloaded - just to use a scare tactic if push comes to shove. it’s heavy and it reminds you constantly of the job you came to do.

no getting distracted by newbie muscle heads or how hot you’re coming to think minghao is 

you hear something - eyes darting to behind one of the columns of a large gazebo in the garden

you swear you see something slink across as the only person in the garden gets up to head back inside

keeping your movements and noise to a minimum, you position your body for a better view and after what seems like two heartbeats you see him dart from the enclosure and toward the mansion

you don’t follow immediately, the only way you’re going to catch someone who is so elusive is if you one up him

you have the element of surprise, but not really, he might be expecting personal guards of the yoon household or the police

not a rogue bounty hunter with a can of mace

but he’s still expecting - and someone whose entire job is to be like a shadow - you’ve got to be careful

you wait the amount of time you deem appropriate and then do the same, you realize when you slip through the backdoor of the washroom that now you’re also committing a crime of breaking and entering

you’re sure the yoon’s won’t mind though - you are about to make sure their ceramics and vases don’t get stolen

plus, you checked up on all of them, the main family shouldn’t be home. the only people on premises are some cleaners and the gardener. you’re sure minghao knows that too.

you map out the house in your mind from what you’ve learned in the past couple of days and find the gallery with ease

you can see the large double doors are open just enough for a person to slip through

so he’s already in ther-

“HEY YOU! YOU BETTER STOP!”

your eyes widen and you push inside to see what’s going on 

seokmin, flashing something in his right hand and holding a light in the other is pointing at the long, lean figure of minghao

he’s standing there in the circle of light holding the vase you and jihoon had been looking at before

his eyes are unimpressed when they settle on seokmin

“ok, ive stopped - now what are you going to do?”

“im going to arrest you and bring you to the poli-”

the vase that’s held professionally between both his arms then gets dropped and crashes to the floor

the crescendo of noise startles seokmin because it’s the one thing all these new kids who want to try this kind of work get wrong

the thief is never going to drop the valuable goods - except they are, getting caught is worse then anything else. 

there will always be shit to steal - except you know if you’re in jail.

minghao beelines for the doors and you’re there, big grin and mace in hands

“hi!”

his eyes widden and you tackle him with ease, one hand bent behind his back as you make sure to keep your weight off him

“ugh, that big idiot had a partner?”

“he’s not my partner, by the way that vase is worth more than what im getting for your head.”

minghao shifts his cheek against the hard floor of the gallery and he’s smiling back up at you

“how much for me?”

“choi’s but ten million.”

he makes a pfft sound as he releases air from between his lips

“cheap as fuck.”

seokmin tries to bound over to help once he comes to, but you bite at him to back off. this is your win.

he says he can drive you and minghao to the station, but you tell him again that you’ve got this on your own

you kind of feel bad about how flustered he is and you tell him he can still brag about how you two were the only people with sense to look at the yoon’s 

for some reason, that actually brightens him up. he leaves to go downstairs and you don’t know if he sticks around or goes off on another job.

you get the handcuffs on minghao’s wrists before the workers, who hear the noise come running up in terror

you flash your bounty id and they scramble to get a hold of the local police office

minghao sits up against the wall and you sit directly in front of him - you can see him better with the lights on

his dark hair is long in the back and messy, his eyes are brown and long and twinkle when you look into them

the bottom corners are highlighted by what you can’t tell if is sweat or glitter

“you’re different”

he starts and you put up a finger

“im not different, im just experienced.”

“you like money more than you like your morals.”

you put the finger down and gleam at him

“bingo”

“so why are you sitting here waiting to hand me over for some chump change like ten million dollars when you and i are inches away from a collection that’s worth close to a hundred million?”

you touch the holster on your hip and tilt your head

“we - even the two of us - wouldn’t be able to steal everything in there. we’d need a whole team and-”

you start as minghao open’s his mouth to counter. all his teeth are white and straight.

“and if we could, you’d backstab me and take it all and run because you just said it yourself. money over morals.”

“ive got morals when im dealing with the right people.”

the snort you let out is louder than you expect and it makes minghao cock an eyebrow

“don’t care, you’re a professional liar. plus hong said he’d clear our records and get us that money.”

“joshua hong works for choi seungcheol who is a bigger liar than i am and you know it.”

there’s real spite in the way he says it - you assume he’s probably had interactions with both. or he’s just grown up in this city like you have, all the trouble politics can cause - all the stupid, underhanded shit that goes on

he leans a little forward

“plus, you’re hot. usually anyone who manages to catch me is very gruff and very mean.”

“i am gruff and mean, don’t test me.”

you banter but then look around and the gardener who was supposed to stay up here with you and minghao has turned his attention elsewhere - normal people don’t like facing criminals and well...whatever category bounty hunters are in.

“what’s the most expensive thing in that room.”

you ask under your breath suddenly, the police won’t be here for another five minutes at least. 

you text jihoon to tap into their comms and let you know the exact moment they’re at the door.

minghao shines that grin, slender fingers lift up and toward the door

“i broke it, but that place is jammed of other million dollar treasures. i saw an original signac that could score us close to 17 million.”

“a signac? who is that?”

minghao laughs with his hands still behind him

“so you’re hot but not into art, i can still work with that. he’s an artist, paul signac. the yoon’s own ‘la corne d'or.’” 

you shrug your shoulders again and pretend you don’t hear the first part but mutter that art doesn’t make sense to you and minghao lets out another quieter laugh

“it’s a painting of boats but it looks psychedelic almost, super colorful. thirty six or so inches across.”

you think to yourself - one painting and it’s 17 million, what if you get another painting with it

“ok...anything else in there catch your eye?”

minghao wiggles a little 

“lots, i know art like people know starbucks orders. very well.”

your phone pings and it’s jihoon’s warning. the police are going to be coming upstairs to take minghao off your hands in the next sixty to ninety seconds.

“i can’t trust you.”

he thins his lips and then taps your foot with his own, does a weird jostle of his body and then to your shock breaks out of his handcuffs with ease

he rubs his wrists as you think you hear some noise downstairs and the gardener jumps out of his seat to go greet the police without noticing the thing that just happened only a feet away from him

“i’ve had a bobby pin this whole time, i could have run away five whole minutes ago instead of giving you a history lesson on boat paintings worth more money than you’ve ever dreamt of.”

you don’t miss a beat 

“let’s get the fucking boats then.”

you get up and minghao takes a hold of your hand in a way you haven’t experienced since maybe middle school

like when a beloved childhood friend would take you and lead you toward the playground, giggle about school or your parents, pull you in to a fun moment under the basking sun

you and him stand, hand in hand, in front of the painting he mentioned

it’s pretty, it almost looks like it was drawn by crayons, you wonder why it’s so expensive 

“let’s take it and the two sketches over there, one’s a lady with a piano the other is a couple under an umbrella

“are they-”

“at least two million each. plus - we can comeback for the ceramics later.”

you don’t know why it makes you feel warm - but it does and you take the two framed sketches off the wall

the painting is large, but minghao has done this enough times before that he knows how to handle it - you two are out the hall and down the stairs by the time you hear the police shuffling up them

took their time thinking he’d just be sitting up there wrapped up like a present huh?

you think to yourself, minghao is quick on his feet and leads you in the direction of a inconspicuous looking tiny car that could seat you, him and maybe that stray that hangs around your apartment 

he opens the back and it is a perfect size for the painting

“did you come here on your bike?”

you realize the whole look of you must give away the fact that you ride one

“never, i dont bring it on jobs because people know what it looks like.”

he tips his fingers toward you in acknowledgement

“good because this car isn’t mine either, so add auto theft to the list of crimes you’re committing with me on this first date.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, can’t tell if he’s joking or not

he hits the gas before there’s any movement on the street where it’s parked - the yoon mansion fades into the distance as he rushes into the evening traffic

“is this the part where you kick me to the curb?”

you ask

minghao takes one hand off the wheel and puts it on your thigh

“this is the part where you tell me where you live so we can go get your things and ride off into the sunset, bonnie.”

you laugh

“so you’re clyde?”

he looks at you at a red light - looks at your lips and then your eyes

“do you want me to be?”

you can decide the answer to that yourself

*if you’re interested here is la corne d’or on the sothebys website. 

#listen idk what this is really but im worldbuilding a lot arent i #seventeen scenarios #seventeen au #seventeen imagines #minghao au #minghao scenarios #minghao imagines #the8 au #the8 scenarios #the8 imagines #the8 #minghao #seventeen #minghao x reader #the8 x reader #violence/ weapons/

[astromaki]

part 3 of second choice ; ceo!shoto todoroki x gn!reader (x ceo!katsuki bakugo) (1617 words)

part 1. part 2. (previous) part 4.

tw ; angst, arranged marriage, toxic relationship, degradation, divorce, mention of alcohol, bad language, slightly suggestive ?

EXTRA INFOS ;; all the characters are aged up obviously (they are 30 here), the point of view of this third part is from shoto todoroki !

confrontation. [7 : 16 pm]

a week has passed since he came home that night drunk. that he had begged momo to stay with him. that he had accidentally seen those divorce papers crumpled by your hands.

momo had seen them too that night, and yet she and shoto had not commented on them. good, he wasn't in the mood anyway.

it had become almost official, even the media had it on their front pages. "one of japan's richest couples on the verge of divorce?", "billionaire todoroki single again?" "y/n, will the heir.ess of their father's company return to being a lawyer?"

he would have liked to say that he cared what you thought about it. if you cried, screamed, were you hurt ? but that would be lying, you were the least of his worries.

and then, wasn't it what he wanted from the beginning ?

that you would end up hating him so much that you would leave him. that he could finally be free of the weight that you represented every day.

and yet his signature was still missing.

"you can't even love your partner properly, and now i hear through the media that a divorce is on the way ? you're pathetic son. i knew i should have married them to touya. " enji's heart-attack voice echoed terribly through the phone, which made shoto sigh. he was even pretty sure he could hear it from across town.

"calm down." shoto said in an annoyed tone. "your marriage isn't a success either, so keep your remarks to yourself. bye. "

"you idiot, don't you dare hanging up on me. i don't care if you can't satisfy your s/o, i don't care if they feel bad about this arranged marriage either. but y/n y/l/n comes from a very famous lawyer's family, so get a divorce and the amount of money you have to give will be huge. "

"i manage them, it will not be a problem. i have to go now. "

the young man finally returned to your room, looking exhausted, his tie loosened and ready to down a few glasses of whiskey.

however, he was surprised to see you. dressed in a beautiful versace dress/suit, you were glowing. well no, he meant that you looked... good.

though, it was the first time he took the time to look at you. to admire you.

the young man finally met your indifferent gaze through the mirror you were standing in front of. that gaze that was so joyful and sparkling at the beginning of your marriage, full of hope to transform this purely financial union into a love marriage.

but that look, devoid of emotion, almost made shoto, Japan's most ambitious ceo, doubt himself. almost.

"i'm surprised you're still using my card to splurge. how much is this one? $1000 ? $2000 ?"

he was tired, exhausted. nut the truth is he was in the mood to be a pain in the ass tonight.

"$ 8,330. plus the $800 pair. " you replied coldly.

your answer was like a slap in the face to your husband. not because of the price, he didn't give a fuck about this.

but this tone right there. it wasn't like you. you were normally so gentle, patient even with the worst of the crap he put you through. that naive kindness that made him want to vomit was completely gone. he didn't expect such a turn of events.

"so you decide to divorce me, but first you want to empty my bank account? you're exactly as I imagined." his look that used to reflect nothing but fatigue was now full of contempt for you.

you finally faced him. shit, he couldn't help but find you beautiful.

"here todoroki, let's talk about the divorce. " you began, quietly walking over to the cabinet and pulling out a stack of documents. "i've signed it, sign it, and i'll take it to my lawyers first thing in the morning.

he snatched them out of your hand and threw them across the room. you didn't even flinch, you even held his gaze. poker face.

a loud silence fell between you. a long silence, uncomfortable and comfortable at the same time. heavy and light. sensible and meaningless.

"what's all this about ? who put you up to this ?"

a wry laugh escaped your lips. your new behavior puzzled shoto. he loved and hated what he had in front of him. a challenge.

"you think i need someone to make me realize that i deserve better than an asshole like you ? fuck, let me laugh. "

your hand went to retrieve a piece of paper from your purse. and it was slammed hard against his chest. bakugou’s business card.

he found your face inches from his, your warm breath gently caressing his cheeks. a scent of whiskey filled his nostrils. you were not sober.

"how many drinks are you on? " he asked quietly.

"so now do you care if i downed a whole bottle or not ? oh please shut up. because now that you mention it, your friend bakugou katsuki may have hired me. to be his company's business lawyer. isn't that funny? "

you turned your back on him, unaware of the state you'd put him in. but damn, it was like he'd just been slapped in the face. nausea took over his whole body, his legs became heavy and weak in few seconds only. and he knew damn well it wasn't fatigue.

so you were leaving him, but on top of that you were going to work for his number one competitor ?

he didn't know what hurt more, the knowledge that bakugo had won one of the most competent lawyers in the field or that you were leaving him for him ? was he jealous ? surely not, it was another feeling that repulsed him. he didn't even know.

"have you lost your tongue todoroki ?"

todoroki ? since when did you call him by his last name ? where are the darlings or my heart that used to annoy him so much ?

you finish getting ready, now wearing your long jacket. he had lost his tongue indeed, he didn't know what to say to you. what to do.

y/n y/l/n, you had succeeded in putting your husband to the wall.

but it was only for a moment. he quickly, too quickly, pulled himself together. his usual irritated expression returned.

"you don't see that he's using you to get ahead of me ? i thought you were smarter than that. "

he took a step forward, slowly but surely. like a predator approaching its prey.

"he doesn't care about you. just like no one has ever cared about you, not me, not him and not your bourgeois family. that's why they put you in a loveless marriage so easily. "

a mirthless laugh escaped from his lips.

"y/n, this bastard doesn't give a damn about you. "

you tried to move towards him, ready to slap him, but the alcohol made you capsize and stumble on your carpet. he arrived just in time to support you with his muscular arms. an annoyed sigh resounded in the large room when your sob reached his ears.

nevertheless, a petty smile stretched his lips. there you were again, the fragile and unassertive y/n finally in his arms.

that bakugo had managed to turn your brain inside out. yet shoto knew you better than anyone else. he knew you. better than you knew yourself. you were that puzzle he had managed to decipher long ago.

"that's not true. kacchan wouldn't do that...", you whisper.

"you know i'm right, sweetheart. you know i'm the only one who's honest with you. my love for you is all you need. "

his muscular hand gradually, peacefully, came to caress your back to take off the buttons of your dress. his lips came to meet yours, to draw you into a long, languid, unsentimental kiss. your lips asked for more, your whole soul asked for more of shoto. more of this man for whom your heart never stopped beating. even if his was vibrating for another woman.

you wanted to feel his lips making love to you sensually, sincerely.

you just wanted him to love you for one night. one fucking night.

shoto was ecstatic. he could already see himself opening a bottle of champagne with his father, to celebrate the divorce that would never happen. tonight, shoto had brought out his best acting skills. millions were at stake. he had brought out his best kiss. he had never touched you like that. so gently, so carefully.

he had never called you by any affectionate nickname.

he has done too much to keep you around.

and you were drunk, not stupid.

you finally stood up, moving away from him, reluctantly. nothing he said was true. from his love for you, to his accusations against katsuki.

awkwardly, you put your dress/suit back on properly.

"i have a meeting with my future employer mr. bakugou tonight. i'll be late. don't wait for me, i'll sleep at the hotel tonight, with your card. "

a red color came to his cheeks. anger ? sadness ? jealousy ?

he had never seen you so determined, so proud. and that attracted him. he was going to lose millions, no matter what. but it was you who was going to escape him. for that bastard bakugou katsuki.

the nice little y/n was no longer shoto todoroki's.

AHHH omg sorry sorry i told you i can't do a fluffy end!! >< (comments and reblogs are appreciated <3)

🔖 tag list ; @nveusii @angelofthorr @missmolliemoo @jazzylove @loki-an-idiot @deepestranchgoopdeputy @mhasimp666 @shotorozu @chscklvr @devilsbooksworld @marshmallow12345 (ones in bold cannot be tagged)

#bnha scenarios #bnha x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x you #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto x y/n #shoto todoroki x you #shoto x you #shoto x reader #todoroki x you #todoroki x y/n #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki angst #bnha shoto #bakugou x reader #bakugo x self insert #bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bakugou katsuki