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pearlywritings · 1 year

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Sometimes the name doesn't matter

synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife.

pairings: Alhaitham, Ayato, Diluc, Kaeya x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship, a little bit of bullying, a bit of unwelcome drunk flirting, characters are whipped for their wives

word count: 5.4k+ words

a/n: part 2 can be read here!

Alhaitham

Your husband is… Truly something. Honestly, that's the best way to describe this epitome of nonchalance, smugness and sarcasm, sprinkled with sharp glares and served with a smartass sauce. No one would be able to swallow such a nasty pill, yet you somehow managed. But that's what doctors say, right? The medicine might be bitter, but it'll get better. And it did.

Hard to believe, but the Akademiya's Scribe is enamored by you - it took time to realize, many interactions for him to see that you do not rise annoyance in him, multiple times sharing the eye contact and hundreds of hours being your interlocutor to cognize the beauty of you, but when he fell - he fell hard, and the realization didn't make him feel repulsed. On the contrary, it brought him inexplicable peace, and, being an efficient and straightforward man he is, Alhaitham faced you the very next day and asked out on a date.

The rest is history. You dated, you moved in, you got married - the sequence your husband perfected in its briefness to be over with quickly anytime his colleagues or anyone asked about you and your relationship. You, of course, would give a more detailed summary to your friends, speaking of him so tenderly, always witnessing the same reaction - disbelief. And you get it where they come from - after all, your partner is known to not be the most cordial person. He prefers it that way though - he is bothered much less and can dedicate that free time to his lovely wife.

He makes it a point to not leave the house unnecessarily early, just exactly enough to get to his office on time, and same with finishing his work, bluntly rejecting anyone who tries to approach him with stuff. This way he doesn’t waste a second with you, quite on contrary, sometimes a couple of hours can be added, if you visit him during the afternoon to go grab lunch together, or enjoy the one you brought with you, and then rest somewhere in a private spot with your head on his shoulder, holding a bigger hand that is resting on your thigh, while his other one is occupied with a book. This is enough to power you both up to push through the rest of the day, and Alhaitham really appreciates it, never failing to give you a kiss on the lips and murmuring the soft words of reassurance, before parting your ways till the evening.

Today is one of those days when you find yourself in the House of Daena with a home-cooked lunch neatly wrapped and warm in your hands. A couple of librarians greet you on the way, knowing perfectly well who you are, and you smile at them. One older woman, who’s always been fond of your character, informs you that Alhaitham hasn’t left the Grand Sage’s office since the moment he arrived, and you thank her for going out of her way to reassure you that you will not need to search for him.

There’s another exchange of greetings at the bottom of an elevator and just seconds later you start ascending to the above of the huge library. The quiet whirling of mechanisms is calming and you hum softly to yourself, imagining that tender look in those light turquoise eyes, a rare shine in orange-ringed yellow pupils and a slight pull of thin lips upon seeing your figure and catching a whiff of food you brought. A content sigh escapes your chest and you prepare to soon step off the huge round platform.

But instead of catching a glimpse of your husband, you are met with sharp black eyes, staring at you and a scowl present on the face of a person you don't believe you've seen before, at least not long enough to remember. You blink in surprise, eyes darting to look at the man from head to toe - he is wearing the Akademiya’s robes, but there is no indicator to which Darshan he belongs to. A Matra perhaps? But you are used to seeing a completely different face of a scholar Alhaitham appointed as his secretary for the period of time he’d fulfill the role of an Acting Grand Sage. Panah has soft brown eyes, always nodding to you in a greeting and leaving upon your arrival if it is lunch time and his boss doesn’t instruct him to stay and carry on with his job, not minding you two.

This one practically glares at you, arms crossed and posture intimidating. You simply tilt your head in question, waiting for him to say something.

“Who allowed you to enter?”

The tone of his voice is pretty rude, and the gruff voice doesn't add grace to it. You are not one to judge someone by their looks - your husband is the proof of that, so you decide to brush it off and simply answer.

"Shohre of course, as usual."

“...as usual?” His brows furrow, and you get even more confused with the question. Is your husband having some kind of an impromptu inspection? He didn’t tell you anything about it in the morning, and since the Akasha got turned off, there is no simple way to warn you of it.

"Is Alhaitham holding any meeting, perhaps?" You try, knowing it's absurd since he doesn't love his sweet lunch time being interrupted, but right now it's hard to find an explanation for this hostile-acting man's actions.

"You have so little respect for the Acting Great Sage?"

This time the booming edge in his words makes an echo in a pretty vast space and almost makes you flinch. The situation is escalating pretty quickly.

"Sir, I don't know who you are, but I do not believe I ever deserved such treatment from you. Would you be so kind to explain what's going on or at least let me see the Acting Great Sage-"

That must've sounded kind of sarcastic, because the man looks like he is ready to fume akin to a kettle.

"Who even are you!? Who do you think you are? Demanding a meeting like that - you must know his schedule is packed, so don't you assume that your pretty face would get you through-"

"Jahan, what is going on?" The "Jahan" shuts instantly upon hearing a deep, dripping with authority voice behind him. Your face instantly brightens when you spot the tall man approaching you two with his arms crossed and the most nonchalant expression etched in his features.

“We have an intruder, Sir.”

What in the Archon’s name- This is becoming ridiculous.

"An intruder?" He lifts his brow and glances at you, gaze lingering just for a few seconds longer. Then it returns to his subordinate. "I don't see one here."

"This woman," you move just in time not to have his index finger directly point you right in your face, "came here without prior appointment, not stating her purpose, not even stating her name!"

"Is that so?" You almost snort at how little Alhaitham cares for what this man has for an explanation, instead moving directly to you and taking a heavy lunch boxes from your hands, allowing your shoulders and arms to drop in relief.

“Her name is of no matter. All you need to know is that she is my wife.”

The room falls silent. The man stares at his boss with eyes so wide, you worry they’d pop out of his sockets. Your husband though doesn’t show any reaction to the stunned look on the man’s face, balancing all the containers in one hand, offering you the other, which you take with a smile.

"S-she what?"

"My wife. And she, along with the necessary descriptions, is literally the only person on the list of the people who are free to come and leave whenever. On the list Panah passed to you along with other instructions before taking his sick leave. Did you even skip through those?"

The tone of your husband is cold with a mocking edge, rubbing his subordinate’s incompetence in his face, and you don't need to look at the man to sense his panic.

"I-I, no of course I thoroughly looked through every single one, but I do not remember such paper, it must've been lost along the process-"

"It doesn't matter. Now you are aware. But there is one more thing you need to learn about my wife visiting."

"Yes, Sir?"

"You leave the moment she enters."

There is a momentary pause (you know Alhaitham is rolling his eyes inwardly at how slowly the notion seems to reach him), before Jahan snaps out of his stupor, slightly bows, mumbling something and quickly walks off to the elevator.

Not even waiting for the mechanism to start, your husband tugs on your hand and you take the hint, following him to the sofas and a table.

"What an imbecile," is murmured in annoyance and you finally chuckle, covering your mouth with a hand.

Your husband is truly something, but one thing is absolutely certain - his wife is the only person that really worths his nerves and time.

Ayato

Kamisato Ayato is a character of many admirable traits and worth-mentioning accomplishments, a great leader, an amazing big brother, a boss held in high regard, and a loving husband of three years to you. This last, but not the least, is Commissioner's favorite, and he makes sure to show it every opportunity present in his individual mischievous way.

You know he gets away with a lot of things, and for numerous reasons, ranging from being the head of the Yashiro Commission, to him being pretty unknown by face among the commoners due to Ayaka handling all the public affairs. This one in particular is harmless, but there is that little thing which drives you up the wall - he does it only when you are present, leaving you very flustered and with a fast beating heart.

"My name? Oh, I am a husband. This gorgeous woman's husband."

"Lord Kamisato? No need to be so formal with me, just call me her husband."

"'Kamisato Ayato' and all my titles are so long to write down, can't I sign it with 'Y/n's hubby' instead?"

"Kamisato Y/n's husband. That's who I am."

"Ayaka, have you forgotten? No more calling me 'big brother', only 'Y/n's husband- Stop laughing, I am serious!"

The last one is literally happening right before your eyes, with the younger sibling hiding her smile and suppressing her giggles behind her intricately decorated fan, as the older one has taken his glove off, wiggling his fingers to show the glistening golden band wrapped around one of them. You, on the other hand, are trying to cover your heated face with a stack of papers you picked when Ayaka entered the office and addressed her big brother as, well, big brother. Peeking above the filled with reports sheets you catch a sly smile playing on Ayato's lips, while his usually piercing eyes reflect the special kind of adoration he holds for you.

You know why he is doing this - the man fought hard for your heart and then hand in marriage, and since it is now a reality, he absolutely keens on that "I am your husband" notion. Sometimes it's a perfect ice breaker in introducing you two to new people, sometimes it's a reason for an eye roll (yours as well), at times it puts people in stupor which Ayato uses to his advantage, but there is always only one initial thought behind every single one of them - showing the world he is proud to be your partner with a label "husband" on it.

And this sentiment is fully returned! However you never had an opportunity to do the same - he always beats you to it, and leaves bashful long enough for the moment to become wasted. You know you can always talk it through with him and he’d be more than happy to give you a chance, but, after all these times he left you speechless, it’s simply a matter of pride to pay him back. Besides… You really-really want to see his reaction if you told someone important those words.

That you are his wife.

You hear a soft knock on the living room’s door where you and Ayato are sitting next to each other at one side of the low table.

“Lord and Lady Kamisato, the guests have arrived.”

“Wonderful, please let them in.”

The man notices your elation upon hearing those words and smiles to himself - your friends from another nation, whom you haven’t seen properly in ages, finally managed to reach the coasts of Inazuma and seek a meeting to reconnect with you and also meet your mysterious husband you’ve written and praised so much in your letters.

The scene is heartwarming. Two girls around your age are tightly hugging you with excited squeals while the man that came in together with them, patiently waits to be introduced. Ayato follows his example, watching your grinning face, filing away every single detail about it - the sparkles in your eyes, the rosiness of your cheeks, that adorable wrinkling of your nose when the girls say something cheesy, and the pure happiness written all over your visage.

“Oh, Y/n, it’s so nice to see you again after so long! So much happened…”

“Yes! We totally should discuss every single event! But I offer to start by introducing us and our husbands.”

“One of you got married?” You ask surprised. “I know that only one of you got recently engaged-”

“Me! But the wedding is so soon, that I already call him my husband, hehe. Oh, we brought the wedding invitation for you and your husband as well, I hope you two will make it!”

“Girls, girls, let’s calm down,” you laugh, pausing them and gesturing to the two men silently observing you - both pairs of eyes shining with admiration. “Ayato, my dear, I want you to meet my friends I’ve told you so much about…”

Your husband hears familiar names, ones he’s remembered long ago, and nods in recognition, offering each a kiss on the back of their hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet people my beloved holds in high regard.”

“Likewise,” they giggle, giving you teasing looks about how gentlemanly your spouse is, and you roll your eyes, but a smile tugging on your lips doesn’t go unnoticed.

“And I’ll take an opportunity to introduce our companion,” one of the women says, stepping closer to her fiance and offering everyone his name and a slight description of his field of work, to which Ayato hums with interest.

“And these,” your other friend gestures to you and your husband, “are Kamisato Ayato and-”

“Wife.”

Everyone falls silent and looks at you with confusion. You yourself are stunned, eyes slightly widened and heart skipping a beat. The word really just flew out of your mouth faster when you could think about it.

“Excuse me?” Your friend gapes at you, and suddenly it clicks. This spontaneous reaction, caused by your unspoken desire, presents you with a perfect opportunity. You finally can get “revenge” on your husband.

“That’s what I said, sweety,” with a smirk and boosting confidence you glance at Ayato and meet his lilac eyes, staring at you with a hint of amusement. “I am this marvelous man’s wife. You know, 'Kamisato Y/n' is way too long to pronounce. So, maybe just a wife instead?”

The silence reigns again, with the three of your guests clearly being in stupor and your husband observing you with an unreadable expression. But suddenly he laughs. Joyfully and sincerely, it plucks on the strings of your crazily beating heart. Instantly there are arms wrapping around your waist and lips pressed against your temple, and you can feel the smile he hides in your hair.

“Yes, that’s right… This remarkable woman is my wife. Most incredible and lovely wife.”

Turning your head slightly you manage to catch a soft blush dusting his porcelain skin, before he faces away from you. Oh Archons, he loves it and he is bashful!

As you fully turn in his embrace and start teasing him, loud enough for only the man to hear (you are not that cruel to embarrass him in front of people), your guests' existence is forgotten for a moment. Both girls sigh and look at the completely lost man, whose hand his future wife takes and rubs a thumb over his knuckles.

“Ah… Please, don’t mind that. She always had a strange sense of humor, and it seems that her husband only enabled it.”

That is true, but you look genuinely happy, so they can bear a week of occasional cringing.

Diluc

The annual harvest celebration has been a tradition in the Ragnvindr family for as long as the Dawn Winery existed. When Master Crepus was alive, it was hosted in the grand mansion with spacious halls and intricately decorated staircases, the one Diluc used to call his home. Guests would gather, wine bars would be uncorked and red liquid fill dozens of glasses, as he and Kaeya would curiously watch the adults interact, sneaking out of their rooms to spy from the hiding spots they knew so well.

But not anymore. Gone were the days of careless happiness he calls the past now, gone his father, gone the mansion, and gone his desire for active social interaction. It's been some years since his return and the sale of the mansion in attempts to run away from said past. The celebration came to a stop for as long as he was gone and then while he tended to re-establishing the business after arrival.

The Dawn Winery, despite all the maids and winemakers, would become so quiet. And it's not like he stayed there for long too - he was always somewhere, preoccupied by something.

That is until his life was shaken and turned upside down, and all by the hands of one single person. The person, who brought light back to his dark crimson eyes, who made him stop and think about how he can not just exist, but live, and happily so, waiting for every opportunity possible to be in the loving presence; the person who brought out that part of him he buried deep down in his graveyard of a soul, and gave it freedom to be again. The home actually started feeling like one, not a building he had a study and a bedroom in, but a place he could share with another, basking in the long-forgotten sensations, having his heart dance jigs and face soften in a tender gaze.

Many changes occurred, and, with some encouragement, he decided to bring back the tradition his father held in high regard, with only his sons' birthdays being more important to the late wine master.

The Winery is not as big as the family mansion used to be, but it is still enough space, with some of the furniture moved and the floor cleared, it can host many people. Besides, there is always a lovely outside with benches, and tables, and chairs, and it seems that Barbatos is kind to you, sending delightful weather as his gift.

Diluc is not a fan of social gatherings, however, he couldn't help but feel giddy when Adelinde exclaimed in elation at the prospect, be rather content when he saw happy smiles of the citizens - it's been a while since any proper celebration, and the monster rampage last month has been keeping everyone in a gloomy mood, and most importantly - he couldn't betray the trust and confidence his wife put into him.

…right. His wife. The ending to his reputation of the most eligible bachelor (not like he ever cared for the title), and the talk of the town for the past couple of weeks. Diluc Ragnvindr is a rather private man, and upon mutual agreement the wedding was private as well, with only few attending, and those few knew how to keep their mouths shut till the right time came. Or not, since one Cavalry Captain loves getting on the redhead's nerves and spilling some beans to the people who are willing to listen, and then not saying another word to create an intrigue.

So yes, this celebration is also a way to finally introduce the owner of the Dawn Winery's wife to the public, and put an end to all the speculations and maybe seal some lips that spew hatred towards the 'lucky woman', and there are a number of those.

You haven't been taking your eyes off the small group of nobles, standing almost in the middle of the first floor hall, loudly discussing the matter, inevitably drawing the attention of the ones not involved in the conversation, but standing rather close to them.

"I am telling you, she must be some dirty little thing, seducing our poor Master Diluc," the raven-haired tall man claims, elegantly holding a glass of dandelion wine in his long fingers. With his white and black clothes he reminds you of a dalmatian. Barking is almost identical too.

"You are right! She must be some commoner, too ashamed to show her face. If she was of a noble origin, the wedding would be grand and public," ah, and this bear-like looking man… you remember him - he was very active in trying to arrange a marriage of a very uninterested Diluc and his 17-year old daughter. You almost grimace at the thought.

"Oh yes! And we all know, that such well-known and ancient family as Ragnvindrs ought to have one of the noble daughters getting married into it," it is the first time you see this dramatically dressed woman, but even so you would've doubled in boisterous laughter if not the pretty dress Adelinde helped you lace an hour ago, that could potentially be ruined with the drink in your own glass.

You will yourself to tune them off for a moment and check on other guests. It quickly becomes clear that this conversation makes them uncomfortable. Some manage to entertain you though, by making fun of those nobles, parodying the pompous manner of their talking and snickering at that.

Nevertheless, one shall put an end to this idiocy.

"Afternoon, good sirs and ma'ams," the group direct their gazes at you, approaching them with a polite smile and a glass absent from your hand. "I've caught pieces of your conversation earlier, and couldn't help, but feel concerned."

The derogatory gaze the woman throws your way doesn't go unnoticed, but you simply choose to ignore it.

"Is that so?" The 'Dalmatian' hums, as if condescendingly. "Are you worried about Master Diluc as well, young lady? Such compassion is admirable."

"Oh, I hardly worry about Diluc," some eyes widen at your lack of his title acknowledgement, but you once again ignore it. "I am concerned about you. You know it's bad manners to berate a person in their own house? I'd really advise you to stop talking, especially about the matter you seem to know nothing about. Not to make bigger fools of yourselves at least."

"How dare you-" the woman you haven't heard talking before, but saw her nodding a lot, with those huge feathers in her hair waving with each tilt of her head, starts gasping because of your 'insult'. "How dare you speak to us like that! A servant must stay silent until asked to open their mouth!"

"I am not a servant here, nor anywhere else," the assumption doesn't surprise you, since all the maids were allowed to wear pretty outfits even while doing their job - after all it was a celebration honoring them as well, they help the Winery keep running.

"When who in the Archon's name are you-?"

"Y/n Ragnvindr," a deep soothing voice rings behind you, so loud and clear, that it immediately shuts all the sounds in the room.

Your lips curl in a wider smile, all the while holding the bewildered gaze of the woman who decided to pick a fight with you.

"Yes, dear?" His chest is now against your back and a hand, clad in a white glove, reaches for yours. "Are you done with welcoming our partners from Liyue?"

"Of course," the back of your hand is brought to his lips to leave a chaste kiss there, and only then you turn your head and catch a dangerous glint in those blood-colored eyes. He is pissed, but neutral face hardly betrays him. "I see we have a problem here."

"Mhm," you hum, not letting go of his hand and looking back at the tensed individuals, who were bad-mouthing you just minutes ago. "It surely isn't how we planned to reveal our marriage, but the situation called for it, I suppose."

"L-lady Ragnvindr, we didn't know-"

"Can these people be escorted out?" Your question interrupts her harshly, making her flinch. "They disturb other guests, and clearly do not know basic rules of respect."

"My dear wife," you can practically feel menace radiating off of his body, and voice dripping with smugness, "no need to ask me. That's your house as much as it's mine, and you contributed so much into organizing this event. So don't be shy to make your own decision."

"Well then," your smile gets even sweeter, contrary to your eyes that burn holes in their distasteful figures, "Get out."

Kaeya

"Hey pretty tits, hic! Argh, you come here often?"

You wouldn't think that a question like this was addressed to you, if the heavily smelling of alcohol man wasn't occupying the bar stool to your right, leaning forward in your direction. You slightly turn your head and suspiciously watch the swinging glass in his trembling hand, half full and threatening to spill the dark liquid. He really had too much tonight.

"...was that supposed to be a compliment?"

Leaning back to avoid any unfortunate outcome, you give him an unamused look, finished with an arched brow. From the corner of your eye you can't help but notice Charles staring at the man. It is nice to know your good acquaintance doesn't ignore the possible trouble a drunkard can cause another customer.

But you can handle it.

"It was!" He exclaims so happily, childishly proud that you acknowledged the fact. Should you tell him he sucks at it? And that there is only one man whose drunk flirty compliments you'll ever accept, and even in a state like that he would manage to be good, putting a smile on your face? Right now though, the urge to grimace is stronger.

"...thanks," I suppose?. "And yes, I come here often to spend the evening with my partner."

At that his face visibly falls and you turn away, assuming it is enough to cut the conversation short, and concentrate on savoring your first drink of the evening. You ordered it while waiting for one particular Cavalry Captain, and even though it's not strange for him to come later due to astronomically fast piling up paperwork, today he seems to be particularly busy. Maybe you should purchase a bottle and come to his quarters?

Just before you could do just that, there is a hand sliding over your right hip and a hot breath caressing the shell of your ear. You don't even flinch or freeze, recognizing the alluring presence immediately and leaning back into the firmness of his chest.

"You are late, Kaeya."

A soft chuckle and a kiss to the temple make it pretty clear that the azure-haired man cracked your fake rebuke on the spot, knowing that you are not one bit angry at him, but actually really happy to finally have him here.

"I apologize, princess," another kiss, this time to your cheek, "work's been a bit tough. But I am glad to finally be here with my woman."

"Youuurr?"

Ah, you completely forgot about the drunkard to your right.

Turning to look at Kaeya's reaction, you are stricken by the star-shaped pupil gazing right at you - he hasn't even glanced in the other man's direction, instead fixated on you completely. And that is making wonders to your poor heart.

"Who's that, snowflake?" His tone holds curiosity, but you know your lover, and you know when he is ready to be an ass. You shouldn't encourage this, however…

You'd love to see Kaeya Alberich tell the suitor off for you.

"No idea. But he said I have pretty tits."

He hums at that.

"True, but I would've aimed for that delicious butt. I am a simple man, after all."

You barely slap his hand in time, not nearly as drunk to start touching each other right here and right now. At your jab in his ribs he simply laughs heartily, settling his palm back onto your hip and momentarily redirecting his attention to the troublemaker who's been staring at you two throughout the whole exchange.

"You are not from here, are you?"

Only when your lover says that, do you decide to take in the other man's appearance. Indeed, if you were to look longer at him (not like you were interested) it would be easy to guess Fontaine as his land of origin.

"And what?" He straightens his back and puffs his chest as if trying to intimidate. What a rooster. "Does it prevent me from pursuing a pretty woman from another region?"

Oh, so now it's not simply one flirting remark, but a full-blown pursuit? How troublesome.

"Oh no, no, of course not," honey is dripping off those pretty lips, pulled into a smirk. "It's just that otherwise you'd know it's a bad tone to hit on someone's ex-girlfriend."

Confusion appears on the pursuer's face and you look inquiringly at Kaeya as well. The only answer you get is a wink and a mouthed request to order him a drink. Still perplexed, you nevertheless turn to Charles and ask him to make the Cavalry Captain the usual.

Meanwhile the man pulls his thoughts together.

"It's stupid! If she is your ex, then how does it not give me the right to date her? Ridiculous. Why do you even hold her like that!?"

The shouting gathers attention from other patrons - some were invested almost from the beginning, seeing how that unknown man tried to make a move on you, and snickering behind their mugs of alcohol at his unawareness of your relationship.

And Kaeya is all for the show. Many eyes watch as an elegant hand wraps around the glass of his favorite drink and brings it to the silent lips. It feels like everyone stopped breathing and the silence is pressuring, like a string ready to snap and reveal some shocking truth. You, on the other hand, roll your eyes at the male's love for theatrics and put an elbow onto the counter and lean your cheek into your open palm. This is going to be crushing, you almost feel sorry for the guy.

When the Cavalry Captain takes the third sip and sighs in delight - then, and only then, - he looks dead into the other man's eyes, so oppressively that he shrinks under the weight of this cold gaze.

"Maybe because she is my wife?"

If it was physically possible, the drunkard's jaw would hit the floor. The glass, he's been holding just seconds ago, however, follows its destiny, breaking from the impact with floorboards and ruining the prolonged silence and earning a grunt from the barman.

"S-she's what?"

"His wife," you raise your hand and show the ring, getting quite tired and wanting to save at least some of this man's dignity. "So, if you could, please, let us two have our date night. Uninterrupted."

Finally it seems to have him sobered up a little and he starts profusely apologizing to you, to Kaeya, to Charles, to Barbatos and Focalors, while digging his porch with mora out to pay for his drinks and minor damage he caused.

When he stumbles outside and the other patrons stop following the drama, you turn to a contently sipping on his wine Kaeya, who is excelling the nastiest grin on his face.

"Ex-girlfriend? Seriously? That's how you call your wife now?"

"Well, technically I am not wrong, right? Since you are not my girlfriend anymore," he shrugs his shoulders, finishing the last few gulps and putting the glass back onto the counter.

"Then the next time we meet new people I will introduce you as my ex-boyfriend. What? Technically you are," having his own words being thrown into his face makes Kaeya laugh, and he hugs you tightly, kissing the corner of your mouth.

"Deal. But only once, to make it even. I enjoy being called your husband way more."

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augustinewrites · 7 months

Text

satoru absolutely does not know how to ride a bike idk how i know this but i know cw: suggestive content, mdni

“that was…good,” satoru settles on, still unable to properly articulate. he whines, still a little lightheaded and breathless as you roll off of him with a laugh, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before tucking yourself into his side.

“just good?” you tease, fingertips gliding over his chest. “if i’d known there was going to be a review, i’d have done that thing with my hips that you like.”

you roll your hips against his thigh, sending a warm chill down satoru’s spine.

“don’t do that,” he warns, but his face is flushed and he can feel himself getting hard again. “unless you want to leave the kids at your dad’s for another night.”

“oh! speaking of the kids!” your sweet movements stop abruptly, causing him to peek one eye open to send you a long suffering look. “my father bought the kids bikes yesterday, and i told him you’d teach them how to ride them.”

now, it’s no secret that gojo satoru is good at a lot of things.

he can manipulate the infinity around him and exorcise special grade curses with the flick of his wrist. he knows the words to every avicii song and can make mug cakes that don’t always explode in the microwave.

there’s only one thing he can’t do.

“i remember when my dad taught me,” you sigh. there’s a fondness in your eyes as you describe the memory. it’s something special and cherished, and satoru wants that for his kids.

_____

“this isn’t funny, shoko!”

“you’re right.”

“thank you—”

“because it’s hilarious. gojo satoru, the strongest sorcerer of our time, never learned how to ride a bicycle.”

she trails off in a fit of laughter. satoru hasn’t heard her laugh like this in a long time, and he’d be ecstatic if her amusement hadn’t come at his expense.

“i didn’t have anyone willing to teach me!” he tells her, huffing. “it was all cursed technique this and cursed technique that. not to mention bikes are literal death traps on wheels.”

“motorcycles are death traps on wheels. bicycles are for babies,” she corrects, though he can still hear the laughter bubbling in her response. “why’d you even agree to teach them?”

“because she did this super hot thing with her hips, but focus!” he whispers harshly. “i can’t teach the kids how to ride a bike! what if i just bought a car—”

“only you would try to buy a car for an 11 year old.”

“not for megumi. tsumiki’s basically 13. she can start learning so when she’s old enough—”

“so tsumiki is going to learn how to drive before you learn how to ride a bike? you are so tragic,” she snickers.

well, it sounds lame when she puts it like that.

he looks up when the sound of the shower running stops. “and you’re useless,” he growls into the phone. “i’ll ask nanami.”

_____

NOT GOJO

[shoko]: i heard gojo’s teaching the kids how to ride their bikes

[you]: yeah :) i’m so excited!

[shoko]: me too.

[shoko]: can you send videos?

[nanami]: I would also like to see videos.

[you]: sure. but why the interest?

[shoko]: bcs i care about them and want to celebrate their achievements

[you]: you didn’t come to megumi’s violin recital because you said you valued your eardrums.

[nanami]: It will be a fun moment to look back on when they’re older.

[shoko] yeah that ^

[you]: fine i’ll send videos.

______

the sun is just beginning to set and the city beginning to settle when you take the kids to the park.

“i really think—”

“satoru, we are not teaching megumi how to teleport to school.”

“but if he uses the shadows—”

you thrust a helmet into his hands, stern look shutting him up immediately.

“fuck,” he mumbles once your back is turned to help the kids. he shoves the helmet onto his head and buckles it tightly.

the kids walk over to him with their little bikes, the huge helmets on their head making them look like bobble heads.

you document his torture with a quick photo before giving him the floor.

“riding a bike is…super simple,” he tells them, patting the seat of your bike. “you get on, put your feet on the pedals, and…pedal.”

the kids only stare at him, confused looks on their cute faces.

“maybe you should just show them,” you suggest.

“why don’t you show them?” he quickly deflects. please please please—

“no! i’m taking the video!”

fuck.

satoru grips the handles of the bike tightly. he’s faced the worst of the worst, died and come back to life. he could ride a stupid bike.

he kicks at the stand your bike is leaning on, getting it up on the fourth kick. he swings his right leg over so he’s straddling the seat, his feet planted firmly on the ground.

it can’t be that hard, can it?

“watch and learn, kids.”

he takes a breath, then pushes off and places his feet on the pedals.

the bike rolls forward slowly. it’s wobbly at best, but he’s doing it. he’s doing it! he picks up a little momentum, heading off into the sunset—

“satoru! don’t lead them downhill!”

sure enough, the path in front of him leads down a slight decline. he squeezes the brakes and jerks to the side, sending him toppling over the bike and into the grass.

as he lays in the grass, dazed, megumi and tsumiki bike right past him. he’s sure the former even rolls his eyes.

“they have training wheels,” he says when you run over to check on him. “they’re cheating—”

“do you not know how to ride a bike?!”

“i never learned,” he grumbles, cheeks blushing at the admission.

“oh, honey,” you sigh, brushing some grass from his shirt. “why didn’t you just tell me?”

you kiss his brow, unable to hold back your laughter as he pouts. “you were so excited about me teaching them. didn’t want to disappoint anyone.”

“you could never disappoint us,” you tell him firmly. “now come on, i’ll teach all three of you.”

so you teach him, holding onto the back of his bike until he’s steady, until he’s confident enough to do it on his own.

he’ll get the hang of it eventually.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #keeping up with the fushigojos

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andypantsx3 · 1 month

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𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike. All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother, steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 5.7k | chapter 1 of 4

Then

It was a freezing day in spring the first time you set foot in the Todoroki house.

You had shared a class with Touya for years now, and in that time you’d become something of his best friend. You’d bonded early over a mutual hatred of fish and your status as the two best tree climbers on the playground—two integral friendship quality bars if ever you’d met them—and your entente had strengthened over the following months.

After enough time together Touya had even seemed to like you, seeking out your opinion, deploying you like a shield between himself and the other kids. He wanted to be paired with you for group projects constantly, as he seemed to disdain the ability of the other kids in your class.

He eventually acquiesced to two other friends—Rumi and Keigo—as Keigo was a really fast runner, and Rumi could kick a kid almost clear across a playground. But the two of you remained particularly close, and a few years in, Touya had seemed to want to check the final box of your friendship.

That was the day he’d haughtily informed you that you were coming home with him.

You’d phoned your mother from the school office to obtain permission, and then pulled your jacket on to follow Touya out into the cold, his skinny legs beating a quick path through the streets.

You’d half-expected that Touya lived in a box behind a shop, with the way he descended ravenously on his lunches (as well as yours, and Rumi’s, when he could occasionally get them—though notably not Keigo’s, something that had only retroactively made sense to you as an adult). But the house Touya steered you to was enormous—easily the biggest house you’d ever seen—a stately pile at the end of a fancy neighborhood.

You’d later learn this was because his father was the mayor, and the Todorokis were neck-deep in generational wealth. At the time you’d been mildly annoyed, because what had you let him eat part of your lunches for if he lived in a house like this?

“I’m home,” Touya had called into the echoey foyer, grand but strangely barren. He’d kicked off his coat and shoes, discarding them carelessly—perhaps purposefully—on the floor, then gestured for you to follow him into the kitchen as a warm voice called out to him. “Welcome home, Touya.”

“I brought Y/N,” he announced grandly as he prowled into the room. To you he said, “This is my mother, Rei.”

The voice you’d heard resolved itself into a woman, tall, with beautiful long white hair and a small, but unmistakably fond smile on her mouth. You startled, immediately floored by her beauty. She looked just like Touya, the same delicate prettiness to her mouth, the shape of her eyes—but even lovelier. She looked simultaneously like she belonged on the cover of a magazine, and would be embarrassed by one saying so.

She also smelled like an omega—sweet, but a little wilder than you were used to. Like spring flowers blooming on a cold day.

“Hello Y/N,” she said warmly, turning to you. You gave a shy wave back, suddenly nervous in front of her.

As she turned you finally noticed the child on her hip—a small, round, pudgy little thing with half red and half white hair, and two mismatched grey and blue eyes that pinned on you immediately. It was wearing a horrendous polkadot onesie, and you felt your eyebrows raise without your permission.

“That’s Shouto,” Touya informed you, and the pieces slotted together in your brain. Ah, so that was the face to the name.

Shouto was the little brother Touya complained about incessantly—the one that was his father’s favorite, the one that stared too much and wanted to play with all of Touya’s toys even though he was too little for them, the one Touya was saddled with babysitting constantly. He’d made Shouto out to be this sort of tiny harbinger of evil—but Shouto did not look very evil, perched there on his mother’s hip.

He blinked at you, a flutter of surprisingly long eyelashes, for a baby. You had the thought that actually he was kind of cute. Most probably not a harbinger of evil, and actually very sweet-looking, if weirdly round.

“I need to be excused from Shouto duty,” Touya said, the question posed more like a statement.

Rei shook her head, a somber little smile playing about her mouth. “I have to make dinner before Fuyumi and Natsuo get back from their playdates and your father gets home. Why don’t you take Shouto to play with you and Y/N?”

Touya rolled his eyes in the long-suffering manner of a man who’d endured it all. Shouto didn’t seem to notice, however, his mismatched gaze barely detaching from your face. You noticed Shouto’s left eye was the exact vivid blue of Touya’s, and his other eye the same silver as his mother’s.

“He’s staring like a weirdo,” Touya complained, but collected Shouto from Rei anyway. Shouto let himself be passed over as placidly as a bag of potatoes, still watching you.

“Y/N is a new face for him, he’s just curious, Touya,” Rei said, smoothing Shouto’s hair down as Touya hefted him in his arms. Shouto reached out a hand towards you, fat fingers flexing.

“What, you think I’m some taxi service who’s gonna bring you wherever you want to go?” Touya demanded. Shouto ignored him, his little chubby arm wavering.

Strangely, something compelled you to step closer, reaching out a hand in return. Shouto seized it in his pudgy little fist, staring up at you with solemn eyes. His other hand reached out to you, too, twisting in Touya’s grip, and Touya let out an annoyed scoff.

“Y/N didn’t come here to hang out with you,” he said. But Shouto ignored him, his little hand fisting in your tee shirt. He seemed to be trying to lever himself up out of Touya’s arms and into yours.

You were startled, never having held a baby before, and Shouto was kind of a big one. But Touya showed you how to hold him under his butt and across his back, and you heard the rustle of his diaper as he was handed off to you.

“Hi Shouto,” you said, watching him watch you.

His eyebrows raised, some small happiness lighting up his expression, and he gave a little kick that wiggled his whole body in your arms.

“He likes you,” Rei said over the counter top, as she settled a cutting board and a pile of vegetables across it.

You looked back at Shouto, feeling weirdly pleased. Maybe babies weren’t that bad.

Touya made an annoyed sort of grunt, stomping past you. “We’re going to play in the living room,” he announced imperiously. You glanced at Rei to make sure that was okay, then followed Touya, Shouto heavy in your arms.

By the time you arrived, Shouto had settled a hand on either of your cheeks and seemed to be trying to stare directly into your soul, and Touya patted him firmly on the back, clucking. “Stop being such a little freak.”

“He’s fine,” you said, bemused. No one had told you really little kids were this intense and weird. But Shouto’s little round face was kind of sweet, and it was hard to be annoyed at a baby staring up at you, that clearly enamored.

“Actually he’s being way nicer to me than you,” you told Touya.

Touya rolled his eyes and busied himself pulling out a horde of action figures, legos, puzzles, and games, as well as a turtle with multi-colored blocks set into it that appeared to be for Shouto.

“Oi, it’s turtle time, weirdo,” he told Shouto.

That seemed to break the baby’s singular focus on you, and he peered around, lighting up nearly the same way when he saw his blocks as he had when he’d seen you. You laughed, and helped him settle on the floor next to you, watching his clumsy, chubby grip fumble on the blocks as he carefully removed them one-by-one from the plastic turtle.

Touya set up the legos around you, an older parallel of his brother, though you thought he would kill you for saying so.

A block appeared in your lap, carefully and deliberately placed by a fat-fingered hand. You smiled down at Shouto, picking it up and gesturing grandly. “For me?”

A grey-and-blue gaze attached itself solemnly to your face, as if awaiting your judgment, and an instant fondness swept over you. Who knew babies could be this cute—when they weren’t screaming and crying and generally being small and annoying near you. Touya had massively undersold his little brother, who was the sweetest baby you’d ever encountered.

You bowed your head, clutching your gifted block close to you. “Thank you, Shouto. It’s very nice.”

Shouto stared up at you, smiling a shy little almost-smile, clearly pleased. You couldn’t help but reach up and ruffle that distinct tuft of hair, taken with him already. Yep, definitely a good little kid.

And you decided then and there that you liked Todoroki Shouto—though for now he was a child—you both were children—and he could only mean so much to you.

You wouldn’t realize how much he’d actually come to mean to you, until many, many years later.

Now

Touya’s white mess of hair was the first thing you spotted as you stumbled into the restaurant.

Outside it was unseasonably cold, an icy wind tearing through you as you’d rushed all the way from your mother’s house. The inside of the restaurant was blessedly warm, and slightly smoky from the meat and vegetables grilling away on each table top. Touya was on the far side, and you could see Rumi’s white hair beyond him, Keigo’s blonde riot of waves peeking over the top of the booth next to him.

Rumi faced the door so she spotted you first, a mouth-splitting grin overtaking her face as she waved you down.

You hurried your way over, letting out a surprised hrrk! when Rumi drew you down into a rib-crushing hug, her alpha strength barely contained. You fell into the seat at an awkward angle, your joints screaming.

“Well look what the cat dragged in! You don’t look a bit changed, you little beta cuck,” she crowed, making you choke on a laugh as you almost inhaled a mouthful of her hair.

“Rumi—!” you sputtered, half-pleased and half-scandalized that she clearly hadn’t changed in the years since you’d seen her last. She crushed you to her harder, and you could feel your eyeballs all but bulging like a rubber doll.

“If you plan to crush her to death you could at least wait until I clear the scene,” came Touya’s disaffected drawl from the other side of the table. “The last thing I need is police on my case again.”

That was so typical of him, too, after all this time.

“Good to see you too, Touya,” you said, even though you couldn’t get a look at him through Rumi’s hair. She ground her knuckles into the top of your head for good measure before releasing you, and you came up for air gratefully, watching the two men on the other side of the table grin at you.

Keigo looked exactly as you’d left him, a little bit more filled out than the skinny teen he’d been, the same wiry facial scruff growing in, those golden eyes alight with typical playfulness. Touya looked like he’d aged the most, his scars—fresher when you’d graduated—now deepened to the color of dark bruises. His features were still achingly familiar under them, however, the fine-boned prettiness of his mother shining through, his father’s blazing cerulean eyes the only nod to the other half of his parentage.

“So you really obeyed mommy dearest huh,” Touya said, pinning you with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes at him. As your closest childhood friend, he still knew all your weak spots, your mother the biggest of them. Growing up she’d been lonely and overworked, and you’d tried to care for her and please her the best you could. You still called her several times a week and sent back your wages to help pay for the house, and pay down the pile of debt your father had left her in when he’d died.

The concession of returning home for a few days to attend the annual mating run, as pointless as it was going to be, was the least you could do for her.

“You know as well as I do that no one is going to run down a beta,” you said, settling yourself in next to Rumi and shedding your coat and hat. “Especially not now that I’m well past newly-presented. It’ll be like a vacation.”

“You never know,” Keigo said, raising his fluffy eyebrows at you, his grin wicked. You flung the pile of your things across the table at him, but he intercepted easily, all alpha reflex. He stuffed your jacket down next to him, laughing at you.

“I do know,” you said emphatically. “And I’m not fussed about it. I don’t know who she thinks is going to pay her bills if I’m off getting dicked down by some knothead idiot.”

Touya made a dismissive noise and you looked around the table for something to fling at him too. He’d never had to worry about money, his future shored up with the Todoroki family fortune, built over generations and then basically quadrupled by his father. Since coming out of the correctional facility for a string of petty crimes, Touya had been skating by on family generosity, and you knew he wasn’t about to stop.

“Just burn her house down like mine,” he said, an unholy grin overtaking his face as he leaned forward. There was a light behind his eyes like he wasn’t entirely kidding. No one had ever been able to determine if the Todoroki family fire had been an accident or not, although Touya claimed it had been.

But you’d known Touya your whole life and you had your suspicions. Touya had hated his father for nearly all of your living memory—and the Todoroki men had an almost disturbing single-mindedness about them. You had long wondered if Touya’s fixation on his break with Enji had ever played into the fire that ravaged their house during your middle school years.

The one exception to the Todoroki single-mindedness was sweet little Shouto, who you’d last seen at your high school graduation. He was several years younger than you and had still been round-faced and chubby-cheeked then, all wide solemn eyes and pouty little mouth, just like when he was a baby.

You hadn’t seen him since, but couldn’t imagine Shouto turning out anything like Touya.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” you said to Touya, not liking how his grin widened.

Purportedly he’d come out of the correctional facility for good behavior, his record squeaky clean.

Purportedly.

“So why even agree to the run?” Rumi asked. “If you’re not looking to actually take anyone home?”

You helped yourself to the water that had been laid out before answering. “It’s just easier to appease my mother. She gets what she wants—some indication I’m open to my life mate-–and I get what I want, which is to be able to use this as an excuse next year.”

“Aww you won’t come back to see little old us?” Keigo asked. His tone was wheedling but his eyes tracked your expression carefully, always observing.

You smiled at him. You did miss your old friends, and you liked how easy it felt to sink right back into them after so many years away. You wanted to see them outside of the confines of a group chat or the rare facetime.

And you missed a lot about the town you’d grown up in. You liked the tiny storefronts of the downtown shops and the easy access to the coast and miles of hiking trails. You’d had a dream of opening up a little bookstore in one of the lovely brick buildings downtown when you were younger—but that was back before the staggering number of dollar signs on your mother’s bills had made themselves known to you and the romance of your daydream had begun to seem more like foolishness.

The bigger cities offered the bigger jobs, the bigger wages to send home. Even if it meant you could only see your friends every few years and mostly kept in touch via group chat.

“How about you guys come to me?” you asked. “There’s a chicken place I think Keigo will want to make the trip for.”

Keigo’s grin widened and he leaned in, interested. “Say no more,” he drawled.

On the table top, Touya’s phone vibrated. He peered at it, dismissing the notification with a swipe. “Rei wants to see you,” he reported, the usual blend of disrespect and unwilling fondness for his own mother layered in his voice. “She says you should come by the house.”

You smiled, pleased to be remembered. “I’d love that. Who’s living there now?”

Touya stretched, his back brushing the booth. “I do. And she does. Enji visits sometimes—” his tone was pointedly colorless “—and Fuyumi and Natsuo come by a couple times a week. Shouto is there almost daily for dinner when he’s not on shift, because his own cooking is absolute shit.”

You blinked, struggling to reconcile the idea of sweet-faced little Shouto with an adult who lived on his own now. “On shift?” you asked.

“He’s a fireman,” Touya rolled his eyes. “Little fucking do gooder. Ever since the house fire he’s wanted to.”

Your eyelashes fluttered again, your brain floating with the images of skinny, round-faced Shouto struggling to haul people out of a burning building. You struggled not to voice this disbelief.

“Wow, good for him,” you said.

“Not for me,” Touya complained. “Ever since he’s presented he’s been eating us out of house and home. Can’t find a fucking thing in the cabinets after he’s been through—”

And that shocked you, too, the idea that Shouto was already grown enough to have presented.

Objectively you knew he had to be into his early twenties at this point, but hearing the changes life had wrought on him was almost too much to contemplate. You wondered what he had presented as, and whether he’d be subject to the run this week as well. You’d always sort of suspected he’d be an omega, with that wide-eyed, beautiful face—almost a carbon copy of his mother’s, the same delicate prettiness in it as Touya.

And he’d been so sweet, too. When you’d been much, much younger—before Touya had become too cool and too emo for it—you remembered playing house together, remembered how often you’d dragged Shouto in to play the part of your son. He’d always sat there, a chubby-faced toddler, smashing blocks together and staring up at you with big eyes as you and Touya made plastic food and Touya unrolled a days-old newspaper collected from his father, bossing you around from his armchair.

Even when Shouto had gotten older and started to get as fresh with Touya as Touya was with him, he’d always been nice to you, always watched you with those same wide, mismatched eyes.

Yeah. He was most probably an omega.

“Well I’d love to see Rei, and Natsuo and Fuyumi and Shouto,” you said.

Touya stretched in the booth, not minding Keigo and thumping him right across the chest. Keigo squawked in annoyance.

“I’ll tell Rei you’re coming for dinner,” Touya said.

You smiled, pleased. You knew what a huge deal it was for both Touya and Rei to be in the same house again—both in recovery, both sharing the same space again.

When you’d left, Rei had been hospitalized and Touya had already been knee deep in petty crimes and utterly disinterested in any sort of overtures of help. For them to both be together again, getting regular help, with Enji out of the house and a rotating string of their family members checking in on them—you were happy to see them healing.

The buoyant feeling lasted all the way through lunch and too many drinks, until Touya shepherded you out of the restaurant, blazing a familiar path towards his family home. You followed, gratified when you saw that the Todoroki house was just as you remembered it, even the rebuilt pieces nostalgic.

Its grandness had been a shock to you as a child—not only in comparison to the tiny, squashed little two bed you’d grown up in—but that Touya had grown up there, in so vast and elegant a space. Touya who you dug in the dirt with. Touya who picked bugs out of the mud and put them on you. Touya who turned his nose up at dolls and ate things right out of your lunch box without asking, like he was a starving child without any access to food.

The house said otherwise.

Touya treated the Todoroki mansion with the same pointed lack of care he had as a teenager, kicking in the door as he led you inside, throwing his things in a pile in the entry. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, fondly nostalgic over his shithead behavior.

“You missed a spot—I think there’s a bare patch of floor over there,” you said.

Touya gave you a narrow-eyed gaze over his shoulder as he uttered a string of objects you might suck.

You raised your eyebrows at him, smiling and unbothered. He’d always said it was your beta nature that left you unfussed with his various attitudes, taking everything in stride. You didn’t know if that was true—you’d always sort of suspected it was the strange, inherent connection you felt to him, and to the Todoroki family at large that kept you fond of him, even as he descended into teenage fury.

You didn’t know what it was, as you’d not ever felt it with your other friends’ families who you’d spent nearly as much time with. But if it netted you a lifelong friend, you weren’t about to question it.

Rei was in the kitchen like she had been that first day Touya brought you home, an enormous expanse of marble counter and vaulted ceiling that made her look unfathomably small. Her snow white hair had been cropped short into a page boy cut and made her look younger than her years, especially when she glanced up at you with the very same smile she had when you were a child.

“Welcome back, Y/N,” she said. You bowed respectfully, Touya scoffing and grabbing the back of the collar to haul you up.

“She’s not the fucking prime minister,” he grunted.

“And you’re not the boss of me,” you sniped, the drinks you’d both shared at lunch making you a little looser tongued in front of Rei than you’d have liked.

“Shouto will be by in just a few minutes as well, and he’ll be so happy to see you,” Rei said, smiling gently.

“Shouto lives on his own?” you asked, curious. Aside from picturing him as the skinny preteen you’d last seen him as, you also had trouble imagining kind, sweet little Shouto leaving his mother on her own—and with Touya definitely counted as on her own, for all the help he was. Shouto seemed devoted, familial.

“He’s wanted his own space since he presented,” Rei said lightly, clearly unbothered.

It was rare for omegas to peel off from their family units before finding a mate, and the strangeness of striking out on his own struck you even further. Maybe he wanted a nest to bring someone back to, after finding the right person?

You wondered if he was going to be participating in this year’s mating run, and made a mental note to try and find out if he wanted help avoiding any undesirable alphas. If he was an omega, your beta scent would help disguise some of his tracks, you’d just have to follow in his footsteps far enough away from the main track that a ranging alpha wouldn’t accidentally stumble upon it.

That thought was cut short, however, by the sound of the door creaking open in the foyer you’d just come in from. There was the sound of rustling fabric, like someone shedding their coat, and then footsteps padded through the hall. A hint of a scent met your nose, slightly sweet and smoky, with an undercurrent of something fresh—like a campfire burning on a cold, clear day. Your brow furrowed, the frostiness an almost-familiar dimension, like Rei's cold widlflower scent. Who was—?

Then a tall, unfamiliar alpha poked his head through the door, fluffy red and white strands of hair tangling across his forehead. He was an arresting sight—easily the most beautiful person you had ever seen, every single one of his features so perfectly and evenly placed, like he'd been put together deliberately. He looked startlingly like Rei, if Rei were a man, except for the fiery blue of his left eye, the shock of scarlet hair above it.

You stared at this new interloper, confused, until you were seized with a sudden memory of that scar, that same mop of hair bent over a turtle-shaped block puzzle.

No. No fucking way.

Rei smiled, opening her arms, and you gaped after him as Todoroki Shouto prowled across the kitchen to her, enveloping her in a hug. Where Touya was taller than his mother, his baby brother almost dwarfed her, easily clearing six feet, his shoulders broad and his frame packed with dense muscle. He'd always had the same elegant, sweetly beautiful set to his features that his mother and Touya did, but there was something sharper about them now, a slightly more alpha edge to him.

An enormous bicep shifted against the sleeve of his t-shirt as Shouto held Rei, and suddenly it was very clear how Shouto had managed to become a firefighter.

Something pinched your arm, hard, and you whipped around to stare at Touya accusingly. “Ouch!”

He smirked. “Don’t fucking stare like he does.”

You scowled at him, and opened your mouth to say something unsavory, until two mismatched eyes turned on you, pinning you in place.

“Y/N,” Shouto said. His voice was deep as midnight—so much lower than you had remembered—careful and smooth. The sound of it slithered up your spine like a shiver.

“Shouto?” you answered, stepping closer. “You’re Shouto? Are you sure?”

Shouto released his mother, only the tiniest corner of his mouth twitching. And that was confirmation enough. Shouto had always been a little serious, watching you carefully and intently. He was most like his mother that way—withdrawn, a little bit solemn.

“As far as I am aware,” he said. His tone was flat but you heard the tease in it, regardless. And that was so like him too, couching his inner little shit under the most serious tone, under those earnest heterochromatic eyes.

“Wish he wasn’t,” Touya muttered.

“Oh my god, Shouto. You’ve grown up so much,” you said, a strange thrill zinging up your spine as he stepped closer. That scent like campfire on a cold day washed over you, making you a little dizzy.

Shouto’s eyes got a little bit round at the edges, and something pulled at the corner of his mouth again, an expression you didn’t recognize. His tone was soft as he observed, “You are exactly the same as I remember.”

You could tell he meant it kindly, so you chose not to be offended with his obvious tact. You were well aware you were not a fresh-faced high school graduate anymore.

“I’m definitely older than you remember,” you said, resisting the urge to poke him in the chest. Your hand felt magnetized toward it for some reason. “Don’t be surprised if you hear my bones creaking all the way from the preserve during the run.”

Something sudden and strange passed over Shouto’s face, those mismatched eyes narrowing in on you.

“You’re running,” he said, his tone suddenly flat. “This year.”

“Yeah I’m back in town for it,” you said, ignoring Touya’s scoff at your side. “Gotta appease my mother. She doesn’t get that betas aren’t the target crowd for this, nevermind ancient ones. That, and I plan to disappear up a tree if someone so much as sniffs in my direction.”

“Up a tree,” Shouto repeated, sounding contemplative.

You wondered if he was internalizing how weird you were. He probably wouldn’t have remembered you being weird, considering how younger kids never thought to question their older peers. Maybe he’d even thought you cool when you were growing up together—you’d quickly disabuse him of that notion.

You nodded. “I’ve only been followed by alphas twice and both times I lost them up that big willow overlooking the bay, if you take the seaside path out two miles?”

Shouto’s eyes tracked you closely, like he was committing every word to memory. “I know it.”

You smiled. “The sea breeze is just enough to hide a beta’s scent, once you’re out of sight up there. I hope the city life hasn’t gotten me too out of shape to get up the trunk. Though to be frank I’m not too worried about it this year. Are you running?”

“Yes,” Shouto said, so quickly that it looked like he’d startled himself.

Touya’s head whipped around to stare at him, and Rei’s eyelashes fluttered momentarily, a weird stillness overcoming her—until a sort of look of understanding came over her features. You thought you caught a hint of a smile as she ducked her head to return to her dinner preparations.

“Thought you said you weren’t interested,” Touya said, his tone accusing. “You’ve never run before.”

Shouto looked deeply unfussed by his older brother’s sudden consternation. “Perhaps I have changed my mind.”

“The hell you did,” Touya said snottily. “You said you knew you wouldn’t find your life mate there.”

“Perhaps that has changed too,” Shouto said, his tone so dry that you could tell he was purposefully needling Touya. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Brothers.

Touya’s scoff overlaid the thump of Rei’s knife as she returned to chopping, and you realized how rude it looked for the three of you to be standing there arguing while she was working.

You hurriedly stepped around Touya and Shouto, peering over Rei’s shoulder. For some reason you were hyperaware of Shouto as you passed him, a thought you shoved right back out of your mind as you approached Rei. “Is there anything I can help with? I feel like I have years of free dinners to pay you back for.”

“I am almost done, but thank you, Y/N,” Rei said, as Touya said something in a haughty tone of voice, and Shouto’s low baritone answered. Rei’s mouth quirked softly at this—and you realized it was the same way Shouto smiled, small and private.

“—Not bringing home some weird fucking omega,” Touya was saying when you turned back to the boys. You startled when you realized Shouto had shifted to face you instead of his brother, and his body language looked like he was mostly ignoring him.

You channeled your sudden laugh into a fake cough. Touya eyed you sourly, long used to your tricks.

“Well if you want any help on the run, let me know,” you told Shouto, cutting into their argument with the practice of a beta used to diffusing things, especially between Touya and others. Shouto’s mouth twitched again like he knew what you were doing, and you watched his eyes pick over you speculatively.

You marveled at how far back you had to tilt your head if you wanted to look him directly in the eye now. He was so big, and so unexpectedly handsome—he really had grown up well. Some omega was going to be very, very pleased at the end of this week, provided he really did go after someone.

“If it’s your first you probably won’t know all the best hiding spots,” you told him.

Not that they were really hiding spots, considering most omegas wanted to be found. And there was no one on this earth who wouldn’t want to be found by an alpha who looked like Shouto did now. But he’d probably want to make sure he got to his intended first, before any other alpha found them.

Shouto nodded, leaning forward conspiratorially. “I will take you up on that,” his tone was low, intimate.

You smiled up at him, though something weird twinged in your chest. “Lunch sometime this week then? I’ll walk you through everything.”

Touya made a noise of disgust, and you shushed him. Shouto’s smile pulled into a quarter-moon sliver, sweet and beautiful. “I would like that.”

A strange little thrill zinged down your spine. You very pointedly did not think about it, instead shooting Shouto a thumbs up. And then, seized by a sudden need to get away, you marched forward to grab Touya by his collar, dragging him out into the dining room.

“Do you have to make your mother do everything? Let’s set the table,” you ordered him, shoving him at the cabinets. Touya swore at you, trying to twist his lanky body out of your hands, spitting like a wet cat.

But your mind was already elsewhere, occupied by this strange new turn of events. It really had been a long time away from your hometown, and much more had changed than you realized. You’d missed seeing Touya start to recover his life, you’d missed Rei returning to herself, you’d missed Shouto growing up into a man—and an alpha. You were suddenly overcome by the feeling that you did not want to miss any more, did not want to leave again—though of course that was foolishness.

The run was less than a week away, and you had train tickets back into the city just after.

And you had your mom to provide for, much as she wanted you to settle down with the first rando who got handsy with you in the woods. An alpha would have to bring more than an interest in you to your coupling in order to win you—and that was not going to happen, especially not to a beta, and especially not to you.

You laid the dishes out, resolving yourself. You’d enjoy this week, but never lose sight of the fact that you’d still have to leave at the end of it.

After all, it wasn’t like some miraculous twist of fate was lurking just around the corner of the Todoroki kitchen, ready to change your life.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #shouto x you #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #todoroki x y/n #shouto x y/n #todoroki shouto imagine #bnha x reader #andie's writing #character: todoroki shouto

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androgynealienfemme · 10 months

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"We go from store to store, trying to things on and inspecting them. I give my opinions on dresses and shoes, blouses and lipstick colors. Sometimes I say things that make the other women look at me, agape, as though my mouth has been possessed by that flighty queen from Queer Eye even while the rest of my body still looks like any other big dumb boy's. I say that I like a skirt but I wish it were bias-cut instead of A-line, or that I am not fond of the fashion for surplice tops, or that the post-WWII idiom in shoes this season is amusing but rarely looks good on actual feet, or that I like the look of a bolero jacket. I know the names of colors, heliotrope and coral and Nile blue, and I can say without hesitation whether a lipstick might look better matte with a bit of powder.

These other women look at me with wonder, their boyfriends and husbands having made a fetish out of refusing to learn such words under any circumstances, as though merely pronouncing the word "periwinkle" or "princess seam" could easily turn a strong man gay as a box of birds. They say to her, "That's your husband?" in voices that loiter between admiring and disgusted, as though they know that there's no force on earth that could make their men or boys take such interest in their clothing and they think they might really prefer that to the spectacle of me, filling an armchair, legs crossed ankle over knee, looking just right until I say "tea length."

The point is that she wants other girls to see what it looks like to have a boy so cracy in love with you, as I am, that he will spend an afternoon talking about capri pants to have a boy so delighted by you that he never calls you by your name, but addresses you always as "beautiful girl," or "my love" or occasionally and with great fondness, "boss." To have a boy who will happily fetch your next-size-down and carry your bags and charm the salesclerks at the register without flirting overmuch and just generally try to make himself as useful as possible, all for the dizzy and undying pleasure of making you happy. And even though I am not a boy, I look like one, and so I can be complicit with her in this kind of wonderful afternoon, part indulgence of her great beauty and style, part guerilla feminist activism.

Later, when we walk through the mall or down the sidewalk, me laden with packages that are clearly hers, I watch the eyes of the people we pass: the women who look at me with a certain longing, wishing they had their own boys to carry the bags. The men who look at her with an unmistakable hunger, wishing that they had the honor of schlepping for a girl like her, and then look at me with a certain edge of disbelief, not quite clear about why I get to squire this marvelous example of femininity around when they are clearly wealthier, more handsome, better hung. I have learned to meet all of these gazes with a calm kind of sweetness. There's no point in defensiveness or sheepishness or challenge. I'm the one holding her bags."

"Being a Shopping Switch” Butch is a Noun essays by S. Bear Bergman (2006)

#butch is a noun #s. bear bergman #lesbian lit #butch lit #lesbian #lesbianism #butch lesbian #butch 4 femme #butch4femme #butch for femme #femme #butch #femme lesbian #feminism

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crystalflygeo · 8 months

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Mark of an Archon ft. Venti / Zhongli / Ei / Focalors / Nahida / Neuvillette + gn!reader

cw/tags: Mostly suggestive but nsfw in some parts (mostly Zhongli, Neuvillette) marking, kissing.

notes: Alright so... this is different from anything I've written before but I got inspired by the concept of the elemental symbols used as marks by the Archons to denote those important to them. Just short fluffy little dabbles I guess, first time writing everyone except the dragon men heh. I tried REALLY HARD to keep this gender neutral and be inclusive in descriptions but regardless, reader bottoms lmao. Hope y'all like it. (Y'all will NEVER guess where did I get the inspiration for all the marks' placements hehe) Edit: Y'all I have never played obey me WHEEZE the marks placement actually comes from a very old magical girl anime I loved as a kid XDDDD (except geo, it was on the belly button but-//hit)

It is said that the Archons place a mark on the body of their loved ones. A symbol of protection, perhaps of “ownership”, imbued with their elemental energy. Legends has it that they remain mostly invisible to the naked eye, glowing brightly only when the Archon in question touches it, but leaving behind a distinctive trace able to be identified with elemental sight.

However, none of this has been proven at all, and remains mostly as a fantastic tale, just a rumor…

Or is it?

-Barbatos

Venti’s mark rests between your shoulder blades, the small Anemo sigil emulating tiny wings in the most appropriate of places. It makes him fond of calling you his “angel”, though, you know it cannot compare to his own real wings... it makes your heart flutter nonetheless.

It remains mostly covered, and yet without fail, Venti’s hand would always gently rest on it before his hand slides over to your shoulder or waist. At this point the touch soothes you and you’ve come to expect it every time you enter Angel’s share and bright Aqua eyes land on you.

In the dark of night, those precious moments of closeness and passion among the bedsheets, Venti’s nimble fingers, calloused by the Lyre and the bow alike, trail along your spine and stop at the mark, before he leans in and places a kiss on it.

For the God of Freedom to brand someone like this… it would seem as a contradiction, but you know it to be his blessing, his vow to you and your love. As his lips go up to your shoulder and his hands slide down to your waist, sneaking between your legs, he closes his eyes and hums a soft tune.

-Morax

The Geo mark is found on a rather unusual place, and to tell the truth, it even embarrassed you a little at first. The golden diamond placed just below your navel, partially hidden by the line of your underwear. When asked about it, Zhongli simply murmured something about dragon mating, fertility or virility… his cheeks dusted red.

You admit though, that once you get used to it, you do find yourself idly tracing it from time to time. Sometimes it seems to glow softly, or feel warm, perhaps responding to the Archon when he thumbs gently at it, contrasting and comparing with his own blackened arms, etched with veins of gold. Amber eyes staring up at you with love and desire as he places a kiss on it making you shiver.

Zhongli constantly wants to mark you more, in all sorts of ways. Drape you in silks and cover you in gemstones and gold. Leave bite marks along your skin. Douse you in his scent. It appeases his draconic instincts. But nothing compares to that little geo sigil, a personal indisputable claim, tattooed on your skin.

In a way, the mark could be taken as the God of Contracts’ signature and an unbreakable oath to you, his mate. It makes the dragon purr as he rolls his hips into yours, sinking deep inside you and making you whine as his palm presses against it.

-Beelzebul

Right at the center of your collarbone, like a pendant held by an invisible necklace, that is where the Electro mark was placed by Ei. Sometimes it’s a real shame it can’t be seen normally by humans, it would make for a pretty nice tattoo…

It’s not like the Electro sigil is rare to see anyway, quite the contrary, a rather popular choice and common sight all over Inazuma with deep cultural and religious meanings alike honoring Her Excellency. But one look from a youkai or one of the mikos at Narukami shrine and you know this is different.

Ei could act aloof and have a hard time expressing or understanding feelings, but the way she looks at you as she straddles you… dark violet hair cascading down her back and sides, hands roaming your chest and settling at your shoulders. She pins you there under her intense purple gaze and then bends forward to kiss at the sigil before moving to your lips.

The Goddess of Eternity considers her choices deeply and rarely ever goes back on her word or breaks a promise, and that is what she bestows upon you with her mark, a promise. Of love, of respect, of loyalty. Who would’ve thought the Electro Archon could be so… passionate?

-Focalors

You couldn’t believe just where Lady Furina had placed a pretty, blue, Hydro symbol on your skin. When asked about it she’d just giggled and said everything had a reason when it came to divine marks such as these… then proceeded to not explain at all. But seriously, your inner thigh?!

You could only sigh but smile softly at her antics as she laid across the couch, head rested in your lap, taking a nap by using your thighs as pillow, or demanding to be fed more sweets and sputtering indignantly when you poke at her nose or cheek instead, blushing.

She often drives you insane, paying special attention to the hydro marking with kisses and nibbles when you need her lips to go just a little more to the side… but oh, how she enjoyed teasing and riling you up. Mismatched blue eyes blinking coyly under thick eyelashes.

This is Lady Furina’s pledge to you, her word of honor as the Goddess of Justice, to love and cherish you no matter what. For despite her innocent act, she is guilty of having fallen for you.

-Bonus: Buer (Platonic)

Many people underestimate and doubt Nahida. A grave sin, in your opinion. When she places her mark of Dendro softly in your forehead, you feel nothing but pride, willing to follow and defend her and her teachings, for it is an honor to be her acolyte.

You see her wisdom in her actions, in the contemplating looks at her beloved city and people, in the way she always tries to solve problems and learn from difficulties, in her kindness, gentleness and little smiles. You see her love in the way she helps the elderly and soothes the children, in the candied ajilenakh nuts she shares with everyone, in the sparkle of her unique green eyes.

Like any other Archon, her nation and all its inhabitants are like her children. Despite her preferred appearance, the way she holds your hand as she guides you along and brushes at your hair gently with comforting words and praise feel more akin to a mother.

Just as you trust her, she trusts you, that is the covenant her sigil represents. And in the eyes of the Goddess of Wisdom, one day you’ll reach the sky and stars above.

-Bonus II: Hydro Dragon Sovereign

You stare at the sigil in the palm of your hand. An ancient symbol of power, no doubt, but with a meaning long since lost to time and shrouded in mystery. Yet, its significance is crystal clear to you: “I am yours as you are mine.”

The way the Iudex would always, without fail, hold your hand gently and kiss your palm instead of the back of it as it was traditional would no doubt confuse some people, but it makes your heart skip a beat. This special connection, the knowing look from those gorgeous lavender eyes and the hidden smile pressed against your skin…

Your back arches with a moan as Neuvillette ruts softly into you, slow and reverent, peppering kisses and nuzzling at your neck. His hand takes a hold of yours, fingers intertwining and you shiver as the marking in your palm seems to react. Your grip his hand tighter, canting your hips as well and surrounding him with your legs, asking for more, more, more-

It’s unknown if one day his kind will return to power, just as it’s impossible to predict the flow of the elements and the energy in leylines or just what the future will bring. But for Neuvillette, having you by his side feels like the most refreshing spring water and makes life that much sweeter.

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rachalixie · 2 months

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can’t get you off my mind

all good love stories start with a drunk stranger, don’t they?

warnings: mentions of alcohol, fem!reader

genre: fluff, comfort

word count: 4k

it starts at a bar.

or really, it starts with a man at a bar. one that you’ve seen before in passing, a familiar face in a sea of more familiar faces. someone who you’ll later learn is one third of your best friend changbin’s production team, someone who you should have met years ago probably, someone who you would find is the perfect puzzle piece that fits into your jagged edges.

but right now, he is just a man at a bar with a beer in hand and a ridiculously dopey smile on his face.

“marry me, please,” he says, absolutely serious but it’s a bit diluted from the way his words were slurred around the edges. “or i’ll have to kidnap you.”

“excuse me?” you raise a brow at him, his image swimming a bit as you turn your head to fully take him in. you’re not drunk, but youre a couple glasses of wine deep and you’re not known for being fully articulate whilst sober anyways.

“i swear i’m going to marry you,” he says, eyes wide as he looks at you. “you might be the most perfect person i’ve ever seen.”

you’re not overly fond of men you haven’t met hitting on you, but this one seems a bit harmless. if you ignored the part where he said he would kidnap you. at least he wasn’t grabbing onto you or trying to touch you - that would have sent your fist flying towards his face and probably a swift exit from the bar. it was a little weird that you didn’t find him weird, but in retrospect you must have known, even then.

“okay, listen,” you put your hands on your hips, giving him an unimpressed look. “if you find me when you’re sober, ask me again and maybe i’ll reconsider.”

“okay,” he nods, hair moving along with his movement like a puppy’s ears. “i can do that. i’ll find you, i promise. i’m gonna marry you, did you know?”

“so i’ve heard,” you roll your eyes, already feeling a bit fond about him. you didn’t think you’d meet him again, but you were sure that you’d look at this night with a fond smile later.

he sends you the brightest smile you think you’ve ever seen on a person and scampers off, and you stand rooted to that one sticky spot in the bar for longer than you want to admit.

–

he’s in the back of your mind when you wake up the next morning, in a better mood than most - you never liked waking up early, it always took you a good hour and some coffee to be able to stand without grimacing. this morning though, you float around your apartment as you get dressed with a small smile on your face.

a cute stranger who kept his boundaries and called you perfect? that wasn’t something that happened often, at least not to you.

the floatiness followed you all the way through your morning routine until you found your feet stopping outside the coffee shop that you and changbin all but owned. you had no stock in it, but you’re sure that you supply them at least half of their revenue, you probably sit on their rickety chairs more often than your actual couch at home. this place has nursed you through every college class and job interview preparations and beyond, and if it ever closed you might lose time off of your life span.

your movements from the door to the counter to your usual seat were robotic, muscle memory taking over while your head did somersaults through the clouds. it’s only when you take the first sip of coffee, the bitterness and heat hitting your tongue in a delightful dance, that you notice it.

another man is sitting next to changbin. a man that looks awfully familiar, and it takes you a moment to realize why. it’s the man from the bar.

“changbin?” you keep your eyes on the other man as you direct your question at changbin, trying hard to keep your face neutral. “explain?”

“i’m chan,” the man interjects before changbin can answer, reaching his hand across the table for you to shake. it’s warm, his grip somewhere perfectly in the middle of too hard and too soft, and he lets go after an appropriate amount of seconds. despite the neutral passivity of the gesture, you feel something ignite within you, and it threatens to sputter out when you catch no spark of recognition in his eyes. was he that drunk last night that he doesn’t remember you? do his sober eyes not find you as perfect?

“he crashed at my place last night,” changbin’s voice filters through your turmoil, and you finally break away from chan’s gaze to level him with a look. “and he needed coffee, so i brought him along. chan, this is y/n, my best friend.”

the conversation that followed flowed more freely than the coffee dripping from the machines behind the counter, and you almost hate how much you like it. chan is a little goofy, the man from the previous night shining through moments of seriousness and rapt attention.

by the time you had to leave to go to work you felt like you knew him. you learned where he lived (close to you!), that he worked with changbin (he’s a producer!), and that he loved all animals but he adored dogs (he has one named berry!). just an hour of casual conversation had led to you needing more of him in every aspect of your life, but still in the back of your head lived the thought of him not remembering you from the night before.

changbin leaves first, citing some meeting he had to run to in the middle of a yawn, and when you were left with chan the embarrassment began to set in.

“i’m going to marry you,” he blurts out, startling you so much you almost jump out of your seat.

“what?” you ask, a mixture of surprise and disbelief combining into a confusing vortex within your head - was he going to go through this again? you didn’t know if your heart could take it.

“i mean, i remember you,” he says before you could awkwardly excuse yourself and commit to getting to work early for the first time in a year just to escape being in a room alone with him for much longer. “i’m sorry, i was just embarrassed. i didn’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of changbin.”

“oh,” your breath leaves you all at once and you slump into your chair, understanding hitting you like a train. “that makes sense? i think?”

“i’m going to marry you,” he repeats, a mischievous glint in his eyes, the boy from last night shining through. “one day. i’m going to do it.”

“take me on a date first,” you tease back, a genuine smile stretching across your lips when he laughs, a full bodied thing that drew in eyes from the patrons across the room. for once, you didn’t seem to care that others’ eyes were on you. he made you feel comfortable.

“what are you doing tomorrow?” his mouth turns upwards into a beautiful smile that you can’t help but return.

“eager, are we?” you open your phone, sliding it across the table with the new contact page open on it. “i’m free.”

“you’re the most perfect person i’ve ever laid eyes on,” he says, as serious and genuine as the way he had proposed to you last night as he taps his number into your phone. “sorry if i’m a bit desperate.”

“don’t apologize,” you take your phone back, making a mental note to text him later. “i like it, for some unearthly reason. you’re cute, chan.”

the sound of his delighted laugh follows your footsteps all the way to work.

—

he picks you up for your first date at noon, right on the dot. he wasn’t a minute late, a polite knock sounding through your apartment just as the hour turned, as if he had been waiting and watching the time outside the door.

god, is everything about this man endearing?

he’s wearing shorts and a light sweater, looking like something out of a posh magazine. his hair is curly and swept off his forehead and he’s wearing a smile with the most adorable dimples shining through.

he leads you to his car and you have to hold back an impressed whistle. you knew changbin and his team did well for themselves, the name 3racha all over the credits of songs on the radio, but this car was nice. you were going to have a talk with changbin about why he still drove the same beat up sedan he’s had since college but that was a thought for later. right now all you wanted to think about was the man who held the door open for you to slide into the passenger seat and was now holding your hand over the middle console.

“do i get to know where we’re going?” you ask, peering at the map open on his phone but it tells you nothing more than that your destination was 15 minutes away and that he had to make a right turn in one mile.

“it’s a surprise,” he says, voice a little nervous but it was masked with excitement. wherever he was taking you, you would be happy to be there if he was this happy the whole time.

four songs on the radio later, one of which you teased him for when he revealed that he wrote it, he was pulling into a parking lot illuminated by flashing colorful lights. he had brought you to the fair.

“i’ve never been to the fair!” you bounced a little in your seat, wriggling in excitement. “i’ve always wanted to go, how did you know?”

“lucky guess?” he shrugs, avoiding your gaze as he cuts the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt.

“changbin told you, didn’t he,” you smile at the thought of chan asking his friend about what you’d like. it was cute, a word that you were probably exhausting when thinking about him even after a day of knowing him.

“yes, but,” he flushes, the tips of his ears burning red. “i asked him after i had decided to come here, just to make sure it was a good idea. i didn’t steal it from him.”

“hey, it’s okay,” you squeeze his hand in yours that he had yet to let go of in what you hoped was a comforting gesture. you didn’t know what brought him calmness yet, but you wanted to learn. you wanted to learn everything about him. “now, take me to the fair, bang chan. i was promised a date.”

he finally meets your eyes again and he’s grinning so happily that you feel like you had just won a prize. who needed a fair when you had your very own carnival game right here?

it turns out, you did. by the time the sun was beginning to set, your arms were full of various plushies that chan had won for you, each one earning him a hug and a kiss to his cheek. you treasured every single one, the fluttering in your chest when he stepped up to the booths to throw and shoot various things never ceasing.

“let’s go to the ferris wheel,” you tug at him with your free hand, thanking the skies when you see no queue there. “i bet the sunset looks beautiful from the top.”

he’s quiet when he follows you there and into the carriage, his thigh pressing against yours as he slides in next to you, but you don’t notice in your excitement. it isn’t until the wheel ticks to the top and stops that he grabs your hand again, trembling a little.

“chan? are you okay?” you ask, concern warping your voice as you turn towards him. your movement rocks the carriage a bit and he turns pale, ducking his head into your neck to hide.

“yeah, ‘m okay,” he murmurs, his eyelashes ticking your skin when he blinks his eyes shut. “just don’t like heights very much.”

“oh my god, why didn’t you tell me?” you cry out, jumping a bit and regretting it when you rock the carriage again. “nevermind that, what can i do? it’ll go down soon, you’ll be alright.”

“just keep holding my hand?” he squeezes your fingers lightly and your heart melts. you may have made a joke that he was just trying to trick you into holding his hand any other time, but the fear in his shaking body was real and you’d never tease him for that.

“of course,” you press a kiss to his hair, moving your other hand slowly to wrap around your intertwined fingers. the wheel begins to turn again, swaying the carriage as it descends. you keep your grip on his hand tight the entire time, all the way until you’re on your feet again on steady ground.

“i’m so sorry,” you begin to say, the horror of subjecting him to his fear creeping up now that the crisis has passed.

“i’m going to marry you,” he says, cutting off your apology and lifting your hands to his mouth so he could press a kiss to the back of yours. “no one’s ever been able to keep me that calm. thank you.”

you were left speechless after that and all you could do was smile at him, the ghost of it not leaving your face for the rest of the night.

–

your thirty first date with chan ends with you crying into changbin’s arms, utterly confused and the feeling of despair creeping up your veins. you had met him your cafe as you had done several times since the fair, but when you arrived he wasn’t there. he came late, dark storms in his eyes and a hard set to his jaw and you didn’t understand what had made him like that. the usual smile and twinkle in his eyes were missing, and when you and asked him about what was wrong he had snapped at you in a way you hadn’t been talked to in years.

you had left after that, brushing him off when his eyes had widened and he reached for you while calling out your name. you know that you should have given him a chance to explain, but at the time you were too hurt to consider it.

you made your way to changbin’s apartment without thinking, your feet taking you to safety before your head could catch up. changbin had taken one look at your face before wrapping you up in his arm, walking you to his couch so he could cuddle you properly while words spilled out of you like a leaky faucet. you felt like you were back in college, crying and blubbering over a boy who had rejected you at a party, and you hated it.

you didn’t notice changbin sending an angry text to chan, but the sound of changbin’s door opening with a bang startled you out of your tears. chan bursts in like a whirlwind, his hair sticking up at weird angles and a look of panic on his face as he takes you in. he reaches the couch in a few strides and falls to his knees in front of you, holding a crumpled bag from the cafe in his hand and taking your cheek gently into his other. his thumb wipes at the tear tracks there and you could practically taste the guilt emanating off of him.

“love, i am so sorry,” he starts, ignoring changbin when he scoffs at the apology. “i shouldn’t have snapped at you, i had no right to do that. i got some bad news this morning and i wasn’t feeling my best, and i should have been honest with you. i’ll never do anything like that again, please forgive me? i’ll do anything.”

it was more his voice than his words that did it - he sounded so desperate, like he was trying to hold

onto a ledge that was crumbling, threatening to hurl his body into eternal nothingness. you knew him, you knew he was sorry, and against your first instinct you trusted him when he said he wouldn’t do it again.

“is that an almond croissant?” you eye the bag in his hand.

“it’s two almond croissants,” he nods fervently, his hair swishing back and forth with the movement. you sit up, sliding out of changbin’s arms and onto the floor in front of chan. chan’s arms replace changbin’s easily when you lean into him, and it feels like coming home.

“it’s not like i have a nice couch you could be sitting on,” changbin mutters as he leaves, shaking his head fondly at the two of you before making himself scarce.

chan kisses you, cradling your head gently into his hands, and they’re so warm. he slides his lips against yours, slowly like he’s taking his time memorizing the planes of your mouth to commit to memory. even after kissing him dozens of times you still find new things to learn about each other.

“i swear,” he says, pulling away to meet your eyes. “i’m going to marry you, someday.”

“keep getting me croissants as apologies and we’ll see,” you say, sniffling into his neck.

—

your eighty seventh date was spent in your bed, your head spinning like both hands on a clock simultaneously and your body exuding more sweat than you ever have.

chan is wringing out a cool cloth to place on your forehead and it feels so nice that you moan.

“i’m sorry,” you mutter, and chan has lost count of the amount of times you’ve said it at this point. “we had a date and i ruined it.”

“we were going to see a movie,” he says, running a hand up and down your spine. “and we will. we don’t need a movie theater when we have a screen right here, hmm?”

“but the popcorn,” you complain, closing your eyes in bliss when he runs a hand through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp. an apology for being so sweaty was at the tip of your tongue but you hold it back in favor of enjoying the feeling of his touch.

“i’ll make you all the popcorn you want when you’re feeling better,” he promises, dropping a kiss to the side of your head. “for now, how does soup sound?”

“popcorn soup?“ you ask, a wave of dizziness taking over your body; if you weren’t lying down already, you’re sure that too would be falling over.

“yeah, baby,” and even in your delirium the fondness in his voice was prominent. he couldn’t hide it even if he tried. “i’ll make you some popcorn soup. get some rest okay?”

you’re asleep before he leaves the room, and you only wake up when he shakes your shoulder a bit and helps you into an upright position. he feeds you bites of what is definitely not popcorn soup after putting a movie on your laptop, the screen sitting at the foot of your bed. the both of you fall asleep before the movie finishes, but you don’t mind.

he stays with you for days, making you soup and tea and toast and feeding you medicine and being an all-around angel as he nurses you back to health. by the time you’re better you think you’ve fallen back in love with him several times.

as you had expected and warned him about, he catches your sickness the next week, and now it’s your turn to be his nurse. you try and do the same job he did, but his delirium seems worse. the silver lining is that his fever isn’t as bad, so you’re babysitting a babbling boyfriend more than a sick one.

the night before his fever breaks is the worst, since he doesn’t even recognize you. you shake your head at his silliness when he asks who you are and calls you pretty. you smile when he takes your hand in his and asks you to come closer.

you tear up when he tells you that he has a girlfriend that he loves very much and so even though you’re pretty he can’t do anything else because his girlfriend is the prettiest one in the whole world. you let a tear slip when he tells you that he can’t wait to propose to his girlfriend and that he’s going to marry her someday.

you tell him that you have a boyfriend that you're going to marry someday, trusting that he wouldn’t remember it in the morning.

—

your hundredth and fifth date was not unlike your fifth, or your tenth, or your ninetieth. two and a half years later, you were just as endeared by him and he was just as obsessed with you - even more so, if it were possible.

he takes the time to tell you how gorgeous you look when he picks you up just like he does on every date, and you hide your disgustingly fond smile for him behind his back like you do every time you see him.

he parks and runs around the car to let you out like he does every time you habit this restaurant, a little fancier than your usual best but it was a favorite of the both of yours - across the street from the bar the two of you had met at.

you start walking before he does, letting him jog to meet you and complain about how you left him, just like you do every time. before him. you might have thought the monotony would have gotten tiring, but he had a fantastical ability to make every moment feel like the first despite their practiced nature.

he calls your name from behind you right on schedule and you hum in acknowledgement, turning towards him absentmindedly. the second you lay eyes on him you’re completely alert, though; he isn’t jogging after you, but rather he’s kneeling on the sidewalk, a small box in his hands as he smiles up at you.

“i’ve told you that i’m going to marry you more times than i can count,” he starts, eyes shining like the stars twinkling in the night sky above you. “but this time i’m asking you.”

“chan,” you choke out, hands coming up to cover your mouth as it quivers. tears spring to your eyes and you silently curse yourself - you always thought you’d be level headed when you got proposed to, but nothing could have prepared you for this, not even the thousands of declarations he had made to you prior.

“i love you. you’re the only one in the entire universe that i need more than blood or breath, you’re the song that runs through my heart and the fire that leads my path when i’m lost,” his voice is thick, like he’s trying to hold back his emotions long enough to get his words out. “i never thought that i would feel so strongly for someone, i never thought that i deserved a love like this until i met you.”

he pauses as you walk closer to him, letting you approach him before he continues.

“my love, my eternal light,” he’s tearing up now, blinking fast to keep the salty water at bay. “will you marry me?”

“chan,” you start, kneeling down next to him and taking his wrists in your hands. “i never told you this, but ever since that first day i knew. i knew that the drunk idiot that was hitting on me would be my husband.”

he chuckles, smiling delightedly as the tears finally spring from both of your eyes in unison.

“so?” he trails off, searching your face with his eyes, waiting.

“oh!” you tighten your grip on him in an apology. “of course i’ll marry you, gosh i love you so much.”

#stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids #skz fluff #bang chan imagines #bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader

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honeydazai · 2 months

Text

୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ sending them suggestive pictures while they're at work

feat.: Dazai, Chūya, Ranpo, Fukuzawa, Fyodor, Sigma

content: nsfw, female reader, spanking, sexting, oral sxx, masturbation, semi public

It's not unusual for DAZAI to tap away on his phone during work hours, so no one — except for Kunikida, who still hasn't given up on glaring — pays it any mind when his smirk widens at his screen. What remains a secret, however, is that he's not looking at some funny tweet but instead at your tits, the blue lace of your bra making for a pleasant contrast in colour.

He's awfully smug about the whole ordeal, really; also, who is he not to play along? He definitely sends you not only some appreciative words back, but also a picture of his own, featuring either his hands — he does know that you're quite fond of his fingers, after all —, his face — because you can never complain about that! —, or his by now half-hard dick, pressing against his trousers, even though taking soft nudes borders on workplace indecency. Oh, and your pictures are definitely saved and stored away on his phone for later usage.

[new message from Dazai] “someone's needy, harassing me during work hours! just kidding bella!! you're so cute xx stunning too! how am i supposed to listen to kunikida any longer when you're so so pretty? :( ill call out sick, be there in 20 x”

CHŪYA really doesn't expect to see anything but a picture of a dog you saw outside or of a particularly pretty flower when he spares a brief glance at his phone during a Port Mafia meeting. It's already disrespectful, though he doesn't plan on anyone noticing the miniscule action — that is, until he all but chokes on his coffee at the photo of you, legs spread wide, two fingers deep inside of yourself, wearing not only his favourite lingerie set, but also one of his ties.

He tries hard to ignore the way everyone stares at him when he, all too abruptly, excuses himself to the bathroom, his face bright red. In the safety of a stall, he really can't do anything but shove his trousers to his knees, one hand immediately closing around his dick while he types your number into his phone with his free one — and while he might snap at you, oh so flustered, he's also so damn turned on that he can barely focus on anything but the sound of your voice and your photo.

“Fucking Hell, babe—, God, with how Mori was looking at me, I bet he knew what was up. Fuck—, send me another one, please, I'm so damn close, ah—”

Business meetings aren't RANPO'S favourite way to spend time. They're awfully boring, making him huff and sigh when he has to sit through them — though this one gets a lot more interesting the moment he clicks on a text message from you. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of your panties, pure lace and hiding not even the slightest bit just how wet you are, thighs glistening, though that's about all the physical reaction he's going to show. The fact that his dick strains against his trousers is no one's business.

He is, however, quick to text you back, amusement dripping from his messages, and if Fukuzawa wasn't already watching him with sharp eyes, he'd sneak away to the bathroom to call you. For now, you'll just have to do with sexting — this meeting is going to go on for a while, especially if he won't soon start contributing, and he's unfortunately got better things to do.

[new message from Ranpo] “having fun without me? youre so mean. at least send me more pics im dyin g here... maybw bend over or— ooo i know, we bought that toy a while ago, right? why don't you use that one for me, doll....”

FUKUZAWA sucks in a sharp breath the second his eyes fall onto your form clad in nothing but one of his yukatas, and even though he attempts to remain calm, he's already blushing, arousal churning low in his stomach. Really, he was just trying to take a miniscule break from all the paperwork he's facing — besides, the cat ringtone signaling your message did sound rather urgent! —, though now he's not certain whether he can focus on it again.

He ends up typing “This is most inappropriate.” in response, though he never sends it, instead replacing it with a “You look stunning.”, only to never send that one either. In the end, he just quits work a little earlier that day and hurries home faster than he'd ever want to admit, cheeks still flushed with arousal when he joins you in bed, immediately slotting himself between your pretty thighs, long fingers spreading your folds apart and into your cunt to prepare you — only to realise you've long done that yourself. How convenient. He might reprimand you a little afterwards, though both of you realise it's not to be taken seriously. When he's honest with himself, he rather liked that photo — and he'll definitely keep it.

“That was awfully inappropriate. Darling, you know I enjoy getting to hear from you during the day, and yet — what? I didn't mind you wearing my clothing in the slightest. I was worried about someone from the Agency seeing the picture. In fact, wear my clothes again whenever you feel like it. Please do. You looked quite irresistible.”

It's almost unfair just how seemingly unbothered FYODOR is. When checking his phone during a Decay of Angels meeting, aware that you know not to contact him except for important reasons, he merely glances at the photo lewdly depicting your raised skirt and the curve of your behind before putting it back into his pocket. Really, it's downright adorable that you're attempting to tease him — you should know better by now, darling.

While he doesn't bother with a response, he certainly makes sure to pay attention to you when he returns home. And, oh, the next time you want to toy with him, he sure hopes you remember this very moment, of you bent across his lap, his hand coming down ever so often on your butt, on the soft skin of your upper thighs, making you cry out with every slap. The marks, at least, will serve as a nice reminder, especially when you keep forgetting to thank him for every hit.

“There we go, dear. Ah, ah — don't cry now. This is what you wanted, is it not? My undivided attention — and you certainly have it, now. Which number were we on again? Tell me, darling, or we will have to start over, I'm afraid.”

The second SIGMA spares a quick glance at his phone, only to stumble upon a rather revealing picture you just sent him — and, God, 'rather revealing' is an understatement when he's able to see just how wet you are, thighs spread for the camera —, his face heats up significantly, earning him some odd looks from the other men he's currently in a meeting with. In a desperate attempt to regain professionalism, he clears his throat, trying to simply continue, but it's as if every thought has been erased from his mind and was replaced by you.

When getting home that evening, he's calmed down considerably, cheeks still warm with the memory of you being this bold, though his sudden calmness might just change when you expect him in that exact same position, legs wide apart, the smile on your face teasing — and who is he not to end up on his knees in front of you, tongue flattening against your cunt while both of you let out breathy moans? In the end, he's all but begging you to return the favour.

“Ah, God, I'm close. At least finish me off, please—, you were really cruel today, dear. Make it up to me? Please? Oh, fuck—”

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griffonsgrove · 4 months

Note

Hiiii!!! See your doing writing requests for Hazbin, Its my hyperfixation so I am in need of more content 👀 so I'd like to request maybe Vox general or NSFW headcanon ( either one is good lol-) with a afab reader maybe? This is my first time requesting something like this so sorry if I'm a little nervous or bad at requesting. I think this is how people are supposed to request? XD

General Dating Headcanons | Vox

a/n: You're totally alright dear! You said everything just fine! As I've stated before, I got early access to the first two episodes, and it's been so interesting to analyze vox's character! I hope I can do him justice!! He's starting to grow on me now. I'm gonna stick with a gn!reader just because these are general headcanons and I want them to be suited for anyone!

fandom: Hazbin Hotel

wordcount: 1299

cw: SPOILERS FOR HAZBIN HOTEL, swearing, vulgar content, stalking, death and mentions of death/murder., toxic/absuive relationships.

(PLATONIC):

Vox’s got eyes EVERYWHERE in hell. There is no escaping his line of sight unless you go completely off the grid. Which is pretty difficult to do when the entirety of pentagram city is covered head to toe in VoxTech.

However, if you don't pose a threat to him, he really doesn't give a shit about you otherwise, and won’t pay that much attention to your life.

When you first fell into hell, you were mostly confused as to how you wound up here in the first place. That quickly subsided into fear as you noticed the large variety of demons and sinners casually walking down the sidewalk like it was an average tuesday.

You’ll never forget the sight of seeing a demon gnaw off the arm of another and swallow it whole, like it was an all-you-can-eat buffet.

You wander aimlessly down the streets, keeping to yourself and being very cautious of those around you. Your clothes were in tatters, and you didn't have any form of money whatsoever, what were you to do??

You had two options: Somehow find a job in this new horrific realm, or, die.

You didn't care too much for the latter.

This is how you stumble across one of the largest studios/clubs in hell, owned by probably the most feared overlords in pentagram city. The V’s.

You get hired to be nothing more than a waiter/waitress, to serve the patrons of the club, mostly serving them their drinks.

You weren't too fond of the work uniform either. It left nothing to the imagination, and exposed alot of skin, far too much to your liking. The job actually paid somewhat decently though and it was enough to be able to sustain a living. You were quick to rent out the nearest apartment.

One day, while you’re out on the main floor, making your rounds, your eyes briefly lock with the TV demon across a sea of sinners. Call it cheesy, but it was almost like a spark went off the moment he laid eyes on you. Which is something that doesn't happen often with the tech-savvy overlord. Who were you??

He lazily beckons you over with a claw, to which you obediently follow, although it doesn't hide the sheer nervousness written all over your face, He gives you his drink order in that sultry, velvet voice of his, eyeing you up. You gulp slightly and are quick to bring him his order. He thought you were so cute trembling for him.

He begins to stalk observe you closer after that. If you have any electronic devices he’ll watch you through your screens, trying to get a glimpse into what your life was like outside of work. The things you enjoyed doing in your free time, favorite shows, foods etc.

He def goes through your search history.

He would start showing up more in the sections you worked at, oftentimes minding his business, but occasionally striking up a conversation with you.

You did have to admit he was quite the charmer, his smooth voice was hypnotic to you.

OBSESSIVE TENDENCIES. If he notices some creep won't leave you alone while you're working, he’ll take care of them personally, it’s never a pretty sight afterwards. He cant have anyone taking what's his.

You're oblivious to his stalking and possessiveness, you don't think much of it, maybe that's because he puts on a friendly face when you’re around him.

But after some time of getting to know you, He’s the one that eventually asks you out on a “date”. You’re skeptical at first, but decide to accept his offer. And also partially because you were afraid of what would happen if you said no.

(ROMANTIC):

Ngl it’s kind of a situationship in the beginning.

Vox is a busy man, it’s constant work maintaining the studios (especially valentinos temper) and managing the entirety of hell's technology. So, he may ghost you at first.

That being said, He will still keep an eye on you. He often watches through your phone while you sleep, just to make sure you’re safe. Hell is a dangerous place after all.

Speaking of, you’re now under the protection of the V’s, so that’s a plus! You never have to worry about another demon laying a finger on you. They usually never get close enough to anyways.

He very easily gets jealous. He won't show it on the outside because he has an image to uphold, but you can tell every time from that crazed look in his eyes.

Vox is a possessive lover; he wants to keep you all to himself. If he could, he’d keep you locked up by his side all day.

CONTROLLING. He HAS to know where you’re at, at all times, and who you’re going to be with (lest you face one of his tantrums). Also dictates what you wear, He likes to dress you up to his liking, like you’re his own personal doll.

Insecure much?

Say goodbye to privacy btw. He constantly has you in the back of his mind and a watchful eye on you. It can be kind of suffocating at times. The two of you have gotten into a few arguments because of this.

Valentino gets jealous of you too. How dare you take his boy-toy away from him? He’s often giving you the stink eye and will threaten you behind vox’s back. You’re too scared to tell Vox, because you don't want to face Val’s wrath.

You know briefly of his and Val’s “relationship” it all had seemed very one-sided and completely unhealthy.

You're often having to calm Vox down. The man has a very short temper and is easily provoked.

Imagine you pressing little kisses to his screen after he found out about Alastor’s return. He remains stoic, but secretly enjoys your affection.

Some of the pet names he loves to call you include; Doll, Dear, Darling, Sweetheart, Babe.

Pretty old-fashioned ik, but he's a classy man alright?

He tends to be pretty touchy, always having a clawed hand on the small of your back, or an arm wrapped around your waist. It’s more of a possessive trait of his, to keep what's his close.

He loves having you sprawled on his lap while he’s in his screen room, you stay nuzzled into his side, often taking naps while he does broadcasts.

He TOTALLY spoils you btw. He’s one of the most powerful overlords in hell, ofc he has the money to show it. Whatever dingy apartment you had before, forget about it bc this man has you living in a penthouse suite in one of the most expensive apartment buildings. He sees you looking at something in a store or online?? Boom, it’s yours now.

He loves buying you clothes, as I’ve said before, you're his “doll” and he loves playing dress up with you.

And if you buy him something?? He’s taken by surprise at first, he’s never really been on the receiving end of that affection, so whatever it is you give him he’ll cherish it.

If you ever have someone bothering you, or want to get rid of, you just say the word babe. He’ll be feeding them to his sharks >:)

The man is emotionally constipated, ok?? All he’s ever known from relationships is what he shared with Val (and trust me that was a train wreck). He’s rough around the edges, short-tempered and isn't always easy to get along with, and he’s incredibly possessive which can be suffocating to deal with at times. This probably stems from him not wanting to actually be alone, He doesn't want you to slip out of his grasp, so he keeps a tight leash on you. But underneath all these flaws, he really does love you and care about you. At the end of the day, He just wants someone that will stay.

#hazbinhotel #hazbinhotelxreader #xreader #gender neutral reader #vox x reader #vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin x reader #headcanons #dating headcanons #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin

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livinginshambles · 2 months

Text

You'll never compare to her | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: you're in a relaionship with James, but he keeps on comparing you with Lily subconsciously until he says it to your face on a drunken night.

Notes: Hi, sorry I got into a major writer's block and couldn't for the life of me find a fitting ending, because I can't forgive this easily from own experiences, but I do like happy endings cause copium. Anyway if y'all have suggestions, I'll make a part two :)

Not proofread, grammar mistakes, spelling mistakes, etc etc. ENJOY!

Masterlist

______________________________

“James, wait up!” you yelled across the courtyard, catching the attention of about everyone except James. You watched James turn the corner with Peter, an exasperated expression on your face. You looked down dejectedly but then you saw the stares of people around you. You grinned widely at them, covering up any signs of embarrassment.

“There’s just something about boys and hearing problems,” you joked with a nonchalant shrug, and the surrounding students giggled in understanding.

You hummed to yourself while you walked off. You’d give James his wand later. He probably wouldn’t need it for Potions class anyway.

Peter looked up at James in confusion. “Prongs, did you not hear her call out to you?”

James sighed. “We’ll be late for class if we stopped, you know. I mean, I love my girlfriend, but she’s just sometimes a bit oblivious, and once she starts, we’ll be stuck there,” James explained in a complaining manner.

“But you love her,” came a voice behind him. Sirius parted James and Peter to walk between the two of them. “Right?” He swung his arms across the other marauders’ shoulders.

James gave him an annoyed look. “That’s what I said, but great hearing.”

“Better than you if you couldn’t hear her calling you,” Sirius laughed, but his eyes seemed to have lost a mischievous spark. “Do you think if you keep saying you love her, you’ll actually believe it?”

James glared at him and shook of Sirius’ arm. “If there’s literally any guy I wouldn’t take advice from, it’s you, Pads.” Sirius raised his hands in surrender. “Touchy today, are you Prongs?”

You sat down on the seventh staircase, opening your book. It was a muggle book that Lily had given to you as a birthday present. You looked at the necklace that James had bought you for your birthday. You had been afraid that he’d forgotten and been so thrilled when he had shown up at 10 in the evening.

The pendant was a flower, and even though you were not a botanical expert, you were very well aware that the flower was not a romantic rose or anything typically cheesy. You had a hunch what flower it was, but had refused to look it up, knowing that you would only be hurt.

Lily took a seat next to you. “The seventh staircase? Really? What’s wrong with the third?” She asked, utterly out of breath. You laughed, “hey, you invited yourself,” you defended with a fond smile. “Besides, since this is the highest staircase, it is the only one that is always in in a downward position, and won’t tilt and go upwards.”

“I guess,” she grinned, and she scooted over to see how far along you were in your book. “Oh my goodness, you’re getting to the good part!” she squealed happily. You gave her a warning look and closed your book. “No spoilers,” you sternly told her. Lily rolled her eyes playfully and nudged you. “I would never spoil this for you.”

“Alice and Marlene invited us for Hogsmeade this afternoon,” she casually mentioned, but she fumbled with her hands, signifying that she was nervous about something.

You raised your eyebrows. “Oh, well James and I were going to go together, so I don’t think I can join you guys this time,” you hesitantly told her.

Lily bit her lip. “James and the rest of the marauders already told Alice that they were going to join us this afternoon,” she softly explained. There was a conflicted expression in her eyes. “He overheard Alice and me talking about it.”

You pursed your lips. “Oh,” you nodded.

“Y/N, why do you let him do this to you?” Lily decided to ask you anyway.

“I’m not letting him do anything to me,” you defended. “He forgot to mention it to me, not a big deal.”

Lily protested. “We’re literally leaving as soon as their class is over. He wouldn’t have been able to tell you, Y/N. You would’ve-“

“-been waiting for him,” you finished her sentence. You bit on your cheek in thought. “I know, Lily,” you sighed.

“Then why-“

“Because I do believe he loves me,” you quickly tried to defend him, your voice raised in volume and Lily looked down. “He’s not perfect, but no one is,” you convinced yourself, recollecting yourself. You leaned against the stair post and looked down at the other stairs that changed directions, and the panicking first year students, who still hadn’t gotten the hang of it quite yet.

“He makes me feel so loved, you know,” you sighed when you looked back at her. Lily looked at you sadly. “When he remembers you, Y/N. When he remembers he has a girlfriend.”

You didn’t know what to reply because she was right. James could be the loveliest boyfriend when he wanted to. “It’s enough for me,” you eventually replied.

“It shouldn’t have to be,” Lily pointed out, but she sighed, knowing that this was a pointless battle. But she felt the need to bring it up whenever she noticed James discard you like that. She felt guilt. Both of you knew that the girl who was most often on his mind, was Lily.

Lily had finally given James a chance in their third year after a good two and a half years of James’ advances. Having outgrown James and the marauders’ childishness and bullying, specifically after the ‘Snape incident’, she’d broken up with him only three months in, leaving him devastated. You had been his friend, mostly through Sirius and Lily, and you had found him in the common room, disheveled from crying, so you had comforted him.

Something inside James had felt a pull towards you then. A sense of comfort or familiarity no doubt reminiscent of Lily, and his mind had been set on you. Of course, you had rejected his advances for over a year, absolutely appalled by his seemingly quick recovery from his breakup. And so another year would pass.

You hadn't even seen it coming. You didn't have a romantic interest in James, until you did. All of the sudden, you found yourself in love with James Potter. Not that you would ever admit that, of course. No, you remained steadfast in your resolve to keep things platonic, as the mere idea felt like a betrayal of your friendship to Lily.

But Lily had noticed of course. You had looked away ashamedly while assuring her that you were sure that it was just a fleeting crush, something that would blow over soon. Instead of judgment, her face expressed understanding and compassion as she encouraged you to stop pushing your feelings aside, going as far as calling James over, effectively starting your relationship for you.

And now, she watched as James treated her closest friend like crap.

“How about we head down in advance,” you suggested, dusting off your Hogwarts robe.

“Yeah, about time, don’t you think?” You peered over the stairs to see Marlene with her hands on her hips in a waiting manner.

“Hey guys, what are you doing here,” you laughed as Alice dragged herself up the last few steps to stand next Marlene.

“Picking you up of course, the guys are all waiting outside.”

Your heart warmed at the thought. Of course your friends would never have left you waiting by yourself to no avail. With a fond feeling, you and your friends descended the stairs again to go to Hogsmeade.

Sirius was sitting on the ground, knees propped up while they were waiting for the girls. He twirled his wand between his fingers. “Why are we going with McKinnon and such again?”

Remus next to him shrugged his shoulders. “They invited us, I think.”

Peter shuffled his feet uncomfortable. “Alice was inviting Lily and James invited himself and us.”

James grinned widely. “I mean, how awesome is it to go in a big group?” He enthusiastically asked. It was a rhetorical question, but Remus still felt the need to respond. “That’s great and all, but I thought you were going with Y/N?”

James blinked once and then twice. He jumped up from his leaning position against the wall. “Shit.”

Sirius burst out in laughter and threw his head back, hitting his a little too hard against the wall. “Oh Prongs, you crack me up,” he shook his head. “And you say that I am the worst at being in a relationship,” he huffed. James didn’t have time for finding the humor in this situation though.

He started to pace around. He completely forgot to tell you, he realized. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to go find her,” he quickly made up his mind.

“Find who?”

James’ head whipped around to find Alice and Marlene looking at him curiously. Trailing a few steps behind them were you and Lily, engrossed in a conversation about the book you were holding.

“Your girlfriend perhaps?” Marlene tilted her head innocently, but every fool could see the warning look in her eyes. “Don’t worry, we’ve got her back.”

You and Lily finally caught up to the group. “Hey,” you awkwardly waved, relieved when Remus and Peter threw you a smile, and Sirius got up to pat you a little too hard on the back, making you stumble a little. You smacked him in return, but a friendly laugh on your face. “I will hex you Sirius,” you threatened half-heartedly.

“Not with James’ wand, you’re not,” he replied and nodded towards the wand in your pocket. You huffed. “Well I don’t need a wand, I can beat you up with my bare hands,” you joked. Sirius took a step back to scan you up and down. “Not with those arms, you’re not,” he grinned.

Something tugged inside James, and he surged forward to catch your attention. “Y/N, how was your class?”

You frowned, but before you could answer, Remus spoke up. “She didn’t have class today, Prongs,” he remarked.

You nodded in confirmation but held up your book. “I read this book instead.” James instantly recognized the book “Little Women”, one of Lily’s favorites.

“That’s a nice book,” he airily commented. Your brows shot up. “You’ve read this book?” James nodded. “Well, I listened to it, you could read it to me if you want sometime. I mean, Lily-“

“I knew you would never willingly read a book,” Sirius interrupted him suddenly. And Lily shot Sirius an appreciative look. James quickly looked away. Right. He quickly glanced at you, to see if you had noticed the way he had almost mentioned when Lily would read to him on date nights. If you had noticed anything, you didn’t seem to show it.

James offered his arm, and you tucked the book under your arm before linking the other with his. “What fine weather, do you not agree, Milady?” James exaggerated in a posh accent.

You laughed and looked up at the sky. The sky was covered in dark clouds, and it looked like it could rain any given moment. “Why the weather certainly is… weathering,” you managed with a covered grin.

You handed him his wand from earlier this morning. “And you forgot this in the library,” you added. James twirled it around and the wand disappeared up his sleeve. “Is that why you were calling out to me, darling?”

“So you heard me?”

James’ heart skipped a beat, and he racked his mind to find a suitable reply. A lie. “Well, Peter did, but we were already gone,” he managed to excuse himself. You frowned a little and looked back at Peter who couldn’t look you in the eyes and you sighed.

“You heard me,” you repeated, and your grip on his arm was loosening. He felt you letting go and quickly adjusted himself, grabbing your hand instead. “You’re right, I heard you. I’m really sorry I didn’t wait for you,” he admitted. He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it.

“Okay.”

When you arrived at the Three Broomsticks, James expertly pulled back a chair for you. “Just a butterbeer?” he asked. You nodded in response, but you hadn’t said much to him anymore and James frowned at the lack of your enthusiasm. When he returned with everyone’s order he sat down to your right, with Lily to your left. “Tadah,” he said, and he held up an extra package of sugar triumphantly.

“Merlin, I still can’t believe you drink butterbeer with extra sugar,” Sirius fake gagged. You kicked his leg under the table. “I just like sweet things,” you stuck out your tongue. “Besides, why are you not saying anything about Moony, he is literally crumbling pieces of chocolate in it right now.”

Sirius snapped his neck to Remus who looked up flustered. “Hey, why are you attacking me,” he complained.

James grabbed your mug and quickly sipped away the foam on top that you disliked and dumped the sugar into the mug. “There you go, on the house,” he proudly said. Your heart filled with fondness, and you appreciatively sipped from your drink.

James leaned in. “I love you,” he whispered, and he pressed a kiss to your temple, succeeding in making you flustered. “I’m in love with you too,” you mumbled back.

Gryffindor had won their first Quidditch match of the season and naturally, they threw a party in the common room. You had wanted to go when Remus and Peter had invited you, but James and piped up. “No, she doesn’t like those things. Too loud,” he confidently said, absolutely assuming.

“I like parties though?” you replied. You wanted to hang out with James and the marauders, and you were not scared of disagreeing with James. James looked at you with an unreadable expression. “Oh, well obviously you can come if you want. I just didn’t expect you to want to be among loud drunk people,” he recovered.

“What if she is one of the loud drunk people,” Sirius remarked from behind James. “Just because Li-“ James elbowed him in the stomach and Sirius groaned.

Perhaps it would have been wiser of you not to go. Maybe you should’ve been a little more like Lily, who had stayed in the dorms, snacking and reading. It sure would’ve hurt less.

“You will never compare to her.”

All you could manage was a bitter smile. James looked defiantly at you, but his eyes seemed to find it difficult to find focus. Your throat tightened and you tried to swallow, but still couldn’t find an adequate response to James’ hurtful words.

“I know that, James,” you eventually wryly replied. Of course you knew that, despite your attempts to be a better girlfriend by being more like Lily. You cleared your throat and furiously blinked away tears that threatened to show the impact of his words.

“You should go get some sleep,” you murmured, and you tried to coax him into laying down on his bed, desperately trying to ignore the issue at hand. Perhaps if you paid it no mind, you could pass this off as nothing more than a drunken insult that you could pretend never happened.

But James doubled down.

“You will never compare to her,” he repeated. This time he added some emphasis as well. You inhaled sharply. His words were no longer slurred, and his eyes seemed to bore right into yours. You’ve never felt so small in your life, your skin crawled uncomfortably as time passed in silence. You frowned deeply now and stared out the window behind James. What were you supposed to do with this information? It wasn’t new, but it was the first time the words had outright left his mouth.

You looked him back in his eyes. “Okay. I’m going to go and get you a glass of water for a hangover,” you slowly spoke up, trying to keep your voice calm. “Don’t forget you said this. I want you to remember that you said this because I need you to apologize for it when I get back, James.”

James groaned; his headache started to get worse. “Fine, go, but don’t come back today, I’ve had enough. And I won’t apologize tomorrow either.” James turned around a faced his back towards you. He was drifting off. “You’ll forgive me anyway, you always do. It’s the one thing you’ve got.” He mumbled. “At least you’re easier than her.”

Your face burned in embarrassment; your eyes shifted across the room as if trying to make sure no one had heard him. How long could you hold back your tears to keep your dignity, you wondered. Would you at least make it all the way to your own dorms?

“Okay,” you resigned shakily with a nod, slowly getting up while staring at his back. “I won’t be back.”

His breaths seemed to slow down to a steady pace, and you knew he had fallen asleep. Your arms hung defeatedly next to your body and your hand tapped your leg restlessly before reaching for your wand. You murmured a spell on the glass of water on his bedside. It would help him with his hangover tomorrow, and it would be the last act of affection you would direct at him, you decided.

You closed the door behind you and quickly untucked your hair from behind your ears, letting it cover your face. The path back to your own dormitory seemed longer than usual, each step weighed down by the burden of uncertainty.

You passed Remus in a hurry, who seemed to look at you in a concerned manner. Remus turned his head to see Sirius looking worried as well.

James stared at the ceiling. Against his own wishes, he remembered yesterday evening crystal clear. He frowned as he closed his eyes and sunk deeper into his matrass.

Of course he felt bad about what he said, but you were in so many ways like Lily. From the strange muggle expressions you had picked up from her, to your mannerisms, like the way Lily laughed with a hand in front of her mouth to cover her teeth, to your handwriting. Though he knew it wasn’t fair to you, it was so easy to compare you. If anything, it was difficult not to do so. But he was sure he loved you regardless.

You never left James’ mind as he got ready to head downstairs to the great hall. He should apologize to you, James figured. He walked over to his bed and downed the glass of water on his bedside. He laughed somewhat fondly to himself when his mind cleared up immediately. You had enchanted it, he realized. So how angry could you possibly really be, this time.

Feeling rather confident, James headed towards the Great Hall. The Hogwarts Great Hall buzzed with the usual morning chatter as students filed in for breakfast.

As he scanned the room, his eyes found you sitting beside Lily at the Gryffindor table. There was something different about your smile, a subtle sadness that didn't escape James' notice. He felt a pang of guilt wash over him, knowing he was the cause of your distress.

Lily, ever perceptive, shot James a cold look before nodding toward the empty seat next to her. James approached cautiously, unsure of how to navigate the tension that hung in the air.

"Thanks, Lily," he offered gratefully, though the discomfort in the atmosphere was palpable. Lily didn’t spare him a glance and got up. “I’ll wait for you outside,” she smiled encouragingly. She clasped her hands together and nodded at you before leaving. James stared at Lily.

You cleared your throat, drawing James' attention fully to you. His heart skipped a beat as he caught sight of your determined expression.

"You look dashingly beautiful today, darling," James remarked, hoping to lighten the mood with his usual charm.

But you met his gaze head-on, your resolve unwavering. "I'm not going to be the one you settle for," you declared firmly, your words sending a chill down James' spine.

Confusion clouded James' features as he struggled to comprehend your words. "Wait, darling, come on," he pleaded, reaching out to grasp your hand gently.

You pulled away; your tone was unwavering. "I'm not joking around, James. To me, we ended yesterday," you asserted, your voice steady. James felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, realizing the gravity of the situation. That this wasn’t a joke or a call for an apology. An apology wouldn’t fix this, he realized. How could he fix this? James’ mind raced.

"Yesterday- What? If it's about what I said, I was just drunk," he protested weakly, desperation creeping into his voice.

You sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and resignation. "You literally doubled down twice, James. Well, it doesn't matter anymore, but I wanted to close this off properly. That's it," you explained, placing your knife and fork on your plate, and pushing it to the middle of the table, where it magically vanished towards the kitchen. You rose from your seat.

James reached out to stop you, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Y/N, I swear, I was drunk. And I love you," he confessed, his heart was pounding in his chest. He felt his friends look at him in pity and he understood that they had already been filled in the situation.

But your resolve remained unshaken. "Yeah, I'm sure you love a certain part of me," you muttered under your breath, forcing a smile onto your lips. "Look, we can stay friends, yeah? You're a nice guy, James. And a damn good friend too, I just don’t think you were ever ready for another relationship," you concluded.

James was stunned by your resolve, unsure of how to respond, just feeling defeat. He could see that you had closed off. Trying to maintain some dignity, he nodded in acceptance. "Okay.” He whispered quietly.

“Well then, I guess I'll see you later," you managed to say, as you awkwardly nodded, catching yourself as your hands were mid-air, ready to clasp together the same manner Lily always announced her leave. Instead, you awkwardly held two thumbs up before turning on your heels.

As you walked away from James, a whirlwind of emotions churned within you. On one hand, your heart ached with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings and heartbreak. You had been so in love with James.

On the other hand, somewhere deep down, you knew that the only way to get him to keep wanting you, was by imitating the girl he actually wanted. You had let so many things pass, not wanting to break up with James. But you’d done it. It was over. And you almost felt guilty for feeling so relieved.

Taglist: Some of the tags didn't want to work so sorry if you didn't make the list, the rest will be in a reblog

@mellowarcadefun @marauderssimpthings @tortured-artists @kazimierasm @ssc7514 @ietss @chieffanfun @narcissuspetal @jamesweather @nyrasunderwrld

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#james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter imagine #james potter angst #james potter fluff #james potter fic #james potter oneshot #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #marauders era #marauder x reader #young james potter x reader

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stillmonsterz · 2 months

Text

you know i'm down

pairing: jay x reader

genre: smut

summary: it's march 2020 and you're stuck in the house with your stepfather during lockdown. can the two of you keep it together?

warnings: stepcest, unprotected sex, swearing, dubcon, panty-sniffing, virus mention, COVID implication (?),

word count: 3.8k

“Yeah. Yeah, I know, things are getting crazy, but try to keep your head up, yeah? You’ll be safe,” Jay said into his phone, his forehead creasing as he spoke. His newly wedded wife had taken a trip to visit her mother shortly after their marriage, but now the government was advising that she stay where she was. The news was scaring her, and it scared Jay, too, but he couldn’t let her know that. He was her steadfast protector, her bastion, and so he reassured her that everything would be okay.

“And you’ll take care of her too, yes?” she asked firmly, referring to her daughter.

“Of course, honey. I’ll take care of her like she’s mine,” Jay said, rubbing his forehead. “I promise.”

“You’re so good with her,” his wife said. “You know, she really likes you, right?”

“I really like her, too,” Jay said softly, and it was the truth. His wife and her daughter had moved in with him three short months ago, and neither of them had caused trouble. On the contrary: Jay wished that he could see more of her daughter so they could be closer. He wanted to be a good stepfather, but she was always holed up inside of her room.

They exchanged goodbyes, I love yous, and promises to stay safe, and then Jay was alone on the couch with his own thoughts. If he sat there for too long, stewing in fear, he would lose his mind. Jay turned the television on and checked the news. They were strongly advising people to stay put for at least two weeks, and Jay made a mental note to coordinate with his employees about this in a few hours. No point riling people up and forcing them to worry about work so early in the day.

Jay was sitting on the couch with lips set in a line when you had tentatively crept down the stairs, worry etched on your features. He turned the television off and assessed you carefully. You were so similar to your mother in stature and facial features, but Jay doubted that his wife would ever don the dolphin shorts and hoodie combination you were so fond of wearing. Of course, you made it look cute. You shuffled over to him, wringing your hands.

“Mom really can’t come back?” you asked, hovering near the other end of the couch.

Jay nodded, setting his phone on the side table. “Yeah, they really want to curb the spread of the virus,” he said, smoothing his hands down his legs. “She’ll be okay, though. There’s a lot of food at her mom’s house, and she won’t be alone. It’ll only be two weeks.”

Your lower lip trembled, and you looked away from Jay as you tried to calm yourself down. You rubbed your hands along your arms, and Jay could see that you had goosebumps. “You don’t think she got it, do you?” you asked in a wavering voice.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jay said quietly. “Look at me.” When you refused, obstinately staring at the ground, his voice became firm. “Look at me.”

You lifted your head, and he spread his arms and gestured for you to come to him. He wrapped you in his embrace, rubbing your back. You leaned on him, kneeling in between his legs as you hugged him tightly. “There’s no way that she caught it,” Jay said soothingly. “She’s been with her family the entire time. She hardly went off their property.”

“I’m just so worried. I’ve never lived through anything like this before,” you said falteringly, pulling away so you could look at his face. Jay knew you were looking at him to check for chinks in his armor, a sign of doubt. He pulled his features into a convincing mask of resoluteness and confidence.

“It’ll all be okay,” he said, running his thumb along your cheek. “Look on the bright side, you won’t have to commute to school for two weeks.”

You chuckled, looking down as you smiled. “You’re right, Jay.” Jay liked that you didn’t try to call him Dad or Daddy. When he had first met you after a few months of dating your mom, he had been pleased to find that you weren’t the archetypal bratty stepdaughter. Instead, you were sweet and intelligent, and you hardly asked him for a thing. Jay stroked your hair comfortingly and kissed your forehead.

“You wanna watch a movie together? Would you like that?” You nodded your assent, and Jay reached around for the remote and went on Netflix. He put something lighthearted on for you, and shortly after the movie started you rested your head on his chest. Belatedly, Jay realized that it might be somewhat inappropriate to hold you like this, with you curled up in his arms, kneeling between his legs. But you were so worried, and you needed a guiding figure there, so what else could he do?

Jay continued to rub your back as you watched the movie together. At some point, though, Jay’s attention permanently moved from the film onto you, and he studied your features closely. His wife was a very pretty woman, and started to realize that her daughter was a very pretty girl.

Maybe this lockdown wouldn't be so bad, if he could get closer to you.

–

The next day, Jay took stock of everything in the kitchen. Thankfully, they tended to bulk-buy, so he didn’t think that they would have to go shopping for two weeks. Yesterday, you hadn’t eaten dinner, blaming your nerves for curbing your appetite. He decided to surprise you with a pancake breakfast. He smiled as he imagined you eating pancakes. You’d look so adorable with full cheeks…

As he started to gather the ingredients, he heard footsteps padding on the tiled floor.

“What are you doing?” you asked quietly. Jay turned to face you, and his breath caught. You were rubbing your eyes, looking around the kitchen, and you were so cute. Jay swallowed thickly and returned his attention to the array of supplies in front of him.

“Just making breakfast,” he mumbled. “Pancakes.”

“Can I help?” He heard you come closer, and he could smell your body wash. It was fruity and playful; something from Victoria’s Secret or Lush, a store like that. It went so well with your natural fragrance, Jay had to resist the urge to sniff the air.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Jay replied, kneeling down to find where the pans were stashed. It was his house, but his wife had reorganized the kitchen to her liking, so he had trouble finding things.

“I want to help,” you said, and Jay looked up at you. A mistake. How could he refuse those earnest eyes of yours?

“Yeah, sure,” he said, hoping he came off as nonchalant. He gave you some instructions, well-aware that his voice was somewhat strained. Jay watched you bustle around the kitchen, shamelessly checking you out. Guilt nipped at him, but he reasoned that it was just looking. There was nothing wrong with looking. And when you wore little shorts like that, you were asking to be looked at, really.

Jay snapped himself out of it and returned his attention to cooking. He flipped the pancakes without using a spatula, and you clapped. “I wish I could do that,” you said.

“Here, I’ll show you.” Jay wrapped your hand around the end of the pan and covered it with his own. “You have to utilize a certain flick of the wrist, but put pressure on your index finger, your middle finger, and your thumb…” When you successfully flipped a pancake with his help, you giggled, and he felt warm. Like a proud father, he thought. Just like a proud father.

As you two ate breakfast together, he could see your happiness returning. You must have been so worried about your mother, and he was glad to see you shoveling pancakes in your mouth and laughing about some video your friend had sent you.

“You’ve got syrup all over your mouth,” Jay said, smiling. Before you could wipe it yourself, Jay wet his thumb and wiped it off, relishing in the opportunity to touch your lips. “I bet you were such a messy kid,” he murmured.

“I was,” you said with a self-deprecating laugh. “My mom was always running after me with Wet Wipes.”

Jay chuckled at the thought, retracting his thumb. “I’m sure she didn’t mind. You were probably a cute kid, too.”

You groaned. “I was so cute. I have no clue what happened.”

You got pretty, Jay thought.

“You think I’m pretty?” you asked, a smile playing on your lips, and Jay realized that he had carelessly complimented you.

Jay cleared his throat. “Of course you are,” he said, desperately trying to center himself. “You look just like your mother.”

You nodded, still looking pleased with the compliment, and Jay could feel his heart racing out of his shirt. You were going to be the death of him.

–

The next day, after dinner, (another collaboration between the two of you), you had announced that you would do the laundry. Jay shook his head and handed his plate to you. “You do the dishes,” he said, smiling slyly. “I’ll take care of the laundry.”

You begrudgingly took the plate and stacked it on top of yours. “I hate doing the dishes.”

Jay laughed and ruffled your hair as he walked past you. “Doing things you hate builds character,” he called behind his shoulder.

As soon as he got upstairs, he made a mad dash to your bedroom to retrieve your laundry basket. He didn’t have a lot of time. Jay opened your door and bent down to examine the white hamper. Pawing through your clothes, he shakingly retrieved a pair of your panties. It was painfully conservative. Weren’t girls your age supposed to be wanton little sluts? He held it up, examining it closely. Common sense told him to put it back, morality told him to put it in the hamper, and his own conscience was screaming at him to just drop the fucking panties. But something stronger compelled him to hold the panties to his nose and sniff them deeply. Your scent was intoxicating, and he sighed. Jay took a few more deep sniffs before he dropped the panties back into the hamper and walked down to the laundry room.

It was lockdown, he concluded as he set the basket down. Lockdown was driving him crazy, turning him into a libidinous beast. Never mind that it had only been three days - three days was enough. Three days of being forced to watch as your stepdaughter pranced around in shorts that just barely hid her tight little ass, of having to smell her, of knowing that there was pussy that he couldn’t get to…that would drive a monk to drink. As long as he didn’t act on it, Jay reasoned, he’d be fine.

Over the next week, you and Jay had fallen into a routine. You ate breakfast together, then you dispersed to your separate rooms- you had to do online school, and Jay had to navigate running a business over Zoom. You would eat lunch together, discussing the virus, your problems, or just comfortably sitting in silence.

Then you squirrel away back to your room. When that happened, Jay would generally do two things in an interchangeable order. He would either retire to his office and read a business management book or go over his emails, or he would rub his dick raw in his ensuite bathroom to the thought of stepdaughter pussy. Pornography wasn’t necessary; he could just close his eyes and imagine you in those stupid shorts, imagine you taking them off and crawling towards him, imagine his hands groping your forbidden body.

After that, he would cook dinner for the two of you, and you would watch a movie together. You liked to rest your head on his shoulder, saying that that’s how you and your mother would watch movies. So Jay would wrap his arm around you, his other hand clenching the armrest of the couch so tightly his knuckles turned white as he tried to fight off his basest urges. After that, you would go to your room, and Jay would go to his room and edge himself for half an hour.

Then, he would text your mother and tell her that he loved her.

–

A week after the lockdown had been announced, Jay checked his appearance in the mirror in the living room and frowned. He had a meeting in an hour, but he noticed that he was developing a unibrow. Normally, his wife would help him pluck the hairs.

You walked downstairs and noticed Jay scowling at himself. “What’s wrong?” you asked, standing next to him. By now, just your scent went straight to his cock, making it stir, and Jay sighed.

“Your mom’s not around, so now I’m turning into a caveman,” he said, pointing at his eyebrows.

Your face brightened. “I can pluck them for you!”

Jay’s face fell, but he quickly put on a mask of indifference. “Oh, you don’t have to, I can figure it out,” he said, waving his hand.

You reached out and grabbed his hand. “Please, Jay? It’ll be so fun. It’ll be therapeutic. Please?”

You were the devil, he decided, the devil cloaked in the vestments of a college student. “Fine,” he relented, and you cheered.

Jay wearily stood next to the mirror as you sprinted up the stairs to get your tweezers. You bounced back down shortly, opening and closing the tweezers with the steeliness of a surgeon.

“Sit down,” you ordered, pointing at the couch in the living room. Jay obeyed, sitting down on the far end of the couch. You straddled his waist.

“What are you doing?” Jay asked, his voice somewhat panicked.

“I have to get close to you,” you replied. Jay realized that his reaction was unwarranted and he was doing a shit job of acting like he didn’t want to fuck you, so he nodded.

As you plucked his eyebrow hairs, Jay rested his hand on her waist to stabilize you. He stared at you as you worked; you were so lovely when you focused. Jay decided not to fight it, just for now. He languidly rubbed a circle around your waist as you plucked his eyebrows, and his other hand rested on your knee. If Jay tried, he could almost forget who you were. He could just pretend like there was no relation, that you were a stranger, that it wasn’t wrong to feel like this.

“Done!” You put the tweezers on the side table and examined his brows by tilting his head this way and that. Jay continued looking at you. He leaned back so that he was resting fully on the armrest, and your chest pressed against his due to the slight shift in position.

Jay’s voice was low and rough. “How does it look?” His hand still caressed your waist over your hoodie, and he noted that you made no move to get up.

“Very nice,” you replied, both hands still on his face. “You look very handsome now.”

Jay smiled slightly, looking you up and down. “Yeah?”

You looked in his eyes and nodded. “Yeah.”

Jay wasn’t sure who had leaned in first, but he did know that he was the one who deepened the kiss. You tasted incredible, and you weren’t a bad kisser, either. Your lips were soft and you took your time; your hands still cupped his cheeks. Jay’s hand slipped from your waist and worked its way up your hoodie, resting on your stomach. His other hand crawled up your leg, and he was endlessly grateful that you wore those dolphin shorts all the time.

You were the one who probed your tongue at the entrance of his mouth, and you were the one who ran it along his teeth. He stroked his tongue along yours, tilting his head even further. Your hands slipped from his cheeks to rest on his shoulders.

Strangely enough, as he made out with his stepdaughter, Jay felt no qualms. All he could focus on was how good it felt, on how warm your little mouth was, on the way your body tensed as he ran his hands over you. Jay brought his hand higher, from your stomach to your ribs, until it was resting just below your breasts. He waited for you to pull away, to tell him to stop, but when you didn’t, he continued. Jay’s hand cupped your breast, and he briefly broke the kiss.

“You didn’t wear a bra?” he asked in an accusatory tone, kneading your breast.

You shook your head.

“You wicked little minx.”

You shrugged, placing your hands behind his neck. “I normally don’t wear bras around the house. I mean, it’s just you and me in here.”

“No,” Jay whispered. “It’s not ‘just’ me.” Jay leaned in to kiss you with renewed fervor. His other hand slipped up into your shorts, fondling your upper thigh. Gently, Jay began to push you down onto the couch, until he was resting his full body weight on top of you. His hand groped at your chest, and he used both of his hands to pull your hoodie off. Finally, finally, he would get to see your body without a massive piece of fabric hiding it.

Jay moaned as soon as he saw your naked torso. He momentarily stopped kissing you to suck your tits. Both of his hands ran up and down your thighs, and he relished in your little gasps and whimpers. Jay took his mouth off of your breast and looked up at you. “You like that?”

You nodded, your face contorted in pleasure. “I like it, Jay.”

You had all but given him the green light to do whatever he wanted to your body, and almost without his knowing he began grinding his hips against yours. After leaving sloppy kisses all over your breasts, Jay kissed you again, sucking your tongue over and over again.

He continued to rut against your clothed pussy, the friction assuaging the painful stiffness he felt in his cock. Jay knew he was pathetic. He knew how degenerate, how desperate, how sick he was. Only a freak would dry hump their stepdaughter on the couch. He didn’t even last an entire week. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to fully care, let alone to stop. Jay ground his crotch into yours, pressing you deeper into the couch, and he groaned in your mouth.

His hands were all over you now, stroking your back, your chest, your stomach, your thighs, and he was dimly aware of your own hands snaking up his shirt.

Jay broke the kiss again, sweat dripping down his nose. “You can’t tell anyone,” Jay said frantically as he began to unbuckle his belt. “Got that? Not your friends, not your classmates, not your mom. Do you understand me?”

You nodded, but that wasn’t enough. “Do you understand me, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you said hoarsely, your lips already swollen. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Jay tossed his belt to the side and tugged his jeans down. “Our little secret, right?”

You shimmied out of your shorts. “Our little secret.”

Jay slid your panties down your legs and parted your legs, pushing one up the couch and leaving the other to hang off of the side. He glanced at you as he worked his cock a few times. “Are you a virgin?”

You shook your head.

“Good.”

“Why?”

“I’d never fuck a virgin the way I’m about to fuck you,” Jay said. Your eyes widened in apprehension, and Jay smiled.

He pushed himself inside of you roughly. As soon as he felt your pussy tighten around his cock, its warmth enveloping him, he swore. “Oh, fuck.” Jay kept your legs pushed open as he inches himself into you. At first, he shallowly thrusts into you with about half of his length. You’re already shuddering like a whore, whining and shaking, but you aren’t wet enough for his liking. Jay reached his hand down and stroked at the area above your vagina lips, eventually finding your clitoris. He rubbed it, just enough to get you nice and sopping wet. It didn’t take long, either; you must have been as pent-up as he had been, judging by the way you were gasping. Even just a few inches had you stuttering out some words that would make your mother blush.

He pulled out of you slightly, swirling his hips, before slamming his cock into you again. You moaned, a sound so gorgeous that he had to continue. Jay pounded your pussy mercilessly, his hands keeping your legs split open. His balls slapped against your thighs almost painfully as he kept up his pace.

“Should have done this at the start,” Jay huffed. “Should have been inside you the second lockdown started.”

You opened your eyes. “Why didn’t you?”

Good question. Why hadn’t he just fucked you like this when you had come running to him for comfort? Why had he bothered waiting? For propriety? For politeness? None of that mattered. The only thing that mattered now was the feeling of your pussy gripping his cock.

Jay smiled slightly as he imagined how your mother would react to this: her daughter splayed out on the couch, her tits bouncing up and down, her hand covering her mouth so her moans won’t echo all over the house, and her stepfather in between her legs, fucking her ruthlessly. The scary thing was, Jay didn’t think he could stop even if your mother had walked in. Your pussy felt too good, too tight, too warm, too inviting.

You were so wet that Jay could hear it, his cock making obscene noises as it ravaged your hole. Jay pulled out of you, breathing heavily. He dragged you from the couch and laid you flat on the rug.

“On all fours,” he said raggedly. “Now.”

You were weak, but you obeyed his instructions, displaying your red, aggravated pussy for him. Jay mounted you and fucked you like a dog, chasing his orgasm. His hands groped around your chest and he grabbed your tits while he pounded you. He leaned his head back and let out a primal moan.

Soon, your arms gave out and you collapsed onto the floor. Jay didn’t pull out of you, couldn’t pull out of you. He braced his arms on either side of you and slammed into you, pressing his entire body weight onto you.

He felt his orgasm approaching, and he sped up, grunting and groaning. Jay felt like he would die if he didn’t cum, and he fucked into you mindlessly. When his orgasm hit, he let out a strangled scream. He could feel the pleasure from his cock all the way to his fingertips; his hairline tingled as he emptied himself out in your pussy.

Jay didn’t know what he would do next. He didn’t know how you would act around each other. But he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had to do this again and again with you.

#jay x reader #jay smut #enhypen smut #enha smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction #I don't like the title...

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