#and i could go on for So Long about how rey forcing five to have long matted uncut poorly cared for hair that feels miserable

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

i am Thinking about nine and his hair, how his relationship with it and autonomy, and with caring for himself through it--and lack of such--are so much of a direct response to the type of abuse he went through from sandor, and to escaping from it, and how it is a near perfect foil to five's relationship with his hair and augh AUGH chews on a table it's so interesting and i could write so much about it, i really really wish they had kept NL!nine for that alone

[lanormie]

blipped - mcu crossover au (pt. 5)

what if? the event of Thanos snap happened in the BNHA universe? you're forced to navigate the aftermath of The Blip, where half of the population get thrown back into existence after disappearing for five years. pairing: pro-hero!Shouto x f!pro-hero!reader (ft. slight katsuki x reader) read on AO3 previous part - next part

Hawks has you started right away, and you’re thankful for it. Time spent idle is time to dwell, even time spent with Shouto in Fuyumi’s room catching up with her stock of mangas does not occupy your mind enough to soften the agony.

So here you are, on a roundabout train route (cause who knows when the direct route is going to get restored) across town to your new agency at 5 in the morning. You’ll need to find a new apartment soon, commuting like this everyday will be time consuming, not to mention hellish with how much it allows you to steep in your thoughts. On top of that, Shouto is helping Rei bring his Dad home this morning, and even though the man will be unconscious, you’re not too keen on existing in the same space as him.

You and Endeavor share a mutual disdain towards each other. The whole time you grew up with Shouto and around the Todorokis, he didn’t speak more than a handful of words to you, only pinning you with a hateful glare whenever he called your friend away. Once severe wounds started showing up on Shouto and he started becoming defiant, you two would start coming up with schemes to get him out of training, or simply sneak away on days he didn’t particularly feel like dealing with his Dad.

And after you found out you also got into UA, your cousin mysteriously got a once in a lifetime job offer in another city, and you had to move away the week before school started, your dream of taking part in the most prestigious hero course crushed. Surprise surprise, you found out later that it was Endeavor who pulled some strings to relocate her, but there was nothing you could do at that point.

As soon as you became independent, you returned to your hometown to find the man had mellowed out a bit. But still, the bastard never offered an apology.

And you’re not about to spend any significant amount of time around him, no thanks.

You open up the rental app on your phone to start an apartment search around Hawks’ agency, and your eyes pop out of their socket.

.

You:

you won’t BELIEVE how much apartments are going for

i might have to sleep under my desk

Sho:

I was talking to Natsuo yesterday

He said a lot of housings were converted into commercial space

Since they were all sitting empty

And now the ones that are left are quickly filling up

You:

yikes

i doubt anything will get passed fast enough to stop the price gouging

anyway

you ready to see sleeping beauty?

Sho:

?

You:

your dad

Sho:

Absolutely not.

Thankfully I have some paperwork I have to do after

So I won’t have to stick around for long once he’s home

I have to go now

I’ll see you later

* * * * *

You’re only one step deep in the door before a feather snatches your bag away and another swoops you backwards and up into the air by your tool belt. You catch a glimpse of Touya two-finger saluting you from one of the upper floor windows on your way up to Hawks, who’s already on the move.

“Morning!” He chirps, looking five coffees deep already at 8AM. “My staff’s gonna handle your paperwork, you’re with me today, hope you don’t mind.”

“Are you kidding?” You flip over and speed up to catch up with him. “I’d rather be out here than sifting through 500 pages of jargon.”

“You’re speaking my language.” He calls the feathers back to his gliding wings now that you’re flying on your own. “Didn’t think you would call back so soon.”

In the whipping winds, you only mutter a barely audible ‘yup’ that tells Hawks everything he needs to know. He slows down to hand you an earpiece.

“If it helps, your old place has terrible PTO policies.” His voice crackles on comms.

“Hey!” You snort. “They were practically raised by Eraserhead, have you seen the man? How can they possibly know anything about time off?”

Hawks full-belly laughs at this, the echoes of his voice in the wind and the sound from your earpiece reverberate in a way that is kind of…foreign.

Right. You’re not with your friends anymore. Mina is not cackling on comms at something Toru said. Denki and Kiri are not talking over each other. Kyoka is not using the wrong channel to flirt with Momo. The one zooming in front of you is not Shouto, Izuku, or Tokoyami.

Or Katsuki.

A page has been turned, yet you’re still wedged in between chapters like a bookmark.

“Trouble’s ahead.” A voice cuts through your gloom. “Robbery on 35th.”

“Put me to work, bossman.” You straighten up, eager to put your inner turmoil on the backburner.

From this point on, you’re truly going it alone.

* * * * *

“You are not going it alone.”

Shouto looks up from his spot at the conference table, where you found him after coming back from patrol with Hawks. You had been led here to finish signing some papers, and you opened the door to Shouto sitting in front of his own contract. He reminded you that ‘I did say I would see you later’, as if that was enough information. So here you are, arguing about how a decision as important as an agency switch should not be made on a whim.

“You can drop the papers off by my desk when you’re done.” Hawks’ personal assistant gives you both a polite smile before making her exit, closing the conference room door behind her.

Trying to ignore the fact that you just made an awkward first impression on the lovely lady, you turn back to Shouto.

“What about your friends?”

“They’ve gone on without me for five years. I doubt my absence will make an impact.”

There’s a tick of something adjacent to sadness in his statement. It’s still spoken as evenly as ever, but it’s void of his usual nonchalance. You suddenly realize, that this is the first time in the past week he lets shown - albeit through a tiny glimpse - that he is not as unaffected by the whole situation as you thought he might be.

Shouto too was misplaced in time. He too is now a jagged piece in the puzzle. In one way or another, you two have each other to commiserate. 

That is until your pursuit of abandoning everything, where you’ve accidentally abandoned him as well.

Your argument dissipates into thin air.

“Do you think we’d ever catch up?” You take a seat next to your two-toned friend.

“I don’t think we need to.” Shouto pens his signature at the bottom of a page, then turns to you. “I’d rather focus on what’s right in front of me.”

You blow air through your lips, completely missing the hint of fondness in his phrase. “You’re probably right, things will get very tense very soon.”

Grabbing a pen nearby, you move to look through your own paperwork, just as a loud knock comes through the…windows? On the 8th floor?

You both look up to see Touya slap a piece of paper onto the glass before getting promptly yoinked away by Hawks. It says in obnoxiously large letters ‘5000 yens. On my desk. Tomorrow. Loser.’

Shouto looks back at you.

“You are very prone to being blackmailed.”

* * * * *

You had managed to explain it was a bet that you didn’t agree to take part in, instead of a blackmail, before Shouto dozed off like he always does on train rides.

You haven’t taken a train with Sho since middle school, so this is extremely nostalgic. You two would always start watching some show or video on his phone with shared earbuds, then he would slip right into a coma half way through, earbud still blaring.

Except now he is a head taller and when he tips over in your direction, his cheek would knock painfully against the top of your noggin.

“You got shorter.” He mumbles groggily, hand reaching for the hood of your hoodie and flipping it over your head.

“Maybe I lost some particles getting put back.” You snort, watching him put up his own hood. “Or maybe it’s your Dad’s genes finally kicking in.”

“That would not be good news for doorways.” He resettles on your head, now that it’s properly cushioned. “Speaking of my Dad, are you okay with him being there?”

“Sho, it’s his house.” You remind him. “Plus, he’s not exactly awake to stare me down or kick me out.”

“Still. He doesn’t inspire comfort.” He muses, perhaps more to himself than to you.

You shrug, and Shouto goes quiet for a while. For a moment you thought he'd fallen back asleep, but then you hear him suck in a breath and speak up again.

“If we can’t find our own apartment, would you like to split one with me?”

You want to turn to look at his face, but his cheek stays steadfast on your head.

You’ve never really co-inhabited with anyone before, except for your cousin. When you got an apartment, despite Katsuki staying over pretty regularly, it was still your own space. You used to prefer it like that. But now after everything, you feel like loneliness would consume you whole at any moment.

Moving in with your best friend doesn’t sound bad at all.

“Only if we keep the thermostat at a reasonable temperature.”

You swear you could feel him smile through layers of hair and fabrics.

“Deal.”

[hamsterclaw]

hey there rei my ult bias in fanfic writing ☺️

I am not sure if you grant request. I am just really bummed out with work these days. Working overseas is completely burning me out. Reading your works bring me to another dimension, and I am grateful for you always.

Seeing Namjoon yestie with his woes about how shit happens. He even mentioned specifically about relationships... (like who hurt him?)

He looks so hot(as always) but that live was just giving me a lot of angst vibes or something.

Angry sex has always been a turn on to me. I wanna relive it in your words if it'a possible? haha

Anyhow, I love you for always.

Thank you for you..

Love and light ♡

-Chant

Hey Chant, sorry to hear work is hard — living away is so tough too. I read this and thought of the dent in the wall Namjoon made that’s referenced in Five Fuck Friday and this drabble was born. Hope you enjoy it and that it helps! Sending much love your way.

Pairing: Namjoon x f! Reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Sex, swearing, spanking, angry Namjoon punching a wall

Namjoon turns off the car engine, a flick of a switch, and there’s a beat, two, of absolute silence that you know, you just know doesn’t bode well for you.

Your husband, for all his carelessness with your heart, has never once made you feel physically unsafe.

Not in all the years you’ve known him.

You’re aware of the size difference between you, how could you not be? It’s evident everyday, when you have to adjust the front seat after he’s been in the car just so you can reach the pedals, when you have to grab a stool to get something off a high shelf in the kitchen that Namjoon could reach effortlessly.

When he’s on top of you, so caught in the throes of his pleasure he forgets not to let you take his full weight. How he steals your breath in so many ways.

But, truly, your husband’s never been like this before.

He gives you a long look in the dark of the car park, a muscle ticking in his jaw. No sign of the dimples you love.

Namjoon exits the car, yanks your door open for you. He’s so close he’s crowding you, you have to turn your head to prevent your face from hitting his broad chest, the way he’s leaning over you.

‘Joon,’ you say, a quiet protest, and he scoffs.

‘Joon,’ he spits. ‘Remember me? Your husband?’

He holds up his hand, platinum wedding band glinting as you head to the entrance to your building.

‘Didn’t you put this ring on my finger, wife?’

His voice has dropped to almost a growl, and your unease ramps up a notch.

‘Answer me,’ he snaps, when you’re in the lift to your floor, glowering at you, so big he takes up almost an entire side of the tiny lift.

You force yourself to look up at his face.

‘I did,’ you say, fighting to keep your voice steady.

Namjoon watches as you fish your keys out of your bag, try unsuccessfully to unlock the front door of your apartment.

He moves so quickly you startle, large hand closing over yours to help you turn the key, other hand braced on the door next to your head to push it open.

You flick the switch, automatically, step out of your shoes, take two tentative steps down the hallway.

‘Where. The. Fuck. Do. You. Think. You’re. Going.’

The fury in your husband’s voice makes you tremble.

You’re breathing shallowly, because he’s starting to scare you now.

The crash next to your head makes you jump, scream.

You stare in shock at the dent in the plaster your husband’s made with his fist.

Namjoon, your college fuckbuddy turned new husband, a man who’d rather fuck than talk, has just punched a hole in the wall of your shared apartment.

You turn to him, shocked into silence.

He takes a step towards you, and you flinch back against the wall.

Namjoon stops dead.

He stares at you, the anger in his face melting into dismay as he studies your expression.

‘Fuck,’ he says, but there’s no heat in his voice now.

‘Fuck, baby, are you scared of me?’

You freeze.

Namjoon drops to his knees in front of you.

‘Shit. I’d never — you know I’d never —‘

He reaches for your hand. ‘I’d never touch you, not like that,’ he says, voice hoarse, shaky.

He nudges his face into your blouse, presses his cheek to your stomach, and when you reach for him he presses into you eagerly.

‘Tell me to shut up,’ he says, looking up at you. ‘Don’t just put up with it if I’m scaring you, baby.’

‘You weren’t really scaring me,’ you tell him, and he groans.

‘I’m sorry,’ he tells you. ‘I’m fucking sorry.’

He’s nudged your blouse open now, tugged it out of your skirt, pressing kisses to your skin. His mouth, warm and wet, makes you shiver as his lips travel down your belly, to the band of your panties.

You reach down to help him unclasp your skirt, but Namjoon, a veteran of getting you out of your clothes, shakes his head. In a split second he's tugging down your skirt, exposing your underwear, your bare thighs.

He kisses your core over the cotton of your underwear, and you can feel the warmth of him through the material. You suck in a breath as his tongue pokes against your clit.

'Take it off, Joon-ah,' you moan.

Namjoon, on his knees, yanks your panties down, seals his mouth over your bare cunt. He doesn't start slow, just throws your thigh over his shoulder and kisses your cunt like he's starving for it, tongue delving deep, slurping at your arousal, swallowing audibly.

He's messy, as desperate as he's making you feel, and when you reach down to card your fingers through his hair, he groans.

He pulls back, eyes hot. 'Pull my hair, baby. Make me eat you ---'

'You like that?' you ask, breathless. Your husband's a sight to behold right now, lips gleaming with your slick, eyes hooded, hair mussed even though it's been shorter lately.

'Fuck, yeah,' Namjoon grunts. 'Fuck.'

You tug his hair, pull his face between your legs, and Namjoon opens his mouth wide, laps at your clit. His big hand moves from where he's steadying your thigh over his shoulder, and a moment later you feel his fingers pressing into you.

'Joon,' you moan.

Namjoon says nothing, concentrating on fucking you with his fingers, licking at your clit, spreading you open with his other hand.

Your fingers tighten in his hair as you come, and Namjoon moans in approval as you buck your hips into his face.

Your knees weaken, and Namjoon tugs you into his arms.

You're still pulsing around nothing when he pushes you down on your bed, undoes his belt.

You want to watch him undress but he grunts, tugs your hip.

'Turn over, ass up,' he tells you. 'You're gonna get fucked.'

You turn, and Namjoon drops to his knees again, licks a stripe up your cunt.

'Taste so fucking good,' he says, voice low, taut.

He scissors two fingers into you from behind, pulls out, and then he's nudging into you.

He feels fucking huge like this, like you can feel him all way in the back of your throat.

Namjoon groans, long and loud. 'Fuh -- uh -- uck.'

He stays completely still once he's filled you, one hand on your ass, kneading hard.

Then, he pulls out.

You turn your head to look at him in surprise.

He's hard, so hard, cock bobbing as he grasps himself.

'This is for you,' he tells you, voice strained. 'This is how fucking hard I get for you.'

You're not sure where he's going with this.

'You were flirting, weren't you, with Jia's brother, at dinner?'

You try to turn over but he's too quick.

His palm meets your ass in an open handed smack.

You squeak in surprise, try to turn over but he stops you.

'You can make it stop, you know how ---' He's stern, but you know what he's really checking.

You search your memory frantically for the safeword you agreed once when you were both drunk and horny.

'I know how,' you tell him, and Namjoon studies your face.

He nods like he's satisfied.

He spanks you again, rings cold against the flesh of your backside, and you moan.

'I wasn't.'

Namjoon laughs, darkly. 'Don't lie to me.'

He hits you again, and this time it stings so much you cry out.

You know Namjoon will keep going unless you tell him to stop.

Shit, you don't want him to stop.

Namjoon strokes a finger along your slit, enters you shallowly. You try to push against him but he pulls his hand away.

'So fucking greedy,' he scoffs.

He's still fisting his cock, and you could cry at how much you want him back inside you.

'Fine,' you say. 'I was flirting, a bit. But you were flirting too!'

For the second time tonight, your husband stops dead.

'What?'

'You were flirting with Jia and that woman with the green dress,' you point out.

You turn over, and for once Namjoon doesn't leer at your tits.

He's staring at your face.

'Did that bother you?' he asks.

You lift up your hand. Your diamond wedding band flashes. 'You put this ring on my finger too.'

For a moment Namjoon gapes at you.

'I don't want to fuck anyone but you,' Namjoon says, finally.

'Same,' you tell him.

Namjoon pulls you on top of him, mouth seeking yours. You can taste yourself on him still.

'Fuck, get inside me, Joon,' you gasp.

Namjoon grasps you tight against his chest, pulls you under him, enters you all the way in one movement.

'Fuck,' he utters. His hips move, he fucks into you, deep, slow, letting you feel every inch of the drag of his cock inside you.

You’re still so wet from his mouth and your own arousal the slide is easy, his pelvis grinding against your clit on every deep thrust.

‘Joon-ah,’ you moan.

‘I’m here,’ he tells you. ‘I’m here, fuck, it’s me.’

You curl an arm around his neck, and he drops his face willingly so you can press kisses to his cheeks as he fucks you.

‘I’m gonna come,’ he grunts. ‘You feel so good —-‘

You want to tell him it’s ok but he thumbs your clit, plunges in deep, and you moan his name again as you come. Namjoon picks up the pace, pounding into you hard until he groans and you feel him filling you with his warmth.

It’s a while before either of you say anything.

Namjoon curls an arm around you, kisses the top of your head.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says.

You run your fingers over his bruised knuckles.

Eventually you say, ‘I was a little scared.’

He sighs. ‘I know. I never want to see that again. Tell me to shut up next time.’

He nuzzles under your ear.

‘You know I’d never hurt you like that, don’t you?’ he asks.

In your heart of hearts you do know.

You want to tell him that, but what comes out when you open your mouth is, ‘are you gonna fix the wall?’

‘Yeah, promise,’ he says.

He pulls you under him, seals it with a kiss.

©hamsterclaw 2023

[allgirlsareprincesses]

Do you think that Rey's story (excluding episode 9 'cause that was a shitshow) could be interpreted as a Cinderella/Ash girl story?

I hope you realize asking me this is like throwing chum to a shark 😈. But the short answer is yes, to a point.

The long answer is more complicated, so to begin with, let's consult the Cinderella bible:

According to the Aarne Thompson Uther Index, there are five primary motifs to a Cinderella tale:

Persecuted heroine, usually by family

Help or helper, usually magic

Meeting the prince, usually with true identity disguised

Identification or penetration of disguise, usually by means of an object

Marriage to the prince

Rey is abandoned by her family, which is a form of persecution, and harassed by the inhabitants of Jakku like Unkar Plutt. Thus she clearly fulfills the first item.

As for meeting a helper, there are several for her, including Han Solo, Maz, Luke, and Leia. Any or all of these may be considered fairy godparents in the way that they offer her wisdom and material help. Further, except for Maz, they all die in the course of the story, which is consistent with many Cinderella tales in which the helper dies and their bones continue to offer wisdom and comfort to the heroine.

Next, meeting the prince. I mean

To the extent that Rey is "in disguise' here, it would be the extent of her force powers, her destiny as Ben Solo's dyad mate, and her role as the heir apparent to the Jedi (chosen by the Force to wield the legacy saber), all of which are obscured from Kylo Ren when he discovers her in the forest. Further, she is grimy and covered in desert sand, similar to how Cinderella is smeared with ashes that hide her true beauty.

So now an object penetrates the disguise. This is obviously the Skywalker lightsaber, which reveals Rey to be everything listed above, especially when she calls it to her on Starkiller Base, and again when she wields it on Ahch-to.

And lastly, marriage to the prince. As many others have pointed out over the years, Rey and Ben have almost too many symbolic marriages to count in the course of the sequel trilogy. They're extremely married, the Force said so.

BUT WAIT! Go back and look at that list again. Who ELSE fits all those criteria?

It's our boy! Consider:

He is indeed persecuted by family, most notably when Luke momentarily considers killing him.

Ben's helpers are both dark and light, as Snoke/Palpatine guide him in the dark while Luke guides him in the light (poorly). But note again what I said above about the bones of the mentor continuing to offer guidance and comfort after their death. Who should appear at Ben's lowest hour but his departed father, Han Solo? With a message of love, acceptance, and encouragement, Han's memory (because in fairy tales, bones contain memory) encourages Ben to at last cast off his beastly skin and become who he always was.

Next, meeting the prince/ss in disguise. He's wearing a literal mask when he meets Rey, so yeah.

An object penetrates the disguise? Rey slashed his face with the legacy saber, thus symbolically peeling away his mask. And I've argued before that the stabbing in TROS (which I still HATE, btw) is another cutting or burning away of the beastly skin.

And lastly, marriage to the prince/ss. As previously stated, that happened. Many times.

So yes, the Sequel Trilogy can definitely be considered a Cinderella story, with but one glaring issue: Cinderella's husband usually doesn't die at the end. But that's another topic that's been done to death, so let's all just read some more fanfic and forget about it. 👑 Thank you for the ask, this was fun!

[kaiowut99]

oh my god it's good to get to see these in-context finally

Vector's quality long-game plan, you kinda see it as a bit too good to be true that this new "transfer student" cozying up to Yuma is natural but you roll with it, then notice those quick nuanced looks the past 10-15 episodes as a little detail gets mentioned about the Barians and you start to see him look a little fishy, then "Vector" kidnaps him and has Yuma think he's dead to get him to lose his shit by also making this big reveal

And he set Yuma up with Limited Barian Force to use his fitting Vain - Sneer of Betrayal Trap on his "V" Monsters--his Hope Ray "V"

Seeing Yuma distraught at what he thought he knew crumbling, the trust he put into "Rei" all that time (and sticking up for him against Gilag ofc) working against him and even causing a slight rift between him and Astral... also, the BGM playing as this all goes down... He's being an absolute troll about it all, right down to using his Shingetsu voice to really rub salt into the wound, and yeah, it's good stuff

I did have some inkling at the twist eventually coming being in the fandom as long as I have and Vector being such a meme (but being so because he's seen as a great villain), but did my best to avoid/scroll past spoilers going into watching ZeXal for the first time the past while, and even then it was done pretty well to still make the twist land nicely.

[also, checked the dub on a whim, and it's nice the dialogue is mostly intact, but oof dub!Yuma really could not do distraught... though it was interesting that Liscio Jr. sounds like he played R[ei/ay]? Apparently Vector too, but they put a voice filter on him so even if he's supposed to be mockingly using Ray's voice it doesn't hit the same as JP!Vector mockingly going "I lured you here and you thought it was all for the beeest to involve people that didn't need to be"

Also, Durbe I think at some point in Vector's reveal originally says he's pulling "a clever move," his tone implying he's a bit annoyed at the lengths Vector's going here and that there's some history there, but that line's removed in the dub

also how dare they cut the close-up shot that got the entire episode's art budget spent on it]

bonus: me on five hours of sleep:

[secondgenerationnerd]

As it is our bi-king’s birthday (June 15th), I thought we could use some Colin-centered love 💙💜🩷

————-

Today, Colin James Wilkes is 17 years old. One more year before he ages out of the orphanage. Almost five years since he joined Omega squad. Almost 2 years since he started dating Milagro, who’s spent all day spoiling him.

Going to their favorite thrift stores, hitting the taco truck from their first date, and so much talking. He could listen to her talk for hours if he’s honest. She had been checking her phone every so often, before suddenly declaring they should head back to the tower. Now, their bags in one hand and her grip on the other, he can’t help but laugh as she pulls him to the living area.

"Diosa, slow down! We're not in any kind of rush."

"Aye, I know, mi rey, but I'm tired after being out all day." Her words are right but everything else is wrong. He slows down until she's forced to stop. "I’m just ready to set our stuff down and get some food.”

"Uh-huh...I don't suppose you're trying to get me back for a certain surprise party?" Colin asks, fighting a laugh as her head whips around. "I might not be a Bat, but I can put two and two together….plus I saw the party supplies last night."

Milagro huffs, "Promise to act surprised?"

"...Is Ma in there?"

"Yes."

He covers his heart, nodding solemly, "It will be Oscar worthy."

When they walk into the living area, Colin does act surprised when people jump out. Just Omega and their families, but still a sizeable crowd. The Supers give Colin a look, but don't say anything. The first person over to him is Martha Kent. He has to bend over to hug her properly, but she’s still as strong as ever. The kind of hug that makes him feel like that scrawny 12 year old again, warm and safe.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart. Now, I insisted on making your cake." Ma gestures to the creation on the counter. His throat tightens as he reconginzes the colors of the three layers. "I did check with Jonny to make sure I had the right flag.”

"You didn't have--"

"Colin, baby, you know I do what I damn well please.” She pats his cheek, not leaving any room for him to argue. At this point, he’s learned arguing with most of the women in his life if the dumb choice.

All his favorite food are spread out on the counter—Ma’s chili, Bianca’s barbacoa and tamales, Dick’s gushvada, the twins’ Tteokbokki, and so much more. The best playlist, clearly made by Lian and Roy with care, plays just under the roar of conversation. It takes him a minute to realize how many are talking about….him. Their favorite memories of him, funny moments they’ve had in the last few years.

Then there’s the affectionate touches from the adults. Roy and Jason ruffling his long red hair. Alberto clapping a hand on his shoulder as they laugh together. Ma patting his cheek again as she makes sure he’s eaten enough. Linda, Lois, and Bianca each hugging him so tight he can’t breathe. Dick and Wally both poking his side, the sure fire way to make him laugh. Clark fixing his shirt collar as he walks by.

All things he would have flinched at years ago.

Soon, bellies full and spirits high, the conversation starts to lull. Naturally his friends decide to cause chaos.

"Speech!" Jai shouts, golden eyes twinkling with mischief. Nudging Jon and Damian, Jai grins at his best friend, “Let’s hear it for the Bi-King!”

"Yeah! C'mon, birthday boy! Let’s get a speech."

"Speech, Wilkes! You’re always running your mouth anyway! Put it to use this time!”

He’s going to kill them. Slowly. And laugh while he does it.

Knowing there’s no way out, Colin looks at the crowded room. All these people are here for him. Celebrating him, just for being born. Not like at the orphanage where he’d get a cupcake with the other kids born in June. This is all for him.

His throat tightens uncomfortably. Taking a second to clear it, he finally addresses them. “Um….I have no idea what to say or-or where to begin…I’m not the only orphan in this room. Not the only one who doesn’t know where they come from. Not the only one who grew up in shitty homes, with adults who use their fists before their words. Being told over and over God has this plan for me. That I needed to keep my faith and all would be well. He would protect me.”

He looks down at his hands, the rings Milagro and Mar’i found for him gleaming with his reflection, “I worked so hard to keep my faith. Even when Scarecrow and Bane had me. Even when I wanted to die because…at least the pain would stop. For a long time I couldn’t understand why God… let it happen. Gave me these abilities that took away any hope of a family finally adopting me. Finding my forever home.”

Looking up, he immediately finds his teammates, “In a weird way, I should thank Him. I still think He expects way too fucking much out of children, but because of Him I’m on this team. Because I have three brothers, who I’m fully going to murder in the next ten minutes. I have three sisters, who make me laugh and scream and cry. Who know what I like and hate. Who know when I’m just being quiet and when I’m struggling. Who annoy the shit out of me….because they love me.”

He reaches to the side, knowing he doesn’t need to look, but he does. Milagro’s warm hand slides into his, dark eyes meeting his own, brilliant smile making his heart skip. “I got to meet the most incredible girl in the universe. One who challenges me every day. Who understands and shares my struggles with the Almighty. Who is incredibly out of my league and could have anyone she wanted….and she chooses me.”

His eyes flick to his friends’ parents, voice threatening to crack, “I finally have adults in my life who chose to love me. Not because of a job obligation or money. I might never know my biological parents, but I know what it feels like to be loved. To have someone take care of me during a flare up. To be taught how to shave and drive and-and how to be a good man.”

A few tears finally escape his eyes, voice breaking, “Thank you for being my family. Thank you for choosing to love me. Thank you for teaching me I deserve that love.”

Milagro’s arms are first around him. Then their teammates—his brothers and sisters—join in, making them lose balance and tumble to the ground. All of them calling him an asshole and a sap, tears in their eyes. There’s laughing. So much laughing. Not at him, but with him.

Always with him.

[seducemefanficsandheadcanons]

Soul Bound

Chapter 12- Take me to the finish line

Also posted on AO3 and Wattpad!

Feet don't fail me now

Take me to the finish line

Oh, my heart, it breaks every step that I take

But I'm hoping at the gates, they'll tell me that you're mine

Born To Die- Lana Del Rey

“I…”

BAM!

Sam and Aron let out a startled gasp, their heads shooting to look at the door. Her ears rang from the loud gunshot, her blood running cold.

Sam rushed out immediately and she followed, completely ignoring the risks James had warned her about; truly she didn’t care. As soon as she was out of the safety of her room, an intense and painful draining sensation took over, one that seemed to pull at her bones.

She looked around to see multiple devils, who were currently fighting the incubi, with the exception of one. Aron saw Erik on the bottom step of the staircase, groaning in pain as he held his abdomen. She immediately ran down despite the pain in her body, kneeling by him.

“Matthew, get her in her room!” James called out to the younger incubus.

Aron ignored Matthew as he walked over and started pulling at her arm. “Aron, it isn’t safe for you out here.”

She was more focused on Erik, who was losing a lot of blood and fast. The bullet was hell borne, draining him of energy faster than he could heal the injury. “Princess,” he said, breathlessly. “You need to go to your room and be safe, your energy-”

“Shut up, Erik. I’m going to heal you,” she told him firmly before placing her hands over his abdomen. Immediately she began to force her energy into his body. He was too out of it to stop her, and Aron could only hope she’d stay awake long enough to help. Between the drain from the spell and the energy she was giving him, that wasn’t likely.

“Aron, please-” Matthew started before she interrupted him.

“Matthew, I said no! Go help the others, I’ll be fine,” she told him. “Go.”

He frowned but when another gunshot went off, he ran back into the fight. She looked down at Erik, already feeling dizzy. His wounds weren’t even scabbing over yet, hell borne bullets always having been much more difficult to heal than a typical gun shot. Aron pushed away the thoughts of all of the patients she’d lost because of them; she wouldn’t let Erik die, even as every nerve in her trembling body cried out from the extreme draining.

She could see the others fighting, and Malix was surprisingly nowhere to be found. She felt her eyes grow heavy, her energy rapidly decreasing. She knew if she didn’t get out of there soon, she would pass out. But Erik was her priority at the moment.

Aron stood up and started helping him get on his feet. He groaned in pain but didn’t stop her, straining as he struggled to get up. He was trembling, and so was Aron. They were both out of energy, but he’d stopped bleeding at least.

“We gotta go to my room,” she told him, putting his arm around her shoulder as she helped him up to her room and attempted to block out the noise of the demon’s and devil’s fighting in the lobby. 

Erik grunted with pain as she helped him up the stairs, one of his hands held tightly over his stomach. Each step was a strain for the both of them, but Aron wouldn’t let herself succumb to the exhaustion.

She reached out, but her hand didn’t grab the doorknob. She realized how shallow her breathing had become, but she’d been ignoring it until now. She needed to ignore it. She needed to get him healed. She needed…

Aron sat in the woods with her cousin Mason, the smell of weed in the air. He had dark hair and brown eyes, and currently had a slight summer tan.

He was a few years older than her. He was one of her best friends, having been raised as siblings, even as she moved from family to family and didn’t always get to see him. There were multiple occasions where she’d lived with him, so he was a major part of most of her childhood memories.

She remembered the time she was staying the weekend with him. She couldn’t have been any older than five at the time. He had made her sit in his broken gaming chair and lifted it up with her in it. He tilted it forward, making her shriek. He’d laugh at her and gently dump her onto a pile of pillows.

Or the first time he actually let her play his Xbox with him instead of just watching. They played Mortal Kombat, which she lost miserably. But still, she had a happy grin that she was getting to do the same things as who she saw as a big brother.

She smiled softly at the memories. They were currently smoking a joint and discussing a relationship of his, one that had been off and on since he was fourteen. It was complicated and messy, but they were so in love that neither of them had the strength to end it.

“Do you believe in love?” Aron heard Mason ask. 

As she handed him the joint they were sharing, she shrugged. “Yeah, I think so. I don’t think things would be the way they were if love wasn’t involved,” she said. 

“Do you think the arguing and messiness between y’all is worth her love?” she asked him.

He hummed, taking a long puff before speaking. “I dunno. I always thought love should be peaceful and shit, but I keep getting hurt because of it.”

She listened closely. “Are you sure it’s love?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “There's nothing else it could be.”

She nodded. “I think that…even if you love someone, they could be awful for you or you could be awful for them. It’s not as simple as both of you loving each other.”

“If love is making your life miserable, maybe it isn’t worth it.”

Isn’t worth it.

Isn’t worth it.

Isn’t worth it.

Is it worth it?

[twilightmalachite]

Altered - Angels and Devils 9

Author: Akira

Characters: Eichi, Tsumugi, Rei

Translator: Mika Enstars

EN Proofer: PitXRoxas

"If you speak of monsters, they come to you. Poor boy, didn’t Papa and Mama teach you this~? ♪"

Season: Spring

Location: In Front of Yumenosaki Main Gate

⚠️ This is an import from a unproofed Twitter Livetweet!

The following morning, in front of Yumenosaki Academy’s front gates…

Eichi: (Smooth sailing so far…)

(…At least, I wish it was.)

(The plans for my eventual victory have been made. I have a full picture and roadmap. I’ve tilled the soil, and sowed the seeds for it.)

(But, there’s been no results so far.)

(All those I’ve recruited for fine to become my private army and to have a leading role for this revolutionary story, save for Tsumugi, are too rebellious—or too unmotivated.)

(The ultimate weapons against the Five Eccentrics, Hiyori-kun and Nagisa-kun, are just doing what they please as of now.)

(While everyone else, Tsumugi aside, aren’t even counted as a force to begin with... They’re just quantity over quality “numbers”, collected for the same of violence through numbers.)

(Student votes determine the outcome through the DreamFes system. Increasing the number of “allies” in that way is the best solution to that. They provide nothing more than that.)

(If they can’t provide any use, then my plan will fall apart.)

(It’s troublesome. Allies that don’t behave the way I want them to...are more troublesome than the enemy I’m supposed to eventually defeat, the evil Five Eccentrics.)

(I had no idea that the reality would play out so poorly…)

… *cough, cough*

(Ah, my lungs hurt.)

(I didn’t speak at all while at the hospital, but lately I’ve been overworking my throat and such. These are simply just growing pains from that.)

(Still, pain is still pain… I feel like my life’s going to end like in those romantic poems of old, coughing wretchedly.)

(No, I refuse to lose to a life of that kind.)

(As the heir to the Tenshouins, I was born so I could win.)

(Fufu, I can’t believe I’m using my family household as a source of support, when it’s only been a source of disgust for me—how contradictory.)

…Hm?

(What’s that? There’s commotion over by the entrance…)

Location: Yumenosaki Academy Grounds

Tsumugi: Hey~! That’s dangerous~! Stop fooling around!

Eichi: Tsumugi, what’s all the fuss here?

Tsumugi: Ah, Eichi-kun! Good morning~! ♪

I’m so glad to see you going to school today~! I’ve been worried about you! Your complexion hasn’t been looking well lately.

Eichi:Fufu, thank you for the concern, but there’s something more important—

Tsumugi: Oh, right! There’s big trouble!

Look over there. Do you see that person up on the roof?

Eichi: Umm… What is it? The sun’s too bright for me to see clearly.

Ah, ouch… Looking up too long makes my shoulders stiff and painful…

Tsumugi: Ah, I’ll take a picture to show you instead, then. Adjust the light, and zoom iiiiin~…♪

Alright, here you go. ♪

Eichi: How thoughtful. As always.

…Hmm, let’s see.

What is this? Are there a bunch of students gathered on the roof, too?

I see scenes like this on news shows sometimes, could there be something bad happening?

Tsumugi: I don’t think it’s something bad, at least… Everyone standing up on the rooftops all have cheerful expressions.

Eichi: So more like a festive fuss, if anything. And at the center of it all, surprising or not, is one of the Five Eccentrics, it seems?

Tsumugi: That’d be Sakuma Rei. He’s one year our senior.

Eichi: What a boisterous student council president we have, huh? …I’m sure Keito’s having a hard time because of it.

Tsumugi: Huh? Didn’t Rei-kun already quit being the student council president? He himself mentioned something like that last time I talked to him…

Eichi: I wonder. As of right now, he is leaving “that side” of things to the others.

I don’t think he’s so delusional or arrogant as to think he can do everything on his own.

No, that’s not right. The arrogance and self-righteousness characteristic to the Five Eccentrics is their greatest weakness.

Rei: Don’t go talkin’ bad about others so gleefully, little kid.

Eichi: (…!?)

(Huh? Was that Sakuma Rei just now? His voice sounded strangely close…)

(Even though he’s way up there—)

Rei: If you speak of monsters, they come to you. Poor boy, didn’t Papa and Mama teach you this~? ♪

Eichi: (…!? Sakuma Rei, what are you thinking? He’s jumping down over towards us—)

(A-At this rate, he’s going to slam into me!?)

Tsumugi: …!? Eichi-kun, watch out!

Eichi: Hyyaahhh!?

(N-No way, could he have seen right through me?—)

(And so now he’s here to defeat me at any cost, even going as far to kill me even if it means killing himself!? Meaning he acknowledges me as a formidable opponent who can’t be killed otherwise—)

Rei: Ahahahahahahaha! ☆

That “hyaah” you let out there, you’re so cute! Ah, I can’t help but laugh—I mean, sorry I surprised ya!

My bad~. I’ve been getting more and more bored these days, I can’t relax unless I pull off some crazy gag like that.

Eichi: …? …?

(Wha? Is Sakuma Rei floating? He’s jumping in mid-air! Is this witchcraft!?)

Tsumugi: Oh, this is…

Rei-ku~n? Why are you bungee jumping off the school?

Rei: What, it’s not like it’s banned or anything~? I am the school rules! Ahahahahahaha! ☆

← prev | story directory | next →

[wrestlingisfake]

Triplemania XXXI Tijuana preview

El Hijo del Vikingo vs. Kenny Omega - This is for Vikingo's AAA mega championship. Omega was the previous champion for over two years, and he was scheduled to defend against Vikingo in December 2021, but Omega was sidelined with injuries and Vikingo instead won the vacant title in a five-way match. Omega and Vikingo finally squared off in AEW on a March 2023 show; Omega won, but the title wasn't at stake. So now they're meeting again, and the gold is finally on the line.

It's taken so long for AAA to get this match that in the meantime Omega has had a falling out with his mentor Don Callis. Callis is now weaseling his way into every other feud Omega has going on these days, and a few days ago it was revealed that he's cornering Vikingo and giving him tips on how to beat Omega. This is probably meant to set up interference, and possibly a fuck finish so Vikingo can retain without Omega losing clean. That would be a disappointment, since the whole point of doing Omega vs. Vikingo is to focus on straight up flippy wrestling goodness, without all the bullshit.

My bet is that Vikingo will win and keep the title, and hopefully not permanently align with Callis. But I can't rule out the possibility that AAA will put the belt back on Omega for another two years. I also can't rule out that Vikingo could join the Don Callis Family--sooner or later somebody has to, and it might as well be him.

LA Park & Rush vs. Psycho Clown & Sam Adonis - This is the final match in the Guerra de Rivalidades tournament. Each team in the field consisted of wrestlers who hate each other, and in each round the losing team advances. So whichever team loses this match will qualify for the grand "prize," which is to face each other in a mask vs. hair match on August 12.

The big draw for this tournament is the possibility that we could get a huge Park vs. Rush match where either Park loses his mask or Rush shaves his impressive mane. It's something of a holy grail for Mexican matchmakers, because neither of these guys likes doing jobs and you have to pay damn good money for a big star to lose his mask or hair. Rush has already teased walking out on this match, which goes to show how tricky it'll be to pull this off.

Of course, the simplest thing to do here is have Rush and Park win so that you set up Psycho vs. Adonis. There's no way Psycho is losing his mask anytime soon, but nobody gives a fuck about Sam Adonis or his hair, so that match books itself. The interesting wrinkle, though, is that Park has hyped up this match by saying he'll try to lose on purpose to make Park vs. Rush happen. So it'll be challenging to book a Park-Rush victory that makes any sense, but knowing AAA they'll half-ass their way to it and call it good.

Penta El Zero Miedo vs. QT Marshall - This is billed as an ambulance match, which means the goal is to force your opponent into the back of an ambulance and shut the door. The mystique of an ambulance match is that the loser is in the ambulance because he requires medical attention after taking an unusually violent match. But in reality most ambulance matches come down to "I do a cheap shot that stuns you for only 15 seconds, which is long enough to shut the door."

They spent weeks setting up a mystery man taunting Penta and then revealed it to be Marshall, which suggests they wanted to bring in an AEW guy and that was the best they could do. QT's only claim to fame in AEW is heading up two different shitty heel factions, and literally any other member of either of those factions would be more impressive against Penta. This should be a cake walk for Penta except QT would naturally have tons of goons running in for him. I still think he'll win.

Negro Casas & Argenis & Chessman & Daga vs Nicho el Millionario & Damian 666 Rey Horus & Xtreme Tiger - This is billed as a Mexico City vs. TIjuana match, with Negro's team representing CDMX and Nicho's team representing Tijuana. According to TheCubsFan, where I get all my lucha information, this is all part of an ongoing singles feud between Nicho (52 years old) and Negro (63!). I can always count on Mexico to make me feel less bad about the US running grampa fights. The show is literally named after Tijuana so I'm thinking Team Tijuana wins.

Pagano & Bestia 666 & Mecha Wolf vs Vampiro & Aramis & Jack Evans - I could've sworn Vampiro was forced into retirement ages ago, but here he is. As far as I remember, this will be the first time I've seen him wrestle since WCW, but for all I know he was in a Copa Triplemania match a couple of years back that I clean forgot about. Anyway, I guess the story is Pagano was attacked months ago and recently returned accusing Vampiro of being responsible. Vamp doesn't like Pagano hanging around with Bestia and Mecha, the NWA world tag team champions. AEW fans may remember Jack Evans from working on Dark a few years ago. Aramis had a few matches in MLW but that's all I've got on him. I'm thinking Vamp's team wins.

Lady Shani & Sexy Star & Dalys vs Kamille & Natalia Markova & Viva Van - This seems to just be a random women's trios match. It's being billed as "Mexico vs. the best of the world." Kamille is the NWA women's world champion, but I wouldn't count on this match setting up a new challenger or anything. I guess her team will win.

Copa Triplemania - This is a gauntlet battle royale, so two participants start and each additional participant enters at timed intervals. Eliminations can occur at any time in the match, via pinfall, submission, or exiting the ring over the top rope to the floor. The last participant left in the match wins the Triplemania Cup. It's basically a clusterfuck to get all the undercard guys on the show.

Announced so far for the match are: Willie Mack, Mr. Iguana, Jack Cartwheel, La Hiedra, Flammer, Myzteziz, Puma King, Nino Hamburguesa, Dinamico, Gringo Loco, Laredo Kid, and Taurus. I expect surprise entrants, and I have no idea if there's any fixed limit to how many people can join the match. It feels like every time I watch one of these the finish comes down to the heel ref trying to pull shenanigans until a babyface ref saves they day. I don't think it matters who wins, but Mr. Iguana is my guy.

[teabiscs]

Ugh Someone give me a Kai Rei where:

:readmore:

Everyone knows they like each other. It’s so obvious. But they’re both oblivious idiots. Who think they’re so smooth and they have things under wraps and no one knows they have a thing for the other.

And the Bladebreakers, White Tigers and Borg are all SO tired of the stares with live in their eyes. And the blushing and hiding away. And the awkwardness between the two.

(And everyone would just have a different approach at getting them to admit their feeling and pursue their crush.

Borg, minus Sergei, are more direct at pushing Kai, while Sergei is gentler and logical.

Mao crusades the rest of the team at getting Rei to open up about wanting things. That’s it’s okay to want things. And have feelings and crushes. [and Rei being confused because mao we broke up?]

Bladebreakers are a mix of both. Max is the ship pioneer. Always pull the two together and making sure they’re stuck together, even if they’re awkward and nervous with each other. Hiromi playing interference with Takao because he can be dense about their feelings and is like /I don’t get it. They both like each other. Why can’t they just date?/

And they have one BIG group chat for it. With some dumb group name. And it’s all of them updating everyone on what’s going on.

/Rei was watching Kai the entire practice today, like he couldn’t even focus/

/Rei’s hair accidentally touched Kai today, and he looked like he was going through five stages of grief that the touch was so short/

/went to the store today and Kai just stared at this tiger plush for five minutes and then he bought it. It looks just like Drigger. Coincidence? I think not/

/since when does Rei wear purple… like a certain someone we know does?/

/ever since kai said he likes long hair, Rei’s been wearing his hair down/

And eventually they’re all at a lose because why are they both so stupid!!! So dense!!

But a moment appears before them! The majestics are hosting a party. And maybe. Everyone pushes alcohol on the two. Rei being a clingy drunk and Kai being an oversharing one. And anywho one thing leads to another and the kiss. And everyone cheers. And that someone how sobers the two up just a tad.

And then, an awkward next morning where they both apologize and avoid each other both thinking they fucked up their chance. And the three teams are like our plan backfired and now they’re worse!!!!

an intervention. Where the two are forced to sit down with everyone. And it could be either max/mao/yuriy being like you two both like each other. It’s mutual. Stop the pining and date already. We’re so tired of you two beating around the bush, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Queue the simultaneous “you like me?”

And then they lived happily ever after, the end.

[ladyknightskye]

It's truly amazing how many times people come back later and talk about how some executive decision fucked up an entire project because they had to change a pretty important bit of the story or were mandated to include something they didn't want to. Malicious compliance, straight up giving-up, people being uncomfortable with the material . . . there's a million ways an outsider's opinions can mess something up. Yes, writers can have specific blind-spots and prejudices that come out in the finished product, but often those things are not necessarily a detriment to the story overall. Like, I bitch about SPN's treatment of women, but when it comes down to the core story, it's still a pretty compelling one (at least for the first five seasons).

(My next example is long winded, so it's under a cut.)

Like, on the other hand, take the Rise of Skywalker. That is an objectively bad movie even without my personal quibbles. You can tell that even though Abrams was brought back on board to fix the "problems" of The Last Jedi, it has the fingerprints of corporate bullshittery. Abrams is kind of a meh director/writer, but I'd expect something more coherent from him than what he delivered in ROS. If I remember correctly, it was because he was forced to go back and redo the entire movie, but was brought on without being given any extra time to put his production together, including script re-writes which take time. He had to deal with a script that went through a truly stupid amount of writers, the fallout of the vocal minority of upset fans post TLJ, and Disney refusing to allow him an extra six months to try to make something of this movie. I remember the reports of the ADR people having to go record dubbing lines from Adam Driver in his closet weeks before the premiere. Disney had been hyping the movie for almost a year, and refused to move it from its original premiere date.

Do I think if he had extra time that I would like the movie? No, because I think they'd decided to can whatever trajectory they originally had and what I truly disliked would have stayed (reversing Rey Nobody, killing of Ben Solo, walking back FinnRose, etc) but I think Abrams could have at least made a *watchable* film if he'd had more time to make it all make sense. I could have dealt with the story ending in a way I didn't like, but the final insult of it all was the movie being a narrative hot mess riddled with gaping plot holes, horrendous continuity and lore errors, stilted acting, and oddly slapped together scenes. It's enraging because there were some really cool ideas (Palps being the final boss is kinda poetic since he set all of this off in the first place, the whole two places-one experience Force Bond thing, the idea of Hux turning on the First Order to spite Kylo Ren, etc.) but they got shaken up with a lot of meaningless fetch quests, random cameos and B plots, and obvious middle fingers to the proceeding movie. Hell, the Colin Trevorrow script was apparently a turd too ("He lost the Star War") but the dude had time to work on it, and Abrams and Co did not. Do I think Abrams had no part in the shit show? No, I think he made some decisions that are not great, and his script writing buddy whose name escapes me right now had several stinkers to his name already - muh dude helped write Superman v Batman y'all, he is officially king of 'interesting ideas pulled off in obscenely bad ways' - but again, I think the movie could have been made into something less like a game of fan fic Telephone and more like a Hollywood production.

Look at this point if something in a TV show feels off, my first, immediate response is, "who in the corporate office fucked them over?"

Wonky writing? Something feels rushed? Animation errors? First question should be, "Who was fucking over the production team? What were the censorship notes? Was this what the team actually wanted to do, or were they strong-armed?"

I think a lot of y'all are way too fast to blame the writers and animators for issues that wouldn't exist if the studio executives and the censors weren't fucking it up for everyone.

Pay the writers. Pay the actors. Pay the animators. And for god's sake, stop blaming them for industry-wide issues that the unions are actively trying to fight against.

[angrywrasslenerd]

World Open 2023 Week in Review - Week 4

A Block

Okay, first of all, let me get the apology out of the way, since you fucknuggets spent all week yelling at me about it on the socials. I got mixed up with all the goddamn math I had to do last week and incorrectly said that El Rey Dorado could end this tournament at 8 points, creating a four-way tie for the block. That was obviously wrong, as this week's events attest. Shit happens. Moving on.

Kazuo Saji has been wrestling for SWA since 2015, and in that time, there's a lot he's accomplished. He's won the Summer Tagfest with Connor Cipris, he's won the Escalation tournament, he's held the Aftermath Championship, he's been tag-team champion, and he became a founding member of the most popular faction in SWA. Sometimes, I see dumbasses online opine that Kazuo's done all there is to do in SWA and he should move on. But there are three things Kazuo Saji has never done in SWA: He's never held the SWA Openweight Championship, he's never won the World Open, and up until this week, he's never won a pinfall victory over Armel St. Martin in a singles match.

Saji's never been hotter than this, though, and his fortunes are starting to change. After nearly a decade of a rivalry in which Kazuo had wins in tag matches and multimans but could never quite get it done when it came to the big singles matches, Kazuo Saji beat Armel St. Martin this week. And while that match was nowhere near as long or as violent as his match against Carlos Ortega-Reyes last week, it was nonetheless absolutely spectacular. Next week, Kazuo heads to the finals against... well, we'll get to that in a bit.

Elsewhere down the card, Jake Adair finished out his World Open with a wet fart, having the lowest point total in the block, and having lost five matches in a row. Not that anyone probably expected Jake to take down El Rey Dorado, but he had probably the worst tournament anyone's had since unimportantguy walked out of the World Open with two points back in 2018. Carlos Ortega-Reyes and Raye Groves, meanwhile, finished strong at eight points, just one win behind Saji.

I spent a long time this week thinking about match of the week for this block, and I don't think anyone would blame me for giving it to the main event, but while Kazuo and Armel did put on a hell of a show, I think I actually have to give props to someone else. Paul Lambert and Raye Groves put on an absolute mat-wrestling clinic, going long in a match that had nothing but pride on the line. And given how Raye Groves has struggled over the last few years to finish strong in these tournaments, his eight point finish is a triumph in and of itself. That gets my match of the week.

A Block Point Totals FINAL:

Armel St. Martin: 8

El Rey Dorado: 6

Kazuo Saji: 10

Jake Adair: 4

Carlos Ortega-Reyes: 8

Paul Lambert: 6

Adam Nishimura: 6

Raye Groves: 8

The Nerd's Match of the Week: Raye Groves def. Paul Lambert by SUBMISSION in 21:37

B Block:

Since the beginning of the World Open this year, it was always clear that B Block was going to come down to Connor Cipris and Samael Tangaroa. Connor in particular looked incredibly strong throughout his return to the tournament, and it seemed like this would be the year that we'd finally see Connor vs. Kazuo III in the finals. But everyone's least favorite End Boss had other plans.

Samael has always been a force to be reckoned with in the World Open. People often assume the big galoot will gas out as the tournament draws on, tiring out from the exertion of moving his massive bulk around the ring so much for a month of straight singles matches. People are wrong. If anything, Samael tends to get more dangerous in the later stages of a tournament, and that's exactly what Connor Cipris fell victim to this week. Samael avoided overexerting himself, preferring to use DDTs, lariats, and chokeholds instead of showing off his power, and that gameplan paid off in spades. Connor tried his best to hobble the giant with his legwork, but that strategy is less effective if the giant you're attempting to hobble decides to just fall down on top of you. Big win for Samael, and a heartbreaking loss for Connor.

Down the card, Aaron Wolff and Kyle Sieras both were in cruise control, coasting to easy victories against Tommy Powers and Javier Valient respectively. Meanwhile, I became a Chad Jackson fan when he spiked Fabio motherFUCKING Silva on his stupid fucking head with the Action Express, putting Fabio out of action for what I hope is a good long while. Nothing really quite rose to the level of the main event though, and it easily gets my nod for match of the week.

B Block Point Totals FINAL:

Samael Tangaroa: 10

Chad Jackson: 6

Connor Cipris: 10

Fabio Silva: 6

Aaron Wolff: 6

Kyle Sieras: 8

Tommy Powers: 4

Javier Valiente: 6

The Nerd's Match of the Week: Samael Tangaroa def. Connors Cipris by PINFALL in 18:40

[gentrychild]

So, we have a few Anyone time travel fics. But this is what I'd kill for: while on a job Shouto is hit by a quirk. Next thing he knows he's back at his father's place, except things seem different. That's when he sees himself in the mirror, he time travelled. Now Shouto is stuck as a chubby-cheeked toddler who wants to keep his big brother around, stop his mom from having a mental breakdown and convince his dad to send him to a public school so that he can befriend his future platonic soulmate

Oh, this has the potential to be absolutely hilarious.

Shouto is very aware of what's waiting for him. His brother almost dying and running away. His mother's break down. Endeavor being Endeavor. He will have to wait ten years before being happy again and let's be honest, he isn't waiting that long.

Fortunately, he has read enough manhwa with time travel to know what to do. His first target is Touya, who still hates him at the time but who isn’t crispy yet. Shouto follows him around, proclaiming that he adores his brother. Touya hates it at first but Shouto is very adorable and slowly wins him over.

Natsuo and Fuyumi are very jealous that Touya is Shouto’s favorite. Shouto doesn’t care. Shouto can now play football with his siblings and have semi normal bonds with them.

One of the early storylines would be Endeavor suddenly having to deal with his small child flat out not caring about him anymore/actively disliking him. (Remember that this is pre training.) This feels extremely weird since their parents are everything to children and he slowly grows desperate because Shouto apparently hates him? Out of the blue? Rei, who has stopped watching her kids swith eagle eyes in fear of what her children could do to each other, is happy that they finally get along, points out that he isn’t passing enough time with the kids. Endeavor has a realization and tries to be a better dad. (The results are varied.)

Endeavor: “I have decided to take some vacations to spend more time with my lovely family!“

Touya: “Really? It’s the first time you-”

Shouto: “No one asked you.”

Endeavor: T_T

Baby Shouto keeps following Touya around with a fire extinguisher that is bigger than him. Just in case.

When Shouto is five, All Might disappears from the radar for a couple of months, right after an island was vaporized. Shouto realizes that the AFO and All Might fight happened and that Izuku is now dadless and about to become destitute. He informs his dad that he is moving elementary school. More precisely, that he is going to transfer to a very sub par elementary school that isn’t even in the same town he lives.

Endeavor: “How about no?”

Shouto: “I wasn’t asking.”

To summarize, Shouto might have run away from his perfectly good elementary school and reappeared in Izuku and Katsuki’s elementary school. The number 2 hero in person comes and retrieves his toddler.

Sadly, Izuku wasn’t here that day because he was so sad that his dad hadn’t even called for his birthday that he stayed home.

After several similar incidents, Endeavor and Rei force Shouto to tell him what is going on.

Baby Shouto, grabbing baby Izuku by the shoulder: “This is my best friend, Izuku. If I am not in the same school as him, I will cry.”

Izuku: “I don’t know this boy. His eyes scare me.”

Shouto: “I have unlimited budget for All Might merch that I am willing to share with my friends.”

Izuku: “...”

Izuku: “Ah yes, Shouto, my best friend. I add that I will also cry if he doesn’t get what he wants and yes, this is a flooding threat.”

Shouto becomes Izuku’s best friend/fierce protector, which makes things fun for Bakugou. Izuku is not bullied. (Shouto was called to the principal’s office several times but Bakugo < the son of the number 2. Izuku and Shouto probably transfers when they reach middle school. Inko still goes abroad to work and the Todorokis offer to take Izuku in but Izuku is fiercely independent, so they just keep an eye on him.

Years pass but no trace of Anyone appears.

Shouto realizes that Anyone was created because Izuku needed support and now that he has Shouto, it’s not needed anymore. At first, he doesn’t know how to feel about it. It feels like he deprived Izuku of a part of himself.

But in the end, if it means his best friend didn’t have to go through all that hardship, it’s worth it.

The very next day, Izuku appears with a broken arm and a toddler, admitting that he might have hidden from Shouto his slightly illegal organization and his plan to steal All Might’s quirk so he wouldn’t be implicated. But everything went to hell. Now, he needs help.

Shouto is delighted.

And will have his revenge on Izuku not making him part of the quirk heist operation.

[i-cant-stop-fandoming-help]

Gap

Part 3 to Guilt

Note; Yes, this is shorter than the last two, but in my defense, I’m tired and want to make at least a fourth part.

I like Tsurugi. he’s a well-written character. but he’s also a bastard, so I gotta write him as a big bastard. Also, these are written from a perspective of Rei.

-

Another day, another funeral, another fight. It’s what happened, in a world recovering from a great tragedy. It repeated, and repeated, and repeated, creating an almost rhythmic pattern of yawns, sobs, and gunshots.

But, so rarely was it someone Rei was close to. In fact, it had never once been someone Rei had loved romantically before- but now, it had happened, and, god, did it hurt.

When going back to work five days after the funeral- five days she had called in sick- everything was different. There was hatred among people who were once friends, with Keisuke and Ryutaro being the prime examples of it.

Everything had gotten worse- Rei and Tsurugi fought constantly- actually hitting each other sometimes. There would be times where Tsurugi would struggle out of his wheelchair just to smack Rei for blaming him for Teruya’s death.

There was a gap in the workplace- one Teruya had left behind when he passed on. Everyone had realized that by now. 

Keisuke tried filling it, he tried to stop them from hurting each other or throwing insults at each other, but he couldn’t quite figure out how to. 

Ryutaro tried filling it, thinking that because he and Kiyoka behaved similarly, whilst Keisuke and Satsuki did not, that he could make them feel like his sister was still there, still alive, and they would calm down before fighting.

Nobody else dared try. Midori was too sickly to do much, Minako was always gossipping about things and ignoring people who ‘got in her way’. Dr Ando would feel as though he was forcing them to forget Teruya, so he refused, even though he may have been capable.

So everyone watched as the two of them continued to fight, with Tsurugi’s temper becoming harder to control, and Rei’s grief more visible to all.

Rei knew they could all see it, see her depression, see her reverting to her old self- The self that picked on Tsurugi for a fight, called him psycho cop, egged him on until he was prepared to hurt her.

She couldn’t break out of it, she had no reason to, anymore. 

When Teruya first began to show affection towards her, it changed something in Rei, making her feel warm inside for the first time in years. 

She had been able to tell him of her past, to tell him of her fears of abandonment… And he understood. He promised he’d never leave her alone for too long, and she believed it. She let herself be weak around him, let him hold her in the times she was absolutely miserable.

Rei wanted to call him a liar so badly, to sit near his grave and sob and yell at him for lying to her. She wanted to hug his grave, and punch it at the same time, to pretend she was with Teruya himself. 

But everyone had been there- everyone from the foundation, and those who survived the second killing game. Even Maeda, who thought he had gone unnoticed, was there.

Teruya was the cement of the foundation, holding the place together- and it all went to shambles when he was taken away. He was the support of Rei and Tsurugi, holding the scale so it appeared like they were worth the same. When he died, Tsurugi’s worth shot up into the sky whilst Rei’s got buried.

But there were still some people who sided with Rei- a majority seemed to be on Tsurugi’s side, but… People like Dr Ando, Ryutaro, and Minako still sided with her. Keisuke was on Tsurugi’s side, and Midori… didn’t seem to have a side.

Rei wanted to stop this fight in the workplace so badly, she knew Teruya would be disappointed in her for letting it carry on… But she just couldn’t stop it, no matter how hard she tried.

[hermywolf]

emily84:

During his hour-and-a-half long conversation with journalist Ramon Rovira at the Palau de la Música and in front of a crowd of 1.800 customers of Banco Sabadell, Pep Guardiola discussed, among other things, the urge to escape far away and the wish to continue enjoying being part of such a unique club. The audience was captivated by the words of the blaugrana coach, who used the concept of Stendhal’s Syndrome (the illness which affects an individual who is exposed to particularly beautiful art, esp. in a small space) to explain how he feels about Barça’s performance in the past four years. He continued to praise this unique generation of players who recently seduced him all over again with a 0-1 victory in the Copa del Rey game against Hospitalet, thanks to Iniesta’s goal. “These guys are crazy about the game, they feel it in their gut. Last night in a small town like Hospitalet Xavi, Iniesta, Cesc and Villa were running like mad until the last second, pressuring the goalkeeper, and then two days later they’re playing at Wembley! I called them today and they told me their calf muscles are worn out. When a sportsman says he’s tired, they should tell him:‘look at these guys!’ They have everything: money, women, titles… and they’re still trying their hardest. I used five kids from the B team [last night] because I wanted them to see what it means to really compete. If you think about Xavi, he played five years without winning anything, the fans would whistle at him, they wanted to throw him out. This is a unique generation as far as their love for football goes. My greatest pleasure is that people say they love how we play, the same way they like to go to a movie or a play. They have won 12 out of 15 possible titles; with other players it would have been impossible.” The subject of his leaving Barça was touched upon during the conversation: “As a player there came a moment when I knew I had to just leave. As a manager, I hope it’ll be the same. It’s very tough, you suffer from the pressure and anxiety, you can never catch a breath, you have to deal with the things you do well as well as your failures, and then there’s Stendhal’s Syndrome: where else can I find a place like this, players like these? Happiness doesn’t come with titles, there are more important things. When I was 25 I already wanted to be a coach; now I can’t wait to go home at the end of the day. The best thing ever for me would be if they let me choose when to leave. I want the decision to be up to me”. But where would he go? “It would be impossible to manage a Spanish team right now, maybe in a few years… I like the Bundesliga because Germany is a great country, with great teams, and it would be nice to learn the language; France is an incredible place to live with my family; and in Arab countries people are wonderful…” [come to Italy tho, Pep. shhh just come] In difficult moments, Guardiola takes refuge in the close friendships he’s established with his collaborators, with some of them he goes back a long way. “Being coach means to be alone, I suffer a lot from every defeat and I want to be surrounded by my people, I live on their love and friendship, not on trophies. I need to be hugged, and to fight… That was my only condition for [Txiki] Begiristain: I wanted those guys with me.” Of course, the day he decides he wants to go to another club, he’ll take his family with him: “My kids are 10, 8 and 3 and I love them so much. I could not live without them. And their mother is worth an Empire.” [Sorry for leaving the original metaphor, it sounds forced in English but it’s beautiful ;_;] As a player, Guardiola learned to hide his personal life because people could use it against him to hurt him. “Public opinion is cruel,” he said. “I like very normal things: wine, books, my family…” Then he bared his soul to the audience: “You learn ten times more from defeat. Victory gives you ten minutes of peace, but it makes you numb. After a defeat, on the other hand, you can focus on the things that didn’t go well. I have many fears and many insecurities, I don’t like people who go around [waving their magic wand] to solve all problems. I want to feel good in my microcosmos.” [A poet too, then, not just a philosopher.] Does he regret pressuring the club to sell Eto’o, Bojan and Ibrahimovic? “I regret many things, every day. The concept of justice is a very complicated one. Those who don’t get to play feel like it’s a personal attack on them. The closer I get to a player the more I get burned, so I have to put distance between me and them. I want to be able to choose who I’m working with, that is my authority [prerogative].” Guardiola mentioned the human factor more than once during the conversation. “Those who don’t get to play as much must have a really big heart [must be incredibly selfless/generous] or there will be conflicts. If Xavi suddenly decided he wants to play in Messi’s position, he wouldn’t be happy there. To each their own place. Many players are really close friends within the team. During [my first year as coach] the rules were more strict; in the second year they learned to work things out among themselves, although from time to time I have to call someone at home…”. He also praised Keita as an example of humanity among his teammates. “I will take with me all the love, not the titles, that people like him have given me.” Pep then proceeded to answer some questions from the audience. Someone asked who’s the funniest guy ‘in the hut’. “I never go into the changing room. Villa is an incredible kid, as is Piqué.” And who’s the boss? “That’d be me” he answered and the audience burst out laughing [T/N “el menda” is something like “me, myself & I”, more or less], followed by vigorous clapping, the same as when he explained what it feels like to have 90,000 people booing you. “I dare you to try and stand up to 90,000 people who are whistling at you and yelling all sorts of tings at you. It’s not worth the money you earn. They’ve chanted at me ‘Burro, burro’ [literally: ass. Can be translated as dumb, stupid, etc.] That hurts, especially if you’re trying your best. You have to endure it and toughen up.” Does it bother him that they call him ‘philosopher’? “They use it as a derogatory term. Truth is, wish I were one!” In any case, he does not want to be accused of desplaying false modesty. “I don’t think I’m better than anyone else. In a world where where making choices is hard, I make them. If can’t, I just disconnect, open up a book [and start to read].” He doesn’t see himself as an example to follow. “Of course not!. Some books [lolololol ‘some books’? XDDDDD butthurt Ibraraptor ahoy] accuse me of doing things I’m not even aware I was doing. At home it’s like a small family drama” he joked. “Even at its worst, this club is larger than life” [or “I’m part of a club where everything is bigger, flaws included” lol it can mean either XD] I try not to betray the club’s principles [/values], its concept of the game as a team effort, and the legacy of my predecessors. It’s a unique generation.” The audience was also curious to know whether the famous “Mourinho es el puto amo” phrase he uttered at the press conference of the Champions League semifinals was prepared beforehand. “No, it was completely spontaneous”, answered Pep and once again laughter erupted everywhere. The coach admitted that he always follows his intuitions, but only after processing all the information available. “I just close my eyes and let myself go. For example, why did I sub a certain player in? Because during the talk [I think he means the talks he gives his players before the gamn?] he was paying more attention than the others. My gut feelings never fail me. Is this man a great communicator? “Actually, I see two people over there yawning.” He answered after he realized he’d already won the audience over. And when someone pointed out that their boss chose not to attend the event because ‘it’s easy to win titles with a budget of 400 million [Euros]’ he said “And what the heck are you doing here?”. Would he be able to win as many trophies with a budget of 4 millions? “Surely not. That’s why it’s normal that Madrid or Barcelona win the Liga” he added. Lastly, Guardiola revealed that as a student he had very good grades, but he never thought about following a different career path. Not even now. “I’d still be doing something [related to football]”, was his last comment before he stood up and left, followed by a standing ovation. Source article (in Spanish) - El País: http://www.elpais.com/articulo/deportes/Guardiola/sindrome/Stendhal/elpepudep/20111110elpepudep_13/Tes Note: If in some places the sentence continuum seems awkward  and fragmented/disconnected, it’s because it’s like that in the original Spanish, too. XD

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Pep Guardiola and Stendhal's Syndrome (translated article)

[inkykeiji]

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

characters: dabi | todoroki touya

genre: smut + angst

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

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

words: 11k

synopsis:

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

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

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

“You have me, baby,”

“All of you,”

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

      ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰         

In early February, your parents finally tie the knot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You suppose he has a point.

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

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

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

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

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

       ✰          ✰          ✰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       ✰          ✰          ✰

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

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

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

It’s a mirror.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t fucking start.

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

       ✰          ✰          ✰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Touya returns then, saving you from having to respond.

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

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

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

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

He shouldn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does that include Natsuo?”

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

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

Yes, niichan, of course, niichan.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, niichan, of course you do.

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

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

And then doesn’t fucking move.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He needs more.

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

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

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

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

“M-My panties, niichan,”

Oh.

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

“What about them?”

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

“Oh, and why not?”

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

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

       ✰          ✰          ✰

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, let’s get this over with,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have no idea,”  

       ✰          ✰          ✰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       ✰          ✰          ✰

A party.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it doesn’t happen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Honestly, is that even a question you want answered?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s what this is about?”

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

“Because you’re being silly, princess,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve got you, niichan’s got you,”

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

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

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

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

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

“You have me, baby,”

“All of you,”

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

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

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

       ✰          ✰          ✰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want to be his good little baby girl.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey. Let’s hang out.

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

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

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

Yeah, definitely. Pick a day.

“Good.”