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#a bit. a bit obsessed about em lately.

papercorgiworld · 1 month

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Can i request a Mattheo Theo and(or, how many u feel like writing) enzo with an older gf maybe like a girl who'd walk em like a dog and in a second they're like "Yes maam whatever you say🧎‍♂️" byw love ur writing I'm obsessed with ur works!!

I kinda wasn't taking request, but I suck at saying no and I just kinda felt like writing this. This is just short and quick, but it was a really fun idea. I gave it a bit more of a specific context, I hope you don't mind. Thank you so much for sending this my way. I hope you like it, bc I really loved your idea. I wrote this in like an hour or so, let me know if you spot any errors. Also currently 2k+ words into a very fluffy muffin coded Mattheo piece. So this is more like a suggestive snack. Enjoy my dears!

Warning: suggestive

I added a part two.

Whipped for their tutor

Mattheo

Mattheo had been skipping too many classes and his latest test had reduced Mcgonagall to tears, so it was tutoring sessions or no quidditch for the rest of the year. So here he was waiting outside of the transfiguration's classroom as the professor informed his tutor on all the material he needed to catch up with. The list was really long and Mattheo was starting to get embarrassed. Especially when he heard the professor refer to his latest test. He really wasn't stupid, he just neglected his studies for a bite too long.

He heard chairs shuffle and moved away from the door. The door opened and Mattheo's mouth almost fell open. You've got to be kidding me. (y/n). Fuck. Everyone at Hogwarts had a crush on you and in Mattheo's case it wasn't just an innocent crush. No, the thoughts he had about you were far from innocent. Professor Mcgonagall's voice pulled Mattheo out of his trance. "Mister Riddle, this is miss (y/l/n), she'll try to save your grade."

You smiled at Mattheo as he nodded at the professor's words. He was cute you couldn't deny that, but seriously the staring was obvious. When the professor left you two alone Mattheo chuckled nervously making you roll your eyes. Wasn't Mattheo Riddle supposed to be a big bad boy? You turn on your heels. "Follow me, I reserved us a classroom." Your voice is sweet and Mattheo feels himself heat up to an unhealthy degree. Yes, mommy. He stares at your ass for a second and then quickly walks after you.

"Mattheo Riddle." Mattheo introducing himself when he catches up with you and you smirk, before licking your bottom lip. "Oh, I know who you are." Mattheo smirks, feeling confident a his reputation. "I've also seen your grades." Mattheo's smug smile drops and he falls silent for a moment. You open the door to an empty classroom and enter, walking over to a table to lay your books on. "I'm actually not stupid." Mattheo finally manages to say and you look up as you organize your books. When you don't say anything he walks closer. "I just didn't work hard enough." He explains and you sit down. "Well, I guess I'm just here to make sure you work for it this time." You tilt your head and watch him almost drool.

"Sit." Mattheo nods and complies. Nothing left of this bad boy. He reaches for his books. "You should start with summarizing chapters 3 to 6." Mattheo huffs. "I never make summaries, I'll just read it over." You lean a little closer and rest a hand on his thigh, making him almost gulp at you touch. "Matty, be a good boy and summarize chapter 3 to 6 for me." Your lips near his ear have his dick twitch in his pants and if your hand would move even an inch you would feel it. Mattheo can't remember the last time he's blushed, but right now his face is reddening as he stares at his book. Slowly he moves his eyes, first to your half opened blouse and then to your perfect lips. "Yes, ma'am." Is all the notorious Mattheo Riddle can say before he opens his books and starts doing the work.

Theodore

He was late and hearing from the laughter in the hallway, he wasn't in a hurry. "That Gryffindor goat just failed me bc she hates Slytherins." You roll your eyes at Theodore's arrogant voice echoing through the hallway, approaching the classroom you were supposed to meet at half an hour ago. "Can't believe you're stuck with a tutor, mate." Mattheo chuckled and you focus on Theodore's test in your hands. "I know, I probably can teach them more than they can teach me." Theo laughs as he opens the door and you tilt your head with a cheeky smile on your lips. "I doubt that." Is all you say and Theodore stares up and down your figure as you sat so elegantly and perfectly. Mattheo stands behind his friend mouth hanging.

"I might need some tutoring as well." Mattheo says his voice squeaky, making him look down in embarrassment. "No doubt, but this session is reserved for Theodore. I can call you Theodore, right?" There's a teasing tone to your voice but both boys are too enchanted by you to notice. "Anything." Theodore breathes as he takes a few steps towards the table you were sitting at. "Mattheo." You say looking past Theo. "You can close the door." Mattheo smiles bright as you say his name and does as you say, only once outside he realizes how foolish he must've looked.

Theodore was now alone left at your mercy. "Are you just gonna stand there?" Theo shakes his head and smiles like a love struck puppy. You were the hottest and most unreachable girl at Hogwarts and now he got to sit next to you, smell your perfume and take in your perfect features from up close. "I don't actually need tutoring." Theo said with a half smirk on his lips, faking confidence. "Your latest test says otherwise." You move the piece of parchment over the table towards the Slytherin, who's immediately flustered. He really doesn't need his dream girl thinking he's stupid. "I say we start by correcting the mistakes you made and filling in the blanks you left." Theodore chuckles, he really didn't want you of all people to tutor him like he was a little boy. He needed to you see him as a man for far from innocent reasons. "I don't think that's necessary." Theodore protests.

You scoot a little closer to him and lay your hand on his thigh, gently moving between his legs. An unsteady breath leaves his parted lips. You owned him and you both knew it. "Don't be like that Theo, just do the work... for me." Another breath leaves his lips and he reaches for his quill, like a good boy. Cute and whipped, exactly how I like them.

Enzo

It wasn't even his fault. Mattheo and Theodore had gotten him high and he had written the word 'soup' as an answer to every question. Now he had to skip quidditch training to go hang with this tutor. With his hands in his pockets he entered the library, scanning the room for his appointed tutor. That's when he saw you. Gods, you were a view. He smiled, immediately getting flustered, you were out of his league and he knew it, but damn you were fine to look at.

"Lorenzo, right?" She's talking to me. Oh by Salazar, it's happening! Say something! "Lorenzo?" You snap your fingers in front him and his smile turns goofy. "Sorry. I was fantasizing- I mean dreaming- thinking." You press your lips into a line you were used to guys getting a little nervous around you, but this guy couldn't even hide it and that just made him adorable af. "I'm your tutor." You don't bother introducing yourself, since you had caught him staring at you enough times for him to know your name and sizes. "Tutor?" The Slytherin seemed to panic at the idea, but you chose to ignore it leaving him with some of his dignity.

"Come on. I was just planning on getting your books." Enzo nods and watches you walk, making you turn after a few seconds and raising your eyebrows. "Come on, Enzo." He sighs at the way you say his name, like you did it better than any other girl. He hurries and follows your every step carrying every book that you summon. Suddenly you turn on your heels and Enzo almost bumps into you, smiling at you as his eyes rest to your soft lips. Probably fantasizing. "Let's start studying, shall well." You announce and despite the discouraging pile of books Enzo quickly nods. "Yes, ma'am." You chuckle. Whipped. With him still trailing behind you a dirty thought sets root, maybe a younger and utterly whipped guy like Lorenzo Berkshire might make a good sugar baby.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #theodore nott #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire imagine #enzo berkshire x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #papercorgiworldwritings

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cherryflavoredvamp · 1 year

Text

🍒 double cherry pie 🍒

pairing: female reader x eddie munson

summary: you and eddie have been friends for years, until one day you decide to ask him what the handcuffs on his wall are for *wink wink*

warnings: 18+, smut, slight innocence kink but reader is playing dumb (strategically), come eating lolz, possessive eddie, bestfriend!eddie makes his return, not proofread i was really excited to post this one haha, and the rest is a surprise

author’s note: this idea came to my head and there are so many eddie fics it’s possible some version of this exists somewhere else, but anyhow my brain wouldn’t shut up about this idea until i wrote it down haha. please reblog and comment i love to hear your feedback it keeps me encouraged to write! okay ilysm enjoy babes

not proofread be nice - xoxo, slater

Eddie Munson was good at getting what he wanted needed out of you, he needed you more than he needed air to breathe. Not that you noticed though, you two had been friends for as long as you could remember and Eddie had always been inching closer and closer to having you all to himself. In your time as friends, Eddie had decided he would be your first everything. I’m talking all of the bases, first base aka kissing, second base aka touching above the waist, third base aka touching below the waist. And lastly, he planned on a home run, because in his mind no one else deserved to have you like that but him. He had been a guard dog of sorts, protecting you from any heartbreak, which meant scaring off anyone who tried to get their hands on you. It wasn’t easy, some were persistent, leaving notes in your locker, walking you to class, nothing or no one got between Eddie and his favorite girl. His girl.

“What are these for,” you feigned innocence at the handcuffs that adorned Eddie’s poster cluttered walls. You knew exactly what they were meant for, you just wanted to hear him say it. The confused look on your face nearly took Eddie’s breath away, now was his chance.

“For bad girls,” Eddie chuckled at his own ridiculous behavior. God, you were driving him crazy without even laying a finger on him.

“Oh?” Your voice rant with curiosity and interest, maybe you could be bad. Just this one time, maybe. Eddie was shirtless in his tight black jeans and he really couldn't have looked more delectable than he did at this very moment. The temptation was there for the taking.

“Mmmhm,” Eddie sat on his bed, hands placed behind him to prop him up.

“Mmmhm isn’t much of an answer, Munson,” your heart raced, you really couldn’t help toying with him a bit. He thought you were none the wiser, but you had a hunch for what all of his odd behavior meant lately. You were just unaware of how much he actually liked you. It was bordering on obsession and Eddie couldn’t help it, he adored you, always had. The tension the last few weeks were palpable to say the least.

“Well I could show you better than I can tell you…” Eddie smirked knowingly at you, sitting up to rest his hands on his thighs.

“And what is that supposed to mean,” you blushed sweetly. Eddie loved when he made you blush, if he only knew how many times you had blushed and turned away so he couldn’t see turn red. It happened more often than you liked to admit.

“You’re a hands on learner aren’t you,” Eddie trailed off hopefully.

Say yes, say yes, say yes Eddie thought to himself.

“How’d you know,” you smiled at him, of course he knew that he’s known you forever. He just hoped you’d say yes, and he was halfway to getting that yes.

“Hand em’ over then,” Eddie held out his hand and you took the handcuffs off the wall careful not to scuff the paint, not that Eddie would care. He worshiped the ground you walked on, after all.

“Okay…,” you say handing them to Eddie, and to your delight he pats his lap as if to say ‘take a seat.’

Straddling his lap you try your best to stay calm and cool about the whole situation, but it was a long time coming and you could’ve screamed if you weren’t so nervous.

“Now,” Eddie begins, holding the handcuffs out to you, “hands.” You place your hands in front of you waiting on further instruction, giddy as a kid in a candy shop.

Eddie cuffs your wrists and snaps the clasps shut sounds so final, heart pounding you smile and say “now what.”

“Now…you’re stuck with me,” Eddie places your cuffed hands around his neck and presses your body to his, you can feel how hard you’ve made him and you audibly gasp. Eddie’s hands are palming your ass, “nice skirt,” his hands are under your skirt now, fingers skimming the lace detail of your panties. “Cute,” Eddie comments, a small groan escaping his pretty mouth.

“Ditto,” you wanted nothing more but to kiss him in this moment, but good things were worth waiting for.

“Ditto? Are you calling me cute?” Eddie looked a mix between amused and confused. No one has called him cute since he was a little kid, it wasn’t a compliment he was used to. The frequented compliments came from the punk girl who worked the gas station near his house, and one of the older waitresses at his work. Sarah always complimented his hair and jacket, and Mabel always told him how handsome he looked with his hair pushed back as he worked. She had said he looked more and more handsome every time she saw him, she felt like she watched him grow up in the blink of an eye. And Sarah thought he was cool, but she liked women only, Eddie just happened to be the prettiest boy in town. Plenty of girls liked Eddie, but he was taboo, town gossip ensured his dating life was much more complicated than it should ever be for someone in their early twenties.

“Yes,” you sigh, a little dreamy sigh that had slipped out before you could stop it. “You’re cute, but you’re also hot.”

“Hot?” Eddie raised his eyebrows in shock, you’ve never really commented on his looks, you thought he already knew how good looking and charming he was. But you were getting the memo that he didn’t actually know, and you thought someone should let him know, you’d be damned if it was anyone else but you.

“As hot as the trailer gets in the summer when the window AC unit goes out and you hit it and cuss it out until it works,” you say making Eddie’s mouth drop. Were you really admitting you had feelings for him by making a reference to his shitty AC?

“Oh my god,” is all Eddie can say, “how long have you been in love with me?” And just like that his smartass attitude had returned with a vengeance, he knew you liked him now so all bets were off, no more tiptoeing around the truth.

“Quit it, are you going to show me what these handcuffs are for or not, Eddie Munson?”

“I could have you cuffed to this bed and screaming my name, but I don’t think you’re ready for that yet,” Eddie says and you scoff. “Don’t get an attitude with me,” Eddie smirks at the brat straddling him, “patience is a virtue, Princess.”

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes and wish you could cross your arms in protest. How did he know what you were and weren’t ready for? What was his fucking deal? “Whose the tease now,” you remark, not able to hold that one back when you should’ve been feigning innocence and keeping face.

“Oh, so you were doing that on purpose? Aw my little tease, how cute,” Eddie boops the tip of your nose with his finger.

“Shut up,” you retort.

“Be careful, remember I’m the one with the key.”

“What are you trying to say?” Your attitude was palpable at this point and Eddie was getting fed up. Before you knew what was happening Eddie had you flipped you onto the bed and a hand holding your cuffed wrists to the mattress above your head.

“I’m trying to say I’d be careful if I were you, I might keep you here like this forever,” his other hand held your cheek so gently like you might break.

“Is that a threat?” You’re the one smirking now, staying here under him didn’t seem like a bad fate after all.

“You’re going to kill me,” Eddie whispered, thinking of how to hold himself back when you were here, waiting for him to touch you, wanting him almost as much as he wanted you. Eddie knew he wanted to take his time with you, first base was the end goal but god the home run was right in front of his face, begging him to go further than he thought you were ready for.

Before he did anything else he had to know for sure, because it looked as though you could’ve already had your first kiss. Not that it would change his mind about you, he just wanted to be your everything, that was all. “Has anyone ever kissed you? Honest answer please.”

“No! Oh my god, I’ve been waiting for you,” you whined and writhed beneath him, he could feel his dick brush against you and he hissed at the feeling.

“You have no idea how what that means to me,” Eddie said reaching over you to his nightstand for the key.

“I think I have an idea,” you nodded your head towards his crotch and he laughed unlocking the cuffs.

Tossing the handcuffs to the side Eddie laughed and brought you back up to his lap in an instant, for a lanky guy he really had the potential to toss you around and that made your mind run wild with the possibilities.

“Kiss me already, what are you waiting for?” You ask impatiently squeezing Eddie’s arms.

“Waitin’ for that beautiful mouth of yours to quit moving,” Eddie brushed his thumb along your bottom lip teasingly and you nodded, closing your mouth, eyes big and glassy. He melted at the sight of you. “That’s more like it,” Eddie held your face and your hands held onto his arms in vice like grips. Eddie and you met half way, lips brushing slightly, “close your eyes,” Eddie directed making you laugh. Your laugh was cut short by him pressing his mouth to yours, he quite literally took your breath away. The kiss was soft and warm, gentle at first, Eddie ran his tongue across your bottom lip and you opened your mouth for him. The two of you melted together nicely, a sweet kiss turned pornographic and animalistic the way you two had both waited for this moment forever. Eddie moaned in your mouth and you pressed yourself against him, he was still sensitive but didn’t break the kiss even though it hurt. He thought it hurt too good to stop. His hands raked down your hips and then back up, you would’ve gasped when he groped your breasts but you were too busy devouring him to break the kiss. Too busy to question his hand under your skirt, feeling how wet you were for him. You could feel him smile as he ran his finger through your folds, two fingers stretching you out deliciously you couldn't fight the urge to rock back and fourth on his fingers, and that's when you pushed against him until his back hit the mattress. You broke the kiss and stared down at him, he cheeks were flushed and he looked breathtaking.

"Hmm," you sat up and fiddled with his handcuff belt buckle, he was looking at you with awe and curiosity. What were you planning to do next? He decided that would be your choice. Much to his surprise you started unbuckling his belt and undoing his jeans.

"Are you sure about this," Eddie held the waistband of his jeans, waiting on that yes again.

"I've never been more sure of anything, Eddie. I want you, I want this," you said and that's all it took for Eddie to peel his jeans off while you took your shirt off. Not feeling shy, not feeling anything but how right this all felt. Eddie's fingers slid along the waistband of your panties and slipped them off with ease, when you sat on top of him with no barrier in between the two of you he sighed with relief. Rubbing yourself on him was making his head spin, he let out a string of curses when you licked up his neck, kissing and sucking until he had you flipped over on your back again, giggling up at him, you knew just how to drive him wild.

"You're trouble," Eddie pumped two fingers in and out of you torturously slow, curling his fingers in a come hither motion over and over again until your legs felt like jelly and the sounds coming from you sounded rated R. You whined with his tongue on your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin until there was sure to be a big hickey in the shape of Eddie's mouth. But you didn't care what people would think, nothing could ruin this.

"You're sinful," slipped out of your mouth and you surprised yourself at the sheer smoothness of your words, something about him made you comfortable enough to say these dirty things.

"Mm, maybe my mouth is," Eddie's tongue circled your breast, sucking on your breast staring up at you, you knew Eddie's mouth wasn't the most sinful thing about him with his cock pressed to your tummy. You run your hands through his hair and whine, tears rolling down your cheeks from the overstimulation. "Feel good, Princess?" Eddie kissed your lips and smiled devilishly down at you.

"Mhm," you nodded.

"Mhm isn't much of an answer, baby. Need to hear you say it," Eddie parted your thighs further apart for him, angling himself closer to you and rubbing his cock up and down your folds, almost pushing himself in but not yet, not until you said it.

"Need to feel you inside me, please, Eddie," you held his face and swept his hair out of the way, your hands running through his hair were quickly becoming one of his biggest weaknesses. He couldn't deny you of what you wanted any longer, when the only thing you wanted was for him to be closer.

"Fuck," Eddie cursed burying himself into you halfway, "I don't know if I'll fit, relax for me. Ok, baby? How does that feel?" He kissed your cheek and wiped a tear away.

"More, please," you dig your fingernails into Eddie's back and he laughs, relieved he wasn't hurting you. "Feels good, Eddie, need more," you scratch down his back, cherry red nails gripping onto his waist, your hips moving against his, giving you everything you asked for and more. You really weren't expecting him to be this big.

Your kiss marks all over his chest and neck he tells you "you're making a mess of me, trying to ruin me for everyone else?"

"Isn't that what you're doing too?" You smirk up at him knowingly.

"That obvious, huh?"

"Yes," you cry out, your orgasm finally hitting you in waves.

"Oh my god, Cherry," Eddie said using that cute nickname only he could call you, no one else. Keeping the same pace he held you close and soothed you through the intensity, kissing you everywhere. "Let me see your tongue," you stick your tongue out and let him spit on it and makeout until you feel him release inside of you.

Then Eddie does something you never could've seen coming, he isn't done with you yet. He finds a comfortable place for his head between your thighs, biting and sucking at the plush flesh inside your thighs, there he kisses you pussy and sucks at your clit making you shake. Licking you clean, and lapping his come out of your pussy, you watch in amazement as he winks at you while his tongue fucks your pussy, the most sinful thing you've ever seen and felt.

You wondered just how long he planned to do this, if you only really knew how long he'd thought about having you like this. The hickeys on your neck were enough to scare anyone away from his Cherry pie.

#eddie x female reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #best friend!eddie #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson x y/n #best friend!eddie munson #eddie munson x best friend reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson oneshot

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elliereject · 25 days

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ifhy .1

* in which ellie’s obsession relationship with you begins to sour as your romance with your new boyfriend seems to flourish. it seems she’ll stop at nothing to ensure your happiness, (which you’ll find with her, obviously) even if it means hurting you in the process.

* lowkey obsessive ellie, (I LIKE EM’ A LITTLE CRAZY!), angst + comfort (next chapter(s), infidelity, unrequited feelings yet also mutual pining (just read it like, idk idk I forgot how to do these),lmk if I missed anything!

* im back, ok not really this has been rotting in my drafts forever and I was reading it back and I was like damn I lowk cooked with this. It’s unfinished as of RN but this is only 1/3 of the fic im just splitting it up so u don’t have to wait months,,for it..like my other fics..DONT ASK ME ABT THOSE, cuz I don’t got an answer. IN THE MEAN TIME ENJOY THIS! <3

* mdni (but like if u do wtvr, nothing crazy happens in this chapter)

wc ~ 1.6k

pt. 2 here

Ellie Williams fucking hated you.

Surprisingly, she didn’t at first. In fact, she was in love with you, bordering infatuation.

She had seen you for the first time at the local bookstore before the semester started, you were flipping through a book about time and relativity with a concentrated look on your face. She smiled to herself when she saw you push up onto your toes to reach for another book but to no avail. She took this as an opportunity to walk up to you and reach over your head to grab it, making sure to flex her lean, tattooed arm before placing it in your hand.

Her jade eyes locked on yours and your face heated immediately, you mumbled a “Thank you.” Before scurrying past her to the checkout.

Imagine her surprise when on the first day of classes, she walks into her astrophysics course and sees you, doodling in your notebook with that same concentrated look on your face.

Of course, she sits next to you, flashing that charming smile that has sweat gathering at your hands. She tells you her name then asks for yours and learns about your major, favourite course, and how you’re staying in a little apartment just outside the campus before more students and your professor filed in. You didn’t know why but you just felt so comfortable telling her things, She laughed at your corny jokes and made even cornier ones, and she admired the doodles that covered your notebook and the little duck pen you used.

You didn’t want to speak too soon, but it was safe to say you were harbouring a tiny bit of a crush on her.

Ellie on the other hand, was completely ready to admit it. She felt her love for you grow each second she was around you. Your smile quite literally felt like the sun shining upon her, your laugh made her want to drop her studies of space to pick up stand-up comedy just so she could make it her job to make you laugh. In her eyes, everything you did was perfect. Her thoughts were completely consumed by you, you, you.

And for a few months, things were amazing! You had been introduced to Dina and Jesse and even spent Halloween hanging out with the trio watching horror movies and eating each other's weight in candy. When the holidays rolled around you and Ellie, along with the others, cozied up under some blankets and made fun of cheesy Hallmark movies while she tried her hardest not to interlock her hands with yours even after your pinky brushed against hers for the sixth time.

During finals, Ellie and you organized designated study days that usually ended in giggling at stupid memes on each other's phones or late-night food runs. Of course, there were lingering touches and flirtatious glances here and there but you were too shy to act on it and Ellie would rather die than make you uncomfortable so she kept you just at arm's length. Besides, she knew you were too timid to approach anyone else, so in a way she had you all to herself.

Then, you met him. Some motherfucker whose name she didn’t care to remember. However, she did remember the innate feeling of anger that surged through her body when you gushed to her about him and how he was a history major and the way his glasses framed his face perfectly and whatever the fuck else you found interesting about him.

She nodded and laughed and smiled along with you when you would drone on about him but would excuse herself to the bathroom to tend to the crescent-shaped wounds in her palms from digging her fingers into them so hard.

She tried her best to not show these negative emotions to you because she knew how much you didn’t like when she got mad but fuck was it hard. Especially that one night when you were out with him and you hadn’t replied to her texts in over 5 hours. Man did her drywall take some damage that night.

And when you finally did reply you had completely disregarded her message and went on to boast about the time you had and how gentlemanly he was. All she could do was reply with a dry “sounds like fun🙂” before she went back to throwing a tantrum around her room and tormenting that poor wall…she’d have to remember to buy some spackle before the end of the semester.

Then, there was the time she trekked over to your apartment with some pizza for a surprise movie night and saw the bouquet placed in front of your door. She set the box down to pick up the flowers and read who it was from, her body reacted before she could rethink. She tore the flowers from the beautifully wrapped packaging and stomped on them over and over and over until all that was left were broken stems and tattered petals.

Thankfully, you got home just a few minutes later and missed her outburst. You gasped when you saw the smashed flowers and asked her what had happened, she shrugged and lied easily, claiming it was like this when she got there. She let out a breath when you shook your head and sighed, saying it was probably your next-door neighbor who had always been a bit of a grouch.

She had genuinely thought she was doing a pretty good job of hiding her true feelings for both you and him but it was when you gleefully announced that he was officially your boyfriend she knew she was done for. You squealed and pulled her in for a hug but it felt like her heart had shriveled up into a clump of black coal and woosh like magic, her love for you had turned into something twisted, something possessive.

It was when you invited her over to your apartment to eat dinner with him that she had started considering the idea that you knew she had a crush on you and you were just fucking with her emotions for fun.

How could you start dating, let alone seeing some random ass motherfucker when she was right here! She knew she could treat you better than he could even dream of, she knew everything about you and she’d make it known to you how perfect she was for you, one way or another.

That night at dinner she sat uncomfortably as you fluttered around your tiny kitchen, adding last-minute touches to the spaghetti you made and despite the grumble in her tummy it felt like she had no appetite when she watched the hungry way he looked at you, as if you were a juicy steak and he was a starved wolf.

Once you were finished plating the food and placing it on the table you sat down eagerly and tried your best to mediate the obvious tension.

“Soo uh, Ellie, you’ve been really into watercolour recently right?” You beamed.

“Uh-huh.” She said dryly, twirling her spaghetti around her fork.

“Oh that’s cool, you know watercolour as an art form has been around since Egyptian times! It’s funny to think that like—Cleopatra was painting with water and grapes or something!” He spoke and you giggled like it was the funniest joke in the world. She shot you a look that said really? because she knows she could make a joke that was way funnier, and would expel your real laugh.

“That’s cool. You know how to shut the fuck up?” She mumbled into her bite of spaghetti.

“Sorry?” He asked and you gave her a sideways glance.

She smiled tightly and swallowed before answering, “Just said that’s cool!”

Dinner dragged on as he droned about the history of the Renaissance or fucking Christopher Columbus, she didn’t actually know, she tuned him out. After you cleared the plates, you ushered them into your cozy living room for a movie and when you excused yourself to the bathroom she plopped down on the couch next to him, subtly pulling out her switchblade.

“So, Kevin—“

“Actually my name—“

“I don’t give a fuck what your name is, matter fact I don’t give a fuck about you in general. What are your intentions with ★?”

The man tensed up as Ellie expertly spun the blade around in her fingers.

“Uh—I mean, she seems cool and dating her has been pr—“

“Cool?” Ellie scoffed, “She’s fucking perfect, and I hope you know whatever you have going on with her right now? It won’t last. Soon she’s gonna see you for the limp-ass motherfucker you are.”

He was taken aback, “What?—I’m sorry, did I do something to offend you?”

“Your whole existence offends me.” She rasped, inching her blade closer to his neck. “She’s not meant to be with you.”

He furrowed his brows, “You like her, don’t you?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Before he could reply you were back from the bathroom and she slipped her blade back into her pocket and got up with a firm grip on his shoulder.

“What were you two talking about?” You asked as you grabbed a bag of chips from your small coffee table and tore into them.

“Oh you know, girl talk.” She smiled, digging her blunt nails into his shoulder. Translation: don’t say a fucking word.

You rolled your eyes playfully like you even had a clue of what was going on, “He’s not a girl, dumbass.”

She shrugged, stepping away from her previous seat to plop down on the other small sofa.

The rest of the night proceeded relatively smoothly, your boyfriend had been so shaken up by Ellie’s words that even with you sitting next to him he kept his distance with worried glances toward Ellie now and then. Ellie crunched on her popcorn happily and watched the movie with a satisfied smile and a chipper aura.

— ★

🤔 shall I put out the second part? only time (and interactivity! 💝 pls don’t let this flop) will tell!

#ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie angst #ellie au #ellie fic #ellie fluff #ellie smut #ellie x reader #jealousellie #tlou fanfiction #tlou

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beeshoesometimesdraws · 18 days

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Yall wanted to see stuff from my not tsams related dca au so here ya go!

I’m remaking the ref sheets for all the characters because most of em are pretty old now and can’t even be considered proper ref sheets- so I’ll post em as I finish em

Starting off with my version of Bloodmoon aka Harvest aka Harvey

Some facts about him under the cut 👇

As shown above in his ref, Harvest is a Halloween event animatronic that does shows and tells spooky stories and performs as a scare actor of sorts (I think of him as acting like that one scare actor, Bobbins the clown I think the name is; still being scary but also silly and lighthearted when he wants/needs to be)

Harvest is only technically “active” in the public eye from late August-the end of October though he’s allowed to wander around after hours year round and acts as double security alongside the staff bots and main security bot Blackhole

Harvest is the tallest of the dca model animatronics at 7’5

Harvest’s third eye was inspired by Narinder aka The One Who Waits from cotl because at the time when I created his first design I had been following artists posting lots of cotl related art and it influenced me

I want to reiterate that this au is not related to tsams and that Harvest is a completely different character from the tsams blood twins; he does not have a need nor obsession for blood and he’s pretty chill though he is still a mischievous and feral bastard (think of him like a lazy feral cat that just kinda chills but can still be scary when he wants/needs to be)

Also all of the animatronics in this au including the dca models have very animated features and can open and close and move their mouths and eyes (aka none of them are biblically accurate)

Btw any questions about this au I will gladly answer as I draw the rest of the refs (also I will still answer centaur au asks! I’m just more focused on this rn so it may take a bit- apologies)

#dear lost things #dear lost things au #fnaf bloodmoon #not tsams related #not tsams #dca au #dca fnaf #dca fandom #dca oc #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sb #fnaf sb au #my art #harvest is cool #one of my fav dca characters I’ve made

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ynsvnte · 3 months

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Till the Seasons Die: 22. Get em ahah

Warnings: swearing once, holding hands 💪🏼

Wc: 335

Prev | M.list | Next

Sunghoon's eyes widened when he saw yn walking along down the street..

“What..?” He asked himself. Last time he saw her was at their photoshoot 3 weeks ago. You looked up from your phone and saw Sunghoon in the distance. Your heart beat increases. You try to hide your face but it’s too late.

“Yn..” shit.. it was way too late anyways so you look back up and see Sunghoon waving at you. You wave back at him with a shy smile. God the effect this man has on you.

“Hey..” you replied. The silent air..making you a bit uncomfortable. “So what are you doing here.?” You asked Sunghoon. “Oh I was just heading back home from Y'know soobin stream..” oh yeah..

“Oh yeah I forgot I saw it earlier..” you said. Making Sunghoon slightly embarrassed.. Sunghoon only nodded his head before speaking up. “And what about you..?”

“Oh well I was going to go to the nearby coffee shop..” How could sunghoon forgot.. you and your coffee obsession. Back when you were dating. You would beg him to try new coffee shops with him. “Are you meeting up with somebody..?” Sunghoon wanted to slap himself for asking such a dumb question.. “No..why?”

“Nothing..umm..I gotta go..” Sunghoon tried fleeing..but you spoke up. “Wait Sunghoon..” you grabbed a hold of his arm. Making him stop in his tracks. Sunghoon looked down where your hands were on his arm before looking up at your face.. “yeah..?”

“Do you wanna perhaps join me?..only if you don’t mind of course.” How could sunghoon say no to you.

“Yeah, sure” oh boy now he was smiling. You smiled back at him before signaling him to be next to you. You both start walking together. It’s silent not a word, but that’s until you feel a hand grab yours.. you look to see Sunghoon hands, and blush..

“W-what..?” You say slightly flustered…

“Just let it be..” Sunghoon said holding your hand.. and so you do.

Synopsis: Yn and Sunghoon were past lovers well known in the modeling industry. But unfortunately they parted ways...yn being yn can't lose those feelings easily..neither can Sunghoon.Maybe there's still a chance or not..after yn makes a tiny mistake

Notes: I hate writing written parts I must do it for everyone 😞. Anyways DONT KNOW WHEN IS THIS GOING TO END TBH.. 🦧 it’s been 3 months since I started and I’m only on chapter 22 😒

Taglist: Open (send ask or comment to be added)

Taglist: @euncsace @firstclassjaylee @beommii @be0mlvr @mrchweeee @kissezfornamjoon @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @babyy-bambii @neruishoon @seunnimg @yyawnjun @mnxnii @sleepdeprivedline @pharaways @nxzz-skz @hiefisch @wolfietara @sungookie

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bibbykins · 10 months

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Moonlight Reign Ch. 5

A/N: Lmao hi! I'm back and this chapter is sorta boring but trust the process! Hopefully next chapter will be much sooner! Basically I post a chapter once I have the following one or two done~ Please enjoy and send asks and all that! I keep meaning to make a banner for this series, and one day I will have one!! As usual everyone thank @rapline-heaux my wonderful beta reader who read this months ago lmaooo

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yandere Mafia! BTS x Reader

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship, poly relationship, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mafia activities, crime, manipulation, crying, trauma, sensory flashbacks, murder, pining, past abuse, past neglect, familial issues, academic neglect, Taehyung and Jimin being mean, abandonment

By the time Jungkook returned to his apartment, all six of his lovers were seated around his dining table, waiting for him. The men looked at the youngest with an aura of moderate annoyance. They hated tardiness, and Jungkook could only imagine the story he spun about you.

“How are you going to be late to the emergency meeting you called?” Jin asked, sighing as he checked his nails impatiently.

“Go on, tell em where you were.” Taehyung snipped, but Yoongi clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“Don’t bother, he already whined about it.” Namjoon sighed out.

Jungkook snorted, “Yeah, I can tell by the way Jimin looks pissed too.” The MMA fighter bristled at this but sighed, crossing his arms.

“I’ll never understand what you guys have against her.” Hoseok rolled his eyes, “How is she, dare I ask?” He sarcastically spoke, “According to Tae she’s the Devil incarnate.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes at this, landing on the man in question to send him a glare, “Did he tell you how much of an asshole he was?”

“Funnily enough, he neglected to mention his behavior.” Yoongi spoke, not breaking his eye contact with Taehyung who shrunk in his seat a bit, “I also will never understand why she gets under both of your skin so much.” He looked to JImin who shifted in his seat, “None of our trysts have ever gotten to you both.”

“She’s different.” Taehyung snarled bitterly. No one said it, but the sentiment was there. You were different because Jungkook kept going back to you. You were different because instead of making him worse and leaving them to pick up the pieces, you made him… better. You helped him come from the depths of rock bottom in a way none of them had been capable of doing due to their own internal battles, and it weighed on the two men in a way that guilt could never fully encapsulate.

“Anyways.” Jungkook spoke, plopping down next to Yoongi who sat at the head of the table, “I’m sure everyone here wants to know why I called you here?” He asked, and the men looked on expectantly. It was rare for Jungkook to call these meetings, especially so close to the anniversary date. Truthfully, he was surprised that they were all even able to attend in the first place, but it was all fate after all, at least in his eyes, “Well, I have just given us the best anniversary gift yet.” The men in the room perked up noticeably.

“Did Byungjoo seriously give you something useful?” Jimin asked curiously, “I thought I was supposed to go in tomorrow because he’s not talking about the old man’s whereabouts?” He looked to Namjoon whose gaze stayed fixed on Jungkook.

“Yeah… you told me he wasn’t squealing?” The CEO asked suspiciously.

“And he didn’t, not about Byungyeol.” Jungkook confirmed, “But he did mention something… about the girl.” Yoongi’s back was pin straight as the younger man spoke.

“Isn’t she dead?” Hoseok asked, making Yoongi’s jaw set.

“Hey, we don’t know that for sure,” Jin argued for the sake of the second oldest who waited for Jungkook to continue with bated breath.

“Oh come on.” Taehyung huffed out, “That fire–”

“Enough.” Yoongi grit out, “Let him finish.”

Jungkook smiled a bit, all too eager to finally have you out in the open, “She’s alive.” The room went still as he continued, “He gave me her name, and I had to check it out to make sure he wasn’t lying but… I found her.”

“No way.” Jimin gasped, turning to the older man who had a lump in his throat, “What did you wanna do with her, boss?” The title was a bit sarcastic, “She sharing the same fate as Byungjoo?”

“No.” Jungkook and Yoongi spoke in unison, making the two look at each other curiously. Everyone in the room knew Yoongi had a certain fixation on finding the green girl, especially as they were preparing for the fall of the Moon group, but they weren’t sure why. The only person who really knew had been Jin who remained as tight-lipped as ever about the topic.

Yoongi cleared his throat to break some of the tension, “No, I don’t think I plan to kill her.” He spoke cooly, but Jungkook’s jaw set at the mere possibility.

“None of us will be killing or harming her.” Jungkook proclaimed, making the two bosses in the room glared at him.

“That’s not your call to make, JK.” Namjoon reminded him, but he shook his head in defiance.

“Why do you even care?” Jin asked curiously.

Taehyung watched with squinted eyes as he studied the scene before him. Jungkook never once cared about who lived or died. Hell, he hated attending most meetings. It didn’t make sense why he’d care about some random girl he didn’t know–

Oh.

Rage bubbled in the pit of Taehyung’s stomach as the puzzle pieces clicked into place, “It’s because she’s been right next door this whole time, isn’t it?” He piped up, and Jungkook’s glare at him deepened, “She’s fucking dea–” Taehyung stood and Jimin followed suit.

“Sit down.” Yoongi hissed, and the men had no other choice but to listen as he turned to the maknae, “Is that true?”

Jungkook pursed his lips and let out a short laugh, “And I had no fucking clue,” He admitted, and Namjoon wanted to bang his head on the table. All of the men knew that Jungkook wouldn’t lie about this kind of thing, not when it meant so much to Yoongi, but still–

“How could you be so careless–”

“We all thought she was dead!” Jungkook defended himself, and Yoongi remained quiet, “None of us knew her name, how she looked, hell, we didn’t even know her real age, evidently.” He sighed, “She didn’t even know about me.”

“What?” Hoseok chimed in, “You’re telling me this is all a coincidence?” He asked incredulously, but Jungkook stood his ground.

“The reason I’ve been so off these days?” He offered, and his boyfriends stiffened, “She saw Namjoon on the news as Bangtan Corp’s CEO, and she… I mean, she’s not an idiot. She added two and two together.” He bitterly admitted, “Our one rule was shattered, so we agreed to go our separate ways but…”

Jin scrunched his brows as he took it in, “You couldn’t let her go, could you?” He asked, and the implications made the men in the room feel ill. Jungkook, the man who could have multiple one-night stands in a night without feeling an ounce of affection for them, couldn’t let you, his friend, walk out of his life, “Jungkook you…”

“She was all I had during…” He trailed off, and the other men could fill in the blanks, “We found each other at our lowest, and now I see why she was so skittish at first it…” He sighed, “It was fate, I see that now.”

“Fate?!” Taehyung guffawed, “She was playing you!”

“How?!” He challenged, raising his voice back, “It’s been years and she’s never once asked me for anything!”

“Everyone calm down, okay?” Hoseok tried to mediate, “Look, I agree with Jungkook, there’s no way she knew or was playing him.” He defended and Jimin scoffed, “I’m serious. I was the one who watched her those days, alright?”

“Byungjoo had no idea I even knew her.” Jungkook mentioned, “I didn’t tell him I did, obviously. He just… immediately gave me her name and her phone number.” He said, but sighed, “She got a new phone the day after she saw Namjoon on the news, you know.” He admitted, “I know now Byungjoo called her that day and she freaked out, now I know why.”

“Freaked out?” Yoongi asked, expression unreadable.

“Why would she freak out if her uncle called?” Namjoon asked, the Moon family was supposed to be tight-knit.

“She’s…” Jungkook tried to find the word, “I don’t think she was raised how we thought at all, hyung.” He admitted, and it made the older man’s stomach churn, “I think we need to reevaluate everything we thought we knew about the Moon family.” Whispers in the Underworld spoke of a spoiled yet deadly princess who got everything she wanted at the snap of a finger. You were supposed to have been pampered to a nauseating degree.

“Why don’t we ask her ourselves?” Jimin bitterly added, unbelieving that you could be anything other than what they’d been told.

“Fine.” Jungkook surprisingly agreed, “But not tonight.”

“What are we even going to do with her?” Jin asked finally, “If we’re not going to kill her then what?” He felt the need to add, “We can’t let her run. Obviously, she was planning to.”

“We hire her.” Yoongi announced and all of the men except Namjoon looked at him in surprise.

“Just like that?” Hoseok chuckled, “Very well then.”

“What use do we have for her?” Jimin hissed just as Taehyung stood.

“You’re joking.” Taehyung seethed, “Hire her to what? Stab us in the back?”

“I haven’t heard anything to suggest she has any allegiance to her family.” Namjoon reasoned, “And she is a nurse, has been Jungkook’s very own for a while now.” He added with a tinge of bitterness, “It only makes sense that–”

“No way in hell am I going to the green girl prodigy killer to heal me.” Taehyung scoffed.

“Then don’t.” Yoongi clipped, making the man scowl further, “But if you need to, she is our new nurse, effective immediately.”

Hoseok, utterly amused, beamed a bit at this, “And no more coming to me to patch you up anymore.” He added, making Taehyung click his tongue, “I’m no good at it and it makes me have to cut into our supply.” He defended. Hoseok had some medical training, he had to in order to be the knowledgeable pharmacist he was now, but he didn’t like using it.

“And who’s going to tell her?” Jin asked, seemingly unphased by the night’s events, but he seldom was.

“I will.” Yoongi proclaimed, “I’ll speak with her tomorrow and lay out the terms after we hammer them out tonight.” Jungkook stiffened at the idea of the other members seeing you, but it was unavoidable. All he really cared about was the fact that your heart would remain beating and you would be relatively free.

Jimin glared at Jungkook, “What did you two talk about over there?” He asked.

Jungkook stiffened at the memory of just moments ago before returning his lover’s harsh gaze, “Have something you wanna say?”

“Interesting that Jungkook gets to keep his toy.” Taehyung spat, making the man in question snarl before Jimin had a chance to say anything.

“She is not a toy.” Yoongi hissed to everyone’s surprise. He cleared his throat, letting the heat melt from his body, “She is now a vital member of the group and should be treated as such.” This made Jungkook smile.

—

“...And then you tie it like this.” Eunhwa explained, tying the know just above the tip of your gash, “These are poligecaprone sutures, best for general tissue repair, like this.” She was so dutiful in her words, you almost envied how well-spoken she was. Eunhwa was a new instructor since the last one stopped showing up, and you didn’t have it in you to worry when she was so rotten. So far, Eunhwa was quite kind, but she made a displeased face at your wound, and you wondered if she blamed you for it. Father did, after all. He always said you had no business being as clumsy as you were.

Nevertheless, you watched the needle enter your skin and the knot she tied carefully as you nodded, ten-year-old mouth trying to form the word in silence as you did the next suture, the pattern being interrupted, “Pol–” You cut yourself off, looking at Eunhwa with surprise at the fact that you made a noise. You knew the rules, you knew legacies don’t speak unless they have something useful to say.

You gulped, waiting for admonishment or a behavior report to be made and handed to your uncle, but instead, she smiled, “Do you want help sounding it out?” She asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” You whispered out.

A brief moment of sadness, an emotion you couldn’t identify yet, flashed on her face before she dutifully guided you through the word.

You completed the knot and she checked your work with a nod, “Very good.” She mused before her eyes flicked to yours, “Did it hurt? Your father suggested I not give you numbing cream, but if it hurt too bad I can try to convince him.” She offered, but you shook your head. She looked at you quizzically, “It didn’t hurt?” You shook your head again. It hadn’t hurt more than anything else you’d taken, “You don’t want me to talk to him?”

You swallowed, left with no other choice but to talk, “I can take it. I must.” You echoed his words, “It’s my job.” You solemnly spoke and Eunhwa paused for a moment, before nodding.

“Very well.” She spoke softly, “I won’t talk to him, then. Just, speak freely around me, okay?” She asked, “I won’t tell, I promise.”

You nodded, unable to say that you didn’t know how to speak freely.

—

If sleep found you, it certainly didn’t feel like it. Your eyes opened, and it felt like a mere blink. Nevertheless, the sun was slowly beginning to light the sky. The world was still turning for you, for now. You wondered how long you could keep that up.

It wasn’t going to be long now before the devil was coming to collect your soul in the form of one of the Bangtan men, so you decided to use your last moment to speak to the only other person who ever cared what you had to say.

The line rang only twice before she picked up, and before she could say anything you spoke, “It’s over.” You breathed, “They found me.”

“What?” Eunhwa asked, and you could hear a door close, “No, that can’t be–”

For the first time in your life, you cut her off, “It’s okay.” You breathed out shakily, “I lived a bit.” You wanted to say you were ready to die, but you weren’t. You weren’t and the fact made you envious of your past self. A puppet with no concept of a life to live can’t fear death.

“No you didn’t.” She seethed, making your jaw clench. She was right. Your life had just barely started. You still had so much to learn and so many things to do that were now evaporating right before your eyes, “Are you sure they’re going to kill you?” She asked, and your brows scrunched.

“They’ve been looking for me this long.” You pointed out, “Why would they keep me alive? Even if Jungkook were to plead my case.”

“Why would they kill you though?” Her voice was too hopeful for you, but you let her speak anyway, “Why would they kill someone they’ve been pursuing this hard?”

“Eunhwa–” You were cut off by a sharp knock on the door that made your stomach fall, “Thank you.”

“Don’t talk like that.” She hissed, but you could hear the quiver in her voice, “I-I’m going to make a few calls and–” The knock on your door pounded louder this time, and you smiled sadly.

“I have to go.” You simply said before hanging up. You took a deep breath before approaching the door. You figured death was best faced without thought. You had spoken to the one person from your past life that would miss you, and that was enough.

The doorknob was unbelievably cold in your hand as you opened it. You didn’t realize you were looking down until you were left to stare at the fanciest pair of dress shoes you’d seen in a while. Finally, you looked up to face the man before you, and it was like time stopped for a moment. Something about his sharp eyes was eerily familiar, and it nearly gave you a headache trying to think about it.

Yoongi on the other hand, found himself blown away by you. Finally, after years of searching and clawing his way through unwritten records of the underground, here you were. Right under his nose this whole time. How many times had he passed you in the elevator or in the mail room? You were beautiful, stunning even, so how could he have missed you for this long? He watched you drink him in with knitted brows and a brief flash of recognition nearly made him jump back. Could you truly recognize him, even after all you went through since?

“Do… Do I know you?” You asked, and Yoongi smiled. You could see the melancholy dripping from the expression, making you feel even more uneased, “Are you here to kill me?” You asked, voice smaller than you hoped but you supposed it wasn’t going to matter much pretty soon.

“Quite the opposite.” He quickly corrected you. Yoongi couldn’t kill you even if he wanted to. You may not be able to recognize him, but he’d know your face anywhere. It was his one comfort for a long time until it was ripped from him, “May I come in?” He raised a brow and you shrugged.

“I don’t suppose I have much of a choice.” You mumbled under your breath before walking to your couch.

Yoongi shut the door behind him, studying your form. Even in this despaired state, you were full of more life than he’d ever seen before. A smidge of jealousy boiled in his blood at the realization Jungkook got to see you laugh and act aloof like a friend would this whole time. He shook it off, sitting on the armchair next to the evidently second-hand furniture you sat on, “Needless to say, I am involved with Bangtan.” You nodded, eyes clouded with a million different emotions, “I am Min Yoongi, one of the seven bosses.” You sat on the couch next to the chair, never taking your eyes off of him.

“I don’t recognize you like I do Namjoon.” You spoke, studying his face further.

He flashed you a tight smile, heart panging from hearing you say you don’t recognize him, “I’m in charge of running our underground operations and appearances.” He explained and your mouth formed a small O for a moment.

“Wait.” You spoke, studying him further, “Min…” His surname stuck to your lips for a reason you couldn’t place, “I know that name I…” You bit your lip, you prided yourself on remembering faces and placing them just as well, but something about him clouded that ability, “Did I…”

“No, I don’t have a vendetta against you.” He shook his head, and you scrunched your brows, “I do against your father and uncle, but you’ve done nothing to harm me.” He spoke, “It’s why we plan to let you live.”

“And not them.” You finished for him, heart dropping a bit when he nodded. You knew you should’ve been more upset hearing that your father and uncle were to be murdered, but you didn’t care too much if you were being honest. It wasn’t as if they would’ve felt any different if the roles were reversed, even if the child in you was mourning them.

However, Yoongi was unnerved by your lack of reaction, “Does that upset you?” He asked, genuinely unable to tell.

“Not really, no.” You spoke honestly, not wanting to nor trained in the art of lying all that well, “So I get to live?” The glimmer of hope in your eyes squeezed at his chest in a way that made him shift a bit.

“In exchange for something else.” He confirmed, and your body went stiff as you waited for him to continue, “Your time and knowledge.”

You sighed. Fuck, you were screwed if he needed you to know anything of use, but most importantly, you were tired, “If you think I’m at all still connected to the Underworld…”

“No, no.” He stopped you short, and you looked at him quizzically, “I would’ve found you long ago if you were.” You nodded, and his confidence was all you needed in order to see him for what he was. He was the man who triggered the downfall of your family. You wanted to hate him for it, but you couldn’t, not really, “We all agreed to hire you on as our new nurse” Your breath hitched at his words, mind swimming with a million different things, “We will compensate you for your time and stock whatever supplies you need. You will also have our protection.”

You nodded, but you could hardly believe it, “Who will be my patients?” You asked.

“The seven of us.” He didn’t need to elaborate much further than that, “The lower echelons have their own designated medical services.” He explained, and you were a little impressed by it it all. Your father’s organization was not nearly this… well, organized. You and Eunhwa were the primary medical services for the upper echelons and the lower members had to fend for themselves.

“And can I still have my current job?” You asked, and you breathed a sigh of relief when he nodded.

“Yes, it’s best that way.” He confirmed, “If any of us need you during your work hours, we will make sure to tell you beforehand so we can coordinate that in a way that doesn’t look suspicious.” He said, but it all sounded too good to be true.

You fixed a sharp look on him, “What else?”

He sighed, “Tomorrow, we plan to have you come forward.” You had to grip the couch to stop your bones from turning to jelly at the fear that burned you from the inside, “Without revealing your identity fully, of course.” He quickly added, but it did nothing to ease you, and something about your evident panic made him feel sick, “We plan to have you announce your intent to bring your father and uncle to justice. It may draw the old man out.” He leaned forward, trying to catch your panicked gaze that’d been darting across the room, “All you have to do is record a voice line tonight, include something that only you would know, and send it to me.” He said, and it slowed your heart a mere fraction, “We will take care of the rest.”

“How will you explain this to the public?” You asked, but he simply shook his head, “They’re going to demand my head I bet.” You were a cold-hearted killer. You knew that the few people that did hear of you firsthand had seldom good to say. Who even knew what your father publicized about you? You stayed away from the news because you didn’t need to know.

“How scared you are right now tells me that the public will never have been so happy to be wrong about someone.” He mused, and your brows scrunched in confusion, “You were supposed to be some prissy spoiled heiress who killed when she bribed to.”

“Bribed? Spoiled?” You balked, shaking your head, “That–” You didn’t even know what those words really meant until you met Jungkook, “How did–”

“Your father controlled the narrative for a long time.” He spoke, words heavier than he knew, “He won’t now.” He spoke as if it were so simple, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but be honest about what kind of man he and Byungjoo were.” He chuckled, no amusement behind it, “Taehyung will be by in a bit to take your statement and give you the contract.” He stood, and you wanted to complain about Taehyung being the one to do it. However, you held your tongue, only nodding, obedient as ever and you hated it. But what choice did you have?

“Yes, sir.” You sighed, and the silent submission made Yoongi feel disgusted with himself.

“No need for that.” He shook his head, making you look up at him in confusion, “Please, just call me Yoongi.” His plea was a little too noticeable, but you nodded anyway, “I’m not your father nor your uncle.” He said softly, but that was only something you would believe when you saw it for yourself, “Were they…” He stopped, trying to think of how to ask such a thing, “You really weren’t spoiled or sheltered, were you?” He asked, already knowing just by how you looked away.

“No, not in the way you think.” You breathed, “I was an employee more than anything.” You murmured, embarrassed for some reason, “I see that now more than ever.”

“I see.” He simply said, “And Jungkook…” You stiffened at the mention, “Has he been good to you?” He asked against his better judgment. This wasn’t his business, no matter how much he wanted it to be.

You nodded, and he felt his shoulders relax, “No one had ever been so kind to me.” You refrained from cursing him for bringing the Underworld back to your door. Not only were you unsure how angry you were, you doubted his boyfriend would fancy hearing it.

“Good.” He simply said before taking his leave.

—

“Look, I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me here,” Taehyung said when you opened the door to reveal him and Jungkook’s favorite MMA fighter, Park Jimin, at his side. You didn’t even have the energy to be surprised as he regarded you with as much hatred as Taehyung held, “So let’s get this over with.” He pushed past you to enter your apartment. Namjoon trailed behind them, at least having the decorum to nod at you.

You thought about introducing yourself to Jimin, but decided against it at his glare, “Right.” You simply breathed.

“First, here’s the contract.” Jimin shoved the paper toward you as you read through it. You may not have been the best speaker or the best writer, but you could sure as hell read. Reading was all you could do for a long time. When you signed your name, his nose scrunched, “You write like a grade-schooler.” He spoke, and it pricked at your deepest shame. You had only been writing for the most part for five years.

The pen snapped in your hand, but you paid no attention to the ink that spilled onto your skin, “Fuck you.” You hissed, taking him aback for a moment.

“Watch it.” Taehyung snapped, pausing as he set up the equipment.

“I don’t talk back unless spoken to.” You snarled, moving to wash the ink off, “I don’t need this from either of you, especially not tonight.” You sat at the table, waiting for him to position the mic, “So let’s just get this over with, I have work tomorrow.”

“Everyone relax.” Namjoon finally spoke, “We can be adults about this.” He glared at the three of you, before letting his gaze land on you, “I’m going to ask you questions, and you respond accordingly.” You nodded.

“Okay, Ms. Moon, I say as this is not your real last name, please address your father Byungyeol.” He spoke into the mic. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. What the hell was there to say? You had laid it all out to him five years ago. You had shown true and genuine weakness, real desperation, and he didn’t hesitate in turning his back to you.

You looked at Namjoon, expression totally lost and much more vulnerable than you wanted. Something about the way you looked like a puppy tugged at his heartstrings a bit in a way he didn’t understand, “What? Don’t wanna disparage your precious dad?” Taehyung taunted, snapping the CEO from his trance.

Your eyes snapped to him in a sharp glare, “How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t know one thing about me?” You seethed, but he looked less than convinced.

“Look, just pretend he was rotten and mean and you’re scared of him.” Jimin spoke to you as if you were a child, and it only made you angrier, “You should be used to lying, come on princess.”

“Enough!” Namjoon silenced the two men, “If you upset her it’ll show in her statement.” He spoke, as cold as ever, “Behave.” He ordered before looking to you, “Now, tell me is Byungyeol a good man?”

“No.” You spoke, immediately, and you were both disappointed when he waited for you to elaborate and you had nothing to say. You didn’t know how to do this, and it pissed you off. Jungkook knew how to keep you talking all the time, and so did Eunhwa, but outside of them, you were a mere soundboard. Namjoon could see the frustration on your face, and it unsettled him.

Why were you having such a hard time talking? He looked around the room to see his lovers glaring harshly down at you and figured maybe that was the reason. He sighed, “How is she supposed to feel comfortable saying anything with you two looking at her like that?” He asked, shaking his head, “Bring Jungkook or Hoseok in.” He waved them off with a sigh.

“No, it’s fine.” You grit out, the pride in you swelling, “They can think what they want to.” You didn’t even dignify them with a glare, “Again.” You nodded at Namjoon who finally broke his disbelieving look at you with a sigh.

“Okay.” He fixed his tie despite this whole thing only being audio, but you supposed it just made sense he was constantly aware of his appearance, “Let’s try a different approach.” He announced, “Just talk directly to your father.” He said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, “Tell him to turn himself in and be sure to mention something only you would know. Do the same with your uncle for the sake of optics.” He ordered and you wanted to say you weren’t sure if your father committed his actions towards you to memory. Odds are many of those days and nights tattooed in your memory weren’t out of the ordinary for him, as mundane as brushing his teeth. However, you shut your mouth. It wasn’t your problem if it didn’t work.

You nodded and he gestured for you to start after Taehyung clicked the record button, “Father, I…” You took a deep breath as you tapped on your thigh mindlessly, “I think it’s time to atone for your sins.” Your words were shaky, “Remember? We don’t show fear, and you shouldn’t now.” The words were heavy on your tongue, “You told me that you find me in three years… that we would be a normal family after I begged you not to leave me alone, all by myself in a world I never got to see.” You wanted to choke on your father’s false promise, “It’s been five years since that day, and I’ve grown up a lot since then. I understand now more than ever how wrong you were about so much, and I have solemnly accepted the consequences of my actions under your guidance.” Your leg began bouncing as you spoke, “It’s time for you and uncle to do the same.” You tried to think of anything else to say, but it was all you had, so you looked at Namjoon, “Good?”

His eyes were clouded, and you were unable to make out how exactly he felt. However, one thing remained that was clear, he was undeniably skeptical of you. That was fine, you didn’t need his trust, you just needed your heart to be beating, “Yeah, that’ll do for now.” He nodded to Jimin and Taehyung, “If he doesn’t come forward, we may need more.” You nodded, and that was thankfully enough for him.

“You can let yourselves out.” You sighed, “I’m exhausted, so goodnight.” You didn’t bother to wait for a response as you turned on your heel and shut your bedroom door behind you.

Namjoon opened his mouth to mention that they didn’t have a key, but you didn’t seem to care anyway. He sighed, a mix of conflicting emotions swirling in his chest as Taehyung packed up.

“She’s the worst.” Tarhyung grumbled under his breath as Jimin curtly nodded. Namjoon rolled his eyes, knowing the two men well enough to see when they felt a twinge of regret. It was obvious at least some of what they heard about you was incorrect– if your statement was to be believed, that is.

----------------------

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Masterlist

#bts mafia au #bts fanfic #bts series #bts poly au #ot7 x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #bts x reader #mafia bts #yandere mafia bts

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strawberriemarswrites · 4 months

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CHAPTER ONE

Chapter Summary: Bartolomeo is your neighbor and has it really bad for you. The kind of bad where your stuff is out of place and going missing. Pairing: Bartolomeo x F!Reader Rating: Mature, SFW chapter TW: Stalking, breaking and entering, obsessive behavior Ao3 Link: Chapter One (3,510 words)

You moved to the city about four months ago. Life had become stagnant and suffocating, especially after finishing college. You needed to get away; from overbearing parents, from your snobbish peers, from everyone. The only good connection you made in college was able to get you an archivist job in the heart of the city, and you snapped it right up. You applied for whatever apartments were in the area that you could afford, and went for the first one that became available.

That might’ve been your first mistake, really. For one thing, it was in a grittier part of town. It was also small, barely the size of two dorm rooms put together, and the neighbors below you were always yelling at each other or loudly fucking each other. But the building was clean, the rent was cheap, and the neighbor across the hall was friendly enough. A bit crass and blunt, but friendly.

His name was Bartolomeo. He was a mean-looking motherfucker by all accounts: wild green hair, septum piercing, tattoos — he was exactly the kind of person people from your hometown would have hated on appearance alone. He had an odd sort of overbite that showed his long canines like a vampire, except that all his teeth were equally sharp, and at first you’d been intimidated by both that and his impressive height. (After a few trips on the train to and from work, you noticed much stranger and much taller folks, and figured it must have just been a quirk of diverse city life).

Despite all appearances, however, Bartolomeo was nice. He held the elevator if he saw you running up, even if it was nearly shut. Some days you’d see him in the hall and he’d stop to chat for a while. One day you realized you two had been talking for almost thirty minutes, and only stopped because he’d gotten a call from his coworker asking him where the hell he was. Even running late, he still moved and talked with an aloof sort of air about him, like nothing could get to him.

Early on, maybe a few weeks after moving in, you admitted to him that you’d never lived fully alone before, and wondered if maybe you made the right choice to live in such a rough part of town. Bartolomeo had laughed, like finding the neighborhood rough was something he’d never considered. You still remembered what he’d told you:

“People around here aren’t too big on hospitality, but they mind their own business. Don’t mess with them, they won’t mess with you.” He then smiled wide, showing off the rest of his uniquely sharp teeth. “Tell you what — since you’re so nervous about it, if anyone does mess with you, let me know. I’ll take care of ‘em for ya.”

Just the memory of how he had smiled that day brought a faint blush to your cheeks. Fine, you’d admit it: aside from being nice, Bartolomeo was also frustratingly attractive. His devil-may-care charm was hard not to be lured in by, and you couldn’t help but feel some of it rubbing off on you the more you got to chatting. He was loud and so were his friends, and the landlord rarely stuck around long if he stepped into the hallway. You definitely felt a little safer knowing he was around.

Two months ago, the troubles began.

It had been a day like any other. Average shift, average commute, about the only exciting part of the work day had been your coworker, Robin, inviting you for drinks on Friday. You came home and went to your bedroom to change into comfier clothes, but something was off. You couldn’t tell at first, but when you reached for the top drawer of your dresser to pull out some pajama pants —

It was already open.

Just slightly, with the edge of your pajama pants stuck in the drawer’s track.

Now, you weren’t necessarily a meticulous person, but in general you kept your dresser pretty tidy, so it seemed odd to find it this way. Puzzled, you pulled out the pants and a loose t-shirt, frowning as you put them on. Had you been in a hurry that morning? It was possible, since you were struggling to remember what you had for breakfast. Hustling through your routine and being a bit careless with the drawer as a result wasn’t totally out of the question. You pushed down the knot in your stomach and moved on with your evening, the incident forgotten.

Or at least, it would have been forgotten, had there not been further incidents.

Another day, you had been unexpectedly called off. There had been a power outage on the block your workplace was on, and they hadn’t been able to get the emergency lights working. You spent the morning getting your laundry done and putting fresh bed sheets on the bed, and left to run extra errands. When you came back, exhausted but satisfied with your personal productivity, you went to jump into your bed for a quick nap before dinner.

You stopped just short literally jumping in when you found the comforter was already disheveled somehow. As if someone had been laying on top of it.

The frequency of problems seemed to only increase from there. You came home to find your door was unlocked, when you were nigh-obsessive on double-checking it before leaving. Your favorite t-shirt to sleep in had gone missing, and you had just put it in the hamper the night before. You had a journal in your nightstand that you didn’t write in terribly often, but with the strange things happening you felt it’d be nice to get it all documented — you opened it and found creases in a couple of the pages, like it had been clumsily closed and tossed back into the drawer.

You had convinced yourself that everything was fine. Maybe you lost your t-shirt at the laundromat. Maybe you thought you double-checked the door but you hadn’t. Maybe you were nodding off the last time you handled your journal. Maybe, maybe, maybe. At this point, the only thing you were sure of was that you were in denial that any of this was fine.

In hindsight, you really should have brought it up to Bartolomeo sooner than you did.

Drinks with Robin and a few other coworkers became a biweekly affair, lining up with payday. The weather was finally warming up after a particularly cold April, so you put on one of your frillier blouses that you were saving for such an occasion and a pair of jeans. Then you spent way too long looking for your favorite perfume.

“Motherfucker!”

You slammed your palm against the wall in frustration. Of course. Why the fuck not? With all the other weird happenings, why wouldn’t that fall victim to the bullshit, too? Shaking the sting out of your hand, you got up from the bathroom floor and stormed off, snatching up your purse. You’d just have to hope no one noticed the blouse was a little stuffy-smelling from being put away for so long. Frustrated, you slammed the apartment door on your way out, triple-checking the lock and muttering curses the whole way.

“You good?”

Bartolomeo’s voice behind you made you jump and fumble your keys. With a deep sigh you crouched down and scooped them up, running a hand through your hair. “I’ll be fine. Just running late for payday drinks.”

“Oh yeah,” he said, and you saw him lean to one side in your peripherals. “That’s tonight. When are you guys gonna come out to my bar, huh?”

“When I’m more confident that they won’t mind the heavy metal music,” you said and stood upright, smiling and adding, “Which might be sooner than you think.”

As usual, Bartolomeo was the picture of nonchalance, leaning against his doorframe in a Cannibal Corpse t-shirt that had seen better days. He gave you a sort of half-smirk then nodded to your door. “You sure you’re okay? Sounded like you might’ve hurt yourself in there.”

“Yeah, just...” you sighed and shook your head, “kinda frustrated. I can’t find my good perfume.” You paused, remembering your conversation with him when you first moved in. “Hey, uh, Barto?”

He stood up slightly straighter at the nickname. “Yeah?”

“Can you, uh...” you paused again, twisting the strap on your purse. His suddenly intense stare made you blush and avert your eyes. “Would you mind keeping an eye on my apartment when I’m gone? Like, if you’re around, let me know if you hear or see anything?”

“Yeah, sure!” he answered with surprising eagerness, before he cleared his throat and quickly reverted to the casual tone. “I mean — can I ask why?”

You would have laughed at the outburst, had you not been trying to find the words to explain you thought someone was breaking into your apartment. “It’s just... I don’t know. Some of my stuff’s gone missing. Random things. And sometimes I come home and there’ll be something out of place, or a little off. Like... someone else has been there.”

“Oh, shit.” Bartolomeo pushed off the doorframe, the chain hanging from his belt clinking as he took a step closer. “How long’s this been goin’ on for?”

You continued avoiding his gaze. “Two months, maybe?”

“What?”

“I figured I was just forgetting things,” you said quickly. “It happens, I can be a little spacey. But... not like this. It feels different.” You finally looked at him again with a sheepish smile, your heart melting a bit at the worried look he had. “I probably should have mentioned something sooner. I’m sorry to freak you out like this.”

He shrugged, now suddenly avoiding your gaze. “At least you said somethin’ before it got any worse.”

A chill went down your spine. You didn’t want to think about what “worse” entailed.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I told ya you could come to me if anyone was messin’ with you.” He smiled, his fully-bared teeth all the more imposing as he punched one fist into the opposite palm. “I’ll keep an eye out for ya. If I catch anyone hangin’ around where they don’t belong, they’ll be shittin’ sideways for the rest of their life.”

Despite yourself, you laughed. All things considered, you felt lucky that you had such a cool neighbor.

Relief gave way to panic when your phone pinged; a reminder that you had somewhere to be. You cussed under your breath and started rushing toward the elevator, but not before turning and waving to Bartolomeo, shouting as you ran, “Thank you! I owe you one!”

“Don’t mention it!” he called and waved back, watching you turn the corner for the elevator. He leaned against the wall next to his door, shoving his hands in his pockets and listening for the soft ding of the elevator’s arrival. Once he was sure you were out of earshot, he stepped back into his apartment and shut the door, taking a deep breath.

“FUCK!”

Bartolomeo put both his hands over his face, yelling every curse word he knew. How could he have gotten so careless?! He knew he’d gotten way too comfortable with sneaking into your apartment, but two months? You’d been onto him for two months?! He groaned and dragged his hands down, wincing when one of his fingers tugged on his nose ring. No, that wasn’t right; you weren’t onto him, specifically. You only noticed the missing stuff, and whatever it was you meant by “something out of place”.

(He knew exactly what you meant by that, considering his favorite thing to do in your apartment was lie down on your bed and cuddle your pillows.)

Admittedly, part of him was relieved. You asked him for help! Sure, from the time you noticed to the time you said something had him a little concerned, and sure, it was his doing to begin with — but you weren’t aware of the second part! And, if you hadn’t said something, it would only have been a matter of time before he got caught in the act. He had time to correct that now. With you asking for help, it meant he’d be seeing you more, so he wouldn’t have to break into your apartment anymore, and he could act like it never happened!

(He was aware, on some level, that it wouldn’t be that simple. It wouldn’t be enough just to see you more. He had to be with you.)

Bartolomeo groaned again and sat down on the couch, head still in his hands. His heart had finally calmed down, having been racing just from talking to you. You were so cute, from how you fidgeted when you were nervous, to how your laugh sounded, to how you looked in that outfit (well, he thought you always looked nice in any outfit, but that was beside the point). And your eyes — what he wouldn’t give to be able to look into your eyes for more than a handful of seconds. He’d started a habit of looking at your nose when you two chatted, just to keep from turning his head away when your eyes were too much, but it only led to him fighting the insatiable urge to kiss it. He wanted to kiss your whole face, really, but if he started thinking about that, his heart rate was bound to pick up again.

All this to say, Bartolomeo had it bad for you. Real bad.

It started out innocently enough when you moved in across the hall. He thought you were cute from the start, and wanted to be nicer than usual; holding the door if he saw you coming, taking time to chat with you. But then the more he saw you, the more you two talked, the more he found himself looking forward to it. Before he knew it, he was listening for the elevator every time he could, just so he had a chance to talk to you again.

Even though it wasn’t hard to tell you lived alone, you admitting out loud that it was the first time about sent him into shock. Seriously? And in the shittiest neighborhoods you could have possibly ended up in? Something in his brain cranked up to eleven, and he was determined you needed someone looking out for you. Someone close by, who knew the area well, and had more than enough street smarts under his belt. Of course, that someone would be him. Why wouldn’t it be? And so, he came up with something to ease your worries (it was mostly true, in that at the very least the people in the building and running businesses around the neighborhood minded their own), and offered help. The relief on your face was well worth it.

Bartolomeo hadn’t intended for things to get this... intense, though.

The first time he’d broken in had been on impulse. See, the apartment building had older fire escapes, where the ladder wasn’t as compact as it really should be and about half of it hung down below the bottom landing. Most people still couldn’t reach it without significant effort, either by dragging over something to climb on or risking their neck by trying to parkour that shit.

Bartolomeo, however, was not most people. Standing at seven-foot-three, he just had to reach up and haul his own weight for a few rungs. He only did it to prove to himself that he could, in case you were ever in trouble and he needed to get in quickly without fighting with the front door.

Then, he wondered if it would take very long to get to the fourth floor, where both of you lived. He knew he wouldn’t have to worry about the tenants on the way up making a fuss; the unit on the second floor was used by the landlord for storage, and the people directly below you were always too busy arguing or fucking to notice anything.

And then it just. Happened. You weren’t home, and the window was so easy to open, and he had to know everything. How you lived, what you showered with, what sort of stuff did you keep. He had a general idea from talking to you, but he wanted, needed more.

The first time, Bartolomeo just sat on the windowsill, looking around and taking in the bedroom. You kept the floor clear, so if he felt brave enough to venture further in the room he wouldn’t have to worry about tripping and breaking something. You had a desk with a bookshelf built around it that was full of books and video games and figurines, and one of those desktop computers with the rainbow lights on the tower. Your bed was neatly made, adorned with overstuffed pillows, with a storage bench at the foot that was currently being commandeered by a collection of plushies dressed like pirates. The bed itself looked wide enough for two, though he might have to get a little creative to make it work with his taller height.

Not that. He was thinking about laying next to you. Or holding you close. Or watching you fall asleep.

(He absolutely was thinking those things. But in his bed, not yours. What could he say? He needed his California King. It wasn’t perfect, but he couldn’t afford one of the fancy custom beds that other city dwellers somehow got their hands on.)

Bartolomeo resolved that breaking in was fine, so long as he always took off his boots (couldn’t rightfully wear shoes into your apartment now, could he?) and didn’t touch anything. That way you’d never know. He stuck to that for the first handful of trips. Then one time he couldn’t resist picking up and fawning over your monkey plushie at the foot of the bed, so he decided it was okay to touch things, but he had to put them back exactly as he found them. Before he knew it, one day he was poking around the jewelry trays on your dresser, and...

He only had the top drawer open for a minute. Two, tops. Any longer and he would have gotten dizzy from how much blood was rushing downwards. He slammed it shut and made a beeline for the fire escape, nearly forgetting his boots in the process. He told himself he wouldn’t be looking in there without your permission, otherwise the temptation would be too great and he'd steal something he really shouldn’t.

(Which is why he eventually stole your shirt instead.)

Okay. So Bartolomeo let his little guilty pleasure get out of control. He just hadn’t realized how easily that happened. Now that you said something to him, he was going to ease off. He pushed up off the couch and sauntered to his room, putting his hands back in his pockets, flinching when one hand touched something he forgot he’d still had on his person. Frowning, he pulled the perfume bottle out, a slight twist in his stomach at the thought he’d frustrated you with his antics. He really hadn’t intended to keep it — honest. He only swiped it because the shirt under his pillow was starting to smell like the rest of his stuff. Not necessarily a bad thing, as it wasn’t like he was unclean (he was unkempt and dirty minded, even peed in the shower sometimes, but not unclean), but. The whole reason he took the shirt was because it smelled like you.

He turned the bottle over in his hands and sat on the edge of his bed. The label on it just said “Elegia” — why couldn’t the names of these things be simple? Fucking vanilla, or flowers, or whatever, so that he could put it back and get something similar. He supposed at least this way he could try to find another bottle online, so he could get it exact, but still... what a pain. Point being, if it had been easier to remember the name, he wouldn’t have had to take it.

...Okay, fine, Bartolomeo stole it thinking you wouldn’t notice. You had a few others, he figured it’d be fine.

With a sigh he reached under his pillows for your shirt, unable to keep from smiling when he saw it. It was light purple, with the words “Bite Me” on it in a black, drippy font. He saw you wear it on laundry day once; it took an immeasurable amount of self control not to take it as an invitation. He then uncapped the perfume and sighed again, his eyes rolling back just a bit. At least he guessed right; this was definitely the one you wore the most often. It smelled like vanilla and strawberries.

Like you.

Shaking out of his reverie, he sprayed the shirt and folded it back up under his pillows. It had been in his possession for too long for him to give it up without arousing suspicion, so he’d settle for returning the perfume.

While you were gone, of course.

#bartolomeo #bartolomeo one piece #bartolomeo the cannibal #bartolomeo x reader #bartolomeo x you #one piece x reader #reader insert #yandere!bartolomeo #yandere #i'll fucking digest you one kiss at a time #ifdyokaat #hehehehehe i'm posting this from work #the other three chapters are up on AO3 but i'll put them here too if there's interest

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starstruckkittensweets · 1 year

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“Everything” Pt. I | Dabi x Reader

“You love him—everything he was, everything he is, and everything he will be.”

Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: Dabi x Reader Words: 13.9k

A/N: I’m a slut for Dabi. Scratch that—I am a MASSIVE slut for Dabi. And that couch scene in 6x17 only solidified my obsession with him. I have no excuse for this fic, except that it’s angsty, filthy, and way too long for its own good. I just have too many thoughts on Dabi as both a character and a love interest and I shamelessly projected myself onto Reader the entire time writing this. I wanna hold him and tell him it’s all gonna be okay, but at the same time I wanna fuck his brains out like there’s no tomorrow. The second half will be uploaded later this week, once I finish editing it. I hope you enjoy! (Now let me go hide my face in shame...)

Also a huge thank you to my dear friend @lostinwildflowers, who’s just as thirsty for Dabi as I am! Birch, it’s because of you cheering me on that this fic finally got finished! (And further down the rabbit hole we go!)

Warnings: 18+ only (minors please DNI), fem-bodied reader, spoilers for Season 6 (up to Episode 17 at least), Reader and Dabi may or may not be in the healthiest mindset to fuck right now (that won’t stop em though), Reader is somewhat dependent on Dabi, oral sex (f. receiving), face sitting, vaginal sex, spanking, quirk use, branding, crying (Reader is a bit of a crybaby but she means well), hair pulling, fingering, blood tears, Dabi’s an asshole and doesn’t want to admit that Reader actually loves and cares for him

Part I | Part II

You’ve been to this mansion exactly three times before.

The first time was in the middle of the fall, when the leaves were crisp and the winds were brisk. It was an old shabby building in the middle of nowhere, worn out and run down by the countless inhibitors that came before you. At the time Dabi had brushed it off, claiming they were no longer a threat to you, that it was now the perfect little getaway from the rest of the world. (As long as the rest of the League was off elsewhere, of course.)

He had wrapped you up in his arms and pulled you down on that ratty old couch, the one with faded gold carvings and fluff poking out of the torn cushions. You had been a little wary at first; it wasn’t exactly the most pleasant smell in the world. But he kept you busy with his burning kisses and wandering hands, and eventually you dozed off right there in his arms, with his chest pressed against your back.

The second time was in the dead of winter, just before the New Year. You had forced him down on that damn couch and pressed every wad of gauze you could find to the fresh wounds on his arms and torso. The bastard had been too rough and ripped his staples again, a thin trickle of red seeping down his skin. You had yelled at him for that, as though you were his mother and not just the girl he’d preferred to keep his bed warm. So loud your voice rang throughout the halls of the mansion, enough for Twice and Toga to peek their heads around the corner to see what all the fuss was about.

The third time was a little more pleasant, on the eve of the eighteenth of January. A night of strolling around the city too far from home led you back to the quiet mansion—luckily you were the only ones there at the time. The two of you were tipsy on whatever booze Dabi had managed to get his hands on that day; your lips were thrumming from his kisses, your body as light as a feather in his arms. He carried you into a secluded room on the second floor, the one he’d claimed for his own so long ago, and his fingers pressing into the meat of your thighs. Before you knew it you were being crushed beneath him on the bed, moaning his name into his mouth as he slipped your shirt over your head.

Neither of you awoke until late the next morning, when he oh-so generously accompanied you on the walk back to your apartment, pulling a worn black hoodie over your head to hide the bruises on your neck and arms. It was frayed at the sleeves and smelled of smoke, but it was the warmest thing you’d ever worn in your life.

And now you’re standing outside this mansion a fourth time, with that old hoodie hugging your chest, keeping out the last winter chill of the season.

The League has never kept the doors locked—both for easy access and knowing just how they managed to wipe out the last group that lived in this mansion—so it’s not hard to slip in through the front. The halls are dark and silent, the scent of musk so strong you cover your nose with the sleeve of the hoodie. Not like smoke is much better, but still…

And that’s when you hear it: a faint chuckle, deep and raspy, at the very end of the hall. The slightest flicker of blue coming to life among the shadows.

You swallow once, stilling your trembling fingers in the pockets of the hoodie, and start to walk forward.

He’s standing there in the middle of the living room (at least that’s what Toga calls it; it only has a couch and a few dressers for decorations, mostly the knives she likes to keep on display for the rest of you to see). Your jaw drops at the sight of marred skin, a deep purple shade stretching across the length of his back, over his arms and down to his hipbones. He grunts as he presses down hard on one of the staples in his wrist, locking it back into place with a sigh.

You gasp, but he doesn’t turn around at the sound. Instead he rolls his shoulders back, cocks his head as he focuses on another staple splitting his skin apart.

“Dabi.” Your voice is a whisper, too quiet for him to hear. Or maybe he’s just ignoring me. You clear your throat and try again: “Dabi, you’re hurt. I can—”

He says your name then, and your blood turns to ice in your veins. He heaves a sigh as he tugs out a rusted staple from his wrist, flicking it to the ground before reaching for a fresh one on the dresser closest to him.

“I told you to stay away. So go home.”

Your breath catches in your throat; your heartbeat echoes in your ears. The black hoodie suddenly feels too snug around your neck as you glare at him, at the ragged skin his flames have left behind.

“You’re not serious. Two weeks—no, three weeks of complete radio silence, and that’s all you have to say to me?” It’s getting harder to stare at him when your eyesight’s getting all blurry. You brush your eyes with the sleeve of the hoodie, but that just makes you feel even worse. Damn smoke.

He doesn’t answer, only winces as another new staple buries itself into the skin of his wrist. You take a step forward, ready to clean the blood off his back or smack him upside the head, you’re not sure which one just yet.

But then he’s staring at you from over his shoulder, and all you can see are the patches beneath his eyes, the fresh burns stretching past the silver staples in his cheeks.

“Why are you here?” he asks, and you shiver at the forlorn look in those beautiful blue eyes. “You’re supposed to be home by now, it’s getting late. Leave already.”

“No.” The words pour out of you so fast you barely register what you’re saying. “Not again. I’m not leaving after you—” You swallow the lump in your throat, well aware of those eyes on you. “…After seeing that video—I couldn’t even…”

Fuck, it seems so long ago. Nearly a month of silence from Dabi, of sitting in your apartment wondering if you should leave the window unlocked for him even though he hates it, of checking your phone for any messages from unknown numbers, of constantly wondering if there was anything you could’ve said or done to keep him from walking out that night—

To staring at the little TV in your living room, a broken mug lying at your feet, your second cup of coffee soaking through the carpet. To feeling the tears well up in your eyes as you saw him, burn scars and all, revealing the truth about himself and the family he’d come from.

“Touya.”

It used to be your little secret. Something he mumbled into your hair as you patched him up one night, assuring him and yourself that he wouldn’t die. Something you’d panted into his mouth as he pressed you into the mattress in your bedroom, curling his fingers around your own. Something he’d trusted you with.

And now everyone knows about it; his family, his story, his name. Everyone knows and he can’t take it back.

But a part of you thinks he doesn’t want to take it back. That wild look in his eye, that gleeful smile that nearly rips his staples apart. The world is in shambles because of him and he fucking loves it.

“Touya,” you try again, “let me help you. You…you need to be cleaned up, I can take care of you…”

He makes no move to run as you step closer, hands barely brushing his ragged arms. Tears are spilling down your cheeks, mirroring the trickles of blood sliding down his chest. You can remember burning your hand on the stove so many years ago, even when your mother warned you to be careful. You had whined about the pain until she wrapped it up and gave you a kiss, chiding you for acting like such a child.

You can’t imagine being burned like this—your body being eaten by your own flames—the thought makes your stomach roll into itself.

“C’mon.” You pull him closer to the dresser, grimacing at the tray of fresh staples in front of you (as well as its bloodied twin). A familiar dance for the two of you. “I got you.”

You’re safe with me.

He’s silent as you clean out his wrists, leaving bloody tissues all across the dresser and floor, wincing at every bit of silver biting into his skin. Open, close, open, close. He doesn’t complain, not even once as you try your best to stitch him up. You keep your mouth shut, even though your tongue is burning with all the things you want to say. Too scared that even the slightest bit of noise will chase him off again, and you’ll be left at square one once more.

When the blood is cleaned off and the staples are secured, you steal a glance at the palm of his hand. Cringing as the rough purple skin stretches all the way up to his fingers. Can he still feel anything? Or are his nerves shot for good?

The thought makes your stomach churn. Without thinking you lean into his palm, splaying his fingers across your cheek.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sor—”

“For what?”

His voice is rough, and when he pulls his hand away you want to burst into tears. He gives your head a messy pat, mussing up your hair before walking to the other end of the room.

“You got nothin’ to feel sorry for, doll. So don’t go saying shit that’s not true.”

Your tongue feels heavy against my lips. “W-what?”

“You patched me up, I won’t bleed out. So you can go already.” He sprawls himself across that ratty old couch, legs hanging off the arm as he drapes a hand across his forehead. “Leave.”

“But… I don’t want to…”

Suddenly you feel like a child again, clinging to your parents and begging them for just five more minutes of fun before bedtime. There’s a horrible nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach, laughing at you, taunting you for how stupid you are.

He doesn’t want you here. Just get out of here before you make things worse.

But you know that if you walk out that door right now, you may never see this man in the flesh ever again.

You can’t let him get away. Not again—not ever.

“I’m staying.” Dabi’s eyes are practically glowing in the dark, watching your every move as you cross the room to follow him. “You don’t get to tell me that after all this time. So I’m staying, whether you like it or not. So stop trying to get me to leave!”

The chuckle he gives sends a chill down your spine. He leans further into the couch and rests his arm against his forehead.

“Everyone leaves sooner or later, dollface.”

Oh.

That’s where his mind is at right now.

He likes to put up a front. Likes to hide behind sarcastic comments and unimpressed looks. Shows off his power any chance he gets just to remind everyone how strong he is, how easily he could incinerate everyone with a single flick of his hand.

But you can still see the little boy with white hair, begging for his father’s approval, masking his sadness with a smile.

“…Well, I’m not planning on leaving anytime soon.” You flump down on the floor with a huff, back pressing into the worn out couch, legs sprawled out in front of you. “So get used to having me around.”

He doesn’t seem happy, but at least he’s not trying to get you to leave anymore. For now, at least.

The two of you bask in the silence of the shadowy room, neither one acknowledging the other. You pull your knees up to your chest and keep your eyes forward, staring at the sliver of moonlight that seeps through the single window ahead, as Dabi’s soft breathing lulls you into a semi-relaxed state.

There are so many things you want to tell him, to ask him, to scream at him. Why didn’t you come home after that night? What did I do wrong to make you stay away? Why do you insist on pushing me away when you know all I want to do is help you?

It’s still so raw, the memory of his last night in your apartment. Early February—just two days shy of Valentine’s Day, the prick—at close to three in the morning. One minute you were sleeping soundly in your bed with his arms wrapped around your waist; the next you were begging him not to leave, fat tears streaming down your cheeks.

Demanding to know why he decided to leave after all this time, after so many months of bliss. Recalling the promise you’d made to him on his birthday in this very house, in the old room he’d claimed for himself. And when that didn’t work you started throwing things—pillows, clothes, his stupid pack of cigarettes—anything you could get your hands on. Anything to get him to stay, even for just one more night.

But he’d pulled on his shirt and walked out the door—the first time he’d ever used the door instead of the window. He left you there in the living room, tearing at your hair as your chest wracked with sobs.

I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I fucking—

“Still have that shitty hoodie, huh?”

His voice is raspy when he speaks, a low sound that snaps your head from your arms. You try not to look at him as you nod, hugging your knees closer to your chest. A whiff of smoke crosses your nose when you tug the collar of the hoodie over your mouth, as though it were a scarf.

“Looks good on you, doll.” Dabi gives a breathless laugh, and it’s hard not to turn your head to look at him. Of all the things he could talk to you about, he chooses that?

Maybe it’s just his way of appeasing you, as though you’ll forget the last few weeks ever happened.

“Better on you than me; I always hated wearing it. Too stuffy and hot. It always got—”

“Caught on your staples, I know.” The words are already falling from your mouth; no matter how hard you grip your arms or bite your tongue, they just keep on coming. “That’s why you don’t like to wear sweaters, they make you itch and you overheat way too fast.”

Silence—for a moment you wonder if you’ve said the wrong thing. You swallow hard and twist your head, nails biting into the sleeves of the hoodie. His arm is over his eyes, but you can still see the slight quiver in his jaw when you start talking.

“I know you can’t stand being in a car for more than ten minutes, or else you’ll start to feel sick. I know you like to drink but not too much, because you hate the way it makes you feel like you’re losing control of your body. You hate the way your head starts swimming and you have to lay down with a rag on your head. I know you prefer Camels but you can’t always find them, and that’s why I keep a stash of them on the kitchen counter, in case you end up running out.”

Your hands are clenched into fists now, your heart leaping in your throat with every word you say. You have no idea if he’s even listening, or if he’s fallen asleep from exhaustion or boredom. But there’s no stopping the words from spilling out, your tongue burning with every syllable, every breath you suck in just to calm your racing heart.

“You like sleeping on your left side rather than your right because you think it helps you fall asleep faster—and it doesn’t hurt as much, the worst of your scars are on your right side. You’re a fan of that special cherry-scented shampoo in my bathroom, the one you always use whenever you beg me to bathe with you. You still have that stupid keychain I got for you last Christmas, the one that splits into two halves of a heart. And don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you leave out some food for the stray cats in the alley behind my apartment—because I know it’s you. Only you could leave a tray of cat food smelling like an ashtray, dummy.”

That was quite a sight to wake up to: a ragtag group of kittens right below your kitchen window, lapping up food from a little silver tin—something that had definitely not been there the night before. And while the whole alleyway smelled of smoke and ash, there wasn’t a single cigarette stub to be found on the pavement. Too worried one of the cats might decide to chew on them, probably. As much as he tried to downplay it, Dabi did have a soft spot for animals. He had a heart of his own, somewhere in that scarred, ragged chest of his.

Which is why this whole situation hurts you so much. You know he cares about whatever kind of bond the two of you have. You know he’s so much more than what he claims to be. You know that deep down inside him, he’s still the boy with the bright blue eyes—Touya Todoroki, the boy who dreamed of becoming a hero one day.

I know you, so let me in. I’ll still be by your side, no matter what you do.

“And I know that I could never leave you when you’re in pain like this, even if you tell me to.” It’s hard to keep your voice soft, but you try your best anyway. Anything for him. “Even if you scream at me and try to scare me, I’ll never leave you. Not now, and not ever. So please, just…”—suddenly there’s a lump in your throat, your eyes growing blurry at the edges—“…let me help you.”

He could scoff and brush you off. He could glare and demand for you to get out. He could crush you so easily, referring to the last actual conversation you had, where he claimed you were nothing more than a way for him to blow off some steam. He could incinerate this entire mansion, taking you down with it—and quite possibly himself. But no matter what happens, or what he may do, you have to stand your ground. You made a promise not only to him, but to yourself as well. To keep the two of you safe, even if the entire world stood against you. To love him until you took your dying breath, and to trust in him to do the same for you.

I don’t care what you’ve done or who you are, or even what you plan to do. No matter what happens, I will always have a special place in my heart for you.

Those were the exact words you’d said to him on his birthday, in this very mansion. And you still meant every single one of them, as if you’d said them just moments ago.

“…C’mere.”

Your mouth falls open when he finally moves his arm away from his face, only to drum his fingers against his bare chest. Those blue eyes are unnaturally bright, beckoning you closer—as though he’s the devil you’ve been warned to stay away from your entire life.

It’s a bit awkward at first, stumbling off the floor and crawling up the length of his body. But there’s no word of protest, no sign of discomfort as you throw one leg over his waist, settling down on his hips as gently as you can. Suddenly those scarred palms are stretching out to you, and you lean in to press a line of kisses across the fresh purple marks.

“Stubborn little shit.” The words are harsh but there’s no bite to them—only a soft glint in those beautiful eyes of his. “It’s too late for you to head back home already, isn’t it?”

You give him a shrug, dragging your mouth to the inner part of his wrist. “I guess so. Like hell am I leaving you here all alone with those injuries.”

You both know he’s lived through worse, a few misplaced staples aren’t going to kill him overnight. But you’ll take any excuse you can get to stay with him, even for just a bit longer.

He hums at that, leaning his head against the arm of the couch. His fingers are warm against your skin, brushing across your forehead as he sweeps a few stray pieces of hair off to the side. When he’s done you take ahold of his wrist again, pressing a few kisses against the fresh staples in his palm, as soft as you can manage. That gets a laugh from him—short and breathless, but a laugh nonetheless.

“Never know when to quit, do you? You keep chasin’ after me, even when I tell you not to. I thought you had a brain in that pretty little head of yours, doll.”

“I do, and I could’ve easily let you bleed out from your wounds.” You run your hands across the staples on his chest, down his abdomen before working your way back up his arms. “But I didn’t, because I’m just that kind of person.”

“Hm, a good girl who’s got a soft spot for a dangerous villain?”

“You’re not a villain,” you tell him, even though you both know that’s a blatant lie. “And I don’t have just a soft spot for you. I…”

One minute the words are there on your tongue—and the next your lips are pressed together, too afraid to speak as those burning blue eyes bleed into your own.

I love you. That’s all you have to say; three simple words, and your fate is sealed.

So…why are they so fucking hard to say out loud?

You do love him. You love him so much your chest aches whenever you look at him. It hurts whenever you know he’s putting himself in danger, risking his life to destroy what made him this way in the first place. He tries to hide it with a cocky smirk and a few flirtatious comments, but you know him better than that. This is the same man who huddles deep under the blankets of your bed with you, even though he claims they’re too scratchy against his skin. The same man who rests his head in your lap and lets you play with his hair, who will sometimes ask about whatever book you’re currently reading at the moment. The same man you’ve caught, on at least two separate occasions, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, hunched over the running sink, a thin trail of blood trickling from the staples embedded beneath his eyes. The same man who doesn’t even protest as you wrap your arms around him and lead him back to bed, reminding him of just how much he’s needed—how much you need him—with gentle kisses and soft-spoken words.

You love him—everything he was, everything he is, and everything he will be.

He reaches up and presses his thumb and forefinger into your chin, bringing your face down to his. Apparently you’re taking too long to respond.

“Listen to me, doll.” A shiver sweeps down your spine at the familiar pet name. “Are you really willing to sign your life away for a piece of shit like me?”

There he goes again, degrading himself and his worth. Sometimes you wish you could meet the man who did this to him. Stare his father straight in the eye and demand to know what prompted him to treat his own son this way. As though if he wasn’t the epitome of perfection, he was just a worthless waste of space.

“We’ve been over this, Touya.” You can see the twitch of his jaw at his name, his real name spilling from your lips. “You are not a piece of shit. And I wouldn’t be signing anything away; I knew damn well what I was getting myself into when I let you kiss me for the first time.”

A memory from so long ago, of drunken laughter and his heavy coat draped over your shoulders—and your incessant whining that the sleeves weren’t long enough to keep you warm. He had rolled his eyes and shut you up with a kiss, before scooting over to sit behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. Claiming that he would keep you warm instead, while you’d been too stunned to speak. Too preoccupied with the taste of his lips—of booze and smoke…and of the slightest scent of cedarwood.

“You’re a pain in my ass and you always know what to say to push my buttons, and I’m still pissed at you for leaving that night—and not coming to visit afterwards. You’re an asshole, no way around it.”

You can feel the tension slipping from your shoulders, the cloud of frustration finally easing from your mind as you reach down to take his face in your hands. Palms pressed against his ragged skin, thumbs grazing the staples below his eyes, savoring the way his lips part at your touch, the way his eyelids flutter as you lean in close. His fingers are burning against your waist, but you trust him not to burn you to ash. You still trust him, even though he’s given you every reason not to.

“But you’re mine. My pain in the neck, my villain, whatever you want to call yourself. My Dabi, my Touya—it doesn’t matter to me, as long as I get to have you.”

It’s the closest you can get to those three damn words without bursting into tears. But he seems to understand, because suddenly he’s twisting his hands into your hair and yanking you down for a searing kiss.

You can remember the first time he kissed you, how you knew you would never get tired of feeling his mouth on your own, or tasting his lips, or seeing the smug look on his face as he pulled himself away, just to see you breathless and begging for more. It’s still the same now, more or less, but with an underlying heat between your bodies. An undeniable wave of desire, crashing over your heads until the only thing you can see, touch, taste, is each other.

A groan slips through his mouth as he tugs you up the length of his body, mismatched lips finding their way to the familiar pulse point in your neck. He’s quick with his work, sucking a fresh bruise just below your jaw, where he knows his hoodie won’t be able to reach. It’s hard not to whine as he works his way down your neck, nipping and sucking as you bury your face and fingers into his soft white hair.

Fuck, you’ve missed this. How long has it been since he’s held you against his body like this, drawing out this wild side, this primal need for him, that only he can hope to tame?

Too long—too fucking long.

“D-Dabi,” you’re panting against his hair, moaning as he ruts his hips up into yours. “…It’s too dark in here—n-need to see you—”

He’s sitting up in a flash, one arm coiled around your waist with his other stretched out behind him. A gentle stream of flame erupts from his palm, illuminating his eyes before settling into the fireplace beside the couch. A thin trail of smoke rises from his wrist, reminding you of all the cigarettes he would smoke out on your balcony in the dead of night.

“Better, doll?”

“Better,” you whisper, and he smirks before pressing his mouth to yours once more.

For a moment, you forget about everything that’s led you up to this point. For a moment there’s no war between heroes and villains, no innocent civilians caught in the crossfire, no heartbroken memories or damning videos. There’s just the two of you within these four walls, all alone for the first time in almost a month.

And fuck if you’re not going to take advantage of every single second you can.

You push down on his chest, mindful of the scars and staples, and he falls back against the arm of the couch with a grunt. That lopsided smirk, the mischievous glint in his eye—he looks way too pleased with himself, a surefire warning to be on guard. He can be dangerously unpredictable in bed, more so after a mission or a fight with some heroes. All that adrenaline pumping through his veins gives him an extra edge, one he’s all too willing to exploit when he’s tangled up with you.

“Let’s get this off,” he mumbles, lifting the hem of your hoodie, his hoodie over your stomach.

“I’ll be cold,” you whine, but you still let him slip it over your head.

“Don’t worry, doll.” He tosses it to the floor, his mismatched lips grazing the shell of your ear. “I’ll be sure to keep you warm.”

Your shirt follows not too long after, and then he’s kissing his way across your chest, needy fingers already fumbling with the clasp of your bra. You roll your eyes and bat his hands away, and it’s hard not to giggle at the unimpressed look on his face. As though you had the sheer audacity to deny him of what’s rightfully his.

“Your turn, dummy. I’m not gonna be the only one who gets stripped down tonight.”

“Aww, this isn’t enough for you?” He motions to his bare chest with a wave of his hand, looking even more offended when you shake your head at him.

“No, not yet.” He groans when you shift a bit lower in your place against his hips, thumbing the silver button of his pants, licking your lips at the thin trail of white hair that disappears below the waistband. “I wanna see even more of you.”

“Then you better work for it,” he growls, but the feral look in his eye and the way his lip curls over his teeth tells you he wants this just as much as you do. He nestles into the arm of the couch, hands resting behind his head, as he gives an experimental buck of his hips—one that makes you gasp and your face flush with heat.

“You want it that badly, doll? Then show me what you’re made of.”

“Oh I plan to, Touya.”

You crush your mouth against his own, fumbling with that tiny silver button, sighing into his mouth when you finally manage to unclasp it. Your fingers dip down beneath the waistband, down the fabric of his boxers and over the slick patch of skin beneath. He’s so hot, literal flames coursing through his veins with every breath he takes. So dangerous, so lethal.

But you’ve never been scared of him, and you don’t plan on starting now.

He sucks in a sharp breath as he lifts his hips slightly, allowing you to slip his pants down to his thighs. But when you drag them down to his knees his hand suddenly curls around your wrist, freezing you in place.

His eyes are wide, his mouth agape, his fingers trembling against my skin.

“Doll…”

It’s not a warning, rather a plea. And it makes your heart ache in your chest all over again.

He’s always kept some of his clothes on during sex, even if they irritate his skin. Usually it’s enough for him to lower his pants just enough to free himself, especially if you’re in a well-lit room. Unless you’re in complete and total darkness, he refuses to strip down completely when he’s with you.

Part of you thinks he’s ashamed of the scars. You know exactly how much of his body they cover, from his face, down his chest, and over his legs. But you’ve never shied away from them, even when they’re still fresh and steaming. They’re just a part of him, the same as his eyes or his hair or that sharp tongue he likes to flaunt around. Another bit of Dabi you’ve grown to admire and love.

“Let me see,” you whisper, kissing the healthy swath of skin on his cheek. “You’re beautiful, Touya, and I want to see all of you.”

Touya, Touya, Touya. How many times has that name crossed your lips? How many nights had he drawn it out of you, breathless and soft as you squirmed beneath his body? How many times did you whisper it into your pillow, tears staining your lashes, as your last night replayed itself over and over again in your head?

Such a lovely name, and you’re still so proud of him for trusting you with it.

“Because you’re mine, right?” His fingers slowly unravel themselves from your wrist. Slowly, but surely. “You’re mine, as much as I’m yours… If you’ll have me, that is,” you add with a nervous giggle.

You’ve been so caught up in wanting to prove to him that you want him, that you never stopped to check if he wants you in the same way. I guess that’s what I get for being so eager.

He scoffs, tangling his fingers in your hair once more. “Fuck, you know I want you, dollface.”

Your chest swells with pride—and something else you’re not quite ready to put a label on just yet.

“I’m glad to hear that. Now lift your hips, I wanna see you.”

There’s a rustle of fabric, the sting of staples as he kicks his heavy boots and pants off and onto the dusty floor. Large patches stretch along his legs, marred skin mixed with healthy flesh, rusty staples and crude stitching piecing him all together. It’s a sight that makes your chest ache, one that would’ve made your stomach roll at one point or another. Just another reason for you to despise the bastard who did this to him.

His kisses are light against your lips, a stark contrast to the harsh rut of his hips beneath you. Trace every bit of skin and staples you can find with your fingers, ragged and smooth, until it blends together beneath your palms. Until the only thing you can feel is Dabi.

He manages to slip your pants down over your ass, letting you lean on him just enough to slide out of them and toss them on the floor. That gets a chuckle out of both of you; it’s not exactly easy to undress while simultaneously trying not to fall off this old fucking couch. For a brief moment you wonder if you should move upstairs to an actual bed, but that thought quickly turns to dust when he dips a finger into your panties, and you realize you can’t fucking wait any longer.

“Oh? So fucking wet already, aren’t you?”

He smirks against your mouth, dragging a couple of fingers across the slick patch of skin. You gasp and roll your hips, and he seems to gain some of his confidence back—you can feel it in the way he touches you, his fingers teasing your soaked slit.

“Tell me, did you just get this wet for me now, or did you walk in here already dripping like a bitch in heat?”

A shudder courses through your veins, nails finding purchase in his scarred shoulders. Not too rough, you don’t want him to start bleeding again, not so—

“Answer me.”

You’re squirming in his lap as he spreads your folds apart, his thumb barely ghosting over your clit. But when you try to squeeze your thighs together he tightens his grip and slaps your ass hard.

“J-just now,” you manage to choke out between gasps, “…I-I swear—”

“Hm, my pretty doll,” he whispers, and his fingers curl around your chin to pull you closer, “for some reason, I don’t fucking believe you.”

He’s pulling away all too soon, smirking when a whine slips past your mouth. He shifts himself lower on the couch, his head resting on the cushion rather than the arm. He licks his lips, brings his hand to his face—the same one he just had buried between your thighs—and taps his mouth with the tip of his finger.

“C’mon, doll. Sit on my face like a good girl.”

It’s almost laughable how fast you’re tearing your panties off, absolutely pathetic how easily you submit to his will. It’s been too long since you’ve had a night like this, a night where the only two people in the world are you and him.

He groans when you settle yourself over his face, nails digging into the ratty arm of the sofa, shivering at the touch of his hands on your waist. His palms are warm—too warm to be natural. And sure enough you can see a wisp of blue emitting from his palm, before he tugs your entire weight down to sit on his face.

“Dabi, wait—”

Your breath catches at the first brush of his tongue, that familiar piercing he has right on the tip—shit, he knows just how that drives me crazy—

“Y-you’re staples!” Another gasp as he holds you in place, his palms heating up ever so slightly against your outer thighs. “Just d-don’t rip them out—ah—be c-careful!”

“’S fine,” he mumbles, pulling himself away just enough to lick at his wet lips, “I know you’ll just patch me up again if I tear them out.”

You don’t even have time to argue before he’s forcing you down on his face again, lapping at your pussy like a starved man. It’s all so exhilarating—the heat of his hands, the slight pinch of the staples in his jaw, the way his tongue slides against your folds in every way imaginable—

Suddenly his lips find their way around your clit, sucking hard and fast—and you sink your nails into the white roots of his hair.

“Dabi!”

You’re grinding yourself on his face now, gasping as each thrust brings you right against his tongue, his nose bumping against your burning clit. His eyes are glowing beneath your body, matching the shade of the flames in the fireplace, casting a warm glow over the two of you. So warm, so comforting, so powerful—and absolutely feral.

He slips his tongue inside, tightens his grip on your thighs as he rocks you back and forth on his face. Your palms are slick with sweat, grabbing fistfuls of his hair as you scream out his name at the top of your lungs. So loud you’re surprised any heroes that may be nearby don’t start breaking down the doors and crashing through the windows. Though you have no doubt in your mind Dabi would refuse to stop at this point, no matter what could be lurking beyond these walls.

“Dabi, Dabi, Dabi…” His eyes flicker up to yours, his eyebrow quirked and his nose pressing against your clit. “I—ngh—I can’t take it—please, let me come—”

Like he needs to be told twice.

His nails sink into the flesh of your thighs—part of you is already wondering if you’ll still have bruises by tomorrow morning—and he starts thrusting your hips against his tongue at a rapid pace. You try your best to keep up and rock yourself against him but he’s just too fast. Never mind the strain on your muscles, the coil in your stomach that’s growing tighter and tighter with every buck of your hips. You might as well be a toy at this point, boneless and pretty, made for his pleasure rather than your own.

A doll. His doll.

And suddenly you’re bursting at the seams, the corners of your eyes sparkling with stars, the coil in your stomach finally snapping apart. Dabi’s all too eager to lap up your release, his tongue making you shiver as you gush all over his face.

“Such a good girl,” his voice is raspy as he finally lifts you off of him, circling his hands over the fresh marks on your thighs.

Your sight’s a little hazy, but you can still make out a few split staples on each side of his mouth, ripped apart between burned and healthy skin. But he’s on you before you can say a word, hoisting you into his arms and pulling you against his chest, with your legs wrapped around his waist. He presses his mouth to yours, dragging his tongue across your own, smirking when you gasp at the taste of yourself on his lips.

“Still taste so fucking good, dollface.” Suddenly he’s pushing his hands on your chest, caging you against the cushions of the couch, his elbows on either side of your head. “I think you’re ready for my fingers now. You think so?”

You’re nodding as hard as you can, nearly clunking your foreheads together, and he lets out one of those rare laughs you’ve come to love so much.

“Need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, yes—fuck, I’m ready!”

This is Dabi in his element: painfully patient, well aware of the power he holds over your body, and relishing every single second of it.

He hums in delight, slipping a finger beneath the strap of your bra, resting against your shoulder. “Take this off for me—unless you want it turned to ash.”

You’re certain the clasp snaps apart with how fast you rip it off, tossing it over the arm of the couch. He smirks again as he lowers his head, pressing a kiss to your breast. A stark contrast to the primal way he was handling you earlier, but it makes you whine all the same.

He’s slow with his movements now, kneading your breasts together, pressing a line of kisses down your chest, dragging his tongue against the pulse point in your neck. He’s so soft and gentle you can feel your eyes fluttering shut, the exhaustion from your orgasm finally catching up to me.

“Dabi,” your voice is soft against his temple, “Dabi, I—ah!”

He slides a finger inside, smirking down as he brushes his mouth against your forehead.

“Eyes on me, doll. Don’t want you dozing off on me just yet, now do we?”

You can’t find the words to answer him as he adds another finger, curling them upward, drawing out another pathetic whine from the pit of your chest.

“We’re not even close to bein’ done for the night, so you just keep those pretty little eyes open for me, and let me do all the work. You understand?”

You start to nod but think the better of it, opting to choke out, “Y-yeah, I do…”

“Hm, so you can listen.” He starts pumping his fingers at a gentle pace, keeping his other arm beside your head on the couch. You can’t stop yourself from squirming beneath him as he curls his fingers, pressing his thumb against your swollen clit.

“D-Dabi—”

“Good girl,” he hisses against your temple, “good fuckin’ girl.”

He’s achingly slow with his thrusts, dragging his fingers against every inch of you, every bit of flesh he can reach. Your hands find their way around his shoulder blades, nails cutting into the scarred skin as he presses down hard on your clit. You’re squealing against his mouth now, dragging your hands down the ragged skin, wincing when you pull away and see a faint shadow of red beneath your nails.

“Shit, I’m so s-sorry,” the bastard’s still pumping his fingers into you, “I-I didn’t mean to m-make you bleed—”

But he’s quick to shush you, his other hand hovering over your neck. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, pretty girl, it’s not important.”

Like hell it is, I’m not patching you up again just because you like it rough—

“Ah, there it is.” He smirks as he brushes his fingers upward, hitting that special spot that has you whining and squirming and digging your nails even deeper into his skin. “You gonna come for me, doll? Be my good girl and squirt all over my fingers?”

Your chest is heaving, legs raised to wrap themselves around his hips, gasping out his name as he drives his fingers deeper into your body.

“Y-yes, Dabi—fuck!” You’re so close, that familiar coil winding up in the pit of your stomach, almost there, almost there—

“That’s it, come for me. Make a mess for me, doll. Come on—oh, that’s it—so fucking good for me, aren’t ya?”

You’re shuddering against his burned chest, carving your nails into his skin as the coil finally explodes. You can feel yourself clamping down hard on his fingers, legs jerking as he traces his thumb over your clit, his voice as he mumbles a slew of filthy words against your ear.

“Hey, keep your eyes open.” He taps your cheek, leaving a smear of your juices on your skin. But he’s all too eager to press his lips to it and clean you off. “Turn around, doll, get on your knees. Can you do that for me?”

Anything for you, but your tongue is too thick to get the words out. Instead you give him a nod, twisting your body around as he shuffles himself off of you. Before you know it you’re leaning against the arm of the couch, grasping at the torn fabric as he settles himself behind you. There’s a soft rustling sound as he slides his boxers down, but when you try to glance back at him his hand curls around the back of your head, keeping your head forward and hanging over the arm of the couch.

“W-wanna see you…”

“Later, pretty girl. You’ll get to see me later.”

There’s a familiar bite to his tone; not the one that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine, but the kind that makes your hands twitch and your throat burn. He’s still doubting the way he looks, even after everything you’ve done so far. Does he still not trust you enough to see all of him like you let him see all of you?

But then your mind goes blank as he leans into you, hands hot against your hips, the wet sound of slick filling your ears as he takes his cock in his hand. He thumps it against your clit, and the edge of the piercing on the tip has you trembling all over again.

“Deep breaths for me,” he mumbles, his breath hot against your nape, “deep breaths, doll…”

He pushes himself in, bit by bit, groaning when you whine his name beneath him. He’s stretching you out, so tight and warm you think you might burst, the collection of piercings adorning his cock making your eyes roll into the back of your skull. Every ridge of skin, every touch of metal and breath against your body sends you over the edge, sucking him in as he bottoms out inside you with a moan.

“Fuck, so tight…”

It’s all too much; the heat of his body against your own, the touch of his lips on your neck, and the throb of his cock deep inside you. Suddenly you’re dragging the back of your hand over your eyes, praying with everything you have that Dabi won’t see what he does to you.

It’s been so long, I didn’t think I’d have him like this again. Not after that night…

Not after what had been said. Not after he’d screamed that he wanted nothing more to do with you, that you were just a body to keep him busy in the dead of night. Not after you’d told him to get out of your apartment, to walk out of your life forever, that you would be better off without him. The words still rang in your head, echoing through those late nights in your bed, the sheets damp with sweat and the pillow stained with tears.

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it, I was only trying to hurt you. Just like you hurt me. But I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean any of it, because I—

“Still with me, doll?” You swallow hard and nod your head, keeping your eyes on the arm of the couch. His hands are surprisingly soft against your hips. “Gonna start moving, you ready?”

You close your eyes, savoring the warmth of his skin, both burned and smooth, against your own. “Of course I am. Just fuck me already.”

He’s steady at first, mindful of his size and your position on the couch. Rolling his hips into your own, massaging your hips with his scarred palms, the occasional curse slipping through his mouth. It’s been too long since you’ve found yourself in a situation like this; despite your best efforts, you haven’t been with anyone else since that last night. Every face, hand, pair of lips against your own reminds you of him.

But now you have him, after all this time, and you’ll be damned if you don’t have him at least try to make up for the month of hell he put you through.

You’re thrusting your hips against his own, relishing the groan and startled look in his eye when you gaze up at him from over your shoulder. “I said fuck me, didn’t I?” Come on, I know you can do better than that. “So don’t hold back.”

And suddenly he’s wrapping a fist around your hair, rutting his hips into yours like an animal in heat. The wet sound of his skin slapping against your own, his cock sliding in and out of you, the feral groan he lets out in the form of your name—it’s too much too soon, leaving you gasping for air over the arm of the couch.

“Little fucking slut, aren’t ya? Always so eager for my cock. Tell me,” he sneers, and you jolt when his breath clouds over the shell of your ear, “did you come all the way out here tonight hoping to get your pretty little brains fucked out?”

Not entirely—the possibility hadn’t even crossed your mind on the trek here. But that’s not what comes out of your mouth.

“M-maybe—fuck, yes!” You cry out as his palm comes down hard on your ass, your pitiful words only fueling his ego. “S-so rough…”

“Aww, doll, I thought you liked it when I’m rough with you?” Another thrust of his hips, his cock pounding against that sweet spot deep inside you. “Let me ask you, how many men did you fuck while I was gone?”

“N-none…”

“Hm? Couldn’t hear ya, doll. Speak up.”

He smacks your ass again, eliciting another scream from your throat. “None! No one else, only…only you, Dabi…”

The tears are spilling freely down your cheeks, leaving little pools on the arm of the couch. Dabi groans again as he yanks your hair back, his lips searing against the skin of your jaw.

“Say it again. Say my name.”

“Dabi, Dabi—”

“Not that one, doll.”

Your heart thrums against your ribcage, eyes wide and teary, but you can still feel a smile on your face.

“Touya!”

He’s pounding into you at a brutal pace, one hand still wrapped around your hair as his other hand slides down the length of your body, between your thighs to circle over your burning clit. You’re gasping out his name, nails biting into the arm of the sofa, bucking your hips back to meet his thrusts halfway.

A stray tear slides down your cheek; he releases his hold on your hair just to wipe it away and kiss the heated skin below.

“Touya, I-I’m so close—so fucking close—”

It’s right there within your reach, burning on the tip of your tongue, your eyes fluttering shut with every thrust he gives you.

“Don’t hold back,” he hisses as you push back against him with a whimper. He presses two fingers against your clit, rubbing them in hard, tight circles. “Wanna hear you scream, got it?”

You can only nod your head, your words slurring together as he brings you closer and closer to your peak.

“C’mon, cream all over my cock—”

“F-fuck, Touya!”

Suddenly you’re tumbling over the edge, pressing your face into the arm of the couch, clenching your thighs around his hand. A tremble courses through your body, vision flooding with white, whining out his name as he continues to circle your clit, even when you’re spent and slumped in his arms.

“That’s it, doll, such a good girl for me.” But there’s a strain in his voice, a familiar fire in his thrusts as he chases his own release. “So good, so fucking good—”

Something warm and rough closes over the back of your hand; your eyes open to see his fingers lacing through your own, pinning your hand to the arm of the couch. It’s not long before he shifts himself to grasp your other hand, caging your body against the couch, his voice raspy and his breaths short against the shell of your ear.

“Gonna come—where do you want it, doll?”

You squeeze his fingers with your own, eyes fixed on the burned skin of his arm. “I-inside… Want you inside me, Touya…”

His chest shudders against your back, face pressed against your neck as he stills his thrusts, spilling himself inside of you. He stays there for a moment, panting against your skin, still holding your hands in his scarred ones, the heat of his body giving you an entirely new sense of bliss you thought you’d lost for good.

But then he slides himself out, his cum dribbling onto the cushions below, and you can’t help but giggle when his cock brushes against your inner thigh.

“Still hard?” He scoffs and starts to pull away—but your hands are already curling around his wrists, tugging him back down to your level. “Lay down,” you manage to slur out, “wanna be on top now.”

He barks out a laugh but settles down on the couch anyway, tracing the skin of your hips with his nails.

“Sure you’re up for this, dollface?” You nod, straddling his hips for the second time tonight. “You look worn out, don’t want you falling asleep on me.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve fucked me in my sleep,” you murmur, and he only smirks at the memory. Needy asshole. “Besides, you had me the way you wanted. And now it’s my turn.”

“Oh? And in what way do you want me?” He squeezes his hands around your ass and pulls you in close. “My cock not good enough for you anymore?”

“No, it’s more than enough.” You press your hands to the planes of his chest, smiling as he sinks into the messy cushions below. “I just wanna see your eyes when I tell you how beautiful you are.”

That’s when you see it: the tiniest clench of his jaw, the glazed look in his eye that lets you know, he thinks it’s all bullshit. That he won’t believe you, no matter how many times you say it to his face.

“…I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I said I wanted all of you, didn’t I? I meant it, even your looks. Your hair, your eyes, these scars…” You lean down to kiss his neck, eliciting the softest groan from his chest. “They’re my favorite part about you.”

“Why?” The look in his eyes is so uncertain, so terrified—as if he’s still a child, begging for someone to accept him. “They’re just scars. They’re…ugly.”

“Not really. They show just how strong you are. How strong your flames are, how determined you are. No matter what’s standing in your way, you always find a way to persist. And that’s why I—”

Love you.

You clamp your mouth shut, fighting the urge to slap both hands over your face. Idiot, you’re such a fucking idiot! Now he’s staring at you with those big eyes and you’re fucking everything up and—

“That’s why I…I want every part of you.” Anti-climactic, but it eases some of the weight off your chest. “Every bit you have to offer. Scars, fears, sins—none that scares me. I want all of them, because I want you. All I care about is you, Touya.”

He’s growing increasingly uneasy, you can see it in the way his eyes dart back and forth between your own and the ceiling, the slight quiver of his hands against your waist. Words have never really been his strong suit in situations like this, so you can tell he’s having trouble coming up with a response. So before he can you lean down to kiss him again, your hands roaming all across his body.

Actions seem to speak louder than words, anyway.

A thin sheen of sweat gathers along the healthy skin of his chest, the silver staples glimmering at the corners. He’s gorgeous in this light, sprawled out beneath you on the couch, the faint hue of the fireplace flickering over his skin. Matching those beautiful eyes, so sad and lost, and the wisps of flame dancing along his fingertips.

You lower your hand down his abdomen, over his hips, and smile when he gasps when you take his cock in your hand. Hot and heavy in the palm of your hand, adorned with little silver piercings along the base and tip. You remember asking him about them when you first started your little relationship, how he smirked when you asked him if they hurt at all. At the time he’d shrugged his shoulders and pulled you into his chest, insisting that they didn’t hurt anymore, that they would feel much better inside you anyway. Even now you still can’t believe how desperate he can be just for a good fuck.

Those blue eyes are still wide, burning with that same hint of lust from earlier. As if he’s trusting you to make him feel good—to take care of him, just as he’s always done to you.

“Breathe, Touya.” It’s hard to keep the smile out of your voice as he squirms beneath you, tightens his grip around your waist. “I’ve got you.”

And I’m never letting you go ever again.

It takes a few strokes of your hand before he’s bucking himself into your palm, silently whining for you to get on with it. You spread your thighs and position yourself over his cock—but not before pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead.

I love you.

He groans out your name as you sink yourself down onto him. That familiar stretch of his cock makes your chest shudder, a moan slipping through your parted lips. Despite the mess of cum and sweat between your bodies, neither of you seems bothered all that much. What’s the point of getting upset over it when you’re just going to add to the mess later on?

“…Maybe you were right about this position, doll.” He lifts a hand and squeezes the underside of your breast, earning a pleased hum from your throat. “Gonna enjoy seeing your face when I fuck you like this.”

“As if,” you try to laugh, but it’s hard to keep your voice steady. “I’m the one who’s fucking you this time.”

“We’ll see about that.”

But before he can move you take his hands in your own, raising them up and pinning them beside his head on the arm of the couch. Smirking at the mischievous look in those hooded eyes.

“Not a chance, Touya. You’re gonna be good for me—whatever I have to offer, you’re gonna lay there and take it.”

“Oh am I, doll? Since when did you get all demanding and feisty, huh? I guess me being gone for a bit made you needier than usual, huh?”

Probably, but there’s no way in hell you’ll admit it to his face. So instead you grind your hips down onto his, and he gasps and moans out your name.

“C-can’t say I don’t like it.” His breaths are growing shorter with every thrust of your hips. “You used to be s-so shy and timid, and you still are. Sure didn’t put up a fight when I fucked your brains out earlier, now did you?”

If he’s still talking, I’m not doing a good enough job.

“N-no, you didn’t—!” He still tries to laugh even when you pick up the pace, sinking your nails into the marred skin of his wrists. “Loved every second of it, didn’t you? I know you did—always a little slut for my cock—my little slut—”

Suddenly your nails are digging into the patches on his throat, his blue eyes blown wide with lust as you lean in close, so close your nose brushes against his own.

“Shut up. Just shut up and let me fuck you.”

Let me love you.

That seems to convince him; curiosity and lust seem to win him over as he complies with your orders, keeping his hands above his head, snapping his mouth shut for good. But then he’s moaning again as you roll your hips down, and his sounds only encourage you to go faster.

You press your palms against his chest, nails cutting into the healthy flesh beneath the staples, and start bouncing yourself up and down on his cock. His hands are free for now, but he doesn’t try to take control and subdue you. Instead he’s grabbing onto your hips, ramming himself deeper inside you with every thrust.

He’s hitting that same spot deep inside you, the one that makes you see stars and scream his name out to the world. The muscles in your thighs are burning; three orgasms in and you’re still chasing after a fourth like a bitch in heat. But it’s hard to resist the urge when you have him below you like this, staring up at you with those beautiful blue eyes, whispering “good girl” and “fuck, that’s it” into the musty air around you.

“C’mon, harder. I know you can do better than that—fuck—”

Dabi, Touya—it doesn’t matter what he wants to be called, you still end up screaming both names out at the top of your lungs. So loud you want everyone to know just who can make you feel this way, who holds your heart and soul and body in his scarred hands. Because he’s worth everything to you, someone you trust with your life even if you shouldn’t. Someone you don’t have to hide yourself from, to put on a front or a fake smile for. Someone who makes your heart flutter and your palms sweaty and your chest ache, because you—

“…Love you.”

It’s out there—you can’t take it back now. Not when you’re so close; not when he’s staring up at you like that.

As though you’re the most precious thing in the world to him.

But your words don’t seem to deter him in the slightest. Instead he’s slamming you down on his cock even harder than before, swallowing your squeals as he pulls you in for another searing kiss. He’s sitting up now, arms wrapped around your waist as you bounce yourself in his lap.

“I’m sorry,” the tears are already bubbling in your eyes, “but I love you—love you so fucking much—”

“Yeah?” His voice is hoarse, as though he hasn’t used it in years. “You mean it?”

“Yes, I do! Y-you’re the only one for m-me—”

Your hands close around his shoulders, his breath burning against your neck—you can already feel the coil in your stomach, ready to snap. So close, so close—

“Almost there, doll. Ride me—give me everything you’ve got—”

You roll your hips as hard as you can, and at the first touch of his fingers against your clit you’re clenching hard around his cock. Screaming his name out as you feel every ridge and piercing move against you, inside of you as you’re gushing all over his lap.

But he’s not far behind, chasing his own release as he picks up the pace. You gather his face in your hands, running your thumbs along the lines of staples that keep his jaw secure, tasting his breath on your tongue.

And you know you should stop talking before you make everything worse, but that doesn’t stop you from pressing your mouth against his own and whispering, “Love you, Touya.”

Suddenly he’s gasping into your mouth, palms unnaturally hot against your hips—and when you give him a nod he presses his fingers deeper into your skin. A blistering sense of heat spreads throughout your body; a scream bubbles up in your throat. Touya groans out your name as he gives one final thrust, spilling himself inside you as his fingers sear their prints into the skin of your hips.

The two of you are shuddering, kissing each other furiously, blinking the sweat from your eyes. His body is already starting to overheat, a thin layer of steam rising from the stapled skin of his chest. But that doesn’t seem to be his main concern; instead he’s lowering his hands to inspect the fresh burns on your hips.

“Does it hurt?”

“Only a little,” you tell him, but he’s still kissing along the marks anyway.

It’s not the first time he’s branded you in the heat of the moment. It took him a while to agree to it, along with an incessant amount of begging on your part, and he’s still always so attentive to them whenever he does it during sex. It always baffles you how he can be so concerned and caring with taking care of the light burns he leaves on your skin, but he completely neglects his own.

“Touya, it’s fine, I’ll just clean them up in a bit. I promise I’ll be—”

But then he glances up at you, and your chest swells when you see the trails of blood leaking from the staples underneath his eyes. You try to wipe them off but he catches your wrists and tugs you close, pressing kiss after kiss against your sweaty palms.

“To—”

“Say it again.” His voice is almost pitiful, the look in his bloody eyes worse than any burn mark on your skin. “Please.”

In all the months you’ve known him, you’ve never heard the man beg. Not as Touya and definitely not as Dabi. But the hopeful look in his eyes makes you want to cry. To hold him in your arms and shield him from the rest of the world. To fight off his insecurities tooth and nail, to chase away all those horrible thoughts and memories that keep him up at night. To press a thousand kisses along his face and down his body, ending at his lips before giving him a thousand more.

You take his face in your hands and kiss his forehead. His white hair tickles your nose, still smelling of smoke and ash.

“You know I love you, Touya. When I said I wanted you, I meant it. I want everything that makes you, you; I want to see you grow and thrive and make the best out of this world we’re in. And no matter how many times you try to push me away—even if you think it’s for my own good—I won’t ever leave you alone. I promise to stay by your side, no matter what you’ve done or what you may do in the future. Because I love you, and I’ll say it as many times as I have to until you believe me.”

There’s nothing he can do, nothing he can say that will make you change your mind. He is the one you’ve decided to trust with your heart. The one you’ve grown to care about more than anyone else in the world. And you’ll keep saying it, even if he never believes you. Even if he never sees you in that same light.

He doesn’t speak a word, doesn’t even make a sound. He simply holds your body against his own, pressing his stapled cheek to your breasts. You can feel his heartbeat below the ragged skin of his chest, the vibrations lulling you into a light sleep.

B-bmp, b-bmp, b-bmp.

Finally he breaks the silence with a grunt, lifting you off his lap and sliding himself out of you. Your thighs are burning with exhaustion, not unlike the heat engraved in your hips. But Dabi’s careful as he swings his legs over the side of the couch, gathering you in his arms and wrapping your legs around his waist.

Wordlessly he carries you to the nearby bathroom, where he sets you down on the counter and washes out your burns. He reaches for the little tube of ointment in the cabinet—the same brand you have back at your apartment—and squirts a small amount on his fingers. You do your best to stay still as he slathers it over the burns, trying to be as gentle as he possibly can. And once he’s done he cleans off his hands, grabs a roll of bandages from the counter, and presses them over the marks on your hips. Definitely not the first time you’ve worn bandages like these on your body—or the first time Dabi’s been the one to apply them.

It’s not like him to go this long without saying anything. Not a single snarky comment or flirty remark, just to get a reaction out of you. It’s almost terrifying, the way he refuses to make any sound—or even talk to you.

Did I say anything wrong? Was I too forward with my little speech earlier? Is he angry at me for admitting my feelings to him?

“…Touya?” No answer. You clear your throat and try again. “Touya, are you okay? …Are you—”

“How can I be, after what you said out there?”

Oh.

Did you read the entire situation wrong? Perhaps he’s ready to leave you for good this time, making sure you can’t follow him wherever he goes?

The mere thought hurts you more than it should. Idiot, you’re such a fucking idiot, thinking he’d feel the same about you.

“…I’m sorry—”

“No don’t, don’t fucking do that…” He lets out a sigh, swiping a hand through his hair as he all but tosses the roll of bandages on the counter. “It’s not…you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

Then…why? Why are you still pushing me away when you know I love you?

And then it hits you: the problem lies within that phrase, those three simple words that crawled their way out of your mouth. Maybe he does feel the same, and he doesn’t know how to come out and say it. Or even if he should say it. Because as much as it pains you to think about, those three little words must’ve been pretty rare in his old life with his family.

Or maybe he doesn’t feel that way at all, and you’re still stuck in a perfect little fantasy, hoping it’ll all work out in the end.

You suck in a deep breath, until your chest aches from the stretch, and begin to speak.

“Touya, do you…feel the same way about me?”

He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. You clear your throat and rephrase the question.

“Do you care about me? Say no if you don’t.” He snaps his mouth shut, and the tiniest bit of pride blooms in your chest. “So then, do you…like me the same way I like you?” And suddenly you’re a child on the playground again, wondering if your crush thinks of you in the same way you think about him.

“…I…I think I do, but…”

Blood trails are streaming down his cheeks. With every word he looks more unsure of himself, more confused, as the man he’s built himself up to be begins to crumble down before your eyes. It’s hard to breathe as you watch him break down. The blood, the scars, the way his hands curl around his face—and suddenly you’re jumping off the counter, legs shaking, heart leaping in your throat, and taking him into your arms.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to say it out loud. You don’t have to give me an answer right away.”

You stretch out your fingers, the tips brushing against the staples beneath his eyes. He doesn’t flinch away, even as you wipe away the trickles of blood, and you sigh in relief. A small victory, one that gives you hope that maybe this can all work itself out.

“If you don’t wanna say anything, that’s okay. I get it, believe me. But please don’t push me away anymore. I want to be close to you, okay? To stay by your side even when you don’t want me to be. So please, just…let me stay with you…”

It’s an eternity before he moves again. He slides his hand into your hair and tugs you in, mismatched lips finding their way to your forehead. You lean up to kiss his split jaw, giggling softly when he brushes his nose against your own. And for a moment, it seems like everything’s going to be okay.

You’ll be alright. You can wait for him, as long as he needs you to.

It takes some convincing (and a few heated kisses) for him to let you clean out his wounds for real and reapply his staples. The bastard’s jaw is barely hanging on at this point, a look he wears like a badge of honor. He doesn’t even wince as you snap a batch of fresh staples into his cheeks.

“Why the long face, doll?” You roll your eyes and drop another bloody staple into the tray on the counter. “You know damn well this isn’t the first time you’ve done this.”

“And it’ll be the last if you keep running your mouth like that.”

“Not if I can help it—”

“Touya.” There’s a warning in your voice but he only laughs it off.

“Touya,” he mocks in a high pitched voice, “let me come! Touya, please don’t rip your staples out! Touya, please fuck me, I need you inside me!”

“Touya!” Louder this time, but he only laughs harder.

“Yeah that’s it, doll. Sure weren’t complaining earlier, when you had my tongue inside your—”

You slap his chest as hard as you can without damaging the staples. It seems to shut him up long enough for you to finish patching him up, but he’s still wearing that fucking smirk that makes you weak in the knees.

At least he’s eased up for now. As much as you adore him, it’s not easy seeing him act all unsure of himself. As though he has to hide who he really is from you.

When the blood’s finally cleared off and his scars are treated, he takes a fresh cloth from the cabinet and soaks it under the sink. He runs it along your thighs, wiping away any traces of his cum. After he’s finished you rinse the cloth with warm water and press it along his sweaty chest. Careful the fabric doesn’t get caught on the staples lined across his skin.

Once the two of you are cleaned off, he scoops you up in his arms with your legs wrapped around his hips, and he leads you back into the room with the fireplace. You’ll have to wait until you get back to your place for a proper shower; unfortunately this old mansion doesn’t have much to offer when it comes to running water. But judging by the way Touya’s carrying you, with his arms tight around your waist, you’re starting to think he’s not ready to leave this mansion just yet.

He cleans off the messy cushions—which consists of him wiping them down with a wad of tissues before flipping them over—and plops himself down right in the center. He pulls on his pants and slips on his boots, before tossing you that old hoodie of his that still smells like smoke. You pull it over your head, mindful of the bandages on your hips, and try not to think of how dangerously low his pants are resting on his hips.

He reclines back against the arm, kicking his legs up and pulling you down on his chest once more. You’re straddling his hips again, wearing nothing but his old hoodie, your face pressed against his scarred chest.

“…Wish I had a cigarette right now.”

You stifle a laugh, reach into the pocket of the hoodie, and hold out a little white package to him. His eyes go wide for a moment, before he tugs it from your grasp and gives you one of those all-knowing smirks.

“Aww, how did you know? And these are my favorite, doll.”

You shrug and snuggle deeper into his chest. “Thought you’d want one or two so I brought ‘em with me.”

He slips the little stick between his lips and wiggles his eyebrows. “So that’s why you came here—I was right after all, huh?”

“As if, fuckin’ pervert. It’s not my fault you only wanna smoke after sex.”

He lets out a chuckle, lifting a blue-tipped finger to the end of the stick. Your eyes follow the tiny flame, the gorgeous hue of its sparks, the gentle wisps that coil into the air, before it vanishes with a quick wave of his hand.

A comfortable silence stretches over the two of you. Your gaze wanders up to the window above, revealing the pale half-moon behind the dark clouds. You wonder what time it is… But then you realize it doesn’t matter and press your face against the ragged skin of his neck. It’s just you and him for now, nothing else matters right now. The whole world could burn to ashes and you wouldn’t care—because you have the man you love wrapped up in your arms.

“Tell me,” he finally rasps, stubbing out his cigarette with his thumb. A blue wisp of flame engulfs the little stick, and seconds later he’s dusting the ash off his hand and onto the floor below. “Did you mean it? What you said earlier?”

Oh, I guess we’re back to this.

You lean up against his chest, chin propped up on your palm, to find him staring up at the dirty ceiling above. His fingers drum along the small of your back, the heel of his boot thumping against the arm at a gentle rhythm. He doesn’t meet your eyes, even when you start to speak.

“You know I meant it. Every single word. I promise. I’m not gonna leave you alone, no matter how much you push me away. And I’ll keep saying it until I’m blue in the face, you got it?”

When he still doesn’t look at you, you reach up and brush the backs of your fingers over the line of staples in his cheek. He lets out a sigh before catching your hand in his own and bringing it up to his face. And it’s hard to ignore the ache in your chest when he kisses your fingers and knuckles, one by one, before stopping right at the center of your palm.

Suddenly those blue eyes are burning right through you, and the whole world seems to vanish around you.

“Stay with me.”

You nod at once. “I will.”

“Say you love me.”

“I love you—so fucking much—I love you, I love you…”

I love you.

He’s kissing you now, mismatched lips tracing over your cheek, your jaw, your neck, anywhere they can possibly reach. You twist your fingers into his hair and hold him close to your chest.

Nothing else matters. It’s just the two of you in this little mansion in the middle of the forest, the only ones who matter in this world. No heroes, no villains, no secrets, no lies. Just you and Touya, and for now that’s all you need.

Even if he never says those three simple words back to you.

“Touya—” But then he’s kissing you again, and you’re giggling uncontrollably against his mouth.

I’ve got you. I’ll stay with you for as long as you’ll have me. I’ll keep you safe, I’ll patch up your wounds, and I’ll—

“Hey, stop! That tickles!” But he keeps on nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “Touya, come on, you’re—”

That’s when you feel it, hard and insistent, pressing against your inner thigh. He only smirks and licks his lips.

“You’re insatiable, you know that?”

“Mm, I’ve been called worse, doll.” He slides a hand down to your hips, caressing the bandages, the burn marks seared into your skin. “Promise I’ll be gentle.” He kisses you again, slowly this time, as he trails his hand down just a bit lower.

It’s not perfect, the relationship you have (if it can even be called that). There’s tears, blood, burns, nightmares, and you know it’ll only get worse from here on out. What Touya’s decided to do with his life, and how he plans to leave his mark on the world—it still leaves your stomach rolling and your throat burning with tears. But beneath all the words and scars and flames, you know he’s hurting inside. And you’ll be damned if you let him suffer through this ordeal all alone.

You’re in love with him—everything that makes him the man he is. No matter how much he’s hurting, how often he thinks of himself as a failure. You’re determined to give him everything you have, in hopes one day he’ll do the same for you. To wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his chest and press a thousand kisses against his skin. To let him know he doesn’t have to be alone anymore.

That you’re here for him; that you’ll stay with him, no matter what may happen in the future.

So that’s why you only laugh as he lays you back down across his chest, his fingers weaving through your hair, careful not to get any of it caught on the staples of his palms. There’ll be another time for conversations like those. For now you can lose yourselves in each other, hand in hand, with the warm glow of the blue flames casting over you.

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #touya todoroki x y/n #mha x reader #mha x you #mha x y/n #dabi #touya todoroki #dabi smut #touya todoroki smut #mha fics #smut #sweets and treats

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a2zillustration · 5 months

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Hello! I just HAD to come on here and say how much I LOVE your art and Croissant, they're my newest obsession!! It's 4 am right now and I still have work in a few hours but I've been binging your Croissant comics and I'm literally IN LOVE 🥹❤️❤️❤️

They're so lovely and chaotic, and I've been a bit stressed lately but I'm SO happy I stumbled upon your magnificent comics and I've literally been trying to stifle my laughter from reading them cuz it's late 😂

And the way you show Croissant's interactions with the companions? Absolutely IMMACULATE!!! I really love Croissant's character design and their personality, they really shine 🥺💕 Plus you capture the companions and their dynamic with Croissant SO well, Croissant has actually become one of my fave Tavs ever and I just wanna give 'em a big hug!! Also, one of my faves in your comic is the one about Lenore where Croissant gets hugged. That was so sweet and I honestly got quite emotional when you drew the close-up for Croissant's teary eyes 😭

Thank you SO much for sharing your wonderful talent and comics 🥰 Also, you're such an amazing person!!!

Thank-

Thank you???? This is so incredibly kind of you to say, I'm glad that you've been enjoying Croissant's adventures so much!

#hang on let me blather on in the tags - seriously I can't get over this #I'm saving it to read any time I'm feeling bummed out or down about my art (and I've already read it a bunch of times)#Thank you so much for sending me such a nice message!#And I know this is from a few days ago but I hope you ended up getting enough sleep - please go to bed and be well-rested!! haha #asks

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bordysbae · 1 year

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Could you do 53 and 54 combined, with Mark Estapa? Please and thank you 💋

“can i be your boyfriend?”

mark estapa x fem!reader

53. yeah i like you dipshit

54. i want you, not them

disclaimer: i’m so sorry this is definitely one of my least favorites i’ve written, but it’s been in my inbox for a few days and i felt like i need to write it sooner than later? i’ve been pretty sick lately so i truly apologize if this is actually dog shit ugh. ALSO!!! emma is a fake character, idek if ethan has cousins LOL

—

you and mark aren’t dating, but everyone can clearly see that you guys like each other, it’s just a matter of time until you both admit it. normally you aren’t one to get jealous, but something clicked tonight when you saw him talking to her.

ethan’s cousin came to visit him at college, and this isn’t the first time she’s been here either. last year when she came to visit for her winter break, which started a week before michigans, she had everyone’s attention. all the guys were swooning over her, but of course she chose mark. at that time you were nothing with mark, just a close friend with all of the guys, so it didn’t bother you. they never ended up working out since mark thought ethan would be pissed, and he didn’t want to do long distance on top of that.

at the beginning of this semester you and mark became very close friends, and you both developed feelings. neither of you wants to admit it, but it’s just sort of a known fact that you’re bound to date. you guys have seen other people, but once you both began hooking up it stayed that way. you haven’t seen anyone else since you guys first hooked up, and neither has he. but now you’re not so sure, since mark seems perfectly content with her obvious flirting.

you begin to chug your drink as she laughs at whatever he said to her. you can’t imagine anything mark estapa said is that funny, so obviously she’s faking it. “you need to relax, he wouldn’t do that to you y/n,” dylan says to you as he takes a sip from his red solo cup.

“dylan you saw how obsessed they were with each other last year, and it doesn’t help that she’s prettier than me! she looks like a fucking instagram model!” you throw your head back as you place the cup to your lips, finishing the last of your drink.

“relax, she’s not prettier than you. she gets botox and her hair color is fake” dylan chuckles.

“oh dylan you’re such a woman, i love you!” you exclaim as you wrap your arms around the boy. he lets out a laugh and scruffs up the top of your hair.

“let’s go get more drinks yeah?”

“oh hell yeah, i need a lot more to be able to watch this shit” you groan, making dylan chuckle. on your way into the kitchen you both run into luke and tj.

“ah my favorite hughes!” you reply, buzzed a little bit. “hi y/n, hey duker!” luke says.

“y/n did you hear em-“ tj begins to say. “shut up tj, yeah i know she’s here. i don’t really care buddy” you roll your eyes and scoff. you excuse yourself from the conversation before you show anymore jealousy.

you cant stand how much the boys talk about her. it’s always “emma this!” “emma that!” like honestly who cares? you assume ethan isn’t very happy with her at the moment either, so you go find him once you refill your drink. you spot him on the stairs looking bored out of mind as he talks to some random girl, so you decide to save him from his misery, “ethan!” you shout to grab his attention. he instantly turns around and excuses himself from the conversation with the girl. “thank fucking god, you’re my lord and savior!” he exclaims, pretending to bow down to you making you laugh.

“why aren’t you with mark? i feel like at every party you’re always under his arm” ethan asks, taking a sip from his drink.

“he’s uh, with your cousin”

“he is? of course” ethan chuckles. although he’d never admit it, ethan isn’t too fond of his cousin. she’s very touchy with all of his teammates and friends, but since she’s family there’s not much he can do about it.

“yeah, they’re over there” you say pointing to the living room full of drunken people vaping and dancing. emma and mark are sat on one of the couches, and that’s when you notice her hand on marks bicep. that throws you overboard, and makes your blood boil.

“oh you’re kidding” you mumble. ethan turns to you and gives you a confused look.

“what’d you say? i cant hear you over the music.” he says leaning down to hear you better.

“ethan flirt with me!” you blurt out, making ethan spit his drink back in his cup.

“pardon?” he asks, thinking he’s maybe had too much alcohol and is beginning to hear things.

“i said flirt with me! i need to make mark jealous”

“you’re gonna get me killed, y/n!” he cries out.

“and whys that? it’s not like me and mark are dating or anything! we’ve been hooking up, i caught feelings which everyone knows about, and now he’s all over your cousin. so i don’t really see why i cant flirt with you!” you shrug

“i cant tell you why but i just cant do that to him!”

“well he hasn’t been a man and told me he likes me, soooo just flirt with me for christ sake! i’ll go find some random guy to flirt with me if you won’t!”

“no no don’t do that, the guys here are sketchy. fine i’ll flirt with you, but if mark kills me you better speak at my fucking funeral”

“attaboy!” you say playfully hitting his chest.

you and ethan begin fake flirting, and it’s only when you lean into his ear to whisper something that drives mark over the edge. you’ve seen him glaring at you both a few times, but now he’s storming over to you guys.

“eddy what the fuck are you doing?” he drunkenly yells at ethan, making ethan’s eyes go wide. “see i told you he’d kill me! get mad at her man not me! y/n explain it to him” ethan proclaims.

“mark can we just go outside” you roll your eyes at him, he nods his head in annoyance and follows you out onto the porch. you sit against the wall and mark sits down next to you. “the fuck was all that? are we nothing to you?” mark says.

“oh you’re fucking funny mark! you’re one to talk! don’t go blaming me for this shit! first of all, we aren’t even dating so i don’t know why you’re so pissed at me! and sec—“ you begin, but mark cuts you off, “well—“

you then interrupt him back, “i’m not done talking shh! as i was saying, second of all, you were all over emma! you didn’t even seem to mind that her hand was on your arm, and that she was laughing at every fucking thing you said! so no mark, this isn’t my fault and dont accuse me of assuming we’re nothing! i like you, dipshit! is that so hard to see?! i’ve liked you for months now! i don’t want you with anyone else, so i wanted to make you jealous! im not used to seeing you with other girls mark, it’s always me under your arm not emma!” you cry out, now standing up pacing the deck.

“i like you too dumbass! i was planning to ask you out on a date and tell you how i felt, maybe even ask you to be my girlfriend, but then stupid emma came back to town and ruined it! i’m sorry i made you feel that way, but it also hurt me seeing you all over my best friend. girls use me to get to ethan sometimes, and i don’t think you’d do that but it just struck a nerve i guess.” he explains, now standing up as well.

“why did you let her be all over you?”

“i don’t really have an answer if i’m being honest. i didn’t even think about it, i’m really sorry. i get it if you’re pissed at me, i would be too.”

“i’m not pissed at all i’m just annoyed. not necessarily at you, just at everyone. they all kiss the ground she walks on and it’s just fucking annoying. i’m sorry for everything mark, i promise im not mad at you” you say, looking up at the 6’2” boy.

mark looks down at you, and cups your cheeks, “i want you, not emma. know that.” he then leans down to kiss you, and you return the act. his hands remain on your cheeks, and your hands find their way to the back of his nec. you both taste like a mixture of alcohols, but you’re both too far in the moment to even notice.

he pulls back for air and smiles down at you and your slightly swollen lips. “so what do you say, will you be my girlfriend? actually no scratch that, can i be your boyfriend?” he smiles cheesily, way too proud of himself for his romcom of a proposal.

“you’re so cringe, but yes i would love for you to be my boyfriend estapa!” you giggle, playing with the hairs at the back of his neck.

#mark estapa x reader #mark estapa blurb #mark estapa imagine #mark estapa #hockey blurb #hockey imagine #umich hockey #michigan hockey #ethan edwards

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jacobsbigmelons · 1 year

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Inspired by your username... Can I request one where Jacob's bf is obsessed with his pecs and like playing with them, maybe a first time blowjob too?

you don’t understand how much i love this

i am trying so hard not to self insert myself here because i’m a whole tiddy guy for men ESPECIALLY JACOBMYGODILLDOANYTHINGJUSTFORASQUEEZE

“They are pecs, not ‘tiddies’.”

Jacob Custos x male reader

nsfw, pec play, blowjobs, slightly public, muscle worship

“Anyone see Jacob? Y/N? They’ve just kinda been missing ever since we finished packing” Abi said, the sun beaming off of her colored hair. “Y/N always goes off on his own little trips, but Jacob? He probably got himself lost and trapped in a ditch somewhere knowing him” Kaitlyn spoke, her arms crossed over one another. “Or maybe they’re grabbing some last minute things?” Ryan shrugged as his suggestion floated in the air for a little bit “i think last minute was around 15 minutes ago, y’know…when the packing finished up?” “Touché” Ryan nodded.

“Hey don’t splash me!” Jacob complained as the cold water hit his body “Youre already wet stop being a baby!” You hollered before giving him another splash of lake water, which he returned just as quick. “Babe babe babe babe…babe! Watch this.” Jacob said as he swam towards the doc and pulled himself up as he wrapped his leg around the dock piling like a stripper pole, and began to rub his body from top to bottom before looking directly back to you. “You should be the next AdamandEve spokesperson” you yelled out, Jacob kept the pose, though with a confused look. “what’s that?” he said as he now wrapped his hand around the piling.

“Uh- website where you buy…y’know, stuff for late night bedroom stuff.” You said quieter as you also pulled yourself up onto the dock as you admired your boyfriends beautifully structured body. “I mean I could try but I don’t think they’d let me if it’s about sex and shit” Jacob said as he finally unraveled himself from the pole “and whys that? you got the body and you clearly know your way around a pole” You said as you pointed to him and the pole “Uh- Well i”m sure it wouldn’t matter but I uh…i’ve never been led to the bedroom, let’s say that.”

Jacobs statement drew a blank to you, you merely blinked at him for a few seconds before speaking “You never had sex?! Have you…ever had anything explicit with another person?” You we’re gonna speak more before Jacob intersected by putting his hand in front of him as a way to stop you from speaking. “Hey hey hey! I- I have actually thank you very much.” His tone trying not to waver nervously “mmmhm…lay with me” you demand with a small pat on the dock to let Jacob know to lay down as you shifted your body so your legs weren’t dangling off but instead laid on top of the dock.

Jacob walked the very few steps it took to get next to you as he crouched down before laying down fully, he put his arm behind his head as a way to support it. You moved in close to his chest as you rubbed your hand around his pecs and abs, the dripping water adding some shine to his physique. “Not saying i’m total eye candy but your more than welcome to admire” Jacob rubbed his other hand in-between your thighs.

“Yeah sure meathead” you teased as you sat up and straddled his lap as you looked down at him, his body definitely what Jacob labeled as ‘eye candy.’ You wrapped your hands on the sides of his chest before rubbing along it while playfully caressing the soft tissue in your hands. “You really like playing with my pecs huh?” Jacob stated, clearly not going to do anything to stop it though. “You got some hot tiddies what can I say.” You smiled before rubbing his chest again, Jacobs face now looking slightly offended.

“They are pecs…not tiddies, if you’re gonna play with ‘em at least show them some respect by calling them by what they’re called.” Jacob explained, of course he would get defensive over a muscle group. The hunk only knew brawn’s after all. “I’m so sorry your dear pectoral muscles got offended” you leaned down as you began to kiss your boyfriend, his underwear clearly not hiding how we was feeling anymore with the quite obvious poking you feel on your stomach.

The two of you made out until you decided to go lower down the body as you kissed around his neck, then his arms, biceps, back to his chest and nipples, abs, everything. The pleasurable sounds he made definitely let you know the effect you had on him then and there. “Your body is so fucking hot” your voice, slightly muffled as you spoke with your lips to his skin. At this point you already got to his dick, your hand rubbing against it as Jacob softly cursed.

“Can I suck you off?” You said sitting up straight once more as your hands were on the elastic parts of his underwear ready to take them off, his dick practically begging to be let out as it kept twitching. “Oh uh- Y-yeah! What uh…what should I do?” Jacob said slightly puzzled, trying to recollect every scene of porn he’s watched, yet it seemed like every little think he could try and think of wasn’t helping him decide what to do.

“Just lay there and look hot baby, let me do all the work for your first time” You confidently said, despite Jacob being slightly embarrassed at the fact that he has never been apart of explicit congress such as this, yet his confident personality hid a lot of that. You pulled off his last piece of clothing before moving it to the side, you leaned down as you licked the base of his penis while he led your hands back up to his chest, specifically to where his nipples were as if he wanted you to stimulate him up there while also doing it down there.

“Holy shit your fingers feel so good but your mouth is really doing a number down there” Jacob said in one breath, before you finally took his dick into your mouth. You went as far as you could and even just the tip going in was enough for Jacob to groan loudly. His hips began to move back and forth as you continued to rub and slightly pinch at his nipples. You grabbed his chest as a whole not long after as just grabbing his pecs and squishing them yourself was hot in its own way. “God this shouldn’t be so hot” Jacob quietly said with gaps in between as he was trying to not fumble his words from just how good he was feeling.

You were bobbing your head pretty quick, and it didn’t take long before Jacob eventually took a chunk of your hair in his hands and moved you up and down himself. “Take that big fucking dick in that tight fucking throat of yours.” He said as he began thrusting a lot faster, as well as his hips began to quiver a lot more. Only then was it when he stopped abruptly and cum began to leak from the small gaps of your mouth, that he finally let go of your hair.

“Oh my…fucking god, you gotta suck this dick a lot more babe jesus christ.” Jacob heaved as you took yourself off of his cock, cum making its way down your neck slightly. “We always got tonight, or if you want…you can be the one sucking this time.” You smirked while you used your arm to clean the mess that was made off of your body and Jacob was yet again lost in thought knowing the last night spent together at camp at least will be the most remembered for both him and you.

a/n: I finished this at like 3:20AM so if any of the last bits sound weird m so sorry ;-;

#jacob custos #the quarry #jacob custos my fucking beloved #jacob custos x male reader #jacob custos x reader #the quarry jacob #the quarry jacob custos #x male reader #x reader #x male reader smut

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boops-ies · 11 months

Text

can i take a sec to yell yall about my friend?

cool, cuz they do some cool shit

like writing typewriter poetry on the street

they take some words of inspiration and just run with it, this one was loss and change

and yall not only are the rhymes good? but look how they dress up!

like?! look how frickin cute ok

AND THATS NOT EVEN IT

they also are a statue at night, handing out flowers when people tip. ngl they've become a bit of a local legend here in california's capital

idk how they do it. every look is different, and a lof of the items, like the collars and that pink suit? they handmade. every look is different too, im obsessed

ANYWAY

theyve fallen on some tough times, being a full time street performer isnt easy, and theres been challenge after challenge lately. so i wanted to gas em up here and boost the gofund me so they can keep doing this and making the art theyve been called to do. their video explains more!

#local artist #street perfomance #typewriter #typewriter poetry #clown #clowncore #clownblr #clownsona #clown makeup #independent artist #donations #gofundme #help people #artist in need #support artists #poetry #makeup artist

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miyagifangkai · 1 year

Text

Secret Feelings

Summary: just your cliché can’t admit feelings for each other scenario and Ellie isn’t having it

Warnings: !super cheesy!, ANGSTY!, and lots of cursing!

A/N: been obsessed with Joel Miller as of late. Had to write something about him! I couldn’t handle it! I hope you all like it. Thank you so much for reading. 💕🫠

Word Count: 2.5k

“Ya know, you’re supposed ta eat that right?” Joel’s southern drawl breaks you away from your concentration.

You look up at him, “Yeah Joel, I know. I was just thinking.”

“Thinkin’? Bout what?”

You lightly chuckle, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Fine. You don’t gotta tell me then!” Joel gives a small smile.

You didn’t want to tell him exactly what you were thinking. You were thinking about the past; and you knew how Joel reacts to conversations about the past. He always seemed to shut it down, very rudely. He wouldn’t let you or Ellie speak about anything besides the present. Hell, he didn’t like talking about the future too much either because he knew. He knew what the future could hold.

Death.

Unfortunately Tess creeped up on your mind. You couldn’t believe that she was gone. She had been a part of your life for so long and became so important to you and just like that, she’s gone.

That thought had you fall down the wormhole. You started to think about all the people you’ve lost. Some days were better than others. Where you weren’t constantly sad or scared. But nowadays that’s about all the emotions you felt anymore. You would never tell Joel that. Besides, he knew how you felt any way; he could tell in your facial expressions. He knew you too well and sometimes you hated that.

You look at Ellie and she chuckles, “Why do you wanna know so bad, Joel?”

Joel looks at you two with a straight face, “I don’t.”

Your face drops a bit but Ellie’s doesn’t; before she can speak to Joel again you lay your hand on her shoulder, “You need to get some sleep, dude.”

“Ugh, what’s up with you two worrying about me sleeping? Besides! It’s a beautiful night!”

You chuckle, “We worry because we care.”

Ellie sighs, “Psh! I’m fine! I’ll sleep when I’m good and ready.”

“You’re so stubborn,” you shake your head and turn towards the fire.

You quickly glance up towards Joel and you catch him staring at you with a concerned look on his face.

“Joel?”

He snaps out of his gaze and grunts, “Hmm?”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

You shrug your shoulders, “Okay. Well, if you two ain’t gonna sleep then I sure am.”

You fix your bag and fluff it up like a pillow and lay down facing the campfire and still facing Joel.

You hear Ellie yawn and you laugh, “I knew you were tired, shithead!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Ellie giggles with you.

Joel doesn’t change his expression. He sits there with a deadpan look on his face staring into the fire.

You raise your head up, “Joel, you do know that if you keep that dower expression on your face you’re gonna get wrinkles!”

“Dude, he’s already got enough of ‘em already!” Ellie yells causing you two to laugh loudly.

“Alright, alright! Enough outta you two! I’ll keep watch. Get some sleep!” Joel stands up and walks away to a nearby tree.

You and Ellie calm down and you hear her start to make her bed for the night.

Ellie whispers, “You think he’s okay?”

You look up at her, “I really don’t know.”

Ellie sighs, “Maybe you should go talk to him,” you can see her wiggle her eyebrows in the faint light that the campfire is illuminating.

You sit up, “Ellie! Ew! No way!”

“What? You think I don’t see him stare at you all the time?”

“Ellie..”

“Or when you stare at him? Or how you two flirt?”

“You don’t even know what flirting is! You’re only fourteen, loser!”

“Excuse me! You think I’ve been living under a fucking rock?”

You fully sit up and lightly push Ellie, “Shut up! You don’t know nothin’!”

Ellie chuckles, “whatever! I was just trying to be your wingman!”

You roll your eyes, “Gross.”

Ellie lays down and starts to make herself comfortable leaving you sitting up, “I do have one more thing to say, though, before I go to sleep,”

“Oh great. What?”

“If I was wrong in my blatantly obvious accusations, by the way, why’d you make such a big deal about it and get all defensive?”

You say nothing to this.

You wanted to ignore what she just said because she’s right. Ellie gets the memo and rolls over to start drifting off to sleep leaving you with your thoughts.

You did catch Joel a few times looking at you. You didn’t think he was staring, no way. He was just looking to make sure you were okay, right?

You definitely never stared at him either! You just liked to check up on him! Make sure he’s alright!

No way, Ellie is right. You do stare at Joel. I mean, you couldn’t blame yourself. He wasn’t bad looking by any means. You couldn’t help yourself. He’s the only desirable and trustworthy male that you’ve seen in a 100 mile radius. Maybe Ellie is right.

You’re gonna start paying attention to him more, just for science.

The next morning Ellie rolls over and grunts. You and Joel had been up for a while now drinking coffee in silence. Taking in the morning air. As Ellie slowly sits up and rubs the sleep out of her eyes you give her a small smile.

“Morning,” you softly speak.

Ellie looks at you grumpily, “Morning.”

“Want some coffee?”

“Gross. No. I don’t want to drink tar!”

You chuckle, “I forgot how unbearable you are in the morning.”

You hear Joel stand up and start packing up his bag. You get the message and stand up as well and start to do the same.

“Hey!” Ellie exclaims, causing you and Joel to quickly turn your heads towards her, “no breakfast?”

Joel grunts, “Jesus, scared the hell outta me!” Joel puts his hands on his hips, “Why don’t you eat one of them health bars that Y/N has?”

Ellie looks at you and you hand her the granola bar, “there you go.”

Ellie eats as you and Joel finish packing up the truck.

You sit back down beside Ellie and join her with your own granola bar. Joel barely gives you enough time to eat.

“C’mon!” Joel grumbles.

“Fine! Damn!” Ellie quickly stands up and brushes by Joel mumbling, “who pissed in your cereal?”

Joel rubs his face and sighs.

You slowly stand up, “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just tired.”

You step closer to him, “Try to get some sleep tonight, okay? I can keep watch. You’re worrying me, Joel.”

Joel stares at you, almost dead eyed, you felt like this moment was never going to end. He looked like he was trying to find the right words to say.

“Okay.”

That was it. That’s all he had to say to you. After that he walked away and got in the truck leaving you standing there as you look down at the ground.

“Hey! Let’s get on the road! We’re losin’ daylight!”

As you’re on the road for what seemed like forever Ellie had drifted back off to sleep leaving you and Joel in silence. Again.

You couldn’t help but steal a few glances at Joel. He was usually kind of talkative. Especially when he drove but not today.

You weren’t sure if he had heard yours and Ellie’s conversation last night. Did you offend him? Is he mad at you? You start to panic even thinking about him being mad at you. The last thing you wanted to do was push him away.

“What?” Joel asks, “do I look funny or somethin’?”

You chuckle, “No. Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you or anything. I’m just worried about you.”

Joel shrugs his shoulders, “I’m fine.”

You sigh and turn towards him in your seat, “You’re not. Why aren’t you talking to me? Did I do something wrong?”

You felt tears well up in your eyes. Don’t cry. You look up at the ceiling to push back the tears and start to turn the other way.

“What? No! You ain’t done nothin’ wrong!”

“Then tell me why you’re not talking to me!”

Joel was about to answer when you two hear Ellie stir in the back.

She sits up and notices the tension is thick, “Whoa! Hey! Don’t stop on my account.”

You roll your eyes, “It’s fine. We were done anyway.”

“What’s up with you guys lately? You two are being so weird.”

You feel a pit in your stomach. You knew Ellie way too well. She was going to say something that would make the tension even worse.

She puts her hands on the seats in front of her and leans in, “why don’t you two just admit it?”

You freeze. You felt your entire body tense. Nothing to say. Nothing you could say.

Joel fills in the silence, “Admit what?”

Ellie chuckles, “Come on, Joel!”

“Ellie, stop,” you sternly say.

“Stop what? I’m trying to help you!”

Joel sighs, “Ellie, quit. Ain’t none of your business anyway.”

“Uh, yeah, it is, Joel! I have to lug around with you two constantly. So if I can stop you two from arguing so much I’m going to.”

“Ellie,” Joel grunts.

“What? I can’t help that you like her!”

“Ellie! Enough!” Joel, frustrated, yells, “You don’t know anythin’ about us! Not like it’s any of your business I don’t have any feelins’ for her. So sit down and be quiet!”

You immediately sink in your seat feeling your heart break. You can feel Ellie’s sympathetic gaze on you. You and her meet eyes in the rearview mirror as you let a few tears fall making sure Joel didn’t see it.

Ellie, not backing down, “Wow, Joel. You really can be a major asshole.”

Joel rolls his eyes and decides to drop it.

As night starts to creep closer you all find another spot to camp in.

You and Ellie had struck up small conversations with each other to make the time pass until it was time to eat some dinner. As you all ate it was silent.

Until Ellie spoke, of course, “Man, I can’t believe I’m saying this but I’m tired!”

“Yeah, me too,” you say absentmindedly looking up at Joel who is staring back at you.

“I’ll take watch get some sleep,” Joel starts to stand up but you stand up quickly before him, “no way. I said I’d take watch. Get some sleep.”

“You need rest,” he grumbles.

You stop him in his tracks when you put your hand on his chest. You could almost feel his heartbeat speed up; and how warm he was. You craved that warmth. You wanted him to hold you while you slept. You wanted him. You needed him. Unfortunately, you remove your hands from his chest immediately feeling cold.

“No, Joel. You need rest,” you say, almost a whisper.

Joel looks at you searching your eyes for anything. He could tell you were trying to ice him out. Your eyes held no warmth for him anymore and he’d never felt so alone.

“Okay,” he whispers back.

You two stand there staring into each other's eyes waiting for one of you to move. Until you do.

To walk away from him leaving him in the bitter cold and darkness.

You take watch sitting on the open truck bed with a blanket over you staring at the stars. You glance towards Joel and Ellie peacefully sleeping.

“Y/N, wake up, honey.”

Your eyes shoot open.

Fuck.

You fell asleep.

“Joel! I’m so sorry! I swear I stayed up a long time, I really did!” You felt more tears. You were nearing a panic attack until he says,

“I believe you.”

You breathe a sigh of fresh air but panic again.

“I’m so sorry. I could’ve gotten us killed.”

“Yeah, you could’ve. But you didn’t.”

You feel the truck sink a tad bit as Joel takes a seat beside you. You start to see some sunlight come through the trees.

“I know. It won’t happen again. I promise!” You exclaim.

Joel looks at you but you refuse to look back at him, “I know it won’t.”

Shit. You felt your heart flutter.

You two sit there for a little bit, again, in silence. You wanted to say something to him. But what do you say?

You suddenly feel his hand place themself in yours. You almost jump from his touch. You weren’t sure why he was holding your hand. He wasn’t the touchy feely kinda type. Why was he doing this?

“Look at me,” Joel gruffly demands.

“Joel, you don’t have to do this,” your voice cracks.

“Don’t gotta do what?”

“Feel sorry for me. I’m not gonna be somebody’s pity fuck, okay?”

Joel laughs probably from pure shock from what you just said, “Excuse me? Pity fuck?”

You look at him with disdain, “Yes, Joel! It’s okay that you don’t like me.”

“Y/N.”

“So let go of my hand and leave me be. Let me get over it!”

“Y/N, please listen—“

“ No! I don’t need you sitting here with me tenderly holding my hand,” you sarcastically say, “and your fucking bedroom voice and those fucking bedroom eyes looking at me! I don’t need—“

“Fuck it.”

Joel leans in and takes you into a passionate kiss. His lips softly caressing yours with so much love and care. You lift your hand up and lay it on his cheek subconsciously feeling the scars he has. You could feel the slight warmth from the sun and the warmth of him. He was radiating and you’ve never felt more happy.

You pull away first from him, “Joel.”

He places his hand gently behind your neck, “I wanted to,” you two lean down touching your foreheads together while you catch your breaths.

“Good.”

Joel smiles, “You had no idea how long I’d been waiting for the right moment.”

You look up at him confused, “Why’d you say that in the truck?”

“I was scared. I don’t— no— I can’t lose you,” you loved when he got flustered. How he stumbled over his words.

You smile and lightly push him, “You damn near did! Asshole!”

“I know.”

You smile and pull him in by his shirt and capture his lips again. Relishing the taste of what Ellie calls “tar.” Joel takes the lead and starts to deepen the kiss letting himself go a little more. Entering his tongue in your mouth causing you to let out a quiet moan. Your hands gripping on his shirt tighter trying to pull him closer to you.

You two were so invested in each other that you had neglected to hear Ellie approach.

You two quickly pull away when she yells, “Fucking finally!”

You and Joel look at her with labored breathing and all smiles.

“Shut up,” you chuckle.

“I mean, it’s disgusting. Gag worthy, honestly. Like the mere thought of you two fu—“

“Ellie!” You and Joel both scold.

“Sorry, I’ll drop it!” She puts her hands up, surrendering, “I mean, at least for now.”

“Get some breakfast, you little shit,” you laugh.

Ellie starts to slowly walk away, “Yes ma’am! I’ll eat my breakfast! Make sure Joel eats his breakfast too,” she winks.

“ELLIE!!!” You scream.

#the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller #pedro pascal #ellie williams #ellie tlou #joel miller x reader

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runningthroughthegarden · 1 year

Text

don't you know that i am right here? - xavier thorpe

summary: Xavier finds an obsession with the new girl leaving you behind. You want him to realize you’ve always been there.

a/n this is to all the people who can relate to satellite by harry styles <3

word count 1.3k , fluff , slight yelling

you got a new life. am i bothering you?

You and Xavier were best friends. Until Wednesday Addams came along. It was as if there was a magnetic force surrounding her, because as soon as she arrived you were left in the dust.

At first it hurt, a lot. But as the weeks dragged on, you grew used to the absence of your best friend. Soon that would fade, and you would grow jealous. Jealous of their relationship, jealous of the way he looked at her, jealous of the time they spent together, jealous of her.

The Rave'N dance was quickly approaching. You decided instead of moping around you were finally going to get your best friend back. And maybe even confess your feelings in the process.

do you wanna talk?

You spent the entire school day hyping yourself up to gain the courage to finally speak to Xavier. You decided you would catch up to him after school, he'd probably be by his art studio by then.

Your last class ran a couple minutes late, so you were speed walking to catch up to Xavier at his shed. Except when you arrived you realized you were far too late.

"Would you go to the dance with me?" Wednesday shyly asked.

"Yes, Wednesday, I would love to go to the dance with you. I thought you'd never ask." Xavier answers with a smile.

As you hid behind a tree to hide from Wednesdays gaze, you could feel your heart sink. As tears prickled your eyes, you fear you may never regain your best friend.

i don’t wanna talk to you. she said “give me a day or two”

Tears now streaming down your face, you rush back to your dorm. On the way Enid notices your disheveled state.

"Oh, em gee!! y/n what happened are you okay??" Enid asks with concern while grabbing your shoulders.

"Wednesday and Xavier are going to the dance together" you say between sniffles.

"What do you mean? Everyone thought you two were gonna go together." Enid asks, a bit confused.

"What do you mean everyone?" you say confused.

"I mean it's like totally obvious that you two are in love with each other. You'd be an idiot not to see that." Enid explains.

You can feel even more tears begin to form.

"Hey c'mon don't worry about it, you'll get him back. You can come dress shopping with us! Show him what he's really missing." Enid laughs.

"Yeah okay." you agree with a small smile.

i go ‘round and ‘round satellite.

It was now a day before the dance, you were a little nervous to see Xavier. You decided that if you stuck with your friends, you'd forget about him and finally have some fun. Enid helped you pick out a beautiful white lace dress.

The school day was going fine until you heard whispers around you.

'Did you hear about Xavier and Wednesday??'

'I heard she ditched him for Tyler'

'She totally played him'

'Poor Xavier must be heartbroken'

You wanted so badly to talk to him, but you knew you weren't strong enough to face him. Besides, you were finally starting to do good on your own. Stick to the plan and don't get caught up.

As you entered the quad your eyes immediately landed on him. He looked tired and lost as he continued working on his mural. He turned around, almost immediately sensing your eyes lingering on his frame.

Your eyes locked from across the quad. Two broken teenagers hoping to become whole again.

i can see you’re lonely down there

It was finally the night of the Rave'N dance. You spent the few hours beforehand to yourself getting ready in your dorm. You were going to meet Enid and your friends right outside the party entrance, so you took your time.

As you finished the final touches you felt absolutely beautiful. The silk and lace fabric hugging your figure. The glittering eyeshadow making your eyes sparkle in the moonlight. Your hair falling in perfect curls contouring your face.

Walking over to the Rave'N you felt the best you had in weeks. All eyes were on you as you made your grand entrance. The lights and atmosphere amplified your beauty even more.

While your friends made their way to a table, you felt a familiar pair of eyes on you. You look over to see nonother than Xavier. Just like in the quad it feels like time stops for just a moment. You soon break the contact trying to stay strong. You are here to have fun, not mope.

Shortly after your entrance everyone silenced as Wednesday Addams arrived. She came with some normie from Jericho. As much as you hated to admit it, she looked amazing.

You look over to see Xavier's eyes immediately glued to her. Of course. You were stupid to think Xavier would be easily pulled away from her. Your heart stung for a moment, feeling insecurities take over you.

spinning out, waiting for ya

You were out on the dance floor dancing with Enid, who was pulling out all her signature moves. Once again you felt a pair of eyes on you. At this point you were so tired of his stupid little games.

Just as you were about to advert your gaze he quickly shot up, walking towards you. Before you could even say a word, he was grabbing your wrist and pulling you outside.

"What is your problem?" Xavier quickly asks.

"My problem? What's my problem?!? Why don't we start with yours?" You ask, feeling the anger rise inside of you.

"What-" Xavier was about to question before you cut him off.

"You seriously think I didn't notice? Ever since Wednesday's arrived you haven't given a shit about me" You explain.

"y/n that's not what-" Xavier tries to explain.

"I'm spinning out, waiting for you to pull me in. I can see you're lonely down there. Don't you know that I am right here??" You slightly shout, watching Xavier's face for any sort of answer.

"y/n can't you see! That's why I had to back away." Xavier cries out.

"What?" you say. You suddenly feel insecure standing in front of the man you're in love with.

"I am so fucking in love with you I don't know what to do with myself!" Xavier exclaims.

You stand there confused.

"I can't keep my eyes off of you. I constantly hear your voice in my head. I can't stop drawing you. You're all I think about. It's like you've consumed me. It feels like summer when I'm with you. You're this constant beam of light in my life. And I didn't want to ruin you." Xavier sighs.

"Ruin me?" you say confused.

"I just, I was so scared I would somehow mess up our relationship. I didn't want to take that chance, so I just left. I went with Wednesday to try to distract myself, but that didn't work at all. All I could think about was you" Xavier explains.

"You're an idiot!" You yell.

"What?" Xavier questions, confused by your outburst.

"I've been right here this whole time! You could've talked to me. We could have talked this through" you exclaim.

Xavier stands there for a second.

"Is it too late now?" He asks, grabbing your hands to pull you in closer.

"Please just kiss me already" you plead.

Before you could even finish that sentence his lips came crashing down onto yours. His hands fell to your waist, pulling you in. Your arms swung around his neck, deepening the kiss. The world stopped for just a moment. You finally pulled away, gasping for air with pink swollen lips. Neither of your smiles could be contained.

There you were. Two teenagers kissing in the moonlight. Finally whole.

#Spotify #xavier thorpe oneshot #xavier x reader #xavier thorpe #wednesday addams #harry styles #satellite

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ryuichirou · 6 months

Note

Azul×Idia headcanons... hand em over, I wanna hear them all, every single one

(You're artsyle is so scrumptious it's not even funny❤❤❤❤❤❤)

Dear Anon! Sorry for the late reply. I am very happy you like my artstyle, and I am especially happy that you like Azul/Idia. They are our first twst ship, they are actually the first twst ship that we’ve written headcanons about, and our first post with them was almost a year ago?? That’s a long time, but I still feel like we just fell in love with these two lol

Just in case, here are some previous posts with hcs about them:

The very first one

Some more headcanons (+the ones about the Marriage AU)

The one with octo!Azul

The one about the overblot versions of these two

There are also some about Idia and the OctaTrio, but you can find all of them in the according tag (“headcanons”), so I won’t link them here.

As you can see, we have a lot to say about them lol, but it’s been a while since our last hc post about them, so I’ll give you some new ones! God I hope they’re new… I hate it when I accidentally repeat myself lol

They are an odd couple because both are allergic to sincerity and have a hard time opening up to each other. It’s almost like they’re afraid that if they say something honest and romantic, the other one is going to laugh at him. And to be honest, Azul is worse at it than Idia. Like, Idia’s initial reaction would be laugh it off and say that Azul is cringe (as a defense mechanism), but he would actually appreciate it a lot and maybe even open up in return. Azul, however, is absolutely terrified of being rejected for his feelings and sometimes has a hard time reacting to Idia’s own sincere moments. But he’s slowly getting better, I guess.

Despite that, Azul is actually quite romantic sometimes. If he falls asleep in Idia’s room, he clings to him, his long limbs, his warm hair. He is actually quite needy when he lets his guard down. But Idia learned not to comment on that, because Azul instantly gets embarrassed and super pissed off and sometimes even bites him :( Ouch

They actually argue quite often. And god forbid if they argue about something that can’t easily get googled and prove one of them wrong, because this petty argument is going to last for ages. Sometimes it ends up being an arousing thing for them, but Idia always comments on how much of a cliché it is to yell at each other and then make out passionately.

Their sex life used to be super awkward at the very beginning of their relationship, because they are basically a combo of a socially inept hikki guy whose kinks and preferences are super far detached from a real human life, and a merman who didn’t have legs or human reproductive organs only 3 years ago. So they weren’t even super into sex at first, it’s just too much mental and physical work, too awkward and embarrassing. That being said, they did have their early horny moments when they got really carried away and way too into touching each other.

After they’ve been together for some time though, sex is going to become less stressful, at least for Azul. He learns very fast, and he is obsessed with getting better, so Idia is going to be overwhelmed and fucked in all the right places at the same time lol But they still have these vibes of two awkward but horny nerds sometimes.

There are periods during which they don’t have sex at all, and barely even have any romantic interactions. During these one might even think that they’re just friends, since they seem to be very neutral in the ways they interact and talk about games and stuff. Idia doesn’t mind it, but it’s a bit wild even to him sometimes how not interested in sex Azul actually is…because when Azul is aroused, it seems like sex is the most important thing in his life lol I guess this is an animal within him.

They aren’t really into bdsm, but they’re one of those couples who fall into the d/s dynamics naturally sometimes for some reason. Mostly because Idia is very bratty with Azul and likes to tease him, and sometimes Azul gets pissed off and reacts in a very dominating and overwhelming way, and then all of a sudden things happen… Let’s just say that Idia got spanked more than one time.

#replies #azuide #azuidi #headcanons

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