#i ripped him to absolute pieces and he held me and called me gentle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

ST. PAUL

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warnings: smut, daddy kink, 18+

—

Harry loves being the center of attention.

It’s really no surprise at this point that he enjoys when tens of thousands of people are watching him perform.

He also secretly loves that people love his wife as well. He swore sometimes he thinks his wife is more popular than him during tour.

YN was didn’t come out from backstage to stand and watch the show right away like she usually did - she was working through some merch issues with Jeff.

Harry noticed that the fans were continuously looking back to where his wife would usually stand for the show.

Between one of the sets, Harry goes about ready some of the posters that fans have brought and he huffs out a faux affronted remark as he reads one out loud.

“I’m only here for your hot wife.”

He jokingly glares at the fan as the crowds laughs, “M’gonna have t’have a talk with security about these posters! Y’hitting on m’wife in front me! She’s not even out here, tough luck mate.”

Then he shimmies away as another song comes on.

A few minutes later, a sign pops up that says, “I want to taste YN’s watermelon sugar.”

Harry gives the person holding the sign a look of disbelief and shakes his head in disapproval at the poster before turning away.

“Should I text him?”

Harry reads from a fan’s board, he holds up his left hand and wriggles his ring finger that is donned in his wedding band, “Y’asking the wrong person, love. I’ve been locked down f’eleven years, don’t know much about the new age of dating!”

He goes on to say, “My only advice is if he’s playing games - don’t do it. Trash, trash, trash. Not for you.”

When YN finally arrives to her usual spot, everyone tries to get a glimpse from where they’re at. It was a thing, everyone wants to not only get a glimpse of Harry Styles’ wife but also her outfit.

There were hundreds of instagram accounts now dedicated to their matching tour outfits.

The short dress she was wearing was made of the same material and color as his shirt *** and she looked stunning as always.

The singer notices all of the attention dart to the side of the arena, where he also spots his beautiful wife smiling with Glenne as they go to their usual spot.

When She ends, Harry walks down the catwalk with a exaggerated pout on his face, giving his wife a pointed look, “I just want to remind everyone, this show’s about me! I’m quite the narcissist so I know m’wife is gorgeous but we’re here f’me!”

The crowd erupts in laughter and playful ‘boos’ as a dimply smile spreads on his face as he adjust his in-ears.

YN bites the inside of her lip, holding back her own giggles at her husband’s boyish antics before she joins along in the boos.

“Alright, alright, no booing me now,” Harry titters like the comedian he is, “Just remindin’ y’who this is all about. Me! But let’s give a round of applause to m’wife who deals with the narcissism on a daily basis!”

The arena does so, thousands of fans capturing their interaction on their phones for people to coo over later.

YN rolls her eyes, laughing at some Glenne says before and then Harry is starting his next song with a few glances over to her until they meet eyes and he blows her a kiss which she returns.

And then a poster pops up in the pit that Harry knows he has to snag - gets a brilliant idea so he asks the fan to pass it forward.

He props his mic back into its stand before turning the poster around and showing it to his wife on the side.

“Show us your tits, respectfully.”

YN flips him off with a giggle before teasing at the collar of her dress which makes Harry’s jaw drop dramatically and he gives her a surprised look before shaking his head. ***

“Don’t y’dare flash the goods! I’m just jokin’ around, this is a family show….” He pauses before prompting the crowd, “Or is it?”

As he performs Lights Up, YN steps forward to the barricade to call over one of the fan who is awestruck as she stumbles over to YN.

“Could I borrow your sign?” YN asks the fan - who was dressed in a sequined suit that looked amazing and she had to compliment her on that too.

“Uh…yeah. He-here,” The girl stutters nervously, passing over the posterboard with shaky hands at meeting YN.

She was sooooo pretty up close, smelled like chanel number five, and smiled warmly enough to make the fan feel comfort.

“Thanks, I’ll give it right back,” YN assures her, stepping back over to Glenne, they giggle together before YN holds it over her head.

“Choke Me Daddy.”

Harry spots it in a mere minute, reading it over and unable to hide the moody, dark expression that flashes across his face before he covers it up by looking elsewhere.

Just the reaction she wanted.

Harry stay away from that side of the stage for a little, YN knows it’s to prevent a very public boner from her behavior.

YN hands it back, agrees to take a few pictures with the girl and her friends before they go back to enjoy the concert.

The girl who lent her the sign goes on to make tiktoks about the meeting.

“She was super nice and giggly.”

“She let us take a ton of selfies.”

“When she held it up, Harry like instantly got pissed or turned on or something because he gave her this look and it was intense.”

“Harry was staring at her like the whole concert after she held up that sign.”

“It seemed like YN was purposefully ignoring his signals to make him even more annoyed.”

“Her ring was so pretty.”

“I couldn’t tell who was more attractive, Harry or YN, I think they’re literally the hottest couple alive.”

When the concert ends, Harry bolts off stage - waving and blowing kisses to his adoring fans before disappearing into the back.

YN is waiting patiently by the entry, where she usually was, her stomach was tight and bracing for her husband’s reaction.

She wanted to play.

They both knew it.

Hell, the whole arena had known she wanted it.

And to her absolute disappointment, Harry arrives back stage and pulls her into a tight hug. He pulls back gently to kiss her with his large palm cupping her face.

“Hi baby, m’exhuasted. I’ll shower at the hotel,” Harry rasps, peppering a few more soft kisses before intertwining their fingers.

YN has to hide her disappointment that it wasn’t Harry coming back stage, shoving her into his dressing room, and giving it to her hard for the sign she held up.

Nope, during the ride to the hotel, he was cuddly and like a puppy - whining until YN massaged his neck and allowed him to lay his head in her lap.

He doesn’t bring up the sign, just relaxes quietly until they get to the hotel and then just grabs her hand to lead her to their room.

YN tries to settle down the itchy arousal in her belly when Harry goes to shower.

She changes out of her dress into one of Harry’s shirts and goes about folding and organizing both of their suitcases.

After the shower stops, YN hears Harry moves around for a moment until he’s opening the bathroom door.

“Do you want to order room service? I’m star-“

She’s cut off when her husband’s hand reaches down and intertwines into her hair - gentle by firmly pulling her to stand by it and tugging her back into his hard chest.

“Harr-“

“I don’t think so, baby. I think s’daddy, yeah?�� Harry hisses against the shell of her ear, “Do y’think I’d forget about y’holding up a sign that said choke me daddy?”

It’s easy for her to slip in a fuzzier, submissive state because she knows her husband will keep her safe and always take care of her.

“You showed that sign fir-“ YN begins to argue back but Harry pulls at her hair to silence her.

“Y’want t’argue or do you want t’be a good girl f’daddy?” Harry asks lowly, his voice threaten and void of any of his normal warmth, “I think ten is a good number, hm? Ten t’your arse?”

“But-“ YN loved to push him, she wanted those ten but she also liked to rile Harry up which was even better when he was adrenaline high from a show.

“Say ‘yes daddy’ or I’ll add five,” He warns, his voice had a delicious rasp from singing and he wraps his hand into her thong and rips it - making her yelp as the elastic snaps against her skin.

YN’s heart is pounding out of her chest, usually she was the one who took Harry by surprise - not the other way around.

Her skin was aching already from the brush burn of the fabric being torn from her sensitive skin, scalp pulsing from the tension on her hair.

“You were so obvious on stage, H. Once I held up that sign, your face gave everything away - that you’re so easy f’me - it’s embarrassing. I’ve been locked down for eleven years,” She imitates his accent in a bratty bite.

Harry snaps, nearly picking her up as he manhandles her over to the large hotel bed and she finds herself on her belly with Harry landing a hard slap to her right cheek.

“Y’think you’re s’fuckin’ cute? Don’t act like it doesn’t get y’soaked seeing all those fans cry f’me and I come home t’you,” He chuckles meanly, “And y’want to call me desperate? Look in the mirror, love.”

YN wriggles a bit but doesn’t have much time before the second and third hit with his rings still on - making it hurt even more.

“Count f’me, sweetheart,” Harry hums, thumbing open her cheeks to lean down and teasing lick her tighter entrance before letting go to land the fourth one.

“F-four,” She chokes out, feeling herself drip onto the sheets and her nipples tighten against the cotton fabric of the shirt she still has on.

“Four what.”

The air in the room is thick, humid as she mumbles against the pillows, “Four daddy.”

“Louder.”

“Four, s’four daddy,” YN moans, tacking on the fifth to her words when he lands on her left cheek and she can tell how sore she’ll be in the morning already.

“Gonna give me fifteen, baby? Or are y’done?” His voice is cautious, checking in to see where she’s at - if they add five more that means she really wants to play. If he stops at five, they both know that means she only wanted to be roughed up a little bit for the night.

“More, please.” YN gasps, shaking her bum in his face before it’s caught with the hardest hit yet and she yelps in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

After they reach fifteen, Harry is flipping her on her back and tugging her shirt off until her breasts spill out and he tugs roughly at a nipple.

“Daddy, please, please,” She whines, her thighs were damp and she was absolutely pulsating for his touch on her.

“I think I deserve an apology f’your behavior tonight,” He whispers against her puffy lips, his cock slipping against her mound lazily, “Desperate f’me even in front of tens of thousands of people. It’s quite cute, darling.”

“Fuck me, fuck me,” YN presses her lips to his eagerly, moaning when he slips between her folds and his tip bumps against her clit.

“Y’have no fuckin’ manners, pet. I think I’ve spoiled y’too much,” Harry admonishes with faux disappoint, pulling back until their centers aren’t touching and landing a smack to her mound.

Then he’s reaching down to thumb at her bud with a relentless pleasure but as soon as she starts to lift her hips into the feeling - he pulls away and tucks two fingers up inside her - repeats that quite a few times.

She felt like she was on fire, she needed him so badly that she wasn’t able to take much more of the teasing.

They usually played for longer, hours sometimes but on tour - it was hard to, both of them bone-tired and knowing they have to get up early and do it again tomorrow.

Harry knows his wife like the back of his hand, knows when she needs more and when she’s hit her limit for the night.

When he sees hot, fat tears spilling from the corner of her eyes, lips full and swollen, and she’s mewling, “Daddy.”

He knows she’s nearly at her limit, he slips inside her with no resistance and has to push for a moment because it feels that euphoric.

“Baby, fuck. Always feel s’fuckin’ good. This body was made f’me, yeah? S’addicitng, s’warm and tight,” Harry praises his wife, kissing her before tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth.

“S’for you, all of it. Ha-Daddy, I’m so close already, do it - c’mon,” She begs, legs wrapping around his narrow waist and pressing her heels into his bum.

They both know what she wants but he wants to hear her say it.

“C’mon, tell me. Say it and I’ll give it t’you,” He rumbles as he thrusts in with loud, smacking noises echoing through the room.

She blinks up at him with twinkling doe eyes, a small smirk on the side of her lips, as she says in a kittenish voice, “Choke me, daddy.”

And like that, his hand is collaring her throat and lightly pressing down until her breathe catches in her throat.

“Come f’me, m’desperate lil’ thing. All those people with those nasty signs and all I can think about it y’perfect cunt,” He murmurs in her ears, pressing just a bit more and then just like clockwork - she tenses and begins to come and he lightens his grip and releases when he follows soon after her.

👀👀👀👀👀

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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i've been keeping a list of possible prompts for you and there's one i have no memory of adding that just says "courtesan nmj????" so i guess that's the prompt you're getting lmao

What Does the Fox Say - ao3

“Second Madame Nie!” a disciple shouted, rushing into her little garden. She didn’t recognize him, but he was solidly built and well-muscled like most of the others – truly, the Unclean Realm was a rapturous feast for one with eyes to see it. Yum, yum. “Second Madame Nie, I have bad news!”

Boo. She hated bad news: bad news meant she’d have to do something, usually, and right now she was seated very comfortably in a pleasant piece of sun in the garden path that’d been made up just for her and to her preferences, with her feet up on a chair and a full plate of fruit from the kitchen on the table in front of her just begging to be devoured, morsel by delicious morsel.

Her schedule was packed!

“I regret to tell you, but your husband has been killed!”

“Oh,” she said, frowning slightly. “Has he? How obnoxious of him.”

How unreliable. Men.

She sighed.

“Second Madame – Second Madame – you don’t understand!” The disciple was all red-eyed and weepy, which was a look she liked, especially in big, stout men like this. The salt added a bit of spice to the whole thing. “You must flee at once! He was killed by Sect Leader Wen in an act of outright aggression – Sect Leader Wen has declared war – the Wen sect is invading!”

She nodded and picked up another lychee to start peeling it. She’d get around to fleeing in her own time. As long as this Wen sect or whatnot was being led by a man, she wasn’t terribly concerned.

“They intend to wipe out the inheritance of Qinghe Nie! They will rip out the child in your belly!”

She hummed noncommittally. Really, how attached was she to having a child of her own? Really?

“They will slaughter civilians – execute Nie-gongzi –”

Her hands stilled.

“What,” she said, and the disciple took a step back automatically, proving that he, at least, had something more of a survival instinct than her late husband did. “Hurt my little meat bun? My darling rice roll? My savory zongzi?”

She stood up, diminutive height and over-large belly and frilly clothing doing absolutely nothing to diminish the vaguely menacing aura that darkened the sky around her. She bared her teeth.

“Who does this upstart Wen dog think he is?!”

The disciple blinked owlishly, but nodded, seeming relieved that she’d finally accepted his concern, though she could see on his face that he was thinking that her reasoning was – characteristically – a little strange. But then again, and she could see this thought process on his far too honest face, it was well known that the second Madame Nie been quite strange ever since Sect Leader Nie had found her in some lonesome place with no family or background and brought her back to be his new wife nevertheless.

Such a charming man. Pity about his loss, really.

“You have to flee at once, we can’t possibly fight so many people,” the disciple said once more, and this time she nodded in agreement. “We can escort you to a hidden exit –”

“No!” a little voice called. “We can’t go.”

She turned to look, and there was the little pork-and-shrimp dumpling himself, chubby-cheeked and earnest-eyed, looking as delicious as always.

“What do you mean, fish cake?” she asked. “Of course we have to go. Didn’t you hear what this strapping young man said? This Wen person wants to kill you!”

“If Father is dead, then I’m the sect leader,” her stepson said. He was serious and solemn in a way that made her want to pinch his cheeks and bury her face into his belly to blow raspberries, and also possibly to eat him right up, flesh and marrow and gristle and all. “That means it’s my responsibility to preserve the Nie sect.”

“Nie-gongzi, no!” the disciple cried, throwing himself to his knees in a dramatic display of loyalty. “You would only die – far better for you to run, and live!”

“Then isn’t the same true for everyone else?” the tasty little dish asked, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. Possibly he was trying to put on a fierce expression, maybe, she couldn’t quite tell sometimes. He was so cute. “Why should I live, and them not? I refuse to buy my life with their deaths!”

“But – Nie-gongzi –”

Her charming little honey cake shook his head and held up a hand to stop the disciple, turning to look at her instead.

“Second Mother,” he said, and he had that wholesome trusting expression again that was such a perfect little one-shot-kill to the heart, ugh. “You always said you’re the best at hiding. The best in the world, no one better among all the gods or demons!”

She was, too. She couldn’t help but preen a little, proud.

“– can’t you do something?”

“Oh, darling cabbage bun,” she said, not without fondness. “I can hide myself from even the net of Heaven itself if I so choose, from gods and demons alike, and I can most certainly hide a small group from any mortal eyes that dare to look, if you don’t mind being a little tiny bit dishonorable about the business. But an entire sect? That’s a bit much, even for someone as talented and skilled as me.”

Her stepson looked up at her, all straight-steel sincerity and upright righteousness wrapped into a perfectly edible little snack-sized package. “If we split them up, the sect could be small groups,” he said eagerly. “Couldn’t you do something then?”

He was so cute, and he trusted her. He trusted her, believed in her, felt that she could perform miracles with a wave of her sleeve if only she so wished.

It was awful.

She couldn’t bear it.

“Oh all right, you nummy little slice of roast pork belly,” she said, yielding. “But I’m telling you now, it won’t be the least bit honorable! There’s only so many excuses you can come up with for having a lot of strong men with wide shoulders and women with thick thighs hanging around, and not a single one of them has the slightest bit to do with what you people consider to be appropriate.”

“That’s all right. Preserving human life comes first, always.”

The disciple looked between them, clearly completely confused. Clearly all his effort had been spent on developing the muscles in his arms (quite nice) rather than his brain (quite slow).

“What?” he said. “What’s happening?”

“We’re saving the sect,” Nie Mingjue announced happily, clapping his hands together. Too precious, too precious entirely; she’d have to make sure no one else even thought about going near her darling little snackling. “Tell everyone to prepare to evacuate.”

“That will take too long,” she said, and smiled, with teeth. “Let me call some friends to help.”

When the Wen sect arrived at the Unclean Realm, they found the gate open.

That was unexpected enough, but when they entered, they found that the entire place had emptied out – not just of people, but of everything else, too. There wasn’t a single intact chair or table in the entire place, not a scrap of cloth nor a bit of food, like it’d been swept clean by locusts or wild monkeys come to pilfer whatever they could.

Even the paving stones where arrays had been laid out by the Nie sect’s ancestors had been pried up and carted away.

Sect Leader Wen ordered a search, but there wasn’t any trace of it – of the people, of the stuff, anything.

No one ever found out what happened.

Jin Guangyao despised social events, he’d found.

It was one thing when it was something he’d planned himself, where the work was interesting enough to distract him, but when he was an honored guest for someone else…miserable. Utterly miserable.

The only thing more miserable was when the host was his erstwhile father, from whom he’d forcefully extracted recognition. With Wen Ruohan as his backer, indulging his favorite torturer as if a beloved pet, there wasn’t much Jin Guangshan could do to refuse, and neither could he force Jin Guangyao to do anything on his behalf, either. And so Jin Guangyao, sitting as always by Wen Ruohan’s side, right beneath his sons, was now an honored guest at his father’s house, getting offered his pick of prostitutes as if the man had no notion of the irony.

Maybe he didn’t. Jin Guangyao couldn’t quite tell if his father had just forgotten his origins, thinking his bastard son too unimportant to remember the details of, or whether it was meant as a deliberate insult – who could tell?

“Oh, right,” the simpering idiot in front of him, a nephew or cousin of some sort to the sect leader, said. “Our dear Jin Guangyao is known not to like the gentle flower queens, even when they come from the finest houses in Lanling. Isn’t that right, cousin?”

Jin Guangyao’s fists clenched. A deliberate insult, then.

Despite that, his face remained neutral. Instead, he chuckled and said, “The appeal is limited. After all, I have seen the best of them.”

Beside him, Wen Ruohan nodded and smirked. He appreciated Jin Guangyao’s devotion to his mother, though Jin Guangyao suspected it was because he thought it funny that Jin Guangyao would bother to honor such a lowly woman – but what he thought didn’t matter, not really. All that mattered was that he let Jin Guangyao pay his respects to her to his heart’s content.

“Well, you’re in luck!” the idiot Jin Zixun said, looking absurdly smug. “We have something of a different flavor than the usual tonight – we’ve invited entertainment from the local branch of Splendid Spring.”

Jin Guangyao barely managed to avoid rolling his eyes.

The Splendid Spring Palace was a series of brothels that had popped up fully formed just about everywhere some years back, with madams and girls and musicians and bodyguards of all sorts. It was so patently a political move that Jin Guangyao had barely bothered to pay attention to it once he’d become actually powerful, and Wen Ruohan hadn’t paid attention to it at all. After all, in the unlikely event that the business really was backed by a cultivation sect that didn’t care about its face any longer, anyone who needed to use such a façade to gather power was clearly beneath notice.

Jin Guangyao had paid only very little attention, but to different and unusual aspects of the place: by all accounts, they were surprisingly decent employers as far as places like that went. They didn’t steal girls or accept unwilling goods – they had some connection with the merchant caravans, or at least one of the companies that helped coordinate routes and provide protection to such things, and they were as meticulous about checking things over as they were about seeking refunds if they were dissatisfied – and they did accept married girls fleeing unhappy marriages, which not everyone did. They did buy up all the girls in the local markets wherever they were, but they swept them away and brought them back transformed, even the ones that wouldn’t sell because they were too ugly; Jin Guangyao assumed that meant they had people who were talented in make-up and clothing, since the usual rumors of the girls being blessed with a yao’s enchantment were obviously ridiculous and nothing more than the usual marketing gimmicks that brothels since time immemorial had tried.

Even once they had the girls in hand, the places were pretty decent: they had physicians on staff to help with the usual side effects of the business, made sure their girls were clean and healthy, and were said to even limit the number of customers a girl would be obliged to take on in a given evening…honestly, knowing as he did the brothel business, Jin Guangyao sometimes wondered how they’d managed to bespell enough people to even make money in the early days. At any rate, whatever they’d done, it’d worked, because by now they had a solid enough reputation to trade on.

In short: a decent enough place, far better than the usual run of the mill. Once he’d had the ability to do so, he’d even pulled a few strings and arranged for the better of his mother’s old compatriots to end up there, since he couldn’t convince them to leave their old professions behind entirely.

Anyway, if they also seemed to have a sideline in information brokering and assassinations, well, let them. In the cultivation world, where the only thing that mattered was strength, real strength.

A little thing like that wouldn’t make any real difference.

Or so Jin Guangyao had thought.

He found himself re-thinking that, though, when the entertainment in question came out. There were the usual set of attractive (albeit in a wider variety of shapes and sizes than usually seen) dancers, dressed up in silks that seemed actually high quality, and plenty of strapping young men carrying sabers – dancers as well, once assumed, to provide some spice to the entertainment, and implicitly on the offer for men who cut their sleeves or women with more flexibility, like widows or ones with especially permissive husbands. Wen Ruohan’s wives were in that latter category, and they were already whispering to each other excitedly, looking at them.

They’d even brought in the local madame, who was…

Well, she was actually breathtaking, even by Jin Guangyao’s extremely jaded standards. She had hair that fell almost all the way to her ankles, shimmering in the light, and dark eyes shining with liveliness, a smooth and ageless face that simultaneously suggested youth and health but also winked at knowable experience, the features characteristic of what his mother’s employers had called the ‘fox-face’. As if to emphasize that, the lady was wrapped in fox-fur and draped in embroidered brocade, with little stylized foxes running up and down the hems of her clothing and along the gazy silk draped on her shoulders.

It ought to have looked absurd, looked gaudy and overwrought and overdone, but it didn’t.

She was a thousand dreams of wealth and beauty and power and sex appeal all wrapped up in one, and even Jin Guangyao – who was in his personal preferences quite firmly a cutsleeve – couldn’t help but intrigued by her, wondering what it might be like to touch the hem of such a glorious creature.

And next to her…

The lady was accompanied by two men that seemed completely different from each other. One was a slender and winsome young man, fluttering his eyelashes from behind a fan with a charming smile, emanating the appeal of softness and weakness, ready to be indulged. While the other…

Jin Guangyao swallowed.

He was the exact opposite of the first man. Clearly strong, muscular and powerful, and tall to the point of towering, with wide shoulders and a narrow waist, a chest that you could lean your head against and an ass that begged to have someone’s hands on it – and there were his hands, big and broad, perfect for holding someone down or up if they so wished and of a size that was very promising as to what was only hinted at under his clothes. His face was hidden behind a veil as if he were a woman, marking him, like his comrade, as one of the available courtesans of the Splendid Spring, but his body was visible under clothing clearly cut to put it to the best advantage.

And oh, what advantages it had…!

“It seems we found something to the tastes of dear cousin Guangyao after all,” the idiot said mockingly, sniggering and snorting like the pig he was, and for once Jin Guangyao didn’t even care.

“Who’s the woman in front?” Wen Ruohan asked, ignoring their interplay. He seemed utterly fascinated, almost spellbound, and Jin Guangyao couldn’t blame him one bit. If this woman had been at the same brothel as his mother, there wouldn’t have even been room for jealousy or shame; his mother would have gone straight up to her to ask for some tips. “She seems…familiar, somehow.”

“That’s the madame of the Splendid Spring,” Jin Zixun said proudly, as if he’d done anything at all in relation to this – nonsense, of course. Everyone know which brothels were backed by the Jin sect, and Splendid Spring wasn’t one of them. He was acting as if he deserve a pat on the back just for the introduction! “That means she’s not for sale.”

His smile faded a little, twisting in a small bit of bitterness. “Or so she told my uncle, anyway…although I’m sure if it were Sect Leader Wen asking, the answer would undoubtedly be different.”

Probably because Jin Guangshan couldn’t slaughter prostitutes with impunity if they said no to him, whereas no one could stop Wen Ruohan from doing any damn thing he pleased.

Wen Ruohan grunted, pleased by the answer – he was a possessive man, in the rare events that he did exert himself in the realm of women, and there had been more than one instance where he’d stolen away some girl his sons had been eyeing first just for the joy of having had her first – and raised a hand, catching the lady’s eye and gesturing for her to come over, which she did.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She laughed. “You can call me Hu Jiuwei. With the ‘Hu’ being the character for fox.”

Jin Guangyao tried not to choke. There were false names and then there were false names – the lady’s theme was already clearly related to foxes, given her fox-face and fox-fur lining and the foxes embroidered onto her robes. Was the over-the-top name really necessary?

“It’s a fake name,” she added, unnecessarily.

“I see,” Wen Ruohan said, sounding a little choked himself. Possibly it was the woman calling herself ‘Foxy Ninetails’ and then kindly reassuring them all that the name was false as if she thought them too dumb to figure it out that was tripping him up a little. Jin Guangyao couldn’t tell if she was doing it deliberately in order to make her frankly inhuman beauty a little less frightening, or maybe she was blessed with so much beauty that she hadn’t bothered to cultivate her brain at all. “Are you our entertainment for the evening?”

She smiled, and any complaints Jin Guangyao (or indeed Wen Ruohan) might have had about her intelligence faded away at once.

It was that type of smile.

You could wreck nations with that type of smile. Jin Guangyao couldn’t help but wonder: how had a woman this extraordinary ended up in a brothel, of all places? How had no one snatched her up to keep her all for himself before now?

“My sons and I –” she gestured at the two behind her, “– would be more than happy to provide you with all the entertainment you could possibly want.”

Her smile widened.

“We’ve been hoping for an opportunity like this for a long time.”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #second madame nie #jin guangyao #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #what does the fox say

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inkykeiji · 4 years

Text

all she want is payback for the way i always play that shit

characters: dabi | todoroki touya

genre: smut + angst

notes: aaaah yikes, sorry it’s so long???? the first part of a companion piece to i can take you there but baby you wont make it back; touya + reader have been fooling around for just under six months, our innocent lil good girl reader is the teeniest, tiniest bit more firm now. jealousy makes people crazy, yk how it is. touya is marginally softer for like, a second or two. | title credit: save that shit by lil peep

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), public sex, cheating, drug use, generally toxic relationship (possessiveness, jealousy), size difference, dubcon if u squint i guess???, the tiniest bit of cumplay

words: 11k

synopsis:

Why can’t you just be mine? You want to ask, the words searing into your tongue, refusing to leave your lips.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick, angel,” he chastises softly, brushing your hair away from your clammy forehead as another shuddery sob rips through your chest.

“I want you,” you say instead, words garbled.

“You have me, baby,”

“All of you,”

His chest heaves with an exasperated sigh, head turning away and gazing up at the ceiling. “You have all of me, princess,”

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

In early February, your parents finally tie the knot.

“Now it’ll be official,” you remember Touya whispering in your ear, the night before. “I will officially be your niichan,”

The wedding is gorgeous—elegant and classy, just like Rei herself. A wintertime wedding is so beautiful, you tell Rei as she’s busy being fawned over by several stylists, adding the finishing touches to her hair and make up. She’s absolutely stunning, a lacy ivory dress clinging delicately to her small frame, accentuating her natural curves. It glitters gracefully in the pale sunshine streaming through the large bay windows, sparkling any time she moves.

Touya doesn’t sit with his family. Their eyes sear into your flesh, although Touya keeps his stare pointedly in front of him, glaring at the alter. But you can feel their gaze on your skin, can feel their eyes travelling up your body slowly, critically, sending shivers skittering up your spine. It makes your skin crawl, both of your hands curling around Touya’s, a tangled knot of fingers resting in your lap.

You’ve never seen his other siblings before. Rei talks about them sometimes, but never when Touya’s around. You know that once every month, the three of them join Rei and your father for a family dinner, but you’ve never had the pleasure of attending.

You’d missed the first family dinner by fluke, held up late at the library studying for midterms. But every occasion after that, Touya had made absolute certain that you weren’t there. You hadn’t thought much of it the first time it happened, too enraptured and tangled up in Touya to care, grinding desperately against him in the backseat of his car as his tongue forced its way down your throat. But then it happens again, and again, and it becomes too coincidental to ignore.

“Why do we never go to those dinners with your siblings?” you’d tried to bring it up subtly the third time you guys skipped out on dinner, heart thudding in your chest and gentle voice quivering slightly.

Touya sighed, raking a hand through his hair roughly, eyes not straying from the road ahead of him. It’s complicated, he told you in a quiet voice, and you were so startled, so shocked by his sheer, unadulterated honesty, that you couldn’t find your voice, rendering you incapable of replying. Touya didn’t bother looking over at you, didn’t need to, to know that his response surprised you.

The other Todoroki’s are all strikingly beautiful—not that you expected any less. The one with pure snow-white hair and gunmetal grey eyes captures your attention the most, looking as if he’s around your age. He smirks at you when he catches your stare, giving you a small, polite nod—though you can see that tiny glint of mischief in his eye, the same glint you’ve seen in Touya’s a thousand times before. Choking on a surprised gasp, you rapidly avert your gaze, eyes snapping back to the pile of hands in your lap.

Touya notices, of course, because Touya notices everything. He doesn’t say anything, but his hand squeezes yours tightly, just a little too tight to be comforting, as his eyes dart to his siblings across the aisle, glare losing most of its heat when it meets his brother’s stare.

Tense shoulders relax, falling slowly with the measured breath he exhales as he turns back to glower at the alter.

You know other guests are staring at you—you can feel their eyes, too. You know the pair of you look more like a couple than siblings, know you should both probably put some distance between yourselves, at least try to keep some semblance of normalcy, some masquerade of a typical sibling relationship.

But Touya’s knee is bouncing, and he seems…unsure. It’s unsettling, really—Touya always seems so confident in himself—and you can almost feel the tense anxiety rolling off of him in heavy waves. So instead of scooting away from him or untangling your hands, your other palm finds a spot high on the thigh pressed tightly against yours, small fingers beginning to knead the flesh.

Sapphire eyes find yours, and he gazes down at you with an odd sense of fondness in his stare, the tiniest smile ghosting across his lips. It makes your chest swell with pride, makes you want to grab his face and crash his lips against yours, forces a tingling warmth to spread through your veins. It shouldn’t, but it does.

He barely lets you leave his side that day, keeps you glued to his body, an arm wrapped tightly around you. He’s a constant, looming, protective presence, glaring at anyone who dares to look at you for more than a second.

“Touya-nii,” you laugh a little while leaving the ceremony, watching as one of your cousins immediately averts their eyes. “That’s my cousin,”

“And I’m your brother,” he says flatly.

You suppose he has a point.

The two of you find your parents and the rest of Touya’s siblings—yours too, now, you guess—standing around a limousine, beckoning you over.

Rei begins to explain their protocol for pictures—and yes, you both have to come—but you aren’t listening. Their eyes are on you again, you can feel them, gliding up your skin, taking sharp note of the way Touya has you pressed flush against him, the way your arm is wrapped firmly around his waist, little fingers twisting in his suit jacket as your heart begins to speed up.

Touya can feel it, too, and he looks down at you in concern, his thumb caressing your shoulder, before he meets the stares of his siblings with a glare so ferocious you’re surprised it doesn’t turn them to ash on the spot.

They offer for you to ride in the limo with the rest of them, Touya cutting them off as he curtly declines their offer—no thanks, you’ll take his car instead and meet them there.

Rei tries to reason with him, but the pointed look he gives her causes her to trail off mid-sentence, holding his eyes for a moment before a sad smile settles on her face, nodding once.

✰ ✰ ✰

Shinjuku Gyoen is nothing short of stunning in the wintertime. It had snowed this morning, around six AM, blanketing the garden in a soft layer of pure white powder, glittering delicately in the early afternoon sun.

Wide eyes drink it in as your face presses against the glass of the car window, your breath fogging it up. There’s something so whimsical and dreamy about snow, you think, about the way it softens even the sharpest of edges, the way it makes everything look prettier.

“You’re so cute,” Touya remarks, watching you from the corner of his eye, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“I’ve never been here during the winter,” you murmur in response, still captivated by the grounds.

Rei and your father are immediately whisked away by several photographers to do their photos alone, leaving the rest of you to litter the parking lot.

But the moment they disappear from view, Touya’s got you trapped between his body and the cold metal of his car, lips moving against the shell of your ear as he whispers filthy promises, things that force soft whimpers from your lips, things that make your legs feel like they’re about to give out as heat pools deep in your belly. He knows, of course, smirks and teases you even more when he feels you squeeze your thighs together helplessly, tells you you’re his perfect little slut and vows to reward you for being so good as soon as he can.

His other siblings are staring, you try to tell him in a quiet, broken whine.

“Oh yeah?” he breathes, pushing his hips harder into yours, practically grinding his hard cock against your waist. “Let ‘em. I bet they’d love to watch me fuck you stupid, huh? What do you think about that, baby? You want them to watch?”

A pathetic sound hitches in your throat and you bury your burning face in his neck, a low, wicked laugh rumbling deep in his chest.

He doesn’t let up on the absolute filth spilling from his mouth until he can hear your father hollering in the distance, calling for the kids and waving the five of you over.

✰ ✰ ✰

Pictures take too long, and Touya’s antsy by the end of it, picking anxiously at his cuticles as his knee bounces. He’s hauling you out of there the moment you’re officially released, a strong hand wrapped tightly around your wrist. You can hear his mother calling for him, and you look back at her desperately, mirroring her worried frown.

He doesn’t even wait for the rest of them to pile into the limo and leave, immediately rooting through his pockets the moment he’s in the safety of his own car, pulling out a little baggie of white powder. He can feel your wide eyes on him, watching his every movement, but his hands are beginning to shake, and panic is starting to rip viciously at his throat, and he just needs it all to fucking stop.

“There’s no way I could endure this shit sober,” he explains as he searches for something in the powder, cursing when he doesn’t find whatever it is he’s looking for. Frantic cobalt eyes dart around the car, landing on the glovebox, and he leans over you, hastily pulling a reflective object from the compartment.

It’s a mirror.

A tiny, circular mirror that he uses to tap out a line, fingers unsteady and breathing slightly laboured. The gentle sounds of his platinum credit card colliding with glass echo throughout the car.

Hovering over the small mirror, he pauses, a finger pressed to his nostril. He almost wants to tell you to look away, almost does, but he knows you’d disobey either way.

He doesn’t like doing drugs in front of you—you’re too precious, too pure and innocent and he doesn’t want you around anything that could potentially tarnish that. But he also can’t stand that look you get in your eyes, almost like you’re scared of him, on the rare occasions that you have caught him.

He nearly snaps at you when you quietly ask if you can help, if he needs someone to hold the mirror steady, currently balancing on the center console compartment, but you’ve got that goddamn look in your eyes, wide and terrified.

No, he says sternly, telling you that he doesn’t even want you near this stuff, much less touching it.

But cocaine highs don’t last long, he explains to you when you ask about the little round white pills clacking together in his pocket. You’re positive he shouldn’t be mixing drugs like that, positive that your apprehension and disapproval are written clearly across your face, based on the simmering look he shoots at you.

Don’t fucking start.

So you don’t. You swallow down your worries and sit nice and pretty and good for him, just like you’re supposed to.

✰ ✰ ✰

He only leaves you twice, briefly, throughout the entire night. The first is almost immediately after you enter the reception venue.

Depositing you near the head table, he tells you to stay put before he hurries away. You know where he’s going, what he’s about to do, an odd ache taking root and throbbing deep in your chest.

He’d scold you if he could see you, able to read your expressions like a fucking book, would tell you not to cry for him—he doesn’t need your pity. The words cut through your mind in a snarl, and you work hard to rid your face of the frown marring it; he’s already having such a difficult time today, and the last thing you want to do is upset him more with your concern.

Distraction, you need a distraction. Wide eyes scan the extravagant ballroom, all shimmering golds and beiges and crystal chandeliers, searching in a frenzy for something—anything—to rid your mind of images of pretty boys with inky hair and white, white, white.

You swear you hear your name, then Touya’s, hissed out in a sharp whisper, and your gaze lands on a small group of people not too far from you, with snow and fire for hair—the other Todoroki’s, huddled in a loose circle.

The air around you just feels off, you catch his sister saying in a low but frantic voice, eyes darting between her brothers. She sounds worried about you, you think, and it makes you feel weird. She shouldn’t be worried about you; Touya takes fantastic care of you. It isn’t any of their business anyway, you can almost hear Touya sneering in your head, and he’s right. You know he’s right.

Her brothers don’t look too keen on discussing the subject, especially the youngest, who keeps pulling at his collar and fidgeting with his cufflinks.

“Well, why don’t you go and tell her that yourself,” the one with white hair says, grey eyes connecting with yours. She whirls around quickly, mouth snapping shut when she finds your face. Her lips morph into a smile half a second later, and she waves you over.

You avert your eyes, hands tangling nervously in front of you. No. You shouldn’t go. You really, really shouldn’t go. Touya told you to stay put, and you can’t bear to think—don’t even want to consider—how furious he’d be if he found that not only had you moved, but you had moved to talk to his siblings.

You must spend too much time deliberating, though, looking back up to find them advancing towards you, only a few feet away. Your heart’s pounding almost violently in your chest, breath accelerating with each step closer.

“Hi,” she’s saying warmly as she reaches you, causing you to subconsciously take a step back. “We haven’t had a chance to meet. I’m Fuyumi,”

You want to say your name, to introduce yourself politely, but your lips are sealed shut, only able to manage a small sound of affirmation.

“Shouto,” the youngest says, cold heterochromatic eyes glancing at you for a moment before looking away. “M’Shouto,”

“I’m Natsuo,” the man with white hair smirks down at you, eyes burning into yours.

Some of your anxiety melts away as you meet his stone eyes; there’s something comforting about the way that he has Touya’s smirk, Touya’s mischievous glint to his gaze, Touya’s playful lilt to his voice.

You feel like you can breathe again when you’re looking at Natsuo, so you keep your stare directed at him as you stutter out your name, gazing up at him through your lashes.

“You always miss the family dinners,” Natsuo accuses with a knowing smirk, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Y’know, eventually, our parents are going to catch on,”

Your blood turns to ice in your veins, chills crawling on your skin. He knows?

And he says it so nonchalantly, so casually, as if he’s discussing the weather and not the fact that Touya deliberately kidnaps you to fuck your brains out in his car every single time they gather for one of those dinners. Fuyumi and Shouto look over at him with brows furrowed in confusion, but you choke on a gasp, coughing a little and nodding.

Touya returns then, saving you from having to respond.

“What’s wrong?” he’s asking immediately as his hands find purchase on your hips, pulling you back against his chest and wrapping his arms around you. A soft sigh leaves your lips as you lean on him, heart finally beginning to slow.

“N-Nothing, niichan,” you wrap your arms around his, hugging them to your chest, and he squeezes you in reassurance.

“You sure, baby?” Sapphire eyes search your face as you tilt your head back to look up at him, scanning for any sign of distress.

He shouldn’t be using that pet name here, not in front of his blood siblings, not loud enough that any of the passing guests can hear him with ease.

He shouldn’t.

But that doesn’t stop it from sending sparks skittering up your spine, heat beginning to coil in your tummy. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, if you said you didn’t get some sort of twisted satisfaction at the loud gasp that leaves Fuyumi’s chest, or the sharp intake of breath Shouto chokes on, coughing as he tries to cover it up, all at the drop of that one, simple, four letter word.

Touya loves it, too—you can see it in the way his smirk grows into a full smile, a grin big enough to crinkle the edges of his eyes, can see it in his gaze, in the way his cobalt eyes almost sparkle at their reactions.

Your gaze flits back to the three people standing in front of you—your step-siblings, your mind corrects—eyes gliding over their faces slowly.

Natsuo looks thoroughly entertained, a stupid little grin stretched across his face, amusement dancing in his eyes. Fuyumi and Shouto, on the other hand, look thoroughly uncomfortable, shifting a little in place, their faces screwed up with poorly masked disgust.

Touya’s smile drops the moment he looks back at them. Azure eyes scan the faces of his siblings cautiously, giving Natsuo one quick, sharp nod of acknowledgment before his gaze lands on the youngest. And the glare Touya gives him is nothing short of terrifying, practically snarling at the boy, a rough, dangerous sound that gets lodged deep in his chest. It makes the boy cower away, shuffling ever-so-slightly closer to his sister, who shakily glares back.

Lips tugging down into a frown, you look up at Touya, forehead creasing in confusion. He’s still glowering at the kid, eyes narrowing just a little before he huffs and turns away, leaving without speaking a word to any of them.

“Don’t you ever talk to them again,” he’s murmuring as he whisks you away, something malicious in his voice. “You’re my little sister,”

You nod obediently, promising him that you won’t, reassuring him that you didn’t even want to as you relay the entire situation. But he can see it, the curiosity swirling in your eyes, a question dancing on your tongue.

Because although Touya appears to be on seriously awful terms with his younger siblings, Natsuo seems to be some sort of exception. From the interaction you just witnessed, you’re able to deduce that something, some line of communication, must be present between Touya and Natsuo, evident in their shared looks and swift, discreet nods.

He sighs, irritation coating his voice as he demands that you spit it out already.

It makes you jump a little, but the words come tumbling out of your mouth the moment he commands them to, powerless to disobey a direct order.

“Does that include Natsuo?”

Your voice is so tiny that he barely hears you, brows knitting together. There’s an odd look in his eye as he observes you—something that isn’t quite jealousy, but close to it—nose twitching a little as he considers.

“Alone, yes,” he finally says. “With me around it’s fine, I guess. But you are not to speak to him alone, do you hear me?”

Yes, niichan, of course, niichan.

✰ ✰ ✰

Dinner is absolute torture, and the two of you can barely keep your hands off of each other. It starts innocently enough, discreetly enough, with palms on thighs, fingers brushing down arms, hands interlaced under the table. But the need to touch grows, and grows, and grows, these simple actions too teasing to satisfy that dull burning in the pit of your stomach, flaring a little more each time his fingers press into your thigh, or his thumb runs across your knuckles.

And you shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t start acting up now, not while the two of you are seated at the head table, looking out amongst the guests—a few months ago, you would’ve never thought to do something so indecent, so dangerous, in such a public place. But you just can’t help it, you’re getting restless now, brain going hazy with thoughts of him as your fingers trail up his thigh and ghost over his lap.

“Getting bold, are we, princess?” his hand catches your wrist, holding your palm in place and grinding up into it. His voice is low, head tipped towards you, sapphire eyes dark. A breath catches in your throat and he smirks, an evil little quirk up of his lips, raising an eyebrow at you in expectation.

You’re lucky they’re seated in a straight line instead of a circle, he murmurs in your ear, Natsuo snickering beside him. “Imagine what your daddy would think if he could see you, acting like such a desperate little slut in front of all of these people,”

A soft, broken moan escapes your lips without your permission, thighs squeezing together in an attempt to combat the heat pooling in your panties. Someone down the line of the table says something, but you’re too enticed by Touya to hear them, your father writing off whatever the remark was with an easygoing smile.

“Oh, those two are always in their own little world,” you hear him dismiss, voice sounding muddled and distant.

“Be a good girl and sit still,” Touya growls in your ear, grip tightening to near bruising.

“But niichan,” you whine, much too loud, gazing at him with glazed, blown eyes. “Niichan,” you repeat, leaning forward to whimper in his ear, fingers flexing around the bulge in his trousers. “N-Need you,”

“If you can’t behave, niichan won’t let you cum later,” he breathes, though his voice is stern, heavy with the weight of the threat.

A pout forms on your lips as he releases your wrist, firmly placing your hand back in your lap and holding it there for a moment, a silent warning for your wandering fingers to stay put.

But he’s up and out of his chair the instant dinner’s over, moving so quick his seat wobbles a little as he grasps your hand tightly in his, practically yanking you up and dragging you along behind him.

The best thing about these fancy venues, he’s telling you as he strides through the halls, cerulean eyes searching for something, is that they have single person washrooms.

The granite is cold on your cheek as Touya shoves you up against the wall, head bouncing a little as it whacks against it.

You whine and he laughs, a cruel, piercing sound echoing off the walls.

“Aw, baby,” he coos contemptuously. “Did that hurt?”

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut against the throbbing pain radiating through your cheek.

“Poor little thing,” he hisses, lips against your ear as his hands begin to bunch up your dress, gliding over your silk covered thighs, hands fisting in the material as he goes. Pushing it up around your waist, he leans back, hands travelling over the globes of your ass and kneading hard enough to make you cry out.

“You’re a slutty little brat, y’know that?”

Deft fingers hook in the waistband of your thong, all delicate baby pink lace, Touya snickering about how much of a whore you are, wearing such skimpy, slutty panties, as he lets the elastic snap back against your skin.

A little shocked gasp escapes your lips as he begins tugging the dainty fabric down your thighs—you had expected him to merely push them to the side, but he forces you to take them off entirely, stuffing the soaked material in his pocket.

“You think you can just tease niichan like that and get away with it?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head against the wall.

“No,” he murmurs, hips grinding against your bare ass. “Good girls don’t tease their niichans without delivering, do they?”

“No,”

“On your knees,” he orders, spinning you around and stepping back just enough to allow you to sink to the floor. “Get my cock wet,”

Little fingers work quickly, eager to obey, as they undo his pants, practically salivating as you free his cock from its confines.

“Your cock’s so pretty, niichan,” you breathe, eyes glittering with pure, potent desire as you take it in your hands, tongue darting out to trace the prominent veins.

“No teasing,” he growls, a hand knotting in your hair. “I wanna see you choke on it,”

You nod as best you can, mouth instantly falling open, reduced to nothing more than a wet, warm little hole for him to stuff.

And then he’s shoving it down your throat, the hand fisted in your hair holding your head still, and you gag around it almost immediately, working to force you jaw open even more.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” he rasps out, voice echoing off the walls of the washroom.

The praise has your heart soaring, has you sucking hard around him as he thrusts into your mouth, coating his cock in thick saliva and desperate to hear more. It’s intoxicating, every quiet moan you manage to pull from him, every breathless good girl that falls from his lips, makes you feel lightheaded and heady and dizzy for more.

His hips pump a few more times before he’s pulling you off his cock completely, devious smirk forming on his lips at your whine of protest, and commanding you to go bend over the sink.

Calloused hands are bunching your dress up around your waist again, toe of his shoe kicking at your inner ankles and forcing your feet further apart.

He doesn’t bother stretching you out, not because he doesn’t have the time to, but because he simply doesn’t want to. It’s truly one of his favourite things, to see tears fill your eyes while his cock stretches your cute little pussy, and he knows you love it too, don’t you?

Yes, niichan, of course you do.

His cock glistens with your saliva, sufficiently wet that it slides in easily enough, with minimal pain for him. And the soft groan he lets out as he watches your little hole struggle to take him, paired with your sweet little whimpers of his name, is nothing short of gorgeous.

It has your pussy fluttering around him, pulling a breathless chuckle from his lips as he fills you to the hilt, hips pressed against your ass.

And then doesn’t fucking move.

Your brow furrows, eyes meeting his in the mirror. You try to fuck yourself back on him, but he’s too quick, hands stilling your hips immediately and tutting in disapproval.

“Niichan,” you whimper. “N-Niichan, please fuck me,”

“Do you think you deserve it?” he’s asking, tongue tracing the shell of your ear as he holds your gaze through the mirror. “After the way you behaved at dinner?”

“M’sorry,” you whine, wiggling back against him, his fingers digging into your flesh as he stops them, grip tightening. “Couldn’t help it, wanted you so bad,”

“Of course you couldn’t,” he smirks, hips starting to move slowly, teasingly, stilling after only three simple thrusts. A hand reaches down and finds your clit, forcing a gasp from you as his thumb brushes over it, back and forth, back and forth, featherlight grazes that have you arching back into him, trying to press further into his touch.

“Think you can cum just like this for me?” he asks, beginning to thrust shallowly again, just enough to have the head of his cock dragging against that spot buried deep inside your cunt, that spot he knows so well, then nudging your cervix. “Hmm?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, breath starting to come out in short little pants.

“Then do it,” he demands in a whisper, eyes still holding yours. “Show niichan how pretty you look, cumming all over his cock,”

And the combination of his deep, rough voice rumbling against your back as praises tumble from his lips, his thumb and cock, and the fact that anyone within a fifteen foot radius of this washroom could probably hear you, has you cumming within minutes with a sharp cry of Touya-nii!

Touya laughs at how pathetically quickly you came, about how easy it is to have you creaming on his cock, heat seeping into your cheeks as you try to look away.

“My turn,” he breathes, yanking your head back up by your hair, fingers finding root in the intricate updo that has begun to fall apart. “And I wanna see your face as I fuck you, so keep your damn head up,”

And then he’s slamming into you with enough vigour to propel you forward, face pressed against the mirror, toes barely touching the ground. Every moan and whimper and mewl he forces from your throat fogs up the glass, leaving tiny glistening drops of condensation as they fade.

You’re trying so hard to keep your eyes open, to watch him as he fucks you, because he always looks so damn pretty.

He’s stupidly attractive, with his shirtsleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, first few buttons undone and collar popped, revealing his sharp collarbone, smooth ivory skin stretched taut across it. Ebony hair clings to his forehead and neck delicately, coated in sweat, and he’s emitting the most glorious noises, heavy pants and little broken whines, peppered with praise.

Nails bite into your flesh as he holds you in place, hips snapping relentlessly, your fingers curling around the porcelain sink.

“You want niichan’s cum?” he growls in your ear, eyes burning into yours. You whimper in response, nodding against the mirror. “Yeah? Then fucking beg for it.”

Pleads are spilling from your lips immediately, nothing but senseless babbling as he pounds into you.

“Please, niichan, please, need it, your cum, stuff me with your cum,”

“That’s it,” he gasps, voice hoarse. “I want every single person in this godforsaken hall to hear you, I want every single person to know how much of—” he cuts himself off with a shuddery curse. “—How much of a slut my baby sister is,”

“Pretty please,” you whine out the words, eyes rolling back in your head. “Fill me up with your cum, niichan, I-I want it,”

His hips still just as your cunt clenches around him, cockhead pressed tightly against your cervix as he fills you with hot, thick ropes of cum.

He pulls out a few moments later, and you uncurl your fingers from around the rim of the sink, wincing at your appearance; lips bitten raw, hair beginning to fall from it’s elegant style, body covered in a thin layer of sweat.

You look back at him to find him already staring at you, expectantly, impatiently, hands jittery as he quirks his head towards the door.

“We can’t leave together,” he says, as if it’s obvious, even though you stumbled into the washroom together twenty minutes ago.

He needs more.

You nod, slow and dumb, staggering a little on your trembling legs. Grasping the doorknob you pause, turning to look at him again.

“What?” he asks as he searches through his pockets, not bothering to glance at you. He can feel your eyes on him.

“Um...” you shift nervously from foot to foot, lip caught between your teeth.

He looks over at you sharply, brows rising as if to ask why are you still here?

“M-My panties, niichan,”

Oh.

A wicked smirk spreads across his face, eyes twinkling, brows relaxing.

“What about them?”

“Well, I—I can’t return to the reception without them,”

“Oh, and why not?”

You pause, blinking a few times, at a loss for words. Why not? Because you can feel his cum beginning to trickle out of you, mixing with your juices and dribbling down your inner thigh?

“Exactly,” he says, when you take too long to reply. “Now be a good little girl and go. I’ll be out soon,”

✰ ✰ ✰

You don’t go back into the ballroom, terrified that you’ll be ambushed by his—your—siblings again. Collapsing in one of the plush chairs, you cross your quivering legs tightly in a desperate attempt to keep the cum oozing out of you from getting on your dress.

People are looking again, probably think you’re drunk based on the way you teetered over to the seat, or the way your hair’s begun to come undone from it’s intricate updo, wispy strands framing your face.

He returns from the washroom only a few minutes later, eyes finding you immediately. There’s a stupid, smug smirk on his face, thinks it’s so cute that he fucked you so good you can’t walk, can’t even get up, that you need your niichan to help you.

A pout forms on your lips, eyebrows furrowing. “Not funny,”

“Very funny,” he chuckles as his hands snake under your armpits, hauling you to your feet. You stumble a little, bumping into him and he laughs again, wrapping a sturdy arm around your waist and propping you up against him.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,”

“Oh, niichan,” you murmur and he pauses, glancing over at you. You reach up, your thumb swiping across his nose to collect excess white powder.

“Thanks,” he breathes, winking at you. You hum noncommittally, about to rub your thumb across his white dress shirt to clean it when he catches your hand, bringing your thumb to his lips and licking it instead.

It isn’t discreet. It’s slow and deliberate, tongue sticking out of his mouth, flattening it against your thumb and dragging it up, from base to tip. You’re sure someone saw that, but you can’t be bothered to care, not when another bout of intense heat rushes to your core, forcing you to squeeze your legs together, trying in vain to keep Touya’s cum from seeping out, from your juices traveling down your leg. A soft whimper leaves your lips, breathing beginning to accelerate as your eyes bore into his, now half-lidded and dark. He holds your gaze for a moment before something snaps.

“We need to go,” he says, voice firm with no room for negotiation. “Now.”

And, God, his voice is rough and raw and fucking dripping with desire. It’s got you nodding before he’s even finished speaking, a flock of butterflies invading your stomach at the downright sinful grin he gives you in response. Such a good girl for him.

Despite the fact that you’ve barely recovered from your previous orgasm, you nearly moan at his look alone, the urge to kiss him burning through your veins and alighting your entire body in direct juxtaposition to the shivers his eyes just sent rippling across your skin. The insatiable need overwhelms your senses, and it’s dangerous. It’s dangerous, how captivated he has you, entirely wrapped around his slim finger and hanging on his every word, how you’re positive that, in that moment, you’d do anything he asked.

You wobble awkwardly in your heels, legs still shaking and having trouble keeping up with Touya’s swift pace. You’re about to ask him to slow down just a little so you don’t break an ankle, when you bump into your father.

Who just so happens to provide you with the perfect excuse to leave early. You can practically see the gears clicking into place in Touya’s mind, sapphire eyes glittering as a sinister smirk spreads across his face.

Your father’s eyes widen as he observes your appearance, strands of hair sticking to your clammy face and eyes half-lidded, chapped lips beginning to crack, leaning heavily against Touya and seemingly too weak to stand on your own.

“Hi dad,” you greet hoarsely, wincing a little at how grating your voice sounds.

He frowns immediately. “Jesus, sweetheart, are you feeling alright? You look…” he trails off, forehead wrinkling with worry.

“Oh, she’s not feeling too good,” Touya says softly, smoothly, just the right amount of concern and compassion in his tone.

“Oh no,” your father breathes, frown deepening. “That’s terrible,” he clicks his tongue with a shake of his head. “Do you think you’ll be able to tough out the rest of the reception?”

You begin to croak out an answer, but Touya speaks over you.

“She’s burning up, sir,” he informs him, and it isn’t a lie—not exactly, anyway. Technically, if your father were to feel your forehead, your body temperature would be above average, a result of Touya fucking the absolute life out of you a mere ten minutes ago.

Touya looks down at you with painfully sympathetic eyes, but you can still see that little glint of mischief, buried under all of that artificial benevolence.

“Maybe I should take her home?” Touya muses, looking back at your father, mimicking his anxiety effortlessly.

“Mm,” he hums in agreement. “I think that’s the best thing to do,” his eyes dart to yours. “You really don’t look well,”

Oh, you’re sure you don’t. Resting a little more against Touya, you play up the symptoms a bit, whimpering quietly as little fingers twist in his shirt, nuzzling your face against his side. A soft noise of endearment sounds at the back of his throat, large hands readjusting your body to support you better.

Another whimper falls from your lips, but this time it isn’t from pretending you’re ill. You can feel his cum leaking out of you, slimy and cool as it drips down your inner thigh, and a sick thrill shoots through your body, abused cunt throbbing greedily.

Rei comes up behind your father then, wrapping her arms around his midsection and resting her chin on his shoulder, eyes flitting between the two of you carefully.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“I’m gonna bring this little princess home,” Touya explains, nodding his head at you in indication as he speaks. “She isn’t feeling very well, poor thing,”

And it’s scary, scary how terrific he is at lying, how easily he slips into that niichan role, the one painstakingly crafted and flawlessly maintained around your parents, the one he’s perfected at this point.

Rei doesn’t say much, only cooing in sympathy, remarking that it’s such a shame, but your father’s eyes soften. “Such a good big brother,” he praises, clapping a hand on Touya’s shoulder.

Touya has to consciously work to smother the smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he responds.

“You have no idea,”

✰ ✰ ✰

Your parents don’t come home that night, opting to go straight to the airport from the venue, embarking on their honeymoon immediately.

It’s nice, playing house with Touya, having the entire place completely to yourselves. He’s been home an awful lot these past few weeks, more than he ever has in the past, and you get to experience things you never could before.

Every morning and every night, you cook breakfast and dinner together. You go grocery shopping together, wash the dishes together, fold the laundry together, all while stealing kisses in between; little domestic things you didn’t really do with your parents around.

You spend every night that they’re away in his bed, being fucked into his mattress, surrounded by the smell of him—campfire and Marlboros and expensive cologne—absolutely full of him in every sense.

You wake up in the mornings with his hand between your legs, playing with your cute little clit, or his cock pressed against your ass, grinding until you wake up. You have sleepy, slow morning sex while you’re both still half asleep, and it’s the most gentle he’s ever been. It consists of lazy, sloppy, messy thrusts against each other, hips meeting halfway—just grinding until he gets too impatient, though he usually lets you cum two or three times before he finally flips you over, trapping you under his body and slamming his hips into you, growling and grunting, your legs pushed up and folded on either side of you.

You get to fuck in the kitchen—not that you hadn’t before, but this time you get to take it slow. He eats you out while you sit on the counter and then fucks you into oblivion and it’s nasty, it’s disgusting, it’s so good. He cums so much that it’s leaking out of you, onto the counter, his chest heaving as he observes it with an odd little smile and a soft “fuck,”

And you get to fuck in the bathtub, that big jacuzzi in your parents room, water and bubbles sloshing around as you bounce on his cock, loud cries echoing off the walls.

It’s going great, until the last weekend of the honeymoon, a mere few days before your parents are supposed to return.

✰ ✰ ✰

A party.

Keigo tries to talk him out of it, tries to at least talk him out of letting you stay.

“She shouldn’t be here,” you hear Keigo hiss under his breath as guests begin to fill the house, Touya snorting in retort.

Keigo doesn’t think you should be around any of this at all—there’s no reason you should have to witness this shit, you catch him growling, gold eyes blazing. No, not a poor innocent babygirl like you, this isn’t the place for you.

But Touya’s too stubborn, too selfish to let Keigo take you out for the night. He knows he’s right, would rather not have you around these people, but he doesn’t have a fucking choice. The thought of you being out of his sight, out with another man, has anxiety rising in his throat, panic clawing at his chest.

As a result, you spend the entirety of the party being passed between Touya and Keigo. There are so many girls here, so many people you don’t know, wide eyes scanning the living room as your fingers twist in Keigo’s hoodie.

Niichan’s busy, Touya tells you, when you ask why you can’t just stay with him, when you ask where he keeps disappearing off to. Niichan’s working, don’t you know? Be a good girl and stay with Kei.

You can tell that Keigo isn’t happy about it. He coos softly when you timidly ask if he’s upset that he’s stuck babysitting you all night, in the middle of an apology when he cuts you off.

“It isn’t your fault, songbird,” he murmurs, gentle fingers tracing the curve of your face.

He’s even angrier at Touya when he takes that first girl back to his room, because the look on your face—the way it crumples accompanied by a soft, hurt sound caught at the back of your throat—kills him.

And it isn’t like you don’t know about his side whores. You do. They’re customers, he had snapped at you, the only time you had ever asked about it. But it’s an entirely different thing to actually have to witness it with your own eyes.

You can’t help the flare of jealousy that rises in your chest every time he takes a girl by the hand and leads them to his bedroom. It stings, burns, feels like a fire’s been lit in your chest, filling your lungs with dense smoke and making it hard for you to breathe.

Keigo tries his best to distract you, gentle fingers on your cheeks turning your face towards him, golden eyes softening in sympathy. He keeps you as preoccupied as he can, but it still isn’t enough. Your eyes are drawn to Touya every time he’s in the room—an automatic, instinctual reaction you couldn’t control even if you wanted to.

And every time you watch a girl giggle into his ear, or hop up with him, that fire smoldering in your chest blazes, rages, has you wheezing and hissing and pressing a palm flat against yourself, a desperate attempt to get the pain to stop.

Tomura’s here, too, though he’s sitting in a shrouded corner on his phone, the light from the screen reflected on his pale face, colours flashing intermittently. He looks absorbed with whatever he’s doing on there—probably playing a game, Keigo tells you, but why are you interested, anyway?

You don’t know, you aren’t sure, you can’t exactly put it into words. He terrifies you, but he sparks a morbid curiosity in you, too. He’s so silent, private, almost inobtrusive; and yet Touya never lets you anywhere near him. Your eyes keep flitting his way, as if trying to will something to happen, staring at him longingly and hoping he’ll look up from his phone for a split second and catch your gaze, that he’ll somehow magically get the hint that you’re desperate and dying to talk to him, and take the first step.

But it doesn’t happen.

Touya is thoroughly unimpressed each and every time he finds you sitting on Keigo’s knee or lap, leaning back against his chest as he speaks with that easygoing lilt that is so distinctly him, but there isn’t much he can do. The third time he returns to take you from his friend he can tell you’re beginning to get tired, can see it in your eyes, in the way you’re cuddling into a warm chest. He debates sending you to bed right then and there, but you protest, little hands tangling in Keigo’s hoodie.

“Aw, she’s alright for a little more, isn’t she?”

Touya’s sharp jaw clenches twice and he exhales slowly through his nose, eyes darting between your faces.

“Fine,” he says, although it doesn’t seem fine.

And you are exhausted, straddling Keigo’s hips, face pressed into his shoulder and hot breath evening out softly against his neck. Fingers ghost up and down your spine nonchalantly as Keigo talks softly to the people around him, his laugh vibrating against your chest and filling you with an odd, tingly sensation, a warmth that seeps through your body. You snuggle a little closer to him and he coos, readjusting you in his lap and wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you tightly to him.

“Don’t wanna go to bed with him,” you whisper, words muffled by his skin.

Keigo hums in question, squeezing you once. “Who, songbird?” he presses his lips to your ear as inconspicuously as he can, lidded gold eyes lazily scanning the room for your brother. “Touya?”

You nod sluggishly, little fingers curling in his hoodie, a silent plea not to let you go.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Keigo says softly with a small chuckle, but it sounds off to your ears—sad, even.

“Don’t wanna,” you repeat, pout evident in your voice. “Wanna stay with you,”

You wouldn’t have noticed the way his chest hitches at those four words if you weren’t pressed flush against it. But you feel it, feel his breath getting caught in his throat, reverberating against you as he clears it quietly. Unexpected guilt sours your mouth, makes your stomach turn to a block of heavy lead, weighting your body down.

“You know you can’t, sweetheart,” he finally responds, voice cracking just a bit, right on that last word. “Don’t hurt your niichan like that, he loves you,”

No he doesn’t, you want to say, but you can’t seem to force the words from your mouth, opting to shake your head instead, eyes shutting tightly against the burn of tears.

“He does,” Keigo says, more sternly this time. “Don’t doubt that,”

But you’re not so sure. If Touya loved you—really loved you—would he have disappeared no less than three times tonight, each with a different girl, leading them into his bedroom with those dark glittering sapphire eyes while they gaze up at him like he hung the fucking moon himself?

Honestly, is that even a question you want answered?

You keep your face buried in Keigo’s chest to block it out, to keep yourself from watching your big brother as he flits around the room, handing out discreet baggies in exchange for ridiculous wads of cash and talking in hushed voices, in code, to men who look much too old to be at a house party.

Eventually, Touya returns to retrieve you, bending down and speaking softly.

“It’s time for bed, princess,” A hand pets your head, and you flinch away.

“Hey,” you feel the couch dip beside you as he sits down. “Look at me,”

You’re shaking your head, trying in vain to press even closer to Keigo, but that doesn’t stop Touya from reaching out and gripping your chin, forcing you to face him.

Crystal eyes search your face carefully, wide and alert—he always works sober, you found out. He can tell you’re upset, can see it written plain as day across your face, eyes glassy with your lips set in a deep pout, eyebrows pushed together. Exhaling harshly, he closes his eyes, fingers rubbing at his eyes in exasperation.

“C’mon,” he says lowly, wrapping a hand around your bicep and tugging as he stands.

“No,” you nearly growl, shaking your head and viciously pulling your arm from his grip.

Touya stares at you for a moment, like he cannot believe you just had the audacity to tell him no, before he speaks, an incredulous laugh bubbling up from his chest. “What did you just say?”

Keigo’s sitting up straighter now, more alert as your body subconsciously curls into his chest, cowering away from your big brother. “Y-You heard me,”

Snorting in disbelief, Touya raises his eyebrows as his tongue runs along the front of his teeth, huffing out the remnants of a chuckle before his smile drops completely, blue fire blazing in his dark eyes.

“Get up,” he snarls, hand in a vice grip around your arm as he yanks harshly. The force of it has you practically falling off Keigo’s lap, though Touya catches you roughly before your knees hit the hardwood, hoisting you up by your arm to stand on unsteady feet.

“Move.” He instructs, giving you a shove in the vague direction of his bedroom. “Now.”

His chest bumps into your back and you stumble forward, yelping softly. He keeps pushing like this, strong hand clasping your shoulder so tightly you’re sure you’ll have five little bruises in the shape of his fingerprints in the morning, driving you to walk with the sheer force of his body.

“No,” your whispering, trying desperately to turn back and look at him as you approach his door, tears flooding your eyes, frantically shaking your head and trying your damnedest to plant your feet, heels digging into the floor in an attempt to stop him from pushing you forward.

“You really gonna say no to me a second time tonight? In less than fifteen minutes? You think that’s wise, baby?”

You don’t—of course you don’t. It’s probably one of the stupidest things you could do, in this situation.

But even though you know, know this isn’t a smart move, know you shouldn’t be testing him like this—challenging him like this, especially in front of so many people—you’re powerless to control the words that tumble from your lips next.

“I don’t want to sleep in a bed that’s been infested by your whores,”

They come out as a hiss—you don’t mean for them to, but they do, voice quivering under the combined weight of your fury and fear.

That gets him to stop, entire body going rigid. Icy dread rushes through your veins, panic clawing its way up your throat, forcing uneven breaths through your parted lips. Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you brace yourself for the impact of his bellowing voice, shoulders tensing in anticipation for the blow, for him to really snap.

Except then he starts laughing, his hand relaxing around your shoulder, spinning you around to face him as he backs you up against his bedroom door, caging you in with his body.

“That’s what this is about?”

Eyebrows furrowing, you blink twice in disbelief, prompting hot tears to finally spill over. “I—Wh-Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re being silly, princess,”

It hurts, stings like three massive spikes just shot through your heart, causes a tiny whimper to sound from deep in your throat, chest hiccupping with pathetic little half-sobs.

“Sil…Silly?” Time feels as if it’s slowed, your sluggish brain having trouble comprehending the situation unfolding.

His lips pull down into a frown, eyes narrowing slightly as he regards you with extreme precision. “Yeah,” he says, but his voice sounds far away, muffled, like you’re underwater and he’s speaking to you from above the surface. “Hey—”

Your head’s shaking again, in slow, delayed motions from side to side. “No,” you whisper. “No.”

You feel nauseous, and the proximity of his presence is only making it worse, making you feel like you could hurl at any moment. Little hands find purchase on his chest and push, stomach lurching painfully as your head spins.

He catches your wrists easily, holding them together in one large hand, his other coming to grip your chin and force you to look at him.

Thick silence settles between the two of you as Touya’s eyes study your face slowly, noting the tears flowing steadily down your face, the way your breath stutters with sobs you’re so desperately trying to hold back, the way your entire body trembles.

“Are you seriously upset over this?” he asks, laughing a little.

Your gaze holds his, tears casting a thick, gleaming screen across your eyes.

“Yes, Touya,” you whisper, wishing your voice didn’t sound as small and weak as it does. “I’m seriously upset,”

That’s the first time you’ve used his first name—just his first name, void of any honorific—in a long, long time.

It gets him to pause again, his usual and well-worn mask of passivity melting away for just a second as shock crosses his face. Then his features are hardening again, brows knitting together and creasing his forehead, eyes narrowing into near slits.

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” he spits harshly, the words cutting into your flesh. “You know none of them mean a thing,”

“Then why do you fuck around with them?” you shoot back almost immediately, voice fading into a whisper.

He glares at you, as if you’re wasting his precious time with such childish questions when he’s told you this already, and you can see the blue fire simmering in his eyes.

“It’s late,” he says curtly, voice sounding off to you. “You need sleep.”

You try to fight him on it, but he’s too quick, reflexes too swift, and he shoves you into his room, door slamming shut less than a second later.

Tears obstruct your vision as you stumble around, finally finding his desk chair and collapsing heavily. You don’t even bother trying to open the door, know it’s locked without having to hear that soft click! as the lock turns into place.

He’s right—it is late, well past three in the morning, and you are utterly exhausted, drawing your knees up to your chest and curling up in the plush chair.

But no matter how tired you are, you absolutely refuse to sleep in his bed. The party’s dying down, you can hear Touya’s muffled farewells as guests begin to leave while you fade in and out of consciousness.

You think you might’ve heard Keigo say something, might’ve caught the word stay, might’ve detected the annoyance laced in Touya’s voice as he responds, but you’re too worn out to reflect on it.

At some point in the night, Touya reenters his room, chuckling a little at your antics and carrying you to his bed.

The move wakes you, and you weakly protest—no, you don’t want to be in this bed, please, just let you go sleep in your own bed—but Touya ignores you entirely, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you tightly to his chest.

It’s then that the tears start up again, salt staining your puffy cheeks, head beginning to throb from dehydration.

“Shh, baby, shh,” he hushes you, nimble fingers combing through your hair. “I’m here, right here,”

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Touya over these past few weeks, it’s that he becomes marginally softer in the middle of the night. Your fingers twist in his t-shirt, trying in vain to pull yourself impossibly closer, Touya making a soft noise akin to a coo in the back of his throat.

“I’ve got you, niichan’s got you,”

You hate it. You hate that he’s the only person you want comforting you right now, as you lay in his bed, surrounded by the smell of cheap perfume and clinging in desperation to him, needing him close, needing his body heat warming you and his hands on you. You hate the way your sobs come harder the more he soothes you, the heavy ache in your chest almost bruising, crushing your lungs and making it near impossible to breathe.

But you crave his comfort nonetheless. It’s a special kind of comfort, one that’s difficult to describe, one that only comes from the love and adoration and protection of a big brother.

Why can’t you just be mine? You want to ask, the words searing into your tongue, refusing to leave your lips.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick, angel,” he chastises softly, brushing your hair away from your clammy forehead as another shuddery sob rips through your chest.

“I want you,” you say instead, words garbled.

“You have me, baby,”

“All of you,”

His chest heaves with an exasperated sigh, head turning away and gazing up at the ceiling. “You have all of me, princess,”

There’s something in his voice that makes you stop, pause, his words reverberating in your mind. He sounds almost like…like he’s upset over this fact, like he wishes that you didn’t have all of him.

You want to press for more, to probe and prod and pick away at it, but exhaustion finally claims you, rendering you incapable of speech, your tongue moving sluggishly in your mouth as you desperately try to form words.

✰ ✰ ✰

It’s grey when you wake, only a few hours later, eyes sticky and dry from lack of sleep. Your head is pounding, feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton, lips cracked and dry from dehydration, and a painful lump forms almost immediately in your throat when you get a whiff of sickly sweet artificial vanilla, then another of intense, synthetic citrus.

The tears are starting up again, collecting in your eyes and clouding your vision. It makes you nauseous, makes your skin crawl and your chest burn as your throat fills with acid. The tears sting, but you blink hard to keep them at bay. You will not cry, not in front of him, not in his bed surrounded by the remnants of those other girls, not again. You refuse to give them the satisfaction.

You spring up quickly, halfway through climbing over Touya’s body when a strong hand latches onto your wrist.

“No,” Touya mumbles, face half buried in his pillow. “Stay,”

“No,” you whisper, pulling yourself free from his grasp and hurrying out of his room. You can smell them on your clothes, on your skin, and it makes you want to scrub your body under scalding water until it’s raw.

Everything hurts—it hurts so much it feels like your chest is collapsing in on itself, like you can’t breathe, gasping for air as you stumble onto the porch, nearly tripping over your own feet as you stop and realize you have nowhere to go.

Touya has cut you off from all of your friends at this point; any spare time you had was now claimed by him.

And that’s exactly why he doesn’t bother rolling out of bed to follow after you, isn’t worried about you going anywhere, knows you can’t leave him, no matter how badly you want to. No, not a precious little girl like you, with nowhere to find refuge.

You sit down heavily on one of the front steps, vision so blurry with tears you’re barely able to make out the figure advancing towards you. They’re finally escaping your eyes, rolling down your cheeks as you blink twice, trying to clear them. Your chest stutters under the force of a sob you’re desperately trying to hold back, clapping both hands over your mouth in an attempt to silence it.

“Hey—oh no,” Keigo breathes the moment your watery eyes look up at him. You squeeze your eyes shut, causing more tears to leak out as your shoulders shake, whole body trembling from the force of your sobs, poorly muffled by your palms.

“No, no, no, sweetheart,” he’s saying as he rushes to sit down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders tightly.

Keigo’s the closest thing you have to a friend now. And really, you should be embarrassed by the way you practically fling yourself into his arms, burying your face in his chest as your hands form fists in his t-shirt. He’s a little startled by your borderline violent reaction, but he recovers quickly, arms encircling your body and pulling you against him.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, one hand rubbing your back while the other pets your hair. “Hey, it’s alright, I’m here,”

And you hate the way his words almost directly mirror Touya’s, the way his low sultry voice turned gentle and soft as he carded deft fingers through your hair echoing almost painfully in your head. But Keigo lets you cry, lets you stain his t-shirt with salty tears and saliva until you’ve got nothing left, never stopping his compassionate motions.

“You…Stayed the night?” you pull back a little, the fact that he’s still here, blonde hair all mussed up from sleep, finally dawning on you.

“Well, yeah,” he says, a little bashful as he looks away and ducks his head. “Wanted to make sure you were alright, s’all. Last night was…” he trails off, frowning. “What happened?”

Golden eyes search your face, his forehead crinkling in concern. A beat of silence passes.

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but…” kind fingers move to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ll feel better if you let it out, promise. And, not to brag or anything, but I’m preee-tty good at this kind’a stuff,” he chuckles a little.

“Got in a fight,” you whisper, eyes staring intently at the brick wall behind his shoulder as your chin trembles slightly, memories of last night flashing through your mind.

“A fight? With Touya?” Keigo moves his head a little, forcing his face into your field of vision and catching your face with tender fingers when you try to look away.

“Yeah,” tears are beginning to well up in your eyes as you think about it, the sheer fact that you’re in a fight making your heart feel like it’s ripping itself to shreds. A chaotic storm of emotions brews in your chest, switching mercilessly and swirling together so quickly that you can’t even tell what they are. Your insides feel all jumbled up, and trying to decipher what the heck’s going on only makes your head ache more.

They torment you, a deep sense of anguish finally settling at the core. You’re confused, livid at Touya for being such a jackass; jealous, because you want him all to yourself; heartbroken, because you want—need—his approval, desperate to hear him tell you that you’re his good little baby girl.

You want to be his good little baby girl.

But it isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair, sweetheart. Get used to it, he had told you once, when you had complained about something so silly, so simple as him eating the last ice cream cookie sandwich (he made it up to you, of course, telling you he wanted to taste your cream—such a cheeseball—and making you cum three times before taking you out to buy more).

No, it isn’t fair, but you don’t care. You want him to be yours, too.

Keigo tsks, bringing your attention back to him, mouth set in a hard line as sad eyes watch you. “What was it about?”

“I-It…H-He—” a shuddery breath cuts you off, and Keigo draws you into his arms, holding you against his chest as the sobs start up again, sobs that make it feel like your body’s about to tear apart, desperately clutching Keigo to try and keep yourself together.

“Oh, songbird,” he coos, rocking you gently. “Is it…Um, the other girls?”

“Yes,”

“But you know you’re his favourite, right?”

“D-Does it even matter, if he’s still fucking them anyway?” you ask, pulling back suddenly as hot anger flashes through you. “Why does he need them? Am I—” a sob cuts you off, but you swallow it, persevering. “Am I not good enough?” your voice breaks on the last word, fading into a whisper, big teary eyes scanning his face almost frantically, seeking an answer in his expression.

Keigo blinks, surprised by your sudden brashness, then gives you a small, sad smile. “Only he can answer that, sugarplum,” he whispers, using the pad of his thumb to catch a stray tear and wipe it across your cheekbone. “But just because he’s fucking around, doesn’t mean that you can’t, too,”

Your head tilts to the side, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“Give him a taste of his own medicine,” Keigo shrugs, leaning back a little. “He definitely deserves it, for making an angel such as yourself so upset,”

You sniffle a little, wiping at your nose with the paw of your sweater as you consider the prospect.

“Y’know, it technically isn’t cheating, since you guys aren’t in any sort of official relationship to begin with,” Keigo reminds you gently, nudging just a tiny bit more.

It isn’t right—you know it isn’t. You’ve never been one to fight fire with fire, often preferring to avoid conflict and drama, but you’re so hurt; you’re so angry at him—angry at the way he reacted, as if it was you in the wrong, angry at the fact that he doesn’t even seen to care about your feelings on the issue, because he knows you’ll come running back either way, angry because he’s right, as evident in the way pathetically clung to him last night—that all you want to do in that moment is cause him a shred of the pain he’s causing you.

It’s an impulsive decision that has you pulling out your phone, quickly scrolling through your contacts, thumb jabbing at Tomura’s name—Touya had given you his number for emergencies only—before you have time to think it through, before you have time to regret it.

Tiny thumbs fly across the keyboard, your heart pounding in your chest as adrenaline accelerates your breathing.

Hey. Let’s hang out.

Keigo inhales through his teeth next to you, and your eyes dart to him in surprise, as if you had forgotten he was there.

“Well,” he begins, though his voice sounds odd to you—unlike his usually nonchalant, happy-go-lucky manner. “That’s, uh, definitely one that’s gonna hurt him, songbird,”

You look back down at your phone to see Tomura typing a response.

Yeah, definitely. Pick a day.

“Good.”

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi smut #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya #no idea how this MONSTER grew so much???#big apologies #part two is DARK and it is coming tomorrow!!!#tw pseudo-incest #tw toxic relationship #tw dubcon #tw drugs #tw cheating

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albertasunrise · 3 years

Text

Consequences

Masterlist

Summary: When Javier left for Colombia the second time, he told no one but his father. When he returns, he realises how selfish that decision was.

Pairings: Javier Peña x Reader

Warnings: Angst.

Words: 4kish

Arriving back in Laredo had been as uneventful as Javier had expected it to be. He hadn’t been gone as long as last time. A little over a year had passed since he’d made the decision to go back. After spending a few months mulling over whether he wanted to return there he had packed a bag and gotten on the first flight he could catch. His father had tried to speak sense into him, tried to convince him that it was a good idea. He could see how Colombia had sucked the soul out of his only son but Javier didn't listen and he didn’t do the one thing his father asked him to do.

Tell you.

He’d made you aware from the start that it was just casual. That he wasn’t ready for commitment. The family and the white picket fence and you'd agreed to that. Your relationship was his only constant for two months. His source of release when ghosts came back to haunt him. He’d met you at his favourite watering hole, you were new to him but not new to the bar and the two of you had talked for hours that first night you’d met. He’d kept coming back then, one thing led to another and he became a regular feature in your bed. The sex was great. Incredible and despite him telling himself that it wasn't serious there was a part of him that had fallen for you but he knew you didn't feel the same. So he'd left it.

Laredo is a small town. Everyone knows everyone and Chucho knew you. When he’d learned of his son's relationship with you he’d made Javier promise he wouldn’t hurt you. It was common knowledge that your relationship history was poor. You’d been treated poorly, cheated on and left to pick up the pieces all on your own until you’d met Chucho. He had taken you under his wing, gotten you the job at the bar and helped pick up the pieces of your broken heart when your fiancé had left you. He had also been there to support you when Javier had left and he’d warned you when he had learned his son was returning.

News you’d not taken well.

…

‘Where are you going?’ Chucho asked as he watched his son make his way to the front door.

‘Going for a drink.’

‘She’s not going to be there.’ He stated and Javier glanced back at his father.

‘What?’

‘She doesn’t work at the bar anymore.’ His father elaborated as he continued to stare at the mug clasped between his two large hands.

‘What makes you think I was going to see her?’ Javier queried, cocking his hip to one side as he studied his father closely.

‘Because I know you.’ He asserted ‘You seriously think that she’ll want to see you? I asked you to tell her and you didn’t.’

‘I-.’

‘Don’t even try and lie to me pendejo.’ He snapped, finally looking up at Javier ‘She turned up at my door looking for you and I had to tell her that you were gone.’ He growled, eyes glowing in the dim evening light ‘You have no idea of the mess you left behind.’

‘What mess?’

‘It’s not my place to say. It's her business what you know.’ He answered, pushing himself up from his chair ‘You lost the right to that knowledge when you walked out on her.’

‘It was casual pops.’ He argued ‘She knew that. If she got hurt by me leaving then that's not my fault.’

‘Your actions have consequences, Javier.’ He finished ‘Remember that.’

The sun was blaring down as you managed to rip the last of the weeds that had invaded your flower bed. Wiping your brow with the back of your hand you dusted off your soiled hands on your worn jeans and made your way to your front door. As soon as your hand twisted the vintage doorknob you heard a voice you hoped you’d never hear again call your name and you sighed. Turning your head to see him standing there on the path, as beautiful as he was the last time he saw you.

‘How are you?’ He asked awkwardly and you rolled your eyes.

‘Peachy.’ you growled as you pushed open your front door.

‘Hermosa wait.’ He pleaded as he sprinted after you, catching the door before it slammed shut.

‘Javier I don’t want to talk to you.’ You growled, crossing your arms as you blocked his way into your home.

‘I just wanted to explain myself.’ He asserted ‘I was a jerk. I shouldn't have just left without saying goodbye.’

‘No, you shouldn't have.’ You growled as you shifted your weight from one leg to the other ‘Is that all? Only I have things to do?’

‘Can I come in?’ He asked, his brown eyes pleading and for a moment you felt yourself weaken under his sad gaze.

‘No.’ You snapped ‘Absolutely not.’

‘Well, could we perhaps meet for coffee?’ He countered ‘I just want a chance to talk.’ He continued, scrubbing a hand over his face as he adopted his signature stance ‘Dad said that I left a mess behind with you and I want to make amends.’ He confessed ‘If I can.’

‘I’ll think about it.’ You replied as you started to push the door ‘I’ll call you.’

Then you were gone. A dark green door separating the two of you. He stood there a moment, his stomach twisting in knots as he relived the interaction he’d just shared with you before he made his way back to his truck and left.

Hoping that you’d call.

You did…

His heart was in his throat as he sat at a table outside the cafe he knew you loved, your favourite coffee ready and waiting for you. His nerves increased when he saw you turn the corner but his emotions soon became confusing as you got closer, pram in front of you.

Why did you have a baby with you?

He didn’t have long to ponder that as you came to a stop beside the table, leaning down to check inside the pram before you took your seat opposite him.

‘Thanks for the coffee.’ You said, taking a sip and humming as the flavours assaulted your senses.

‘Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.’ He replied, giving you a genuine smile ‘Who’s baby is that?’

‘What did you want to speak to me about Javier?’ You asked, skimming over his question.

‘Oh… Well. I um… I wanted to apologise for leaving without telling you. I know I said that we were casual but you deserved better than that.’ He started, taking a sip of his coffee before he continued ‘I um… I guess I just thought it would be easier if I just left but I guess that wasn’t the case if I hurt you.’

‘Javier.’ You began, letting out a sigh as you sat back in your chair ‘I knew what we were. I’m not angry because you left. I’m angry because you ignored my calls.’

He cocked his head to the side as he waited for you to elaborate.

‘You don’t remember do you?’ You asked and snorted when he shook his head.

‘Was a few days after you arrived.’ You declared ‘I rang you telling you there was something I needed to speak to you about.’ You paused as you sipped your coffee again ‘You told me that you were busy but that you would call me back as soon as you could.’

Javier winced as the memory of that call came flooding back to him.

‘You never called me Javier.’ You snapped ‘I rang, left messages on your machine and with your secretary but you never called me back.’

‘Hermosa I-‘

He was cut off by crying and you turned your attention to the pram beside you, pulling out an infant that could not have been much older than four months old. You hushed her, rocking her in your arms as she screamed and protested at your attempts to soothe her.

‘Does she need a bottle or?’ He asked, a little unsure what to do.

‘She’s hungry.’ You stated as you fished out a small blanket from the bag that hung just below the handlebar of the pram and threw it over your shoulder.

After a little arranging, you draped the blanket over her head and shifted your shirt, rocking her lightly as she latched to your breast and started to suckle. Javier watched in shock as the puzzle pieces started to slot into place.

‘She’s uh… You have a baby?’ He asked, voice shaking a little as his eyes drifted from the infant in your arms to your face.

‘Yes.’ You replied plainly, looking him squarely in the eye.

‘Wow… Uh. Congrats I guess.’ He said as he supped at his coffee ‘Who’s the lucky guy?’

‘Seriously?’ You snort, rolling your eyes at him.

‘What?’

‘I thought you were supposed to be some sort of detective.’ You sniggered as you took another sip of your coffee.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ He growled, feeling his anger start to simmer beneath the surface.

‘Well, let's see.’ You start, glancing down at your daughter before returning to Javier ‘You left. I needed to talk to you. A year or so later you come back and the girl you were fucking has a four-month-old baby. That a big enough clue for you Agent Peña?’

Javier sits there for a moment, mouth opening and closing as he processes everything that you had told him. The longer he took to say anything, the more amused you got by his obvious struggle to comprehend that the infant in your arms was half him. In the time it took for him to process, you tucked yourself back in, readjusted your shirt and started to pat your daughter's back as you placed gentle kisses in her hair.

‘She’s uh… She’s m-mine?’ He stuttered, eyes settling on his daughter.

‘Yes, Javier. She is yours.’ You replied, pulling off the blanket from your shoulder and tossing it on the table.

‘Does pops know?’

‘He does.’ You replied ‘He was there through it all. Came to my scans, held me after she was born. I even stayed with him for the first two months so that he could help me. He uh… her birth was hard.’

‘Hard?’ He asked, his expression changing to one of concern.

‘Yeah, she partly breached.’ You stated, as you looked down lovingly at your world ‘Forceps and six stitches later she was in my arms.’ You said with a smile ‘Was hell but she was worth it all.’

‘Why didn’t pops tell me?’

‘Because I told him not to.’ You snapped, looking up at Javier with fire in your eyes ‘You lost your right to know about her when you chose not to call me.’

‘That’s not fair.’

‘Fair?’ You growled ‘What’s not fair is that I turned up at your house to tell you that I was pregnant, only to learn that you’d left the previous night for Colombia without telling me.’

Javier winced at your timbre.

‘What’s not fair was having to go through the emotional turmoil of learning that I was pregnant with the baby of a guy that I had been fucking casually and knowing I was going to have to do it alone. What's not fair is that I called, gave him a chance after chance to be a part of that baby’s life and he chose to ignore me.’ You paused, downing the last of your coffee ‘You had an opportunity to know about her. To chose whether or not you wanted to be a part of her life and you blew it. I clearly meant nothing to you as otherwise, you would have called.’ You growled.

'I did care Hermosa.' He said softly and you laughed.

'Funny way of showing it.' You replied, staring at the pram for a short while as an awkward silence settled over you both.

‘Can I um… Can I hold her?’ He asked, his request taking you by surprise and you glanced down at your baby for a moment before looking back at him.

‘No.’ You replied bluntly before you stood and placed her back in her pram ‘Thanks for the coffee, Javier.’ You spat as you shoved the blanket into the bag and turned off the breaks on the pram ‘See you around.’

…

‘HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME?’ He yelled as he came charging through his father's front door.

‘Tell you what?’

‘That I’m a father!’ He gasped ‘That I have a four-month-old daughter. Who you have spent time with, have photos of on the walls of the house. I just assumed that they were some friend's kid but no, she's mine.’

‘She told me not to and I agreed with her decision.’ He stated and Javier saw red 'I thought that it should be down to you to mend this.'

‘If I had known I could have… things could have been different!.’

‘You would have known about her if you'd called her like you said you would.’ His father snapped back ‘You had plenty of opportunities.’

‘I was sorta busy taking down a cartel pops.’

‘And you didn’t have a single moment to yourself?’ Chucho questioned, watching the guilt seep into his son's features ‘You didn’t have a single moment in the past year to call her back? To find out what was wrong with the girl that you had been sleeping with for months.’

‘You should have told me pops.’ Javier scoffed.

‘You should have called.’ His father replied before standing up and leaving a conflicted son in his wake.

2 weeks later - 2 am…

Javier was woken by the sound of frantic banging, followed by raised voices and after rubbing his tired eyes he traipsed his way down the stairs to find you sobbing, your daughter in his father’s arms.

‘Her fever’s really high… I don’t know what to do.’ You sobbed, hands shaking as fat tears rolled down your cheeks.

‘What's going on?’ Asked Javier, making you and his father startle a moment before returning their attention to the baby ‘Is she okay?’

‘She has a fever.’ His father stated.

‘Do you want me to drive you to the hospital?’ He asked, gingerly approaching you before looking at the wailing infant in his father's arms.

‘It's probably just a cold.’ Said Chucho, shaking his head as he glanced up at you ‘You can take her if you want Mija.’

‘I uh… Can you drive?’ She asked the older man, her question stinging Javier.

‘I’m not allowed to drive at night now Mija.’ He stated and she nodded lightly ‘Javi will take you.’

‘It’s fine I’ll-’

‘Just let me help.’ Interrupted Javier, his eyes almost pleading ‘I am her father after all.’

…

The wait in the ER was the longest of your life. You sat rocking your screaming child as others tutted from their thrones of judgement. You could feel their eyes on you as you desperately tried to soothe her but you knew that nothing would work until her fever was tended to.

Javier sat silently beside you, picking at his cuticles and glancing every so often at his daughter. A part of him yearned to hold her, rock her in his arms and take her suffering away but he didn’t push you. He’d had two weeks to ponder everything that had transpired and he’d tried to reach out but you’d been hesitant. His heart was hurting bLet'se had no right to demand anything from you and so he decided that he would have to earn your trust in the hopes that one day, he’d finally hold his daughter.

‘Sophia?’ Came a voice, grabbing your attention and you abruptly stood.

‘You can uh, wait here if you want.’ You said, glancing at Javier as he stood.

‘I’d like to come.’ He said nervously ‘If that's okay.’

You simply nodded before making your way over to the doctor that had called out for your daughter. He motioned for you to lay her on the bed that was placed in the centre of the room, holding your baby's tiny hand as the doctor made his way over with a tray of different instruments.

‘Someone isn’t a happy girl are they?’ He said softly, stroking her plump cheek and pushing his bottom lip out at her ‘Is this dad?’ He asked as he motioned at Javier.

‘Yeah.’ You replied, taking the younger Peña by surprise.

‘Well let's take a look shall we.’ He said as he started to take her temperature ‘103. No wonder you're grumpy.’ He said as he placed the thermometer back down ‘Lets listen to that little ticker shall we?’ He said as he opened the front of her Winnie the Pooh onesie.

You and Javier watched as he moved the stethoscope around her little chest, letting out a sympathetic sigh as he placed the instrument back around his neck.

‘It's just a cold.’ He said, placing a comforting hand on your arm.

‘What can we do to help her?’ Asked Javier and you turned your head to look at him briefly before looking back at the doctor.

‘Lots of mums breast milk or formula.’ He started ‘The fever is clearly making her uncomfortable so I’ll prescribe some Calpol for that. Will hopefully bring that fever down quickly.’

‘Thank you.’ You said kindly, giving him a genuine smile.

Scooping your still fussy baby into your arms you followed the doctor out and to the pharmacy where he hands the lady at the desk a slip.

‘Get well soon Sophia.’ Said the doctor sweetly as he gently pinched the infant's cheek before bidding you both goodbye.

Javier watched as you picked up the prescription and that's when it hit him. Sophia. He hadn’t known her name until tonight and the more he thought about it, the more he thought it suited her. Smiling to himself, he doesn’t notice you had turned to face him.

‘Javier?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Can we go now?’ You huffed and he sprung into action, leading the way back to his Jeep.

…

‘See I told you Mija.’ Said Chucho as he rocked a sleeping Sophia in his arms ‘Just a cold.’

It hadn’t been difficult to get the little one to take her medicine and within ten minutes she was out like a light.

‘How she caught a cold in the middle of summer I’ll never know.’ You chuckled, smiling at the older man as he fawned over his granddaughter.

You noticed out of the corner of your eye that Javier was watching him, conflicting emotions battling for dominance on his face and for a moment you felt sorry for him.

‘Thank you for taking me to the hospital.’ You pipped up and he glanced up at you.

‘It's fine.’ He replied coldly and you felt the sympathy dissolve.

‘Well, I better get her home.’ You said as you took her from Chucho.

‘I will see you on Sunday.’ She said to the older man, giving him a peck on the cheek.

Glancing at Javier you noticed him staring off at nothing in particular and scoffed, kissing your daughter's warm brow as you made your way out of the door and to your car.

‘What's Sunday?’ He asked his father after he knew you had left.

‘She and I have Sunday lunch together once a month.’ He stated plainly ‘I’ll leave something out for you.’ He finished before retiring upstairs again, tired from the evening drama.

2 months later…

You smiled at Chucho bounced Sophia on his knee as she tugged at his moustache. She was fascinated with her abuelo’s facial hair, always trying to grab it with her tiny hands. You thought, for a moment, about whether she’d do the same with Javier, the facial hair style being a trend amongst Peña men.

‘There was something I wanted to ask you Mija.’ He said suddenly, pulling you from your thoughts.

‘What's that?’

‘Do you think that perhaps Javi could come to dinner this Sunday?’

‘Chucho-.’

‘He’s been trying Mija.’ The older man interrupted ‘He’s been hurting. Seeing his daughter from afar but not being able to hold her.’

‘Well, who’s fault is that?’ You snapped as you took a sip from your lemonade.

‘I found him crying the other night over a photo of her.’ He said and you looked at him in shock ‘He’d never admit it but this whole situation is killing him.’

‘I'm sorry he's hurting. Truly I am but I just don’t want Sophia to grow attached to him and then him leave again.’ You stated and Chucho nodded in response.

‘I understand Mija but he’s put that life behind him.’ He paused, taking in your expression ‘He has nightmares you know. That country destroyed him and now he’s returned home to learn he's a father but he can't be one no matter how much he wants to be. I’m worried about him Mija.’

‘Worried how?’

‘He doesn't really eat.’ He stated as he pulled a tired Sophia to his chest ‘He’s cut down on the drink and the cigarettes but he’s not taking care of himself. He barely leaves the house. I’ve managed to get him to help me with a few jobs on the ranch but most of the time he’s either laying in bed, not sleeping, or sat out on the deck staring off at nothing.

‘What do you want me to say Chucho?’

‘Just let him hold her.’ He pleaded ‘Even if it’s just the once. Let him just hold her a moment. Let him come on Sunday and just have a little time with her.’

You sat there in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say.

‘Please Mija.’ He begged one last time and you nodded.

Perhaps it was time to mend fences.

Dinner was almost done by the time the Peña men arrived. Chucho entered first, Javier trailing behind him and he watched as you hugged and kissed his father in greeting before grabbing Sophia so she could kiss her Abuelo, or lick, on the cheek.

‘Hi.’ You said to Javier and the man was startled.

‘Hi.’ He replied, nodding slightly ‘Thanks for letting me come along.’ He said, fiddling with the hat in his hands,

‘She’s getting so big.’ Said Chucho as he bounced his granddaughter in his arms ‘Isn’t she getting bigger Javier?’

‘Yeah… yeah she is.’ He replied as he smiled at his daughter.

‘Would you uh… Would you like to hold her?’ You asked, your nerves seeping into your voice as he looked at you in shock.

‘You sure?’ He asked but his eyes were full of hope.

‘Yeah.’ You replied, watching as Chucho carefully handed Sophia to her father.

She squeaked loudly at him as she tried to reach for his moustache and you chuckled at her, smiling as he placed a kiss on her tiny palm.

‘Hey, Hermosa.’ He said softly as he gazed at her, their brown orbs locking.

At that moment he realised there was nothing he wouldn't do for her and his heart swelled. Taking a seat he lifted her so that she was at eye level with him and he rested his forehead against hers, breathing in her smell and smiling as her hands slapped tapped his cheeks.

‘I love you, baby girl.’ He said quietly as he brought his lips to her brow ‘And if momia will let me. I will spend the rest of my days proving it to you.’

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña x you #javier peña gif #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier peña fanfiction #javier pena fanfiction #narcos fanfiction x reader #narcos fanfiction x you #narcos x you #narcos x reader #narcos #narcos gifs #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal gif

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

The former God of Magic resents The Mother for sticking him on Earth, and plans on causing as much havoc as he can to punish Her;

Version 2, Dark!Merlin

INTRO

(Version 1, Good!Merlin)

TW: A lot of emotional manipulation, a little violence, a lot of angst.

“You’re late.”

The woman’s well practiced blank mask falls into a scowl as she stares at Merlin with mistrust:

“Well, perhaps I was putting off coming to see you, no matter how necessary it is.”

The gang can see the bob of Merlin’s head as he lets out a low chuckle, and they have to stop themselves from recoiling; they’d never heard a noise like that from their young friend before, it sounded almost... cruel.

He lifts a hand to cover his heart as he says in faux offense:

“You wound me, sister. You didn’t want to see your favourite sibling?”

Everyone frowns in confusion, Merlin doesn’t have... siblings. That’s not even mentioning the fact that this woman barely seems human.

The woman doesn’t hide her slight disgust, taking a step back from Merlin and letting out a harsh breath:

“I came here to tell you that you need to hurry up. Time is running out.”

Merlin chuckles again, turning to the side and taking a few short paces, his hands held leisurely behind his back. The amusement on his face is disturbing, and Arthur gulps, not noticing the way Mordred is growing paler and paler by the second. Merlin doesn’t turn to look at the woman as he speaks, and his smirk stretches wider:

“But I’m having so much fun, Ava!”

The woman, Ava, huffs again, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. If the gang weren’t so semi-sure that Merlin wasn’t dangerous, they’d think she looked scared:

“Mother sent you here to complete a task. Get it done, and you can come home. Isn’t that what you want? To come home?”

Merlin’s smirk falls, and the snarl that the gang briefly see on his face before he whips around to face Ava takes their breath away. They barely notice the thunder, snapping in the distance in time with Merlin’s anger:

“Mother’s the one keeping me here in the first place. She could accept me back any time.”

Ava takes another step back, and Merlin tilts his head ever so slightly at the movement, but waits for her to speak:

“As punishment for your cruelty. She isn’t happy, you’re making a mess of things.”

Merlin chuckles again, tilting his head even further, and his words have an immediate chilling effect on the group hiding in the bushes:

“Well, if she insists on sending the God of Chaos to fix a problem, perhaps she should expect a little mess. Plus, I’m having more fun here than I’ve had in centuries. These humans... so gullible.-”

Ava shakes her head mournfully, but before she can say anything, Merlin continues, now pacing calmly around the clearing, waving his hands and grinning in his excitement:

“-I mean, they’re just so... easy. To play with, to manipulate. You know they all trust me? They all come running to naïve, innocent, loving little Merlin, spilling all their secrets as they go. Did you know, the drunkard is the son of a noble? “Fuck nobility” my arse, he is nobility.-”

Gwaine clenches his jaw and looks to the floor, ignoring the stares of Arthur and Leon, but before anything can be muttered, Merlin continues, listing their greatest secrets off on his fingers:

“-The gentle giant is terrified that someone’s going to find out that his preferences lie with men, which is ridiculous considering the way he stares at the aforementioned drunkard when he thinks no one but little old me is watching. The blacksmith, even years on, is terrified that his whore sister will never forgive him for... something or other, I wasn’t really paying attention. Camelot’s first, The King’s most trusted, has a debilitating fear of heights, and oh if it isn’t just hilarious to watch when he has to patrol the city walls. And then, there’s the-”

Ava rolls her mournful eyes and interrupts him:

“Your point, Em?”

Merlin laughs, fully and from the belly, but the sound doesn’t bring the gang joy like it normally does:

“My point, is that I’ve got these idiots wrapped around my finger. Mortals: the universe’s most fun toy. I haven’t even gotten to half of them yet. There’s the noble one, who thinks he holds my trust, the Druid boy, whose only redeeming feature is that he’s destined to kill the King Prat one day; believe me, if it weren’t for that I’d have killed the annoying little twerp years ago. Then there’s the King Prat’s magical sister, who is full of such terror. I play with her dreams some nights, force visions of pyres and hatred and destruction to play over and over in her mind. It’s rather amusing, watching her thrash and sweat and whimper in her sleep.-”

Arthur’s head had whipped around to Morgana when Merlin had mentioned her, but the tears streaming down her face and the way her hand was clamped tightly over her mouth stripped his anger from him. Which left him with no distraction, no way to ignore the simple fact of what was happening right now. Merlin was... not what they thought. He was powerful, he was using them. He was playing with them like puppets and pulling their strings this way and that, watching as they could do nothing but follow. Arthur didn’t know what to think, and he definitely didn’t notice the tears on his own cheeks.

Mordred was pale to the point of looking like he was about to faint and Lancelot had a deep frown on his face, tears in his eyes but not quite falling, not yet. This was... a misunderstanding. He... he knows Merlin, this is a trick, or a trap, he’ll explain later and everything will be just fine. He just has to... to trust him. Everything will be fine.

Gwaine keeps his gaze on the floor. A small part of him was feeling a little prideful that Percival liked him back, but the rest of him... had no room for anything but grief. He had suspected that Merlin had magic, but this was something else, this was... a whole new person. Did he ever really know Merlin? Did any of them?

Elyan and Gwen sat pressed together tightly, though Gwen had one hand on Morgana’s shaking back, and her other was reaching around Elyan, gripping Leon’s shoulder tightly. Leon was just staring blankly at the scene in front of him, though anyone that knew him well enough would be able to see the tight clench of his jaw and the anger (and grief) in his eyes.

Ava interrupted Merlin’s gleeful ranting, the tears in her eyes a little more prominent as she took on a slightly more desperate tone:

“Please, Em, just... stop. They’re important, they have destinies, you can not destroy them or push them too far; this is cruel, even for you. This... you never used to be like this.”

Merlin turns around, facing away from his sister and giving the hidden group full view of his rage-filled face. His voice is quiet and clipped and angry as he asks:

“Oh?”

Another roll of thunder echoes through the clearing, closer this time, and fat droplets of rain fall harshly from the sky, mixing with the tears on everyone’s face. Ava sighs, tears overflowing as she gulps before answering, her voice shaking slightly as she takes a step towards Merlin:

“You’re meant to be the God of Magic, not Chaos. You were so... beautiful, balanced. You saw wonder in everything, every little spark of magic and every single prayer put a smile on your face. You loved humanity even more than Mother did. Now look at you, you’re tormenting them, torturing them. This isn’t you, Em, please. Help them, and things can go back to the way they were, help them and you can come home.”

The anger on Merlin’s face had only grown as she spoke, and each individual hidden in the bushes had to make a concerted effort to stop themselves from bolting. None of them had felt terror like it, and the fact that it was Merlin they were all so scared of... well, it didn’t help.

Lightening streaks across the sky and wind howls violently through the forest, calming only when Merlin shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, straightening his back and smirking slightly before he replies, still not turning around to face his sister:

“You’re right. I loved humanity, I was desperate to see them succeed. And then they butchered me. I gave them this universe to frolic in, and in return they call me a monster, a beast, they call me evil, they make nightmares out of me. I still listen to every little prayer, and do you know what I hear? I hear my people, my wonderful little creations, my creatures of magic, begging for mercy, begging for the pain to stop. The humanity I so used to love turned on them, began to burn them, out of spite and fear and hatred. I will not show them any more grace than they have showed me, I will give them exactly what they deserve, and that blonde idiot is at the top of my list of people who have to fucking pay. I won’t destroy him entirely, because ultimately I want my creatures to stop suffering, but I will break him. I will rip him apart piece by piece for what he has done to me.-”

The absolute fury in Merlin’s words, the hatred, translates to thunder in the sky and agony in Arthur’s chest. The King can barely breathe, muffling the sobs tearing from his mouth with both hands, both terrified of being discovered, and desperate to... to let Merlin punish him for the pain he has caused.

Leon settles a shaking hand on his shoulder, but Arthur doesn’t look his way, his blurry gaze focused on Merlin, now finally turning back to his sister:

“-You know, I’m this close to getting that big blonde idiot to fall in love with me. How pathetic is that?? All it took was a few touches here, a few lingering stares there, saving his life occasionally. The man is so pathetically starved for attention I imagine he’d fall for anyone who showed him the barest amount of affection. That is how I will break him.-”

The only thing stopping Arthur from sobbing aloud is Leon collapsing behind him, pulling the young King back into his chest and wrapping a tight arm around his torso, one hand clamped over his mouth as he mutters desperate reassurances into his ear. Morgana pulls Gwen close in a similar way when the servant’s cries grow harsher, her brother burying his face in her shoulder.

Lancelot barely notices Gwaine gripping his arm hard enough to leave bruises for weeks, or Percival pushing his forehead into Lance’s shoulder blade. All he can do is sit and stare at the ground, his breathing slow but shaky, tears streaming silently down his face as he rethinks everything he’s ever known.

Mordred sits on his own, rocking back and forth rhythmically as he tightens the clutch he has around his knees. Tears drip from his young cheeks, poisoning the ground beneath him as he struggles to consider his faith. His faith in magic, in Emrys, who was meant to be balanced and beautiful and giving. Emrys, who he now knew was twisted and angry and desperate for revenge.

All of their hearts are splitting, cracking down the middle.

“-It won’t be physical pain, no, that’ll be down to the Druid boy. He doesn’t want to kill Arthur now, but he will, one day, when I give him one final push. He’ll fall so far into the darkness there’ll be nothing of him left to save, and when he plunges his sword into The Pendragon’s chest, I’ll sit back and watch with a smile on my face, and Arthur will realise that the man he loves, the man who claimed to love him in return, hated him all along. Tricked him. I will watch the life drain from his eyes, and he will spend his last few moments on this world in every kind of agony imaginable, lost in the knowledge that I wanted him to suffer, that he is being punished for his sins.”

Ava shakes her head, silver tears dripping from her emerald eyes as she stares at the floor:

“Are Sir Mordred and the Lady Morgana not your creatures? Do you not wish to save at least them?”

Merlin chuckles darkly:

“I had faith in them once, but they made their decisions. They sided with a Pendragon over me. Mother may be fond of her precious Once and Future King, but to be fair, she’s fond of anything with a pulse, and I, for one, can not wait until she’s not quite so fond of him anymore.”

Ava gulps, taking a desperate step towards her amused brother, but before she can say anything, before she can make one last plea for mercy on humanity’s behalf, Merlin tilts his head, smirking dangerously:

“Do you think they’re scared?”

She halts in her tracks, blinking in confusion, and Merlin’s smile grows into a chuckle as he gestures behind him:

“The King and all his little friends, hidden in the bushes. Do you think they’re scared?”

The gang barely have time to look up in shock before their bodies are moving, out of their control. They stand rigidly and walk single-file out from their hiding place, coming to stand in a line at the side of the clearing. Merlin hasn’t even looked at them, but his hand floats in the air, a sickly looking yellow mist swirling around his fingers as he tilts his head at his sister, staring in horror at The King, the knights, the Lady, and the servant.

Merlin drops his hand and they all fall to their knees, not even bothering to be brave as they sob. The angry God finally turns, and the serene smile on his face is chilling as he walks towards them, coming to stand in front of Lance and Mordred first. The two of them are the calmest, though calm in the way that they don’t really look... present. They stare blankly ahead, breathing shallow and tears still falling as Merlin crouches in front of them, gripping a chin in each hand and shaking their heads roughly. His voice comes out a whisper, the frown on his face looking more disappointed than anything:

“So much faith, so much trust. It’s a little pitiful, if I’m being honest.”

They don’t react to his words and he smirks before letting them go and standing, moving on to Elyan and Gwen, gripping the knight’s shoulder and saying with mocking sympathy in his voice:

“You were right, by the way,-”

He glances at a fully sobbing Gwen with disgust:

“-she’ll never forgive you, but she’ll never tell you that. You’ll just spend the rest of your life wondering why your relationship was never the same.”

Next, he shuffles over to Gwaine, not even bothering to see the siblings’ reactions as he passes Leon and Percival with a look of disinterest on his face. He leans down in front of the knight, running a soft hand through his hair, waiting for the man to relax slightly before gripping his hair harshly and yanking back, so he has to look up at him. Merlin gives him a blindingly cruel smile:

“You're grateful that Percival is just as in love with you as you are with him, but don’t think yourself too lucky. You’re a hypocrite and a drunk, and my dear old Percy has too much self respect to put himself through that. I’d go for a good tumble in the hay and give up while you’re ahead.”

Once again, he moves back, his sister having to look away in her grief, her empathy drowning her. The God comes to stand in front of Morgana, who is desperately trying to look brave but failing miserably:

“And you. You’re meant to be The Darkness, but I couldn’t very well have you outdo me, could I? Try your hardest, I’ll still be the end of you, and I wait with baited breath for the day you fall, and the day soon after that, when I get to kill you.”

She break down in tears again at that, horrified with the idea that she might one day be on the same end of morality and cruelty as this monster in front of her.

Merlin smirks before rolling his eyes and finally coming to stand in front of Arthur. The King calms his breathing just enough to look up at a smirking Merlin, his voice cracking and barely-there as he mutters:

“Please... Merlin, please...”

The smirk drops from Merlin’s face as he brings his hand up, the sickly yellow mist back again. Arthur rises from the floor, hands clutching at his throat as the air is drawn from his lungs. Merlin steps closer to his with a snarl, his free hand gripping Arthur’s chin like a vice, though his voice eerily calm as he murmurs:

“You. You and Uther were so desperate for a scape-goat, for a villain, for a monster. And you picked magic, you picked me. So stop being so fucking pathetic, I’m just playing the part you gave me to perfection. You picked the premise, I’m writing the ending.”

Ava finally speaks up, her voice loud, despite the waver:

“Brother please, this is... this is beyond cruelty, please just stop.”

Arthur is dropped, and The King can barely find it in himself to choke for air as Merlin turns back to his sister, the amused smirk back on his face:

“Why? None of them are going to remember in the morning anyway. I’ve had my fun, this has been cathartic, but I can’t have them ruining my plans. So run along now sister, tell Mother that her precious task is being completed, I’m just taking the scenic route.”

She shakes her head in defeat, staring at the floor. She lifts her head, opening her mouth to make one last attempt, but she closes it, realising that there’s nothing she could possibly say to persuade him to suddenly have mercy, mercy that no one had ever shown him. She gulps, letting out a deep breath before shaking her head again and turning around, walking back into the trees, the way she came.

The God looks back to his puppets, shivering in time with their knotted strings, smirking once more before he clicks his fingers and everything goes dark.

Arthur wakes the next morning feeling oddly refreshed and surprisingly unannoyed at his idiot manservant’s lateness. He rolls his eyes at the bright sunshine glaring through his curtains, the sun certainly a lot higher in the sky than it should be at the time The King wakes, but oh well. Merlin has been chipper lately, and the warmth that Arthur feels in his chest at the younger man’s happiness makes him more likely to forgive him his tardiness.

As if thinking of him had summoned him (wishful thinking on Arthur’s part), Merlin bursts through the doors, not bothering to knock as per usual, a breakfast-laden tray in his arms and a cheeky grin on his face. Arthur rolls his eyes again, chucking a pillow at Merlin half-heartedly as he grumbles, also half-heartedly:

“You’re late.”

Merlin chuckles, setting the tray down on the table before jogging endearingly over to Arthur’s bedside, grabbing his hand and pulling him to stand upright:

“Something tells me you don’t mind all that much, Your Pratness.”

Arthur huffs, but only to stop himself from smiling, and resolutely ignores the way Merlin’s hand is still in his. The servant squeezes his palm softly, and Arthur gulps, pulling away and walking towards his meal, hoping the food would squash the butterflies in his stomach.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes, smiling to himself softly at a whole range of things: the good night’s rest he’d had, the bright sunshine, Merlin’s good mood, the sensation of Merlin’s hand in his own, Merlin’s dazzling smile, Merlin, Merlin, Merlin...

Merlin stares at his back as he goes, noting with a dangerously satisfied smirk the red blush of his ears.

The scenic route indeed.

THE END!!

Oops I made myself sad. Sorry to say but I hope this makes you sad too.

This was SUPER fun to write and I’m so glad I decided to do two versions😅

Link to the Good!Merlin version (much MUCH fluffier, I promise) at the top!!

200 notes · View notes

patt-writes-stuff · 3 years

Text

Violetgrass (Xiao x f!reader)

Pairing: Yan!Xiao x f!reader

Word count: 6.7K+

Warnings: not the most canon complaint cuz the timeline for the archon War is a little blurry? Angst with no happy ending, major and repeated character death, semi-detailed descriptions of blood, injuries, and violence. Unhealthy and toxic relationships, yandere themes, mentions of stalking, controlling behavior, mentions of kid-napping, forced captivity. Unhealthy mindsets and generally xiao’s kinda slowly losing his sanity. Some delusions. Allusions of starvation/dehydration (it’s like one sentence). Pleas do not read this if any of the previously mentioned topics trigger you in any way.

Genre: Angst and Yandere

Tags/Aus: Mythology Au, Reincarnation Au

Summary: You and Xiao were lovers during the Archon War. You were his paradise, his bliss, and, unfortunately, a fragile mortal who was taken away far too soon. However Celestina was kind enough, or perhaps cruel enough, to bring you back to Xiao, only to rip you out of his loving embrace once more. This happens again and again, each time far more painfully than the last. Even an Adeptus such as Xiao can only take so much before he snaps though. This time, he’s gonna make sure that no one, not even you, can take his bliss away.

A/N: This is my piece for the Attack on Academia Mythology Au Collab!! Be sure to check the rest of them, they’re all super awesome and made by amazing writers!

You’ve heard the myth about the Vigilant Yaksha and the violetgrass maiden, haven’t you?

It’s said that the two are eternally intertwined, destined to love each other, only to be ripped apart by both her mortality and the cruelty of the gods. The tale itself goes like this…

The first time the Adeptus and his mortal lover met was back when the Archon War was still roaring. The smell of blood and misery filled the air and Rex Lapis had yet to claim his title as the Geo Archon. Despite this, some managed to find joy and serenity in these troubling periods.

The maiden was one of those people. She found joy in frolicking through the fields and climbing the highest mountains to collect qingxin flowers and, her personal favorite, violetgrass, whenever she had the time. Though climbing up the steep mountains and jagged peaks of Liyue was indeed dangerous, the damsel had become quite skilled at climbing, her hold rarely ever slipping, no falls or cuts of any sort.

Until one day, the maiden was climbing up a particular mountain. It was a troublesome one, for there were no proper footholds or protruding stones to grab on to. Still, the pretty violetgrass that was just a foot or two away from her, swaying gently with the wind, was far too tempting to not collect. It would look so lovely in a flower crown, or maybe a vase, perhaps she could flatten it out to make a bookmark or-

A piercing shriek escaped the mortal. Whilst her thoughts had been elsewhere, she’d stopped on a small ledge that was far too fragile to support her weight, the rock beneath the maiden gave away to nothing before she could react.

She shut their eyes tightly, bracing herself for an impact that would surely leave her battered and bruised, if not dead.

However, it never came.

Instead, she was caught mid-air by a pair of strong arms that secured their hold under the mortal woman’s knees and neck. She didn’t open her eyes right away, for fear that she would still fall, choosing instead to catch their breath. Once her savior landed safely on the ground, something she was able to detect due to the thud of shoes against the earth, she slowly opened her eyes.

Upon opening them, her eyes met with the piercing amber eyes of a young man with dark hair (the color of the ocean at night, she thought dreamily) with pretty teal bangs framing his even prettier face. His brows were furrowed slightly, thin lips twisted into what seemed to be a permanent frown. In her still dazed state, she couldn’t help but think that he was far too handsome to look so dreadfully serious.

After an intense moment of eye contact, perhaps too intense for two strangers that had met only seconds prior, he let her go in a rather unceremonious manner, causing her to squawk in surprise, knees buckling under the unexpected weight. She had not yet had a chance to gather her bearings after such a terrifying event.

Instead of asking if she was alright, the young man simply said, in a rather crude and callous manner, “You should be more careful, mortal. If I hadn’t been there to catch you, you would’ve surely broken your neck.”

She gawked at him. Mortal? Why would he refer to her in such an… odd way?

The maiden looked at him up and down, as if trying to understand just what was wrong with this poor man. Suddenly, it struck her. She’d been an absolute idiot to not have noticed sooner. From the tattoo that adorned his right arm to the way he held himself, it had been so obvious.

Her savior was an Adeptus.

He wasn’t just an Adeptus, no. He was much more than that. He was one of the Adepti who served under Rex Lapis. He was one of the five Yakshas who kept her and the people of Liyue safe if the mask tied to his belt was any indication. And instead of killing demons or evil gods, he’d taken the time to save her.

Before she could muster an adequate thank you, he, who she’d now realized was Adeptus Xiao, was already leaving, uttering a quick “Please be careful,” on his way.

Quickly, and without really thinking, she grabbed onto his wrist, blabbering out the words, “Wait, don’t go! You must allow me to repay you for your generous actions!”

The amber-eyed Adeptus opened his mouth, ready to declare that it was unnecessary, but before he could, the damsel spoke up, “I could cook you something in return. How about almond tofu?” with a small giggle she added, “I assure you it’s sweeter than those dreams you eat.”

To both of their surprises, Xiao uttered a quiet, almost shy, “Yes.”

The Adeptus didn’t know what had come over him. All he knew is that there was something about the way her eyes sparkled and her lips moved, her soothing, melodious voice. It made his heart pound in a way it never had before.

And so, she cooked him some almond tofu, and they- well, she- talked as he ate the mouthwatering sweet.

He came back the day after that one and the one after that, followed on by the one after that, and so on. Xiao hadn’t meant to, really he hadn’t. But there was something about the maiden that just brought him a peace he had never experienced before. Her warm embrace and soft, gentle words were all he needed to keep fighting, to keep living, even. She was his paradise, his bliss. It wasn’t long until they were mutually infatuated with one another, deeply in love.

Every time he would visit her home, he would always bring her the flowers she so adored. Glaze lilies, silk flowers, and of course, violetgrass. Xiao had even gifted her a small broach, one made of the finest noctilucous jade, shaped like the downturned purple flower.

Unfortunately, everything is temporary for those punished with immortality.

The first time Xiao lost his maiden was, as he remembers, a rainy day. Despite the dreary weather, she had decided to go violetgrass picking since they’re always best picked after the rain.

But, dear Archons, what a dreadful idea that had been.

While the purple flower is indeed best picked after it rains, it is also the time when rocks are most… slippery.

So, as the maiden was climbing up the steep mountains of Juyen Karst, her right hand’s hold on the rock slipped, causing her palm to be cut open by a particularly jagged piece of stone. She hissed in, watching as blood began to ooze out. Panic started to seep in, there was no ledge for her to tend to her wound, and the cut was far too big for her to continue to climb up or down.

Dread began to fill her to her very core, she felt burning hot with unchecked anxiety, fear begging to settle into her gut in the most uncomfortable of manners. She should have waited for Xiao as he had asked of her. Ever since they had first met, a year ago to the day, he’d been so adamant on wanting to go with her to ensure her safety. She’d only wanted to surprise him with some when he returned home. The maiden was so sure it would’ve been a romantic anniversary gift, seeing as they were the cause of their meeting…

She’d been such a fool.

The violetgrass maiden attempted to climb down but Celestia seemed to laugh at her feeble attempts. She stretched her leg, trying to find the foothold she had used previously. However, her foot slipped and before she knew it, she was falling, just as she had been a year ago.

Horror filled her lungs, making it hard for her to breathe, her life flashed before her eyes, and then suddenly she remembered some words her lover had uttered to her one night under the glow of the moonlight when it was but the two of them in each other’s arms:

“If you awake to a knife at your throat, if monsters dig their claws into you, if death comes knocking at your door, call out my name, Adeptus Xiao. I will be here when you call.”

And so she called, at the top of her lungs, as loud as she could muster. The seconds seemed to turn to hours as she shut her eyes and waited to feel the strong arms of her lover, to hear the safety of his heartbeat.

But it never came.

Or rather, it came too late.

By the time Xiao had finished up the demonic creatures that threatening Liyue, by the time he’d answered her call, he was already too late.

Upon manifesting in the air out of nothing, he was greeted by the side of his love’s pitiful, mortal body. Her garments were bloody, the basket she carried her flowers in laid a few feet away from her body,her neck bent in a painfully awkward way.

Xiao felt so helpless. He was so helpless.

He could do no more than hold back the tears stinging his eyes and attempting to shake her awake.

The second time Xiao met the maiden was no more than a century after the first time. The Archon War was not yet over and sickness plagued every nook and cranny, taking the lives of hundreds upon thousands.

The two star-crossed lovers were reunited one clear summer night when the maiden was wandering aimlessly through the fields of Lingju Pass. She knew it was dangerous during these times, especially with how ill she had been feeling as of late. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She’d already spent hours tossing and turning in her bed. Sleep, however, refused to come. Instead, she felt the overwhelming urge to leave the safety of her bed and go there. It was as if someone had tied a rope around her waist and was tugging at it persistently, insisting she follows.

And so she followed.

Upon reaching a clearing, she froze. In front of her very eyes was a sitting Stonehide Lawachurl, the type even the fiercest warriors in your village struggled with. The maiden quickly started backing away, praying to the Lord of Geo that it wouldn’t sense her presence. Her prayers were in vain, however, for as soon as the thought escaped her, she stepped on a twig, making it snap and effectively alerting the fearsome monster of her presence.

She shook in terror as parts of the Lawachurl’s rocky exterior began to glow with geo elemental energy. She hadn’t expected anything of the sort to happen so she hadn’t brought her sword, meaning she couldn’t exactly fight it, definitely not without a vision at least. Running wasn’t much of an option considering her body’s weak and ill state. She could try to outrun it, sure, but it wouldn’t be long before she was driven to a coughing fit because of it.

Before life had a chance to flash before her eyes, a masked young man appeared. Distantly, she recognized him as one of the adepti and watched him easily defeat the Stonehide Lawachurl with a series of short, consecutive plunges. She couldn’t help but watch him, mouth agape in an expression of pure, unadulterated awe. The Adeptus didn’t even need a claymore to break through the creature’s thick, hard exterior. As bad as she felt for not assisting him, she knew she weren’t exactly in any position to lend a hand. Not that she needed to, though, for soon enough the monster crumbled into nothing but red and black smoke.

After a second of panting over the remains of what was left of the creature, polearm in hand, Xiao turned to her and felt his blood run cold.

It was her.

How could it be her? She had died long ago. He knew she had, he’d cradled her cold body as tears streamed down his face. He’d taken her lifeless body back to her family. He’d left flowers at her grave.

This had to be some sort of sick joke, he thought, perhaps the karmic debt was finally getting to him, just like it had his fellow Yakshas.

Suddenly, his amber eyes zeroed in on a broach she had pinned to her dress. A Violetgrass broach, to be exact. Made of noctilucous jade, just like the one he had given her. The one he’d made for her with his own hands. There was no denying it was the very one. Only, how could that be? He had ensured it had been buried with you…

But it was an indisputable fact. That broach was the one he had made for his love and the woman before him was her. It was her from her wide eyes, fixated on him with the same wonder they had always had when they looked at him. Her hair was the same color and texture, and it framed her face in the same way. It was her.

The beginnings of tears stung at his eyes. Perhaps Celestia had brought you back? Perhaps they’d finally realized, just as he had always known, that her death was cruel and unfair. That it wasn’t meant to be. That she was meant to be in his arms, happy and safe.

“Uhm- excuse me, Adeptus Xiao, are you alright?” She inquired worriedly, eyes solely on him, filled to the brim with concern.

‘Oh Archons’, he couldn’t help but think distantly, ‘I’ve missed her voice.’

Instead of running up to her and crushing him in his loving embrace, he stayed where he was, took off his mask, nodded briskly, swallowing as if to avoid the tightness in his throat. She didn’t seem to remember him yet, so there was no use in frightening her.

Before he could muster up the courage to speak to her, his love began to cough furiously, though she attempted to cover it up. She didn’t want to be rude to her savior, after all.

“Ha, pardon me, sir, I’ve just been feeling a bit under the weather is all,” she told him feebly.

He nodded brusquely, before uttering, “I shall return you home safely.”

“Oh no, I assure you, you’ve done more than enough for me. I can’t ask that of you,” she fumbled hurriedly, though his words were more of a statement than a question.

Xiao had never been one for unnecessary- or at least what he thought were unnecessary- words, so instead of saying anything, the Adeptus simply grabbed her by the waist and teleported you home, after asking where home was, of course.

The next day, the Yaksha visited the maiden’s home, a bushel of violetgrass flowers in hand. She’d been understandably surprised, yet thrilled that the dark-haired man was visiting her. She hadn’t expected someone as busy as him to make time for a regular person such as herself, especially not during these times.

“These are my favorite flowers, y’know? They’re just so beautiful,” the maiden exclaimed gleefully.

He did know. That had been one of the reasons he had brought them to her. The second reason was because of what happened last time, in her previous life, he supposed. Celestia had been kind enough to gift him a second chance with his love, and he was going to ensure that it did not go to waste.

And so, every day he would visit her. Some days he would bring silk flowers, or glaze lilies, while other days he would bring her loach pearls and core lapis. Not a day went by where he would not appear in front of the damsel’s house, a gift in hand, ready to hear her ramble about whatever that beautiful brain of hers desired to prattle on about.

“You’re simply too generous Xiao,” she’d told him playfully while she laid in her bed, as she was still unwell, the Adeptus seated in a plush chair next to it. “There has to be something I can give you in return for everything. I won’t take no for an answer.”

He thought for a moment, before asking, tentatively, “Do you know how to make almond tofu?”

He’d never forget her dazzling smile that day, as she shakily got out of her bed, latching onto the support he offered while she gathered her bearings, and marched to her kitchen, enthusiastically preparing the sweet treat as she talked about a book she’d been reading, one that’d been gifted to her by a friend, titled Moonlit Bamboo Forest.

The lovers did this every day for months. Xiao brought her some medicinal tea that Rex Lapis himself said could cure her ailments. They did indeed begin to see improvement in her health and Xiao couldn’t help but feel immense relief. This time, he wouldn’t lose her for certain.

Until the plagues reached her village.

She’d been one of the first to catch it since the village doctor came to check on her so often, he’d spread it to her. The plague, coupled with her previous illness, weakened her body in a manner of days. One day, Xiao went to get some medicine his fellow adepti had guaranteed would help the maiden feel better.

When he returned later that day, however, he found her body in the bed, cold and without a pulse, the stench of death and sickness thick in the air.

That was the second time he had lost her.

The third time the star-crossed lovers met was long after the archon war. Liyue was now its own nation with its own name, the great center of wealth and commerce. The Yakshas were now a thing of the past, having succumbed to their karmic debt. Eventually, they all fell in one way or another.

All but Xiao, who remained a constant throughout it all.

Over the past decade or so, Xiao had taken to staying at the Wangshu Inn when he wasn’t slaying monsters. The people were nice enough, though he had long given up on attempting to form emotional connections with others. It would only lead to grief, just like it had when he’d lost his love or his fellow Yakshas, and there was only so much grief anyone, mortal or not, could take before their thread of sanity snapped in half. And with his Karmic Debt being as bad as it was…

As Xiao sat at the edge of the balcony of the Wangshu Inn, legs dangling below, he couldn’t help but think of her, his maiden. He wondered if, perhaps, Celestia would give him a third chance and bring her back to him. Honestly, the Adeptus wasn’t sure he wanted a third chance with her. While he did miss the sound of her heartbeat and the sweet words she’d utter to him and only him, he doubted he could bear the pain of having her ripped away from him once again.

It’s as if Celestia was taunting Xiao. As if the Archons above were bored and found some sick amusement in his pain as if his emotions were nothing but a game to them. What other explanations were there for what happened next?

“Um- excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?” An angelic voice he knew far too well, missed far too much, spoke.

Xiao looked up and lo and behold, it was her. Same hair, same eyes, same violetgrass broach.

She stood behind him clutching a plate of something, though the angle wouldn’t allow him to make up what it was. Her face adorned that same anxious smile of hers and he could feel himself falling in love with the maiden all over again. He knew he should say no. He shouldn’t allow her back in, not when he’s already lost her so many times before, not when they’d both suffered so much just by being together.

He nodded before looking away.

He shouldn’t but he would.

“I hope you don’t mind me intruding on your quiet time,” she said softly once she had settled beside him. When he made no indication of answering, she continued, “To be honest, you just seemed so… sad, melancholic even. Something about it, even if I don’t really know you, doesn’t sit right with me. It makes my heart feel heavy.”

The violetgrass maiden received no response, except for a soft grunt of acknowledgment, so small she wasn’t sure she hadn’t imagined it. Still, it was all she needed to perk up and stretch her arms out, offering him the plate she’d been holding.

“Here, I got this for you,” she told him, “word around the streets is you’ve got quite an appetite for it! Though this is my first time staying at the Inn, so I’m not sure if it’s any good here.”

Xiao looked at her, amber eyes filled with love. He was glad to know that, despite living through many lives now, she was still the girl he’d met back then, as sweet as he’d remembered her, just as caring.

He shouldn’t have but he took the plate from her hands and began to eat.

Instead of saying anything, she simply watched him as he ate, a silly little smile making its way to her face. The look on his lady’s face had him growing hot and turning beet red

“So,” he coughed out, embarrassed, “where’d you get a broach like that?”

“Oh, this one?” She inquired, pointing at the shiny violetgrass broach, “I found it lying on the ground one day when I was out picking lotus heads for dinner. I asked just about everyone in Liyue Harbor if it was theirs, but no luck. I eventually decided to just keep it for myself. It is a shame though, whoever lost it must truly be upset over losing such a beautiful piece of jewelry. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

He nodded along, thinking that, well, the broach actually was with its owner.

“It’s as if it were fate though,” she prattled on happily, watching the stars as she talked, “Violeygrass is my very favorite, always has been really. Though, I’ve always been too scared to climb up for them myself. You see, ever since I was little, I’ve had this recurring nightmare where I fell to my death while collecting some.”

The Adeptus stilled for a second, tense. She hadn’t ever brought up dreams about her past life. Maybe this time was different, maybe she’d remember what he did!

“Oh my Archons,” she exclaimed, face warm with embarrassment, scratching the back of her head sheepishly, “I’ve been going on and on! I’m so sorry, something about you feels so familiar. It makes me feel like I can tell you just about everything. Is that weird?”

His heart was racing like it hadn’t in years, decades even.

“You can tell me whatever you want,” he answered shortly, “I don’t mind listening. You have a nice voice.”

The maiden covered her hands with her face, flustered, and Xiao let out a rare smile, soft and gentle. This time would be different. He’d make sure of it.

After that day, the maiden began to visit the Wangshu Inn often, whenever she could spare time away from her job. Unbeknownst to her, however, Xiao followed at a distance when she wasn’t visiting him, to ensure her safety. He knew it wasn’t right, truly, but he had no other choice. He had to, or else he’d risk losing her to an accident such as last time, fall ill again, attacked by monsters or, Celestia forbid, be kidnapped by a group of treasure hoarders.

He’d have to get rid of any and all threats.

So, Xiao continued to follow his maiden from a distance, he made sure she was in tip-top shape, and ruthlessly slaughtering all enemies that he deemed a threat to her, until he was certain nothing would take her away from him again.

Except for one threat. Himself.

The third time he’d lost her was on a beautiful night, not that Xiao could remember it well. His love had insisted on the two of them taking a walk. She’d reasoned that the cool night air would help him regain control. His karmic debt had been weighing on him an awful lot recently and she simply couldn’t bear to see him in such excruciating pain.

The walk had started off rather pleasantly, as far as Xiao could remember. He could remember nudging his hand against hers, wanting to hold it but being far too shy to do so. With a laugh and a teasing remark, the maiden interlaced their fingers, bringing up their hands to place a gentle kiss on his, making the tips of his ears redden in bashfulness. They’d walked a little further until they encountered a group of hilichurls accompanied by a pyro abyss mage. Without skipping a beat, Xiao stepped in front of his lover, polearm appearing in his hand.

And then…

Everything went dark. Xiao’s mind was nothing but a void, pain exploded in every inch of his body as his karmic debt returned in full force to punish him for the slaughtering he’d committed.

When he came to, his mind was hazy, unsure of what had occurred. The Yaksha sat up, ignoring the way his muscles protested against it, and looked around, trying to make sense of what had happened and where he was.

Xiao froze when his eyes locked onto her pitiful body laying a few feet ahead of him in the grass surrounded by arrowheads and broken hilichurl masks, blood turning ice-cold. If he ignored the gashes across her body, the ones that were unmistakably made by the bloody spear he was clutching and not some hilichurl club or bow and arrow, and the blood that stained her pretty garments, he could almost fool himself into thinking she was asleep.

This had been his doing.

After a few beats of stunned silence, the dark-haired Adeptus lurched forward grabbing onto her cold body and shaking ruthlessly, calling out her name frantically, as if it would make his love wake up, make her cradle his face lovingly and ask why he’d been crying.

Xiao looked up onto the sky scornfully, looking up at Celestia with nothing short of pure, unadulterated loathing. He was willing to bet they were all mocking him right now, laughing at how weak and pathetic he was, at how time after time, he’d failed to love her enough, to keep her alive. They did this on purpose he was sure of it, those bastards. Well, if they could play dirty like this, so could he. He’d get her back, he’d keep her alive by his side.

And just like that, Xiao’s thread of sanity snapped.

“You can’t take her away from me anymore,” he spoke to the sky nonsensically, “I won’t let you. I don’t care what I have to do, who I have to kill, you won’t take my bliss away from me again.”

“That story was quite depressing,” Chongyun stated, ceasing his footsteps to look to his friend, Xingqiu.

“Ah yes, it is indeed, my liege,” the navy blue-haired gentleman agreed, “However, I’m glad this book included the whole myth, instead of making me wait for the next volume like the last one.”

The light blue-haired boy rolled his eyes before saying, “As much as I appreciated you reading the book aloud, I don’t see how this aids us in our search for (Y/N).”

The reason the boys had been searching across all of Liyue, was because their aforementioned friend had mysteriously gone missing. Everything had been as it normally was until one day, (Y/N) didn’t show up at her job in the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, something that was incredibly unusual of her, especially without a warning to her boss or coworkers. This led Hu Tao, with the insistence of Zhongli, to ask Chongyun and Xingqiu, two of (Y/N)’s friends, for help in the search for her. They had also contacted the milelith, but they had told them that she’d not been missing for long enough to warrant a search party. The two had, of course, been quick to help, though Xingqiu had been rather enraptured in a book of Liyue Myths, simply insisting he’d have to take it with him so he could read while he searched for her.

“But my liege,” Xingqiu exclaimed playfully, golden eyes shining with mirth, “this story is of utmost importance in our search for our beloved friend. Why, for all we know, (Y/N) might’ve been kidnapped by the Vigilant Yaksha himself! She has always had a habit of climbing mountains to pick violetgrass like the maiden in the book”

“Do not be so ridiculous,” Chongyun said, rolling his eyes, “I doubt an Adeptus such as himself would ever commit such an atrocity of that degree against a citizen of Liyue. Besides, that myth is incredibly old and there’s very little evidence that proves its validity. It’s more likely that (Y/N) was taken by a demon. That is why I asked you to accompany me to Wuwang Hill.”

“I was simply joking Chongyun,” he said with a laugh before turning solemn, “However, regretfully I feel as though it is time for the two of us to return to Liyue Harbor for the day. You’ve just about run out of popsicles and with this heat, I have no doubt you’ll overheat if we keep going.”

“I’m afraid you’re right,” The blue-eyed boy admitted. “I hope (Y/N) is alright wherever she is.”

“I do as well,” Xingqiu agreed, “Perhaps Hu Tao and Zhongli have had more luck.”

Chongyun nodded, “Xiangling also said she’d ask her customers if they’d seen her.”

With that, the two boys made their way back to Lihue Harbor, oblivious to just how true Xingqiu’s joke had been.

Xiao sighed as he climbed up the stairs of Wangshu Inn up to his room. Of course, he did not need sleep, it was a mortal need in and of itself, or a room for that matter but Verr Goldet had insisted that he should have his own space, somewhere he could rest after long days of slaughtering demons such as this one.

The Adeptus turned the door handle, opening the door of an empty, pristine room. While the room had all of the furniture the other Inn rooms had, it still felt unnervingly empty, without any clothes or trinkets laying around. The only personal object of Xiao’s in the room was an orange teapot that rested on the nightstand.

Quickly, Xiao opened the tea pot’s lid, and within seconds he was standing in front of a Liyue style mansion, surrounded by mountains that he crafted to look like the ones from when the two of you had met all those centuries ago. Eager to see you, Xiao ignored Tubby’s greetings and opened the front door, making quick work of taking off his shoes before climbing the stairs to the second floor, where your room was.

He opened the door to find you sat atop your bed, alert and glaring at him fiercely. The Adeptus rolled his amber eyes, it seemed you were still trying to act out and be defiant. Looking around your room, mostly to make sure you hadn’t tried to smash the windows with the desk chair like last time (you seemed to not comprehend the fact that there was no escaping the serenetea pot, since it was a world Xiao himself had created), his eyes settled on the plate of bamboo shoot soup he’d left for you this morning, along with a still filled to the brim cup of water. He narrowed his eyes at that. It simply wouldn’t do. You’d been here for about a week now and you still refused to eat or drink anything he brought you, except for a few nibbles and sips he’d managed to threaten coax out of you. Xiao, admittedly, didn’t know very much about humans, but he did know they needed to eat and drink to stay alive. He’d learned that the hard way on his last few tries.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Xiao inquired before adding, “If you don’t like this food you should come out and say it. I can ask Smiley Yanxiao for something that suits your taste more.”

You let out a poorly suppressed scoff. This nut-job didn’t seem to get that out of all the things wrong in this situation, the last thing you were concerned about was the food. Dear Archons, just what is wrong with this man? First, he had the gall of taking you captive one evening when you were going home from work and now he had the audacity to expect you to act like a complacent little toy and go along with this insanity?

And to think that when you’d first met him whilst accompanying the Traveler and Paimon, who had been commissioned by Director Hu Tao to gather some cor lapis for a client’s ceremony, you’d been absolutely smitten with the awkward and stoic Adeptus. Everything from his pretty black hair to his captivating bright eyes had your knees weak. So much so that you’d ignored all of the red flags, like how he’d stare at you in such an intense manner, with eyes fixated on you and only you, how he seemed to distrust Aether, a trusted friend of his, when it came to him accompanying you, or how as soon as you’d met you had the horrible sensation of being watched at all times of the day. Just thinking back to all the warning signs you’d missed made your skin crawl. Perhaps if you hadn’t been such a lovesick idiot you’d be at home right now or eating dinner with Chongyun and Xingqiu, trying out one of Xianglings crazy concoctions containing slime condensate or whopper flower nectar.

Instead, you were trapped in an artificial world, in a room that looked horrifyingly similar to your own back home.

You were snapped out of your reverie by Xiao moving closer to your bed.

“Let me go home,” you said, hating how your voice cracked at the end. You felt so pathetic, you always prided yourself on being a headstrong independent person, and here you were, cowering at his closeness and avoiding all eye contact, as if looking at his pain filled eyes would ruin you.

“You are home,” he retorted, his voice bordering on delusion, “This is your home. This is where you're safe. Where you stay alive and I get to keep you forever.”

Xiao stretched out his arm, as if to cradle your cheek in his hand but before he got to you flinched away, backing away from him as far as you could, back hitting the headboard. You looked away, trying to ignore how guilty the pain that flashed through his eyes made you feel. You shouldn’t be the one feeling guilty. He should be. He’s the one that stole you away from your home. He’s the one that ruined your life.

You look down at the violetgrass broach clasped onto your blouse in nothing short of complete and utter loathing. You’d been so captivated by it when you’d first found it at the antique shop while window shopping with Mr. Zhongli.

It had been exactly six months since you’d moved away from your home in the sleepy Qingce Village in exchange for a job at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor and a quaint apparently in the bustling city of Liyue Harbor. To celebrate, your coworker (and the person you had been shadowing in order to learn the ropes of the funeral business) Mr. Zhongli had insisted on going to Third-Round Knockout for some dinner. You’d been a bit hesitant at first, mostly because you knew well of the elegant gentleman’s habit of forgetting his wallet, but you enjoyed hearing his stories far too much to say no. Something about his retellings of stories about the Adepti just enraptured you.

Afterward, the two of you had decided to walk around the city and look at the displays in shops, since you had decided that your hard work warranted splurging a little as a reward of sorts. You had of course asked Mr. Zhongli to join you since he had such exquisite taste and an eye for the authentic, you valued his opinion greatly.

That’s how the two of you ended up at Xigu Antiques, browsing the display case. All of a sudden, your eyes zeroed in on a broach that resembles a little violetgrass plant, its downturned leaves made up of what you could only guess was noctilucous jade. It was, for lack of a better word, stunning.

“Mr. Zhongli,” you exclaimed, tugging at his sleeve to call his attention away from a porcelain teapot with gold little geo symbols as decoration, “what do you think of this one? It’s quite beautiful isn’t it?”

The dark-haired man looked at the broach you were pointing at before going tense, a small gasp escaping him as his beautiful amber eyes widened slightly. You looked at him in concern, you’d never seen the man come this close to losing his composure.

“Oh,” he said, clearing his throat, “is this the one you’re thinking of purchasing? I’d advise against it. Even by just a mere glance, I can tell it is not made of real noctilucous jade.”

Strangely, you felt as though he wasn’t being truthful with you.

“Well, that’s alright. I don’t really care about the authenticity and it’s pretty cheap. If it is a fake, I don’t really have much to lose. Plus, I’ve always loved violetgrass. This broach could be like a little homage to that!” You answered, letting out a little giggle.

“You’ve heard of the Vigilant Yaksha and the violetgrass maiden, am I correct?” He asked.

“Oh, yes I have! My Gran used to tell it to me and the rest of the village children back when I was young. It always made me so sad, how they can never be together. It was pretty silly now that I think about it, but I would bawl my eyes out every time. The rest of the kids would tease me a bit but I just couldn’t control it,” you reminisced.

“I- well, yes in any case, they say that anyone who possesses that broach will be cursed to meet the same fate,” Zhongli added, trying his best to dissuade you from buying the old broach, dread creeping into his stomach as he thought of what might happen to you- to the both of you.

“Of course you’d believe old supersticiones, Mr. Zhongli,” you said, letting out a lighthearted laugh that could make any heart, even one of stone, melt, “it’s very on brand! However, I’m sure there’s no need to be worried, after all, it’s nothing but an old myth! And even if it is real, you yourself said that it’s not made of the real stuff.”

Before Zhongli could figure a way to change the unchangeable, you had already purchased the broach. As you kept on leading the funeral consultant around the streets of Liyue Harbor, bag in hand, prattling on about anything and everything, he couldn’t help but feel his heart sink. A single thought, the same one you would later have, crossed his mind.

If only you hadn’t bought that goddamned broach.

In a fit of anger and desperation, you ripped the detested broach off of your shirt, throwing it at Xiao. You hoped it would somehow break into millions of tiny pieces.

After a beat of silence, Xiao spoke, “Eat.”

“No,” you yelled, before breaking down into a fit of angry sob, “I hate you!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, Xiao lurched forward so close your noses were almost touching, and for a second you think he’s gonna hit you but instead, he simply rests his forehead on yours and closes his eyes. When he pulls away, your sobs have waned into hiccups. Without saying so much as a word Xiao clasps the violetgrass broach onto your shirt, where it belongs.

“Eat,” is all he says, placing the now lukewarm soup into your hands.

Scared, tired, and sad, you do as he said, taking small sips of the admittedly tasty dish. He does nothing more than stare at her with those intense amber eyes of his for a few minutes before turning around and heading towards the door.

Before he leaves he turns his head back to look at her and says, “I don’t care if you don’t like me. Hate me for all I care. As long as you stay alive I don’t care.”

#Xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao x y/n #genshin impact Xiao x reader #yan! Xiao x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact fanfiction #Xiao #genshin impact #tw: yandere #flavor: xiao #patt’s creations

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thunderheadfred · 3 years

Text

🦈Kirishima HC’s🦈

Absolutely no one asked for this i just like him a lot

He’s an adult in all of these. 20s-30s at least. Some NSFW because I’m a big perv. Minors do not interact. Shoo.

- - - - -

General:

He is in the dictionary under Himbo, right next to Kronk.

Works part-time as a fitness instructor before making a name for himself as a pro hero. Most of his clients are middle-aged women, because he makes people feel safe. Before long, word gets around and he amasses this like. Loyal army of jacked housewives and older ladies who are his biggest possible fans. They mother-hen him like crazy.

Has a large and complicated extended family. Lots of cousins. You will never learn all their names, don’t even try. I have no idea if his parents have canon occupations but no matter what Horikoshi says, they actually own a mountain onsen. Kirishima went to the city by himself to go to middle/high school, his family is all off in the country somewhere and he gets homesick a lot but never admits it. He’s broke for a long time even after making it as a pro hero, because he sends most of his money back home.

He’s a dog dad. You cannot, WILL not convince me otherwise. Big dogs. Small dogs. Fancy dogs. Ugly dogs. He has a whole pack. He calls them all baby, sweetie, pupper, the worst and most embarrassing baby talk. Tells them about his day. All of his furniture is wrecked. He’s an active member in online dog groups, where he is careful to use a pseudonym and never show his face, but eventually people are going to figure out that Red Riot’s dogs look an awful lot like this one user’s....

He’s in a casual taiko group, always on the o-daiko. Loves participating in festivals and parades. He has never, ever, not once, worn a shirt while drumming. Probably has been gifted at least one antique taiko drum for his hero work, and he keeps it in his house but is too afraid to play it because it’s scary valuable “uhh it’s definitely haunted”

Regularly goes out drinking. Socially and responsibly, like clockwork, always with the same people. He’s a goddamned lightweight, and no one understands why. Will mope if he has to miss a night out at the izakaya.

So he’s clean, but sloppy. House looks like a tornado ripped through it, and nothing he owns matches. Not a single thing. I mentioned the dogs.

Will absolutely use “manly” as a replacement for “awesome,” and will constantly tell you how manly you are. Your actual gender is a non-issue. If you hang out with him for more than five minutes you’re manly as hell now.

He cries a lot? Sometimes it’s for show but he gets genuinely misty-eyed over the dumbest things. Do NOT show him pictures of puppies.

He’s good at braiding hair. His or yours. When his hair isn’t hardened, he likes doing all kinds of wacky stuff with it. He usually keeps it long enough for braids, ponies, buns, quirk-assisted faux-hawks, whatever. Mina has given him many bad ideas. He will definitely steal your hair bands and accessories, if you use them.

His fridge is just like, meat and beer. He will, if forced, consume perhaps one single vegetable. Unfortunately, his B.O. reflects this. God bless him - he showers and bathes daily, because he works out a lot and is just generally hygienic. But don’t ever touch his socks barehanded.

He wears the cheapest, most predictable cologne you can imagine, the kind that comes in an aerosol can and punches a hole in the ozone every time he sprays his pits. It smells stupidly good on him. How. so fucking manly. you kind of hate him for getting away with it.

- - - - -

And now, the 🌶 Spicy Ones 🌶

Does not date or hook up much; wants a serious relationship.

Has a tough time getting dates, weirdly. He’s still secretly insecure, but mostly he’s got rocks for brains and never knows how to flirt. He ends up friendzoning most of the people interested in him, because he is, in fact, a little too chivalrous for his own good and can never make the first move. He’s an emotional open book, but clueless romantically. I recommend being extremely straightforward. Draw him a map if you have to.

Is afraid to kiss you too deeply because of the teeth. Will take a lot of gentle encouragement to get him comfortable, but once he knows you’re safe, he’s going to be kissing you all the time. Like, too much. People are gawking, Kiri, for God’s sake.

He radiates massive doses of husband/dad energy. Will immediately marry the hell out of you. If you are capable of and willing to have his children, you are going to get extremely pregnant. Very quickly. Not necessarily a breeding kink (though why not), he just really wants to start a family with you.

He’s Big. Just huge. Tall and broad, and also... his dick is a summit and you will need to prepare for the climb. He’s had problems in the past because no, not everybody wants ALL THAT inside them. That said, if you can handle it? Woof.

Hard as a rock is No Joke with this man. Can and WILL use his quirk on his dick. If you don’t think that’s the first thing he mastered as a teenager I dont know what to tell you. Ever used a glass dildo? Well buckle up cuz it’s like if a massive glass dildo whispered sweet nothings in your ear and held you close in big strong arms and fucked you till you cried. It’s a sometimes thing. Otherwise you’d simply pass away.

He loves your brains. Your smarts and wit are a huge turn on, and he gets a boner when you use a word he doesn’t know. He also loves fucking your brains completely out, so that you cant use any words at all.

He’s a devout church-going body-worshipper. He’s so jacked that’s it’s constantly intimidating, like, how dare you stand next to this chiseled statue of a man?! but whether you love power-lifting with him or would rather die than exercise, he’s gonna treat you like the prettiest fucking piece of cake on planet earth.

Size kink ahoy; he gets his big grabby mitts on you... and you psychologically lose three feet. Doesn’t matter how tall or small or fat or thin you are, you are getting groped, squeezed, and manhandled. You didn’t even know it was possible to get thrown around like that; always onto something soft.

Not dominant. Not unless you ask very, very nicely. had a brief pushy phase at the peak of his teenage manliness obsession, unconsciously trying to be more like Bakugou, but he quickly realized controlling people wasn’t really him. It certainly isn’t very manly. Doesn’t want any toxic masculinity in his love life, even as roleplay.

That said, he can and will be a soft dom, if that’s what you want. After some practice, he’d get pretty good at it too. But his natural sexual groove is goofy, a bit awkward. Usually finds a non-sexual excuse to touch you at first; prepare to get tickled a lot. If you sit in his lap it’s all over.

If you get dominant with him, even a little, he’s gonna turn to putty in your hands. Go ahead and boss that big dumb puppy around. Nothing turns him on like seeing you get exactly what you want.

You’ll have morning wood pressed up against your ass. Every damn day. He might hump and grope you in his sleep, moaning a little. Usually it just wears off. If you wake him up to fuck, he’ll have no idea what’s going on but will be like “hell yeah i guess this is happening”

Gives oral like a starving man. Has absolutely zero reservations, because he knows his tongue and hands can’t hurt you. Will be as loud and messy as possible. If you get embarrassed or shy about it, he’s going to mumble sweet talk directly into your junk until your teeth fall out.

He’s vocal in bed. Growly. A moaning groaning disaster. He says the sweetest, gentlest things... has the cleanest dirty talk you’ve ever heard, but tenderness filtered through his bourbon-barrel chest comes out all dark and rumbly, especially when he’s close. you feel his “I love you” in your bones

He thinks making his partner cum is the manliest thing he can do. Any orgasm is good, but if you cum untouched on his dick, he’ll be riding that high for days

#kirishima headcanons #kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you #gender neutral #bnha #smut #mha #kinda #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #bnha x reader #mha x reader #fred writes #avert your eyes chilren #i dont know how to tag things #kirishima eijirou

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keijislove · 3 years

Text

Happiness: Harry Potter X Muggle!Reader

Ding dong

The bell at Number Four, Privet Drive rang.

‘Boy, scurry off!’ Petunia growled at Harry; afraid he would do something to the person who was at the door.

Harry hid inside his old broom cupboard.

Even after spending two whole years at Hogwarts, and about to start his third, the Dursleys never let him come and see whoever was at their door.

It’s not like I’d stun them, Harry gloomily thought. I’ve got better things to do.

In truth, he really hadn’t.

Which is why he peeked through the small crack in the door to see who was there.

Petunia opened the door.

‘Er, yes?’ Harry heard her say.

‘Mrs. Dursley, good afternoon!’ a voice spoke.

The voice was gentle and sweet, a great variation from the Dursleys’ harsh, barking tones towards Harry.

It was the voice of a girl; one he did not know.

‘How may I help you dear?’ Petunia smiled.

‘Er, well, Dudley took my maths book yesterday, and I-I have a test coming up day after, so could you please ask him to lend it back?’ the voice asked.

‘Of course.’ Petunia smiled. ‘Come in, dear.’

That was when Harry finally saw the owner of the calming voice.

It was you.

Looking ever so beautiful and elegant with a halo of politeness surrounding you.

Petunia went upstairs to retrieve your book.

He did not know why exactly, but Harry felt like he had to talk to you.

He had to.

And if he didn’t, then the chance would be lost forever.

He walked out of the cupboard.

‘Oh!’ you exclaimed in surprise.

‘Er, sorry.’ He muttered, feeling foolish.

‘No, no... quite alright... I’m Y/N. Y/N L/N. you are?’ you asked, holding out your hand.

‘Harry. Harry Potter.’ He said, shaking your hand.

You frowned slightly. ‘Potter... I’ve heard that before... you’re Dudley’s cousin, aren’t you?’ you asked.

‘Er, yeah.’ Harry awkwardly said.

For a moment, a small flash of fear took over your face, but you tried your best to hide it.

Harry noticed it anyway.

He felt anger bubbling up inside him.

‘I don’t go to St. Brutus’ if that’s what’s scaring you.’ He said with more venom than intended.

You looked positively nonplussed. ‘Oh? Oh dear, I’m terribly sorry. It’s just that... Dudley says such awful things about you... I’d started thinking you were a mad hooligan!’

‘Dudley says a lot of things that aren’t true. For instance, he beat up a toddler and told me he’d won a boxing match.’ Harry shook his head.

You giggled slightly.

‘So... you’re his friend, then?’ Harry asked.

You looked down. ‘Uhm... well, no. I’m afraid he’s not very nice to me. I don’t think he likes me much.’

Harry felt yet another wish to strangle his cousin.

‘Why’d you lend him your book, then?’ he asked in confusion.

You sighed. ‘I didn’t. He took it from me when we were out during recess.’

‘Prat.’ Harry muttered.

When they heard Petunia’s footsteps, Harry jumped back inside the broom cupboard.

She was wiping fake tears, mumbling.

‘Diddykins, always such a gentleman. Asking for a girl’s book so politely.’ She mumbled.

You had to look away in order to roll your eyes.

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

Needless to say, you and Harry became friends since that day.

The Dursleys would always kick him out, and this used to annoy him, but now he had somewhere to go, so he used to leave without a word.

You two would meet up in the nearby playground and do one of the things Harry considered a big privilege.

You’d talk.

Nothing in particular, you’d sit on the swings and just talk.

Harry deeply wished he could tell you about Hogwarts, how Voldemort was a huge threat to his existence, but what would you think?

You’d call him mad.

You still followed the same routine.

You’d talk, everyday you’d talk and talk and one day he would leave, leave you behind, lonely.

Things however, changed quick after that.

He had just gotten home from third year, and was spending the summer there.

You had met up as usual, and he’d excitedly told you how his best friend, Ron Weasley, had invited him to stay over that Sunday for the rest of the vacation.

‘Oh... you’re leaving so soon?’ you had asked, and Harry thought he had heard the slightest bit of sadness in your voice, but that couldn’t be.

You wouldn’t be sad if he left, he wasn’t even on your priority list.

Which is what he thought.

To you, Harry was that cute boy whom you could consider one of your closest (and only) friends.

So, upon hearing that piece of news, you were jealous of this Weasley person.

No, that wouldn’t be right. You thought. He’s been at that school for three years; you’ve just met him. Why would he want to stay because of you?

You had been lonely that summer, and when Harry came back, it was unusual.

When he came back from his fourth year, he was a mess.

He’d jump at the slightest things, like a cat or a stray dog, and would hyperventilate a lot.

One day, he’d had a particularly bad panic attack.

You were on your swings, as usual, when Harry started rolling around on the floor, clutching his head.

You had gotten used to this, so you crouched next to him.

‘Ssh, Harry, breathe.’ You’d soothingly whisper. ‘Focus on your breathing, take deep breaths. Yes, that’s better, isn’t it?’

Harry was more grateful to you than he could have been.

Despite you not knowing the reason his scar hurt, you didn’t poke in further.

You left it at that and helped him whenever he needed help the most.

Your heart sank when Dudley’s gang came marching.

You hurriedly propped Harry up on the swing, before sitting down yourself.

‘Come on a date with a girlfriend, have you?’ Dudley sneered at Harry, his mates laughing loudly.

Yet another surge of anger passed through Harry’s body. ‘Beat up another ten year old, Dudley?’

‘This one deserved it.’ Dudley nonchalantly replied.

‘Five against one... that’s nice.’ Harry snapped.

Dudley’s lips curled over his teeth in a snarl. ‘At least I’m not afraid of my pillow! Don’t think I don’t hear you moaning in your sleep!’

A muscle was jumping in Harry’s jaw.

‘Leave it.’ You whispered.

‘Oh, don’t kill Cedric!’ Dudley mocked. ‘Who is Cedric, your boyfriend?’

More laughter issued as you held onto Harry tighter.

‘Mum, he’s gonna kill him!’ Dudley went on. ‘Where is your mum? Where is your mum, Potter? Is she dead? Is she dead?!’

You had released Harry; however, it was not him who went up to Dudley.

‘Pathetic!’ you snarled in his face. ‘What do you think you’re playing at, joking about his mother’s death? Absolutely pathetic!’

Dudley had given you a half smile, gesturing to his friend.

One of the boys held you and slammed you against the roundabout, making you hit your head as you groaned.

Harry jumped up and pointed his wand right at Dudley.

It was at that moment, that the skies darkened, as if a storm was ahead.

In mid-summer.

You and Harry walked home, Dudley following behind.

Suddenly, you felt cold.

Not because of the lack of warmth, but because it became really, really cold.

You heard a scream as your vision darkened.

Harry choked for air as a Dementor held him in place, desperately searching for his wand.

He saw you collapse to the floor, panting heavily.

With great effort, Harry grabbed his wand and managed to croak out.

‘EXPECTO PATRONUM!!!’

A silver stag rose out of Harry’s wand tip and fought off the Dementor holding him in place, before heading to you.

The Dementor instantly dropped you, almost scowling, which it would have done if it had no face, and glided out of the alleyway.

Dudley looked sick, but Harry didn’t care.

He rushed to your side immediately.

‘Oh my god, oh my god, cloaks.’ You whispered. ‘Cold air, c-cloaks, I saw my father die... all o-over a-again and i-it was so c-cold, all over...’

Harry shushed you, smiling understandingly at your rambling, disgusted at whoever sent those stupid Dementors to harm somebody as innocent as you.

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

‘So... he’s a wizard.’ You clarified, looking at the batty woman whose living room you were sprawled across.

‘And a ruddy good one at that, I mean, a corporeal Patronus at his age-’ she said.

‘Mrs. Figg.’ You interrupted. ‘He’s... he’s going to come back next summer, isn’t he?’

‘Of course, dear, whyever not?’ she looked at you as though you’d gone mad.

‘Those things... Dementors, as you said... were they trying to harm Harry?’ you tentatively asked.

‘Yes dear, sadly, yes.’ Mrs. Figg distractedly muttered. ‘Mundungus Fletcher, when I get my hands on that little squat again, I swear!’

You were trembling.

Something was after Harry, something terrible.

And you were in no power to help him.

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

‘Is something the matter?’ you asked, trying hard to keep a straight face.

‘Have you ever tried macaroons; I reckon they’re brilliant.’ Harry mumbled, ignoring you.

You rolled your eyes. ‘Harry.’

Sighing, Harry looked at you. ‘Hm?’

‘What’s wrong?’ you repeated.

‘Nothing.’

Lies.

‘Harry, something is very much wrong, and you know it.’ You disapprovingly said. ‘What is it?’

Harry sighed. ‘Its just... he’s growing stronger, you know. I... I fear there might be a day where I go to Hogwarts and never come back.’

Your heart sank into your stomach.

‘Its... cmon, Harry.’ You spoke. ‘We can’t... if you think like that, then, you’re not going to fight very well, are you? I’ll have you know, I am always here for you, and I have absolutely no intentions of letting whoever kills you live in peace.’

Harry chuckled at your scathing threats.

‘I’m gonna miss you, Y/N/N.’ Harry mumbled, intertwining your fingers with his.

You sighed. ‘I’ll miss you too Harry.’

More than you can imagine.

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

‘Harry Potter, open this door!’ you screamed, banging furiously, not caring it was raining and you were sopping wet.

‘Harry, I swear, I WILL BREAK THIS DOOR!’ you yelled, ripping your throat raw.

The door hesitantly opened, as a certain boy stood before you.

Choking an enormous sob, you pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

Sobbing into his shoulder, you melted into his touch.

‘Ssh Y/N, ssh.’ He mumbled soothingly.

‘Harry Potter.’ You croaked. ‘You had best returned from this war ALIVE.’

‘I’ll try Y/N/N.’ Harry whispered. ‘I’ll try.’

Your sobs were growing uncontrollable, and Harry did the only thing he could think of to shut you up.

He kissed you.

Slowly and carefully, his lips took in your own, as you melted into the kiss.

Not caring about the salty tears you could taste, you gently stroked his cheek.

When you pulled apart, you sniffed. ‘Good luck, Harry.

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

The rain beat down on your house heavily, as you sat near your window.

Something was wrong, you could sense it.

He’s alive... God, no, he’s alive, please.

Each thought, each dream, showed you endless ways Harry would be dying.

You hated it.

After many days of crying, a knock on your door made you jump.

‘Y/N!’

That voice.

That amazing voice.

Trembling, you opened the door, seeing a messy haired Harry standing there, tears painting his face.

‘My God.’ You gasped. ‘You’re alive. Oh, Harry!’

After yet-another hug, Harry came inside.

‘I reckon I should’ve made this more special.’ He said seriously. ‘But I can not wait any longer.’

You watched, confused, as Harry took your hands.

‘Y/N L/N, the moment you came into my life, I have felt nothing but pure happiness. I love you with all my heart. Will you marry me?’

You gasped, hand flying to your mouth.

Sobbing harder, you hugged him.

‘Yes.’

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #muggle #muggle reader #harry potter x muggle reader #lo #romance #angst #fluff #hp

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kiki-shortsnout · 3 years

Note

For the intimacy prompts 13, 17 & 18 with IronStrange? It just seems really cute! 😁

Hey! Thanks for the prompts! I think I got them all in this piece!! Hope you like it!

~~~

‘You ever think about taking a break?’ Warm, calloused hands crept over his eyes, obscuring the biology textbook he was reading.

‘I can take a break after exams,’ Stephen answered, trying to dislodge his roommate’s hands, craning his neck to peer over his fingers, still murmuring as he read under his breath.

‘Come on, baby, you’ve been at it for hours, I’ve been out for lunch with Rhodey, stopped off for a coffee, and you haven’t moved from that position. That can’t be good for your spine…how many times have you chewed me out about not becoming exhausted.’

‘One more hour,’ Stephen told him, still reading.

‘Stephen, seriously this-’

‘One hour, Tony, you can entertain yourself for one hour!’

The forearms resting on his shoulders went tense, hands slipping away from his face.

Damn it.

Dropping his pencil down onto his book, Stephen sighed and swiveled himself around in his chair, catching the back of Tony’s belt loops as he walked away. Tugging him back, Stephen slung his arms around Tony’s hips as he hung his head.

‘Sorry, Tones…it’s just-’

‘Your stressed, I know,’ Tony told him, encouraging his head forward onto his stomach with gentle hands. His eyes slid shut as Tony’s hands slid up into his hair, blunt nails trailing over his scalp, and then running through his hair, lightly tugging on the strands that the back of his head. Stephen pushed his head further into the warmth of his stomach, feeling himself melt at the attention.

‘One more hour, okay? then I want you to take a break and eat something,’ Tony said, curling his fingers in Stephen’s hair one last time.

‘Says the guy who keeps me awake with all his late night binges when inspiration strikes him,’ Stephen scoffed, leaning back in his chair to look up at him.

‘And you always shout at me to stop and rest, this is me returning the favor…I just phrase it in a nicer way,’ Tony grumbled, patting Stephen on the cheek before he pulled away.

Stephen turned back around in his chair, trying to refocus on his biology textbook, but his concentration was shot, and he kept rereading the same last paragraph over and over without retaining the information. He found himself listening to the sounds of his roommate moving around behind him, his lips lifting as he realized Tony was cleaning.

Tony was one of the messiest people he knew, was chaos personified, but there was a certain order to his mess that only he understood, reluctant to clean it away, and Stephen knew the only reason he was tidying up was to give him one less thing to do.

Sometimes he couldn’t quite believe how they’d gotten here, roommates by chance, boyfriends by choice. At an initial glance they appeared to be polar opposites, Tony Stark a rich kid admitted into college early for being an engineering genius, and Stephen, a poor nobody from Nebraska, desperate not to take over his family farm.

Within the initial weeks of them meeting they had been locked in some sort of silent, passive-aggressive war, neither willing to give the other the time of day, both making their shared living space a nightmare for the other. Tony waking Stephen up at all times of the night by bringing home his latest conquest, and then Stephen waking him up at an ungodly hour in retaliation by ripping open the blinds to let in the beaming sunshine.

It was only after Tony had caught him with furious tears in his eyes after a frustrating phone call with this father, that animosity between them had ceased. Tony had looked down at him huddled in his navy blue comforter, only to turn on his heel and leave the room. He’d returned half an hour later with a box of Thai Takeout, Stephen’s favorite, and sat beside him on the bed.

‘Dads are the absolute worse,’ he told him, pushing food into Stephen’s hands, waving away any protests about Stephen not having enough money.

Stephen returned to the present as he saw movement in his peripheral, his mug placed by his elbow. Tony was trying to be as inconspicuous as possible placing it down, but it still thunked loudly on his desk, some of the tea spilling over the edges. Saying nothing, Stephen picked it up by the handle, inhaling the scent of jasmine as he stretched his neck out from side to side.

Stephen couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment things had changed between them, it’d been a gradual process, going from late night talks, to Stephen watching out for the younger man when they’d been at parties, little messages left for the other on the whiteboard on the back of the door. Then, it had progressed to a few lingering touches, and then, finally after weeks of fretting about it, Stephen had kissed Tony late one night while they’d been listening to music and studying.

Taking a sip of his tea, Stephen leaned back in his chair, looking up at the wall in front of him, the few photos he’d stuck on the wall of himself and his sister, Donna. Happier memories of his childhood mixed with a few photos of when she’d come to visit him at college a few months ago. In the middle of them all was a picture of Stephen and Tony, both of them wrapped up against the cold, Tony sharing his scarf as he took the selfie, his mouth stretched wide in a grin.

This…this wasn’t going to last forever. They would, Stephen couldn’t imagine his life without Tony, not ever. They might be young, but Tony Stark was the one thing he was going to keep in his life, their future careers be damned, the expectations of their fathers. Real life would undoubtedly come with its own demands, but for now, their life was studying and hanging out with their friends.

The best time of their lives.

He shut his textbook and pushed himself away from his desk.

Stephen turned back around, taking a moment to watch Tony on the pushed together beds, taking a mental snapshot of the moment right here, right now. The room was a mash of their personalities, Stephen’s side neat and orderly, textbooks stacked with precision, pens neatly in their holder, pristine and clean, the ideal study area. Tony’s side of the room had so many posters stuck to the walls it was impossible to see the wall beneath. Clothes were strewn over his desk and chair, a Jenga tower of screwed up pieces of paper wobbled on the corner of his desk, next to the half-chewed pencils.

Honestly, how had they gotten together?

Tony glanced up from his book as Stephen got to his feet, some of the blankets piled around him slipping down to his waist as he sat straighter from where he’d been leaning against the wall.

‘I’m being quiet,’ he panicked as Stephen walked towards him, book tumbling to the bed.

‘I know, and thank you for the tea, and the cleaning up. C’mere,’ Stephen told him, lifting aside the blankets, snuggling in close.

‘You finished already?’ Tony went without protest, head on Stephen’s shoulder and arms snug about his waist.

‘No, but you’re right, I needed a break, and a Tony recharge.’

‘I can do that for you,’ Tony laughed, hooking his foot over Stephen’s knee.

They sat together on their beds, not talking, taking comfort from each other. The sounds of some of the guys playing football outside drifted in through the window, music flowed down the corridor from the room next door.

‘You ever think about the future?’ Tony asked, squeezing Stephen a bit tighter.

‘Mmm,’ Stephen made an agreeing noise, resting his cheek against the crown of Tony’s head. ‘I was just a minute ago in fact.’

‘Does it scare you?’

‘Sometimes. Exams, medical school… I’ve still got years ahead of me while you…’

‘We’ve spoken about this, I’ll wait for you to finish, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll probably have to start working for Stark Industries as soon as I’ve finished, but that doesn’t mean I’m not waiting for you to become a rich doctor so I can become a man of leisure.’ Tony yelped as Stephen kicked him under the blankets.

‘As if. You become CEO and I’ll become the man of leisure.’

‘Whatever, you’d be bored after a day of it. You were born to help people Stephen, don’t let anything stop you.’

That was one of the things Stephen loved most about Tony, how supportive he could be, his fierce and stubborn loyalty to those he called his friends.

‘Whatever happens, Tony, I want you in my life. Even if you become sick of me being on call, and I become sick of not understanding whatever engineering equation you’re trying to explain… I want to do it together, with you,’ Stephen whispered, reaching out with a hand to cover Tony’s one on his waist.

Whatever the future held, they’d meet it, together.

#writing prompt #thanks for the ask!#Fanfiction #ironstrange #college au #tony stark #Stephen Strange

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horanghaes-gaze · 3 years

Text

Got7 reaction to false lashes

Heyo~ I know that it’s been forever since I have posted anything, so I decided to post a piece of writing for you guys, I hope that you enjoy this reaction and again, I am so sorry for not posting in a while. School has just been drowning me and I haven’t had the time to post, but I am back and better than before. Please request something as it helps me write and post more. And if you do request something, please check my Things to Know page which is linked in my bio. Thank you so much, and once again, I hope you enjoy!

Jaebeom:

You had just gotten back from date night and were getting ready to go to bed. You were removing your makeup and Jaebeom was finishing up brushing his teeth. Both of you got into bed and were turning on a movie to watch before going to sleep. Snuggling up to him, you were getting comfortable before remembering that you hadn't taken off your lashes yet. Sitting up you said

"I'll be right back I have to take my lashes off,"

He looked at you with confusion written all over his face. Looking at you up and down as he tried to gather his thoughts.

"Your...your what?" he asked slowly.

"My lashes, I forgot to take them off earlier"

"They come off? Because mine don't, I love you, but you're making no sense right now" he stated.

You laugh at how he was genuinely confused. You thought that he knew they were fake since you left your lashes out numerous times before. And if he hadn't caught on from that, you thought that he'd caught on when you took him makeup shopping that one time.

"Can I take them off?" he asked in the middle of you laughing.

You nodded your head as you scooted closer to him, closing your eyes.

"Just pull gently, and slowly, but not too slow," you instructed.

He took a deep breath as his fingers touched your lashes. Exhaling, he started to pull, and when you opened your eyes, they met an amazed Jaebeom. Letting out another small laugh, you close your eyes again. He gently cupped your face with one hand, taking off the second lash with his other hand. Placing your used lashes in the palm of your hand, he said

"I didn't mess them up, so you can use them again"

Shaking your head, you got up to go throw them away. He let out a small gasp as he saw you casually toss them in the trash.

"Won't you need those again?!" he let out, worried for your lashes.

"No, I can always get new falsies, Jae," you said nonchalantly, snuggling up to him again.

"Well, I think your real lashes are better and less freaky since they don't, you know, come off," he said, kissing the top of your head and playing the movie again.

Mark:

You had gone out drinking with some friends for a girls' night out and promised to call Mark when you needed a ride home. He knew that you didn't hold your drinks well and that you would probably be wasted by the time you call. And he was right. How'd he know? Because you had called him saying

"Heyyyy, Mark! I kinda need you to maybe pick me up...yeah. And also, I have to do this now or I'll regret it if I don't, but ...Ikindofhaveareallybigcrushonyou haha. Okay, anyway, see you soon, thanks!"

He laughed after you hung up, glad that you still had a crush on him despite dating him. Grabbing his keys, he left to go pick you up before you confessed to another guy, which is something he wouldn't appreciate much. Parking the car, he made his way inside, immediately looking around to find you. He was about to text you when he got a tap on his shoulder, turning around, he saw your friend trying to keep her hold on your hand as you were trying to run away. Thanking your friend, he got a hold of you, smiling as you giggled like an excited high school girl around her crush. And then you just slumped down on him. He caught you before you hit the ground, carrying you to the car.

He woke you up after getting home, helping you get cleaned up and showered. Before he got you into the shower, he had to take your makeup off. You were being quite the handful, thrashing around as he tried to wipe the makeup you had on. He had gotten almost all of it off, only your lashes left. For some reason, you really didn't want him to take off your lashes because you moved around even more than before when he said

"I just need to take off your lashes and then you can shower,"

"No, absolutely not!" you yelled out, slipping away from him again.

He sighed and sped walk to you. The two of you wrestled each other until he finally just sat on top of you. His legs were criss-cross apple sauced on your legs as he held you in place and cupped your face, quickly pulling off your lashes before you put up more of a fight. He got up and pulled you up, too, pushing you into the shower. He walked out into the bedroom, grabbing one of his hoodies for you to wear since he knew you found them comfy, and because he thought you looked cute in them.

"I'm done," you said as you walked out in only a towel, coming over to give him a kiss. He gladly accepted and handed you the change of clothes he picked out.

"Do I have to put clothes on? We could always, you know..." you said suggestively at him.

"I like that idea a lot..." he said smiling at you.

Your eyes lit up, getting excited.

"...so keep it in mind for when you're sober," he said giving you another kiss. He laid down on the bed, waiting for you to put the clothes on.

"I don't have to be sober," you start.

"y/n, no"

Jackson:

This was the first time that you were staying over at his place and you were excited to finally get to cuddle with him to sleep for a full night. The both of you were getting ready for bed and he had offered to help you remove your makeup. You agreed and let him wipe off your makeup for you. He was doing a good job of making sure that your face got thoroughly cleaned and to be gentle as well. He was in the middle of taking off your eye makeup when suddenly he stood up and yelled

"OH MY GOSH I'M SO SORRY BUT I THINK I RIPPED YOUR LASHES OFF"

As he was asking if he had hurt you, you were laughing at how panicked and hectic he was. To make it even worse for him, you just tore off your lashes and threw them in the trash. He let out a yelp as you walked to throw them away, asking if you were insane and how you could just rip off your lashes like that.

"Jackson, they're fake, I can buy new ones, it doesn't hurt or anything," you explained.

He refused to believe you, taking your face in his hands and looking at your real eyelashes. Questions spilled out of his mouth and every single answer you gave confused him more and more.

"No, I can't do this, girl eyelashes are so weird," he finally stated, deciding to not dig further into this.

"Not really, I just stick them on with glue and take them off,"

"GLUE?!" he screamed, the look of confusion coming back on his face.

You shook your head, finally deciding to just show him.

"Here, I'll just put some lashes on you since you're so perplexed over this," you said, grabbing a pair of new lashes from your bag.

You held his face steady as you blew on the glue to make it tacky, placing the lash on his eyelid. You adjusted the lash to sit on his lid properly, making sure that it wouldn't fall off. After putting on both lashes, you turned him to the mirror, letting him see how he looked.

"So that's how lashes work," he said, finally coming to a realization.

"Yes, this is how they work, Jackson," you replied.

"Girl, I look fabulous with them though, you have to admit," he said, pretending to flip his hair.

You laughed, telling him that you needed to go to bed and that he needed to take them off. He shook his head, stating

"Are you kidding me? My eyes have never looked better than this,"

You shrugged, getting into bed simply saying that he would get no cuddles to sleep. Once he heard the words leave your mouth, he aggressively tore off the lashes and jumped into bed. He wrapped his arms around you saying

"How dare you try to take away cuddles from me,"

"It's either cuddling with me or the lashes, baby," you answered.

"It'll always be you, princess," he said, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

Jinyoung:

You and Jinyoung had just returned home from shopping and were unpacking everything. You were busy putting things away in the kitchen and he was putting things away in the bedroom and bathroom. Jinyoung was putting away the bath products you guys had bought along with leaving your makeup on the counter for you to sort out later. He was getting to the bottom of the bag and pulled out a little box with "false lashes" written on the box. Now, Jinyoung was a rational person for the most part, but right now, all he could think was: she's been wearing eyelash wigs the whole time?

He walked out into the kitchen holding the little box and went to ask you about it.

"Hey, honey, you've been wearing wigs for your eyelashes this whole time? How does that even work?" he asked, holding the box up for you to see.

You were confused as to what he was asking since you didn't know what he was talking about when he said "wigs for your eyelashes". And as you turned around and saw the box, you pieced together what he meant by "eyelash wigs", and it made you laugh a little at how he referred to them. Jinyoung stood there, watching as you slightly bent over in laughter and it made him even more worried and confused for you.

"What are you laughing at?" he finally said.

"I'm sorry, but they're not 'eyelash wigs', they're just falsies, Jinyoung" you explained.

Although it didn't help him much, since he still didn't understand what falsies were. You took the box out of his hand and walked him back into the bathroom, opting to just show him. You put some mascara on and curled your natural lashes as he watched in fascination. You then took out the falsies and trimmed them, then putting on some glue and blowing on it a bit. After putting on the lash, you showed him the before and after on each of your eyes. The way it clicked all together in his head was apparent from the face he made, his mouth forming an 'o' shape as he understood.

"So they're not wigs for my lashes, they just help my natural ones look fuller, silly," you told him.

"Well, what was I supposed to think? All the box said was 'false lashes' so I just assumed that they were like wigs"

"Alright, whatever, but since you know how these work now, you can help me take them off after a night out"

"Uh, how do you take them off?"

To answer him, you just pulled off the lash, leaving him in a worried state as he thought that you were about to pull off all of your lashes.

"You don't need them, I think you're beautiful on your own. Plus, those freak me out" he finally said, leaving you in the bathroom, who was laughing once again.

Youngjae:

You and Youngjae were going through your closet since you were about to move in together. You were packing the things in your room, and when you got to packing your clothes, it became a little fashion show of you showing him all the outfits you found and had hidden in your closet. His eyes lit up every time you walked out of the bathroom to show him, truly thinking that every single thing you tried on and showed him looked absolutely amazing on you. Granted, maybe it was more you than the clothes that made it look amazing to him, but either way, he enjoyed seeing you have fun showing him all the outfits you put on. After you tried on all the outfits and packed all of your clothes, you both laid down on your bed, basking in comfortable silence.

"I can't believe that tonight is the last night that I'll sleep in this bed," you said, interrupting the silence.

"And I can't believe that after tonight, I get to fall asleep with you in my arms every night, and wake up to your beautiful face every morning," he said, smiling and rolling over to take you into his arms.

You two stayed in that position, smiling at each other with the most love-struck gazes anyone could give to another person. Suddenly, you sat up, startling him. You then just took off your lashes as they had been annoying you the whole day. Earlier that morning, you didn't put on enough glue so the whole day, they felt like they were falling off. Since you took them off in a fast and abrupt manner, Youngjae sat there with a horrified look on his face. He had never seen someone rip off their lashes before, and here you were, ripping yours off without flinching even a bit. He sat up and cupped your face in his hands, looking over your face worriedly before checking your eyes to see that your lashes were still there. He then let go of your face, a look of confusion now painting his features as he looked at you.

"They're just false lashes, Youngjae, I didn't actually rip my lashes off," you explained.

"So...they don't hurt?" he asked.

You shook your head, "Nope, not at all, it actually feels kinda nice at the end of the day"

"Do you put them on everyday? Will I see that when we get ready in the morning and for bed?" he asked.

"Well, not every day, I usually just put some mascara on, but I put them on sometimes when I feel like it,"

"Okay, good, because I don't think I'll ever get used to that"

You laughed a bit, reassuring him that next time, you'll warn him before taking your falsies off. He took you back in his arms, hugging you with his chin resting on your head. He always loved it when you laughed, especially when he's the cause of your laughter. He wants to make sure that you can be happy as much as you can. He wanted to make you smile for as long as possible. To him, you are what makes his smile stay and why he feels like the luckiest man in the world, so all he wants to do is make sure that you know that and feel the same way.

Bambam:

You two were at the mall together, having decided to go on a shopping date. Taking the escalator upstairs, holding a couple of shopping bags, you remembered that you needed to buy some makeup and skincare. When you told Bambam that you needed to go get some things from the cosmetics store, he had no problem agreeing. In fact, throughout the whole day, the two of you mostly went to places that you needed to go to, him following you, helping you carry your bags, and giving you some fashion advice here and there. Trailing behind you as you walked into the store, he looked around, seeing some things he recognized and used on himself, along with other things he saw that confused him. One of those things was the false lashes, which is why he got a little concerned when you stopped and took a look at them. He was even more bewildered when you picked a few and turned to him.

"Which ones do you think look better?" you asked, holding up a few pairs.

"Uh, isn't that what mascara is for?" he asked back, confused.

"Well, yeah, but these just help make them look fuller is all, kind of like hair extensions"

"Oh, okay, I see, I see," he exclaimed in understanding. He didn't fully understand, but he got the basic gist of it. Looking at the ones you had held up, he picked a couple that he thought would accentuate your eyes and add to your makeup.

"Not too extravagant, but not subtle enough to be unnoticeable, good choices, Bam" you said, placing the lashes in the basket you had grabbed when entering the store.

The two of you went to go check out after you had grabbed a few more things that you needed. Of course, he refused to let you pay since you were his princess and deserved the best, in his opinion. He didn't mind paying for you at all, it's not like he couldn't afford it, but something he loved about you was how you knew fully well of that fact and still insisted on paying. He smiled a bit as the cashier handed him his card and receipt, remembering times when the two of you had fought over the bill. He took the bag, adding to the bunch that he already had, and walked with you as you left the store.

"So where to next?" he asked enthusiastically, wanting to make sure you got everything you wanted.

"Home" you answered, feeling a bit tired after the hours you spent at the mall, and just wanting to cuddle on the couch with your boyfriend.

"Then home it is" he replied with a smile, leading you outside to the car.

Yugyeom:

Yugyeom sat on the bed waiting for you as you got ready for dinner. It was a surprise fancy dinner that he planned and got a reservation for since you two didn't get to go out on dates much. You had just finished your makeup and were rushing to change into your clothes. Checking the mirror one last time, you sighed as you saw that one of your lashes had fallen off when you were changing. It was still half attached to your eyelid, but you took it off, quickly walking back into the bathroom to glue it on again. Yugyeom stayed sitting on the bed for a moment, confused at what he just saw. You did not just rip your eyelashes off, no ma'am, that's impossible. He got up and walked into the bathroom, watching as you applied glue onto the lash band. As you were placing it on your eyelid again, he spoke up.

"What are you doing...?"

"I'm just putting my lash back on, Gyeom," you answered.

"Yours come off?" he asked another question.

You chuckled, finding his curiosity adorable. "No, these are just fake ones, I can just put them on and take them off whenever I want"

Looking at him through the mirror, you could see his head tilt to the side, your answer clearly not satisfying his interest.

"But if you have real ones, then why bother putting on fake ones?"

"They help make my real ones look fuller"

"But you said that that's what mascara is for"

"It is, but these help make them really look full"

"But you look beautiful without them"

"I literally wear them every time we go out, you just don't notice"

"I don't notice because you are beautiful whether you have these thingies on or not" he answered again, this time with more determination in his tone. The two of you often did this, going back and forth with each other on the most random topics. It was one of those things that was special in your relationship with Yugyeom that you had with no one else. With him, you could talk about everything and nothing and still thoroughly enjoy the conversation, time ticking away more slowly to you when this happens, 3 hours felt like 3 minutes with him.

"We'll lose out reservation if we don't leave now," he said, breaking your chain of thoughts.

"Well, now that I have my lash back on, let's go enjoy this dinner," you say, making your way to the car, excitement evident on your face. A smile could be seen on him as he got in the car with you. But what couldn't be seen was how nervous he was the whole dinner... or the ring in his pocket.

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silkylious · 3 years

Text

Limbo (Bakugo Katsuki x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: bakugo katsuki x female reader warnings: heavy angst, eventual tiny bit of fluff at the end

omf this request is so nice i feel so bad that my writing is literally garbage in this, but thank you sm for requesting this!! <3 and im so sorry if i didn’t do your request justice (i legit hate my writing here :’))

To say the state of your relationship was unbearable would be the euphemism of the century.

Your thoughts often ran amuck, always hopelessly crawling back to that one despaired curiosity; wondering if he shared the same sentiment about your wishy-washy “friends” status as you did. He probably didn’t. That’s the seemingly unshakable brick wall that would inevitably dead-end your lovesick daydreams, each and every time. Though when his roughed-up hands linger on your skin a millisecond too long, when his steeled stare melts, hard rubies morphing into blazing lava pits, threatening to mar your very heart and soul with their scorching intensity –you’re not exactly certain you’d mind that– that’s when a flicker of something ignites within you. Hope, longing, doubt. Whatever it is, it terrifies you. Because you’re agonizingly aware of what that entails. He’s got you hook, line and sinker, but torturously he refuses to do anything with that. Almost like pulling someone in for a hug then abruptly and without explanation stopping midway, he keeps you at arm’s length. Not too far, not too close. And how that cycle destroyed you.

Katsuki was the type to jump into action and ask questions later. Except a lot of the times when these questions pertain to his own emotions, he didn’t even try to answer them, opting to shove them to the corners of his psyche, collecting dust, steadily accumulating until they become too much to ignore and he (sometimes quite literally) explodes. It’s a vicious loop that he could never break away from, he’d even come to find a sordid comfort in it. His coping mechanism was by no means healthy, far from it, but he’d grown familiar to the toxicity.

Katsuki couldn’t make heads nor tails of his feelings for you. Whenever he impulsively threw himself into the lion’s den that was your affection, caught in the moment, in the glimmer of genuine adoration in your eyes, he never came back the same. A piece of his heart would irreversibly split off and reside in the palm of your hand, he was scared that nothing would be left of it, that he wouldn’t be able to regain his bearings until it was too late. You so effortlessly juggled with his feelings, all with a single smile, it scared him that you had so much power over the fluttery sensation in his chest and yet, in the moment, it felt good. It felt so good to indulge in whatever fucky feeling was messing with his head, to let you hold him in the depths of obscurity with all prying eyes shut and what little words exchanged hushed. It felt so alleviating to feel skin on his own (for once not in battle), gentle, comforting but not coddling. It was unspoken between you that you were both more than friends. You knew it, he knew it. Neither of you ever mentioned it. What neither of you knew, however, was how far the other’s feelings ran.

But as high as your silent love made him feel, he crashed back down into the concrete when he was left to his own devices. Without your intoxicating scent, distracting touches fogging his rationality, Katsuki had all the time in the world to overthink. And overthink he did. His pride picked apart the delicate flowering in his heart, ripping it petal by petal until nothing was left but a garden of beautifully withered leaves, a condemnation to what he considered a weakness.

Katsuki was a taker by every sense of the word. Basking in your wispy adoration, only to brush you aside in favor of focusing on academics once he’d had his fill of your love. It was sickening.

Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t outright confessed to him, maybe that’s what soothed the overbearing guilt that crawled up his throat whenever he saw that dejected face of yours, the one you made because of him. If your feelings for him ran deep, surely you would have said something by now, at least that’s what he thought. Or more precisely, that’s the excuse his mind conjured up in hopes of easing his conscious, trying to convince himself that self that yes, he was hurting you, but at least he wasn’t hurting you that bad. He was infinitely aware that this doesn’t put him in any sort of moral high ground, nor does it justify his actions, but, again, it was a last-ditch effort to relieve his anguish if just by a little bit, even if he knew that excuse was bullshit.

Surely he knew, there’s no way in hell someone as hawk-eyed as him didn’t notice the tyranny he held over the porcelain pitter-pattering of your heart, didn’t notice the fleeting, love-filled glances you sent his way. This was getting ridiculous, you were starting to believe he was taking some twisted sense of pleasure from your heartache, but he wouldn’t do that, right? He didn’t derive some sick kick out of having you indefinitely under his thumb, at his beck and call… right? A few months ago, you would have answered those uncertainties with a resounding “No!” defending his cruel behavior till the bitter end. But now…

Now you weren’t so sure.

And yet you still found yourself in his dorm, on his bed. It was supposed to be another study gathering, but one thing was glaringly missing. Y’know… the gathering. Kirishima was out training and he hadn’t bothered to invite the rest of his brain-dead, self-proclaimed squad. And that’s how you found yourself alone. With your best friend and secret crush. Just dandy.

Your hands were restless. Pulling at the seams of his blanket, cracking your own fingers, picking up your pencil for a brief moment of concentration, answering one or two questions only to drop it back on the mattress again and fidget some more. Katsuki wasn’t fucking blind, and your unease was ticking him off. Though he surprisingly hadn’t said a thing about it just yet, he was clearly nearing his wit’s end. His silence didn’t prevail for much longer, the meek sigh and not so subtle glance you chanced his way being his tipping point.

“What.” It came out as a statement, a demand rather than a question. What was he demanding? He hadn’t thought of that yet, his temperamental limbs already taking the wheel and pressing on the gas without a destination in mind, just being short fused for the sake of it. Was it even his place to be making demands in this situation? Katsuki knew the answer to this one like the back of his hand, a solid no.

“What…?” You really had no idea what Bakugo was expecting with a question like that. He still had the audacity to roll his eyes.

“The hell’s got you so jumpy?”

“It’s nothing…” It was a lot more than nothing, that’s for sure.

“Don’t lie to me, (name). What the fuck is up with you?” Ah, there it is again. That look. His words were as cut-throat as ever, and his mouth was still pulled into that seemingly permanent scowl. But his eyes conveyed something that was whole worlds asunder from his harsh tone. Golden brows furrowed as they usually were, though unusually upturned just the slightest bit. You despised that look. It ensured that you’ll forever be caught in his grasp, forever there for him when he never spared you the time of day.

Your lungs constricted by a force of gorgeously wretched agony. Katsuki wasn’t fair when he bared his soul to you like this, it filled you with such fervent euphoria that torrefied its way through your being, singeing your veins with luminous infatuation. And it hurt. Because you knew he’d cage himself right up as soon as the moment of vulnerability perished.

A crystalline sheen permeated your vision. This wasn’t going to end well.

“I said it’s nothing,” Your voice raised. You hadn’t meant for the words to be as frosty as they came out, but it seemed like your subconscious was utterly done with the tedium of heartbreak he keeps putting you through.

“What is fucking wrong with you? I was literally just asking why you were being so goddamn obnoxious today and then you go and make a big fuckin’ deal out of nothing!”

“Well, maybe I’m just fucking tired of giving you everything I have and getting nothing in return, Katsuki!”

Your chest rose and fell with each scalding breath that entered your lungs. The blood through your veins was pumping. Never had you been confrontational, and your sudden outburst wasn’t exactly welcome to your system. You wanted to vomit. This was not how you wanted things to turn out, you absolutely needed to leave, distance yourself from the emotional strain he was inflicting on you.

Without taking notice of the panicked glint in the cherry red of his irises, you bolted out of the suddenly claustrophobic room, leaving Katsuki to stare at his agape door before flickering his unfocused attention to your supplies still laying on his bed.

Katsuki erupted time and time again, with you being as patient as a receiving end could ever be. It’s specifically because of your godly patience that he never considered what he would do once you erupted.

With your back sliding down your dorm room door, and little friction stopping your descent, you wondered and maybe even wished he’d call after you, come banging on your door with bristling apologies on the tip of his tongue. However, the jarring reality was very clear to you. You’d decided on that day, with your head buried in your tear-stained pillow, that these were the last tears you’d ever shed on him, that you were going to put him through the same wringing hell he’d put you through.

You were going to ignore Bakugo Katsuki’s existence just like he’d periodically ignored yours.

The following week had been bleak at best and excruciatingly bitter at its worst for the both of you. It was so strange having to adjust to the absence of the other, even if your company more often than not had been a quiet one, it was company nevertheless. The most grueling part though, was your shared friend group. They’d noticed that something was obviously awry, but since neither of you said a thing about it, they decided it would be best if they didn’t either. The awkward dead silences during lunch were still purgatory to behold. But after a few more slow paced days, the sun seemed to shine bright again. For you, that is.

You didn’t realize how much of your schedule revolved around Bakugo until he was completely out of it. How much time you spent with him, dreading him, thinking about him… him, him, him. He’d consumed your thoughts from the first sparks of dawn till the hallows of dusk. You had so much free time now that he was out of the picture, it was crazy. The more time you spent on yourself, on your hobbies, getting to know other classmates outside of your immediate friend circle, the duller the ache in your chest. Until it was but a static buzz. Yet you couldn’t deny that, with time, your fury had mellowed out, leaving behind a cold loneliness you couldn’t elude whenever your aimless stare landed on him, almost like it was drawn to him by muscle memory.

He was the exact opposite.

You’d think the throbbing within him whenever you finally gazed his way then instantaneously looked in the opposite direction would knock come modicum of sense into his stubborn head. But nope. And seeing you thrive without him only cemented what he already knew. He really was no good for you. So much so that it barely took anytime for you to readjust to the lack of him in your life, and not only did you adjust, you were the best he’s ever seen you both mentally and academically. In the first week of you ditching him completely, his bruised ego kept him for reaching out to you, but now, seeing that elated grin on your face –the one that had been gradually dwindling over the past few months– he didn’t want to take your newfound happiness away, he’d figured he’d done you more than enough harm already.

Heart heavy with reluctance, Katsuki made the decision to give up on your relationship. Deciding to wordlessly cheer you on from the sidelines and watch you bloom, flourishing into the person he robbed you of being for a chunk of your life, though whenever your spring hit, it would be without him. Until some day in the future where his pride wasn’t as suffocating, where he could genuinely, wholeheartedly repent his grievances and only hope for your forgiveness.

Kirishima never took Bakugo for a quitter, hell would freeze over before he even thought such a thing. So this was certainly a shock. What was even more shocking – and overwhelmingly concerning– was the fact that Katsuki had willingly, on his own accord confided in him, and he’d, in his own roundabout way, taken accountability for being a gigantic douche to you. As much as the redhead respected his friend’s decision to stay clear of you, he couldn’t help but wish you’d just talk to one another for once. Kirishima really was a saint, having to listen to two idiots ramble about how much they miss the other.

“Listen, man. I know you feel bad and all that, but maybe you should just talk to her? I’m sure she’d like some closure on this just as you do, even if that doesn’t mean things will go back to the way they were.” Eijirou tried to reason, praying to whatever higher being out there that Katsuki would just get the fuck over himself and communicate with you.

“Fuck no. That’s not fucking happening, shitty hair,” Kirishima rolled his eyes at the oh so affectionate nickname, thoroughly done with his best friend’s melodrama. Welp, I guess there’s only one thing left to try. He heaved internally, mentally and physically preparing himself for Bakugo’s tantrum.

“Well, you know that if you won’t talk to her, others will, right? I heard some guys saying they’re gonna ask her ou–”

“Shut the fuck up! I don’t give a rat’s ass who asks her out!” He definitely did. Eijirou hid his smile. Checkmate.

“Whatever you say, dude.”

Later that day, three distinctly powerful knocks woke you up. Needless to say, you didn’t think that night would end up with you and Katsuki staring each other down, seated on your bed at one in the morning. Words got stuck in his throat, so he just… noiselessly watched your face, as if trying to telepathically ram his constipated emotions into you, in hopes that you’d make sense of them. Obviously, that didn’t work.

“Did you come banging on my door at one in the morning just to stare at me, Bakugo? I mean I know I’m pretty but still–”

“Shuddup.” Not really the best thing to say to you after weeks of radio silence. You were about to make another salty remark, but he opened his mouth first.

“I fucked up,” The fact that he was acknowledging he was at fault was… something. But that wasn’t nearly enough to pay off the debt off turmoil he’d caused you.

“No shit.” You replied without missing a beat. The ice that tinged your words caught him off guard, but he really shouldn’t have been surprised. He sighed, knowing he’d have to strip himself of everything, including his pride (especially his pride) down to his very core, to have a go at a second chance.

And so, he did.

He poured his everything out for you to observe, without an ego film distorting his words. Syllables reeked of muted agony, he really had rid himself of anything and everything that wasn’t his deepest soul. He finally offered you himself just as you had done countless times before. Katsuki swore that his heart would –and always has been– explicitly yours, he’d roar that fact at the constellations above if you so wished him to. And while it would take a while to heal from coruscating blisters he’d inflicted, you were more than content mending and welting your heart with his.

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo angst #this is so bad :'))#i kinda gave up at the end fuck #i literally hate this so much whats wrong with my writing #is it just me or does it suck idk #im going night night

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comrade-kenobi · 3 years

Text

All You Ever Wanted- Din Djarin x Reader

Dear @hellcaster901

Happy Holidays, love! Here’s your gift, I hope you like it! You get Din a little Life Day present and he doesn’t know what to say. Also for narrative purposes Grogu is chillin with his Aunt Peli.

The title is Pedro’s favorite Black Keys song...

Tags: Mostly fluff, with allusions to some spice.

Word Count: 1,582

Din held you close to his chest; close enough to feel the rapid thrum of his heart as he came down from the high of love making. Absolutely mesmerized by the gentle rise and fall of your breaths. With blissed out eyes he watched as his rough fingers ghosted up and down the soft skin of your spine, leaving delicate goosebumps in their wake.

“I love you,” he breathed, as he drank in the tender warmth of your skin against his.

“And I love you,” you smiled, then nudged his crooked nose with your own.

He replied by kissing you, soft and deep. It was easy for him to get lost in your kisses. The softness of your lips, and the way they moved against his, like that's what they were made to do. Sometimes he got so lost, he could swear he was dreaming. Before you came along he had convinced himself he was destined for a life of solitude. Wandering from planet to planet, bounty to bounty with no real place to call his own. But when he held you like this; tight to his chest-- he knew he was home.

You nipped playfully at his bottom lip and broke him out of his reverie. The smile you’d given him when he pulled away sent a flow of warmth through his entire body. Radiating out from his heart, to the tips of his fingers, and down to his toes.

“OH!” you exclaimed, as you pulled away from him abruptly. Taking the bedsheets, and all of the warmth with you. “I almost forgot!”

Din’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion as he watched you dart across the floor of The Crest to your duffle bag. The stolen sheet flowed behind you, like a ladies elegant cape, as you went. You rummaged through the sack for a moment or two. Exclaiming “AH-HA!” when you finally found whatever it was you’d been searching for.

“Happy Life Day!” you yelled, as you held a small package out for Din to see. Your eyes gleamed in the dim lights of the hull as you ran towards the nest of blankets the two of you had started calling a bed.

“Life Day?” Din asked, his eyebrows had shot so high they nearly disappeared under the shaggy brown curls plastered to his sweaty forehead.

“It’s a Wookie tradition. Like a holiday.” You explained as you gestured wildly, the gift still held tightly in your hands. It’s contents clanged around in the small box.

“Since when are you a Wookie, riduur?” Din chuckled, he had been with you for a while now, and even a year into marriage you still managed to surprise him. “You’re not nearly hairy enough.”

“Shut up,” you replied; and swatted at his chest with the ghost of a smirk threatening to spread across your face. “My best friend in the rebellion was a Wookie. Now do you want the present, or not?”

“Of course I do.” He replied as tried, in vain, to still the laugh in his chest, and force a serious expression.

“That’s what I thought.” You sassed as you crawled into his waiting lap. With your chest puffed out with pride, you waved the small box in Din’s face. Tempting him to grab it. But when he reached for it you pulled it away with a frown.

“Kiss me first.” You insisted, as your lips pulled into a childish pout. Din rolled his eyes but happily obliged.

“Thank you” you beamed, appreciatively running your thumb over his plush lips when he pulled away.

“What is it?” Din asked with a frown. He ran his fingers over the paper covering the box and admired it for a moment. The paper was plain and brown, but you’d taken the time to decorate it with tiny, hand drawn, trees. On the top it read, “For my riduur.” In what Din assumed was your fanciest script.

He went to rip off the paper and felt, almost, dirty doing it. You had clearly put a lot of effort into making it look nice, and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin that. So he carefully went along the seams, and peeled the paper off without making a single tear.

When he opened the box, he found a fancy looking vibroblade inside and what looked like some spare parts.

“What are these?” Din asked, holding up some of the cold metal pieces.

“They’re for the vibroblade,” you explained, reaching into the box that was settled between the two of you to pick the blade up. “I can mod your vambraces with them, so the vibroblade pops out of the bottom.”

“I-I, uh, don’t know what to say…” Din stuttered, not quite sure what to make of the whole thing. He’d never celebrated a holiday before, or gotten a gift. When it came to things like this, he had to admit, he was always more than a little lost.

“Look at the blade, love.” You encouraged, taking his hand in yours and carefully placing the sharp blade on his rough palm.

His calloused fingers traced over the smooth, cool, metal before he turned it over. On the other side he found his signet, a Mudhorn, carved perfectly into the side.

“Did you…?” He started, but trailed off. Utterly distracted by the pure beauty of what he held in his hand.

“I engraved it,” you finished for him, “it’s why I was so twitchy whenever you dropped into the hull this week. I wanted it to be a surprise…”

The words you spoke barely registered on Din’s radar. He was far too busy admiring his gift. No one had ever gotten him a gift before, let alone one with this much thought put into it. The blade was shined to absolute perfection, and the signet was carved in deep. Adding it to his armor was the icing on the cake. Now he could carry a part of you within his armor forever. The thought of it brought a tear to his eye.

“Do you like it?” your timid voice broke back into his thoughts. But he still couldn’t speak. How was he supposed to put how he felt about this, about you into words. So instead he dropped the vibroblade and took you into his arms. Pouring all of his unspoken feelings into a kiss.

It was fiery and sweet. His tongue hungrily swept over your bottom lip, begging you to let him in. And let him in you did, opening for him with a pleased groan, the kind that got his blood pumping, and sent shockwaves down his spine.

He tangled his hands into your hair in an effort to bring you closer to him as his tongue danced over yours. No matter how close he brought you to him it would never be enough, he always wanted to feel you closer.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You panted, pulling away so you could catch your breath. Din nodded fervently, and chased after you for another kiss. You laughed at his enthusiasm and suddenly he felt a twinge of guilt in his chest. You’d gone through all this trouble for him, and he had nothing for you.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, as if sensing the sudden change in his mood.

“I- you, you got me this perfect thing and…” he trailed off, leaning back from you and rubbing the back of his neck, “and I didn’t get you anything.”

“Din,” you took his face in your hands and forced him to meet your eye line. Instinctively he leaned into your touch, sighing at how gently you touched his face. The feel of your fingers on his cheeks easing his worries to almost nothing.

“It’s okay, I have you, and that’s enough.” You assured him, the certainty in your voice made his heart skip a beat in the best possible way. As you spoke your fingers played absently at the beskar mythosaur skull hanging from his neck, and he got an idea. If he could carry a part of you with him, he wanted you to be able to do the same.

“Here,” he began, lifting the worn leather cord from his neck, and placing it around yours. “I want you to have it.”

“Din,” you started, emotions welling up in your throat, “you don’t have too…”

“I know.” Din cut you off, running the rough pad of his finger along your chest, admiring the way the necklace looked on you. “I want to. I want you to have a piece of me, just as I have a piece of you.”

“Mhi solus tome, Mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” You whispered, in near perfect Mando’a and Din’s heart soared.

“We are one when together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors.” Din repeated in basic as the tears that rimmed his eyes threatened to fall.

“Happy Life Day, Riduur.” You said, pressing your forehead to his in a keldabe kiss, just as you would before you were married.

“Happy Life Day, Cyar’ika.” Din replied, closing his eyes as he soaked in the moment; your wedding vows still buzzing around in his head. If there was one thing in his life he was absolutely certain of, it was you. And he was never letting you go. This would be the first of many Life Day’s together, and next year he would make sure he bought you a gift.

#pedros12daysofchristmas #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #Pedro Pascal #din djarin x you #din djarin fic

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inkykeiji · 3 years

Note

i've been going through your bnha works and have had this in my head for literal days now and wanted to share. while touya-nii is out of town, you get deliriously feverishly sick. he'll be back asap but asks keigo to check on you, who of course obliges. and sweet keigo, he just wants to help you feel better, baby, and you're really not well, so he'll just use his tongue, or so he tells himself at first, maaaybe just the tip anywayy i adore your writing and hope you are well! ty for all you do!

oh my GOSH i love this ask so much aaaaah THANK U for sharing!!! n thank u bb i hope u are well, too <33

❅ CW: implied pseudo-incest, implied yakuza!touya, dubcon/noncon, cheating

❅ words: 2.2k

He’s away on business when it happens.

“Touya-nii,” you whine weakly, voice staticky through the speaker, and his heart drops. “Touya-nii I—My h-head, it hurts,”

You rarely get sick; Touya makes sure of that, keeps you in good health just like all niichans are supposed to do, forces you to eat all your fruits and veggies and ensures that you get an adequate amount of physical activity. So you shouldn’t be sick. You shouldn’t.

But you are. And he’s miles away, stuck in some dingy motel room with cigarette burns on the matted carpet, aggressively tugging his fingers through his hair as he wracks his mind for some sort of solution.

For a brief, fleeting second, he considers leaving, envisions himself throwing all of his shit haphazardly into his leather suitcase and peeling out of the cracked parking lot, tires squealing and car thrumming as he races towards you.

But he knows he can’t, knows that’s an automatic death sentence for him, knows he’s stuck here for at least another day, which is much too long for his precious baby sister to be sick on her own.

His fingers tremble a little as he scrolls through his contacts, thumb slamming down on Keigo’s name. He picks up on the second ring, Touya’s molars grinding together at his trademark easygoing drawl.

“Listen, I have a favour to ask of you…”

—

“You really are sick as a dog,” Keigo’s saying with a frown, perched on the edge of your bed and looking down at the thermometer beeping in his hand, a glowing 103.5 staring back at him.

“H-Hurts, Kei,” you whimper, trying to shuffle closer to him, body wrapped in a cocoon of sheets. Sympathetic golden eyes gaze down at you, a palm coming to pet your sweaty head, lips turned down as he sighs through his nose.

“I know, songbird,” he murmurs softly, knuckles caressing your cheek. “First, though, we gotta unravel you from these blankets! They’re doing nothing good for your fever, sweetheart,”

And, really, it’d be hard to miss the sharp intake of breath he sucks in through his teeth the moment he finally frees your clammy body, clad in a skimpy little tank top and a pair of sleep shorts, drenched in sweat and sticking to your skin.

“Christ,” he breathes, honey eyes scanning you slowly, choking back a soft sound when his gaze lands on your chest, nipples perking up through the thin material and your body breaking out into goosebumps the moment the cool air of your bedroom hits your damp, heated skin.

“Well that just isn’t fair,” he mutters with a crooked smirk, eyes darting to yours quickly before drifting back to your body again. You hum in question—or maybe that’s a whine of pain, he isn’t sure, he doesn’t care—and he chuckles. “You’re not allowed to look this fucking hot being as sick as you are,”

He’s nearly positive Touya wouldn’t have called him had he known the way you were dressed, snickering to himself at the thought. No, Touya would’ve bit the bullet and called your parents instead, who are much more equipped to handle such a sickness than Keigo is either way. Oh well, he shrugs to himself with a little nonchalant hum—he can’t be held accountable for his actions now, not when you’re dressed like that, chest rising and falling rapidly with your shallow little breaths, whimpering and tossing a little in the sheets.

“Oh baby,” he coos, pushing sweaty hair away from your forehead. “Oh, you poor thing,”

“M-Make it go away Kei, make it go a-away,” there are tears collecting in your eyes now as your little hands paw at his hoodie, and Keigo’s frown deepens—you must really be in a lot of pain. Almost enough to stop the words that leave his mouth next.

“You want me to make you feel better, baby?”

Almost.

A sharp whine gets caught in your throat as you nod, movements slow and lethargic. Please, your begging him in a whimper, fingers curling in the cotton as you weakly try to pull him closer. Please make me feel better!

“Yeah?” he murmurs, the word just a huff of breath as his hands travel up the sides of your torso, nimble fingers idly playing with the spaghetti straps of your tank top. One more nod, and his fingers are hooking in the waistband of your tiny shorts, your forehead crinkling in confusion as you press your thighs together.

You mumble something that sounds vaguely like his name—aw, that fever must really be getting to you, now—and he coos mockingly, gold eyes flicking up to meet yours, fingers still tucked in your waistband, wiggling a little.

“You wanted me to make you feel better, right?”

Blinking twice at him, your head tilts to the side a little, eyes narrowing as you try to recall the words that were spoken merely a few minutes ago. You don’t know, you can’t remember, you think so, but…

It’ll make you feel better, he says. He’ll be gentle, he promises, soft hands tugging baby pink shorts down your legs, knuckles caressing your skin as they go. He’s never lied to you before, has he?

No, you suppose he hasn’t, shaking your pounding head a little as he pushes your knees open, revealing your bare cunt to him.

A hushed curse falls from his lips as he gazes at you. If you were in the right state of mind, you’d feel dirty, overexposed and self-conscious—but all you can do is whimper, staring at him through glassy, lidded eyes.

Just a taste, he promises to himself as his hands skim down your inner thighs, pushing them open more before his upper body languidly settles between them, whining quietly as he drags the tip of his nose across your hips, all the way from one side to the other, placing tender kisses against where each bone would be.

“You’re gorgeous,” he breathes, breath hot against your cunt as he adjusts himself to be eyelevel with it.

You don’t respond, can’t respond, because his tongue is flattening itself against you the moment he’s finished speaking, slowly dragging up your slit in long, rough laps and keeping his eyes on your face the entire time.

He’s determined to get you off with his tongue alone, already reveling in the tiny sounds he’s pulling from you, soft puffs of his name interspersed with broken little moans. It swirls around your little hole, prodding it with the tip before working the muscle into you. He thrusts it a few times—only enough to be teasing, really, to stretch you out just a little, before he goes back to your clit, empty hole fluttering in disappointment.

Using the tip of his tongue, he flicks your already swollen clit, slowly, and then fast, too fast, your back uncontrollably arching off the mattress as you push your hips towards his face. He chuckles against you, vibrations shooting up your spine, as strong arms wrap around your thighs, hands curling around your hips as he steadies them.

It’s over pathetically quickly, you creaming all over his tongue as he moans at the taste, one hand weakly tangled in his hair and holding his head in place as you buck against his face. He allows you to grind against him, grip on your hips loosening up a little, waits for your body to go boneless again before pulling back and sitting on his heels, dragging his forearm across his gleaming chin. You’re at him like he’s some sort of god, face full of bliss and absolutely fucked out, and he can’t stop the words that tumble from his lips next.

“You want more?” he breathes, golden eyes shining in the dim light, tongue tracing his lips as he licks away the remnants of your orgasm. “Huh?” he looks down at his cock, straining against his grey sweatpants, then meets your eyes again. “Just the tip, babygirl?”

A low whine slips from between your lips, head nodding lethargically before glowing, vibrant sapphire flashes through your mind, deep voice rumbling somewhere in the recesses of your skull, words jumbled and unintelligible.

“But…” you trail off, blinking your bleary eyes, eyebrows knitting together in confusion as you try to string the words together. “Touya-nii?”

“What Touya-nii doesn’t know won’t hurt him, now will it, songbird?”

His voice is so soft, so sweet as gentle fingers trace along your hairline, pushing little strands back from your forehead, and you shake your head a little. You guess it won’t. You want to tell Keigo that Touya always knows, though, that Touya somehow always finds out, but then he’s pushing the head of his cock into your little hole, groaning a little as you stretch around him, and your mind goes completely blank, filled with nothing but thoughts of how thick he is, how it feels like he’s splitting you open as he sinks into you, inch by inch, honey eyes mesmerized by the way your cunt greedily sucks him in, gaze glued between your bodies.

What happened to ‘just the tip’? The question buzzes around in your head, doing nothing to help the ache that’s settled deep within your skull, those six words smashed to pieces the moment Keigo draws his hips back only to slam into you again.

A loud cry rips from your throat—it stings, but Keigo doesn’t seem to care, abandoning all caution as his hips set a rough, brutal pace.

And you’re too weak to do anything but take it, letting Keigo manhandle your limp body into whatever twisted position he wants to, pushing your knees up to your chest and then pressing them together, forcing your lower body to twist onto your side as your back stays flat against the mattress.

It feels good though, that burning pain mixing with intense pleasure as Keigo angles his hips just right. A heavy sigh slips from between your lips as your eyes fall shut, pliant body practically melting into the damp sheets.

You think you’re saying his name, though you can’t be sure—you’re definitely saying something, lips moving and voice vibrating in your chest, though your words sound muffled, like someone’s stuffed your ears full of cotton, and you can’t decipher them.

Keigo’s speaking too, body draped over yours as his hips snap viciously, lips against your earlobe.

“What would your precious niichan say if he could see how much of a slut you’re being, hmm?” Keigo hums in your ear, voice sweet as honey, smooth and syrupy. “While sick, no less,” he tuts his tongue, as if he wasn’t the one who instigated this whole thing.

Whimpers spill from your lips as you try to shake your head, wincing at your stiff neck and the spears of pain shooting through your brain at the simple motion. No, you want to protest, bottom lip automatically jutting out into a pout. You’re a good girl for your niichan, really, you are!

“Bet he’d be disappointed to—f-fuck—to find out how much of a little whore his baby sister really is,” he growls, spitting out the words harshly between deep grunts. You try to shake your head again, whining as the familiar sting of tears prick your eyes.

And it’s so much, it’s too much, the way he’s pounding into you, cockhead nudging against your cervix each and every time and sending shooting pain radiating throughout your lower abdomen, then dragging against that one spot that makes your entire body feel like it’s on fire, over and over and over again as his mean words cut into your flesh, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes while your hazy mind tries to knit some sort of rebuttal together, and everything feels like it’s about to—

Your thoughts cut off with a sharp gasp that fades into a low moan, eyes rolling back in your head as your pussy pulses around him.

He’s praising you now, but you can’t hear him—can barely see him, having immense trouble keeping your heavy eyelids open, your vision fading in and out of focus, darkening around the edges. It only takes three more quick pumps of his hips before he’s stilling, cock throbbing as it spurts load after load of hot cum inside of you.

Keigo collapses on top of you for a moment, heaving chest pressed against yours, but your pitiful wheezing is enough to remind him how sick you actually are, and he gathers enough strength to push himself up, sitting back on his heels again. Lidded honey eyes snap open the minute his gaze connects with yours, a gasp falling from his lips.

Oh no. You’re really not looking good now, babbling deliriously, all of the colour faded from your skin, from your entire body, lips dry and cracked, sweat beading along your hairline. Keigo presses the back of his hand to your clammy forehead, hissing when he feels how hot you are and shoving the thermometer in your mouth.

“Keep it in there,” he instructs sternly when you make a face, getting ready to spit it out, golden eyes watching you sternly as his fingers tangle together, anxiously awaiting that obnoxious beep. He snatches the tool from your mouth the moment it goes off, trembling hands bringing it close to his face, eyes squinting a little as he reads it.

104.2°

“Shit,”

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