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mooishbeam · 11 months

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『♡』 Treasures of the Fraud

♡ featuring: pantalone x f!reader

♡ summary: it's been forever since you've seen your friend, and as the hero of liyue, a new interruption has arisen. you pursue it, only to find memories awaiting you. wc: 9.1k+ (D:)

♡ cw/tw: long lonnggg fic, obsession, mentions of murder, mention of suicide, mentions of blood, manipulation, toxic pantalone, mean pantalone, possessive, spanking, degradation, mild praise, fingering, thigh riding, missionary, overstim, begging, edging, comeshot, pet names (darling, slut)

notes: helloooo!! ive been slow to get stuff out college is kicking my ass rn so sorry. not proofread so i apologize for any mistakes. I can't wait to have more time :) art by yion_yi on ig! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

12 years ago

“Come get me!”

The boy with inky curls spiraling down his back dips through trees, ducking under low hanging branches embellished with vibrant autumn foliage. Messy blends of pink and purple melt across the slowly bleeding sun carried into the night. His silhouette resembles that of a malevolent spirit peeking behind the boughs, leaping over tangled twigs and shallow ditches. His excited screeches signal you to chase after the leading direction. You’re both screaming and laughing down the undoubtedly dangerous shortcuts. If your mother knew about the adventurous risks you were taking at 13, you’d never leave the house again. Tag is a troubling game—despite the thousands of times you’ve played with him, you regularly end up being “it”. You don’t care about losing, though; having someone to call a friend is enough.

You turn into a clearing with columns of trees overseeing your small presence, hundreds of them. The colder night is rising, not a celestial body to shield. In this deep blue void, the leaves seem to be aggrieved at your interruption of some secret meeting, angry and smiling faces crumpling in the whispering wind. You spin around frantically, looking for signs or laughter, but neither reveal themself. It’s quiet besides the downy linger of grass. Your shoulders are snatched back and shaken to a rattling shock. You scream, and he laughs.

“Rahhh! Did I get you?” he jests. Your eyebrows narrow, and you push him lightly to a stumble.

“You scared me!”

“Hah, that’s the point. C’mon, it’s late. Let’s go.” He's scared too, swiftly grabbing your hand as you both brave the darkness back to the village.

“We should’ve been home a while ago” you say quietly. You feel the chill in your bones and press yourself closer to him.

“Yea.” He holds your hand tighter at the sound of a small rock bouncing down a steep hill.

“I had fun today. Let’s do this again tomorrow.”

“I have something to tell you.”

“Okay.”

“I’m moving in the morning” he states. It was nonchalant, but your stomach turns a churning sickness. One you can’t understand yet, it makes you uneasy.

“Oh. Okay, then.” It isn't okay, not in the slightest. But it had to be. Your best friend of 8 years looks at you, aiming to register the gravity of the situation. You both say nothing, but tears start to brim in your eyes in the silence. You wipe them with your arm.

“Will you miss me?” he asks.

“A lot.”

“I’ll miss you too. Lots and lots.” He sways your interlocking hands. You pass by vacant homes tattered and aged by abandonment, overgrown with invading ivy. Homeless reside, caring each other to warmth from the freezing draft. You were lucky to have a home in this little forgotten sector of Liyue. It's a small, unfortunate room, with holes in the roof that drips when it rains and bags over the windows to keep the heat in. The stove never works, and you share a bed with your mother, but every birthday she makes sure to save just enough for a slice of cake with one candle. There isn’t more you could ask for. Everyone in the village suffered from poverty but they made it work, sharing crops and dairy to persevere until the next year. That’s how you met him, sitting on a rock as your mother collected rations. You perform two pebbles in your hands, mumbling sea shanties while imagining voyage on a grueling journey—he sat next to you.

“Those aren’t dolls. They’re rocks.”

“You’re a rock” you retorted.

“No, I’m not.”

“Do you want to be a rock?”

“...That’d be kinda cool.” You gave him a pile of pebbles, and he joined the trip.

You’re getting closer to the village, still processing who you’ll play with once he’s gone. You glance at him, he’s spaced out in a faraway stare. You crave the power to read minds.

“Can we talk about something? I’m getting sad” you sniffle.

“What should be talk about?”

“What are you going to do after you move?”

“I’m gonna be super rich” he assures, looking up at the starless sky as if a meteor would shoot across and grant his wish. “What about you?”

“I’m going to save the world” you proclaim.

“Cool. I hope you do.”

“Me too.”

You arrive at your makeshift door drawn together with scraps of wood and twisted rope for hinges. A dim candle glimmers inside, most likely your vexed mother waiting for your tardily return. He makes space for your entry, and you undo your hands for the last time. Before you go, he snatches your wrist. His eyes are foggy, cheeks an anxious tinge of pink. He isn’t sure what he’s feeling, but the strings in his heart are tense. His mouth shapes to say something, but nothing returns.

“Yeah?”

“...I... I’ll really miss you a lot” he whispers with a lump in his throat.

“Then don’t forget me, okay?”

“I won’t.”

“You promise?” you say and raise your pinky towards him. He curls around it. “I promise.”

“Good. By the way, you’re it now.”

“I’ll get you back when I see you again!” he chuckles. You bid your goodbyes, unaware that it would mark the unforeseen conclusion.

Leaves crunch under your feet as you make your leisurely traverse to Liyue Harbor. It’s just before sunrise and you finished helping the elderly in Qingce Village carry copious amounts of heavy produce to their homes. The thankful candies from seniors' jingle in your pocket as you stretch your weary arms. Your mom offered to cook, but you're determined to locate the best commissions Katheryne had before afternoon. “Maybe I’ll pick up some rice buns” you think out loud at the rumble of your growing appetite. You still had a long way to go before you got to the harbor.

This was your new normal. After your thundering battle with Ningguang and Keqing against Osial, you became an example of Liyue’s triumph. You also became more aware of Fatui tactics, wiping out their swarms with the raging fury of your pneuma and swinging vision. Days of grueling bloodshed resulted in your victory, cementing you as the lionheart of Liyue. Beat up and bruised, the only request you made after your fight was a hot meal and a place for your mom to retire. They delivered both, and you used your recent hero status to provide help to the villagers where needed, be it casual favors or ruthless assault on Fatui agents. You were neither rich nor poor, and lived off the land and kindness of the Liyue Qixing. They often suggested you focus on less mundane tasks, but to you, the most vulnerable age groups warranted priority. There was something about the lighthearted innocent squeals of children and mellow grandparents rocking in their wooden chairs that made you protective to an almost volatile extent.

Bustling interactions of trade and commerce carry through the wind as you enter the harbor—a sound that’s brought you peace for years. The smell of food vendors has you drooling instantly. As you devour the complimentary rice bun, you feel the yank of a little hand on your skirt. You look down and a boy with brown hair searches for familiarity in your face. You recognize him, babysitting him numerous times. You kneel and pat his head, but he doesn’t react or move.

“Hey, what’s up? Where are your parents?” you question, briefly scanning your immediate area for his family. He’s hesitant to speak, as if he can’t find the panicked words, and rushes into your arms. You hug him instinctively and let him sniffle into your shoulder. You pick him up in your grasp and raise his head with your other hand so that he’ll hopefully be open to your compassion.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” The boy wipes his chubby tomato-red face. “Grandma is on the floor, what do I do?” You quell your rising nerves to suppress his alarm and speak calmly.

“Where is she?”

Speed walking towards the destination, the commotion of a small crowd surrounds a kneeling woman in the distance. She’s on her sun-spotted hands and knees, wailing for some bygone Archon. “Grandma!” he yells and jumps out of your arms. You run after him, relieved that the worst case scenario hadn’t occurred. You push through the group and get eye level with her, forehead pressed to the ground spouting religious scripture.

“Are you okay? Do you need medical assistance?” Wise sunken eyes wrinkled with age and torn by tragedy stick to your heart. Her feeble hands encapsulate yours, and tears stream down her cheeks. “They took my baby!” she rasps, rocking back and forth. “Who did?” you ask, and she weeps harder. “They took her memory...my baby, my daughter!” You support her weight and lift her hunched figure off the pavement. “What did they look like, ma’am?”

“A black hood...red mask” she recalls shakily. Instantly miscellaneous chatter ensues. They whisper nervously in each other's ears, he who shall not be named steals their voices. “Fatui probably got ‘er” you hear the mumble of one. Fatui. Your blood boils at the word, and you direct your view to the shrinking man with hands in his pockets. “‘He’ got all of us” he scoffs. “Did they hurt you guys, too?” you ask, and they stare. They’re pained but accepting.

“500,000 mora.”

“194,000 for me.”

They list off their debt one by one, and you’re horrified at the accumulating number. They seem to endure, however; no longer phased by the incurable tally haunting their lives. “H-how are you paying any of this?”

“We can’t. It adds up. Interest, late payments, it always does. So, we give everything, and ‘he’ takes everything, until we have nothing left. We die poor without a possession to our name” a woman sighs. As a child, you heard of the loan sharks that purposely fed false promises to the poor, and once they were reeled in, charged insurmountable payments to blackmail—it was the origin story of most people in your birthplace. Your soul aches for them, but is there anything you can do?

“...I’ll help you, all of you. I’m sure I can-”

Ningguang arrives. She's a nurturing figure to you, the kind that asks if you’ve been eating well and politely scolds you. “What happened?” You lead the tired elder to the Jade Chamber, and she tells her story through choked sobs. You didn’t expect Keqing to already be there, arms folded and turned away from the situation. Ningguang can barely glance at the woman.

“They stormed my home and took my jewelry and belongings. They took the pendant my daughter gave me; it had her face in it. Archons give me strength, my baby! I can’t afford it; I have nothing!” she quakes. You rub her back and Ningguang nods, listening—you can’t help but notice the anxiety blooming on her abstracted face. They take her through the process and once she leaves, Ningguang and Keqing look at each other with a silent understanding. The room is eerily quiet, and Ningguang paces back and forth in front of the intel wall contemplating an uncertain danger. You fumble with your thumbs.

“What are we going to do about this?” you wonder. Keqing clears her throat loudly, attracting the attention of Ningguang. She looks at you, and sighs deeply. “We already know about this issue.”

Your ears perk up. “Great, so how can I help?”

“By doing nothing, (Y/N)” Keqing says.

“...What?”

“I have eyes everywhere; I’ve known for a long time. The Fatui are not people to be taken lightly, especially the harbingers. A few of their skirmishers were caught trading exotic goods and taxing medicine at high prices, on top of extorting the impoverished regions.” Ningguang points to one of the many Fatui exclusive headquarters on the wall. “Pantalone is the richest man in Teyvat, he has more political influence than anyone can imagine, and they answer to him. We can’t risk getting involved with this. They’ve brought this upon themselves, and unfortunately, they must deal with the consequences.”

You can’t accept this response. How can they just desert them? It doesn’t comprehend in your naïvity—you scold yourself for not spotting the signs sooner, furrowing your brows and looking at them with distaste. “I expected this. You shouldn’t have said anything” Keqing chides. “...Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped before-”

“You’re the last person I wanted to know about this” Ningguang interrupts. Your anger feels misplaced, and you bite your lip in restraint. She sits next to you and offers fleeting comfort with a graceful hand on yours. “You’re quite the reactionary type. In due time, this will be sorted. But right now, I need you to calm down, and trust me.” It sounds desperate, you know you shouldn’t go looking for answers, but a snagging thread pulls at the back of your consciousness, all too convincing. You bounce your leg. “You should want revenge just as much as me. Where we came from, where they end up, it isn’t fair.”

“You know I do, more than anything. But we must handle this with care, before too many people get hurt. I’m doing this for the betterment of Liyue as a whole. It’s not easy to make these decisions.”

“We can’t just go around serving justice, there’s laws we have to act with” Keqing adds. You don’t reply and stand up abruptly to leave. The worried Tianquan grabs your wrist one last time. “Promise me you won’t make a mistake, (Y/N). I’m trying to protect you” she pleads.

“I promise. Thank you.” You flash a half genuine smile, already planning to rebel against her wishes.

Who exactly is ‘he’—Pantalone. You don’t even know where to start looking. Too many headquarters, infinite possibilities. The best way you have to find him is through Fatui agents.

You start taking up odd jobs late in the evening, scouring for the possibility that a fatui agent might fall into your hands. Though you considered playing the part of an impoverished villager taking out a loan at Northland Bank, it didn’t guarantee that you’d meet Pantalone in the flesh—it’s more likely that would raise unnecessary suspicion in the process. It’s awkward at first, seeing the hero of Liyue fish on the dock for petty change throughout the night. As you do, the malicious fire in your eyes burns bright at the occasional voice in chill silence. Your vision glows as you toss the hunting knife between your nimble digits. Listening closely to conversations, hoping that one might be unguarded enough to slip up, but nothing of the sort appears—not even the boldness of Fatui skirmishers enables them to divulge secrets under the baleful existence of Celestia.

The moon illuminates sweetly on the tranquil waters lulling you to drowse. You hadn’t heard much since the start of your escapade. A fishing pole is weak in your resistless hold, and you’ve evidently given up on the idea of portraying the hardworking fisherman tonight. You vowed to help the people of Liyue, but justice was seemingly unfeasible. Maybe a direct approach? Should I ambush their headquarters? More so a suicide mission, you’d have no luck achieving that. Just as you’re about to leave, the crunch of withering grass straightens your posture. You make yourself hidden with a burst of energy and slouch behind the bushes as a Fatui pyro agent charges along the route. Through the glutted leaves obstructing your vision, you can just make out the heavy bag on his shoulder and jagged blade waiting restlessly on the other. His stride points towards Qingce Village. You hold your breath disguising yourself with the scenery and allow him to take a few feet between you before you begin following him. He’s rather shifty, those veiled eyes darting back and forth at the lightest noise. You’re careful to glide behind trees, moving with the heartbeat of the wind and taking advantage of the various melody's nature offers. You suck in a breath and duck behind a boulder a few inches too close, and his head snaps in your direction. The feeling of being watched besets him, but with no way to prove it and time running out, he secures his knife for the hypothetical ambush, and makes haste towards the target. Turning a tree, you watch as the pyro wielder knocks on the house of a small worn cottage. A short stocky man appears, shading half his body behind the door.

“H-hello...” you hear faintly. The Fatui keeps his hand firm on the door, one boot propped under the hinge. He presents the flaming knife loosely as he towers over the man. “We’ve given you time.” You were sure now that he's working for Pantalone.

“I don’t have it. P-please, if you could just give me some more-” He slams his fist against the wood, a resounding thump shakes the home. The man cowers. “Give me everything you have. The Regrator won’t wait any long-”

A small rock flies past his mask, skidding on the ground until it comes to a stop. He glares in the direction of the tree you’re hiding behind. You have no plan, nothing but the distracting impulse to stop the assailant from attacking. “Stay here” he commands, and stalks towards you. His slow footsteps get increasingly louder, playful stomps toying with your obvious whereabouts. He twirls the razor-sharp knife, and as he sharply peeks around the corner, you’re nowhere to be found. “Here, kitty kitty” he taunts, spinning towards the lake, then the village grounds for footprints. He severs the air aimlessly in mirth, believing some amateur fighter came to challenge him. As he monitors the tracks under you, you drop down from the wiry branches. Legs wrap tight around his neck, and you catch hold of his hood trying to pull his mask off. He gags but he’s too quick, throwing off your steadiness as he slams your spine on the grass. He whips around to take a stab at your chest, but you roll away guarding the vital arteries. You kick him in the crotch, and he recoils giving you ample time to stand.

You can’t feel the wet laceration dripping down your abdomen as you take a slash at his throat with your weapon, infused with elemental energy. He leans back and meets your strike. You trade blows, the strength of your smite bursting sparks of light above the scratches and bruises. Your wrist burns with the unmoving knives stumbling you. He begins to manifest blazing knives circling his figure, and you jump back from the singing cut melting the cloth. You wipe the dried blood from your mouth, and in the blink of an eye, he disappears. Suddenly, red auras similar to the pyro agent surround you. One by one, the clones charge at you, and you parry their overhead onslaught. Something is different about the last clone, your vision revealing a brighter outline than the others. When the next clone attacks, as you counter you pretend to fall for his trick. With your eyes on the other, he immediately passes through the black fog to deal the killing blow. You’re quicker this time and heave a heavy tear into his chest. Crimson splatters the grass, it shatters his element and rips open the robe. You tackle him on the dirt and wrestle until you kick his weapon away. Your knee digs into his back, and he can barely breathe with his arm locked behind him and knife rigid against his neck. He ttempts to swing at you, but you wrench his arm tighter and slice into his skin just enough to draw blood.

“Fuck. Okay!” he wheezes. “Where is Pantalone?”

“I don’t know what you’re- shit!” You’ve lost patience long ago and twist his arm to dislocate the shoulder. He lets out a blood curdling scream thrashing in pain—you tug hard and focus him. “Shut up and answer my question. Where is Pantalone?” you demand. He hisses in pain and coughs up phlegm mixing with reddening soil. “Kill me.”

“Just tell me and I’ll let you go.”

“I’m a dead man, either way.” he rasps and hangs his head waiting for the execution. You grit your teeth; a drop of guilt leaves a bad taste as you thwack the pressure point on his neck that forces him unconscious. You glance at the bag he left and limp over to rummage through the contents. Useless papers crumple under stolen items, but one note catches your eye. Presumably a to-do list, you read to the bottom. A list of homes, goods on standby exchanges—at the bottom of those, a rendezvous point:

Report back- Yilong Bank, Liyue

You rest in a plot of prickly bushes and leave in the morning after patching yourself up. You couldn’t stop now, not when you were this close to facing him. You soothe your body from the twigs prodding you all night, and check the wound suppressed by gauze. It’s a light scar now, apparent after bathing in the warm water on the outskirts of Qingce. You contemplated telling Ningguang about what occurred, but imagining the look on her face once she knew kept you moving.

Tucking your vision where it can’t be viewed, you take a waverider to Yilong Port into the afternoon. You concoct a half-baked scheme, one that relies on every scenario being perfect to a tee. Unreliable, but probably your only chance. The plan amounts to scaling the building and breaking in through the office window, snatching everything owned by the villagers and breaking out before anyone notices. Easy in your capabilities, but you have no idea what the building looks like, nor do you know where the office is. The man driving wears all black, an outfit that stands out from the rest of the region. He stares at you blankly, and once you’re aware, you meet eyes. His smile is uncanny, stretching across his face with an abnormal friendliness.

“Is this your first time at the port?” he asks, finger tapping the wheel. Be it sleep deprivation or ignorance; you don’t recognize red flags in his behavior. You smile at the courteous face. “Yeah, the weather’s beautiful out here.”

“Mhm, hot weather up here. On vacation?”

“Nah, I have business here.” The minuscule edge of your vision catches in the light. He homes in on the passing twinkle. You wonder why his eyes widen momentarily, and his finger starts to tap methodically, as if memorizing a coded pattern.

“Business...what kind?”

“Oh...I have some items to trade.” You close off your answers feeling that you’ve said too much. He subsides with a stale expression. “If you’re looking to trade, you might find luck at Yilong Bank” he utters monotonously.

“And where is that?” You feign disinterest, but victory is too loud on your tongue.

“Up the mountain.” The waverider halts at the harbor, and he turns his head away from you unusually cold, akin to a mechanical bot shutting down. “Welcome to Yilong Port.”

You make yourself invisible in the crowd and wait for nightfall. People still roam the port along with Fatui monitoring the front of the bank, which gives you leeway to blend in as you find passage around the back of the mountain. It’s a steep, dark incline jutted with irregular jagged stones. The imposing size of the climb tangles knots in your stomach, and you wipe the persistent sweat on your top. In one huge leap, you latch onto a craggy indent, and begin your ascension.

Your legs feel like jelly with each contact of the unforgiving breeze. You sway alongside the spirit of anemo and swallow your anxiety before leaping to the next rock. Shoes plant into rock and nails excavate fresh cobble on the next jump. By the time you’ve realized, you’re already up most of the mountain. You tug yourself even with the land as a barreling gust of wind goads your glance to the ground, kilometers beneath you. Your breath stills, and for a second dizziness overtakes your nerves at the thought of slipping. I could die, one mistake and I’m dead. You focus, and spring to the next piece. Without warning, rock gives way into pebbles at the weight of your foot. You nearly plunge, but anchor onto the small bump out with one hand. You’re dangling off the edge, playing with death while you fortify your body. Hyperventilation makes your heartbeat thrum incessantly and stress palpitates tired muscles; If you didn't have your vision, you would’ve fainted to your demise. You bite the bullet, push your heels in and persevere through the hurdles. The next thing you clutch is malleable in your palm. You vault over the cliff, the smell of dew is overwhelming. The back of the bank—the end goal—is visible.

One Fatui member remains in the front. You scale up the building effortlessly, nothing compared to the hell you just went through. Shifting window to window, your eyes land on the pitch-black darkness of the room at the top of the building. An ideal glow casts on the fraction of precious gold resting on a coffee table. This has to be it. You slink through the window soundlessly, and land on the balls of your feet. Analyzing the dish, you don’t discern the pendant. You can faintly identify some bookshelves near the dish, and tiptoe further inside. You creep around luxury sofas, and squint at the embellished glass case next to the door, containing all manner of jewelry and valuable possessions. You won; this was it. You scurry to it, moving with abrupt carelessness. One more step.

Click

The fireplace you didn’t heed is set aflame. It flickers sneering shadows on the opposite wall and brightens the case. You pause and hope. There’s a confining silence stirring in the room, like someone is with you. The case is visible now, and so is the key to opening it.

You fell into a trap.

“Looks like I have a little thief on my hands.”

A bittersweet voice in the sable, reminiscent of rich dark chocolate, rolls off the room. He steps out obscurity behind his desk and your eyes adjust, revealing the tight black turtleneck compressing his willowy torso and gloves adorned with silver rings. You can’t see the upper part of his face, but the chains of his glasses hang in front of that duping smile. You expected the Fatui harbinger to be on the stronger side, physically intimidating. It’s not physical, but you feel a certain fear boiling in your body. He’s not terrifying, but you tremble. His presence makes your hair stand and sends waves of goosebumps up your arms. You can’t find the will to move your wobbly legs. His charmed laugh rings in your ears and causes you to hold your breath. He has no vision; you shouldn’t be afraid. You could take him on easily, why can’t you fight?

“Hello, honored hero of Liyue” the headless man taunts. It makes it worse that he knows who you are. How long had he known you were coming? Was your plan doomed from the beginning? Your feet are stuck in molasses as your fight or flight shuts down at the man before you.

“Now, tell me. What is the little thief doing, barging into my office to take the possessions I worked so hard for? Not very heroic of you, If I may say.” There’s power in his stature—you forget how to speak. He holds his palm out to you. Tangled between his fingers, is the ornate golden pendant you’d been searching for, a woman’s face in the frame. Your eyes widen, and the sweet familiar curve of his lips stretches in amusement.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” The plod of low-heeled boots accompanies unveiled darkness, and you can observe his entirety. Amethyst eyes drunk with an orchid hue pool into your being. Lazy curls brush against his glasses and kiss his porcelain skin. He’s beautiful, a calm enticing rip current that sweeps you with immeasurable pressure before you can pull yourself out. He leans on the desk, observing the chain halfheartedly. If you weren’t careful, you’d mistake the look on his face for genuine kindness; you’d drown, just like he craved. Nonetheless, you can’t shake the emotion his smile grants.

“Yes. That’s all I need, and I won’t bother you again” you whisper meekly, hoping that he’d let you go with the pendant in a spur of forgiveness. The jest in his eyes says something different.

“Come get it.”

Come get it. Your mind begins to piece the man into a stage of your life you’d forgotten. It can’t be him. Memory tells intrusive truth in short flashes. Inky curls spiraling in front of you as you chase. He was consistently miles ahead of you. It was irrelevant how far apart you were; he’d always find you. That big, curving smile for every match he won. Purple eyes glancing back at yours; the same ones that withheld tears when you said goodbye.

“Come get me!”

Tears stream down your eyes for the friend you thought you’d never see again. Childhood laughter bleeds into his current cat-like conniving snicker, and you gaze at his face.

“I... remember you” you choke. He looks up without a smile, perceiving an unexpected thought, and meets your eyes. There’s a hint of affection in the warm smile beaming on his face. “My my, (Y/N). You have quite the memory.”

You’re motionless, full of something that catches in your lungs. This isn’t the triumph you wanted, and now that you’re face to face you feel powerless. He must’ve known the entire time. Watching you fight and work alone, sending Fatui to roam in Liyue, all done to toy with you. Your lip quivers, swelling in your already deafening heartbeat.

“How long...” you utter. He inquires with the tilt of his head.

“How long have you been messing with me?” Your eyes adhere to the floor, pride that won’t permit you to shed misery for Pantalone. He drinks in your resistant frame, the kind he desires to break; perhaps this game of cat and mouse isn’t done, after all.

“This hurts me too, (Y/N). I wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t so…persistent.” Your confusion spills over in shaky, weak huffs. You can’t maintain your composure, and make yourself first to oppose the authoritative man on his own territory.

“How could you do this to anyone? We grew up poor!” You shout with balling fists.

“It’s inefficient to dwell on the past” he replies with gentle cadence and languid grace unrepresentative of his cruel tactics. You nearly regret raising your voice.

“These people are at their wits end and you’re taking advantage of them” you chide. He slowly paces towards you. Pantalone looks down on you from height disparity, but the royal glower pities you, judges worth you can’t see.

“Driven by emotions, are you that simple? You presumed that if you stormed in here, and professed a touching story, that I would suddenly see the error in my methods?” You’re not sure what you’re here for anymore or why you haven’t left yet. Subconscious urges can't determine if they should slap or hug the man inching towards you. “I simply enforce contracts and exchanges. No one can be swindled by a debt accreted on their own.”

“No one asks to be poor either” you interject. Pantalone’s a foot away from you now, analyzing your reactions to his personal entertainment. He recalls the blurry past—the pranks you pulled together that ultimately failed from your loud hurried sneakiness tripping to alert the farmers, helping out for loose change so that you’d split a snack between each other that wasn’t big enough to share, gazing at the twinkling night imagining a distant future—you changed and stayed the same, but he keeps wanting more.

“Weigh the odds. They either die impoverished or live by passage of loans. I merely provide a service. Does that make me so cruel?” You can’t find an answer.

“You’ll always be my friend, but I need it back. It can’t be much to forgive someone’s debt” you plead.

“You still consider me a friend?”

“I think…you’re hurt. And you’re trying to heal. We all are. I know I’ve dealt with a lot as I’ve gotten older and I think you have, too. Power corrupts even the best people in this world, so maybe you’re not a bad person. But you’re doing bad things, and this isn’t the right way to get better.”

Pantalone is quiet for a few long moments. His hands web his face, but you can clearly see the pearly fangs in his open-mouthed smirk. Then he laughs—dulcet and mocking, it lingers for too long as he throws his head back and relishes the obtuse notion. He gazes with insulting compassion and stalks towards you.

“Incredibly…. gullible. Mora is the pathway to all endeavors. Devoid of gnosis or divine knowledge, wealth has rendered me impervious to control. Suffering and destitution only manifest if I will it. I am the guise of a false god, an emblem of achievement.” It’s borderline delusional the way he regards himself, arms moving in theatric grandeur, the star of his own opera.

“Does that make you feel good? Stepping on the backs of the community that raised you, and abandoning them because they chose not to be influenced by greed?” Pantalone towers over you. His fingers brush light against your sensitive ears, trail to your clenched jaw, and finally cup your frustrated cheeks with the cradle of a long-lost lover.

“It does, in fact. I’m not easily swayed by ridiculous optimism, that’s why I’m at the top. You’ve devoted your blood and tears to a region that will succumb to adversity in your absence. Is that not a pointless feat?”

“So what? That doesn’t mean we just don’t help people. You have nothing without the Fatui, you’re a pawn just like the others” you retort. He brings his lips close to the shell of your ear, and his breath hot on the untouched skin drags a tingle up your spine.

“And what do you know about the Fatui?” he whispers.

“I know enough. You’re all disgusting.” He huffs out his nose.

“Disgusting isn’t the right word. I’d say...opportunists.” Pantalone backs up, sliding his hand up your chin and tilting your attention to the intense glint. “But you’re clever, I’ll give you that. If only you were clever enough to know your place.” You'd forgotten you were acting out of line. You refocus your mindset to negotiation.

“I’ll do anything you ask for the debt. Please, just give it back.” The word “anything” evokes a malicious yearning—so forthcoming without understanding the implications of “anything”, of eternity. He caresses your cheek.

“Anything, hm? Even if I said to give up being a hero for good? Would you still call yourself a heroic traveler if you weren’t allowed to travel or adventure as you please?” he teases. Your mouth opens to refute, but you bite your bottom lip instead. Pantalone walks back to his desk and leans while dangling the golden chain. Now that he’s far, the invading space between you two shows how insignificant you are in this luxury palace.

“Your resolve moves me. Consider this; make an exchange with me, and I’ll guarantee not only her debt, but the debt of all residents in Liyue forgiven” Your face instantly lights up, ready to accept it without thinking.

“What is it?” you ask.

“In exchange for regional loan forgiveness, I want you.”

“...What?”

“I want everything you have. It’s the fairest exchange I can make. Your obedience, your loyalty, and your body.”

The choice turns in your frontal lobe. You can’t fathom giving yourself to a man, let alone a Fatui harbinger. It’s unbecoming of a hero to lie with the enemy.

“Absolutely not” you assure.

“Alright. Then allow their village to be reduced to nothing.” No, wait. “You may leave. However, if you do, you’ll cause great misfortune to that woman and her struggling family” You play into his covet so smoothly as you stand in the center of the room, reluctant to leave.

“I’m not a complete monster, so I’ll give you 5 seconds to make a choice.” He sways the pendant in his hand like the transient time of an hourglass. 5 seconds, all you have to sign your life away.

“4.”

What if no one ever sees you again? What’s the point of sacrificing your happiness and freedom, are the people of Liyue truly worth it?

“3.”

You could threaten him, take him hostage so that a harbinger might bow to your demands. That, or they kill you, and the village suffers anyway.

“2.”

You think of your graying mom, the sweet boy with his chubby red face who cries over the smallest things, the grateful elders that give you candy after every good deed, Ningguang and Keqing stressing over the next financial impact.

“1.”

“I’ll do it.”

Pantalone swings the chain into his palm, an undefeated smug overbearing as he sets it on the desk. There was never a point in resisting; he always got what he wanted, no matter how long it took to achieve it. He waited months—no, years—to get you in this exact moment. There’s a daunting beguiling charm in the way he closes the gap between you two. You glare at him; a temper common people would dread shooting. He assesses the pending punishment and lowers himself eye-level. He grins, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I can see the defiance in your eyes. Do you want to talk back? Go ahead, challenge me.” You don’t test this scenario and turn your head. “Don’t patronize me. Get it over with, ‘Pantalone’.”

He quirks an eyebrow, and pliable flesh strains your teeth as your face is gripped rough by satiny leather. You’re twisted sharply to the calm expression—it humbles you.

“That’s not how you address your superior. What should you call me?” You don’t answer promptly to his liking, and he tightens his grip. “Answer me properly, darling.”

“...Sir.” Pantalone plants a sickly sugary kiss on your forehead, the kind that makes you forget how petrifying he can be, and lets you go.

“Good.” He walks back to the desk and sits in the onyx chair embellished with silver jewels fit for a king. His chin rests on bridging hands. “Strip.”

You don’t move, your heart hammers in your chest at the request and you stir uncomfortably. You have no experience with sexual gratification, let alone exposing yourself to an old friend.

“(Y/N). Don’t make me say it again.” Keen agitation in his voice serves as a final warning. He eats you with his eyes, homed in on your hands clumsily snaking the top over your head. A glimpse of the scar you received during your fight with the Fatui captures him. He takes a mental entry, for an explanation that might justify why the agent suddenly goes missing. You were generally too busy to look in the mirror or analyze your assets, and pleasure was a removed afterthought—so the hungry fervor warming your skin and permeating the room clamped your thighs shut. You’re visibly flustered and nervous fumbling with the clasps on your bra while stabilizing your anxiety, and he delights in every second of the accidental strip tease. It feels like fresh meat introduced to a savage animal, and the instant your bra omes off, a new vulnerability coils in your gut. You move to your bottoms; the sheen of sweat polishes your plush thighs to wiggle out of them. You’re left in nothing but tantalizing panties hugging you in the right places. His eyes undress and redress you, tracing up and down the perk of your nipples, tempting fullness of your thighs, each unseen curve and perfect imperfect mark on your glistening body. He lets out a deep breath to stop himself from jumping over the table and taking you right there.

“The underwear. Take it off” he says, an undertone of lust. You shimmy the fabric off and fully expose yourself. You impulsively cover your intimate parts and avert your eyes, but you can still feel Pantalone on you, ravaging you. He doesn’t bother telling you to put your arms at your sides, your bashfulness combined with an attempt at stoicism is comical.

“Ah, the little thief is trying to act tough. That's cute” Pantalone teases and leans back in the chair. Manspreading, he pats his thigh. “Crawl.”

He’s hellbent on shaming the defiance out of you. It’s a vile command, but you begrudgingly drop to your hands and knees. You drag your chaffed knees on wood, balancing like a newborn fawn adjusting to its legs. It’s humiliating and downright degrading; the cold floor fails at cooling your burning fever. You’re on the verge of tears, but Pantalone can’t help but smile. You get around the desk and look up at him, waiting for the next horrible thing he’ll have you do. “Unfortunately, the stunt you pulled impeded my paperwork. Be a good thing and sit on my lap until I’m done.” A “thing”—that’s all you were now, a shiny trophy meant to be ogled at but never taken seriously, used and thrown away. You stand off your scraped raw knees and straddle his thigh, hands balancing the leg so you don’t fall.

And Pantalone starts to work. Working as if you’re not there, filling in the spaces on his documents. For some reason, it’s more demeaning this way, you truly are just a prize. One hand dances beautiful penmanship in masterful motions on embossed paper, the other fondles and explores your being. The gloves brush down your delicate spine, nonsensical shapes drawn on your lower back that make you shiver and pool heat in places you’ve never thought of. You’ve never been touched like this, it’s needles light on your skin. They move to your stomach, pleasant circles above the pelvis that threaten to go lower. He’s careful to trail his hand up your cleavage and behind your neck, neglect your hardening nipples and repeat the process over and over. He’s painstakingly slow, savoring the dazed arch of your back, massaging your inner thighs and dragging the sleek material over your rear.

Middle and index sweep across your lips, pulling your bottom lip to reveal teeth, and prods your mouth. Pantalone’s fingers are invasive, they exploit your gums and twirl around the squishy tongue molding to his appetite. He plays with the pink mass, and it fills you like a kiss. He’s everywhere and he hasn’t looked at you once. You hate it, the kind elegance and refinement of his technique that makes every calculated word and action reek of opulence. Yet, arousal pools on the surface, sticking to your labia and clouding your drowsy mind. It’s an extreme ache that doesn’t go away from cold showers or shrugging off like you usually would. You can’t remember what you did today, yesterday, or the day before that. The sensation of him consumes you and persists in spots he left. He smells of expensive cologne, hints of heady wood and sage. You’re lucky his fingers are in your mouth, or piteous moans would spill out of you. Flat on his thigh, the subtle jolts of his leg rub against your hypersensitive clit and set your nerves on fire. Throbbing swells in your core, and you struggle to stay stiff as your hips stutter.

Pantalone knows exactly what he’s doing. Your labored pants sound like saintly melody while you writhe on his lap. The fabric goads your pulsing pussy, and you hang your head in embarrassment of the juices soaking your thighs and his. He’s surprised you have strength left to withstand the itch. You do your best to hover above it, trailing thick strings of slick. “There’s no need to pretend you don’t like this. Just give yourself to me” he whispers. And it’s so enticing, an invitation that might let you come if you ask. However, remnants of pride cling to your melting resolve, you can’t give in yet. He takes the fingers out and presses on your nipple, flicking the bud. You can’t hold the mewl, and he snickers.

“So indignant for the hero of Liyue, to be on a harbingers lap, reduced to a pretty pet.” Your ears tune out the insults. The damp gloves pull and pinch your puffy nipples, then knead to soothe the pain. He does the same to the other, switching between both as he feels you squirm.

He works on the last few pages. Piles upon piles of reports and records—they detail the deaths, or “suicides”, of clients who’d disappeared mysteriously after extended absence of payments for millions of mora, people who dared go against the Regrator. Unruly, uncooperative clients that take advantage of fair exchange, and pay the price for it.

Your arms get tired, and you settle on him again. Pantalone starts to softly bounce his leg, enough for you to notice the friction on your clit. It’s too much, you can’t take it anymore, and start to rut your hips on his thigh. You look messy, smearing your essence on those overpriced slacks and biting back your moans. Pleasure flows in your veins, and you give up. His cock throbs nonstop, print stealing space in his pants. “Did you believe I wouldn’t catch you? You’re not sneaky enough. You’re not good enough," he taunts from the corner of his eye. You hump his leg like a desperate bunny, chasing the addictive high.

“Nasty slut, fucking your hips on a man you barely remember.” He moves his hands to your clit and replaces the slacks with slippery leather. You grind on it harder and hold your moans. More, more, more. He coats it in the mess and finally diverts his attention to you. He teases your entrance gliding vertically on your vulva before pushing one finger in. It hurts at first, but your walls hug him eagerly, pulling it deeper. He coaxes it to take another and starts scissoring your gushy walls.

“I’ll devour you. I’ll inscribe my name upon every surface of your physique until it adorns your lips, and I’m the only thing that remains.” Pantalone starts pumping rhythmically, tormenting, poking everywhere but your g-spot. Gloss drips down his knuckles and glazes his rings.

“S-sir please, s’too much” you whimper, mustering up an ineffective stable voice. “Hmm? Can you hear the lewd sounds you’re making?” Loud squelches sing from him fucking your insides. Each time you try to speak, he elicits another moan.

“M-my sto-mach hurtss” you whine. He holds your waist in place with the other hand and continues the assault. “I know, it hurts? Would you like me to alleviate the pain?” he coos. You nod fast.

“Hold it in. You ask for permission every time you’re close, do you understand?” You don’t reply and try to angle your body to get more contact. You make the mistake of guiding yourself to your clit and earn a harsh stinging slap on your hand. “Don’t touch what’s mine” he orders. You’re frustrated and he’s doing it on purpose, it’s entirely too hot where pleasure and pain blur. “N-not yours” you stammer, and he stops. He pulls out your warmth and you whine from loss of pressure. Looking at him, there's no smile, and the irritation on his face makes your heart drop. You're really in for it.

Without delay, your stomach flies over one of the chair arms, and you hold onto it for dear life. It presses firm on your ribs, and he slants your ass to the air. “You have courage, speaking back to me” he says. He pulls his gloves off and hurls them. They’re lovely, the silken soft hands of a man who hadn't lifted a finger through combat a day in his life. They sink into your sex, and you moan out for him. The other winds back, and you feel the palm hit brutally on your unsuspecting backside. Crack. It echoes in the room, and you almost fly forward.

“Disrespectful.” Crack. He keeps pumping through it, and tears collect in your lashes.

“Disobedient.” Crack. There’s blood rushing to your head, and violent smacks make your pussy flutter and ass ripple; his control won’t give you adequate touch.

“Little.” Crack. Every time he feels you getting there, he pauses. A masochistic pleasure whirls innermost.

“Brat.” Crack. Both cheeks are a sore fiery color and beginning to welt, but he resumes. You’re drenching his palm, sobbing from prolonged edging and Pantalone laughs. “Pfft, you’re crying? Too embarrassed to beg? Perhaps I’ll give you what you want, if you grovel hard enough, darling.” An incoherent orchestra of please’s mesh with broken moans. “Sir m’sorry. Wan’ it so bad, p-please!” you mumble. There’s no dignity on your lips, no residue of the hero you once were. Drunken ardor floods your short-circuiting brain.

“Oh, what do you say? You want it? Is that it? I'll let you have it... but only if you say it loud and clear for me” he croons. He winds his fingers in a come-hither gesture that licks your core.

“Please...I won’t misbehave again!” He spreads your ass apart and watches your hole pucker from lining the brink.

“I’m not sure I want to give it to you now. It's a lot more enjoyable watching you squirm and beg.”

“’M yours, sir. Please give it to me. I’ll be s’good, promise!” you mewl. You’re so pathetic, it’s endearing. He simpers and maneuvers impossibly fast while gyrating your clit. “How humiliating. You’ve satisfied me.” Your eyes roll back, and you dissolve in pure euphoria. There’s black dots in your vision, and it doesn’t stop as he starts torturing your overstimulated clit with the pad of his thumb. Your tears only encourage him. You jerk and spasm, but he moves where you move with insistent skill. “T-too m-”

“Aww, what’s wrong? Isn’t this what you wanted, where are your manners?” Pantalone pulls out and delivers staggering mean swats to your pussy, and you recoil. “Say thank you” he demands.

“Thank you, sir.” He hums and picks you up in his arms. Before color can return to your numb cells, he lays you on the desk. You watch him pull his shirt up to his pecs with haste and uncover the lean skinny midsection. Unzipping his pants, he unsheathes his leaking thumping erection. Even his dick is pretty, it curves upwards and shades a starving dusty pink past the thin strip of tissue on the underside of his bulbous tip. Composure thinning, a bead of pre come runs down his tip at the sight of provocation sluicing your ass and thighs. His glasses plunge down his neck, body blushed wildly, but he doesn’t care. Pantalone slides between your labia and groans at the sound. Engulfing the tip in awaiting velvet warmth, “You’re so good for me, hm?” he sighs. You embrace him, delicious searing stretch of your walls forming to his cock. Your orgasm builds just from your body accommodating the size. He places your hands on your calves and holds them at your sides. He slips out, and in one swoop, drives into you. His heavy balls smack against your ass as he thrusts frenetically in the gooey grip he’d been waiting for, stalking and spying for. He digs crescent shapes in your waist and uses you to his abundance. The desk base creaks and grinds on abrading wood and obituaries float to the floor with overturned calligraphy ink from the unrelenting momentum. You throw your head back and indulge the carnal lust washing over you both.

“You’ll never see anyone ever again. Fuck- you’re mine, and mine alone. You’re nothing but a come dump, your purpose is to please me, hah, until I say it’s over” his voice is unexpectedly deprived and weighty with vulgar whimpers. Pantalone eyes your neck and encapsulates it in his slender hand. He clenches tight and releases in sporadic bursts that have you seizing around him. For a split second there’s the image of you—exorbitant pearled collar wrapped around your throat, with “Pantalone” inscribed in bedazzled letters—and he loses it. He swipes your clit rapidly and feeds you deep strokes; you’ll definitely die. You speak, but it’s unintelligible rambling.

“Use your words” he lilts, squeezing your airflow taut. “C-can I, sir, please?”

“You’ll do it on my command.” Pantalone thrusts frenetically, you can feel him bucking, twitching and quickly approaching his climax. His hips sputter, chanting some mixture of your name and curses under his breath. “You’re so obedient for me, aren’t you? F-fuck, darling, go ahead. Come on my cock.” You permit yourself to surrender, white noise streams in and time slows as you come down his shaft. A creamy ring forms at the hilt of his slaps. You recite “thank you” through wails with the semblance of a follower at the altar of their savior. Then he grabs your face and goes in for a kiss.

It’s sloppy and misses half your lip, but its doughy attachment mellows your blissed out head. His lips taste like the bitter excess of green tea, and you crane for a better sample. His tongue does things his fingers couldn’t, and swirls around yours in a passionate bruising waltz. Pantalone breaks away, a string of saliva when he frees himself. “Mm, coming. Gonna claim you everywhere” he whimpers. Sweat on his lustered abdomen, he pumps his tender cock before spurting thick hot ropes across your tits and stomach. He paints your vulva with the rest and plunges the tip in your entry so as to not waste the endless globs of white. He tremors inside you until soft, and when some dribbles out he fingers it back inside.

Afterwards, Pantalone opens one of the drawers on the desk and takes out an embossed loan dismissal form. You can’t read the finer details through hazy eyesight. “It’s already signed, so don’t worry. I won’t deceive you.” He caresses your face in his normal sing-song attitude. “We depart in the morning.” You don’t have a clue where you’re going or how you’ll get there as you drift unconscious. Once you’re asleep, Pantalone shuffles in a different locked drawer. He twiddles the stunning purple geode in his hand, a crystal lined mineral you gave to him years prior. He looks at you, then the druse, and cackles.

“Mine. Always.”

#genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin au #pantalone smut #pantalone #pantalone headcanons #headcanon #pantalone x reader #pantalone x you #pantalone x y/n #genshin impact pantalone

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sinswithpleasure · 11 months

Text

Bucket List Interlude—Workout Five.8

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You know you've made it when you're writing a chapter of the series you're a fan of. Collaboration between @co-reborn and me for a little side-piece of the Bucket List universe.

6 is still in draft hell.

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[Im Squirtle has sent a message:]

Are you going to run tmr morning?

[Pervert has sent a message:]

Yea, why?

[Im Squirtle has sent a message:]

I don’t want to run tomorrow morning. Let’s go to the gym instead.

How does 6am sound?

——————

You’re glad that the university gym is now open 24 hours since you can now head there earlier to avoid the morning crowd. Not a single soul is present, including the girl that called you there.

While you’re satisfied with spending any time with the bubbly girl, you also have an inkling of what to expect with her—not that you don’t welcome it of course. When you initially saw her invitation the night before, your mind wandered off to the previous time when she joined you for the morning run, when she walked around the track topless and subsequently, naked, when she joined you in the men’s bathroom to fuck.

You’re hyper focused on your workout that you don’t notice you’re no longer alone in the gym. Your earbud is plugged out and you’re met with a radiant Nayeon in her gym attire. It’s different from the white crop top and blue jogging pants from the running session. Instead, she’s in a white sports bra and tight running shorts. Her tits are pushed together perfectly that accentuates her cleavage and the shorts expose her luscious thighs for all to see.

“Looking good, pervert.”

You're simply catching your breath from the exercises, definitely not speechless, definitely not spending a little too much time staring at Nayeon's perfect body. She smirks when she notices your gaze.

"Me too, I know."

She turns and walks away with a sway in her hips and gets to her own set of exercises, leaving you a flustered mess at the corner of the room. It takes a moment for you to regain your composure, and even then, your body doesn’t obey your thoughts. No longer able to concentrate, you find yourself half-assing your sets while you admire Nayeon’s ass from across the room through the mirror.

"Quit looking, pervert." Her grin promises she means no malice. "Either quit looking and focus, or you can come over and do something about it.

"Your call." She grins. "Daddy."

Your eyes peel away from the mirror and shift down at the dumbbells set on the floor. Your tank top joins them, then your gym shorts. You take a page off her book and strip down to your underwear, a visible tent forming already. However, your resistance doesn't crumple as easily as she thinks, and you pick up the dumbbells to do some curls.

Nayeon stares at your toned body before she attempts to return to working out. However, as much as she tries, she still can’t keep her eyes off you. Why couldn’t you just jump at the invitation, bend her over and take her there and then? It's now a test of discipline and endurance and who breaks who first. Her movements noticeably slows down and she’s barely getting any exercise done as she spends more effort resisting the urge to beg for you.

"Are you alright, baby girl? You seem to be... struggling over there."

"O-Of course I am, pervert! I think it's you that isn't alright!" She says that, but her actions prove otherwise. Her fingers toy with the hem of her bra and the waistline of her shorts. "I-I'm not stripping for you! It's just a little hot in the gym, that's all!"

You watch her drop her shorts to the floor and openly display her panties for you to ogle. It’s surprising she even wore them to begin with. However, what isn't surprising is the visible soaked spot on the thin cloth—Nayeon's always been easy to arouse.

While you continue to work out in your underwear, the distance between you two grows shorter. Nayeon silently moves closer and closer towards you, the heat between her thighs beckoning her closer to her desires. It's clear she's going to be the first to crack, so you try to push her even further. You quietly rid yourself of your last article of clothing and your aching shaft is now exposed for Nayeon to see.

You hear an audible gasp from the other side of the gym moments later. A flustered Nayeon fanning herself and alternating between staring at your naked body and looking away greets your eyes. She’s unsure about her next actions—does she go closer to you, or does she continue working out?

As the mind stumbles, the heart answers. Nayeon has already divested herself of her bra, and her panties are now ruined. Before she realises, the exercises stop and the only thing she’s working on is her sensitive taut nipples.

“Please.”

“What was that?”

The confident Queen of Seoul U is gone, now replaced with her more secretive persona. Nayeon pouts and pulls her panties just low enough down her thighs to reveal her dripping pussy.

“Please fuck me, Daddy.”

You tug onto her wrist and pull her close to you. Stepping backwards, you find a gym bench next to the mirror and sit yourself down. Nayeon lands squarely on your lap and you plant soft kisses on her neck. Your hands spread her thighs as wide as possible, exposing every bit of her for your hungry eyes to fully devour.

“Touch yourself, baby girl. I want to watch you stain the glass.”

She starts off slow, her mind still focused on your cock that’s resting against her back. Your hand leads hers closer to her soaked lips and upon the contact with her sex, Nayeon begins to finger herself, with the usual chorus of moans soon following after. You stare intensely at her through the mirror, watching her every action. Her digits gradually speed up and the heel of her palm rubs against her clit much more frequently. Her head falls back and rests on your shoulder and her body tenses up even more when you toy with her nipples.

“Look at me, baby girl.” Nayeon does as you say and peers at you through her half-lidded eyes. You lean your mouth closer to her ear and whisper, “I’m going to ruin your pussy, you hear me? I'm going to fuck you, and I'm going to destroy your fucking cunt."

That sets her off. Her eyes widen, pupils shaking, and as your words set in her mind, she gasps right before her orgasm crashes onto her hard, her loud cries filling the empty gym while the pleasure passes through her writhing body. Nayeon squirts through her panties, her cum gushing all over theher thighs as it sprays out of any gaps between cloth and skin, as well as through the cloth. Midway through her high, you push her now frozen hand aside and slide your hand between her thighs, prolonging her orgasm and making an even bigger mess on your lap and thighs, as well as the gym bench and floor before it.

However, you’re nowhere near done. Nayeon has no time to recover. As soon as her orgasm ends, you push her off you and position her on all fours. Kneeling behind her, a sudden surge of strength courses through you and you manage to rip off the pesky little panties off her thighs. After you further part her legs, you relish in the sight of Nayeon bent over before you, in the middle of the wet mess she made. Your cock presses against her pussy and immediately, your swollen tip gets coated with her cum.

This is it. This is the culmination of the morning and is what you both expected since the initial invitation the night prior. She gasps at the contact and turns to look into your eyes, her eyes telling you all you need to know—she needs you in her badly.

"Put it in, please, Daddy."

"Of course, baby girl."

There is no point holding back and teasing the girl—you want to fuck her as badly as she wants to be fucked, so you plunge your cock deep into her pussy with one thrust. Nayeon cries echo across the empty gym, and you don’t hesitate to pound and use her just as she likes, just as you like. Tugging on her ponytail and directing her gaze to the mirror, you get a clear view of her deep in sinful pleasure. Stray strands of hair cover her forehead and her cheeks glows with a hue of red, a far cry from the cute and pretty girl the rest of the school knows her as.

"Look at yourself, Nayeon. Your prim and proper appearance is just a facade, isn't it? This is the true you. A slut that craves for a good fucking by your Daddy."

Her eyes barely focus on her reflection and she stares at her naked body rocking back and forth at the rhythm of your cock thrusting into her. Inner desires triumph one again as she tightens even more around you.

"Yes, Daddy, I'm just a slut..."

"It's getting late, I'm pretty sure people are going to start coming to the gym. You'd like that, won't you slut?"

"N-No, I... No."

"Don't lie. I bet you'd cum as soon as someone walks in through that door. You probably won't even try to hide yourself, right?"

"Nnngh—I... No, I… Only Daddy can..." Nayeon trails off, her words devolving into whines and whimpers.

"Only Daddy can what, baby?"

"Only Daddy can look at me like this."

"That's right, baby." You hug her waist and pull her body upright. "You're mine and mine only."

Your head rests on Nayeon’s shoulder and you watch her facial expressions contort in pleasure while her body is thoroughly used. Your hands freely roam Nayeon’s body. Starting at her tummy, a hand reaches down to find her clit while the other begins to fondle her breast. Upon contact with her clit, she tenses her body, her pussy contracting around your cock and you feel her getting wetter by the second. Her nipples are already hard from when she first stripped down to her panties and she tosses her head back onto your shoulder when you pinch them.

"Yes, please, Daddy, please—!"

Your fingers are already drenched from merely touching her pussy. You shove three fingers into Nayeon’s open mouth and she greedily licks her fluids up.

“Cum for me, Nayeon.”

Another squeal, and Nayeon explodes on your cock. Gush after gush of squirt drenches your body, the equipment beneath you, as well as all over the floor. Your lust for her multiplies tenfold, but at the same time, so does your appreciation of her beauty—Nayeon is at her prettiest when she orgasms. Even if her eyes roll back, her tongue hangs out, and she literally comes undone, it will forever be your favourite sight.

When her orgasm is about to die down, you pull out of her, flip her onto her back and resume fucking her. With your erratic thrusts, her final squirts coat your abs and make a larger mess on your body. Even while she lays before you, basking in her post-orgasmic bliss, you continue fucking her tight pussy, chasing your own peak.

You can’t help but to caress her beautiful face and her cheeks turn even redder in response. You love the absolutely confident queen as well as the downright lustful slut in her, but something about Nayeon in her most vulnerable state with you tugs your heartstrings more than expected.

However, before you can get too lost in your thoughts, Nayeon grounds you with her touch—she pulls you in and crashes her lips against yours in a fierce kiss. No words are needed—you know what she means when her legs tighten up around your waist, her legs locked right behind you to imprison you in her embrace. Locked between her arms and legs, you only thrust faster, harder, all to fulfil her unspoken wish.

‘Cum in me, Daddy.’

With a deep groan, you give Nayeon a final hard thrust and release inside her before burying yourself into the crook of her neck and sighing. With your chest pressed against hers, you’re sure she can feel your intense heartbeat just as you can feel hers. You’d love to remain in that position as long as possible, but you’re sure people are going to start flooding over to the gym soon.

When you withdraw from her body, a small stream of your cum leaks out and drips down her thighs. The dishevelled but gorgeous sight of Nayeon post-sex leaves you staring for a little too long and when you pull her back up to her feet, she notices the mess she made and she can’t help but chuckle.

How can she be so downright adorable immediately after engaging in hot public sex with you? You would never understand beyond it being the charm of Im Nayeon.

While you’re deep in your thoughts, Nayeon has already put her clothes back on, her bare skin stained with her own squirt. Anyone who sees her in this state wouldn’t have a clue about that fact, mistaking it as her sweat after an intense workout.

She tosses you your discarded clothes. “Hurry up and dress, pervert. People might be coming soon.”

You quickly put on your underwear and gym shorts, opting not to wear your tank top. Just like Nayeon, you’re drenched in your sweat and her fluids and you swipe two fingers across your skin to collect it for a quick taste. While you definitely do taste your own sweat, you're well-acquainted with the unmistakable tang of Nayeon's cum.

“You taste just as good as always, Squirtle.”

The 'Squirtle' punches your shoulders and blushes, before she gathers her other belongings and heads out. You're momentarily stunned by the sight—Im Nayeon is always beautiful, but even more so just now.

“Let’s grab food after we shower.”

You grab your top, tower and body wash not long after Nayeon leaves and hit the showers. You stand in the stall and let the water hit your face while you’re deep in your thoughts.

You can’t deny looking forward to the time spent with Nayeon since last night. Sure, you knew what she was implying and you deeply loved every second of the hot sex with her, but you were perfectly happy to simply spend the morning in the quiet gym with her. It was just you and her, just like when you were on the rooftop with her.

You scrub your body clean with soap while memories of your time together with her resurface. Nayeon has been occupying your mind a lot more often recently, the mere thought of her brings a smile to your face and brightens up your day. Every small action or item reminds you of her, any free time you have has your brain flashing images of her. Your life has been thoroughly intertwined with hers from the day she approached you.

The water washes off the soap on your body and you hurriedly wipe yourself dry, not realising how long you took to shower. After you have put on your clothes, you rush out to meet Nayeon.

Frozen in place, your jaw drops after you catch sight of Nayeon in a beautiful blue sweater and jeans. She truly knows how to dress herself up, even a simple outfit like this is enough to make every single man fall in love with her.

“Quit staring and let’s go.” She snaps her fingers in front of your eyes to catch your attention. “What took you so long? Rubbing one out to me again?”

“What the hell? No. Had something to do.”

“Good. That’s one more load you could put in me.”

Nayeon flashes a cheeky smile and pulls you away from outside the showers before you could properly react. You give in to her and follow closely right behind.

—————-

The campus seems a lot emptier today, even though the sun is already up, the familiar sounds of students buzzing across the school field is missing. Perhaps it’s the winding down of the school term and that there’s less classes going on. You trail behind Nayeon as she enters the cafe and you easily find a table at the corner of the shop. It isn’t as packed as it always is, there’s plenty of empty space, which is surprising at this hour of the day, and the only people entering are professors ordering drinks before making their way out. At least her simping apes are unlikely to show up and disturb her this time.

The breakfast set you ordered comes fast and the two of you, hungry after an intense morning “workout”, devour the food quickly. However, Nayeon seems oddly distracted, constantly smiling while she scrolls through her phone even in the middle of a conversation with you. You’re puzzled but just brush it aside as something important. Finally, when she looks up to you, your phone lights up with a notification.

“Check it out.” She’s beaming at you, obviously excited about it.

[Im Squirtle has sent an image:]

(Photo)

It is a mirror selfie of herself from the bathroom. She’s still in her gym attire showing her eye smile and bunny teeth to you, wrecking your heart. She’s just so goddamn cute and adorable and you’re glad you’re one of the few people who can see this side of her up close. God, you’re obsessed with her.

[Im Squirtle has sent a message:]

Done looking yet?

Huh?

You look up to a giggling Nayeon and you turn red at being caught red handed. But when the giggles stop, you catch a teaseful glint in her eyes before receiving another notification. Your fingers shake while you open the message. Knowing her, you’re in for a treat.

[Im Squirtle has sent an image:]

(Photo)

This time, it’s a picture of her near naked body. You shut off your phone screen and whisper, “What the hell, Nayeon?”

She only laughs at your overreaction. “Relax. There’s no one around here. Besides, I chose the corner table for a reason. Just stare all you want.”

You hesitantly unlock your phone once again knowing that she’s right. No one else can possibly catch a glimpse of your screen. You look at the image again. Her bra is pulled just over her tits and her shorts are bunched around her knees, low enough to expose her pussy for the camera. Despite the lewd act, she’s still smiling and winking. The duality of Im Nayeon.

At this point, your pants have tightened uncomfortably and your attempt to shift your lower body doesn’t go unnoticed by the girl. Before you can get in another word, you hear her say, “Last one.”

[Im Squirtle has sent you a video:]

(Video)

It’s not an image, it’s a video this time. From the thumbnail, you can tell that she has already shed her clothes. Her fingers are toying with her pussy and your cum leaks from the slit, a white trail dripping down her skin. Your heart pounds faster and you choke on your sandwich.

When you finally peel your eyes off the phone, you’re met with Nayeon’s face close to you as she leans across the table.

“I can still feel your cum in me, Daddy.”

You’re speechless and frozen in your seat. She gets off her seat and pulls you up after you finish your last bite of food.

“We don't have classes today. Let’s go back to my place to study.” Nayeon flashes you her prettiest grin, and you find yourself following her blindly. Stepping out of the cafe, she hugs your arm tight and looks up to you.

"Actually, I lied."

The shit-eating grin on her face promises nothing but trouble.

“I want you to strip me and fuck me when we get back, Daddy.

"All.

"Day.

"Long."

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #male reader #twice smut #im nayeon smut #nayeon smut

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serxinns · 14 days

Text

Lets play a Love game!~

A clas 1a x reader special

A/n: ITS FINALLY DONE its been in my drafts for months had to make a few repairs here and there but it's done!

Warnings: mentions of stalking, possessive, yandere behavior, obsessive behavior, reader having a panic attack, almost throwing up, violence and more if you arent comfortable with these topics don't read if not read at your own risk

A crackle came from the villain named Red Virus you and some of your classmates were having difficulties defeating him he kept teleporting and shooting out glitch beams that could make the quirk dysfunctional to the user which could be dangerous the villain teased you as Mina tried shooting acid at the villain and Tokoyami using dark shadow and Denki using electricity but none was working so you had a plan

"Tokoyami!" You glanced at him with a determined nod and he grabbed you flying towards the battlefield and directly toward the villain, the red virus saw this and summoned glitchy sharp rods and threw them toward the 2 of you tokoyami barely avoided most of them except 2, and shot down with a grunt "TOKOYAMI!" You yelled as he was falling but used ur quirk to lunge at the unexpected villain and tackle him while he was losing control in the air and your classmates looking worriedly at you,

You used your quirk to make him fall to the ground but before you went down he grabbed your face hard and activated his quirk "Y/N!!1! 1" your classmates called trying to catch u while falling but you weren't giving up with the energy you still have left you use your super move on him which made him fell unconscious and the two of you crashed into the ground, you takoyami and Denki quickly ran to your side and put both of your arms around their necks helping you walk easily

The rest of your classmates surrounded them asking if you were ok checking for any more injuries and glaring at the villain while he was being dragged away in the police card without sending one final glare and scowl at you before the police door was shut on him and being drove away to the police, you were a bit confused but brushed it off of him just being salty of losing to a hero in training, "y/n San you need to go take care of those injuries and especially if that villain managed to get a hit on you!" Iida said while waving his arm "Guys im fine but for some reason, he didn't dysfunction my quirk and was surprised" "Glasses are right dumbass you need to get those treated and IM taking you to the nurse"

"Cmon bakubro you took them last week!

"Yea it's suppose to be my turn *kero*"

"No mines!"

Everyone started to fight like children fighting over a single toy as much as it was weirdly entertaining to you, you always wondered why your classmates were so desperate to want to spend time with you it's so werid now that your slowly realizing it but that's another time to think about it

"Mwah!" A big kiss mark was stained on your cheek your body felt a bit tired but at least it wasn't aching "there now you be careful now seriously don't be so reckless!" Recovery girl said with a soft but stern tone you nodded and grabbed a lolipop she gave you and went out suddenly izuku and his squad surrounded you and talking at once about if you were ok momo and iida both grabbing your arm seeing if you were ok but you pushed them off

"guys I'm fine really im just gonna go to sleep a bit early if that's ok?" They groaned wanting to spend time with you but agreed you signed in relief you went in your dorm and quickly fell asleep

You were awoken by a bad dream you were sweating everywhere and breathing heavily "the fuck kind of dream was that..." your thoughts were racing you held your head as you think your dream,

the virus and you were fighting every time you kept hitting him he kept laughing nonstop to the point it was ringing in your ears making an ache in your head began spinning that you had to stop moving the red virus guy slowly walked towards you a sinister look on his face and roughly grabbed you by the neck and lifted you up, no matter how much you resited and cussed at him

He then pulled you closer to your ear and whispered "I curse you with a fate that you will wish you never defeated me you'll be crawing back begging and maybe even hoping that this curse will go away :)" the villain then laughed maniacally while you finally pushed him off and started running untill something hit you in the back hard like a bullet and your vision started to fade into darkness

The words the man told you were still hanging in the back of your mind you slowly walked towards to the kitchen in the common room to get yourself a drink, after looking around in the kitchen you found your favorite soda you saved earlier you swiftly grabbed the soda and quickly went back to your room not even a few minutes you started feeling dizzy and your eye started hurting alot you felt to the ground clutching your eye and crying

That's when you woke up panting frantically looking around your dorm, sweat beaming down your face clothes drenched with sweat, your whole body was shivering you almost fell off the bed you checked the time and it was 7:49 AM "What the fuck kind of dream, nightmare whatever! was that.." you head was spinning with questions, thoughts and just jumble up messes you were sure it was a dream right? It has to be that's when your eye began to ache you groaned you went to the bathrooms to take a quick shower maybe that will clam you down

After the shower you walked over to brush your teeth, you took once glance at the mirror and froze your pupils were normally e/c but now the left one had a red heart on it with a line across it you start freaking out wondering was thus some sort of sick joke from Denki, Mineta anyone!, You tried rubbing it off, picking at it just anything to get whatever was off you, heck you almost tried to stab it put with your toothbrush but you weren't That crazy! so you had two choices, one just roll with it for the rest of the day then go to the nurses office to see what the fuck is going on, or two you find a eye patch and dismiss any suspicious questions from your classmates..

A sudden knock on the door startled you, "y/n? You done in there?" A sudden voice rang out it was Mina she started banging again but this time it was strangely more eager.. you hesitantly opened the door to see her she was grinning ear to ear at you and then grabbed your arm a bit to tight "cmon bestie it's almost time for class!" She chimes basically dragging you to class as she started chatting her head off to you not noticing your eye and the bewildered expression when a sudden voice rang out in your head with some info shown

MINA ASHIDO

Age:15-16

Yandere:possessive and clingy, and easily jealous

Tip: make sure to not anger her :)

You stared not being able to utter out the words to describe what your just seeing rn only a "what. the. actual. fuck." A yandere? The fuck is that? And why did it describe her personality like that they weren't true? Maybe..actually now to think about it, her behavior did started changing throughout the months you were at school..like when you were talking with Mina once day and sato pulled you away to let you tried some of his latest sweets you swore you felt like someone was staring intensely at you-no not you at Sato you looked back a bit seeing Mina's smile faded replacing with a ice cold stare it derided you out a bit but there was no way Mina was that crazy!

So you ignored it struggling to close it off and you successfully did by blinking twice, once you made it to class you then pulled away from mina's hand and rushed into your seat confusing her a bit but brushed it off you were then greeted by iida as he walked up to you "y/n you were almost late! this isn't like you!" He said waving his arms around like he was chopping the air "sorry iida had a horrible nightmare" iida then started lecturing you and recommending some options for you to not have a nightmare and did one of his suggestions was sleepijg in his bed? you rubbed your eyes a bit causing yet another info to pop out

Tenya Iida

Age: 15-16

Yandere: protective, stalker, and observance

Tip: watch out for him he could put a tracker on you ;)

Your eyes couldn't beleive it nor could it looked away "iida..him a stalker!" Inside you were all cool but on the inside you were freaking the fuck out should you tell someone? Calling the police?! Endless thoughts ran throught your mind untill a voice snapped you out "y/n you ok you zone out a bit darling?" You looked over to see Iida with a confused expression as your classmates started staring as well

They're all staring could it adoration? Or lovesick? :3 oooo or maybe jealousy

You swore you wanted to punch whoever was in your head. also, wait, did Iida just call you darling? This is getting weird now, really weird, and how is nobody noticing your eye? You thoughts were interrupted by a slap on the ruler Aizawa glared at his class "Stop your talking and listen we have an important lesson and your chatting isn't so shush up and look at the board"

After a boring day of class, it was lunchtime, and you went to look for a spot until Ochako jumped out of nowhere in front of you. "Hey y/n, I wonder if you wanna eat with me alone, just the two of us?" You startled back away a bit and smiled nervously "No thanks I'm just gonna sit alone-" That was until another info came out

Ochako Uraraka

Age:15-16

Yandere: delusional, worshipper and clingy!

Tip: watch your choice of words or she'll twist your words otherwise :3

"Not ochako too...Seriously what am I even going on, and what is even a fucking yandere!?" You were so focused on trying to rub your eye away that you didn't notice Ochako and Izuku calling your name in a panic to the point Izuku grabbed your arm, restraining you. "y/n San, are you alright? Is something wrong with your eye?" Izuku frantically grabbed your face and started observing it

Izuku Midoriya

Age:15-16

Yandere: stalker.., observer, and delusional

Tip: he knows everything about everyone, but when it comes to you, he has a whole notebook about it, and it's not just about your quirk. Try not to be dumb and give him ur information now. He'll use that to his advantage! :3

You quickly pushed him off and ran out of the cafeteria and into the bathroom, not caring about the confused and concerned looks of your classmates. You couldn't believe it yourself. Your friend Izuku was a fucking creep!? You looked at yourself in the mirror, observing the eye again; why is this happening to you? What did you do to deserve this? Why are your classmates suddenly becoming these crazy freaks!? You start breathing fast tears running down your eyes

After minutes of crying and reassuring yourself, you wipe away your tears, your eyes still red, tho you hoped nobody noticed, and start making your way out of the bathroom until you hear a knock. "y/n darling, are you ok in there?" A familiar voice called out to you; you cleared your throat, making sure you didn't sound like you were crying. "Y-Yeah! im just fine I needed some time alone the cafeteria was overwhelming me with all those people and loud noises heh.." you lied trying to make it more convincing as you heard silence "Oh..do you want me to accompany you in case you get overwhelmed again?" He questioned

You thought about it for a moment tho you couldn't trust anyone but...what if most or even some of your classmates weren't crazy plus Aoyama never showed any signs of psychotic or crazy behavior so maybe you could trust him.. you slowly and hesitantly open the door to see Aoyama looking concerned "cmon then training period is about to start!" Without a word, Aoyama quickly took your hand and dashed down the hallways and into training untill you saw info yet again making your stomach drop

Yuga Aoyama

Age: 15-16

Yandere: possessive, manipulative, and stalker

Tip: you thought he was normal huh? Nope! He wants you just as much as the others do he just hides it well! Just like how he hides in your room to watch you sleep, be on a watch out! And maybe..check twice before you head off to bed ;p

"O-others..?" You said as Aoyama kept dragging you towards your next class not noticing your terrified expression

You arrived at training and were greeted by everyone. You shook out of your thoughts as Tsuyu ran up to you, "Wanna be my training partner? *kero!*" "um i-" "actually stupid frog this dumbass is training with me!" Bakugo then appeared outta nowhere and start dragging you off but was stopped by momo and Takoyami "and how do you know they wanna train with you? They probably perfer to train with me" Momo said glaring at the explosive blonde "awww but y/n promised to train with us later!!" Dark shadow then appeared out of Takoyami as he agreed "yea irs 2 against one y/n is training with us"

As the 3 students started arguing, more and more students chimed in, fighting over who was going to be their partner. You took a step back, not believing in your eyes.. your classmates were all crazy.. obsessive physios; you tried backing away, not wanting to be in the mix of the chaos the voice in your head spoke once again

Dont feel too down now why wipe a that frown off time glass-! We are gonna be the best of friends

"fuck you!"You heard the voice laugh and laughed at your feared and angered expression it all stopped when you saw another piece of info pop up in front of your face then another...another then another then another multiple Infos kept filling up your view as you desperately tried to stop it you kept blinking hoping for it to go away but it didn't work. Nothing worked the arguing and yelling got louder and louder as the info of each of your classmates kept flooding in it was too much

you collapsed on the ground shaking and trembling, your whole body felt weak, very weak and your stomach started twisting and turning and doing all sorts of backflips causing you to feel nauseous bile burning in the back of your throat as you clutched your mouth as hard as you can and stomach you felt a wave of dizziness finally hitting you and your body collapse with the left of your energy you couldn't move your vision became blurry and the yelling and laughter became muffled the last thing you saw a bunch of blurry figures surrounding you

...

Your vision slowly came back to clear as you slowly open your eyes, you looked around to see that you were in your dorm room?, You noticed you were in your pajamas. Did someone change you!? You thought about freaking out again, "Oh, you're awake?" You gasped quickly, turning to see Aizawa's red eyes staring back at you. "Why are you in my room- and who changed me?" "Woah, brat, relax, recovery girl, and another nurse changed you," Hearing that made you calm down a bit.

"You seem to overuse your quirk of yours causing you to black out" he continued -you looked at him confused "But I didn't use my quirk at all today" "and that's where the confusing part comes in," he said straightening himself up as he took a deep breath "we discovered that you have some sort 2nd quirk we dont know the name of it nor what kind of quirk it is tho" as he was busy talking about this mysterious quirk you are just processing this whole thing a 2nd quirk me!? But ho- you paused finally coming to realization

The villain you fought yesterday

The dream

The voices

It was all becoming clear now... it all made sense now

The red virus was behind it all...you clutched your fist, your face full of tears. "Why...why me!? Why did I have to suffer because of some lowlife!" "L/n is there something the matter," You noticed your Sensei looking at you with a stoic expression you signed "Yeah I just need some time to think about all this stuff" he nodded "I understand you saw him escorting himself out the room closing the door the room was filled with silent once again

You were empty with ideas of what you were gonna do. Your classmates are insane and now you're stuck with this useless quirk or parasite all day

Hey I'm not a parasite :(

You rolled your eyes "Yeah of course you're not anyways I'm going to bed, this day has been shit and my life is probably gonna be shit as well"

Hey, now I never said that I was gonna torture you now, did I? Plus, if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have noticed that your friends were yandere. I should at least get a thanks! :(

"Again what the absolute fuck is a yandere!?" You began to search on the net for the term yandere and the definition sent a shiver down your spine

a yandere is someone who is lovesick, someone who has been driven to insanity by extreme obsession or love, thus resulting in abnormal behavior if not violence!

"I didn't think they were real I thought it was just an anime trope!" You exclaimed while the voice giggled, "But how do I avoid them? Is there nobody to be trusted?" "Well not exactly! Some yanderes are very trusting and careful with their darling while others...rather keep you all to their elves like a doll in their package!" The voice then explained, "And in order not to have that kind of fate, just follow my rules and do the task. It's easy easy, lemon queasy!" "So you're telling me all I have to do is follow your tips and tasks, and everything will be fine, and I'll end the game?"

"Yep!" You didn't know what the future may hold nor what would be prepared for you till then; you were gonna have to play along with this voice until their satisfaction was needed and find ways to escape your psycho classmates. It will be hard, but it'll all be worth it in the end..you hoped

#yandere bnha #yandere ua #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere mha #tw obsessive behavior #yandere class 1a #bnha fluff #platonic yandere #yandere class 1a x reader #yandere fanfiction #yandere my hero academia #dark boku no hero #yandere blog #yandere anime #i hope you like it #dark fanfiction #mha fanfiction

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takes1 · 8 months

Text

p.3 himbo!kirishima x petite!reader (gymbros series: rest day)

featuring aged up!kiri with growth spurt and long hair. i've actually had this in the drafts for a couple years, it's just that i didn't write an exposition and got straight to the point lmao. next part is on the way

warnings. nsfw, nearly f! oral, grinding, biting, mentions of mathematics

details. nsfw / gymbros with benefits/ aged up!kiri / fem!reader / mentions of f! masturbation / almost facesitting / mutual size kink / shy reader / support course student!reader / scars thirst / sharp teeth thirst / bakugou doesn't knock / 4.5k words

🤍 scenario series. part one / part two / kiri headcanons

more links. my ao3

The next few workouts grew increasingly more distracting and less efficient. Kirishima made it a point to talk more, get closer to you when not always necessary, and encourage you in ways he wouldn't use with other people who came to join.

You had moved to working out with varying amounts of Hero Course students that he introduced as his friends, too, all eager to meet you, in the Hero-specific gym.

This night wasn't the first time you visited his dorm room. The first was about five days prior when he invited you up to take a shower in his room.

Nothing 'happened,' but the whole experience was enough to fuel your fantasies for a few nights and make it evident that he wanted you, very badly and under any tangible excuse, in his bedroom.

It was Thursday night, and you had next to nothing else to do, so when he called, you picked up after a few rings and a deep breath.

(Y/n)!

He sounded so happy to say your name.

"Eijiro!" You smiled, not quite as excitable, but you did your best.

You busy tonight?

He laughed just off of the microphone, and you heard some other voices. He told one of them to shush, and another to go away. Your brow furrowed. It was one thing if he wanted you to come over, but another if you were hanging out with his friends.

Hello?

"Depends," You trailed, fingers fidgeting with your pajamas.

Iiiii was just wonderin' if you'd come hang for a while. No workout or anything.

His voice was a little sing-songy. It was extremely cute. While you were trying to rub the smile off of your face, he continued.

Just us.

"Yea-h," You answered, breathless.

It took a while to get ready to your liking after he let you off the phone. Thankfully, you showered earlier, so in the time it took to get dressed and out the door, he called again to ask if he needed to come get you.

You told him that wouldn't be necessary, as flattering as it was, and it took another minute to get him to hang up.

The Support Course housing wasn't too far away from his, you knew the way, and it was certainly not a dangerous walk, but when you turned the only corner of the walk, a familiar heavy-footed redhead was there to take you the remainder of the way.

"I should've walked with you the whole way!" He insisted when you told him his chivalry was appreciated, but not needed.

Surely he had safety as a primary concern. His Hero-centered brain was certain something might happen on the ten-minute walk over.

It was an animated walk to the dorms with this chatterbox next to you, but nothing compared to the chaos inside. Most students were gathered in the common area, loud and boisterous, all confirming your anxieties.

Kirishima picked up on this and kept a hand on your shoulder as you both passed, mostly unnoticed, through the busiest area near the entryway.

When the door closed, and the moment of relief was gone, you were a bit unsure of yourself. His company in public, or the gym, was one thing, but completely alone, behind a door?

You texted a friend where you were just in case.

But upon further inspection, he had prepared a silly movie and some snacks for you. His beanbag was what you were most excited about, but you kept it cool and only sat down at the soonest opportunity it could look natural. He took a seat on a small mat next to it and leaned on the bag. He was too big to share it with you but still wanted to be close.

The movie was menial compared to how much you both talked through it.

You got on the topic of perception and types, attractiveness, and the like. He had a difficult time understanding how you found him pretty and manly.

"What?" He laughed; he'd never been called that before. He liked it, but prompted you to explain.

He twisted his body to meet yours, already close on the floor right next to you.

"Well, you know-- you know," You tried to express, hand darting back to your side after leaving its resting place on his massive shoulder.

It was so much harder to compliment him when he wouldn't just take it. You sunk lower into the beanbag.

Part of him knew, you could hear it in the clip at the end of his sentences, a subtle request for you to keep making a fool of yourself.

"I don't think I do," He nabbed one of your wrists, his smile spreading when he found a similar one on your face and placed it back on his shoulder.

His eyes were eating you up, the inside of his own cheek offered as tribute in order to satiate his nerves.

"Well," You pushed a curious thumb into his ample flesh and tried to control a quick sigh, "You're... attractive."

"Attractive?" Kirishima repeated, amused and intrigued by your slow admission.

Quicker, a little panicked, you tried to rationalize it out loud, "Yeah, my friends think you are-- you're conventionally attractive, like it's not a secret or anything, everyone thinks you're hot."

An unsure hand slid, pressing here and there, over his squishy, thick bicep. You could barely fit your fingers all the way around it. There were an array of stretch marks, dark to light, all over his arms, chest, and on his tummy.

Maybe mentioning your friends was a wrong move, because now it sounded like you had gushed about him and showed pictures of him-- something you totally did do, but he didn't need to know that.

In your quick explanation, you couldn't keep quiet because you didn't want to hear his reply yet, so you just kept going, "A tall guy with huge muscles, and-- a big smile, with good hugs, who's really sweet, and considerate, and is open-minded and asks questions. I mean, who wouldn't like you?"

You had to suck in a breath, and in doing so, realized everything you said just as he did.

"Well, you make a pretty solid case," He laughed. He was blushing-- blushing, and had to look away from you.

This wasn't your first rodeo with a big guy, but it was certainly the most exciting. There was something about his soft, silly demeanor that held a chokehold on your heart.

He stood up and offered a hand to take you with him. But he pulled a tad too hard and you stumbled against him. He smiled, bashful still.

"What-uh, what else do you like?"

Your head was spinning. Maybe he wasn't so confident? Was that it? You were usually the one to break eye contact, but your clumsy, stupid words seemed to unlock the key to a shy side.

"U-hm," Eyes and fingers flitted up to his chest, then his broad shoulders, "I like... how strong you are."

Big hands squeezed around your waist, setting off a flurry of butterflies, and kept you plastered across his front, instead of your attempted distance.

"'Shouldn't tell me that," He muttered, fingers locked around each other on the curve of your spine.

You wanted to feel everything while you could-- you directed your touch to the back of his neck, and reached up as far as you could go with a face of focused concentration. Your voice was quiet, far away.

"Why not? It's true."

The grip pulling on you shifted and in seconds, he muscled you up by the ass to sit on his hips-- your thighs squeezed him but didn't need to when his grip was forcing you so hard against his cock.

He made a toothy grin at your shifting around, frantic grabbing, and looking down at the distant floor, "Gotta stay humble, man."

"Shut up," You couldn't look at his blacked-out pupils, so you opted for his mouth instead.

There were little scars all over his bottom lip, and when you started to glance around his handsome face, you realized there were many more.

You adjusted your hands around the back of his neck and, in the process of studying him, found a bigger one.

"Your eye," You took a thumb to his brow, concerned despite his small chuckle.

He closed his eyes to let you check out the shape, and you noticed he had a crooked nose. It looked like he'd broken it a few times, actually.

"That's from forever ago-- just my own shitty Quirk--,"

"Your Quirk isn't shitty." You stated, surprised a Hero Course student would bash on their own Quirk so casually.

His Quirk was, honestly, pretty cool. You wished you could do half of the things he could, and you were sure countless other students in his class felt the same way.

You rolled your hips up to lock your legs, "I like your Quirk."

He was so hot and firm, it was distracting-- you immediately needed to know if it would fit. A breathy laugh pushed past his lips and he looked down, away from you, with an identical thought.

Your lips were barely an inch apart when he looked back up, conflicted and bothered in many ways.

"I really like when you do that," He muttered, focused entirely on your glossy bottom lip.

You did a lot of things but boiled it down to either the grinding or the compliment.

"I...really like you, too--"

For some reason, his trailing off sounded like he was about to say 'but,' which didn't make any sense. You started to frown. You thought all the feelings were pretty uncomplicated, here.

"--But I wanted to take you to dinner, first."

A smile that was so big it hurt stretched across your face. That was the cutest, hottest thing you ever heard.

Your palm flattened against the side of his head and he followed your gentle lead, like a puppy on a leash, just happy to be there. Happy to please.

You considered it, only because he looked genuinely apologetic.

But he adjusted you a little on his hips, and his fingers were edging onto your bare skin, and you lost your train of thought.

"We can worry about dinner tomorrow," A mumbled solution was quickly swallowed by his hungry mouth-- you quickly learned that he was a messy kisser, but didn't have the energy to care.

Strawberry lipgloss smeared to oblivion, he left you breathless and pained when he pulled away to sit down and enjoy your flawless neck.

His lengthy time there, hands clawing the plush of your ass, forced you to sit still and pretty on top of his confined cock.

You pushed your forehead onto his oversized shoulder, panting already at the restraint and realization that you'd have to go out in public with huge splotches of purple and green all over your neck.

He sunk his teeth into you and closed his jaw, leaving deep, puffy lines in your skin-- you squirmed away with a shaky sound, but were only met with a forearm barring you in by the lower back.

"If you don't like it rough, you can always tell me to stop," He reminded you, playful and a little condescending.

If he was going to be filthy, you wanted to return the energy.

"Mm-mm," While he was more maneuverable, you took the opportunity to press another deep, needy kiss on his big, scarred lips, "Put those teeth to good use."

Kirishima almost shied away from your sugar-sweet tone, your sudden confidence in the face of words that he had to craft very carefully. His saving grace was your subtle confirmation.

"I knew you had a thing for my teeth," He stole a few more giggly kisses and was sure to carefully take your bottom lip.

It was technically a lie-- he didn't come up with that theory on his own. Sero had to bring it up with him after he noticed your fixation.

"I've got a thing for you," You admitted.

Your hands explored his broad back, trying to fight your squirming as he switched sides and started high on the other side of your neck. His excited chuckles buzzing against your heated skin were not making it easy.

His long hair kept getting in your face. Instead of blowing the locks away, you tracked your fingers up through the back and tugged it away, but it elicited an almost automatic motion in his hips, up into you.

You laughed at his failed grab up at your fist and, with the same mocking tone he used with you, chirped, "If you don't like it rough..."

"God, you're funny too--," Kirishima sighed and pulled your shirt over your head before you could object.

"Oh."

He must not have realized your common choice to go braless beforehand, because your blank torso left a funny, flushed look on his face.

It was hard to tell, though, and your immediate understanding of his surprise demanded an apology and crossed arms with an uncomfortable chuckle, "Sorry-- I think you've got me beat in cup size."

"No-nono, they're great, fantastic, amazing," He pulled on your arms and explained so quick you had to read his lips to understand him, "I didn't mean to- I'm just-- happy I don't have to struggle with a clip."

You had to wonder how many girls he'd been with, what his expectations were, because he clearly had some experience.

As he hoisted you up, light as a feather to him, to put you on your back, you wondered if he was good. If he'd be patient with the best and worst parts.

The mattress groaned beneath his weight as he wasted no time to shift over your pretty, raised chest. When he put a fraction of his body on you, you almost gave the same reaction.

His lips and tongue on your sensitive bud almost convinced you to not ask, but your body was screaming for him to get off.

"How much do you weigh?"

You raked your fingernails through his scalp with a labored inhale and felt him smile.

"290[131 kg], around there." He kissed the bitemark he left on your breastbone and switched sides.

Half of the time, you couldn't fathom how massive he was in comparison to you, so you didn't try. But now, with practically nothing else to do than compare, it was mindblowing.

If he wasn't careful, he might risk seriously injuring you. Rough, for his size and strength, might actually be dangerous. You cringed at how unsexy it sounded to suffer a torn muscle or a broken bone because you didn't know each other's limits.

"Still not where I want to be," His canine almost clipped you as he spoke, forcing you to flinch, "Trying to get to 300."

Your thighs squeezed around his torso, shamefully turned on by the risk. He made a grumbly, understanding groan on your breast with a dose of intense eye contact.

"You like big guys, huh?"

You huffed and pushed on his enormous shoulders, "Obviously."

Another kiss to the center of your chest gave way to lower and lower toothy, ruttish kisses. He loved the way you fueled his ego by acknowledging his size.

"Can I--," You sighed, not wanting to be picky, but concerned for your pussy with his combined leverage and clumsy habits in this position, "Can I sit on your face--?"

"Yes."

That was a lot easier than you anticipated. He quickly wrapped his arms around you, determined to not let you move without his manual aid, and fell onto his back.

He was very pretty under you.

Hair splayed out, at least before he started to tie it up, his impressive body all exposed for you to admire and touch, his eyes glued to only you.

You didn't want to part from the print in his sweatpants, perfectly content grinding on it instead, but he hooked his hands beneath your thighs and pulled you up.

As disappointed as you were to part, you knew you needed this so it'd fit easier.

It took a moment to find the tiny zipper of your skirt, but when you did, Kirishima moved your hands away and did it himself, grinning at your cute frown.

"You gotta get used to me doing things for you, baby," He dropped them off of the side of the bed.

"Baby?" You repeated to yourself, more focused on the name and insinuation that he wanted to do this regularly than his head between your thighs.

He brought you out of your spinning head with a long, slow kiss to your thigh, longer and slower than he originally intended, because now he wanted to mark all of you up.

Another bite reminded you--

"Be careful with your teeth- please."

The chewing on your other leg paused, and he chuckled against it, "Of course."

A slow, gentle kiss through your thin, soaked undies, "I'm real careful when I wanna be."

Your posture struggled to stay up already. You took a fistful of his hair and screwed up his ponytail as his arms held you down, fingers hooked into the fabric.

The sharp, invasive noise of a door opening and a familiar, scratchy voice shot your body with a stiffness you had never felt before.

"Hey Dumbass, let's get this over with already, I wanna--,"

Two pairs of red eyes widened at the same exact time as you caught your breath to scream bloody murder.

Kirishima pushed you into the mattress with a Hero-like quickness, shushing your shrill curses and smothering your body with his comforter and own body.

It was far too late. Bakugou was standing stock-still at the open door, hand struggling to find it again in order to close it, while he stared open-mouthed and beet red at his buddy.

Despite you yelling at him to get out, fuck off, get lost, and the like, he only listened to Kirishima when he was told to, 'Wait outside the door for a sec, man.'

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," He leaned over you, breathing hard and on the verge of tears, "It's okay, you're okay--,"

"It's not!! It's not! You didn't lock the door?!"

"The dorms here don't have locks," He explained, way too calm for your liking.

You repeated, 'Don't have locks,' until you could find another thing to focus on.

"He saw me," You got worked up again, sniffling, "He--,"

"Awww, nonono," Kirishima lifted you up into a strong hug and kissed the side of your head, "I promise he doesn't care, baby. He's not that kinda guy."

It was too much, you were just with him in the gym and now he saw you, completely nude, sitting on his best friend's face. You wanted to leave immediately.

"I'm gonna talk to him, okay?"

He tried to let you go, but you stayed latched on, making him laugh. He grabbed a stray shirt from his bedframe and smelled it, then offered it as a replacement.

You first wiped the tears off of your face with it, hasty and angry, then mumbled as he stood back up, "Beat him up or something."

"I'll try," He joked and gave your leg a little rub before leaving to meet Bakugou in the hall.

His absence was sobering.

The very first thing you did was shimmy yourself into his gigantic t-shirt, with an obnoxiously long inhale through the dark grey cotton. His scent was like a shot of morphine.

Then, you sat very still, his collar over your nose, comforter still confining you like a caterpillar, to listen to the sounds of hushed voices right outside the door.

Why the hell didn't you knock--?

Don't get pissy at me! You're not supposed to have chicks in your room!

Bro, you KNEW how I felt and you KNEW she was over.

And YOU knew that Stats assignment was due at six. YOU asked ME to come over at 5.

It wasn't quite Kirishima throwing punches, but he did sound upset for you. You linked your fingers together and stared at the door.

I thought I made it pretty clear what I'd be doing for the next few hours, man.

No, No, No, and you still haven't. Looks like you beat the shit out of her! What the hell is on her neck?!

Dude, come on, you've never seen a hickey? Oh, waaait--

Don't.

There was a moment of tense quiet, and you were still holding out hope for Kirishima to kick his loud friend's ass, but it never came.

Let's just hurry this up.

The doorknob twisted then returned without opening. You pulled the shirt back down where it was supposed to go. More heated words, then Kirishima reappeared with an initial look that could kill. It was replaced with a polite, mom-pleasing smile at you.

"Hi," He waved, then glanced behind the door, "I hate to ask, but--"

"Move." Bakugou reappeared and didn't even spare a glance in your direction.

Despite Kirishima's warnings, went straight to the desk and sat a bag down, his permanent grumpy face no indicator of what he was thinking or what he felt.

Instead of joining him, Kirishima sat on the mattress next to you, found your skirt in the process, and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Like I said, he doesn't care," He rolled his eyes back to Bakugou, then sighed at how adorable you looked in his bed and the blunt pain in his pants.

His hand rested on the side of your face, the pad of his thumb dusting over your puffy bottom lip. He leaned in to kiss you.

"Oh my god, let's go," Bakugou clicked on the online assignment.

"Would you chill the fuck out?" Kirishima spat, his face dropped to one of bitter annoyance.

Red flag or not, you couldn't tell through your rose-colored glasses. You liked how upset he got over not spending alone time with you right now.

Even Bakugou, who knew him a lot better, a lot longer, than you, looked surprised to hear that tone leave his mouth.

Ever trifling, he shook it off and reminded him as he walked over, "Coulda done this shit two weeks ago."

As they shared more passive-aggressive words, you realized all you could do was sit there and stare at a wall. Your phone was on the desk next to Bakugou's hip, so there was no quality distraction for you.

You started counting the stripes on your skirt, then pleats, then stitches.

That got boring, so you started trying to look at what was on the shirt he gave you. Some old red guy.

He had the same old Hero on a few posters in his room. Crimson Riot-- you realized he must've modeled his whole Hero theme from him. The name and vibe were pretty similar.

He had a lot of pillows. Your understanding was that guys usually had two, or just one. But he had seven on his bed. Maybe he had sleeping problems? Or maybe he just liked pillows. Hopefully not like that.

You wondered why he kept someone like Bakugou around as a best friend. You were still pissed off at him, so it was hard not to stare, but you could get away with steeping in your frustration a while longer.

Not only was their Class better-known throughout the school for being really stupid and really great, but Bakugou was the acme of stupid and great, so every rumor and preconception you had was confirmed, so far, with his behavior. Just as much of an asshole as everyone says.

But it must've meant something that Kirishima liked him. Either Kirishima was meaner than he was letting on, or Bakugou was nicer. You hoped it was the latter.

They were stuck on a problem, and while Kirishima didn't seem to care so much, Bakugou was losing it over his own answer being wrong.

Apparently, their assignments had slightly different questions. Modeled the same, but with different values. And Bakugou couldn't figure this one out.

You got tired of hearing him repeat himself, how he had to be right, how the person who made this version of the assignment put something in wrong.

Although you had different teachers for Statistics, the material couldn't have been entirely dissimilar. You stood and realized you didn't even need the skirt-- his shirt was like a sundress.

"I didn't think Hero Course students took normal subjects," You tiptoed over to the desk, on the opposite side as Bakugou, and kept your eyes fixated on the problem on the screen.

Maybe if Kirishima wasn't distracting you, you weren't distracting him.

You mumbled under your breath, "Events which occur randomly... rate r counted over... period of length s so... event count X is Poisson...Find P of X is 2, X is... okay, ummmm," You tucked your lip between your teeth and stole the paper from Bakugou's side to record all of the given elements of the question.

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms as you started explaining in much clearer detail what they all stood for, why it seemed like a bunch of mumbo-jumbo, and answered his sometimes mind-bogglingly stupid questions with enviable patience.

It was starting to become obvious that Kirishima was not perfect. He even struggled with basic math.

One could argue that based on the number of times you caught him looking at the hem of his shirt on your thigh, it was safe to assume that maybe he had something else on his mind, too.

"Sooo, that would mean...?"

Kirishima leaned forward, two strong forearms on either side of you, to type his answer into the box.

Your tummy was doing flips as he rolled his chair closer, face pressed into your waist.

A little green checkmark appeared. He pulled you in by the opposite hip and kissed your side while Bakugou snatched up the work you helped Kirishima do.

"You're such a good teacher," Was mumbled low and smiley into the softness of your waist-- you cringed away, but once again, he held you still.

Bakugou didn't acknowledge it. But he didn't shoo you away or make any comments when Kirishima tugged you into his lap.

First, you shoved his shirt down so there wasn't a repeat of last time, and then, you tried to keep your pitiful protests to yourself once he started bouncing his leg up and down.

He pressed you to the edge of the desk so he could still write and type while Bakugou basically just told him what to do.

After that question, there weren't any more mistakes that needed fixing.

Which was fortunate considering that you would be incapable of forming a cohesive sentence. The constant force of his thigh was absolute heaven against your neglected pussy.

You kept face until Bakugou began to gather his things to leave. When he turned to place a textbook in his bag, Kirishima snaked an arm around your waist and started to add to the marks he left on your neck earlier.

Your thighs squeezed and you clawed at his knee and his wrist. He bit your ear in return and shoved his face into your hair.

The blond slung his bag over his shoulder.

Kirishima briefly came back to the real world with a quick dap-up and, "Take care, dude. See ya tomorrow."

"Yeah," Bakugou glanced at you, then back at his buddy, "Be safe."

taglist:

@dough-yo-bu @yellowflowerbub @fairywriter-oracle @kirismoon

@kwiwin @cringingmemeries @leo6472 @nijha2tact

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kirbyystar · 10 months

Text

MDNI // 18+

warnings: aged up Yuta + smut + praising + afab!reader (she/her) + crying + blowjob a/n: ok this was a draft I just quickly wrapped up loll not edited so please excuse any mistakes thank u

masterlist

YUTA who adores everything about you. He'll hold you from behind as you cook his favorite dinner meal, just to turn you around and say, "Are you making what I think it is?" You giggle in reply as you turn to stand at him, his arms hugging your waist.

"Of course, I know you have been working a long week so I wanted to treat you!" He attacks your neck with kisses as a response, causing you to squirm in his arms, "Yuta!!"

"You know you're right, I have been working too much.. I miss you,' his words trail off once he stares into your eyes, using his hand to hold your chin in place, "Really really miss you."

"Well I'm cooking your fav-"

"I know I know, and I'm thankful. Thank you, love. But can I just..." his words close off once your lips connect with his. The taste of peach hinted on Yutas lip, what caught your attention more was his arm tightening around your waist, the other sliding down to your neck.

"You know how beautiful you look right now y/n? fuckk."

The events were obviously quickly turned. That make-out session earlier only made you want Yuta. He always had his way, never losing or giving up when he wanted you. The best part was he always took his time with you, no matter what. He cherished and loved every single thing about you.

You look up at Yuta with your eyes filled with tears peeking at the corner. His hand grabs a handful of your hair as you kept circling his dick with your tongue. He was very sensitive- too sensitive it's not that hard to make him moan.

"Rightt there." He huffs out, you took him all in at once, and you resisted trying not to gag, he was a decent long size but it took a lot for you to fit it all in your mouth, "fuck. you can take it can't you?"

Not a moment after, he guides you on his cock back and forth, and your hands find themselves trailing up to his side, it was beginning to be too much for your mouth, "c'mon love. you look beautiful, soo beautiful." his words didn't stop, not like you didn't want them to stop anyways.

Only humming on his cock was your response, more tears fell down your cheek from how good it felt even if felt like you couldn't take it any longer, Yuta was doing his magic.

It didn't take any longer when he let go of your hair, his body falling back against the bed, "Baby," he whined out, you knew what it meant. You took all of him out of your mouth, only sucking on his puffy tip, using your hands to work up and down on him. You kept your eye contact on him purposely, he loved seeing you in this view. Another whine came out of Yuta, and not long his white ropes landed all over your face. You managed to catch some on your tongue, tasting him while you hum at Yuta, "How was that baby?"

He's still lying down, panting before he smiles at you, "Amazing, Always amazing baby. Fuck." You both laugh at each other, "I'll treat you, baby, promise. I'll make you feel good yea?" He asks out to you as he reaches to pull you in to lay on his chest. You only nod in response, tracing a finger against his chest, "Are we still going to eat dinner after? I made it for you ya know.."

Yuta laughs at your words, reassuring you he will. For now, he was ready to eat his own dinner.

#jjk #jjk yuta #yuta okkotsu #yuta smut #jjk yuta smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #yuta x reader #yuta okkutsu #yuta jujutsu kaisen #writers on tumblr #i hope you all enjoy!#blog #jujutsu kaisen yuta okkotsu #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen yuuta

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twost3ps · 5 months

Text

I wanna make some hazbin x scott pilgrim au inspired art where Adam is Ramona and Lucifur is Scott

The scenario is this:

After adam dies and comes back as a sinner, after all that angst, all that trial and error, Lucifur makes moves on Adam and finally, FINALLY, gets him to say yes to a relationship.

Man thought it was over.

Lucifur: Adam, I'm so glad you're finally mine ☺️

Adam: Um.. about that...

Lucifur: what?

Adam: you need to fight my seven exes....

Lucifur: what????

And then Lucifur has to fight Adam's exes as said before and it goes from easy to hard and I giggle in my seat.

My roster is this- easiest to hardest, why im choosing them:

7- Mammon (greedyguitar/firstchristmas)- I think this ship is hilarious and I feel like it :3 it would make Luci be like: WHAT??? HOW??? They met on an extermination day, found eachother funny and had a good fling for a while. They're still good friends actually and when Adam go revived as sinner, he would contact Mammon from time to time without Lucifur knowing

6- ??? -dunno so help me decide :3

5- Eve (edit:edenapple)- this is obvious an a duh the original pookies bro bffr 🙄

4- Azrael (deadlyguitar or deathmetal idk) saw this one. Snatched it. It's mine now I'm gonna love them forever as well. They met when Adam was retrieved from the earth on his death bed. Adam found him kinda hot.

3- Raphael (idk haven't made one yet/maybe greenthumb? Bcz Adam was a farmer and Raphael's color is green)- Idk I just feel like it. Raphael is the angel of healing if I'm not wrong. Healing both physically and spiritually, so Adam went to him for therapy and they kissed cuz I said so.

2- Gabriel (i can't choose between guitaramp or guitarspeaker) - Along with Micheal, he was another oc ship I had in my draft sketches. Couldn't tell you why. Fun dynamic tho for me bcz my Gabriel is a loud mouth gossip. They met in Adam's last years of life and in heaven, Gabriel being Micheal's second in command, met Adam often during his training. They're silly

1- Micheal- it's me... come on... this is my whole account... but i had this boy in my sketches before I revived this account. But yeah, he was Adams friend in Eden, guide and mentor in heaven, and is mad protective of Adam even after the falling out. Also Luci and him need to brawl is for their own good. Love the brother angst ❤️

Lucifur is shocked at how many guys Adam has actually dated/been with, and Adam is just openly bisexual. He just doesn't tell anyone, tho or really show it lol

I need to show you guys my interpretations of the archangels like,,,, soon omg... but for now you're gonna have to guess until I make that art hhhh

Idk who to put in for 6 tho...

And before I anyone says Lute or Lilith, I wanna keep the ratio of the 6 guys 1 girl like how it is and I just don't think either fit, atleast for me.

Lilith... nah... I feel like she's a mix of Kim, Envy and Knives in the sense (scotts exes) of this au and for Lute- I just don't ship Guitarspear. Don't get me wrong, it's a great ship but I saw they're dynamic as more of silly dad and his feral child. I like that dynamic way more for them so yea.

But if you have any ideas for who 6 should be either send it to me in asks, comments, dms or any other way cuz I genuinely have no idea who the last person would be :')

I feel like they should be somone with a long history with Adam so no one from the hotel :/ which is why this is so hard to choose 😭😭😭😭😭😭

I was tempted to do st peter (holynotes) for a giant laugh but I don't think so??? Maybe??? BRUH IDK USBEBEHSBSJEKWWK

Please send help I beg 🙏🙏🙏🙏

#adamsapple #hazbin hotel #guitarhero #micheal hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel michael #lucifer morningstar #adam hazbin hotel #lucifer x adam #scott pilgrim au #guys please send me ideas im actually begging you

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mariposa-writes · 2 years

Text

Good Sleep - LaMelo Ball

Summary: hate writing these, so just read and find out.

A/N: This man is the love of my life (and his brothers).

It was hard, dating an NBA player. Not that it was Melo's fault. He tried to make things as easy as possible. He called whenever he could, making sure to at least check in on me once a day.

It wasn't like I made things any easier. I took a lot of pride in my job and it felt like a lot of the time when he was home, I was busy working.

Which is what I am currently doing. Its around midnight, when I hear the garage open, I know it's Melo. His team was supposed to get back earlier tonight, but their flight got delayed due to weather.

After a few minutes he enters our room. I moved in with him a 6 months ago, since I practically lived there full time anyways. We both also thought it would be a good way to spend more time together.

"Hey, babe." He says walking over to me and giving me a quick kiss on the lips. He heads into our bathroom, getting ready to shower. He hates how he feels after plane rides, always complaining about being dirty. "What are you working on?" He calls from the bathroom.

"Just work stuff." I respond, not having the time to explain. I have to have these reports ready by Monday. I'm a CFO for a major clothing company in the US. We are currently working on expanding to European countries.

Melo showers while I work and before I know it he's climbing into bed. "Babe," He whines, "when are you going to bed?"

"I don't know, soon." I answer, dismissively. He frowns, looking up at me from where he's laying.

"You work to hard. Your not even 22 and your the CFO for a major company. I worry you're gonna work yourself to death." Melo's always hated how hard I work. We've been dating since we were both 19.

I was getting ready to graduate college, when he was getting drafted into the NBA. Being born a genius helped me fast track my schooling and career.

I started interning with the company I currently work at when I was 17, the summer after my junior year. I started working with them when they were just a start up, but in the past four years they have rapidly grown and I've been a part of the process the whole way.

This company is like my baby and I'm the one that has to track everything to make sure we are achieving our goals. I never intended on working here this long, but I love the people I work with (the pay isn't bad either).

They promoted me to CFO when their old one left to work for a bigger company. What an idiot, they didn't have believe in the company and soon ours will be bigger than the one they are working for.

Three hours later and I'm still working, Melo's passed out. After he fell asleep I headed to the office he set up for me, not wanting to wake him.

I have a blanket wrapped around me, with my headphones in and a cup of hot chocolate sitting on the desk. Once I get this done, I'll be on Monday and present to our investors I will be on vacation for the next 9 days.

I haven't told Melo yet, wanting to surprise him since our schedules rarely line up.

I look up from my computer, when I see the hallway light turn on. I take my headphones out, knowing it's Melo. He walks into my office, frowning. "Babe, go to bed." He groans.

"Ok, just give me a few minutes."

"Nope, you always say that and then a few minutes turn into another hour or two and then you're only getting like 2 hours of sleep before you head into the office." He walks over and shuts my laptop, before pulling me out of the chair.

I whine and protest the whole way back to our bed, but he doesn't seem to care. He makes me lay down and tucks me in like I'm a little kid, before climbing in bed next to me.

Once he's in bed his, arm wraps around my waist as he pulls me closer resting his head on my stomach. "Finally, I can sleep now."

"You've been asleep this whole time." I argue.

"Yea, but now I'll get good sleep. I only get good sleep when you're with me." I smile, even though he can't see me. I continue playing with his hair, before we both drift of to sleep in each other's arms.

#lamelo ball #melo #nba #lamelo ball x reader #lamelo ball one shot #nba players #lamelo ball imagine #LaMelo Ball #Melo ball #basketball #charlotte hornets #lamelo x reader #lamelo ball fanfics #lamelo ball fanfiction #melo x reader #melo ball x reader #ball brothers

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acciopietro · 2 years

Note

Hi, I have a request.

So like Pietro and the reader are in a relationship and Pietro is really insecure about him being not able to give reader enough gifts and attention. (Reader is from a wealthy family)

He's scared that Reader could leave him for a wealthier person than him. Reader reassure Pietro that they won't leave him.

Yea, so angsty & fluff.

The reader can be gender neutral, I don't really care.

Thanks, I love how you write

Have a nice day.

anything from you - p.m.

pairing: pietro maximoff x gn! reader

summary: pietro’s unsure whether or not he’s enough

word count: 1662

tw: no!

a/n: this was such a cute idea! i apologize for how short this is, i'm trying to clear out my drafts LOL! this is unedited so if u see any grammar or spelling mistakes lmk!!!! <3

"I CAN'T ACCEPT THIS," PIETRO'S mouth had fallen agape at the sight of the small box he opened, resting it on his lap. The light flashed off of the glittering silver of the watch inside, it's glass face perfectly clear, so well made that it looked like there was nothing there. "This is... this is very expensive gift."

"You have to accept it," you grinned, shrugging your shoulders. "I saw it and thought you'd like it."

"Yes, and I-- I do, but..." Pietro opened and closed his mouth like a fish. "I have never worn something so expensive before."

"Firsts for everything!" you giggled and gave him a bashful smile. He pursed his lips, melting at the sweetness of your face, and glanced back down at the watch. Your face sunk a bit at his hesitation, and you grabbed the bag that previously held the box. "I can return it, if you don't like it."

"No, I... I love it," Pietro grabbed ahold of your hand, smoothing his thumb over the top of your knuckles before bringing it to his lips and kissing it. "Multumesc, dragă."

---

“AHA!” Pietro mumbled to himself, pulling his hand out from behind the couch cushion of the couch in the Avengers Compound’s foyer, another quarter pinched between his fingers. He was lucky enough to live there and earn a decent wage, but he certainly did not have as much disposable income as say, Tony Stark, or even Y/N L/N.

“Pietro,” came Wanda’s voice from behind him, her tone slow as though she were confused. He turned his head to see her standing there, arms crossed over her chest, eyebrow raised. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Right now, I am counting,” he said, sitting down and dumping out his pocket, muttering the numbers under his breath. “I have a total of twenty-three dollars and...seventy-three cents. But then once I add the money from my wallet, I’ll have about...”

“What do you need this for?” Wanda sauntered over, sitting across from him and his measly pile of dented dollar bills and dirty coins. Pietro didn’t respond, still counting in his head.

“Sixty-five dollars and eighty-two cents,” Pietro nodded his head, muttering under his breath. “That might be enough...”

“Nice watch,” Wanda complimented. “From Y/N, yes?”

“Yeah,” Pietro muttered, rubbing the band of it with his thumb. “They are very generous.”

“I see.”

“I want to buy them something,” Pietro told his sister. “But... I cannot really afford something very expensive, you know? So maybe something for fifty dollars. Or maybe more, but I... I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you just make them something? Or take them some place nice?”

“I could,” Pietro scratched his chin, dropping his shoulders in exhaustion. “But they’re always buying me things, I feel like I need to return the favor.”

“You don’t owe them anything, though,” Wanda told him gently. “Just because they buy you all these things doesn’t mean you need to buy them things, it just means you need to gift them with other things. Experiences, homemade things... as long as there is love in it, no?”

“I am not wealthy like them,” Pietro sighed. “What if they think I am using them for their money? I need to show them that --”

“They do not think that,” Wanda gave him a gentle look. “They love you, trust me. I was with them when they picked out that watch for you.”

“Yeah, well,” Pietro didn’t have much to say in response to that. “They’d be better off with someone who can afford to take care of them.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Wanda shook her head. “You take care of them just fine.”

“Hmph,” Pietro only shrugged and began to leave the room. “Maybe. But they could do better.”

---

“Wanda?” you said, poking your head into the kitchen. Said woman stood over a steaming pot, stirring the contents with a long wooden spoon. Vision glided into the room, holding onto a container of paprika looking triumphant.

“Found it!” he said cheerfully. He turned his head and grinned at the sight of you. “Oh, hello, Y/N. Did you want some paprikash?”

“Maybe later, thanks Vision,” you smiled. “Have either of you seen Pietro?”

“Uhm, I’d assume he’d be in his room,” Wanda guessed.

“No, he’s not in there,” you frowned, sitting on one of the bar stools. “I’ve been looking around for him all day. I think he’s avoiding me.”

You knew Wanda and Vision shared a glance, but you were too busy staring down at the ring on your finger to say anything. Pietro had gotten it for you in the early stages of your relationship; you hadn’t the slightest clue where it was from or if the gems were real, but it was beautiful and fit like a glove. That was all that mattered, anyways. You twisted it around on your finger, frowning.

“Did I upset him?” you asked Wanda. “Has he said anything to you?”

Wanda gave a quick, almost unnoticeable glance at Vision. “Erm... he’s not upset at you, no.”

“What is it, then?” you pressed. There was a pregnant pause of silence.

“Look, I think you should talk to him,” Wanda trailed off, her brows slowly raising as she glanced behind you. Vision did nothing, however he was not slick about the way his eyes widened and he mouthed, “Go!”

You whipped your head around, and before you set eyes on Pietro, the blur of his red sweatshirt caught your eye and you knew he had run off. You sighed, running a hand across your scalp.

“Sorry,” Vision apologized to you, bowing his head. “It’s... it’s your business, you and him.”

“Yes, I know,” you sighed again. “Thanks, I guess.”

“We’ll save some paprikash for you!” Wanda called out to you as you disappeared down the hallway. The lights of Pietro’s room were on, and you could hear the soft sound of a record playing from outside the door. It was Billy Joel’s The Stranger, one of his favorite American records; you had bought it for him, along with Songs in the Key of Life by Stevie Wonder and Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John.

With “Vienna” playing from the old record player, you creaked open the door. Pietro was at his desk, hunched over a piece of paper with a ballpoint pen in his hand. He was humming along softly under his breath, scribbling away and not noticing you. You walked up behind him and put a hand on his arm, bending over to place your chin on his shoulder. He jumped.

“You scared me,” he muttered, hastily folding up the paper and shoving it into a drawer. “Did you knock?”

“No, sorry,” you drew your face away from him, glancing at where he hid the paper. “Did you want me to leave?”

“I--” he hesitated. “No, I don’t.”

“Okay,” you rocked on your toes for a second before crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed. “You okay? Whatcha doing?”

“Just drawing,” he sighed, putting the pen down and leaning back in his chair. “Bored, I guess.”

“Haven’t seen you all day,” you continued.

“Been tired,” he lied through his teeth.

“Yeah, okay,” you scoffed. “You slept for like ten hours.”

Pietro’s lips quirked up. “Yeah, true.”

“What’s going on?” you asked bluntly, patting the empty space on the bed beside you. Pietro eyed it for a second, as though hesitating, before getting up and taking a seat beside you, his knees resting against yours, shoulders pressed against one another. You lifted your hand, running it through his hair. “What’s goin’ on in that brain of yours?”

“Just...” Pietro paused. “Don’t you ever... aren’t you ever upset that I can’t... that I can’t really do stuff for you?”

You furrowed your brows, unsure what he meant.

“Like this watch,” Pietro ran his thumb over the face of the shiny gold watch on his wrist, the band glinting under the soft lights of his bedroom. “It’s... it’s great. I love it. But I can’t buy you stuff like this. I can’t... I don’t have...”

“That never upsets me,” you told him honestly. “I don’t even think about that kind of stuff.”

“You could have a guy who can buy you things,” Pietro went on. “A real rich one, you know, take you shopping and whatnot.”

“I can take myself shopping,” you joked, bumping your shoulder with his. He gave a small smile. “And I don’t need that, nor do I want that. I want you, and whatever you come with is perfect.”

“Are you sure?” Pietro scrunched up his face, his pale eyes glazed over. You ran your hand through the icy tips of his hair, and he leaned into your touch like a puppy being scratched behind the ear. “Sometimes I worry that you’ll leave.”

“Leave?”

“For someone with more money,” Pietro mumbled.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you kissed his cheek. “I don’t want to leave, and I’m not going to anytime soon.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you kissed his temple. “I am.”

Pietro said nothing, his brows furrowed and his nose slightly scrunched. You put your hand under his chin, turning his face so the two of you were eye to eye.

"You are perfectly perfect, Piet,” you told him firmly. You felt his face turn hot underneath your hand. “I’ve never wished for anything more or less from you. It’s like I’m Goldilocks and you’re the porridge that’s just right."

“Mm,” was all he said for a moment, leaning into you. After a pregnant pause of silence, he said, “I don’t know what that means.”

“Yeah, I figured,” you wrapped your arms around him, hugging his side. He pressed into you, hugging you back, the warmth from his arms engulfing you. “My next gift for you will be an American nursery rhyme book. How’s that?”

He let out a laugh, holding you tighter. “Anything from you is perfect.”

---

translations:

"Multumesc, dragă." - Thank you, darling.

taglist:

@niallhoransupremacy @childishnewt @criesinlies @fairydxll @cassiestars777@mcximffs @minbeatriz16 @slvtforfictionalcharacters @kaqua @thorrealgf @pagesbetweensheets @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @eichenhouseproperty

#pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro marvel #pietro maximoff x yn #pietro #maximoff #mcu #pietro maximoff fanfic #fanficiton #pietro maximoff fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson #atj #wanda maximoff #vision

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hrts4hanniehae · 9 months

Text

clutch || one

there are written parts :)

the good thing about being a game streamer was that when you were famous, your salary was kind of high. the bad thing was that the streaming platform wonwoo uses... started taking a huge cut of his earnings, leading him to this situation.

voice call

"okay to be honest, wonwoo, you were kind of stupid in the sense that you didn't buy your house but rented instead."- mingyu

"2 years ago, i was broke, mingyu. i just finished university and needed a place big enough for me and seollie. this place was very cheap for the amount of space." - wonwoo

"can't you buy this place outright? you have the money... right?" - mingyu

"my streaming platform started taking 30% of my earnings. and the building's owner changed, so there was a rent increase. it'll take me a long time to buy this apartment outright. by the time i can, i'll be in debt." - wonwoo

"so a roommate!" - mingyu

"why can't you be my roommate?" - wonwoo

"i already bought myself a place. plus your apartment is really far from my restaurant." - mingyu

"so how do you come by every morning to cook me food?" - wonwoo

"my restaurant is only open for dinner. i'm a celebrity chef, wonwoo. if it was open the whole day, i wouldn't get any rest. anyways, talk to the girl. she may be quite a good roommate for you." - mingyu

"sure..." - wonwoo

she fixed her hair and checked her face in her camera again. this was her 5th try at apartment hunting. when her ex-boyfriend decided to cheat on her and steal her studio apartment, she lost many things. apparently, no one liked rooming with an artist because they were "messy" and may dirty the apartment.

"i swear if this guy rejects me i have no options left... please oh my god PLEASE let me stay here... don't screw up the interview..."

"yn ln?"

mind you, she had never seen her potential roommate's face before and she definitely did not expect someone of MODEL STANDARDS to be calling her name.

"jeon wunwoo?"

"wonwoo. jeon wonwoo."

ah... i've already screwed up.

"oh i'm so sorry..."

"it's fine. come on up."

she's funny... who the hell monologues out loud?

"so these will be your rooms. they're connected by the closet." - wonwoo

"i get two rooms?" - yn

"don't you need space to do your art?" - wonwoo

"oh. oh yea. thank you." - yn

"oh yea. i also have a dog, seollie. she's my family dog. i hope your not allergic." - wonwoo

"i'm not. I love dogs!" - yn

"that's good. also, there's only one bathroom so please remember to knock before entering." - wonwoo

"ah okay. wait but i thought we were having an interview. you're showing me around as if you've already decided i'm moving in." - yn

"are you not?" - wonwoo

"oh i am?" - yn

"i prefer to deal with things quickly. this roommate idea was my friend's, not mine. so i would really rather the first "candidate" be the last." - wonwoo

"i have no complaints. when can i move in? i promise i'll be out of here by the end of next year." - yn

"we have a deal. you can move in starting tomorrow." - wonwoo

"any roommate rules or do we draft that out tomorrow?" - yn

"... tomorrow." - wonwoo

"great. thanks. I'll be back tomorrow with my stuff." - yn

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

a/n - i screw up the tweet dates A LOT so please just ignore them most of the time okay... I don't like the dates either but my app doesn't let me remove them also i'm assuming seollie is a sheepadoodle and a female and i'm so sorry if i'm wrong but there's too little info on wonwoo's family dog to be accurate.

synopsis: wonwoo is a popular streamer known for his incredible gaming skills and good looks. He turned heads. but he hates the attention. he just wants to play games and earn money. one day he receives a letter. his apartment’s rent has almost doubled. no warnings at all. his current paycheck from streaming can’t shoulder those bills. he has no choice but to rent out his spare room. to who? a fresh art university graduate who has… 1. a stable job ✅ 2. talent for art and sculpting ✅ 3. many friends ❌ 4. social anxiety ✅ 5. no filter ✅ when his iconic cat logo gets copystriked, she comes to the rescue with a new logo for him. when his apartment’s walls start peeling, she fixes it. whatever he used to struggle with… the empty space... was now filled by her. so what does he *last player standing* do when her ex *enemy spotted* tries to take her back? heh. *clutch* he clutches.

inspired by wonwoo's gam3bo1 streams, falling into your smile & gogo squid (has hints of valorant)

pairing: streamer!jeon wonwoo x fem!artist!reader (ft. jeongcheol, soonhoon, junhao, seoksoo, verkwan)

genre: fluff, comfort, slowburn, comfort, pining, bestfriend!minghao

warnings: stalker ex, toxic ex, mentions of abuse, guns (game), cursing, hate comments, panic attacks

started: 28.12.23 ended: ?

taglist: join from my masterlist

main masterlist

smau socials

previous I next

tags! @fairyofhour @megseungmin @sun-daddy-yoriichi @woozixo @euphoric-univers @christinewithluv @haowonbins @ocyeanicc @asyre @cynthiaaax13 @superhoshisvt @bangantokchy @chimmy-bts @angelarin @daisawa @writingbarnes @jeonghansshitester

@belladaises @wonwootakemyheart @wonwooz1 @luchiet @kookssecret @caratsland @peachescreamandcrumble @thepoopdokyeomtouched @isabellah29 @leah-rose03 @yandere-stories @coupshour

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merrybloomwrites · 26 days

Text

Harry x Louis x little!reader- Any interest?

Summary: Harry and Louis, two married dominants, decide now is the time to add to their family.

Word Count: 3K

CW: mentions of abuse, talks of little space, dom/sub dynamics

AN: I started writing this and it's been sitting in my drafts for over two months. It's a dom/sub AU where everyone received a classification, and some subs (including reader) are classified further as littles.

I would consider this part the prologue since it sets up the backstory of how Harry and Louis meet Y/N. If I continue this, the rest would be in 2nd person and would follow Y/N's journey in healing from her past now that she's in the care of two kind people. It would also include scenes where she's in little space, which is why I'm hesitant to continue, as I'm not sure how that will be received. But I was drawn to writing a story that allows for the reader to be taken care of by Harry and Louis, without actually being a child.

Anyway, would love to see how this does and gauge if people are interested in reading more!

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

“He is absolutely perfect,” Louis says. He and Harry are visiting Sarah and Mitch to meet their second son, Theo. Louis cradles the two week old in his arms, amazed by how tiny he is, while Harry entertains his older brother, Rory.

“Makes you want one, huh?” Mitch asks. Louis sighs, thinking of the best way to answer this question for the thousandth time.

Because yes, he and Harry would love to be parents. But they just don’t see it in the cards for them. When they first met on the X-factor, Louis had already presented as a Dominant. The circle on his wrist had been filled in with the color red ever since he was thirteen years old. Harry’s had remained just an empty circle, signaling him as a neutral. Everyone presented between ten and fifteen years old. But then a couple weeks after they lost the show, at sixteen years old, Harry woke up with his circle now red. He soon grew into his nature, becoming a kind, yet firm dom.

It caused some tension in his relationship with Louis at first, but they worked it out and discovered how to navigate their new normal.

Mitch and Sarah both being neutrals didn’t quite understand the scrutiny that they face as a couple. Society may be changing, but people are still extremely wary of dom/dom couples, especially when they’re both male.

They’ve explained that to their friends before, saying how hard it would be for them to adopt when everyone is so distrusting of couples like them.

So instead of restating that fact, Louis replies, “With our lifestyle, I just don’t see us being able to care for a baby.” And it’s true. They always seem to be traveling, whether it be for meetings, recording music, promoting new albums or touring. It doesn’t feel like a stable environment for a child.

“What about adopting a sub? Specifically a little?” Sarah says.

This question has Louis' mind spinning. It’s not the first time this has come up, but he hasn’t thought about it for quite a while. He and Harry had discussed this years ago when One Direction first went on hiatus. But then Harry got signed to make a solo album and their lives became all about music once again.

“Think about it,” Sarah continues. “Talk to Harry. Neither of you are releasing music for a while, there’d be plenty of time for you to stay home and help them adjust. You should talk to my sister, she’s a social worker at a local shelter for abused subs. She’s really knowledgeable about all this, she could answer any questions you have.”

“Thanks, yea, I’ll see what Harry thinks,” he replies. Just then, the little one in his arms starts to cry, and Louis promptly hands him back to his mum.

He goes to see where his husband had gone off to, and finds him on the patio, listening intently to the winding, nonsensical story the toddler is telling him, while ensuring the little one doesn’t wander too close to the edge where he could stumble down the curb. Louis is once again struck by how wonderful of a dad Harry would be.

Maybe Sarah is right. Maybe now is the time for them to find someone to care for, someone who needs a home and a family.

He doesn’t bring it up to Harry that day. But the thought is constantly on his mind.

It’s a couple of weeks later, and they’re back at Mitch and Sarah’s house, along with Sarah’s sister Emily. Weeks of sleepless nights have caught up with the parents, and the other three are there to give them a much needed break.

Harry is once again outside with Rory, while Louis is in the living room feeding the baby a bottle. Emily is on the floor, surrounded by baskets of laundry that she’s folding.

They work silently for a while, Louis lost in his thoughts about his last conversation with Sarah. But when Theo falls asleep in his arms, cooing quietly, Louis can’t keep his questions to himself.

“Can I ask you something,” he says to Emily.

“Of course,” she replies.

“Sarah says you work at a shelter for abused subs.”

Emily nods in confirmation and waits for Louis to continue.

“And there are littles there?”

“Yea, more than there should be.”

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“Well littles make up such a tiny percentage of our population. And they’re only a small percentage of subs. And yet about twenty percent of the subs living there are littles,” she explains.

“Why is that?”

“Aside from young children, they’re the most vulnerable members of our society. When they’re in little space they’re dependent on those around them. Even out of headspace they’re very easily controlled. And many of them don’t even understand what abuse is.”

“I didn’t realize it was that bad,” Louis says as he wonders how someone can harm someone so innocent.

“How often are they in little space?” He asks. “The ones at the shelter?”

“It really depends on the individual. Some are little almost all of the time. Some go in and out. A couple barely slip at all.”

“But if they’re little doesnt going into headspace help them? Why would they stay up? Wouldn’t going into headspace be comforting for them?”

“You have to understand, a lot of them suffered abuse and neglect while under. They’d wake up and find that they’d been assaulted while unable to do anything about it, or that they’d been left alone the whole time without help. People would tell them they’re too much work, too needy.”

“God, how can people be so awful?”

“I ask that all the time. There’s one girl, in her early twenties. Youngest of seven kids, the only sub and little. Her siblings were all doms. And her parents just turned a blind eye and let them do whatever they wanted to her. Encouraged it even, said it was practice. Even let other people use her, for a fee of course. Luckily a couple months ago the right person found out about it and called the cops. She’s been in the shelter ever since.”

“The poor thing,” Louis says, trying to block out the awful images her story is making in his head.

“Yea, I think she’s only been in headspace once or twice since she’s been at the shelter. She always wants to be aware of what’s going on around her. Despite everything she’s still such a sweet girl.”

Before Louis can ask another question the back door opens, and Rory comes running in, Harry trailing behind him. Sensing that he’d interrupted a conversation he asks, “Whatcha guys talking about?”

“Emily was telling me about her work at the shelter for submissives,” Louis replies, not wanting to say more in front of the curious three year old.

They spend the rest of the day there, Harry cooking dinner for everyone. By the time they leave, Mitch and Sarah are looking refreshed and Louis can’t help the warm smile on his face when he sees them with their kids, a perfect, happy family.

He drives home, Harry watching him from the passenger seat. They’ve been together long enough for Harry to know something is stirring in Louis' head, but he’s not sure what it might be.

“That was fun today,” he says in order to start the conversation.

“Yea, it’s always nice to hang with them and help out,” Louis replies.

“I had fun playing football with Rory. I mean, he’s better than me but who isn’t?” He says with a laugh. Louis chuckles lightly and Harry continues, “How was it hanging with Emily? You guys talked about the shelter for abused subs right?”

Louis takes a deep breath before saying, “Yea. It was a lot. I didn’t realize how bad it could be. Especially for littles.” He’s quiet for a moment before adding, “Did you know how many littles end up in shelters? And some of them are too scared to go into their little space because of all the abuse and neglect. It’s just awful, Harry.”

Without a doubt this is what’s bothering Louis, and Harry takes a moment to collect his thoughts. He’s about to reply when Louis says, “Do you remember when we considered it?”

“Considered what?”

“Adopting a little,” Louis replies.

“Yea,” Harry says. “I remember. We couldn’t because I got signed.”

“It wasn’t the right time then.”

“And you think now would be?” Harry asks.

“I do. If you still want that.”

“I think I would, yea. And you, do you want this too?”

Louis smiles and replies, “I really do. I mean, growing up with all my younger siblings, there’s a part of me that’s always loved taking care of others. And if we can help even one person heal from a terrible situation, then yea, I want to do that.”

“Okay,” Harry says. “Then let’s do this.”

They pull up at their house just as they make this decision. Putting the car in park Louis turns to lean over the center console and give Harry a kiss.

“I love you,” he says and Harry replies with the same.

They wait a couple more days to make sure they’re serious about their decision and then ask Emily if she could meet up with them. She comes to their home for lunch, and though they didn’t say exactly what they wanted to talk about, she had a pretty good idea.

So she isn’t surprised when Harry asks, “how might we go about adopting a little?” as soon as lunch was served.

“Sorry,” he says. “Didn’t mean to blurt that out right away. It’s just, we decided a few days ago that this is what we want to do, and I know that it’s probably going to be quite a process, with us being two male doms and everything so I just want to get started as soon as possible I guess. And I know there’s probably a million things we need to do and learn and-” he cuts off his rambling and mutters one more quiet sorry.

“Don’t be sorry,” Emily says. “It’s refreshing to see someone so eager and excited. You’re right that there is a bit of a process involved and it usually is more difficult for two male doms. But the two of you have a couple advantages, especially the fact that you’ve been married for over a decade. And people only ever have nice things to say about the both of you. You’re two celebrities that haven’t been in any sort of scandal since before the wedding. That’s impressive. Nearly unheard of. Proves you both have good character.”

“So you think it’ll be possible? That we’ll get approved?” Louis asks.

“Oh yes. I don’t want to get your hopes up too much by saying it's definite, but I have a good feeling it will go how you’d like it to.”

Hearing those words calms down the couple, and they listen closely to the process Emily describes.

They enjoy lunch and as Emily leaves she says, “If you come to the shelter Monday we can get the paperwork started.”

“We’ll be there,” Louis replies and Harry says, “Thank you so much, for all of your help.”

“I’m happy to,” Emily says. “I’ve known you guys for a while, it would make me immensely happy to see a sub in your home. I know the two of you will take excellent care of a little in need.”

Her parting words leave them feeling hopeful all weekend, and they enter the shelter Monday afternoon full of nervous excitement. Emily greets them and brings her straight to her office, passing by a day room on their way.

There’s a chorus of “Good Afternoon Miss Emily” as she passes and she replies “Good afternoon everyone. I hope you’re all having a good day so far.”

Harry and Louis glance in the room, seeing a dozen people. They’re all engaged in different activities such as reading and games like scrabble.

“This is one of two day rooms, meant for our older residents. Basically anyone not in headspace can hang out here. There’s another day room upstairs full of games and crafts where we bring anyone who is in a little space and is roughly three or up mentally. The nursery and sleeping spaces are upstairs as well.”

She leads them a little further before entering a room with her name on the door. She motions to the chairs in front of her desk and Harry and Louis sit down.

“Here are the basic forms to get started,” she says, handing each of them a stack of paper and a pen. “Get used to this, everything needs to be documented in extreme detail so there’ll be plenty of these to fill out.”

They all laugh as the two men get to work writing their information. After a couple minutes Emily’s phone rings. After a brief call she says, “Excuse me for a moment,” and steps out.

Then minutes later the door opens, but instead of Emily it’s a young man.

“Hello, I’m Eric Maas, one of the case workers here. Miss Jones is helping one of the residents and it’s requiring a bit more of her time than she expected so she asked me to check in on you,” he says.

After quick introductions they spend some time going over the form, and Eric answers any questions that Harry and Louis have. After another few minutes everything is set and Eric leads them back outside and they head home.

That evening they get a text from Emily that reads, “Sorry about earlier, one of the girls I’ve been working with finally slipped to little space. It’s only her third time doing that with us and it had been weeks since that last time so I had to stay with her”

After reassuring her that they completely understood she sent another message saying she’d submitted their forms and they should hear back soon.

As expected, the process takes a number of weeks. There’s background checks, home visits, and about a million more forms, but finally, they’re approved.

Now it’s time to start the next task of finding the right submissive. Harry and Louis are invited to spend a couple days visiting the shelter and interacting with the residents. At the end of the second day they’re back in Emily’s office.

“So,” she begins. “Is there anyone who you think will be the right fit for you?”

“I’m not sure,” Harry answers. “They’re all such lovely people, but I’m not sure we’ve really clicked with anyone yet.” He looks to Louis who is nodding in agreement.

“Did you guys meet Rachel or Y/N?” Emily asks.

“I don’t think so, no,” Louis replies.

“I really think you’d get along well with both of them. Is it alright if I have them come here to introduce you?”

“Yes, that’d be fine with us,” Harry says.

Emily steps out and comes back a few minutes later, a woman in her late twenties following behind. “This is Rachel,” she says.

“Hello sirs,” says Rachel with a smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” says Louis before he and Harry introduce themselves to her. They spend a few minutes talking, observing her demeanor and learning a bit about her. After a little while Emily leads Rachel out to lead her back to the dayroom.

“She seems nice,” Louis says.

“I agree. I could see her as part of our family.”

They don’t have time to discuss more, as Emily is now back with another girl. She’s younger, probably early twenties, and definitely more shy. She keeps her head bowed, not making eye contact with any of the doms in the room.

“Y/N, can you say hello to these gentlemen?” Emily says.

She looks up, and Harry and Louis offer her an encouraging smile.

“Hello sirs,” she says in a timid voice. Her hands are clasped behind her back, another physical sign of submission, but they can tell she’s picking at her nails nervously.

“I’m Louis, and this is my husband Harry. Would you like to take a seat?”

Her eyes dart between the three others, as though unsure what she should do. Emily finally says, “Y/N, take a seat on the couch.” It’s said gently, but firmly, a clear command, and Y/N quickly does as she’s told.

She sits on one end, glancing over at the two men and seeing their kind smiles. Harry and Louis ask her some basic questions, and after a few minutes she leaves the room.

“She’s quite shy,” Louis remarks once she’s left.

“Do you remember the girl I mentioned that day at Sarah’s? With all the dom siblings?” Emily asks.

It clicks together in Louis' brain and he says, “That’s her?”

“It is,” she replies.

“I’m sorry, what is her story?” Harry asks. Emily tells the story again, and by the end, Harry’s eyes are swimming with tears.

“Why don’t you boys take some time to think it over?” Emily suggests.

Harry shakes his head and says, “Lou, I want to help her. I want to give Y/N a safe home. I really think we can do it, we can show her what it’s like to be loved.”

Louis looks at the determination in his husband's eyes and takes a deep breath. “I think we can, too. It won’t be easy, not with everything she’s been through, but I believe we will do everything we can to help her heal.”

“So, Y/N is the one?” Emily asks.

“She is,” Harry replies, Louis nodding beside him.

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AN: Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear any feedback, even likes will determine if this gets continued since they show if there's an audience for this.

#harry styles x louis tomlinson x reader #louis tomlinson x reader #harry styles x reader #one direction fanfiction #one direction x reader

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