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tommybowefuneralattendee · 7 months

Text

do not open before christmas

shaymien || 6.3k || rating: E || find it on ao3 written for the smoshblr valentine exchange!

summary:

You know what? Typically, Damien's all about accountability and taking responsibility for your actions, but maybe just this once, there's an exception. Sure, he'd been the one to ask if Shayne wanted to take a little while longer off work and drive home for Christmas this year, and sure, doing the long stretch and going to his parents' place first and getting hotels on the way was also his idea, but Shayne agreed. That was the biggest surprise, maybe. Maybe that was it. He never expected to get this far and now he's unprepared for the consequences of his actions. The consequences of his actions being that, as he pushes the door of their hotel room open, he sees it. A single bed. Queen size, big fluffy white pillows and plain bedspread, the comforter a calming green. Only one. Shit. || Or, road tripping home with Shayne leads to more than Damien previously accounted for.

You know what? Typically, Damien's all about accountability and taking responsibility for your actions, but maybe just this once, there's an exception. Sure, he'd been the one to ask if Shayne wanted to take a little while longer off work and drive home for Christmas this year, and sure, doing the long stretch and going to his parents' place first and getting hotels on the way was also his idea, but Shayne agreed. That was the biggest surprise, maybe. Maybe that was it. He never expected to get this far and now he's unprepared for the consequences of his actions. The consequences of his actions being that, as he pushes the door of their hotel room open, he sees it. A single bed. Queen size, big fluffy white pillows and plain bedspread, the comforter a calming green. Only one. Shit. He had just told front desk they needed a room, hadn't they? No specifications on the amount of beds. This one, this is definitely Damien's fault.

"Hey man, what's the holdup?" Shayne asks from behind him, not unkindly. He puts his hand on the small of Damien's back, guiding him forward and past the threshold easily; it's not like Damien resists. He's just not sure what he's supposed to do in this situation. He doesn't have a script for this.

"Houston, we have a bit of a problem," he says, looking pointedly at the bed. Shayne looks at it and then looks back at him, shrugging his shoulders with an easy grin.

"I'm not that worried about it if you're not, Dames," he says, placing his bag down on the bed. "You want the shower first or can I take it?" he asks, turning back to Damien with a raised eyebrow. Damien collects himself, all too aware of how he's still frozen in what he supposes serves the function of a foyer in a hotel room, though that's likely not what it's called. He clears his throat and closes the door, putting his key card down on the nearest flat surface, and his bag down in front of it.

"I showered this morning, it's all yours," he replies, waving Shayne off and relieved when the door closes behind him. He and Shayne have shared a bed before, not just once but almost definitely more times than Damien's ever spent sleeping in the same bed of anyone else he wasn't dating. He needs to chill the fuck out. He takes out his meds and puts them on the bedside table on the side he typically sleeps on; they've done this enough that they have sides of the bed, for fuck's sake. Going through the motions of getting ready for bed at least calms him down a little. He's not even stressed about this. He's totally fine. It's just Shayne!

He gets as far as that, as far as It's just Shayne, right before Shayne comes out of the bathroom, towel around his hips. He finds himself freezing once again.

"Forget something, bud?" he asks, voice pitchy. Shayne snorts.

"Yeah, I guess I did. Got caught up in the road trip ick and completely forgot I'd need clothes, I guess," he says, grabbing his bag but not yet looking away from Damien and going back to the bathroom to get dressed. The opportunity for comedic flirtation is too egregious to give up.

"I mean..." Damien says, giving Shayne an over the top once-over. He doesn't actually let his gaze linger as long as perhaps he'd like it to; he has some semblance of self control. Shayne raises his eyebrows at him, baiting him to continue the bit he's started. "I think need might be a strong word," he continues, committing even if he knows it's not his best idea. Joking with Shayne about this always feels like he's dancing on a knife's edge, far too close to the satisfaction of years of yearning to feel any kind of safe. Shayne, fist closed over the knot of his towel distractingly close to the V of his hips, shrugs a shoulder, following him from tang to heel to edge.

"If you wanna see me naked, you can just say, dude," he says wryly, looking Damien up and down in return. No fucking clue if this is a bit anymore. Jesus fucking Christ. Actually, fine. Sure. He has no idea how to walk this the fuck back without admitting that it's getting a little too close to home for him, so Damien does what he and Shayne do best. Follow each other off the deep end.

"Okay," Damien says. Shayne tilts his head, still with that teasing smile and his raised eyebrows and his pretty eyes, the shine of his still-wet chest. He's so beautiful it nearly hurts to look at him. "I wanna see you naked." Damien meant to say it jokingly at first, but that's not how it comes out. Shayne blinks at him, clearly not expecting Damien to commit that hard. Damien can't even blame him. He didn't expect himself to commit that hard either. He swallows, the click of his throat loud in the silent room.

"Is this a Damien tone thing or are you actually being serious right now?" Shayne asks, his guard high enough that Damien can't suss out which answer he'd be more comfortable with. Fuck.

"Honest?" he asks, hoping Shayne will just give him the fucking out for once. Shayne just nods, his breathing visibly shallow. Damien swallows. "Yeah, Shayne. I'm being serious," he says, the words more of a whisper than anything else. Shayne's bag drops to the floor and his towel follows immediately. Damien's gaze shoots to the ceiling, even in this moment of tacit permission just a bit too scared to push his luck. Shayne crosses over to him and fists his hand in Damien's shirt, pulling Damien just that little bit down to make him look at him head on. It sends Damien blinking, but it gets what was desired as well: Damien can't take his fucking eyes off of him. His eyes are so bright this close.

"You can look, Dames," he says, gaze flicking from Damien's eyes to his mouth and back again, staying on neither long. Damien takes at least a little initiative, hands careful as he cups Shayne's face between them. He leans down just that little bit more, resting their foreheads against one another, breathing in one another's air. Both of Shayne's hands are fisted in his shirt now, anchoring him close. As if there's ever been another port in this sea that Damien was sinking his anchor at.

"Tell me we're not gonna fuck this up," Damien requests, eyes closed. He can feel when Shayne moves, and he wouldn't say he's surprised when soft lips brush against his. He sucks in a breath still, overwhelmed if nothing else, before sinking into the kiss. Shayne is smiling against him and he's responsive when Damien licks into his mouth, giving back as good as he gets. A bolt of fear shocks its way through Damien. What if they fuck this up? He pulls back, resting his head against Shayne's collarbone. Shayne's fingers lace through his hair, rubbing at his scalp, holding Damien against himself. The nudity doesn't seem to bother him at all. Shayne's always been braver than him, though.

"You love me, right?" Shayne asks, to which Damien gives an immediate and almost offended affirmative. "I love you, too. And because I love you, and because you love me, and because we've made it work for our entire adult lives, I don't think this would fuck us up either. But we don't have to do anything about it today. I'll still love you just as much being what we've always been." Damien takes in a shaky breath, adrift in the idea that he might be able to have this. That he might be able to have Shayne.

"I want-" he starts, cutting himself off, and Shayne hums. A sense of ease suffuses through Damien at this tiny reminder that this is just Shayne, this is just them, this is the easiest relationship he's ever had in his life. One of his hands has dropped to the bare skin of Shayne's hip. A grin breaks across Shayne's face again as he leans up to kiss Damien briefly, hands trailing under his shirt now. His hands are big and warm on Damien's skin, solid, safe, sacred. Damien cups Shayne's jaw with his free hand, pulling him in for a firmer kiss, another kiss, more kisses still. He wants the feeling of Shayne's lips against his to feel as familiar as every other part of their relationship, though he cannot deny the novelty. Being able to finally, finally, finally touch Shayne how he wants? Fucking incredible. He can't stop his noise of protest when Shayne pulls more than their silently agreed upon few inches away, grabbing Damien's hand.

"You're way overdressed, man," he says, giving Damien a teasing smile as he sits down on the edge of the hotel room bed. Following the unspoken request, Damien takes his hand out of Shayne's, grabbing his shirt by the back of the neck to pull it off. Shayne gives him an appreciative and overt up and down look, utterly shameless. Ignoring that, Damien unbuttons his pants, about to take them off when Shayne's hands catch his. He raises an eyebrow.

"Mixed signals here, bud," he says. Shayne just rolls his eyes, but it doesn't even nearly disguise the dusting of pink across his cheeks. He drops his hands to the waistband of Damien's pants, lowering his zipper as he looks up at Damien through his lashes. Damien rests his hand on the back of Shayne's neck, stroking his thumb over the skin. He steps out of his pants and underwear as Shayne lowers them to his ankles, swallowing the immediate anxiety of nudity and tilting Shayne's face up, kissing him soft and sure. Shayne's hands anchor on his hips, pulling Damien closer as he strains up against him, determined mouth biting kisses into Damien's lips. Damien pulls away from the kiss grinning, about to say something teasing about Shayne's greediness, but greedy hands keep him close, draw him closer.

Shayne pulls Damien on top of him, flat on his back and grinning for the exposure of it. Damien crawls between his knees and doesn't even try to cloud the desire to kiss him on the mouth, dipping and taking that tempting bottom lip between his teeth. Shayne makes a desperate little noise, sweet, and Damien smiles against his mouth. He holds Shayne down against the pillows a little bit, experimenting with how much Shayne likes being held in place. When Damien pins his hand above his head, lacing their fingers, Shayne pulls back just to flash a grin at him, squeezing his fingers before arching up into another kiss. Damien's other hand rests on his jaw, this too holding him in place while he kisses Damien breathless.

"Jesus," Damien says, pulling back from the kiss to rest his head on Shayne's collarbone. Tilting Damien's head to the side with the hand not trapped beneath Damien's own, Shayne makes quick work of biting, licking and kissing his way down Damien's throat. Already overwhelmed with just a little attention from Shayne's tongue and teeth, Damien presses down into Shayne more out of a sense of self preservation than anything else. Well, and the other thing. The wanting Shayne like he'll die if he doesn't fuck him, that doesn't help either. He grabs Shayne's chin in his hand and tilts his face up, kissing the grin from his lips. Shayne submits beautifully, going pliant when Damien breaks the kiss to direct his attention elsewhere, namely in leaving a mark on the side of Shayne's neck that is going to be far too visible for holidays, but who the fuck cares? Fingers lace through his hair but don't pull, don't even hold him in place, just holding. Touching just to touch, not to direct. Damien trails kisses between Shayne's pecs, looking at him through his lashes as he takes a nipple into his mouth. Shayne arches into it, shameless. He makes the sweetest little noise when Damien bites.

"Deem," he says breathlessly, fond and affectionate even here, even now. God, Damien loves him. He lingers on Shayne's torso for perhaps a bit longer than necessary, but he keeps finding little things about Shayne he never could have known before this moment. Freckles and moles he's never seen before, scars that he doesn't know if now is the right time to ask about. He kisses each one anyway, gentle and reverent. Shayne lets him take his time, those gentle fingers still carding through Damien's hair.

"I love you," he says, kissing a small scar on Shayne's hip. Shayne laughs, not a loud thing but genuine, sweet. Damien's always been a collector, a completionist even, but wanting to collect Shayne's laughter like Pokemon cards was probably never that normal of a thing. Maybe that's just part of the possessive thing, though. He wants to know Shayne best. He wants every piece and part of him beneath his hands, studied and safe and sacred. Shayne tips his head back with the hand in his hair, not pulling but coaxing, moving to cup Damien's face. When it strokes over his mouth, Damien presses a kiss to his thumb.

"I love you too," Shayne says, his voice soft but sure. Damien kisses his hip again.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, unable to keep it to himself.

"You should fuck me," Shayne says, point blank and blunt. Damien bursts into laughter, tucking his face down to put his lips against Shayne's skin. The tension in the room goes slack, languid and liquid, and Damien fucking loves this guy.

"Dry?" he asks, sarcastic. Shayne cups the side of his jaw in one hand, tipping his face up til they can see one another more clearly. He's so good at hitting that perfect intersection of careful and comfortable, new and familiar.

"I've got lube in my bag. Condoms too, if you want." There's a dusting of pink across his nose to his cheekbones, his gaze dropping somewhere to Damien's left. Damien kisses his stomach, fluttery little pecks that make Shayne giggle, shoving his head back playfully. He catches Shayne's hand, pressing a kiss to his palm.

"Were you expecting to get lucky while we were road tripping to see our families?" he teases, kissing Shayne's knuckles. Shayne grins back at him, shrugging his shoulders.

"I wouldn't say I expected it, but hope to? Absolutely."

"Oh? Planning to hook up with a stranger if I wasn't available?" Damien asks; he thinks he's still teasing, but there's a bit of insecurity creeping in that he can't keep out of his voice. Of course they've both been with other people in the course of knowing one another. Damien just wasn't always willing to call his feelings around that jealousy. Shayne furrows his eyebrows, pulling Damien up to look each other in the face.

"You're the only person I want, Dames. Not a stranger, not a friend, not a crush, just you. Most important person in my life," he tells Damien seriously, hand cupped around the back of Damien's neck. Eyes wide, Damien flounders for a moment. If the insecurity was unexpected, the reassurance is absolutely fucking gobsmacking, as if he didn't know exactly who the fuck he was dealing with. This is Shayne. He leans down and seals their mouths together, gentle but thorough as he tries to communicate every desperate thing in his chest into this one kiss, this one moment, this one thing. "And well. I guess I was also feeling a little more confident than warranted when I packed for this trip. I talked to Courtney and Amanda after you proposed the idea of this, and they talked me up about it, and it was a whole thing." Shayne is red again as he casts his gaze away from Damien, who can't help the fact that he's staring.

"I don't think it was more than warranted," he whispers, enraptured as Shayne's eyes snap back to his.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, dude. Should have known you had this in the bag. You think I try to spend over sixty hours in a car with just anybody?" he jokes, though whether it's actually a joke is probably up for debate. He could count on one hand the people he'd be willing to spend four days straight in a car with and Shayne is probably a necessary condition for three of them. Shayne grins and leans up to kiss him, quick and sweet. Damien sinks down to meet him, killing the quickness of the kiss and instead matching him for want, for desire, for love. Shayne is straining up against him, hand on the back of Damien's neck, keeping him close, keeping him grounded. This is probably the most grounded Damien has ever felt.

"Does that mean you'll fuck me?" Shayne asks as he breaks the kiss, eyes sparkling with mirth. Damien kisses him again, just a quick little thing they're both smiling through. He cups a gentle hand around the ball of Shayne's hip, softly stroking his fingers over the skin. Another kiss. For good measure. He trails more kisses back down Shayne's throat, his collarbones, his chest. He loves how solid Shayne is, how easy it is to hold onto the bulk of him and never feel like he's going to press too hard. Reverent almost, he dips his head to kiss Shayne's stomach, careful teeth sinking into the softness there. Shayne hums a little pleased noise and laces his fingers in the back of Damien's hair, not pulling but just holding. Admittedly reluctant, Damien moves his hands to the bed and presses himself up, crossing the room quickly to rifle through Shayne's bag. They've traveled together too many times for him to be particularly delicate about it, forgoing the time he'd typically take to make sure that someone is okay with him looking through their stuff.

Again, Shayne.

It's a testament to how weirdly connected they are, maybe, how quickly Damien is able to find a four ounce bottle of lube in Shayne's entire bag. He grabs a condom as well, though they still need to discuss if they plan on using it. The idea of marking Shayne from the inside out appeals to him in a way he didn't know he was into. But again. Shayne. He's always been at least a little possessive of Shayne, sure to let everyone know that Shayne was his best friend, Shayne was here with him, Shayne was his. He crosses back over to situate himself again between Shayne's knees, kissing the inside of each one to the soundtrack of Shayne's laughter. Shayne pulls him up again, heedless of the continuation of any activity without first kissing Damien thoroughly, grinning still as he does. Damien tries to move back down and return to the task at hand, so to speak, but Shayne keeps that playful grin, giving Damien short little kisses that are terribly flustering, though Damien can't tell him that. He'd never let him live it down.

"Do you want me to fuck you or not? I'm getting mixed signals again," he says instead, smiling against Shayne's mouth. Shayne heaves a dramatic sigh and removes his hands from Damien's face and shoulder, though the one previously resting on his cheek slides to tangle careful fingers in his hair. For a moment, Damien can't make himself move, can't make himself continue, because looking away from Shayne in this moment feels like a Herculean task. Shayne's smile goes sweet and he kisses Damien again, soft, lingering.

"Yes, I want you to fuck me. Please," Shayne says, gentle mockery wrapped around that last word, and yet still it makes the bottom drop out of Damien's stomach. He wants to make Shayne beg. He presses kisses down Shayne's chest again, quicker this time, and settles comfortably in the cradle of his hips. There's heat in Shayne's eyes when he looks down at him, his hand cupping Damien's jaw again. Damien presses a kiss to his palm.

"Okay, I'm gonna- how, um- have you ever-" he starts and stops, likely blushing dark as he tries to figure out how to ask what he needs to know. How careful do I need to be here? Have you ever done this before? He doesn't know how to make that words he's saying aloud and not just words in his head. He looks up at Shayne, willing him to understand even if he can't articulate his concerns. Shayne, being Shayne, does exactly as is asked of him.

"Fingered myself a few days ago, used a toy probably a week ago," he says succinctly, sending Damien blushing and blinking as the image of that situation is painted vividly in his mind. Shayne grins, giving a huff of a laugh. Damien clears his throat, opening the lube.

"You own a toy?" he asks curiously, coating his fingers and moving them down to rub at Shayne's hole, not pushing in, not yet, but just the tease of pressure. Shayne tenses but relaxes beautifully and immediately, melting down against the hotel room sheets. He looks so fucking beautiful.

"Oh, I own several. A couple vibrators, a couple dildos, nothing special," Shayne lists off casually, his grin easy. His mouth drops open as Damien pushes a first finger in, careful if nothing else. He's so warm inside, soft around Damien's finger, and the fact that he's about to fuck his best friend hits him over the head. His dick is going to be inside of Shayne. Holy shit. He fucks him with just one finger for maybe a minute or so, perhaps somewhat overcautious knowing that this isn't Shayne's first time, but he still doesn't expect it when Shayne rocks down on his finger, a frustrated noise making its way out of his throat.

"Need something, baby boy?" Damien asks, a smile pulling at his lips. Shayne gives him a look, a flicker of mischief, and Damien knows he's being played when those big blue eyes go round and soft, but goddamn, call him a fiddle.

"More, Damien. Make me feel good," he says, that pretty mouth just a little pursed, pink lips pressed together. He adds another finger on the very next pass, earning a noise that sets him alight. He would like nothing more than to make Shayne feel good. He curls his fingers and thinks of every modicum of research he's ever done about this (he didn't really know anything about sex with other guys til he met Shayne; then someone made one too many sex jokes about them, and a guy gets curious), knowing he's found his target when he pulls a moan out of Shayne. He rocks down on Damien's fingers again, chasing the feeling. He looks so pretty. He sounds so fucking pretty. Damien rubs at that spot, ringing as many pretty noises out of Shayne as he can, adding a third finger when he feels ready. Shayne's grip on him is only growing harder as those beautiful noises get louder; they could probably wake the entire hotel if Damien did this for as long as he wants to, for as long as he'd like to see Shayne spread out on his fingers, whining and panting.

"All good, baby boy, I'm gonna give you what you want," he coaxes at a whisper as he pulls his fingers out, swallowing the whimper that falls from Shayne's lips. "I'm cool either way, condom or no condom?" Damien asks, level as anything as he holds the condom between two fingers to show it to Shayne. Shayne blinks at him for a second, reorienting himself before taking it from Damien's hand, throwing it vaguely in the direction of the bag from whence it came. Grinning and giving a quick nod, Damien pours more lube onto his fingers and coats his dick with a mostly perfunctory stroke, too aware of how quickly the sight and sound of this, the warmth of Shayne's skin, the promise here, could make the touch of his own hand more than enough to finish this before it ever gets started. He lines himself up but hesitates before pushing in, flicking his gaze up to make eye contact, an eyebrow raised.

"Fucking hell, Damien, if you don't-" Shayne starts, but Damien interrupts him with a shallow thrust of his hips, making Shayne's head fall back against the pillows. It makes Damien smile, but that goes slack quickly when he bottoms out, taking a moment to get his bearings with his dick inside of his best friend before he even tries movement. Pressure points of pain ground him, Shayne's fingertips digging into his skin, sure to bruise but so needed in this moment. He presses his face into the side of Shayne's neck, scattering kisses on his throat, his collarbones, his Adam's apple. They stay like that for a minute or so, still but connected, quiet but close. Then it seems impatience comes for Shayne after all in the form of a roll of his hips, a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. Damien chuckles, low, and pulls out about halfway, thrusting back in immediately. Shayne's little gasp, though not quite as loud as Damien would like to make him, is gratifying.

The desire to make him beg is hot in the back of his throat, staggering in its intensity. Unable to do anything but follow the hand of that impulse, Damien thrusts in again, freeing Shayne's hand to wrap both of his own around the back of Shayne's rib cage, gripping his lats to hold him in place as he works to find a rhythm.

"Bein' so good for me Shayne. Fuck, baby. You feel so fucking good," he mutters into Shayne's shoulder, holding him in such a manner that they're chest to chest, almost too close for comfort. Shayne pulls at his hair, actually getting a grip and pulling this time, using the force to move Damien up to kiss him. Damien concedes willingly, allowing Shayne's tongue in his mouth in the same second as fucking into him again, bringing moans from them both. He stays motionless in the cradle of Shayne's hips like that for some time, kissing Shayne instead of fucking him. There's something about just being inside of Shayne, the connection of it, that is just as good as the pull and friction of it all. Getting off feels very second priority when being this close to Shayne is an option. He wants to sink into this like the sea, let love wash over him and let the salt burn his eyes, let the sand abrade his skin.

Let love take him out to sea. Let love fill his lungs. Let love.

Shayne lasts an admirably long time before he starts expressing a desire for things to progress, as it were. He rolls his hips, just the barest little motion before Damien is sliding his hands down and grabbing them, pressing Shayne into the mattress to keep him still. Shayne breaks the kiss to look up at him, eyebrows furrowed, before trying it again. Damien grins at him, pulling out maybe an inch or two before fucking into Shayne again. He stills again, still grinning, and kisses Shayne. Despite pressing into the kiss, Shayne gives a little irritated noise, nails digging into Damien's obliques.

"Goddamn it, Damien. Fuck me!" Shayne says, frustration clear as he tries his damnedest to roll his hips down again despite Damien's grip on them. The desperate little movements make Damien feel fucking insane, watching Shayne want him so bad he's nearly angry with it. Holding back from fucking Shayne stupid is just as much a tease for him as it is for Shayne.

"Ask me nicely," Damien says, equal parts teasing and tentative. Relief hits like a party drug with the fire that lights in Shayne's eyes, turned on and so fucking beautiful with it.

"Please, Dame? Can you please fuck me? Make me feel good. Please," he says, sweet as he looks up at Damien, just this shade of mischief on the tip of his tongue. Damien kisses him because he can't help it, he kisses him because he can, he kisses Shayne because every time Shayne has ever looked at him with that false innocence, it's all he's ever wanted to do, and now he fucking can. Shayne smiles against his lips but doesn't break the kiss, instead just pulling Damien closer, urging him into giving him more. "Please, Damien," he says, just a little bit of real desperation lacing his words, and even so much as Damien would like to pretend he's in control right now, he can't deny Shayne when he looks like that. He's pretty and pouty and Damien is putty in his hands, going directly from still to fucking Shayne in earnest, gone with his pausing and waiting. Shayne's head falls back against the pillows and the noise he makes is music, pretty boy softness melting down into the sheets.

"So- so fucking good, Shayne. Taking me so well. Such a good boy," he lets slip. He only thinks about stopping for a split second before Shayne's making a high noise, rutting up against Damien's stomach. Grinning, Damien bites a kiss into his mouth.

"Please, Dami," Shayne whines, hitching his leg up around Damien's waist. He gets even louder when Damien hits a particular angle, one that he replicates to the best of his ability from those sweet little noises forward. He kisses his way from Shayne's jaw to his ear, pausing in biting at his throat to speak.

"What, baby? You want me to tell me how good you look taking me? How you're being such a good little slut for me? That you look so pretty on your back and whining for my dick?" he teases, dark and low and only growing in confidence as Shayne's grip on him gets more desperate. When they get back to LA, he's going to take Shayne apart right, figure out every little thing he likes and give him everything he wants. Now, he does as much as he can, sucking more marks into Shayne's shoulders, where a shirt might cover them if Shayne doesn't roughhouse with anybody for the entire trip, but that's unlikely. He's beautiful and bullheaded and begging, words spilling out of his mouth water quick and incoherent, breathless. Good boy, Damien thinks, and maybe he says it, because Shayne's catching his lips in a kiss that's more naked need than it is finesse. He can't say he terribly minds the difference. He likes Shayne like this, feeling so good he's not thinking about anything else.

Damien doesn't even realize that Shayne is reaching for his cock before he's pinning that hand down, biting Shayne's bottom lip. He presses Shayne's wrist into the sheets and moves that newly freed hand down himself, wrapping it surely around Shayne.

"Mine," he says, gratified in the way it makes Shayne shiver. Biting down on the junction of Shayne's throat and shoulder, Damien rubs his thumb over the head of Shayne's cock, gathering his pre-cum before rubbing into his slit, making him keen. His hips snap first forward then back, like he can't decide which is better, Damien's hand around him or Damien's cock inside of him. He's whining a little every time he fucking breathes, and Damien wants to swallow him whole, fuck him stupid, make him cry with it.

"Yours, Dami, please, please, please, please, please," he says, repeating the word like a mantra, but it's that first one that has Damien drilling into him, fucking into him rougher and faster. Shayne sounds so pretty when he begs, when he says he belongs to Damien, when he says Damien's name. Damien wants to keep him safe for the rest of their lives. He wants to ruin him for anyone else.

"My good boy, Shayne, so good for me, you can cum. Go ahead and cum for me, baby," he coaxes, pumping Shayne's dick faster, his grip probably just barely edging on too tight. Shayne doesn't seem to mind at all, groaning as he spills white in Damien's hand, sticky and warm. He bears down on Damien's cock in the process, and between that and his nails digging into Damien's skin again, Damien cums as well, filling Shayne right up. Shayne holds him close, arms around his shoulders and face tucked into the sweaty hollow of his throat.

"I love you," Shayne says, half broken but sure. Damien smiles loosely, lifting Shayne's head up to pepper kisses on his face, grin broadening as it sends Shayne into giggles. The laughter makes him move, though, and they're both groaning at the reminder that they haven't separated yet. Strangely enough, Damien doesn't really... want to. Separate, that is. That point of connection is still getting him, that feeling of being closer to Shayne than he's ever been before. There's something about love and consumption here, the desire to take and to be taken, but sleep is pulling at Damien's temples, and they need to clean up before they crash.

"I love you," he whispers, running his nose along Shayne's before bracing himself against the mattress, gentle as he pulls out. Shayne whines anyway, his head back against the pillows, making the column of his neck absolutely irresistible, open for the taking. Damien kisses his Adam's apple, rolling out of bed and to his feet, pausing.

"All good?" Shayne asks, reaching out to hook his first two fingers with Damien's. God, he's cute.

"We're in a hotel," Damien says, unable to make himself elaborate. He gets like this sometimes, the executive dysfunction that comes when he doesn't know exactly what to do next. Shayne hums, quietly amused but not making fun of Damien, which he can admit to being grateful for.

"Yeah, baby, I know," he says, low and fond as he smiles up at Damien. Though he appreciates the calm, Damien can't return the smile.

"Shayne, I am not physically able to clean up cum with a towel that some poor employee is going to have to wash. I can't do it," he says, stimming in wide arcs of gesticulation. Shayne gazes at him with warm affection like Damien is being adorable instead of neurotic, and it's sweet, but it doesn't help. Damien's about to continue when Shayne pulls at his fingers, grabbing back his attention.

"I have wet wipes in my bag. Tissues are in there too," he says, his voice taking on that calming steadiness that pulled Damien to him in the first place. Still, he raises an eyebrow.

"You have tissues in your bag?" he asks, though he's already crossing over to Shayne's bag to procure both. Shayne hums in the affirmative.

"Well yeah, I knew we were going on a road trip," he says. Damien waits a moment, but he does not elaborate.

"I am not connecting these dots, baby," Damien says, standing up with the wipes and tissues in hand. He wipes off his own hands before turning back to the bed. Shayne is laying back on the pillows now, looking up at Damien with a fond, sleepy gaze that makes Damien feel far more domestic than a hotel room should allow.

"You have nosebleeds, dipshit. I don't get in a car with you without tissues," Shayne deadpans, obvious in the fact that this should be obvious. He reaches for the wet wipes but even flustered, Damien bats his hand away.

"I love you," he says, climbing between Shayne's spread knees.

"Love you too," Shayne says, the last word going up in octave as Damien wipes at the cum leaking out of his hole with a tissue. Snickering, Damien follows with a wet wipe, running it along Shayne's neck, his chest, using it to wipe the sweat pooled in the dip of his hip. Shayne just lets him do his thing, smiling up at Damien and absolutely relaxed beneath him, radiating that affection that makes Damien feel like he's going to fucking explode. He does a perfunctory swipe of his own sweat, throwing away the used wipes and tissues and putting both packages back in Shayne's bag. Shayne is reaching for him when he turns back around. Damien couldn't stop his responding grin if he tried. He does not try.

"Shouldn't be surprised you're a cuddler," he comments, holding back laughter at the immediate suspicious noise he gets.

"What does that mean?" Shayne asks, falsely put upon with a barely suppressed grin. Damien rolls his eyes, climbing over him into bed but rolling onto his back, pulling Shayne to his chest. Shayne, despite his attitude, does not protest this in the slightest but rather relaxes into Damien's chest like he's always wanted to be there, like Damien could have had him like this a long time ago. No point in lingering, though.

"I mean that you're sweet, baby boy. Perfect. Mine," he mutters that last part, pressing a kiss to Shayne's hairline. Shayne sits up a little, getting onto his elbows so he can look Damien in the face.

"I am, you know. Yours, I mean," he says, swallowing thickly, his throat clicking. Damien leans up to kiss him, soft and slow. Shayne melts into him, comfortably lax again.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Damien asks, whispering soft and playful. Shayne smiles, dipping to kiss Damien again, sweet and quick like he just can't help it. He nods when he pulls back. "I'm yours too, dude. Totally gone on you. It's crazy embarrassing," Damien says, conspiratory as if this is not something everyone knows, maybe. Shayne's smile goes soft and his eyes go a little wide like this really isn't something he knew for fact, and Damien kisses him again, just to really make the point. Shayne snorts and tucks his face down against Damien's throat, huffing laughter on his neck. Damien loves him so fucking much.

"I love you," Shayne says again, quiet but sure. Damien kisses the side of his head.

"I love you too."

#shaymien #smosh fic #smoshblr valentine exchange #shayne #damien #mine #rpf #<333333333

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bungiri · 1 year

Note

Nina lore drop? 👀

i'm still thinking about her backstory and trying to connect things BUT HERE'S SOME BASIC INFO ABOUT HER 👉🏼👈🏼

nina wasn't born a werewolf. she was attacked while sneaking out with her friends in the middle of the night. her friends managed to flee and go for help, but she was left alone with the wolf.

the werewolf that turned her was a man temporarily staying in her village. he was never caught and it's assumed that she was attacked by normal wolves or coyotes despite her friends' account of that night.

more under the cut RAHHH ‼️

her life in pelican town is a lot more mundane. even 10 years later she's still trying to cope with being a werewolf, even though she's adjusted well, and she lives in an isolated cabin to avoid her secret being exposed or any wolf instincts that she hasn't fully suppressed

nina isn't a farmer, but she does grow some things in pots and raised beds. she mainly helps the shop owners out with repairs, heavy lifting, deliveries, and just any other thing they need help with. she's willing to do farm work too if you ask her, but she has to leave before it gets dark on nights when the moon is full.

she has huge scratch scars on her back and torso from the attack. she also has one on her face

nina is stoic and a woman of few words, but she's very sweet once she feels comfortable opening up. she laughs easily and desperately wants to make her friends happy. her love languages are giving gifts and acts of service :'-)

she's nervous when it comes to physical affection. she gives those half hugs at first, but she's a really good hugger once she's comfortable...it's the muscles...

the children are the ones that call her nini. some of the townspeople (haley, jodi, sam, evelyn) have picked up that nickname for her as well. she doesn't mind.

she's surprisingly good at baking, mostly bread. if you get close enough, you can sometimes smell the scent of fresh bread coming from her cabin.

nina is a member of the adventurers guild. marlon and gil like having her around and she can often be found down in the mines. she prefers clubs over swords and even uses her own hands to take some monsters out.

she's usually alone at festivals. her favorite is the moonlight jellies.

idk what else to put so feel free to ask questions if u have any 😁🤝🏼

there's a lot more that happens after she gets attacked but i'm still thinking KFBSKFJ i'll have to ramble about it to my friend or anyone who will listen

#farmer nina #sdv farmer #stardew valley farmer #my art 𓈒˚⭒#bunnymail ⸝⸝ 💌 ★#she got attacked by the yassification wolf like...why is she hot...

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ourimpavidheroine · 1 year

Note

You've said you don't do modern AUs but if you did, who would have social media? And what kind?

That's true, I usually don't. But you know what? Why the fuck not!

Of the original generation, I think Su Beifong is the ultimate Facebook Grandma. Where she is the queen of humble bragging, FOR SURE. I don't think Baatar Sr would be into social media much at all - just not really his thing. I think Pema might also have FB, where she would post sweet updates and occasional Boomer memes and DM her family. Lin would not be caught dead on social media and refuses to look at anybody else's posts. LoLo would probably belong to the same private FB group as Bumi II and Iroh II. It's probably called something rude like SEAMEN 4 U or something. Where they reminisce over past exploits and compare fire whiskey or something. Post stupid Navy memes. I think both Izumi and Kya would be on FB, but they'd be private accounts and only for the sake of seeing family pictures and sending DMs to the rest of their generation.

Tenzin would probably have official Air Nation social media with lots of useful information. Which would actually be overseen by Jinora, of course. I think poor Tenzin would be confused by social media. And avoid it as much as possible. Jinora would probably do most of the posting and all of the accounts would be very well done.

Asami doesn't have time for social media; she has a PR firm that does Future Industries social media for her. Korra probably has both Twitter (I refuse to call it you know what) and TikTok, where she is the ultimate Gen X poster, and quite popular with all age ranges. There's air guitar. There's showy displays of bending. There's hilarious interviews with spirits. Every once in awhile she gets serious, as well. She's very popular because she's the Avatar. She's pretty busy, so she's not a daily poster by any means, but is still well liked. She has matured enough that she just blocks trolls instead of debating them.

Wu has FB, Instagram, Twitter - all of which are connected and basically post the same thing. Nothing live because the man would not be caught dead without anything wholly and completely curated and photoshopped. While he does write most of his posts and takes some photos, his posts are curated by his PR firm before being published and are meant to represent the Hou-Ting family as a whole. The Pool of Golden Blooms does have social media, but it's done by his publisher. Wu does have a private FB account so he can keep up with friends and family, however.

Mako would have Whatsapp so he could get in touch with folks but that would be about it. He'll gamely watch whatever memes anyone else shows him, though. He's often included in Wu's posts and he's okay with it. As long as he isn't required to actually keep up with it.

Qi would have Insta only; no candid shots, but something incredibly stylish and cool. Fashionista account, for sure. Followed by thousands and thousands. Never responds to anyone. Please. As if they would. Scorpio.

Bolin is the KING of social media. One of those celebrity actor accounts that everyone loves. He'd be like the Mark Hamill of Avatar Social Media. Or the Neil Gaiman. He'd respond as much as he could.

Opal would be the Georgia Tennant of Twitter and Instagram. Enough said.

Nuo would have FB and Instagram. She would not post all that much, but she'd keep up with what everyone else was doing. However, she and Wu would Facetime daily. There is official Zaofu social media but that's done by the PR team.

Wing would mostly post stuff about his garden. Wei would mostly post stuff about his pro-bending. Neither of them is very regular. They are both pretty busy with their lives and are more outdoorsy dudes anyhow.

Ikki mostly does live blogging, and she's fairly popular. Sometimes Baatar Jr is in it by accident and he is HIGHLY CRANKY about it, which Ikki thinks is hilarious. Most people think he's doing it as part of a long-running joke but no. He's legit crabby. He thinks social media is the downfall of civilization and refuses to use it. (When it is pointed out to him that his Aunt thinks the same he gets real fucking pissy.)

Huan does Twitter and Insta, but only about his art. He doesn't interact.

Meelo does regular live blogging like his sister, mostly about the Southern Air Temple as well as the school for the Deaf they have there. I would imagine he would do some sort of YouTube channel to learn Sign Language. (I have a lot of headcanons about Meelo eventually coming into his own and being an amazing teacher.)

Rohan? Too busy for social media, probably, although if Jinora asked him to do something specific for Air Nation social media he would gladly help out.

Hou-Ting kids? Naoki would do occasional Instagram posts, probably. It would focus a lot on her bending/her students' bending. She wouldn't do anything with regards to the Fire Nation court - that would be done by the official Fire Nation Royal accounts. Hemadri, on the other hand, would have a very popular Twitter account. People think it's Naoki doing it, but it's actually Lady Uma, which is something only Juziya, Naoki, and Sozui know. Juziya and Sozui would be covered by the official Fire Nation Royal accounts as well.

Zhi along with San would do popular desert, bug and geology videos/blogs across social media. They'd be like the Avatar version of Shane and Ryan with some Bear Grylls thrown in. Great rapport and really fun videos that actually teach people things. Ping and Amak sometimes show up. There are many calls in the comments for Ping to take his shirt off. Ping is mortified.

Meili would not do social media often but when she did it would be about her clinic and/or charity work, never anything personal. Meili is a very private person. Tupilek would keep up social media for Bridge Clinic, and would have a private FB account to keep in touch with his family down south.

Sayuri wouldn't do social media, except for her wholly anonymous and totally secret Tumblr account, which would be full of weird fandom stuff. She'd have the shoelaces, okay?

Zu also has a private Tumblr account, also full of weird fandom stuff. Neither of them know the other one has one. When they eventually find out, they will think it is H I L A R I O U S. They still won't follow each other, however, because they both understand the importance of having their own thing to themselves.

Orchid would be a social media QUEEN. Mommy blogger. Business woman blogger. Come see gorgeous Zaofu blogger. Beauty tips blogger. Sponsored blogger. Absolutely. Iris? No time, could not care less. Rose? Oh god no. She'd have a sophisticated website for her jewelry business but it would be done professionally, she'd have nothing to do with it. Poppy? Twitter. Where she would be known for being just savage to people who pissed her off. As would Jai, who would offend people on the regular. God help you if you attempted to troll one of them, because the other would come gunning for you.

Bu would probably blog every once in awhile, but not consistently. Pearl? No. She's as much offline as she can be.

Goba has a popular YouTube channel where he teaches Airbending meditation techniques and body strengthening exercises that anybody can use.

Katara II would have a YouTube channel about archival techniques, as well as Airbending history - which are mostly voiceovers, since she's not comfortable in front of the camera. She'd be well-known and appreciated, but more among the academic crowd. Tseten would enjoy social media, but wouldn't be consistent. A month of daily blogging and then six months of nothing while he'd be neck deep into his art.

Bhuti has one of the most popular travel blogs in the world. She'd be one of those people who would have an entire TikTok channel of her dancing with various people all over, that kind of thing. She's fun, she's engaging, she goes everywhere. Ever wanted to hear an air bison fart? Bhuti's got you covered. People love her, and she does lots of fun and spontaneous interviews as she travels as well.

#my fanfic #long post

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kirarinlovesidols · 2 years

Text

Mornings with genshin men as fathers part 4 and final.

Sumeru

Tighnari

‌Alright this was also another wild ride. Cause haha! Fennec foxes mate for life.

‌You see, Tighnari's parents have always warned him abt it. To not ever approach romance unless he was 100% serious abt it since his heart and body wouldn't be able to accept anyone else once he caught feelings™

‌So the forest ranger always seemed distant to that kind of thing and avoided the topic.

‌You can be absolutely sure it was angsty cause even if when you confessed to him he just. He rejected you. Kinda.

‌He said he liked you however his kin work differently and he didn't want to burden you. Since once his brain officially recognized you as his mate he would start getting slightly territorial and there were other things into the equation to consider.

‌You basically said: "fuck it, i don't think i'll ever love anyone else as much as i love you."

‌So here you are, 3 kids deep and married.

‌Man does it ever surprises you...how fast the night changes..../j

‌Tighnari is a great parent tho. It's almost like he was born to take care of others. His nurturing and caring but slightly firm nature makes him the best at it.

‌From a very young age he teaches them all the wonders and dangers of nature. Yes, your kids wouldn't be caught dead eating some kind of dubious mushroom or touching random animals.

‌He's very strict about that lmao.

‌But really it's very cute to see him taking care of them when they're sick or helping them with homework.

‌At morning, usually, the people in Gandharva vile abide by the invisible rule of: "Do not bother Tighnari unless you see him actually leave his house or if it's smth Collei can't handle."

‌The reasons for that is cause he wanted the other forest rangers to not depend on him as much. Collei herself also wanted to make a compromise to take some work off his back.

‌It took a while until the leader decided to abide by it, however everything has been fine so far and it gives him more time to spend with his family so the fennec isn't gonna complain.

‌You better like bland food btw. His senses are way too sharp for him to be able to handle anything that is too "spicy". So when he's in breakfast duty it's not gonna be very uh... remarkable. It's not like his food is tasteless, it's just that it's all very light and suave.

‌The kids prefer when you cook tbh but you do have to take in account how they're also fennecs so it can be overwhelming for them if you don't balance seasonings properly.

‌They're kinda clingy btw. It's not like you're complaining though! More often than not you have 3 adorable little foxes cuddling up to you to have their nap time. Sometimes Tighnari joins too.

Cyno

‌This man suffers of a very intense case of "resting bitch face". It's incredibly funny to see how his attitude changes in an entire 180 when he's around people he likes or trusts, specially your family.

‌ Ever since he learned that he was going to be a father Cyno has been slightly worried about it. What if...he ends up scaring them? Such concerns would always plague his mind, it's not like he's trying to be scary! It's just...his eyes are razor sharp and there isn't anything he can do about that. He was very much born with this face.

‌So you kinda have to reassure him. Cupping his face and slowly peppering kisses all over it you say it's going to be ok. There's no way the baby would think he's scary, it would probably be happy to see him instead.

‌Kinda made him feel better(not completely but enough to stop looking like he was about to commit a murder due to how much he's been frowning in worry).

‌The general mahamatra is essentially a very caring dad(maybe overprotective). Obviously, is part of the fathers in this list who aren't there as much as they wished they could be, however, he makes up for it in affection and spending quality time.

‌He loves holding his daughter to his chest. Cyno doesn't know why exactly, it just feels right and cozy. And judging by her expression she seems to like it too, as she seems to nuzzle him chasing his warmth.

‌Also just like scara, touch a single hair on this child's head wrong and you are losing that hand. With no warning! Your lost arm IS the warning.

‌Is very adamant about sharing workload. He knows he isn't home often so when he is, cyno takes over some chores and watches his baby so you can rest or so you can be free so you three can eventually enjoy being together.

‌Yeah he can cook and he's pretty good at it! He also might crack one food joke or two, please laugh, he wants to see you smile.

‌When your little girl is old enough to understand it, you suggest have family Genuius Invokation TCG nights every now and then.

‌It made Cyno incredibly happy, he hugged you almost to death.

‌Explain the rules to his baby in the easiest way to understand possible. And yet...he can still be kinda ruthless.

‌This man is convinced that letting her win will ruin her expectations for it so...he makes sure to crush her relentlessly until she finally starts to understand what's going on.

‌Truth to be told he only wanted to help her develop her critical thinking and strategic planning. They aren't bad skills to have and besides, they're both competitive. She's bound to learn from her mistakes.

‌Your daughter loves his jokes(at least until she hits her teens. She'll start thinking they're lame by then) and the he always has this really happy smile on his face when he makes her laugh.

‌Mornings with Cyno are very fun, let's put it like that. More specifically cause you have a man who has eyes that could literally cut someone's arm off with only the power of glaring wearing some pink frilly apron and doing domestic shit.

‌It's. The gap moe is great.

Snehznaya

Childe/Ajax

You and him are both gangsta until you have to wake up with triplets jumping on you.

You already told them not to but SOMEONE encourages and enables their chaotic behavior.

We already stablished they're all kinds spoiled, even if you try your best not to let it affect them too much, so good luck fighing against literal 4 puppy eyes(your fucking husband joined) when they ask you to have i don't know, ice cream for breakfast.

These boys are kinda...hyperactive so as soon as they're done eating they're already putting on their winter clothes and running outside to play in the cold wonderland that is Snehznaya.

Yes! They get sick easily cause of that. Do they ever learn? No.

Surprisingly Childe himself just made a compromise with them to protect their health. It's not like they couldn't have fun inside for a change.

It would spare your heart for sure.

So they make pillow forts, play with whatever toys they have or try their luck with genius Invokation TCG.

Ajax is absolutely tired of getting CRUSHED at the game by literal toddlers, this shit gets old fast.

He was built for irl combat not stupid card strategy games! (Yeah he's overdosing on copium rn).

He might sulk so give him a couple kisses and he'll be back to normal.

#genshin impact x reader #afab reader #KirarinWritting

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6mmad · 2 years

Text

Obey Me! Brothers Reacting to: MC who Kicks in Their Sleep

Lucifer

Typically will get into bed a little bit later, after all, he has a lot of paperwork to go through late into the night

By the time he's there you're in you're deepest point in sleep, absolute peak kicking hour

He's a generally light sleeper so when he feels a sting on his thigh, he opens his eyes pretty quickly

Has raised enough children to put two and two together, you're a sleep-kicker

Won't kick you out of his bed, he'd feel bad otherwise, but he still wants to sleep comfortably

Will put a thick duvet or pillow between you two and call it a night, holds your hand regardless

Doesn't mind all too much on account that he's shared beds with his baby brothers before, it's just one of your quirks

Has no shame about calling you out about it over breakfast

"MC, for future references, you are allowed in my room only if you give a warning about your sleeping habits in advance"

Mammon

Mammon tosses and turns in his sleep a lot and tends to slap whoever is within distance of his arms

So you two in a bed together tends to end in a lot of injuries

He isn't a heavy or light sleeper, but he's also on guard at all times so when he feels a sharp pain on his stomach he assumes one of his brother came to pick on him while he was sleeping

Shoots up and looks around his room

Once he sees the awkward position your body is in he realizes you just kicked him!

Moves your leg and assumes it was a one time thing

Until you do it again

And again

...and again

Wakes you up to complain about it

"Oi! Do I look like a punching bag to you!? Stop kicking me!!"

"What do you mean I do the same thing?! I'm the most peaceful sleeper in all three worlds so stop!!

Literally complains to no end but refuses to let you leave his bed, even if you offer to go back to your room

Won't say a word though, can't have his human being embarrassed!

Levi

For the sake of writing you're both in your room sleeping after a video game run

Levi is a pretty peaceful sleeper, he'll usually just hug his body pillow and stay light that for the rest of the night

Finds it pretty weird that he can feel his body pillow is fighting him back though, was Ruri-chan always this violent? Damn

Cracks an eye open to find out that it's him who has you in a tight hug and you whose beating the crap out of his legs with your kicks

Thinks that you just didn't want him near you, maybe you hated being that close to him?

Goes back to his room with a sore heart (and legs)

Once you confront him on why he left so early you'd have to explain that you just naturally kick in your sleep and that it's not personal, some humans just do it for some reason

Thinks it's super weird that humans do that but will compromise by putting a body pillow between you two next time

Doesn't mention it to his brothers, only he can know your odd human habits

Satan

Sleeps a bit late since he gets so caught up in his stories but seeing you sleep so peacefully makes his heart ache, he decides to keep you company and spoons you

Big mistake

Most normal sleeper out of his brothers so it takes a few kicks to his knees for him to fully wake up

Figures out immediately that it's you and wakes you up to ask if you're having a nightmare, assumes you're jerking around due to distress

Goes back to sleep once he's assured you're sleeping okay and lo and behold, he gets kicked again, hard

Physically recoils and moves away for a bit too observe you and, yup, you just kick for no reason

Will wrap your legs in a duvet and sleep a bit further to keep his knees safe, but he still insists in keeping you in his bed

Teases you about it in private but doesn't want to talk about it in front of anyone else, he would hate to make you feel embarrassed

Asmo

Asmo is really specific about his nighttime routine so anything out of the ordinary will wake him up, including a solid kick to his groin

Actually screams when he wakes up (not in pain, he just lives for the drama) and thus waking you up as well

Gathers himself pretty quickly and concludes that you just kicked him and no he's not ready to find out if you're gonna do it again

Half angry at being so rudely woken up but also pretty worried that you might kick so hard you'll fall off the bed so he decides to make up a good sleeping routine for you

After all, if your body is restless then there must be some solution! Let's you borrow a little face mask and uses enchanted serums to make you sleep better

Genuinely considers kicking you off his bed but what if you go to one of his brothers? When you could be sharing a bed with the most considerate and cute brother!

Makes sure to hold you against him extra tight for good measure

Comments about it over breakfast and makes a big deal about how he's gonna need you to "massage" his area of injury (for healing reasons, of course)

Beelzebub

Beel's twin is the literal embodiment of sleepiness and lazing around so he's used to Belphie getting up to all sort of trouble while asleep

He isn't even a heavy sleeper either, he's just conditioned himself to not care or bother

Wakes up groggily to you kicking him and gets worried that you could hurt yourself if you move too much, after all humans can die if they fall from high places

like a building, beel, not a bed

Koala hugs you and calls it a night

Is definitely toughing it out though since his legs are sore by the time he wakes up in the morning, but he's glad to find out that you didn't flip off the bed!

Asks you about it privately in the morning

"You knew? Ah, okay. I guess humans and demons aren't so different after all. But you should probably go to a doctor, you wouldn't wanna get hurt"

Belphegor

Also kicks in his sleep sometimes

Is so deeply asleep that it's would take a good solid kick to even stir him from his slumber

On the occasion that you manage to do so he just wakes up and glares at you (even if you're sleeping)

If he's awake then you have to be awake too

Nudges you until you wake up

"Hey. What's your deal? You kicked me"

Doesn't actually have any methods to get you to stop kicking but if you kick him particularly hard he'll kick your leg back

Play dead if his kick back wakes you up

"Hm? No, you must've had a nightmare, Ive been asleep this whole time"

Might just hug your legs to sleep

Complains about it in front of his brothers but doubles down if they offer to let you sleep somewhere else

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cinnamonest · 4 years

Text

Zhongli (Genshin Impact) - Yandere Profile

This man's voice has a POWER over me I SWEAR

tws: yandere, mentions of n/sfw

tws (under the cut): very ddlg-esque vibes, sorta? infantilization, noncon

I'm sorry I get such strong daddy vibes it unintentionally went in this direction, hope that isn't too bad lmao

I’m working on all the prompts I’ve gotten in! I’ve gotten a few so I’ll be working on those.

----------

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

He's one that might be likely to misunderstand his feelings at first, think that he sees himself as a mentor or maybe even an authority figure, someone to guide you and teach you and serve as a dependable partner to your travels. As time goes on, and he begins to recognize how utterly flustered he gets around you, he's forced to acknowledge the actual feelings he has.

While some yanderes with a slight aloofness or pride to them get worse when in love, such as Childe or Kaeya, his drops completely. You bring out a softer side of him, really, one that's protective and tender and loving, so very loving, wanting to be around you, with you. He's certainly an obsessive, protective type, ultimately allowing his protective nature to get the better of him as he demands to know everything you've done, account for your location at every moment, constantly keep track of your habits, inquire about very personal details of your life. If he realizes you're bothered by it, he might draw back a bit, but he's convinced that that's just your perception, that it's necessary, truly, and not at all unusual.

Pet names. Particularly fond of love, darling, and angel. Sweet things that represent what you mean to him -- something precious, something to represent his adoration and idolization.

The primary form of delusion comes from a perception of you. He's obsessive, and idolizes you to an extent. He perceives you as pure, innocent, angelic. The thing is, this applies regardless of whether or not you actually are. If you are, it will solidify the idea, but even if you're not, he will find a way to see you so, anyway. No matter how wise you are, no, you're naive. No matter how capable you are, no, you're weak and fragile. No matter how experienced you may be, no, you're pure. He can always keep this delusion running by bringing into account age and comparison - you'll never be as strong as him, so you might as well be frail and weak. You'll never have lived as long as him, so really, do you think there's that much difference between you and a child, when compared to someone like himself?

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

Actually highly likely, and pretty quickly. As he observes you, it becomes very clear to him how very fragile you are, how naive you are, you are quite literally too pure, too angelic, to be living in this world with such beings as humans. Fragile, beautiful little things have a place where they belong - protected. Where do we put fragile, beautiful things? We put them behind glass, behind ropes, in pretty cages, in secluded rooms. It's only natural that you, too, need a similar environment.

He's one of the ones that will... Elegantly kidnap you, as odd as it sounds. He's not a brute that would do something horrendous like knocking you out or drugging you, no, he'll find an excuse for you to come to his abode, invite you in, and you'll walk in none the wiser. Only after your in, and the doors close, does he guide you to your new room, calmly explaining that he's come to the realization that you're too fragile to continue your journey, and ought to simply give up on your travels. He knows you'll be upset at first. Like a child being denied, you'll get pouty, moody, you might cry, you might lash out at him. It's predictable. He'll dry your eyes and calm you down, brushing off any harsh words you may have, holding your wrists in his hands when you try to push him away, softly reassuring you that it will all be alright, that you're safe now, and you'll learn to accept this with time.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

He would want something... elaborate. He's a man with taste for the most beautiful of things, including yourself, and he won't settle for something as simple as a chain or ropes. No, that would be too simple and brutish, and you, one of the finest things in his life, deserve something equally beautiful and delicate.

He's one of the ones that would go to a great deal of preparation for your arrival. He'd have a room prepared just for you, very ornate, beautifully tailored to you -- the walls your favorite color, the bed made of the same material as your old one, and the whole room completely filled with things you're certain you never even told him you liked. Clothes that fit perfectly to your body. It's frightening how perfect it is, because you know he had to go out of his way to acquire the information to achieve such perfection, but you have no idea how.

Everything about it elegant and detailed, right down to the series of ornate locks on the door. They're some of the sturdiest available, made with essentially unbreakable metal alloys and the most intricate lock systems to date. The windows don't open, and he'd certainly find some way to ensure escape through them isn't an option -- perhaps metal bars, perhaps an unbreakable glass substitute, perhaps merely locating your new home right on the edge of one of Liyue's most beautiful mountains, so that if you were to go out the window you'd plummet to the earth below. He's a bit delusional, but he's not stupid, and he will think through every possibility. Every little detail he needs to keep you safe and confined.

He's certain that, perfect as it is, this room is all you will ever need to be happy. Should you desire anything else, he can bring it to you. You'll never have to leave.

So it goes without saying that it would be exceptionally difficult to escape him. You'd have to find a way through the locks, for which your best bet would be to get some hair pins or tiny writing utensils. Even if you managed it, though, which would frankly be a very difficult feat, you'll have to deal with staying free. Zhongli has ties to the people of Liyue as a whole, and needless to say, he has eyes everywhere. You can't risk appearing in the harbor area, there will be far too many people who would immediately report you, and you'd just be walking right to him anyhow. The surrounding areas also have ties to him, so you'd want to try and reach Mondstadt, as far as it is, which is a difficult travel by foot all alone. You won't get far. He's faster, he's wiser, and he will find you long before you could ever hope to make it there.

However, he's not quite as angry as some yanderes would be about it. He doesn't take your escape personally, no, he blames himself, only calculating his own mistakes as to how it happened. He sees you as something like... a little runaway pet, so naive and dull that you don't know any better than to go wandering off. Or perhaps like a child, just sheepishly curious and wanting to explore, not knowing the dangers of the world. Or, perhaps...

"I haven't been giving you enough attention, have I? That's why you pulled this little act of rebellion... you're hurt by my negligence and wanted to be reassured of my care for you. I'm so sorry... I understand now, love. This was my fault. I've been so caught up with work... I'll delegate some tasks to my workers, and I'll be able to spend more time with you from now on, alright? Don't worry, I'm not angry, I'll take full responsibility. I'll be sure to make it up to you... now, let's go home."

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

Much like Childe or Venti or anyone who has been around as long as he has, you really don't stand a chance. He's an incredibly perceptive man. There's not much to say on the matter, as any attempts will be quickly shut down.

He'd find it amusing, really. Like a child trying to lie, but the evidence is all over their face and hands - it's that obvious to him. It's cute enough that he almost hates having to discipline you for it, but, you have to learn.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

He wants his little angel to be safe - and unfortunately, you, being so naive and empty headed, don't always know what's best for you. He knows rules can be hard to follow perfectly, but they're there to keep you safe.

Extremely strict, will want to monitor every moment of your life, every little movement you take, and will insist on watching over you in every task. He'll pick out everything you wear, everything you eat.

Occasionally, if you ask very sweetly, he may take you out for walks in Liyue. Honestly, he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy taking you to what he knows are the finest locations, shops with the highest level of craftsmanship, restaurants with a high price tag and reputable food. He enjoys showing off his refined tastes and discerning selective abilities. And honestly? There's a certain... Powerful feeling to knowing you're made aware of the costs when he makes high purchases in front of you... even if you don't realize he's not always actually the one paying for it, or that he forgot mora again but promises the owner to pay later - but he'll make sure you don't know that. You hear the numbers, and your eyebrows raise, your eyes widen. You'd nearly faint if that total was on your responsibility, and he knows that. Which is why he'll simply smile at you, and tell you you're worth every last Mora. He'll buy you nearly anything you may desire. It seems like leniency, but in reality, it's his subtle way of locking control and dependency over you, making you respect him, making you love him.

"Don't worry, love. It's not a lot... Not to me, at least. Even if it were, my angel only deserves the best, no?"

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

Oh dear. Again, he's very strict, and wants to monitor everything you do, every little aspect of your life. He decides what you eat, portioning your meals to make sure you're eating enough, he worries about you going hungry during your travels, but luckily you'll never have to worry about that again. If you have a sweet tooth, he'll sigh and worry about your teeth and health, but he'll make sure to account for a little bit of sugar in your day, and will even pick up little treats from some of the most reputable places in Liyue.

He picks out clothes for you with each day. They're not... Normal clothes, per se. Certainly not what you'd normally wear on your travels. And it's not like anyone will see you except him - which is exactly why you'll have clothes he would never want anyone else to see you in. Frilly, lacey things, somehow both highly sexualized but also incredibly infantile, soft pinks, baby blues, gentle off-whites. They accentuate the curves of your body so perfectly, while just barely letting him see the parts of you normally kept hidden.

You'll have a schedule - a bath time, a bedtime, a wake-up time. He's weak to your requests, though, and may let you stay up a little late every now and then, or sleep in just a bit, if you make that soft pouting face and beg. He'll insist on bathing you, dressing you, so that you don't have to - and can't even if you wanted to - lift a finger even to wash yourself or put your clothes on.

He has a set of rules for you, very simple ones he hopes you can easily follow. No trying to leave. No doing anything dangerous. No talking to strangers when you go out. You must hold his hand whenever you're walking together, don't go wandering off.

He'll feel ashamed of the thought for a while, but eventually he'll cave and give into the desire, no, the security precaution, of a nice little collar for you. It's not too embarrassing, no, he went out of his way to find one that was delicate, almost like a necklace, made with fine materials, the engraving only visible up close. If you look closely, though, it clearly bears his name.

Breaking the rules is expected, he anticipates it. You're not the brightest, he might even view it as a mistake. A benefit is that you can easily pass it off as simply forgotten, or an accident. Hence, he's not too harsh - normally. He'll sigh, forgive you, and pat your head, contemplating how to prevent your access in the future.

Perhaps you wriggled out of his hand and ran off while walking? You were just excited, distracted, like a child. He might be able to procure a small leash, one that wouldn't be immediately obvious or embarrassing, to attach to your collar. Perhaps some cuff-like links to latch your arm to his.

You forgot the rule about not handling the kitchen knives and cut yourself? He'll have to get some kind of lock and simply keep them safely away from you. No big deal. Any measures are worth your safety.

If you push the limits, or have a defiant attitude, he might reach the point of punishment. As for not-unwholesome things, this would usually include taking away privileges, such as walks or sweets, but overall, punishment will mostly come in more impure forms.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

Not too much to say here - he has connections. He doesn't need to dirty his own hands. For all his supposed humility, if he truly dislikes someone, they're no more significant than an insect to him. He has no reservations about ridding the world of people who, in his mind, are obviously trying to deceive you, abuse you, corrupt you.

Thankfully, he is very capable of keeping a neutral face, even when he feels laughter building up. It would probably look strange if he were smiling over the newest body to come into his parlor.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

It's a slow buildup. He views restraint as a virtue, and looks down upon those who lack control over their own tempers. He's a man who strives to meet his own standards of character, and that very much applies to self control and ability to maintain a controlled demeanor, even when he feels a bit of frustration due to you being intentionally and deliberately defiant.

It's his responsibility to be a good role model for you and make sure you understand how to behave. However, in the end, he's very keen on properness and rules. If you have a tendency towards brattiness and pushing your limits, you may drive him to a boiling point.

However, even when expressing his anger, he's remarkably controlled. It's very mature, really. Nonetheless, he will have you shivering and tearful with his voice alone, booming with that depth that reverberates off the walls, that vibrates against your very core. His true anger is one that can strike fear even in the most courageous individuals - he's terrifying when he wants to be, fierce and intimidating, a sort of power just eminates from him.

Nonetheless, it's quick, he calms down very quickly, wipes the tears from your eyes, and sighs.

"I do hate having to be firm with you... but I can't have you thinking you can just act however you want. You understand that, don't you?"

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

Both? It's difficult to describe. You're an angel to him. You're the finest work of art, the most intricate creation, the kind of person whose body and likeness deserves to be preserved in art and tradition, one of those women who should be renowned for beauty even centuries long after you're gone from the earth. It's almost goddess-like. At the same time, there's a beautiful, tragic duality to your essence, he thinks. A fragility and a dependency that leaves you in need, but an inherent status of perfection that makes you deserve the utmost perfect of care. You need to be coddled, cared for, protected, but you deserve it. Like a deity incarnated into a mere fragile human form, a queen that needs support to retain her grace.

Unlike some, he doesn't view his care and protection as some kind of favor that should be repaid with your gratitude, no, really, he is grateful that he is the one who is even deserving of being your caretaker, your provider, your lover.

Even if he is the one who determined that he deserves that role.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

He's convinced that he can show you that he is your protector, your lover, that it's fate itself that has locked you together, not just his own will.

And he is, above all else, patient. One of the most patient you could encounter. You think a year is a long time? It's nothing to him. A century for you? More than a lifetime. For him? Nothing. He can and will wait, as long as it takes, and he will never falter in his continual care. He'll remind you frequently, he'll shower you in affection, but if you don't return it? It's not that bad. He has all the time in the world to fix you.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Moraless Sugar daddy

But in all seriousness, he is definitely of the gift-giving love language. He sees beautiful things, and beautiful things make him think of you! It's sweet, he thinks. So many little things he sees throughout his day make him think of you, and he has to have all of them, see your face when he gives them to you. He likes making you happy, for one, but he'd be lying if he said there wasn't a sort of satisfactory pride he gets from the power dynamic of it all. He wants to be the sole source of provision in your life, he wants your dependency.

If we're talking prior to the events of the game, it will be even more extreme. He treats it like it's truly nothing, throwing around massive purchases, seemingly as if he's not thinking about it at all. But he is - rest assured, he's taking it into consideration, at least, that is, how it will affect your attitude and perception of him.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

On the reserved side. He'd never conduct himself improperly in public, of course. It's out of the question. He cares about proper behavior and public image, and he'd never behave in a vulgar manner.

Even in private, he's certainly one of the ones that struggles with a certain guilt. To some degree, he would feel like you're so innocent and pure that he doesn't want to corrupt you. He goes through stages. First, he'll lie to himself, telling himself that the feelings he has for you are simply protective, platonic, a natural sense of responsibility for you. That becomes more and more difficult to convince himself of, the more excited he becomes around you, the more he finds his eyes drawn to whatever bits of skin are exposed on your body, finding himself drifting off to impure thoughts, trying to push them away.

Second, once he's forced to acknowledge the true nature of these feelings, he'll simply practice restraint, something he's rather good at in this area. He tries, he really does. He tells himself he can't do something so impure, that it would violate you, that he should be ashamed of himself for it. It becomes more and more and more difficult to restrain himself with time, the feelings rising and the thoughts become more difficult to push away, eventually entertaining the fantasies in his head in an attempt to rid himself of the urge in real life. It doesn't work, no, it only makes the urges worse, and he can't be around you without his body nearly commanding him to do something. And finally, he'll take a different stance entirely, telling himself that, no, it's not going to corrupt you, rather, it's taking care of you. If he really wants to love you, really wants to care for all of your needs, then surely that would include your physical needs, and therefore, really, it would be wrong of him not to help you.

As that shift in viewpoints goes on, he'll become more and more bold, hands lingering just a little longer, face coming just a little closer. It's a slow build of tension, just waiting to boil over.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

He understands you're nervous. Again, no matter how experienced you are, somehow in his head he makes it out to be insignificant. Even if you've had other relationships, he convinces himself - and tries to convince you - that they were inadequate, they didn't care about you, not like he does. And he'll treat it as that -- any resistance you put up is nervousness, nothing more, nothing less. He'll reassure you a million times that you won't feel pain, that he'll be gentle, that you'll feel good, even if his size and strength frankly is rather intimidating regardless of experience. He'll keep cooing in your ear, softly whispering reassurance, softly running hands over your skin, holding you in place as the last inch stretches you apart.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

Infantilization

Again, no matter how smart, experienced, and capable you may be, you're none of those things to him. You're a fragile, little thing. He has to take care of you at all times. It may not be evident at first, and he himself likely doesn't fully realize it, but there is something highly sexual to this for him. Caring for you puts him in a position of dominance, control. It gives him access to your privacy, dressing you up, fingers running over your skin, bathing you, watching your skin glisten. He'll talk to you in this way, too, often softly, remarking every little way in which you need him, and even condescendingly so. He wants you to be his, not only in a sense of love, but of possession.

Oral

Primarily giving. Even on its own, he loves the taste, but the effect it has on you makes it that much better. He loves anything that forces you to depend on him entirely for pleasure, that puts you at his mercy. And he'll be torturous about it too, restraining your arms and legs so you can't control anything, hold your hips down so you can't roll into him, so that only he can determine exactly how much pressure and speed you get. And he won't rush it, no, he'll go so slowly it's torturous, and telling you very simply that if you want any more, you'll have to beg.

Edging

For a variety of reasons. The power trip is as exhilarating as it is pleasurable, but he also loves watching your body writhe. Each little muscle that moves under the flesh when your arms strain against his hand holding your wrists together, the convulsing of your stomach muscles, the way your toes curl and legs spasm and the sweet little whimpers you make when he draws back just short of your high. He's mastered watching your reactions, knowing exactly when to stop, even if you try to mask it. He'll want you to tell him, though, nonetheless, tell him when you're close, if for nothing else but the sense of you obeying his commands.

Collaring

Similarly to infantilization, it gives him something of a sense of control, of possession. He loves seeing his name engraved on it, marking the whole of your being with his ownership. In his somewhat rare moments of roughness, he'll want to pull on it, use it to draw you towards him, in a moment of your defiance, in particular. If you're being mouthy, whiny, disobedient, and you finally make him snap, especially if you try to walk away from him, he'll yank you back with force, pulling you close to him, and when the force of it shuts you up, changes your demeanor, forces you to acknowledge your submission - the satisfaction he'll get from that is incomparable.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

As much as he likes the idea, to him, you're already like a child, naive and fragile. Could your body even handle a pregnancy, a birth? He'd likely try to avoid it, but in the end, if it happened by accident anyway, rest assured you'd be getting the best care of any woman to ever be pregnant in Teyvat, and he'd do everything in his power to ensure you were always comfortable, taking his caretaking to another level, almost never even letting you get up, insisting you stay still and calm and needy.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

He'd be one to pull the "it doesn't hurt you as much as it does me" line, but really, even if he refuses to admit it to his own self, having you bent over his lap is just as much for his own enjoyment as it is a disciplinary measure. It's more humiliating than it is painful -- he'd hold back, afraid of hurting you with his strength, but taking in every little flinch and whimper you make as he brings his hand down on your ass, keeping your head pressed down, kneading at the flesh. He'd insist it's the most effective punishment measure, but you can feel the hard-on digging into your stomach. The worse the behavior, the worse the beating, but every time, after it's over, he'll hold you upright, wiping the tears from your eyes and asking you if you learned you lesson, if you intend to do it again, and smiling when you insist you won't.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

Your skin. It's beautiful, and he loves the way that light from the moon and sun look on your naked form. He loves the way your skin feels, soft and delicate, smooth, so paper thin and fragile, and so, so deliciously prone to showing marks from the slightest of harm - a simple smack can make the plump flesh darkened and reddened, the lightest suckling will leave beautiful hickeys all down your neck and chest. There are so many ways to mark his property, to stake a visible claim all over you, it's irresistible.

He also will go out of his way, when picking out all the things he wants you to wear, to find colors that best go with your skin tone, in a contrasting sense - particularly lacey, sheer things that contrast very well, so he can see your soft flesh perfectly defined against the little lace patterns.

#yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere zhongli #tw: noncon #tw: dark content

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izusun · 3 years

Note

*hands you an AU dump to hoard like a little goblin handing a small coin to a dragon*

OKAY so basically: after the doctor's visit where Izuku learns he's quirkless (I hc that they went when he was about five n' a half), Inko does a little bit of research on quirks and more specifically on her son's notebooks, learns that he's even more brilliant at quirk analysis than she originally suspected, and (after looking at some not great quirkless statistics) she instead informs Izuku that no, he's had a quirk all along! It's an analysis quirk!

So she updates the quirk registry, and Izuku goes through his life believing he has an analysis quirk, albeit teased for being a late bloomer, but he still can't shake the insecurity being quirkless for that one and a half year gave him.

He does research on all sorts of things, hacking, knife throwing, first aid, and building his own support gear and takes to all of it like a duck to water. He also does research on UA's policy for support gear in the entrance exam (cause surely they've gotta have a policy for non-offensive quirks like Koda and Hagakure) and finds that he can take one with him if he builds it himself. He goes fuckin bonkers.

Anyways: he trains with Katsuki, cause they're relationship is pretty good since Izuku has a 'quirk.' They both demolish the entrance exam. (Also Izuku kinda swears a lot because Katsuki rubs off on him)

Aizawa doesn't notice a goddamn thing is amiss until the battle trials on the second day (he decides to shadow All Might that day), where when he was using his quirk to silence his students while Izuku was rambling, he just didn't stop, as if he didn't notice anything was wrong. It happens again during the USJ.

So at some point during the sports festival, Nedzu (who is now intrigued because of Aizawa's complaining) invites Izuku into his office during a free period and lets him go ham on analysis, all while Aizawa is secretly there erasing Izuku's 'quirk.' Nedzu invites Izuku to be his personal student (making Aizawa go grey), he says yes, and then Nedzu drops the absolute BOMBSHELL that Izuku is actually quirkless. Cue an existential crisis.

(Also Izuku gets captured at the training camp alongside Katsuki because of his "analysis quirk," wonder how well that goes for him~)

- Goblin anon (sorry this one was kinda long)

GOBLIN?? DUDE???? HOLY SHIT I KNEW YOUR AUS ARE ALWAYS PHENOMENAL BUT THIS RIGHT HERE??? D U D E

i misunderstood the prompt a bit but i genuinely don’t know how to backtrack, so here you go goblin. sorry again o(TヘTo)

ok first of, inko taking on a stronger stance to support her son? love that of her. like, she doesn’t say sorry when izuku turned to look at her and cried that he can’t be like all might. instead, she took him in her arms and assures him that he will be a great hero. at first, of course half of it is lip service because she doesn’t know how to help her quirkless boy be a hero, since, you know, heroes need quirks.. (or do they)

and then she comes across a quirkless self help group which rang many many warning bells in her head. what kind of life do quirkless people live when a google research of them resulted in subsequent pages of results like how to stay safe when quirkless, or how to find jobs when quirkless, or quirkless mortality rates?

she fears for izuku, until she notices that her son’s smart. too smart for his age, but inko thought she’s just being biased. but izuku’s wit is something many people notice, for an instance, when izuku goes to the park to play and his friends’ (the few ones who stayed) parents tell her that her son’s smart for a quirkless person, she realizes that izuku’s wit is far more vast than normal.

then a thought worms into her head but wouldn’t it be bad to lie…but also, no one would be any the wiser.

further pushed by all the statistics she keeps seeing, or the lack thereof, about quirkless people, she makes the decision and pours it to izuku.

izuku who’s far smarter than his age and understood what his mom is asking from him. izuku who already saw the disparities between quirked and quirkless people at the tender age of five. izuku who knows what it means to lie about something as personal as a quirk, but realizes that it’s necessary for him to do so if he wants to live a “normal” life.

so he agrees; he tells inko that he’ll work even harder to sharpen his mind, and to keep expanding his knowledge.

when izuku’s quirk file is officially updated, he watches how his peers and teachers revert back into treating him as izuku. he regains his old friends, but he chose to drop them because he doesn’t want to surround himself with people who thought he was less for being quirkless.

katsuki stayed, surprisingly. katsuki stayed and everyday he kept bothering izuku to “get your quirk already!” katsuki stayed because he can’t fathom that the smartest boy in their class (of course not as smart as him, psshh) is quirkless. deku couldn’t be quirkless. (but if he found out that izuku, indeed, is, i wonder what would happen…)

katsuki was one of the loudest to celebrate when izuku announced that his quirk arrived.

“finally!” he screams and bothers izuku about the semantics of his quirk. he really wasn’t surprised to find out that izuku has an analysis quirk because he thought that nothing else would better be suited for izuku.

he doesn’t know that izuku pours so much of his time into learning and studying, often bypassing basics and intros to take more of the developed courses that are usually recommended for older ages. he doesn’t know that izuku is just a naturally smart kid with the ability to fill the gaps of his young mind with knowledge upon knowledge, storing and stacking them until he feels that he’s laid a sturdy foundation for his fake quirk.

then izuku began threading into different areas. he learns how to get into cyberspaces; hacking into accounts and delving more into how to access private information. he doesn’t thread too close lest he gets caught, but he learns the logistics of maneuvering around the web and burrowing in empty spaces to branch out his own. he creates and designs web algorithms for himself, just so he doesn’t trigger anyone who is looking into the web movements. he hones this and uses it to access more information.

then when he deems it enough, he turns his attention to something more tangible and something more physical. he learns other ways to be a hero; how to fight without a physical quirk, how to win against bigger opponents, how to use analysis quirk in fights.

izuku becomes more than a fake analysis quirk user; he creates it.

mental quirks are hard to describe, more so to compress, thus he creates new definitions of an analysis quirk. what used to be a silly lie is now a tangible fact that izuku believes in. because what makes a quirk? because what makes analysis a quirk? he learns these semantics (often political) and uses it to his advantage.

then he finally threads to hero analysis. at first it were classmates he analyzed; eyes running quickly at their forms and watching with great interest before calculating everything he’s seen and transversing it with the things he learned, and bridges these two facts together to create an analysis. it was a struggle at first: he didn’t know which to put emphasis on until he realizes, he doesn’t need to. he weaves them together and lets his analysis run long and watches how his hobby comes into fruition.

following his classmates are current heroes. these were more tough and more fun, and any of the information is less shared. he doesn’t tell his classmates or teachers about his analyses, only katsuki. and katsuki’s breath hitch every damn time at izuku’s talent quirk.

it is in their second year of middle school that midoriya begins to incorporate the facts with himself to create physical performances. the issues and things he learned through observing are now practiced by himself. he calculates the best way to fight with a body as petite as his, often taking examples from pro-hero hawks and other women heroes. their agilities and physicality suit izuku’s young body; he doesn’t see the merit in punching his way through things when he physically cannot.

so he learns ways to ease his muscles. he learns ballet and gymnastics; lets his muscles contort and mend themselves anew. he finds his balance and roots himself firmly, and learns to calculate his actions so he doesn’t waste his energy. katsuki doesn’t say anything, but he sees izuku’s dance and falls in love.

then in the spring of their third year of middle school, izuku learns how to build and handle weapons.

this is the easiest. izuku learns that weapons aren’t tools, but extensions of his arms and hands. they are not to be revered and not to be depended on because they can fail. instead, he learns to wield weapons as though they are parts of his bodies. he learns how to use swords and often narrowing to wooden sticks that can be picked up anywhere; he learns how to fire guns and how to hide daggers in his uniform. he learns that his body is the best weapon to use and that tools are just arsenal to help him win.

then he learns how to build them.

by summer, izuku begins reaching into UA’s servers. they are hard codes to crack, but not impossible. it takes him five days to access old entrance exam videos. the next day, the videos are snuffed and he is left to try digging deeper into UA.

he fails.

nezu must have caught onto his codes and proceeded to build walls against it.

so he slithers out. but a five minute video of last year’s entrance exam is enough for izuku because he learns two things: one, heroes must defeat villains and two, heroes must save others.

izuku prepares for this. unknowingly, katsuki is taught these same principles. katsuki would grumble and tell him that he knows what heroes must do, but izuku continues to hammer it down to him.

by the time of the UA entrance exam, izuku falls into the ease of having a fake quirk. he passes the written exam with flying colours and although it took three teachers to approve his support gears (present mic had to pull in powerloader, midnight, and hound dog to ensure that the well designed support gears are made by the hero student examinee and not by a support student examinee. majima saw the works and begged nezu to allow izuku to be his student.), izuku still succeeds and dominates the entrance exam.

when the zero pointer was released, he had flung himself towards the girl crushed by debris and yanks her out. he doesn’t waste a modified grenade to explode the zero pointer because through his calculations, doing so would not only create more collateral damage, but would also endanger the examinee in his arms because she still would be caught in the crossfire.

nezu hums in appreciation from the screening room, after all, smart minds always do think alike.

izuku gets a whopping 92 in the physical aspects of the entrance exam.

katsuki gets 85.

aizawa gleefully takes them in.

izuku thinks that no one will ever know of his and inko’s secret, but one look at nezu’s beady eyes and he knew that the stoat knew. it became a game to them, then. a game to see who else would realize.

and while izuku is smart, he doesn’t realize that nezu has basically taken him as his personal student the moment he and izuku had created a bet.

it takes two months for aizawa to figure things out. surprisingly, he is the only one to do so and he only realizes due to the many untimely attacks of LoV.

——

how angst would it be if katsuki realizes that izuku’s always been quirkless during their captivity in the LoV’s hideout.

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asmo-baby5 · 3 years

Text

Burned

Request: @seerachii-art

Description: Mc had gotten very used to the Devildom and would wander around by themself now. They had pacts with the seven highest ranking demons right after the Prince himself and they were close friends with the angels, the powerful sorcerer, and Barbatos and Diavolo themselves. They never accounted for a lower ranking demon wanting to attack them for these relationships.

CW: mentions of burns, slight gore (not a lot)

Lucifer-

•he had gone out looking for Mc after they never showed up for dinner.

•he was very pissed that they went out alone, but he assumed if they really needed help they would call or use their pact to summon him.

•he walked through the Devildom with a very calm demeanor.

•of course, that was right up until he actually saw them.

•Mc was sitting outside of RAD with Barbatos hovering over them like a worried mother.

•"Mc, it is past time for dinner. What are you doing still at..."

•his voice faded out as Mc looked up at him.

•they were holding a damp towel over half their face and tears were flowing freely out of their open eye.

•his normal calm demeanor gave way to an eerie calm.

•"what happened?"

•his voice was low and made Mc flinch away from him.

•they looked so pathetic...

•Barbatos tried to explain what happened but he looked straight at Mc, waiting for their recount of events.

•"he was saying, saying bad things about you." They somehow got out through all the crying.

•lucifer was starting to fill in the blanks himself, but he still needed to assess the damage in order to decide what punishment would befit a lower demon who dared to harm this human.

•Barbatos helped Mc to gently pull the towel away from their face and show Lucifer the large burn covering over their eye.

•the cold towel had stopped the skin from pulling away from their face more than it already had.

•needless to say that calm demeanor quickly turned into burning hot (no pun intended) anger.

•with the help of Barbatos, who had just so happened to be leaving RAD at the time Mc was attacked, Lucifer was able to get them home.

•he offered, more than once, to fly back but they refused so he settled on just carrying them back.

•every fiber of his being wanted to go after the demon that harmed Mc, but he knew he had to get them home and settled before he could even think about leaving their side again.

•Mc refused any magical treatment, so Lucifer took them back to the human world for medical treatment.

•they ended up with a scar over the eye they had unfortunately lost sight in.

•everytime Lucifer saw that scar he'd get very irritated and would be stuck to Mc's side up until he physically could not have them with him for work.

•would pass them onto Simeon so he could keep an eye on them because he didn't trust any of his brothers to keep them completely out of harms way.

•the demon who hurt them was currently (and for the next few centuries) being used as a chew toy for Cerberus.

Mammon-

•rarely let's Mc out of his sight,

•so when they somehow manage to give him the slip one day he starts to freak out, rightfully so.

•not only that but his pact mark was starting to heat up, that only happened when Mc was in trouble.

•he retraces their steps from that day hoping to find Mc at one of the places they had visited.

•he smells them before he actually sees them.

•a mix of tears, sweat, and burnt flesh drew him towards a corner just outside of RAD.

•Mc was holding a sopping wet cloth up to their cheek and was wiping at the tears falling down their face with their free hand.

•every so often they would grimace as they moved the cloth around.

•Mammon was frozen in place looking at his human crying and shaking.

•he could practically feel their pain and their fear.

•he snapped out of it when he caught a glimpse of what was under the cloth.

•"Mc, who the hell burned ya?"

•he tried to keep calm, but let's be honest, being calm when the one person he loved above others was hurt was not exactly easy.

•"who. Burned. You?" His tone dropped to a threatening low growl.

•when Mc flinched at his tone he did calm down a bit though.

•he had to take care of them first before looking for revenge.

•when Mc explained that they were cornered by two lower demons and then lightly burned before they ran away, Mammon had to literally fight to keep from growling.

•it was bad enough for Mc to be attacked, but to be cornered by two demons was the most cowardly thing he had ever heard.

•when he checked the burn his heart clenched.

•there was a good chunk of flesh missing from their cheek.

•he flew them home and tried to convince them to get it magically treated so it wouldn't take as long and there'd be no scar, but Mc refused.

•he didnt leave their side after that incident.

•if you thought Mammon was possessive before, just wait until you see him now.

•he sleeps in Mc's room

•walks with them to school

•constantly texts them when in separate classes

•and goes with them wherever after school

•he doesn't trust anyone else with Mc's wellbeing.

•seeing the scar on their cheek ups his protectiveness and he will follow them around like a puppy.

Levi-

•he knew something was wrong when Mc never showed up for the new episode of an anime they were watching together.

•he was immediately anxious but tried to reason that maybe they were just caught up doing homework or maybe getting snacks and Beel cornered them for the food etc etc.

•yeah, his reasoning quickly turned into overthinking.

•he was about to go looking for them when suddenly he felt a pit in his stomach.

•he could just feel that something in the House of Lamentation was wrong.

•he opened his door only to be met with panicked shouts from floor to floor and the sound of running footsteps.

•like he thought, something was wrong.

•"Leviathan!"

•angry Lucifer shouts were coming from downstairs, so thats where he headed to see what was so wrong.

•he stopped in his tracks though as the view of Mc curled into a ball on Mammon's lap with a towel over their face entered his field of vision.

•he was supposed to be looking after them and the pit in his stomach only grew as he watched Mammon make very small and soft movements with Mc, something he never did ever.

•"Mc...?"

•Levi's voice was small as he got closer and could finally smell it,

•the burnt flesh on Mc's face being held together by the cold towel.

•he almost gagged, and would have if Lucifer didn't suddenly grab his shoulder pulling his senses away from the smell and sight.

•"where were you!?"

•is all Lucifer had to ask for Levi to realize that Mc got hurt,

•they got hurt on his watch,

•he couldn't protect them.

•"I- I'm ok, okay." Mc had stuttered out, the pain made it hard to string words together

•it took a moment for Levi to compose himself, and even when he did outwardly he was an utter MESS inside.

•do-dont lie, Mc..." he slowly made his way over to them, but kept his distance from them.

•they got hurt because he wasn't competent enough,

•there was no way he could let himself ever indulge in their presence after this.

•he would of course take revenge against whoever dared to hurt Mc,

•but when they reached out and gently held onto Levi's hand, their's still trembling,

•he finally decided that being with them was the only place he wanted to be.

•as much as he wanted to absolutely decimate whoever hurt them, Mc needed him there more,

•and his Henry always came first.

•besides, he was fairly certain Lucifer was already making preparations to take care of the demon.

Satan-

•he was out with Mc looking for some new books from a bookstore that just opened.

•the two got separated for barely two minutes,

•but it was more than enough time for a group of demons to walk over and taunt them.

•Mc's already poor relationship with the other demons in the Devildom had recently got worse.

•its not like Satan didn't know this,

•he was hyper aware of the fact Mc was being targeted more often by lower demons for petty jabs.

•that's why losing them in a new store caused anxiety to creep into his body and sit like a rock in the pit of his stomach.

•Mc had expressed their fear of these demons (cowards, as Satan kindly referred to them) trying something more than jabs,

•so he felt very protective over them since then, wanting them to feel safe when they were with him.

•But safe was the exact opposite of what they were now.

•Satan quickly found Mc, but he also witnessed one demon slap them,

•hard.

•hard enough that they left a burnt handprint scarred onto Mc's cheek.

•Satan could barely process what had happened.

•before he knew it his vision had gone red and he could feel a low growl coming from deep in his gut.

•he was about to go after the demons who did this but Mc stopped him with a whimper that immediately brought him back.

•he wasn't really the most calm all the time,

•but in a crisis he was the best demon to go to because he could keep a surprisingly cool head.

•once his temper had cooled down enough for him to stop clenching both his jaw and his fists, he set to work caring for them.

•As he took the time to properly dress the wound the human way, Mc explained to him what happened.

•the group apparently confronted them about Satan's reputation.

•he was once known as the cruelest and scariest demon right after Lucifer,

•but apparently rumors had started to spread that he had become soft.

•many demons blamed Mc for this change because they had a pact with him and Satan was most definitely not known for having pacts with anyone.

•as he listened to this his anger started to spike again, but he pushed it back down enough to swiftly carry the Mc home.

•he didnt want to have to rely on Lucifer for anything, but only he could come and go between the human world and the Devildom,

•and Mc needed burn treatment in an environment that would promote healing for humans.

•once he knew Mc was being well taken care of though, he finally let his anger rise and bubble at the surface.

•he got a pretty good look at the demons who hurt Mc, and Satan NEVER forgot a face.

•once the Mc had come back, the scar left by the demon made Satan's rage come back anew every time.

•he even requested that Asmo try any and all facials and treatments that could get rid of scars.

•and as for the group of demons?

•well,

•let's just say,

•you should never make the Avatar of Wrath your enemy...

Asmo-

•he and Mc were on a date.

•clothes shopping, tea, sweets, spa, and hairdresser.

•everything was going great,

•Asmo was having the most perfect time being with Mc for so long without his brothers interfering.

•that is, up until their hair appointment.

•the two were separated for a bit because they each needed different treatments done to their hair.

•Asmo didn't think much of it.

•he had taken Mc to this particular hairdresser many times already, so he never thought anything bad could possibly happen to them.

•he was proven wrong when a scream came from the other side of the building,

•the area where Mc was.

•Asmo shot up out of his chair and practically teleported to where they were.

•what he saw made this normally pretty calm demon's blood boil.

•one of the workers was bowing and apologizing repeatedly as Mc looked at them dazedly.

•but what really got to him was the intern hiding behind a corner, laughing.

•"so this is funny, is it?"

•he had snuck up behind them and asked, his voice unusually low.

•"this particular human is under the complete protection of Lord Diavolo, would you like to explain to him why there is now a burn covering half their face?"

•the intern paled at that and shook their head.

•"I would not think so. Now explain to me how this happened."

•the intern explained that they dipped the cloth that goes on Mc's face in scalding hot water.

•they knew Mc was a human and they wanted to test their limits,

•but they adamantly maintained that they never intentionally harmed Mc.

•Asmo was furious, especially because this happened in a place where he was only a few feet away.

•but he did give up on grilling the intern, deciding he'd give their name over to Diavolo and Lucifer later, in favor of comforting Mc.

•they were coming out of their daze but that meant the pain was starting to set in.

•Asmo was able to carry them out of the shop and quickly home before they could scream again,

•or cry.

•he would definitely go on a rampage if Mc started crying and killing a demon in broad daylight was not a good look for his cute image.

•he informed Lucifer what happened and trusted he would then take it to Diavolo.

•Asmo carried Mc to his room and set them in his low hanging seat so he could tend to their burn.

•thankfully it wasnt bad enough to be cause for major concern,

•but it was bad enough that Asmo was worried about some scarring.

•he was able to clean the skin around the burn and then apply a few different treatments to lessen the scarring process.

•he promised to use all kinds of facials on Mc, once they were feeling up to it, so the scars would heal quickly.

•once Mc was taken care of, he couldn't even think of leaving their side,

•so he opted to lie down on his bed with them.

•Mc fell asleep rather quickly, the trauma making them exhausted.

•Asmo couldn't fall asleep for a while though as he spent time blaming himself for the injury.

•he would never, ever, forget this day...

Beel-

•he was out to eat with Mc as usual.

•there was an all you can eat buffet that had just opened up and Beel was all willing to pay for both of their meals if Mc went with him.

•of course they did.

•it is way too hard to say no to Beel.

•while he was on his fifth plate of food, Mc wandered of to the bathroom for a small break.

•they accidentally ran into a group of demons on the way there and got into a small altercation.

•they started badgering Mc and complaining about how the nicest demon brother was no longer able nor willing to hang out with them because he'd rather be with Mc.

•it was a small, petty, argument that unfortunately ended up in a small burn that ate through the first and second layer of skin on Mc's cheek.

•the demon that did it freaked out because they knew humans were weak by my god they're way too weak!

•the group ran away, out of the restaurant, leaving Mc staring wide eyed at the floor, the pain from their cheek slowly starting to register.

•they walked calmly back to the table to grab Beel.

•"B-Beel, Beel, we need to, to leave." They had stuttered out.

•the pain was making it hard to form sentences.

•"Mc, I can get a free meal if I finish this..."

•Beel's sentence had faded off as he finally looked up.

•Mc's eyes were glazed over from the pain and blood was dripping down from the pretty sizeable hole in their cheek.

•the big demon was up and out of the restaurant in no time, carrying Mc with him.

•he didnt really know what to do in the moment but he did know Mc needed help, fast.

•he went to Solomon first because his magic is the first thing Beel's panicked mind landed on.

•Solomon immediately went to work cleaning and bandaging the wound.

•because of his medicinal herbs, he had learned a fair amount of human medicine and knew how to care for a burn.

•Beel refused to leave their side, only doing so when Solomon convinced him to call Lucifer and inform him of what happened.

•After Solomon had taken care of the burn, he talked Beel into letting Mc stay at Purgatory Hall for a few days so that the rowdy demon brothers wouldn't interfere with their healing.

•Beel was over every day, almost every hour, to check up on them.

•once the burn had healed a fair amount, Solomon was able to use his magic to prevent any scarring.

•Beel 100% blamed himself for the injury, he felt he had once again failed to protect an important part of his family.

•it took a lot of convincing from Mc and Belphie for him to stop blaming himself so much.

•he was never focused on revenge against the demons that did this as his full focus was on Mc and their recovery,

•Lucky for him, Solomon and Lucifer weren't as focused on Mc..

Belphie-

•he never really left the house and he wasn't super overprotective of Mc like the other brothers were.

•he knew their strength but also knew that if they needed him they would call for him.

•so when the pact mark he had with Mc started to heat up and quickly started to burn, he knew that was them calling for him.

•they needed his help and he was more than willing to give it.

•he left the house in a hurry as the mark started to burn more and more.

•despite trusting Mc to pretty much take care of themself,

•he couldn't deny the worry and concern rapidly growing.

•the pact mark between a human and their demon is supposed to connect them and one is supposed to be able to find the other through this mark

•but Belphie was new to pacts with humans and he wasn't quite sure how to use it to find Mc.

•this did not help his concern as he realized they could literally be anywhere in the Devildom.

•he decided to just go to all their favorite places to see if he could find them.

•he eventually found them pacing right outside the planetarium.

•it was their place, the two of them, so he mentally slapped himself for not checking there sooner.

•"Mc, whats going on?"

•he walked over to them but they turned away from him.

•he froze as one of the worst smells ever finally reached his nose.

•it was awful.

•"Mc, what happened?" He tried to reach out and grab their shoulder but he stopped when he noticed them trembling.

•"Uh, um, its nothing, nothing bad."

•their voice was trembling just as much as their body and Belphie had finally reached his limit.

•he spun them around and was about to say something but he froze.

•Mc was crying while holding their jacket over one half of their face.

•Belphie grabbed the hand that was holding the jacket and gently pried it away from their face.

•Mc grimaced with every movement and Belphie swore under his breath, hating that he was hurting them.

•once the jacket was fully gone his sleepy eyes widened and any left over drowsiness from earlier was completely gone.

•there was a large burn over their eye and the skin around it was pulling away.

•he realized that's where the smell was coming from.

•"What happened?"

•he repeated his question from earlier but this time there was no way anyone could ignore his threateningly low voice.

•"N-nothing, seriously, Im taking care of it. And I, I called Solomon and he's on, on his way to help. I'm okay."

•Belphie felt his heart drop as Mc said this.

•either they didnt trust him enough to let him help or they didnt love him enough to tell him what happened.

•he really hated both of those options.

•"I'll stay here with you until he shows up then."

•he'd feel even more awful if he brought it up and made Mc feel guilty on top of their physical pain though.

•he sat with them silently for a few minutes until Solomon showed up.

•Solomon took them back to Purgatory Hall to clean and patch up the burn.

•Belphie went with and held their hand as Solomon had to get rough to fully clean it.

•he stayed with them the whole time, swearing to never leave their side again.

•once they finally fell asleep he took it on himself to go after whoever dared to touch, let alone harm his human.

•they would pay.

•he wasn't nearly as cruel, or strong, as some of his older brothers,

•but he sure knew how to hold a grudge.

•and that promise of never leaving their side could hold off a few more hours...

#asmo obey me #beel obey me #levi obey me #obey me #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me headcanons #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me requests #headcanon requests #angst #tw burns #burns #cw burns #obey me angst

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wh6res · 3 years

Text

chase — renhyuck

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

tw bullying, violence, swearing, yandere themes, possessive themes, blood, weapons (a gun, a grenade), implied noncon, implied kidnapping, mentions of stalking

disc i dont condone this behavior

wc 5k

‏‏‎ ‎

29 hours before the annual purge

“hold her down—i said hold her down, idiot!”

putting everything into account, they saw you more like a glorified chew toy than an actual person.

they ruined your life simultaneously and it's ironic, that despite being sworn rivals, it seems you were their neutral ground—after one has had their own fun, you’re passed on to the other person so they can deliver that final, shattering blow that weakens your resolve.

it was meant to be that way because it had always been that way. you’re the unlucky loser that ignited the worse sides of both lee haechan and huang renjun.

they’re like oil and water; they don’t mix but with you, they found a compromise. stealing your lunch money, trashing your homework, quickies in between lectures. all of these should’ve been enough to give them a good power trip. but they’ve developed a hunger so severe that these past instances are but mere crumbs that hardly satisfy their cravings.

it was beyond exhausting, being caught in between two headstrong people that were unwilling to back down at any cost. their aggression and anger towards each other directly being channeled onto you as they shove and swing you around like some ragdoll.

you weren’t a bunch of kids, you knew that. you don’t cry and sob and say that it’s unfair, you hold your chin high and walk up to the guidance counselor’s office to report them for bullying. but you never should’ve underestimated the power of money and their respective families’ broad network of connections.

without a doubt, the empty promises for justice is what broke your heart the most. it breaks with every bruise, every tight grip, and every nasty name the people willingly turned a blind eye to.

it’s sad but it was a reality you taught yourself to get used to—the meek mouse learning how to evade the cats hot on her trail.

but you weren’t as lucky today.

“i am holding her down.”

a pair of lips comes in contact with your neck. its feathery and light at first until its biting down to mark you with his teeth. not too strong to draw blood, but enough to dent the surface of the skin.

haechan has an oral fixation. biting his lips. his nails. whenever you see him, he always has a lollipop on his mouth and if he doesn’t, he’s painting hickeys across your skin. you hated his oral fixation, especially when makeup and clothes proved useless to hide the marks he gives you.

“why run?” renjun asks you, slipping his fingers underneath your skirt as he kneels. “you know you have nowhere to hide in the campus.”

haechan snorts. “or anywhere else.”

it’s always the same thing. you go to school. you sit in your first period for thirty minutes until one of them shows up. then the other boy probably felt a gut instinct that he’s missing out on the fun. last time, it was an empty classroom in the abandoned left wing.

they like taking you there all the time, it was always dark, the blinds pulled and shut tight. not to mention it was incredibly dusty. but both male knew you’re afraid of the dark, exactly why it’s their favorite spot. but empty classrooms and supply closets are close seconds, too.

“you’re so pathetic. useless—only know how to whine like a fucking pornstar,” he quickly comments, feeling you arch against him when renjun’s tongue comes in contact with the pearl between your legs. “my cumdump.”

you feel a sharp exhale against your lower lips. you shudder. renjun clicks his tongue in annoyance. “can you shut up? you’re making my dick soft with all that talking.”

but haechan had ignored him completely, blissfully ignorant of the petite boy’s frustrations as he angles your head up to crash his lips onto yours. when he slightly pulls away, still playfully nibbling your bottom lip, what he said next made your blood run cold.

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6 hours before the annual purge

the price to pay for protection started rising again this year and you, much like your neighbors, are in a sense of turmoil. jamming the doors with cabinets and nailing your windows with wood is hardly enough to satisfy the gnawing feeling in your stomach. much less when you didn’t even have a weapon to wield other than a wooden bat and a cheap taser you bought on sale.

“its not like anyone will be coming for you, right?” the little girl says, touching the randomest stuff in your apartment. her name was naeun and she never really liked pink and sparkles like most girls her age, maybe that’s why she took a liking to you.

her mom works a 9 to 5 and her grandma stays with her on occasion. but the old lady loved to sleep, naeun said, so she gets the chance to slip out and come knocking on your door. you tried shooing her out of your apartment countless times but she’s stubborn.

she reminds you of yourself.

“well, i hope no one does.” you joked, putting on a turtleneck.

naeun’s mom doesn't like you as much as it is, but if you yourself let naeun see the bruises on your skin? you’d hate yourself forever. “now, come on little missy, go back to your grandma. i need to head over to the bank to settle my protection fees.”

“but you just said no one is going to come for you anyway,” she whines stomping towards the door. “mom already settled ours yesterday becase grammy forced her to. mommy said it was just a waste of money because who’d bother to rob us anyway?”

a memory flashes in your head. two boys who’ve sandwiched you between them in the dark of a fucking supply closet at uni. wandering hands, labored whispers, curt giggles, one pair of lips trailing up your neck while the other up your inner thigh.

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

you needed that protection. that was no slip up because haechan never makes mistakes. if he wanted to make you feel like some animal on the run after catching a whiff of trouble then he sure is doing a good job.

“hey! i think you just went someplace else there,” naeun says, nudging your side irritably to get your attention again.

you try forcing out a chuckle but it doesn't work, still deeply peeved by a memory from last week replaying vividly in your mind. if they ever mean what they meant (which you know they do) then this is now more than just trying to get through the night—you have to survive, prepare, and pray neither of them finds you.

“i think your grandma’s right in doing what she did, naeun. with humans, you’ll never know.”

and just like that naeun went silent, bid you goodbye, and disappeared behind the apartment door.

the bank was a quick walk from your apartment. you hardly broke much sweat and you even managed to stop by the grocery store to make some last-minute runs. the store’s nearly empty, deserted of any human being as the seconds slowly but surely ticked away. it was only when you walked past aisle seven did you pause, the hairs on your back standing as a slow chill crawled up your spine.

you look over your shoulder.

no one’s there.

you swallow, quickly looking down your watch to check the time as you made your way to counter. 3 hours before the annual purge. you needed to get your ass moving. you just need to grab one more thing and you’ll best be on your way.

you practically ran towards the dairy section and just as you spin around, strawberry ice cream pint in your hands, you jump as he appears before you in thin air and you drop whatever you’re holding.

“such a skittish little kitten,” renjun clicks his tongue, bending down to retrieve the ice cream on the floor. “here you go.”

you couldn’t even stare at him in the eye. your hands shook but it wasn’t because of the cold desert. now you get it. it’s his eyes you felt on you earlier, ever intrusive and piercing as he watched you from afar. was he stalking you?

“i didn’t quite catch a thank you, kitty.”

how foolish of you to think he’ll let you duck away without at least speaking to him, hm?

“thank… thank you?”

renjun grins, satisfied with your stuttering as he raises a hand to ruffle your hair—he ignores how you flinched away from him—before walking away with one hand in his coat pocket, whistling an eerie tune that can haunt your nightmares way after purge night.

“see you later, kitten.”

if it wasn’t the whistling that set you on edge or that clear promise of your doom—it’s the pack of zip ties and duct tape in his hands.‏‏‎ ‎

you were watching a rerun of your favorite morning reality tv when it cuts to the dreaded blue screen showing the flag of korea.

this is not a test.

this is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the south korean government.

weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the purge. all other weapons are restricted.

commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.

police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning until 7 am when the purge concludes.

may god be with you all.

you’ll never get used to the blaring siren that echoes through the empty streets. you can feel the floor vibrating and it travels throughout your whole body as the dread starts sinking deep into your skin.

you’ve already double checked all your windows and the front door. activated the security system provided by the bank. and you’ve also already charged your taser and have hammered down nails into your wooden bat. fine. if they wanted to scare and bully you into a panicked frenzy, it did its job but fuck no will you go down without a fight.

you shut all the lights, the apartment basking in the moonlight glow brought by the translucent curtains as you make your way to your bedroom, nearest the emergency exit just in case they barge through your front door by force.

at first, nothing happened. it was peaceful. tranquil. you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it was. both inside and outside. you were almost tempted to cover your mouth in case you were breathing too loud.

it’s silent. until it wasn’t.

your phone rings. it’s there, vibrating on your desk and you make long strides until you’re face to face with a set of numbers on your screen. an unregistered contact. there’s a debate inside your head whether to answer it or not, fingers hovering between the red and green button… until it eventually lands on the green.

you put it up to your ear, hands sweating as you wait with bated breath for the person on the other end to speak.

“kitten?”

it’s renjun. you don’t answer.

“i can hear you breathing, you know. i can’t wait to see you. we’ll have so much fun together. it’s sad that i have to share with that imbecile but better half of you than nothing of you, right?” he laughs and you feel a rush of anger surge through you. yet, you don’t bother to give him the satisfaction of a reply.

“i can see you’re angry, little kitty. while it’s cute and hot… don’t be. turn that frown upside down for me, wouldn’t you?”

but the blinds are drawn he couldn’t have seen you—

“you’re never going to get me, you fucking bastard. i’m not scared of you,” you sure do hope he can’t hear the tremble in your voice. “whatever you plan on doing to me, you’ll fail.”

you walk back slowly, eyes darting everywhere to look for a camera they could’ve installed in your room. they have connections and the money to do it so you won’t put it past them.

“oh, my stupid kitty. how can we fail when we already got a head start?”

the floorboard behind you creaks and before you could turn around, someone slams your head against the desk. you hear a crack, whether it’s the screen of your laptop or your nose, you couldn’t tell. the person is agile and silent as he maneuvers you to the ground and seals your lips with duct tape.

“after all,” haechan giggles. “you can’t lock out what’s already inside, kitten.”

your phone lands somewhere near your head. renjun has already dropped the call and the line goes silent.

squirming, you glared at the person on top of you. is this how you’re gonna go? you can’t deny, even you yourself find this pathetic. the security alarms you bought, the nail-studded bat, your taser, everything was all for naught? just because you didn’t check under your bed to make sure no one was there?

how long was haechan waiting? when naeun was still here? when you went out to buy groceries?

you thought it would be fear you’ll be feeling as you get caught but the emotion isn’t present at all. instead, it’s white hot anger that overrides your system and forces you to act without thinking—and it just fucking saved your life.

haechan always saw you as a vulnerable, sad little human being who couldn’t do shit on her own. it’s easy to underestimate you and that’s his first mistake.

the second is rather foolish—not tying your legs up first. it’s all too easy to slam your forehead against his before jerking your leg up to knee him in the balls.

you can see the anger in his eyes clear as day as you made a run for it to the kitchen, having come up with another escape plan—because surely if you went down the emergency exit, haechan would’ve caught up easily with those long legs after he’s recovered from your assault.

your nose was probably bleeding and your head is in the early stages of a full blown migraine, at least you were able to function enough to wobble your way towards the trash chute situated near the stove. you had cursed that chute the first day you moved in here (who would put a trash chute next to a fucking stove) but the day has come for you to thank the gods that you have that in your house.

going for a swim in all your neighbors’ trash is disgusting and unplanned (plus, falling down maybe six floors to your doom) but you’ll choose that over lee haechan and huang renjun any day.

“don’t you dare fucking think about it!”

you flashed him the middle finger to tick him off. a petty retaliation for all the bullshit he and renjun put you through but it felt good nonetheless.

“catch me if you fuckers can.”

and you were falling down the trash chute.‏‏‎ ‎

okay, yeah—maybe you should’ve thought it through before hurling yourself six floors down only for some half-filled dumpster to catch you but at least you’re still alive, right? alive and free, mind you. but you don’t have time to celebrate.

it smelled awful and you swear your knees and elbows are bruised but you scramble to climb out and run away as fast as you can.

it was only haechan inside your apartment. no sign of renjun but he did see you somehow and you have no doubt it was a camera inside that room. you didn’t have much time to ponder for how long they were installed in your room. it’s the least of your worries at the moment.

you’re outside.

during purge night.

even if you did manage to escape it felt more like a win than a lose, forced out of your own apartment in nothing but shorts and a shirt—heck, you don’t even have shoes on!—it felt like they won. again.

if you’re not going to die in the hands of some other wacko, you’ll die of hypothermia. how nice.

you didn’t know where you were running to, the only thing you knew was you need to get the hell out of this neighborhood as fast as you can. you didn’t want to run in alleyways and risk getting stabbed for fun. maybe the sewer system… oh, right. you don’t have your phone on you and it’ll probably be pitch black down there.

you really, truly, genuinely didn’t want to run so out in the open but it was the best you can impulsively come up with.

when you feel like you’ve put a reasonable distance between you and the apartment, you stop, hands resting flat on your knees as you crouch to catch a breath. just as quick the adrenaline appeared as fast as it had disappeared. you feel the weight and tension crushing your legs, not to mention you’re really starting to feel that headache settle after headbutting haechan.

you almost collapse against the brick wall.

the last person you ever thought you’ll see jumps out from the corner of the alleyway and you almost broke their nose.

until you saw who it was.

“NAEUN?”

their apartment got raided, some buffy sickos who they had the misfortune of breaking into their house to purge. luckily they got away, but after getting attacked on the streets, naeun got separated after she ran for her life just like you did. you can’t help but feel sorry for the little girl, who experienced the full effect of this godforsaken holiday.

this is bad. you can’t leave her but it’s tough enough to have to fend for yourself. you’re not so sure whether you can protect another human being but you’ll have to try.

“did your mom or grandma tell you anything? anything at all?” you ask, crouching to her eye level. “you said your mom knew the way… where? what do you mean?”

“mom said they’re providing refuge on the other side of town but it’s a 30-minute drive. walking would take longer.”

shit. you didn’t want to risk it. you don’t have a car and you’d rather die right here right now than walk another step out in the streets—

“who’s ‘they’?”

“i don’t… i don’t know. she didn’t say.”

you licked your chapped lips. you can’t trust what she’s saying, not when you didn’t even know these people. it’s too risky, not to mention you’re already running from not one, but two people.

naeun sits next to you against the bricked wall of the alley, looking down at her lap. “i’m scared,” she admits. you hear a tremble in her voice. “are mom and grammy de—”

“no,” you cut her off, pulling her tiny body against yours. when you feel her fists clutching your jacket, you swear to protect this girl with your life. “no, they’re not. i’m sure they’re heading there now to the refuge center just like we are.”

her head pokes out, looking up towards you. “we’re going? i thought you didn’t want to.”

you shake your head, wiping her tears. “well, it’s the one way for you to meet your mom and grammy, right?”‏‏‎ ‎

walking down the streets during purge night—man, this has got to be the most ballsy thing you’ve ever done after that one time you spat at renjun in the eye. you managed to find a litter of bodies way into thirty minutes of walking and you nearly sent naeun flying onto the asphalt with how hard you pushed her back. she couldn’t see this mess, you’d be damned to allow a nine-year-old walk right into psychological trauma.

you pocket a gun—you didn’t have enough courage to fight with a knife. you wiped the blood off using your shirt before shoving them down onto the garter of your shorts. you didn’t bother to take their shoes, none of them would’ve fit you anyway and it’ll just slow you down.

“hey, are you alright? is that blood—”

“it’s not mine, naeun. come on, let’s get moving.”

for two hours you walked towards this mysterious refuge center on the other side of town and both you and naeun managed to evade death three times.

the first attack: a group of high schoolers with their uniforms on. there were three of them, about your height, and while you weren’t responsible for the blood on your shirt, you’re not so sure about their lot. they looked crazy, excited even, but sloppy in the way they flung their knives and bats around. their first purge, you assumed, so it was fairly easy to take them down. a bullet to the head worked like a charm. naeun didn’t say anything when you urged her out of her hiding place to flee the scene. three bullets left.

the second attack: it was a surprise, one that got you stabbed in the shin of your right leg. it was a drunkard with a knife, you could smell him as you walked past by his slumped form in the sidewalk. he wasn’t moving, so you thought he was dead and it was poor judgement on your part. it’s pathetic getting injured this way, you thought, but at least it was you who faced the consequences and not naeun. two bullets left.

the third attack: two men but deadlier than the girls and the drunk. you didn’t get to reason out with either of them, not when they drove their cadillac at 140 miles per hour and nearly ran you over. a chill crept up your spine when you saw the bloody, naked women strapped down onto the hood. victims. you didn’t engage in any form of combat, it’s impossible, so you took naeun in your arms and ran straight to the back alleys. number of bullets remain the same.

three lucky strikes.

three times you’ve cheated death.

but time is up and your luck has run out.

“beating up a girl? what a coward, if you ask me,” you say, spitting out a tooth after someone kneed you in the face. you were in no position to say such things when they’ve got you busted up and bloody, left eye swollen after one hard punch.

naeun is nowhere to be seen.

good.

who knows what these assholes could’ve done to her. you told her to run so she better fucking run and make sure she lives through this nightmare.

another kick flies to your ribs and you lie sprawled on the dirty pavement of an alleyway—what an uncool way to die but at least you’ll die with a clear conscience.

you passed by city hall a few minutes ago. surely, the refuge center is not too far from there. naeun will make it safe. she’ll make it.

“what’s that look on her face? is she dead?”

another one scoffs. “well… if they’re after her then she’s as good as dead.”

you blacked out. ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

you hate the scent of disinfectant. it crawls up your nose and you hate how the stench is so strong you can taste it on your tongue. this isn’t heaven, not when you know you’re better off burning in hellfire.

unless you weren’t dead—your eyes shoot open, sitting up in haste as you clutch the thin blanket.

rows upon rows of the same cot you were lying on greets you. people injured, some standing, some sitting. there were people treating them, too, but they were in normal clothes so this can’t be a hospital. in fact, it looked like you’re in some warehouse, stacks of metal crates sealing off all entrances.

“it’s the refuge,” you whisper.

“you’re awake!” before you could even turn around, a body launches itself onto you and nearly makes the cot collapse. judging by the small frame and the pitchy voice—

“naeun, be careful!” her mother hisses but the girl in between your arms couldn’t care less. if she’d been an adult, she’d be squeezing the life out of you. when she pulls you closer, your healing ribs made a strike of pain surge through you.

you groan, bowing in the pain. distantly, you can hear the mother and daughter fighting and it was a banter you’ve never experienced with your own mom. it nearly made you tear up from the overwhelming wave of emotions you were feeling but all else disappears when a person tenderly grips your shoulder.

“thank you for taking care of my granddaughter.” the old lady was smiling appreciatively as she stared at you.

that was it. it could’ve been the happy ending to a gruesome and bloody storyline—it should’ve been, family of three reunites again and that was all thanks to you, right?

but even heroes have their own bad endings.

you heard the ticking of the grenade only seconds before it detonates. the other refugees didn’t even have the time to take cover as some closest to the sealed doors were sent flying so far back they crashed into the row of crates behind you.

you were severely injured, limping, ribs broken, and you only had one good eye to rely on—yet the first thing you thought of was protecting naeun. maybe the midget had a way of worming herself into your heart. but before you even push yourself off the cot, a figure emerges from the smoke.

petite and harmless, pretty as the tips of his hair grazed porcelain cheekbones. renjun’s eyes are as cold and calculating as can be and it’s the only thing that terrifies you to no end. when he opens his mouth, anger is hidden well underneath that calm tone.

“i’ll give you one minute to come here willingly.”

there’s no room for bargain, he needn’t when he knows you have absolutely nothing to offer him but yourself. he doesn’t finish his sentence but he trusts you’re smart enough to figure out the silent threat—come, or he’ll turn this place into a fucking bloodbath.

cornered and weak, defenseless. weird how they have a fixation for calling you ‘kitty’ when they’re the cats in this chase.

“naeun,” you whisper, trying to crane your neck to look for her in the filth of rocks and debris. please don’t be hurt.

you freeze when you feel a barrel pointing at your head. it was only there for seconds, haechan probably doesn’t have the guts to hurt you in any way permanently (unless it’s inflicted with his own hands and not through some other medium).

“ah, look. now we have matching black eyes,” he giggles like a madman, craning your neck up and the leather in his globes brings discomfort to your skin.

you see the way the other refugees looked at you—scum, dirt on their feet that brought about trouble in their lives. they were already badly hurt as it is and now, this happened? you don’t blame them.

not one man tried to stand up for you as haechan hauls you up and throws you down on renjun’s feet. your ribs were screaming and you’re cold and so, so afraid. with shaky fingers, you gestured towards the crowd. “just... please, don’t hurt them. they don’t have anything to do with this.”

renjun coos. such a cruel smirk for a pretty face. “aw, such an angel my darling is. always thinking of others instead of her own safety. funny because i don’t think you’ve ever done such a thing for me and haechan, though. i wonder why...”

the latter digs his heel in your injured legs and you scream as black starts to surround the corners of your vision. you tried to crane your neck back, pleading eyes wanting to look at the assaulter but renjun’s calloused hand is gripping your chin too tight.

“should we make a bargain, kitten?”

you stare deep into renjun’s eyes. he knows you don’t have anything left, he can see it in your glassy eyes, too wide and vulnerable. he’s doing this all for show, trying to make you even more desperate and self-aware of your eventual demise.

and you thought haechan was the only cunning one.

“what… what bargain?"

renjun practically gleams in pride. “i’ll let everyone walk free—even your precious little naeun—that’s her name, right? the little girl you’ve been protecting the whole night?—we’ll let her and everyone in this building walk away unharmed. that’s my bargain. you know how those work, right? now, you need to give me something i want.”

forcing you to offer yourself up to them.

what a brutal way to crush your pride.

choice wasn’t an option. if you don’t oblige and choose to run away on your own, they’ll kill them and still hunt you down. you gotta say, it was a tempting bargain that appealed to the sense of heroics in your heart. naturally, you have to choose where there is less blood shed. and as renjun lets go of your chin and lets you look over your shoulder to meet little naeun’s eyes, how she sobbed against her mother’s arms and shook her head and screamed…

“hurry, kitten. i don’t like to be kept waiting.”

you know what needs to be done.

“me. i’ll give you… me.”‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎

they stood playing a game of pool in the dead of night. it’s peaceful inside the estate while the city beyond rampaged and burned. they achieved their goal, had finally seen an end to a plan that had been set in motion for years. they’ve succeeded and the broken woman lying on the bed meters from the pool table is proof of their victory.

“don’t you just love it when an elaborate plan works like clockwork, injun?” he asks, voice like trickling honey as he hits number 9 with the cue ball.

the other, more petite male, rolls his eyes but doesn’t disagree. “oh, please, people like us always triumph, donghyuck. it’s nothing new. although i am surprised that little girl and her so-called “family” played along so well. almost had me fooled.”

“i agree. it's such a shame they had to go.”

‎

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#nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #renhyuck scenarios #renhyuck imagines #haechan imagines #renjun imagines #yandere haechan #yandere renjun #purge au #purge au nct dream #tw bullying #tw violence #tw purge au

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13thbaronzemo · 3 years

Text

THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES: PART 1

Baron Helmut Zemo/F!Reader

Rated E (Explicit)

You are the Sokovian custodian of Castle Zemo, which now belongs to the dissolved nation's neighbors, and the baron himself wants a tour after closing hours.

Disclaimer: Written before FatWS: Ep4 aired and set up some time after his separation from the protagonists and while on the run from the law.

Castle Zemo is one of the only historical Sokovian sites still standing and it now belongs to Czechia. After each of its Balkan neighbors had a slice, the once collapsing state had become more united than it had been in decades. And it had its people to thank for it. The Sokovian diaspora in the Czech Republic tried their best to preserve their eroding history by nourishing their new sovereign state’s interest in it. Among the people attempting to preserve Sokovian culture is the youngest conservator to ever walk the castle grounds: you.

While your age may have led many to assume that what you lacked in experience you made up for it in spirit. However, after asking the security staff to look through last night’s recordings to confirm your ghost sighting, they all seemed to agree that there is such a thing as ‘too much spirit’.

You know what you saw and it was Heinrich Zemo. He seemed to be standing still, almost as if he were posing for a painting. It just so happened that before him, handing illustrious and heavy off the wall was the portrait of the first baron, a golden crown adorning his royal purple hood. While the twelfth baron had died alongside the fourteenth while fleeing Novi Grad, there was nothing to chain his soul to that place anymore. In a universe filled with aliens, androids, and sorcerers, the world you live in might as well be haunted by restless spirits.

Haimo, the security guard and the only person besides yourself on the premises that night, had agreed to stay by your side for a second night. You even made him lend you a walkie-talkie and keep his on. They’ll be two witnesses tonight.

“I’m headed towards the west wing. Keep your eyes on the camera. Over.”

“Got it,” he said through the static. “Over.”

You were careful to walk on the carpet and skip any flimsy floorboard out of fear of spooking the spirit. A living person spooking a dead one? That was a concept you wouldn’t have considered before your first encounter with the twelfth baron had ended so briefly. You had run in the opposite direction when you saw the specter at the end of the hall and the sound of your heels hitting the wall made him disappear into the dark. Tonight, you’d be just as quiet as he was and stay hidden in the shadows.

As you neared the end of the hall, you spoke to him once more. “Haimo, what’s the time? Over”

“Ten to three, boss. Over.”

“I’ll turn it off, but you can’t take your eyes off the screen okay? Pay attention to the painting. Over.”

“Got it. Over.”

Behind the velvet ropes, between two tall windows, and out of the moon’s way, you stood as perfectly still as the painting. In the silver moonlight, the golden shine of the baron and his baroness’s jewels was as blinding as the real things. Just beyond the painting was the royal vault where the royal family jewels lay when they were not out on display. Tonight, you prayed it was Helmut I Zemo’s spirit that stalked the halls and not a burglar searching for the baron’s treasures.

You waited for ten more minutes, but it felt like ten hours. You had been on your feet all day, putting every golden bracelet and precious stone away in vaults and setting up checking every camera, and then double-checking the cameras in the west wing. After ten hours, you hear the floor creak.

Then, another ten hours later, the floor creaks again. However this was, alive or dead, they didn’t know the castle like you did. It couldn’t have been the first baron. Still, you held your breath as the specter you blinked and missed the other night was lit up by the moon tonight. With his face obscured by a royal purple hood and his stride as assured as a leader’s, you swore it had to be him. He stepped on almost every flimsy floorboard, so it couldn’t have been him. Still, you held your breath as he passed your hiding place and skipped the velvet ropes.

He stood there, as either man or spirit, almost as breathless and statuesque as you. And he folded his arms and raised his head, just as the painting did. The only thing missing was the crown atop his head. And his baroness. You tried not to blink, but when you inevitably did, he moved to remove his hood. No, not a hood. His mask. Dark hair and light skin shone in the moonlight. He looked opaque from where you were standing, not translucent at all. That didn’t make him look any less like the man in the painting himself, so you sucked in a breath.

When he moved again, it was to face the shadowy place where you stashed yourself away. He had heard you. Even as you covered your mouth and remained motionless, you had no hope of staying hidden any longer. He moved. Again. He was closing in on you. Oh, he looked so much like Helmut I that you were ready to kneel and ask for a pardon. Or, rather, ready to collapse due to the lack of air in your lungs. Instead of doing the former or the latter, you chose a third option: running to the other end of the corridor. Again.

You were within arm's reach when your heels hit the floor. As you weren't a sprinter or a runner and have been on your feet all day and the following night, you collapsed on the carpet. But, before the baron could catch up, you turned on the walkie-talkie: “Haimo, help me!”

“What? Boss, where are you? Are you still in the west wing? Over”

“Can’t you see me on camera? Can’t you see him?” You screamed, uncaring of human or spirit ears that might hear.

“I can’t see anybody, boss. There’s no movement in the west wing. Over.”

A hand came out of nowhere, covered in the same royal color, and yanked the walkie-talkie away from your fallen form. And what felt like the same slick material was wrapped around the back of your neck. “Tell your friend you’re safe and sound and not in the west wing.” The fabric that covered the fingers holding your head down felt frigid against your already chilled spine. Whatever he was, he wasn’t visible to anyone else but yourself. You had no choice but to comply and cleared your voice before shakily responding to reassure him of this: “Y-yes, milord.”

That official address caught your capturer off guard and you could’ve sworn he seemed to listen up on your neck. “Good.” Nevertheless, he pressed the button and bought the device closer.

“I was just fucking with you. I’m in the bathrooms. In the east wing. Over.”

“Not funny, boss.”

“You were right though,” you spoke, and let a shiver run through you as his fist tightened in the tassels of your hair. “There is no ghost. Over.”

“Have a good one, boss. Over.”

“You did good,” he spoke again, a whisper as chilling and powerful as the wind. “I would hate for us to be interrupted, wouldn’t you? Get up.”

Being allowed to walk on your legs again didn’t mean much when you were being guided by an iron grip. With his hand tangled up in your hair, head facing the floor, he walked you past the velvet ropes and right to the painting he still seemed to have walked out of.

“Blue blood doesn't make one immortal,” He started speaking, snatching you up and straightening your back so that you were facing the royal couple. Then, sliding a gloves hand up your side as the other one slid down your and onto your shoulder, he breathed into your ear from behind. “But it does give one the power to persevere beyond death. My ancestors all lived and died with their wealth, but my parents chose to secure their money in something a little more secure than a vault.” When you gasped, he grabbed onto your other shoulder, smoothing your sleeves. “Yes, I know you’ve been keeping the treasure tucked away, but the Czech state owns this land now. I thank my father every day for our German bank accounts, otherwise I’d be scrambling to survive.” His chest was hot against your back and even the hands holding onto your arms were warm, the heat of them seeping through the gloves. You never heard of a ghost whose touch feels like fire, but his presents, his form pressed against your own, made your spine shiver all the same. “I know it’s late, but I would like a tour. What do you say, my dear? Shall we start with the vault?”

“Yes, s-sir,” you swallowed a scream that threatened to rip out of your throat. The fear of his ripping it out himself was great, but what was greater was the chill of the castle overtaking you once he stepped away from you to give you enough space. Your fingers were trembling as they touched the frame, and it took you a second too long to find the notch in it. Once you did and everything clicked into place, you heard him chuckle behind you.

“Do you need help with that my dear?”

“Thank you, sir,” you struggled not to shake as his hand was placed atop of yours and you both pulled on the frame unlocking the painting from the wall like a door.

“What happened to ‘milord’?” He let go of you and you let go yourself, stepping toward the hidden vault while under his heated gaze. You could feel it at the back of your neck, the memory of his manhandling still lingering there. “I think I prefer it to ‘sir’.”

Introducing the combination, information only you were privy to, was proving to be more difficult under his scrutiny. It was as if the baron himself was watching your every move and you had better make your next one a good one. “Whatever you wish, milord.”

“I wish to see my family’s treasure,” he chuckled, but you couldn’t figure out why he was so amused. “Do you need help with this as well?”

“I got it,” you answered, agitated by his pressuring presence. “I mean,” you cleared your throat as you opened the vault door. “There’s no need to, milord.” Then, turning to him, you offered a small and curtsy on shaking legs.

“Very good, my dear. Now,” he caught you before you collapsed and looped your arm around his own. “What can you tell me about these?”

You looked towards the treasure inside, his dark smirk a bigger strain on your eyes than the shimmering gold in the silver moonlight.

“They were f-forged for the first baron Zemo, Helmut The First. The crown and the chain belonged to him, as you can see in the painting,” You skipped a beat as he squeezed you into the small space with no means to escape. You were so close, your breath fogged up the gold and dimmed the shine of the crown. “H-he often wore it atop his cawl.”

“The purple hood, you mean?” He asked and arrested you with the sight of his masked face. To keep you from creeping away, he let your arm escape the loop but captured your middle in another one. His chest, hot and hard, was against your back once more. “I know it’s not exactly the lord’s garb, but I believe I’ll look just as good in designer clothes. Would you mind if I…?”

“Whatever you wish, milord,” you whispered, all the wind having been knocked out of you as the warmth of his breath, filtered to the fabric of his mask, hit the back of your neck.

“I’m going to need your help this time around,” He removed the crown from the bust bringing it down so that you could easily grab it from his hands. “There is no mirror here, you see.”

“Of course,” you tried not to let it slip through your trembling fingers as he turned to face you fully.

“Of course what?”

“Of course, milord,” you corrected yourself and crowned him, the golden band fitting over the royal purple mask like his royal purple gloves.

“Heavy is the head that wears it, but the crown might be heavier,” he craned his neck right, then left, and, while you couldn’t see it, a smirk shimmered in his deep dark eyes.

You mirrored his mirth with a smile of your own, albeit weak. “It fits you, milord.”

“Father never let me wear it. I was but a boy back then,” he touched the sides of it where the band and his temple met. “It was summer the last time I saw it. We’d always come to the castle in August. The stone walls keeps the place cool in the summer months.”

“You had to grow into it.”

“Do you believe I’ve grown into it, my dear?” His hands were on your shoulders, stroking your skin through the shirt.

“Yes, milord.”

“Show me,” he squeezed down, fingers forceful now. “Kneel.”

He needn’t push you down, your knees already buckled at his command. Yet you were still shoved to the floor.

“Would you serve me?” He demanded, glowering down at you like the grand painting always would, with a dark demeanor and a golden crown atop a royal purple cawl.

“Yes, milord,” you breathed out the little air still in your lungs. And, determined to show your devotion to him, to the barony and all of Sokovian history, you fondled the front of his hands with two sweaty, unsure hands. His hands slid up your shoulder and smoothened back your hair, so you were more confident when you unclothed him.

“Is this how you plan to serve me?”

“Whatever you wish.” The harnessed of his crotch and the way he pushed it into your palms told you everything you needed to know. He was eager, but, as you shifted your trembling thigh, you realized that it was the both of you. “Lord Zemo.”

“I wish I were fucking that pretty little peasant mouth,” he heaved, heat coming off of his crotch as you uncovered it, pulling down his pants. Brushing back all the hair out of your eyes, he twisted it into a bun at the top of your head.

When you opened your mouth and rolled down your tongue like a red carpet, you finally freed his cock. As it landed on the saliva-slick surface, he sighed: "I wish you'd take my cock deep in your throat, as deep as it can go." Then, taking himself in his hand by the hilt, he slid inside. "And watch your teeth."

Your answer to this was to lock your lips around the head. It was hot, salty, and sweet, like a kiss stolen in a wet dream. Once you began suckling it, his hips started snapping. You've never heard of a ghost grunting before, but you've listened to men lose their sanity between a woman's lips. He was holding himself back, halting his hips, yet his words flowed freely

"Have you done this before, my dear? Have you ever served a man like this?" The man mirage called you closer, the hand at the bun bunched up atop your head forcing you forward. "Have you ever served a baron before?"

He already knew the answer, but you bobbed your head and blabbered a response anyway. No, you have not. You've served the barony for your entire custodian career, but this was as close that you've ever gotten to actual royalty. And it just so happened to be the baron himself, wearing gold and wrapped in the royal colors. Your knees hurt and so did your jaw, but you were his to do as he pleased.

"No, I didn't think so," he grunted, his voice gravely as he instructed you. "Breathe through your nose. I'm going to fuck your pretty little peasant face."

Holding onto his hips for support, you surrendered to him your entire skull. You couldn't even moan anymore, couldn't even move on your own. All you could do was gag each time his spongy, sweet, and salty cockhead hit the tender spot at the back of your throat. Through the tears, you saw him watching you through the eyes sockets, eyes searing through your soul. He watched himself wrecking you, fucking your face, and watched you being wrecked.

"Good girl," he growled, no longer a man or a ghost, but rather a lion. "That's a good girl." He was in a frenzy, fucking you fast and furiously. All you could do is take what was given to you and gargle. There was spit, there were tears, but the baron drove his dick into you like you were the most desirable damsel he's ever seen. "You serve me so well. Such a good girl. Such a good-"

All of a sudden, he stopped short of spilling down the throat he tore open. You felt the trepidation in the way it twitched, but it was ripped away from you as he retreated his cock from your mouth.

"Fuck."

As you coughed and blinked the tears away, you saw it in his hands, drowning in your drool, swollen and red. He squeezed down on it and seemed determined to contain it and all the come that was supposed to be swallowing.

"Get up," he heaved, his chest growing and shrinking under the security of his shirt. He was a man after all. "I want to you, but I don't want to fuck a peasant pussy," he held out his hand, the glove dirty with your drool and his precum. After you took it and stood on lame legs as he held onto you tight, he directed you to the diadem still in the vault. "I want to make love to a baroness."

Your mind was still in a haze when he sat the diadem atop your head. You couldn't make out your heavy breathing over the sound of his own. Still, you looked up, his crown as steady as his stare, and saw what must've been your reflection in the golden surface.

"There she is," he tilted your chin, thumb stroking the skin. "My beautiful baroness." As one handheld onto your face, the other snuck under your skirt and pushed your panties aside. You must've been so hot, so moist, you seeped through his gloves. Of course, you invited them in, those intrusive fingers, moaning when they moved to part your labia. "What is my lady's wish?"

"Make love to me," you whined, licking your lips at the thought of his tasty thick cock all up in your cunt. "My lord."

"Whatever you wish," he dropped your chin and lifted your leg. Then, as you tried to balance yourself on the other, he lifted it, hooking both of them around his hips.

You scrambled to secure your arms around his shoulders as he slammed you against the vault door. It hurt, but not nearly as much as the need burning in your core. You informed him of this pain through your panting, a pathetic performance, and only stopped when you felt the relief of him ramming it in. Hitching you up with his hands under your thighs, he caught his head on your pussy lips and then dropped you onto his dick.

"Oh, there she is," he mouthed at the side of your sweat-slick neck through his mask. "There's my pretty little pussy," his voice was strained as he slammed inside you over and over and over again. "I want to slip it on like a sleeve, slip it on whenever I'm homesick and live in it for a week."

"My Lord!"

"I'll take you far away from this dying place! Have you ever seen Paris? Madrid? Berlin? That's where we'll live! We'll travel like bandits and live like kings!"

You were delirious and he wasn't doing any better, drilling into the depths of you with a desperation only a living, breathing man could understand. The sound of your skins slapping against each other, the myriad of moans, they all echoed through the corridors of Castle Zemo and you hoped this haunting could go on for all eternity.

"M-my Lord, I'm going to-"

"Yes, come with me, milady! Come with me, my baroness!"

Following his orders was as natural to you as it was to the moon to rise every night. Squeezing your thighs tight and raising your face towards the stone skies, you came around Baron Zemo's cock and collapsed in his arms.

When he unwinded your legs from him like a belt, you were finally awake. The chill of the vault door made your spine shiver and there was a hot pool of come in your panties that threatened to spill down your thighs.

"Thank you for indulging in my fantasies, my dear." The chest your head was rearing against rumbled. "I hope I fulfilled all of yours."

"Baron Helmut III Zemo," you slurred out, too exhausted to enunciate each syllable. "You are supposed to be serving time in Germany-"

"Boss, where are you?" Haimo spoke through the static.

"That's your cue," the baron handed the device back to you. "Tell him you are on your way back and definitely not in the hands of a dashing criminal mastermind."

You searched his dark eyes behind the purple sockets. "Traveling like bandits? Living like kings?"

"Men say the damndest things while in the trawls of passion." He stroked your soaked cheek and spoke softly. "I'll be back tomorrow night to spin you another tale."

Blinking up at him, barely awake or alive, you answered Haimo. "I'm heading back. Over."

"Very good, my Lady. Very good."

#Baron Zemo #Helmut Zemo #Baron Zemo x Reader #Baron Zemo x You

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

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How about a canon divergence where wen qing doesn't bump into wwx but instead bumps into nhs and nmj. Would it be a tragedy or a fixit? Would nhs temper nmj's hatred for wens? Would nmj act honorably at seeing the old men and women and children doing hard labor or would he only see the clan he hates?

It was Nie Huaisang’s fault, probably. Someone tripped over someone else’s feet, and then he apologized and she apologized and then they both apologized, and then there was the whole “you go first, no you go first” dance and anyway eventually Nie Mingjue stormed over to yell at his younger brother for wasting time. He took one look at the ash-faced girl, caught her by the shoulder and said, “Aren’t you that Wen Qing? I used to see you at discussion conferences – what are you doing here?”

The whites of her eyes showed in her terror, and he scowled fiercely. “I don’t slay unarmed women or children outside of combat,” he said. “The question was literal – what are you doing here? The Jin sect said they resettled the remnants of the sects somewhere they wouldn’t make trouble.”

Wen Qing pressed her lips together, then couldn’t help herself and snarled, “If you call hard labor camps where everyone dies ‘resettled’ – they took away my baby brother! They took me to another city, I didn’t want to leave him, but I didn’t have a choice and when I returned…my brother’s as soft as yours – they’re going to kill him!”

Nie Mingjue’s scowl deepened, and his eyes flickered over to Nie Huaisang, the words ‘hard labor’ clearly ringing through his mind and struggling with his deep and abiding hatred for the Wen sect, the memories of Nie Huaisang being snatched away from him and sent to an indoctrination camp to be used as live bait. The very reminder of it made his face black in anger.

Nie Huaisang looked between the two of them and covered his face with a fan. “Dage,” he said, and his voice helped break through the haze of anger. “Maybe we should – check?”

It’s not like we trust the Jins, given the way they want to be the next Wens, he meant, and maybe there’s a little bit of Isn’t our sect’s guiding principle to stamp out evil wherever it’s encountered, human or not?

“Sect Leader Nie, I demand an explanation!” Jin Guangshan shouted. “You cannot barge into my territory, threaten my sect’s disciples, take away the prisoners won at war –”

“I’m not so blind as to tell the difference between captivity and torture unto death,” Nie Mingjue snarled in return, not even slightly moved. “Not only did I take the prisoners from Qiongqi Path, I demand you turn over every other one you have, no matter where –”

“Those were legitimately captured prisoners of war! We took them instead of spoils –”

“If the allocation of every penny matters so much to you, you may have the spoils seized by my Nie sect in exchange,” Nie Mingjue said, flicking his sleeve disdainfully. It couldn’t be more obvious what his implication was: that the Jin sect, despite all its riches, cared more for money than for honor.

Jin Guangshan’s eyes narrowed. “It’s most unlike you to get up in arms defending Wens, Sect Leader Nie; wasn’t it just yesterday that you called them all Wen-dogs and sought their utter destruction?”

Nie Mingjue sneered at him, but he continued, oily smile spreading on his face like a stain, “It couldn’t be that Sect Leader Nie has changed his implacable mind so quickly – perhaps it is the pressure of war on a man so young…you should take care for your health, make sure you’re not being unduly confused. People in your family die so very young, after all.”

“Enough nonsense,” Nie Mingjue said, eyes very nearly red in anger. “If my mind is so unclear, why did you choose to follow me during battle? When Wen Ruohan threatened, you dithered and delayed, and when there was no other choice but war, my blade was strong enough for you to hide behind, but when we have peace you rush to the front to claim a position that shouldn’t even exist – no one should be Chief Cultivator, Sect Leader Jin, no sect placing themselves and their own interests above another’s! But if the alternative is you, perhaps I should strive for it after all!”

“Is your brother actually going to try to be Chief Cultivator?” Wen Ning asked Nie Huaisang shyly; he was the only Wen currently inside the Unclean Realm, on account of needing heal his injuries. The remainder were all living in a small valley not far away where Nie sect cultivators kept a close watch.

Nie Mingjue hated injustice above all else, even Wens, but only by the smallest margin; in their new homes they were given food and water and medicine, but not freedom. Too many cultivators, male or female, had hidden themselves among the helpless to launch sneak attacks and assassinations; even children could carry a knife and swear to avenge their fallen parents.

Those like Wen Qing were watched most of all – she led one of the Supervision Offices that everyone had so hated, and she did nothing to stop them; she was indifferent to evil, and to Nie Mingjue that was very nearly the same as evil. It was only that the war had been officially ended that held back his hand; if they had still been at war, he would have executed her without so much as blinking an eye.

Still, Wen Qing had told Wen Ning that she was pleased with their current situation. A true prisoner of war camp, however strict, meant that they would be kept safe from all those who sought personal revenge, and Wen Ning couldn’t help but agree that the trade was worthwhile. The Jin had all but sold opportunities to those who wanted to get in a kick at their fallen bodies, just to say they’d been involved in the Sunshot Campaign; the Nie sect had those types of people, too, glaring and hateful, but the Sect Leader’s military discipline made them too afraid to do anything more than raise angry voices – and what were angry voices, compared to angry hands?

After all, if they’d come even a few shichen later – if Nie Mingjue hadn’t already known where the Wens were being kept, due to his position as sect leader, and been able to fly there on his sword at full speed – it would have been too late for him. Wen Ning didn’t even recall exactly what had happened, but two of them had been beating him and the chief inspector hadn’t stopped them, only told them to be sure to throw his body over the cliff when they were done with him…

“No, of course not,” Nie Huaisang said, pretending to be busy by his side. He had no skill at medicine, but it was a way to spend his time that his brother approved of and wouldn’t interrupt, so he came as often as he could. “He hates the idea, thinks it’s rotten to the core – like we’re all a bunch of sheep, needing a shepherd. No, he’s just saying it to annoy and distract Jin Guangshan. Besides, imagine if they made the position inheritable; that would make me the next one, and wouldn’t that be terrible for everyone?”

“The children young enough not to remember may join the Nie sect as guest disciples, if they wish,” Nie Mingjue said, his tone brooking no argument. “The adults will remain as they are.”

Wen Qing crossed her arms. “There aren’t many cultivators left among us, and it’s fine for all of those - they’d be happy to take up a life farming,” she said. “But those of us who are already on the path of cultivation should not be stymied –”

“You mean your brother, Wen Ning.” Nie Mingjue had some natural sympathy for her position, due to having his own weak-willed younger brother, but not very much. “No. In the end, he’s a Wen; we will not raise snakes to bite us later.”

“What wrong can you put on my brother’s shoulders beyond his surname?” she challenged. “What evil does he have?”

“Indifference to evil –”

“He was hardly indifferent!” she snapped, pushed beyond her limits. “I told him to do nothing, me, and yet he wouldn’t listen, time and time again. He kept Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng hidden after the destruction of the Lotus Pier, smuggled the latter out, even carried him out on his own back, and if that wasn’t enough, he collected what he could of the Jiang masters’ ashes for them – later, when Wei Wuxian asked me for help, he even –!”

She suddenly seemed to realize she’d said too much and shut her mouth.

Nie Mingjue looked at her thoughtfully. “You’ve already said this much,” he said. “There’s no point in stopping now. What did Wei Wuxian ask you to do?”

“Shh, don’t tell anyone I’m here,” Nie Huaisang said, gesturing for Wen Ning to join him in the closet where he was hiding.

Wen Ning, still a little uncomfortable in his new Nie robes, confusedly obeyed, even though he was still sweating from saber practice – he’d had to start over, alongside the children, but to his surprise he’d found that the straightforward brutality of the saber suited some secret resentful part hidden inside of him that wanted nothing more than to chop up everything he saw. “W-what’s going on? Why are we h-hiding? We’re in the Unclean Realm. What can harm us here?”

“Feelings,” Nie Huaisang said. “They’re the worst. My poor brother has to sit out there and listen to it directly, too – the burdens of being Sect Leader. I’m glad it’s not me.”

Wen Ning blinked. “Oh,” he said. “Are Wei-gongzi and Jiang-gongzi still fighting?”

“No, they’ve moved on to crying.”

“They were crying while they were fighting.”

“Yes, well, now they’ve moved to the just crying stage. There’s been lots of hugging, too; they stop for half a breath and then set each other off again, it’s awful. Can’t they be all manly and stoic like we Nie?”

Wen Ning gave Nie Huaisang a doubtful look.

“Well, me excluded, of course,” Nie Huaisang said with a laugh and a wave of his hand. “And anyway, even I only like crying when it’s going to get me something. Or out of something!”

Wen Ning suddenly felt as if he understood much more about his new Sect Leader’s endless frustrations with his younger brother. “But why are you hiding?” he asked.

“I have a reputation of avoiding work to maintain,” Nie Huaisang said, totally puzzlingly, but a few moments later there was a knock at the closet door.

“Huaisang, I know you’re in there. Get out of there and have an emergency,” Sect Leader Nie said. “Anything, as long as it requires my personal attention, and have it happen as soon as their sister, the young madam Jin, arrives – that’ll just set them all off again, especially as she’s pregnant.” A pause. “Do you think I can order Wen Qing to handle this as part of the terms of her parole?”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #wen qing #wen ning #my fic #my fics #Anonymous

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