#i hear a lot of pathetic sobbing and choking sounds in the distance | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

father-time-and-baby-new-year · 3 years ago

Note

happy 200! i’m so glad to see your blog grow, it’s one of my favorites and i adore all your writing. i’ve never cried so much and i love the kind of unsettling feeling you write in your fics, it’s perfect in the category of yandere and dark content. in particular, i loved your drabble about shigaraki mourning over a dead reader and i’ve reread that one too many times to count haha! as for asks for headcannons and drabbles, it would be amazing to see that with bully!eren especially since he was such an awful person to the reader. i’d love to see him suffer honestly, but if you don’t want to write it, that’s completely fine! once again, i’m so proud of you for hitting 200! that’s such a huge milestone and hopefully, there will be many more in the future! :)

SYNOPSIS: bully!Eren has to navigate the world without you.

Pairing: Bully!Eren x Fem!Reader

A/N: I can't even explain in words how much I CHEESED at this message like my grin was ear to ear. can't explain how many times I read this. It singlehandedly made my day anon, and to repay you for my happiness....here is some angst. this is a slightly different route than the shiggy one but I hope it still suits you <3

TW: mentions of death, past dubcon/noncon, mentions of trauma, bullying, alcohol addiction, drunk driving, abusive behavior, revenge porn, nonconsensual photography/videography, mentions of infidelity, angst, so much of angst, violent behavior

WC: 2.5k

It's not like Eren had been doing a lot of soul-searching. He's not delusional enough to label his half-assed epiphany of "maybe I'm a shitty person" as soul searching.

It's just the conversation with his very sick mother burned holes through the back of his mind. Carla had asked about you and why you don't come by the house anymore. How she missed baking with you in the kitchen, and how you sweetly smiled whenever you would see soft creamy peaks form in the meringue.

Eren felt like he was swallowing needles as he assured his mother with false truths, that nothing was going on and distance between childhood friends is natural, and if it means so much--ok ok he'll bring you over.

He stays until he sees her chest slowly rising and falling into a gentle asleep. He touches the tip of his ears, unsurprised by how hot it was.

Eren, when you tell a lie, the tips of your ears turn red.

You're not at school the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.

Guilt is not an emotion he feels often but the events of the past weekend replay in his mind. It was just a dumb party that Floch threw, and he was surprised to find you cornered by a trio of thee dunderheads. Like a distorted fairytale, he swept you away from the bad guys like a knight in shining armor, to only shove you in an empty room and demand compensation for playing hero.

Fuck, with that big mouth, you would think that you'd know how to suck cock.

Use your tongue stupid slut. If you use teeth, I'll shove this dick in your ass without any prep.

No, I don't care, you're taking all of it.

There's a video on his camera roll. How could he not record it? You're sobbing, mascara running down your cheeks, looking so beautiful and ruined with jizz smeared at the corner of your mouth. He was brutally fucking your mouth, making you take all of his length.

Breathe through your nose dumb whore. Or else you're gonna run out of air.

You were pleading with whatever garbled sounds you were constricted into producing.

Breathe through your fucking nose. This is for your sake. Otherwise, I don't mind face fucking your lifeless body. You'd be more useful that way anyways.

Eren is conflicted with muting the video because he can't stand to hear himself like that. But he didn't want to miss out on your pitiful whines.

He remembers the distraught expression on your face when he was finally done with you. He tucked himself inside, and sneered, "I've got a girl coming here. Get lost." You looked so fucking distraught. Why? All he did was make you suck his dick. He didn't even fuck you.

He should have. Eren thinks grimly when he stares at your empty desk on the first day you didn't show up to school. He's gotten off to the video more than enough times than he can count over the weekend, and he was aching to see your pretty face twisted into a terrorized expression when he flipped up your skirt to grope your ass.

Kindly, Eren decides he'd allow you to have a rest day. But the second day, Eren pays a visit to your house finding it dark and locked, like no one was home and hadn't been there for a while.

On the third day, you're declared missing.

Your incompetent workaholic mother who finally came home and decided to give a damn reported you missing to the authorities who had scratched their heads because as far as they knew, the pivotal 72 hours were up.

Paradis was surrounded by forests. No one wanted to say it, but they were all thinking it. If you got lost in there, chances are you wouldn't make it out.

Eren wasn't always this admired and fawned over. He had his fair share of behavioral issues that frightened people (not you though, not then at least, not when you were children, and you still came back every day to play).

But when he channeled that anger into sports, there was somewhat of a star in the making, especially for some small-town boy. He was becoming extremely popular, and that's nice and all, but at the end of the day, he has a mother whose health was taking a sharp decline. He was constantly under stress, stress that he took out on you.

Where did his favorite stress-ball go?

It's all fucking surreal. Having detectives in the school. Not that there were many students to question (because christ, did you even have any friends after Eren turned everyone against you?).

Eren was questioned. He can't help but mirthfully chuckle. Maybe this was your grand plan, maybe you were able to finally sort out a mountain of evidence against him. If you were going to fuck him over, didn't you want to see it happen with your own two eyes?

The dark-haired boy wishes that was true. If you had gotten your revenge, would you be here? No, revenge isn't the right word. If you got any justice for what he made you suffer, would you come back?

Hi, I'm Detective Hange. I would like to ask you some questions today. You're Eren Yeager, right?

Yes, that's me.

How do you know ___?

We were childhood friends. We're uh, we're not as close anymore.

When was the last time you saw her?

Friday night at Floch's party-

-Floch Forster right? There were a number of kids there from your school.

Yeah. It was a big party. She uh, doesn't usually come to parties but she was there that night.

You were the last person to be seen with her. Other kids have said that they saw you and her entering a room together, and then only her leaving the said room.

[Sigh] Yeah we sorta...hooked up.

I thought you said you guys weren't close anymore.

You can be not close to someone and still hook up with them.

But you guys were close once right?

Yeah. Once.

The dark-haired boy asks if he was under any suspicion. The detective waves their hand in a dismissive gesture, “If her diary tells us anything, it’s only that she really liked you.”

Were detectives even allowed to divulge that sort of information? Eren doesn’t know but the stray detail that they offered off-handedly made him feel like he was swallowing needles.

At that point, Eren honestly still doesn't believe you're gone. You had a habit of running away, even when you were little kids, but you always came back.

Still, he participates in the search parties with a renewed vigor, even going alone in the forest with a flashlight on most nights.

And he's just so fucking tired. The darkest crevice of his mind almost wishes you were dead because this ignorance was just agony. Almost. Because he still clings to the feeling that one day, he’ll stroll into class and find you in your seat in the back of the class, looking out the window like some cliche shojo manga protagonist.

There are folders and folders on his phone. Albums. The most recent one is dedicated to your crying face as you were choking on his dick. Earlier albums are composed of creepshots of your panties, of that obscene o-face, of your skirt flipped up and your ass cheeks, pictures of your cleavage, videos of you thrashing as he dunked your head into toilets like a villainous middle school bully.

Pictures of your neck covered in hickeys, your naked breasts, ass cheeks striped with red after getting spanked, your leaking cunt, just endless and endless media dedicated to pieces and pieces of your body like you were never a whole person.

The earliest ones though tell a different tale, from off-guards to your drooling face as you napped in the middle of the day.

He has a favorite picture. Your eyes are watery from the cold, snowflakes stuck between lashes, nose and cheeks flushed red, and you're smiling. Smiling right to the camera. Right at him.

"Eren, are you taking a picture?" You asked, bouncing in place, giddy that it was finally snowing.

"Not of you, shut up. Get out of the way." His voice is gruff but not harsh.

You laughed and jumped into frame anyway, and the bright streetlamp behind you made you seem like you were wearing a halo.

He wishes he had more pictures of you being...yourself. Because now your crying face displayed over countless pixels haunt him. But like a fucking degenerate, he still jerks off to all the nudes he coerced from you. Sometimes he cries when he's jerking off which is probably the most pathetic thing he's ever done. This is what you've reduced him to.

He hates the sound of his own voice.

Breathe through your fucking nose. This is for your sake. Otherwise, I don't mind face fucking your lifeless body. You'd be more useful that way anyways.

Eren goes through the motions of life without really feeling like he's in the moment. Seasons change and time flies. His mother dies, and his withdrawn father dies a year later. He proposes to Mikasa because it's something he was always supposed to do. She loves him unconditionally, so even when he doesn't put any effort into the relationship but proposes, she says yes hoping he'll change and be a good husband.

He doesn't go to his parents' funerals because they're already dead. What's the point. He doesn't visit the candlelight vigils in your honor either. After tearing his ACL again and a somewhat traumatic injury, he kisses his pro-football career goodbye. To be totally honest, he's relieved. Because he had gotten quite bored, and maybe he was looking for excuses to quit the entire time. It's not like you'd be cheering on the bleachers anyways.

Mikasa has an affair, more out of a desire to see her fiancé feel something for her as opposed to any burning lust. But when she asks him if he's ever cared at all, with tears springing out of her eyes, he's just calmly drinking his fifth of whisky.

The dark-haired man doesn't even look up, "Let's break up."

"Is this about her, huh? Fucking get over it already Eren. She's GONE. And you have some big fucking audacity moping about her death like you weren't making her cry in the bathroom stalls every fucking day you piece of shit."

"Get out."

"You know what, I bet she killed herse-"

SMASH

The dark-haired woman doesn't finish her rant because the whiskey bottle smashes on the wall next to her head, sending glass everywhere and staining the carpet amber. She's unharmed, knowing it wasn't Eren's intention to hit her but Jesus Christ, what a monster.

She packs her bags and leaves the town like she should have a long time ago. All her friends had left years before and she stayed behind because that's where Eren was. She thanks her lucky stars that they didn't marry.

It's funny because he had always imagined himself being the first to move out of their small town, but he's the one staying. He can't leave this place. feels too tethered to ever leave. Every diner and liquor store is saturated with memories of you. He remembers buying cigarettes and exhaling the smoke to your face to piss you off in empty parking lots.

Maybe he stays in case you'll come back.

Eren's days consist of alcohol-fueled hazes. He doesn't know how his liver is still functioning. He doesn't know he's still alive after crashing his car into a tree when he was drunk out of his mind. He was on his way to get some more vodka.

He barely recognizes himself in the mirror anymore, not that he looks at himself much. His hair is long, nestled around his shoulder because he couldn't be bothered to cut it, dark circles under viridian eyes, and a perpetual stubble on his jaw.

His parents had left quite a sizable inheritance so there's no need to work but he's good with his hands. Likes crafting up birdhouses and cabinets, and occasionally does odd jobs around the neighborhood, never charging the elderly.

He's under the sink, tinkering with a wrench against the pipes when he hears the old lady coo at him.

"We're so lucky to have you Eren. I'm surprised a handsome young man like yourself doesn't have a special lady. The girls must be lining up at your door!"

The dark-haired man winces, and offers no comment, knowing that that the older lady was susceptible to long tangents.

"You know, we're getting a new neighbor." Eren grunts as a response. "They're young, I've heard. Isn't that exciting? Oh my, Eren! I think they're gonna be living in the house right next to yours..."

He tunes out the rest of the conversation because doesn't really care. He just hopes his new neighbors are quiet.

It's Sunday noon when obnoxious noises of moving trucks and people wake him up from his deep slumber. Eren's annoyed to wake up despite the fact he's probably been sleeping over 15 hours. He oscillates between getting too much sleep and getting none, his sleeping habits completely dependent on his dreams.

His nightmares are too visceral, visions of your corpse asking him if he'd enjoyed hollowing your soul with his teeth.

His dreams are achingly sweet. You in your prom gown, shining so iridescently like diamonds were sewn into the silk. He's dancing with you, holding you close, and then after you guys go to your favorite diner and gorge on burgers and milkshakes.

There's a peal of distinctly feminine laughter that stirs up Eren's senses. He's so pathetic, was the mere sound of a woman laughing getting him excited?

He sighs. He thinks of the whore he's frequently visited because of her resemblance to you. Hair color, skin color, face shape--with enough alcohol, he could really convince the person beneath him, was you. Maybe it's time to give her a call, but she's gotten so fucking needy and he hated how her voice didn't match yours.

The green-eyed man peers from the lace curtains, irritated by the brats playing on his lawn. A full family next door? Great, just what he needs.

The friendly knock on his door breaks him out of his daze. He contemplates whether he should answer but on the second more muted knock, he lets his feet guide him.

He turns the knob.

And Eren Yeager completely shatters.

Because it's you isn't it? You're the person standing in front of him? He can hear what you're saying but he doesn't really register it, soaking in the cadence of a voice he had long forgotten because all he had were pleading whimpers and frenzied moans stored on his cell.

He's shaking. Is he dreaming? He's dreaming, right? He knows it's you. You're older, far more beautiful than he's ever seen you. You have a different hairstyle, wearing clothes he would have mocked you for, and there's this joyfulness within you that makes you glow.

There's a mess of emotions electrifying in the pits of his stomach from euphoria, anger, and dread. He could feel his skin growing clammy like he was about to vomit at any second.

"Hey, are you all right?"

Doe eyes full of concern peer up at him. He voices out the syllables of your name like a desperate prayer.

You tilt your head to the side, "How do you know my name?"

#eren yeager x reader #bully eren yeager #toxic eren #eren yeager x you #yandere eren x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren x fem!reader #eren yeager x reader fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #dubcon tw #tw noncon #tw abuse #tw drinking #tw drunk driving #eren yeager fanfiction #dark content #dark fic #tw trauma #tw depr

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inkykeiji · 4 years ago

Text

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

characters: dabi | todoroki touya

genre: smut + angst

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

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

words: 11k

synopsis:

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

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

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

“You have me, baby,”

“All of you,”

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

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

In early February, your parents finally tie the knot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You suppose he has a point.

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

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

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

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

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

✰ ✰ ✰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✰ ✰ ✰

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

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

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

It’s a mirror.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t fucking start.

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

✰ ✰ ✰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Touya returns then, saving you from having to respond.

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

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

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

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

He shouldn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does that include Natsuo?”

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

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

Yes, niichan, of course, niichan.

✰ ✰ ✰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, niichan, of course you do.

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

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

And then doesn’t fucking move.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He needs more.

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

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

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

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

“M-My panties, niichan,”

Oh.

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

“What about them?”

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

“Oh, and why not?”

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

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

✰ ✰ ✰

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, let’s get this over with,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have no idea,”

✰ ✰ ✰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✰ ✰ ✰

A party.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it doesn’t happen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Honestly, is that even a question you want answered?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s what this is about?”

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

“Because you’re being silly, princess,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve got you, niichan’s got you,”

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

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

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

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

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

“You have me, baby,”

“All of you,”

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

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

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

✰ ✰ ✰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want to be his good little baby girl.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey. Let’s hang out.

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

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

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

Yeah, definitely. Pick a day.

“Good.”

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

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rinstars · 4 years ago

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clean up

pairing: college!sukusa kiyoomi x reader

genre: smut

word count: 1.6k+

tags: cunnilingus, penetration, size kink, a bit of degradation/dumbification(?), choking, probably more but i suck at tags.

note: not as long and didn't proofread as much cause i did this on a whim (again) but here's frustrated sakusa cause you didn't watch him practice like you usually do and he missed you. basically, university/college au cause i don't write them as high school students! always always 18+

"you didn't come to see me in practice." you looked up from the desk to see sakusa entering the sliding doors of your classroom. he quietly walks over to you, the mask strapped on his face unable to hide his obvious distate at your absence. he leans on the teacher's desk in front, calloused palms pressed flat on the wood to support him as he looks down on you.

"sorry, baby. lots of council stuff to finish." you look up to him pouting, but his glare on you is hard and unmoving – making you press your thighs together as your body heats up with arousal. with the slight bob of his head, he motions you to stand up and get closer to him as he removes the mask from his face.

the moment you sprung up to your feet, you wrap your arms around him, nestling your head on the crook of his neck. one of his hands traveled all the way down to the back of your thighs, guiding you to lift it so one of your knees are resting on the table while the other one remains standing between his legs. you rest a bit of your weight on him, attempting to sit down on his thigh so you're stradling it. you groan in annoyance as his firm grip pulls you back by the waist.

then all of a sudden, without warning, he licks a bold stripe on your ear before whispering, "shhh patience... missed my baby girl."

your breaths slowly get shallower by the second as he continues licking and biting your lobe, the hand on the back of your thigh slowly disappearing to find its way below your skirt. you whimper as the pads of his fingers press on your sopping clit, rubbing small circles through the thin underwear. "missed this little pussy."

your fingers grip the hairs on the back of his head, slowly grinding on his hand as he continues pressing open-mouthed kisses on your jaw. he hooks his fingers on the band of your underwear as he tries to tug it down with one hand. when he successfully manages to get it on the floor with your help, he pulls back to look you in the eye. he flips you around to switch your positions and hoists you up the table so you're sitting on it.

"spread your legs." he simply murmured, making you twitch in excitement as you slowly opened your legs, skirt bunched up to the sides. his eyes follow your every movement, pupils dilating in hunger as he stares at your glistening pussy.

"omi, touch me now, please." you pathetically beg, spreading your folds even further with the use of your two fingers so he can get a clearer look of the way you're repeatedly clenching into nothing.

he kneels in front of you, thumb collecting moisture as he runs it softly on your protruding clit. "already making a fucking mess. you're creaming so much, it's soaking the damn wood."

his face inches closer and closer to your cunt and you close your eyes, waiting for the warm contact of his tongue – but it never comes. not when he suddenly spits harshly on your pussy, making you yelp both in surprise and pleasure. you feel his spit slowly run down from your bud to your slit – almost at the table when sakusa's tongue suddenly connects with your folds to collect it instead, making you cry out.

the one time sakusa is willing to be messy is when he's lewding you. he doesn't care if you're dripping on the sheets, the floor, all over him. he loves seeing your cunny get swallowed by your wetness.

"my sweet little slut." he groans, sending a series of vibrations through your core as he laps and flicks your clit over and over – drinking whatever drips out of your hole.

"o-omi, ah, yes baby, j-just like that." you squirm against him, panting with your head thrown back. "your t-tongue, put it.. ah shit – put your tongue in, please."

he forces his tongue inside you, wriggling it a little to fit it into your hole as he uses his fingers to roughly rub your already sore clit, making you grip the edge of the table. he interchanges his fingers and tongue after a moment, sinking two fingers inside you and scissoring it as he sucks on your bud.

"gonna cum, omi." you sob, grabbing a fist of his hair and pressing his face harder to you as you slowly rock your hips.

he just hums into you, encouraging and giving you permission to let go. you soon feel your juices flow out along with the sighs escaping from your mouth. when you looked down at him, he's peering at you through his lashes, lips shining with your slick. his tongue glides past his lips as he stands up, pulling you closer to him.

"that's enough prep time, right baby?" he coos at you as he removes the knot on his training pants, sliding it down his thighs. "you'll take me balls deep and let me fuck you dumb?"

you shook with both desire and fear. sakusa is long and thick, lined with prominent veins. the first time you both did it, you cried so much with barely the tip in. by the time he's halfway in, you're already panting from overstimulation. even now, no matter how many times you've done it already, even when your insides are already taking his shape, you can't help but shed tears when he fucks you. that's why he always takes time to prep you, get you wet and stretched enough.

"be gentle, omi." you plead him, reaching out to touch his face. he places his hand on top of yours, giving it a squeeze before pulling it away and eyeing you with mischief.

"you didn't come to see me in practice." he repeats, hand wrapped around his cock as he slowly pumps himself, spreading the pre-cum leaking from his tip. "bad girls get their little cunt punished and split apart."

tears blur your vision as he comes near you, aligning his cock on your opening. you gently grab his forearm and prepare yourself for the impact of his cock slamming into you. you waited as you felt sakusa pull back a little before burrying himself in you, making you scream out and tighten your grip around his arm.

his hands immediately found your mouth, covering it to prevent you from making any more sound. "fuck, quiet down, baby.. unless you want someone to see you? is that what you want, hmm? someone watching you cream around my fat cock while i split you apart?"

you bit his palm to prevent yourself from making a sound as tears continue flowing down your cheeks and into his fingers. you couldn't hold back the gasp when you looked down at your connected bodies to see that only half of his length managed to slip in. he roughly goes in and out a couple of times, accepting whatever you have to offer at the moment as he helps you adjust a little.

when you feel him start to pound the rest of his length into you, your eyes rolled back, touching his waist in an attempt to make me go slowly.

"omi, n-no more – ah ah you're gonna split me apart, you're gonna break me, p-please yoomi you're too big." your muffled voice resonates through the room.

he completely pulls away from you, leaving you empty without his cock inside you. he steadies your head to face him and look at him in the eyes as he slams all of himself to you, making your body shake both in pleasure and pain. you vision whitens when you feel his tip right at your cervix, touching the spongy area inside you.

"hm? then break for me, little one." he moves his hand from your mouth to your throat, squeezing gently while the other one wraps around your waist.

he pounds into you over and over, making you feel every single vein rub through your walls as you take his shape. his hold on your throat prevents you from making any sound – the wet squelching sounds of your cunt being ripped apart along with his grunts the only thing audible.

"you're gushing so fucking disgustingly around me – fuck, stop clenching me like that, i can't move." he grunts, not out of anything but pure pleasure. he loves it. he loves seeing you wrap him in your stickiness, sucking him dry as you tighten around him.

your toes curl as you feel orgasm flooding your body. you look at him with desperation, and he nods to you, understanding what you're trying to say. he lets go of your throat to pinch your nipples through the sheer white of your uniform, closing the distance between you as he sucks your neck.

with one last moan, you spasm around his cock while your own fingers circle your clit to ride your high. you feel his cock start twitching inside you and you hear him suck in a breath before he, too, spills his seed in your walls, filling you to the brim.

he stays unmoving in your cunt, watching you fail to accommodate all of the juices flowing in you as it falls to the floor. after you both catch your breath, he grabs your face gently, turning you to him so he can press a soft kiss on your lips before hugging you to him.

"did it hurt a lot? are you okay?" he strokes your hair, pressing comforting kisses on your temple. you soften with his touch, assuring him it's fine.

you both stay like that for a moment before he pulls his pants back up, walking away from you to one of the cabinets in the room. you laugh as you realize he's getting cleaning supplies to fix the mess you both caused. luckily, you both finished your duties in practice and council late so you don't have to worry much about getting caught (except probably a few more students who also has things to do).

"well help me clean up your damn mess." he lazily glares at you from across the room, making you reach over to your discarded underwear on the floor and slip it on before grabbing one of the mops from him.

note: thank u for 100 followers :D

#sakusa kiyoomi smut #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa smut #sakusa x reader #sakusa x you #haikyuu fic #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you

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kyovtani · 4 years ago

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𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 | 𝒌𝒖𝒓𝒐𝒐 𝒕𝒆𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒐𝒖

✗ pairing: kuroo tetsurou x female reader

✗ genre: smut, like just smut, lit nothing but smut; absolute filth but still classy so it's fílth anyway; established relationship!AU

✗ word count: 4.1k+

✗ warnings: swearing, heavy dumbification and degradation, mean/hard (to soft) dom!kuroo, DD/LG (d*ddy dom / little girl), mentions of jealousy and slight possessive behavior, orgasm denial, p*ssy slapping, some spanking, praising, ch*king, impregnation, some c*m play, car s*x, (a little bit of) cute aftercare

– A/N: Happiest Birthday to my fave scorpio boy in HQ!! This is an old fic of mine which I wrote about a year ago and as I thought about it, Kuroo does fit the concept really well and since I’m a little busy writing smth new, I thought why not reuse this big boy! I hope you guys enjoy this one and please feel free to leave feedback of any kind if you did!!

x all the love, zade.

✗ summary: your boyfriend is sweet, caring and oh so soft, so you decide it’s time to make him lose his composure...

It takes a lot to make Kuroo switch from his soft, caring demeanor to his hard dom persona because after everything, he remains a patient man.

He puts your pleasure above anything else; your body a temple for him to worship and take care of with every part of his being.

However, sometimes, no matter how much you love your sweet, loving boyfriend, you find yourself growing a little bored of his constant softness; your desires going further than just being choked and called kitten.

You want Kuroo to absolutely destroy you, to put it as simple as possible. The guttural desire to have him use you for his own pleasure, claim you in the most intimate ways possible and every now and then your body craves this certain type of pleasure; the one which lays pretty close to pure pain.

Led by your body’s deep desire, you find yourself seeking methods which might not be the morally right ones but at this point you struggle to care the slightest bit about morality.

You set Kuroo losing his composure as your goal, trying your very best without even overthinking the possible consequences and if that means that you have to let a random man flirt the living hell out of you right in front of your boyfriend (who happens to have slight possessive tendencies) during your weekly grocery shopping, then so be it.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Kuroo watches the blood boiling scene in front of him with his brows furrowed in pure anger; annoyance flooding his usually so soft and calm features and the more time passes, the angrier he gets.

However, Kuroo’s not a dom for nothing.

He keeps his cool, even lets you take the guy's number as he causally ignores the way that stupid fucker lookes at your ass like a fucking pervert, before the two of you eventually finish the shopping without Kuroo commenting on any of it.

At this point you’re just frustrated. Anger and irritation rush through your body at such a fast pace, you feel your head spinning the closer you get to the car and if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re currently in a public parking lot, you would have thrown a fit already.

Tired of Kuroo’s oblivion, you finally get yourself to gather every bit of composure you have left and turn around to just tell him about what the fuck you want when he suddenly pushes you against the car door, pressing his strong body into your back.

"What the fuck was that little scene supposed to be, hm, doll?", he hisses into your ear, his hot breath fanning your neck and just as usual you love the way his deep and almost unrecognizably raspy voice sends jolts of arousal through your whole body right into your core.

In an instant, you feel your cunt clenching in despair, drenching the fabric of your panties just like that and even though you’re very much aware of your surroundings, you can’t bring yourself to actually give a fuck.

"Good fuck dolls answer when they are being talked to", Kuroo grunts and pulls the lobe of your ear between his teeth, easily eliciting a sweet moan from you before he suddenly wraps his strong fingers around your throat. The cold metal of his rings builds the perfect contrast to the hotness of your skin and with another soft whine, you press your thighs together.

And then, as you gently throw your head back against his shoulder, Kuroo’s hand finds its way around your breast, quickly and incredibly harshly pinching your sensitive nipple between his fingertips to remind you of his – still unanswered – question.

"T-Tetsu, I just-", he doesn’t give you the opportunity to finish your sentence, casually tightening his grip around your throat and cutting off your air supply in one go.

"How the fuck dare you call me by my name right fucking now, you cockhrungy little slut?”, Kuroo’s voice is cold and distant; the anger and disappointment evident in every single one of his words and you can’t believe just how much your pussy starts spasming in response.

“You better address me correctly or last night was the last time you got to cum, did you fucking hear me?", he’s quick to add, the lack of oxygen in your body sending you even deeper into the beautiful haze of pleasure. You barely notice the way you start gasping gasping for air, your lids fluttering shut as you press your thighs even tighter together to get some kind of relief from the heavy pressure on your throbbing cunt.

"Y-Yes, Daddy", you whimper and push your forehead against the cold surface of the door, your body slowly but surely growing overwhelmed by the arousal heating you up.

And in the middle of it all, you’re still incredibly grateful for the lack of company due to the late time of the day because even though you enjoy this with every single pore in your body, you don’t want anyone else to see you like this.

Kuroo lets go of your throat, his hand wandering in between your legs and underneath the waistband of your shorts, just to suddenly cup your cunt. The feeling of his fingers pressing against the drenched fabric of your panties, his rough digits rubbing your needy clit makes you let out a loud, throaty moan.

"Fucking whore", Kuroo curses, his lips so close to your ear, you feel yourself literally melting into a puddle of despair underneath his tall figure, "I can't believe you let that bastard flirt with you right in front of my eyes", he continues and sucks the skin of your neck into his mouth, sucking harshly before he harshly pulls it in between his teeth.

You whine again, constant mewls of frustration leaving your lips as you try your best to move your hips against his big hand, yet fail miserably.

"I should have fucked you right then and there just to show him who this slutty cunt belongs to", Tetsu groans, rubbing his hard erection against your ass but refusing to to move his fingers on your clit. His words and the pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves has you moaning and without even trying to calm yourself down, you reach back to take a hold of Kuroo’s thick hair.

"You would have liked that, am I right, kitty cat? No, wait – you would have loved it. You're literally getting wetter and wetter just at the thought being fucked like a stupid whore", Kuroo scoffs, a hint of disbelief wavering in his voice and without missing a beat, you let out a sound of approval in response.

"I'm not even surprised", he hisses and suddenly, pulling his hand out of your shorts, "at the end of the day, you're nothing but a pathetic whore who thinks with her stupid cunt and nothing but her stupid cunt", and then he lets go of you.

His sudden absence leaves you tumbling against the door with a soft whimper and it's then that you notice the way your whole body is shivering from the overwhelming amount of arousal rushing through your system.

"D-Daddy, please", you whisper helplessly, using every single bit of your energy left to turn around and face him, "I need you", you add and can’t help the soft sob falling past your lips; two tears finding their way down your cheeks as you look into the beautiful face of your lover.

The strictness and distance in his features makes you gulp harshly, his usually so soft and calming eyes filled with nothing but hunger and anger and you let yourself devour this rare sight.

"Oh, look at that", Kuroo pushes his bottom lip into a fake pout with amusement sparkling in the pretty brown around his iris, "my little, cockcrazy whore thinks she has the right to even think about my cock after pulling a show like that”, he lets out a loud, empty chuckle, “how cute and oh, so pathetic, kitty.”

Kuroo takes your chin in between his fingers before he straightens his face and pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

"Backseat", is all he grunts, "I guess I’ve been a bit too good to you. I haven't fucked some manners into you in some time, have I, pretty kitty?”, you look at him with big, teary eyes and your lips parted before you bring yourself to nod in response to his question.

“Is that why you keep acting up like some needy, filthy little whore? Do you want Daddy to treat you like this, hm? Because you know how much I hate disobedient kittens who flirt with other men, yet choose to do it anyway. Right in front of me, too."

His words stir something deep inside of you, your pussy clenching even harder around nothing as a strong jolt of arousal finds its way right into the pit of your stomach.

You have never been more turned on by anyone or anything and at this point you’ve completely forgotten your surroundings; Kuroo and his huge cock the only thing on your mind as you pull open the door to the backseat of his car.

Kuroo watches you carefully, his eyes roaming the sight of your shaky thighs and the damp spot on the grey material of your shorts before he gets himself to tear his gaze away from you, lifting his head and checking the mostly empty parking lot to make sure nobody is watching the two of you.

He doesn’t like doing it in public; the thought of being caught or watched is definitely alluring and tempting but usually followed by the image of it actually happening and a jolt of slight disgust washing over him.

However this time Kuroo is absolutely ready to make an exception because after remaining patient with you for so long, he knows he won’t be able to keep it up for the entire drive back home.

After making sure nobody is around – his habit of parking all the way at the very end of the parking lot no matter what coming as an advantage – Kuroo also makes his way into the backseat, his gaze instantly finding your glossy eyes before he takes in the oddly satisfying sight of your tear stained cheeks and pouty lips.

You look so vulnerable, so helpless, so pathetic – the thought of completely destroying you in every way possible quickly clouding his mind and the longer he looks at you, the more he just wants to fuck you into oblivion.

But again, Kuroo isn’t a dom for nothing.

With hooded eyes, he silently motions you to turn around, the urge to press your face into the seat taking over every bit of his brain.

You don’t hesitate and obediently move onto your stomach, pulling yourself up onto your knees as your eyes nervously roam the inside of his car.

Your heart is hammering against your rib cage at an unhealthy pace, adrenaline and arousal thrumming inside your ears and clouding your mind in the best way possible.

Oh how you love the effect he has on you.

"Take off your shorts and then finger yourself", Kuroo hisses, casually pushing his sweats as well as boxers briefs down his muscular thigh, exposing his thick, rockhard cock to the cold yet tensed air in the car and letting out a soft hiss, "I want you to stretch that little cunt of yours", he adds and without even trying to hide it, you turn your head to watch the way Kuroo spits into his palm and then wraps his fingers around his cock.

You let out a loud, desperate moan at the sight of his huge length; the tip red and angry, already leaking so much precum, you feel your mouth watering at the memory of his taste coating your tongue. You gulp harshly the longer you watch him stroke his length like that, your pussy clenching in despair at the mere thought of how good he fills you up.

You hear the loud sound of skin meating skin before a harsh pain starting from your inner thigh rushes through you; a choked out whimper leaving your lips before you can literally feel your ears perking up at the sound of Kuroo’s voice.

"If I have to repeat myself one more fucking time, I swear to God, I won't let you cum for a whole month, kitty", Tetsurou growls, an almost inaudbile moan following his threat and after mumbling a soft apology, you're quick to get rid of your shorts and underwear just as you were told.

You bend your body down and spread your legs, only to feel waves of embarrassment and shame in combination with heavy, hot arousal overwhelming you.

Kuroo has the perfect view on your spasming cunt and you know he is basically devouring you with his eyes, your head spinning at the thought.

"Oh, kitty", he sighs and picks up the pace of his hand, focusing on his tip every now and then to slightly edge himself because even though he usually manages to hide it really well, this whole situation has him a lot more worked up than he had expected.

And now that he actually got to see how much his change in demeanor and choice of words have gotten to you, he is more than just struggling to keep his cool composure.

Kuroo can’t help but think of the way your slick arousal tastes and feels on his tongue, your sweet moans filling his ears as you part those pretty lips of yours in pleasure.

Kuroo watches the way you slide two of your fingers through your glistening folds, collecting your own juice before aiming for your sensitive, hardened little clit and as soon as you press the tips of your digits against the bundle of nerves, both of you let out a loud moan.

"Don't forget about that tight hole of yours, baby", Tetsurou grunts, throwing his head back as he curses himself for slipping out of his persona even if it wasn't for longer than a second.

You whimper at the sound of your favorite pet name falling past those pretty, swollen lips and choke on that exact whimper when you insert both of your fingers into the warm walls of your cunt.

"That's right, just like that, you little slut", Kuroo’s quick to comment, his other hand pushing the material of your (his) oversized shirt up to reveal the soft flesh of your ass before spanking you softly and then digging his fingers into your skin, "even though your fingers are nothing compared to my cock, we don't want you to to get hurt, right?", and again, he finds himself quickly regretting his choice of words and lack of authority.

But he can't help it. You’re his perfect, sweet faced little angel girl after all; there’s no way he can completely abandon his soft, caring side no matter how bratty you become. Not even thinking about giving you a chance to respond, he reaches out and plants another harsh spank on your slightly sore ass.

You muffle a loud whimper, burying your face in your arm as you try to keep your noises down in hopes of getting to hear the sinful moans of your Daddy; however, Kuroo is quick to notice your little plan.

"You're really trying it tonight, huh, you fucking cumslut? You better start moaning or I'm about to get really, really mad and believe me, you do not want that", Kuroo scolds you, his hand leaving your ass and wrapping around the one buried between your legs before he starts helping you thrust your fingers into your wet pussy.

Kuroo watches the way you clench around your digits with his lips parted in pleasure and arousal tingling at the bottom of his spine and if it wasn't for the punishment he has in mind, he would have fucked your pretty pussy.

Your loud moans, high pitched whimpers and desperate whines start filling the small space of his expensive car, making it even harder for him to stay collected and as he slowly observes the way your thighs slowly start shaking, he pulls your hand away from your drenched cunt with a deep grunt.

"Let's go over the rules really quick, kitty", Kuroo sighs and pulls you to stand on your knees, making sure you don't hit your head before he pushes you against the back of the passenger seat.

Your head is spinning at an inhumane space and you don’t even know if you can form proper sentences especially at the feeling of Kuroo’'s hot tip prodging at your entrance. However the slap against your sensitive pussy manages to pull you back to reality rather in an instant.

"Green means good, o-orange stands for okay, slightly uncomfortable and r-red is the signal for you to stop, Daddy", you whisper, burying your face in back of the passenger seat’s head part as Kuroo slowly starts pulling you down onto his lap, making you sick onto his big cock painfully slowly.

"Keep it going, you're not done yet, kitty. Come the fuck on, stop disappointing me like this", he groans and throws his head back, the sudden urge to feel your lips on his and your tongue in his mouth making his mind go absolutely empty.

His words ring in your head, your mind foggy and sight slightly blurry as he finally bottoms out and knocks the breath out of your lungs just like that.

You try to stay focused, knowing and very well aware of his order but the feeling of his pulsing cock inside of your tight pussy, tip right against the entrance of your womb has you going mad crazy.

"One tap, if I can't breathe, a pinch if it hurts and two if I want you to stop", you finally manage to mumble and the moan that leaves your lips when Kuroo slowly starts pulling out of you at those words – is almost animalistic.

"I'd love to praise you but you did make me wait and you actually have the pleasure to feel my cock even after all that shit, so", Kuroo’s voice is slightly strained, your tight walls gripping his huge cock like a vice and no matter how many times he got to experience this feeling, he knows he’s never going to get used to it.

You start moaning shamelessly, not even able to close your mouth as Kuroo rams himself back into you and then finally picks up a steady rhythm. Your fingers dig into the fabric of the seat, face buried in the headrest as you let him use you like a doll.

You love the way Kuroo’s grunts grow louder, his thrusts more impatient and the grip in your hips painfully tight; you love the fact that he is enjoying this as much as you were.

But then, out of nowhere, you realize how quiet he has been ever since he has started fucking you.

Dirty talk is something Kuroo has alway been really into, the lewd words falling past his lips so easily and managing to rile you up every time, that you haven’t even noticed how much you miss it.

"D-Daddy", you moan and gulp harshly, your hand reaching behind you to wrap your fingers around his, "t-talk to me, please", you ask softly and spare a quick glance at your lover; his astonishing beauty sending jolts of warmth through your chest.

Kuroo tsks, a loud scoff leaving his lips before he rolls his eyes and keeps thrusting into you. He is absolutely obsessed with the way your cunt spasmed around his cock, the sight of his huge length disappearing inside of your tight hole edging him more and more.

"P-Please, Daddy", tears flood your eyes rather quickly, the pleasure making you incredibly emotional and the tight feeling in your chest looking for relief as you softly sob into your arm, "I need you to talk to me, please; I'm sorry for acting like a whore", you cry and throw your head back, a choked out sob-moan leaving your throat and even though Kuroo does enjoy the way you are literally falling apart on his cock, he hates seeing you cry like that.

"P-Please call me your pretty girl and t-tell me how much you – fuck – love my cunt, please", you beg shameslessly, the tears streaming down your cheeks and leaving hot trails behind and despite the guilt inside your chest, you slowly start coming closer to your relief; the taste of your upcoming high coating your tongue in the sweetest way possible.

"Ssh, baby", Kuroo finally lets go of his hard mask, his chest tightening with every one of your soft cries and even though he knew he'd break at some point, he still had hoped to keep it up a little longer than usual, "it's okay pretty girl, I got you. I'm here, kitten", he whispers and as his soft voice fills your ears, a loud sob leaves you, followed by a tiny moan when his fingers start drawing circles into your neglected clit.

"Come on, angel, I want you to cum", he places a soft kiss on the back of your hand before he starts thrusting into you even harder, "show me who this sweet cunt belongs to", your lover's oddly assuring words are the last straw and without another second passing by, you let go and feel the coil in your core snap; shoving you head first into your high.

Several waves of pleasure hit you, your orgasm literally ruining you to a point where you struggle to take proper breaths.

Kuroo helps you ride out your high by slowing down the movements of his hands and hips, his breath getting stuck in his throat as he tries to handle your constant clenching.

"Cum inside of me, Daddy", you whisper, exhaustion dripping from every single one of your words yet you still let out soft little whimpers to encourage your pretty faced boyfriend, "want you to fuck your baby into my belly", you add quickly and the way literal innocence is coating your voice is what throws Kuroo over the edge.

Your cunt continues to spasm around him, making sure he cums as hard as you did and then, after his whole body halts its movements, he cums inside of you; painting your warm walls in several shades of white.

Kuroo quickly pulls out of you, the loss of contact and sudden feeling of emptiness has you whimpering slowly but you instantly go silent when he pulls you into his arms, pushing your face into the sweaty crook of his neck before he slowly starts caressing your naked thighs and massages your scalp.

A couple of minutes pass by, the exhaustion overcoming the two of you and when Kuroo notices the way your lips grow heavier by the minute, he presses his lips against yours and pulls you into a passionate kiss. A lazy clash of teeth, your tongue slowly entering his mouth and of course he is quick to swallow your spit, making you whimper into his mouth.

"Please don't ever do that again, my love", he whispers against your parted lips, his thumb grazing your cheeks and then your neck, "if you want me to be hard on you, there's no need to flirt with other guys, you just have to tell me, okay? You know I will do anything to make you happy", he mumbles and you quickly reply with a soft hum of approval.

"I love you, Daddy", you sigh, burying your face in his chest as your lips stretch into a big smile when you hear him mumble, "I love you, too, pretty girl."

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #hq!! smut #haikyuu!! smut #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x reader #kuroo smut #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou smut #haikyuu scenarios #kyovtani

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murdertoothpick · 3 years ago

Note

Heyo! So I’ve read your Crosshair X reader stories ,Insecure and Truths and love both of those! While I was listening to the song Strange Love by Halsey I had an idea for crosshair. Something based around that song, but more specifically the line “They know you walk like you're a god, they can't believe I made you weak”. I hope you accept the idea! Best regards!

strange love

Summary: Loosely based off of Halsey's 'Strange Love'

Pairing: Crosshair x gn!Reader

Warnings: some brief and vague allusions to dirty stuff, angst, comfort ish

Word count: 1112

A/N: okaY HALSEY'S 'BADLANDS' RAIsed me so i listened to the album while writing this

'You know I love you, right?'

His voice permeates the quiet of your apartment, words low and softly spoken. It's a plea, his eyes say, but you can't bring yourself to look at him.

Your gaze remains fixated on the city lights through your windows, overlooking the busy streets below you. If you dared move your eyes, you could catch Crosshair's reflection in the glass, staring at you.

'Crosshair,' your voice quivers, betraying your emotional resolve, 'Please, just go.'

A few seconds pass before you hear him turn towards the door, and you listen to the padding of his boots. You want to tell him goodbye, but there's so much uncertainty around exercising your vulnerability around him, even if it is for the last time.

But just when you expect to hear the door open, you hear his footsteps stop, a silence befalling the room once again.

'No.'

You raise your head, looking up from the streets to the buildings across your window. 'No?' you question out loud, eyes still not meeting his. You don't even turn your head to look at him.

'No,' he breathes, sounding a lot less certain now with anxiety-ridden words. 'We're going to talk about this.'

And Maker, that was what you've always wanted from him, with him. So why is the demand enough to bring you to tears?

You shake your head, mentally cursing yourself for heeding his wish. Your words are infused with venom, but the faltering of your voice only tells the sniper of your distress. 'You never want to talk.'

He speaks with conviction now, it's more like him. 'I know,' he confirms, unsurprised by your response, 'I didn't want to fall in love either.'

And you crumble then, choking on a sob as your hand flies up to restrain the sound. Your eyes scrunch shut, tears beginning to roll down your face as your legs almost give out.

But he's there in an instant. Closing the distance and pressing himself against your back to wrap his arms around you.

You continue to cry, and he doesn't say anything. His head is in your hair, breathing quietly and inhaling your scent, unable to let go. The lights of your apartment eventually turn off as neither of you move, and you will yourself to speak up through sniffles and deep breaths.

'Cross...' your voice comes out hoarsely.

His arms tighten around you, signalling his attention towards you, accompanied by a hum.

'I-' and you realise you don't know what to say. You're on the precipice of resuming your sobs, crushed by the overwhelming uncertainty of your emotions and his presence, until,

'S'Okay,' he murmurs, 'We don't have to talk if you don't want to.'

A broken sob does escape you now, your body pathetically limp in his arms. 'M'tired' you manage, voice drowsy with exhaustion.

He presses a kiss to the back of your head, 'I'll take you to bed, okay?'

You nod, wordlessly, and his arms leave your waist so he can lower his body, picking you up bridal style.

The motion is detected by your sensors, and the light comes back on. Your eyes squint shut at the sudden harshness from the ceiling, and Crosshair quietly observes your tear-stained face before heading towards your bedroom.

His stride through your home is practised, it's second nature to him now. You're the closest thing to a home he has actually, not that he's ever told you that.

He pushes your bedroom door open with his back, careful not to disturb you. Your eyes flutter open as he gently lies you down, moments before he leaves your side to flick on your lamp, the warm light filling the corner of the room.

He sits at the edge of your bed, feet planted on the floor. He's deep in thought, pondering the conversation you'd probably share once you've gotten some sleep. His leg bops up and down, and you turn onto your side to watch him, recognising the action as something Tech does when he's anxious. The reminder of the Batch's brotherhood warms your heart, but then causes it to plummet.

'You should probably go,' you mumble, finally meeting his eyes when he turns his head towards you. A sad smile graces your features, 'Your brothers will wonder.'

Crosshair is about to agree, opening his mouth to respond. But he lets himself think for a moment longer, eyes scanning across your face. You're hurt, but he sees so much gentleness in your features, and you've given him everything. He can't bring himself to leave.

'Let them,' he returns in a whisper, like a confession. He manoeuvres his body so he can kneel on the floor beside your bed, taking one of your hands between clasped palms, 'Let me stay with you tonight.'

It's the most vulnerable you've ever seen him. The admission procured by months of sexual escapades, fleeting outlets for the feelings you both desperately harboured for each other. Embraces that would barely last the night as the sniper would retreat to his barracks to avoid questions from his brothers about what kept him out so late.

'Probably another fling at 79's', they had joked once, earning a glare from the sniper to no surprise.

And they don't know what had always drawn him away from the barracks, nothing about the consistent warmth of your smile and heat of your touch. He found it addicting. But most of all, they don't know who has him currently on his knees, eyes silently begging for that emotional resolution.

He was rough, mean, constantly pushing you to exhaustion at night, and yet, there would be feather-light touches over the bruises he'd leave on you, lingering kisses on your temple or the nape of your neck, and care to tuck you into bed before he'd have to leave. Never any 'goodnight's or 'sweet dreams,' no words he was too scared to speak.

When Crosshair sees you now, he knows you deserve so much better, he would give you the entire kriffing galaxy if he could, save for the horror of war, a reality he knew so well. But what he doesn't know is that you find him just as deserving.

All you can do now is give yourself to Crosshair, not your attention or your body, but your heart, even though you are completely wrapped around his fingertips. And he to yours.

He sighs in relief as you make room for him, settling into the bed next to you. It's a foreign feeling, being so close to you under the covers fully clothed. And yet, he feels so utterly touched by you.

Love is strange, he thinks to himself.

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#star wars fic #star wars x reader #clone wars fic #clone wars x reader #clone wars x you #bad batch fic #bad batch x reader #bad batch x you #crosshair tbb #crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #clone x reader #ct 9904 #crosshair #mtoothfics

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softcallofdutyimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Stay | Russell Adler x fem!bell!Reader

Summary: Despite having developed deep feelings for you after all this time working together, Adler takes you to antarctica like he was told. The only issue is... Things aren't as they seem when he finally confronts you.

Aka, sorry Treyarch, but this time the thotlers win.

SKSKSKS I ONLY MADE THAT POST TO TEST THE WATER, SO THANK YOU @smokeywhalee FOR ASKING FOR THE FIC. I ACTUALLY WROTE THIS WHOLE ASS THING LAST NIGHT SO COME GET THIS FLUFFY ASS BREAD Y'ALL AND ENJOY

Tags: fluff, angst, and angst with a happy ending

Warnings: some strong language and you might need a tissue box bc I sure did 😭😭

"Nothing like arctic air, eh?"

Russell Alder stands just a few feet away, hands resting squarely on his hips, looking out over the cliffs.

"Sure", you smile tiredly, a little sleepy from the long flight, as you walk up beside him. Without needing permission, you slip your pinky around his as he loosens his grip to allow you to do so.

Adler takes a glance down at your intertwined hands. He can't keep you in the dark for long. But still, he's afraid to tell you...

You move to lean your head on his shoulder, only to be left alone as he wrenches himself away.

"Listen Bell, there's... There's something I need to tell you", he refuses himself a glance at you. It would hurt him too much. You make an inquisitive noise and a long silence passes.

Perhaps it would be best just to get the hard part over. He was never one for beating around the bush anyway. "They sent me out here to kill you, Bell"

His voice is hardly audible, a clever trick to disguise the hurt in his voice. He grits his teeth, wondering if you really needed to know that, but then he remembers... He's done lying to you. You deserve to know.

Adler braces himself for the backlash, perhaps even a bullet in the back. Instead, he's met with a whisper.

"I know"

Your voice is only audible thanks to the bitter wind helping it along to his ear, leaving a ghostly caress as it passes him by. Russell turns around this time, almost disappointed to see your back still turned to him.

"How d-?"

You turn slowly, and even from there he can see the tear rolling down your face, "Why else would we be out here?", you gesture around to the great nothingness enveloping you both. You sniff and swipe a hand across you cheek, a joyless laugh escaping you, "Besides, you never take me anywhere nice"

In any other scenario, it would be playful and teasing, just like he knows you for.

Adler huffs a half hearted laugh at that, before tearing his gaze away. "Bell, I..."

"Oh, cut the shit Russell. Just do it, alright?", the tears flow freely down your glassy eyes now, "I know you have to... Really, I get it. A-and it's alright, you know? I-"

By now, Adler has made his way across to you. Even now, he hates to see you so upset. He gently grips your arms in his strong, steady hands, hoping against hope to give you some sense of ease. He needs to finish what he has to say.

"Bell..."

He then tries to say your name, but you won't allow it.

"Just shut up, alright? God, I hate you! I h-hate you..."

You struggle in his grip, beating weakly against his chest as your body becomes wracked pwith sobs, voice trailing off pathetically. Adler pulls you close, just in time, as you collapse into his arms.

"God, why? Why why...?"

You're choked up with hiccuping sobs again as Adler lowers you both to kneel in the grass. He squeezes you tighter, comfortingly he hopes, and if nothing else, to keep him from allowing tears of his own to fall too.

With a ragged gasp, you find your voice, allowing your anger and frustration to seap in at last, "After all I did for you people... This is how yo-?"

But you're cut off, and suddenly all your senses are overwhelmed with... Him.

Adlers lips crush into yours, the eagerness with which he kisses you is enough to erase all the fear, and pain, and sadness. At least, for the moment.

The crisp arctic air only accentuates the musky smell of his cologne, infusing every breath you breathe with its familiar scent. Charred birch and a hint of cigarettes. You almost smile at that.

He's been trying to quit, per your request, but... Old habits die hard.

The uneven stubble of his scarred chin tickles as he works over your lips, sucking gently, but adamantly once, then twice, before sustaining one long kiss again.

At last you part, lungs burning for air. Small puffs of condensation intermingle between your mouths as you catch your breath.

Adler takes one last gasp for air, to steady himself more then anything, before delivering one more kiss to your forehead. He knows he doesn't deserve to think such things, but...

You have no idea how long he's wanted to kiss you.

A few more tears start up from you again, but in that moment, he decides once and for all to commit to all the promises he's been wanting to make to you. He's done watching you suffer, and it's time you knew.

"I'm not going to kill you Bell...", he whispers against the warm skin of your forehead before pulling you to the crook of his neck.

You sniff, instantly frozen as you try to make sense of what you just heard. Too soon, faster then your mind can catch up, you search for words, "Wha-? Why? How? Russell, if they find out they'll kill yo-"

"Shhhh, they're not going to find out. I'm defecting. Right here, right now"

"B-but, why? I already told you, it's o-"

Adler moves his hands to cup your face, training your gaze to be all on him.

"No, it's not ok Bell. What we did to you... What I did to you... Was fucked, and unfair, but... it was for the greater good. But this? No."

"W-well ok... but-?"

"I'm doing this because I love you Bell", he barks it out, almost angrily, but even behind those old tinted aviators, you can see his expression soften almost immediately as he gently strokes your cheek with his thumb, "I love you... So much. Do you understand?"

He pauses for a moment, and his grand show of steely emotions breaks as he removes the sunglasses to wipe away his tears. And when he looks back at you... You're surprised at the reminder of how beautiful his eyes are.

"And... I'm... sorry I never told you before... Well, this"

Your mind is reeling at the rush of information. This... confession, isn't exactly news to you, but to hear him say it...

With one more sniff, Adler manages to pull himself together for a final moment of vulnerability, "Look, I know this is... a lot, but I was thinki- I...", he sighs and takes a deep breath. This is it.

"Would you... Come away with me? The CIA is going to be looking for both of us, and, well... No body and all, so I was thinking... We could find somewhere... off the grid, just you and me, start fresh? I know it'll be tough bu-"

"Yes!"

"-t I can protect you an- Wait... Yes?"

"Yes!", you seal the statement with a quick kiss. A promise. Then, you grow serious, "There's nothing left for me out here Russell... You're my only choice"

"...I'm sorry to hear that"

You cup a hand to his face, a tiny glimpse of that beautiful smile he loves so much peeking through, "No no, I didn't mean... This is a good thing. I meant to say, I wouldn't want to choose anyone else"

Adler sniffs and huffs a laugh, rocking gently as you pull in for an embrace, "Well in that case... I'm sorry to hear you have such terrible taste in men"

That earns a genuine laugh from you, and to him, it sounds like music.

You slip your hand into his, holding on just by the fingers before reaching up to plant a kiss over the scar on his jaw. You always rather liked those scars of his, no matter how much he wishes they never were.

But then again... He loves the way you use them to make him feel handsome, and he'll never understand how you do it.

After a few moments more, Adler gets up, pulling you to your feet as well. You wipe away the last of your tears, and as you glance up at him, a look of uncertainty crosses you.

He knows he has no right to ask you to trust him. Not after all the lies and the manipulation that got you and him to this point. But even after all that... The fact that you're willing to give him a chance humbles him to no end.

Adler looks back at you, and wishes for nothing more then the ability to make sure you never have to worry, or hurt, or live in fear ever again. But if there's one thing he does know, he'll be damned if he doesn't try.

"Come on kid", he rubs some warmth back into your arms, then kisses the top of your hair, "let's get out of here, huh? I've got just the place in mind..."

And just the place indeed.

A few months of preparation go by first, but at last you've managed to escape to the Swiss country side. Fields and fields of vibrant green grass and small wildflowers pass you by as Adler drives along, the great alps standing tall and strong just in the distance.

The sun glows warmly over head, and a little sparkle catches your eye. You look down and admire the ring on your hand once again, turning it this way and that, before stealing a glance at Russell's matching one.

With a couple more twists and turns, Adler asks you to close your eyes. A little while more, and the car comes to a stop. "Hey, don't open yet!", He hurries around to help you out, guiding you along want feels like a gravel path.

He puts his hands over yours, "Ready?"

You nod, the suspense absolutely eating you up. Finally, he moves your hands aside, revealing a small, brightly painted house before you. A stone path leads up to a white fenced porch complete with a swing for two.

The whole thing is practically overgrown with wysteria, coiling in and around the pillars and walls, and out front a wild garden stretches up towards the sun.

It's perfect.

You whip around, finding yourself unable to speak. But, he already knows. Adler sweeps you up off your feet and gives you a little spin as you shriek in surprise, melting into a fit of laughter as he sets you down.

He leans in and kisses you, just another of countless more to come, before pulling back. You have no idea how much it means to him to see you this happy....

"Welcome home"

#BITCH IM CRYING BYE 😭😭😭#black ops cold war #call of duty #russell adler #russell adler x bell #russell adler x reader

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kuroos-world · 4 years ago

Note

I know I already sent in a request but I just thought of one and hopefully I can share it!! This is a hanahaki au. So basically Reader like tsukishima and has hanahaki. Y/N decides to confess their feelings cause hey maybe there’s a chance to not die. However, Tsuki rejects her and reader gets the surgery instead. In the end, tsukishima realizes his feelings, but it’s too late since she already doesn’t feel anything for him anymore. I just want some painful angst at this point:,)

Tell me you love me - Tsukishima Kei

A/M: it took me a while but I really hope you like it !! Thanks for sending in this request, I thoroughly enjoyed writing this!

Masterlist

** Hanahaki - coughing up flower petals because you have unrequited feelings for someone **

You didn’t know how it started, first it was just a sore throat. But the more time you spent around the tall blonde the worse your throat hurt, you started coughing a lot. It began with just a petal or two, but now it felt like a whole rose bush had settled in your chest. It was painful but nothing could be more painful than loving such a cold person.

The two of you were kind of friends, though you were much closer with Yamaguchi, you had managed to forge a friendship with the two. You studied with them, you were always present at their volleyball games cheering them on obnoxiously loud. You’d even managed to score a spot in their weekly movie night, that’s where you were right now, sitting between Yamaguchi and Tsukishima watching Jurassic Park. Tsukishima didn’t know you had Hanahaki but Yamaguchi did, you could tell by the way he looked over at you solemnly when you held in your petal filled coughs, “stop moving so much,” Tsukishima scolds,

“ ‘m sorry,” you mumble, still holding in the petals, you try to get up to spit out all the petals. But before you can you cough harder than before and outfall all the petals you had been holding. Your cheeks flush deeply in embarrassment, “disgusting” Tsukishima says glaring down at you, you rush to pick up the petals and Yamaguchi crouches down to help you until Tsukishima stops him, “don’t touch that, let y/n do it. The petals are covered in saliva,” his tone is more cold than you’d ever heard it.

Needless to say you don’t get invited to movies nights after that, both boys start to distance themselves from you. Tsukishima treating you like you didn’t exist, but you were persistent after all they were the only friends you had, “Tsuki!” You call, running to catch up with him and Yamaguchi, “stop calling me that,” you frown slightly but at least he acknowledged you. “Yamaguchi calls you Tsuki though,” “well he’s my friend,” your frown deepens, “then what am I?” “Nothing but a pest,”

Tsukishima looked down at you with an icy glare, your breath hitches, not only from the beautifully cold boy in front of you but more from the thorn covered bush that grew inside of you. You run past the icy glare and past the guilt filled eyes that we’re watching you, running all the way to the nearest trash bin and cough up a twig full of thorns and petals. The petals were a creamy shade of pink, if not for the pain they caused you probably would’ve loved them.

“Tsuki you were too mean” Yamaguchi tuts but it’s only met with a soft glare and a “shut up”

You ended up eating lunch alone that day, and everyday for the next few weeks. And every day you pretended not to hear the snickers and taunting from the girls in your class.

“Poor y/n“ one girl mocked, “ so desperate for love,” the other girls giggled “no one wants them so they have to give themselves flowers” they all laughed when you coughed in pain. Akito, the prettiest girl in your grade, she is we relentless, “poor y/n, it’s beihijre in love with Tsuki, huh?” Her laughter grew when tears formed in your eyes.

—

After weeks of icy flares and merciless taunting you decide to just confess, if the petals don’t stop when you’d take your mothers offer for a surgery to rid you of the pain you felt. “Um Tsukishima?”

“What?” His tone was uncaring, he didn’t even need to present to sound uninterested,

“Before you go to practice today can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Why?”

“Just hear them out Tsuki” Yamaguchi whispers nudging him,

“Fine but you only get a minute,”

The rest of the day goes on and you grow more anxious by the minute, you knew the girls had gotten word of your conversation with the two boys that morning. You could feel them watching you all day, by the time school ended you were a flustered mess. You meet Tsukishima in front of the stairs, you bow once he’s in front of you,

“Tsukishima, I-I just wanted to say I like you and I have for a while now. I have Hanahaki which you probably know and it’s painful, all because I love you. And.. and I know you don’t feel the same, I’ve tried moving on but no one makes me feel the way you do. The things they say, I simply I don’t care, they’re not you and I get so bored. They can’t do what you do or be who you are, so why would I even dare? Don’t leave me please, without you I’d be doomed, stuck with all the rest..

Do you think you could give me a chance ?”

you stand once more, tears filled to the brims of your eyes, you’re heart bared out for him. Tsukishima just pushes up his glasses and glares at you, “pathetic, it’s not my fault you decided to fall in love with me you idiot” he scoffs before walking away, leaving you to down in your tears and choking out sobs and flower petals. The more your heart broke the more beautiful the petals became ‘how beautifully tragic’ you think trying to catch your breath. You hear someone laughing from behind you and there she is, Akito, with her beautifully long hair flowing behind her, phone in hand recording you as she walks closer,

“Poor y/n, why would you even think you had a shot? It’s obvious Kei has better taste than someone like you,” next thing you know you’re surrounded by girls, all of them mocking and laughing at your pained state.

That night you tell your mom of the horrible way they treated you and that you’re ready to proceed with the operation, so the next morning while all your classmates go to school, you go to the hospital. There they prepared you for the operation, they explain that not only will you lose feeling for Tsukishima Kei but there’s a high chance you’ll never fall in love again,

“Is it worth it?” A nurse asks you, “loving him does nothing but cause me pain, i could’ve endured the pain had he given me a chance,”

They begin the operation, and the same nurse says, “tell me everything you love about him,”

“Tsukishima Kei, he’s beautiful and intelligent..

He scrunches up his nose a lot, and the way he pushes up his glasses is adorable.. he’s an incredibly talented volleyball player, he’s a middle blocker…

** Meanwhile**

“Looks like y/n’s not here today,” Yamaguchi sighs feeling bad for you, “Tsuki I think you should apologize,” the blonde just shrugs, “Tsuki you were too cruel,”

“Apologize to that pathetic loser?” Someone says behind them “honestly I don’t think you were cruel enough Kei,”

“Don’t call me that,” Akito pouts, walking towards him and wraps her arms around him, “you can do so much better, baby,”

“Ew get off,” Tsukishima shakes her off,

“Akito, what do you mean he wasn’t cruel enough?” Yamaguchi asks, she rolls her eyes at him,

“I wasn’t talking to you but Kei I was meaning to tell you, I like you and after that pathetic attempt to make you love them, I put y/n in their place” she grins pulling out her phone. The two boys watch in horror while Akitk laughs, “it’s what they deserved,”

“You’re a sad excuse for a girl, girls are supposed to be beautiful but everything about your existence screams ugly and useless,”

** back at the hospital**

After you stopped talking the nurse presses again,

“What else do you love about him?”

The doctor removes the final branches from your chest

“Nothing”

You were able to go home the next day, and once you get there Tsukishima is waiting. Your mom goes inside giving you space to talk,

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know they were treating you that way,” you shrug uninterested in anything he has to say,

“I-I changed my mind, I want to give you a chance.. I want to give us a chance” you laugh

“It’s too late, I got the Hanahaki removed and with it went my feelings for you.” His eyes droop sadly but he has no one to blame but himself,

“Tell me you love me,” he demands,

“I love you,” you respond all too quickly, as if the words held no meaning.

“Say it again,” you giggle this time, giving him a sly look, “I love you” you say sweetly. He knows it’s not real but chooses to believe you away,

“One more time” you cling your body onto his,

“I love you.” Your tone went cold as did your eyes, betraying the words you said and the way you cling to him..

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu tsukki #tsukishima kei #hq tsukishima #tsukishima x you #tsukishima scenarios #tsukishima headcanons #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima smut #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x y/n #tsukki x y/n #tsukki headcanons #tsukki imagines #yamaguchi tadashi

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hannahdra-ws · 3 years ago

Text

and now (you’re hyper paranoid)

Summary:

hypochondria; n; abnormal anxiety about one's health, especially with an unwarranted fear that one has a serious disease.

(or: Janus has a very bad time.)

Romantic, established dukeceit

TWs: hypochondria, covid-19, panic attacks, unspecified eating disorder, coughing, crying

----------

Through the uneasy feeling, Janus knew he was being a little unrealistic.

He's perfectly healthy, he rarely gets sick. He hasn't even had the flu before. He's double vaccinated, and he wears his mask everywhere. He's certainly never gotten food poisoning before.

So he doesn't know why he's freaking out so much.

read on ao3

Janus stared at the plate in front of him, heart thumping so loudly he was almost sure the others at the table could hear it. It wasn't anything major, it was just meatloaf with a side of mashed potatoes and corn, and Patton and Logan (mostly Logan) spent a lot of time on it, so there's no reason he shouldn't eat it.

The others are enjoying it too, bantering and joking across the table without a care in the world. Roman was basically sitting in Logan's lap, and Four Idiots (as Janus and Remus dubbed them as) kept sending each other equally besotted expressions. Remus was next to him, gesturing animatedly while he talked with one hand and the other hand tightly gripped in Janus's own.

He felt off kilter and shaky, watching everyone eat their food. Janus knows he should be eating too, and logically he knows that there is a very small chance of him getting food poisoning. But that doesn't make the debilitating anxiety welling up inside him go away.

Oh God, he's going to get sick, somethings wrong with the meat he'll get sick and vo-

Ugh. Virgil's the one that has the anxiety problem, not him. Why did his brother have to give him his mental illness? Bitch.

Suddenly, a loud noise happened, forcefully dragging Janus out of his mind. It was Roman, coughing loudly. He kept hacking, and hacking, and Janus abruptly felt faint.

The others were watching with concern, and Logan was patting Roman on the back to get whatever had lodged in his throat out. Eventually, he did clear his airways, after a long breath in and a particularly violent cough.

Patton inquired if he was okay, and Roman nodded, face red and tears streaming down his face from coughing so much. "Sorry, I choked." His voice was scratchy from coughing. But he was smiling, and that should have been an indicator that he was okay, he just choked, he's fine-

Remus made some comment, and Virgil flipped him off while still looking worriedly in Roman's direction, but Janus suddenly couldn't hear through the ringing in his ears. Remus must have noticed either the way he abruptly went still, or the fact that he had barely eaten anything, because he squeezed his hand in question. Janus abruptly stood up from the table, almost knocking his chair down in the process.

Remus frowned, a small, confused thing, "Jaybird? You alright?"

"I'm sorry, if you'll excuse me," Janus managed to choke out, before quickly ripping his hand from Remus's and stumbling away, ignoring the protests and calls from the table behind him.

He hopes no one noticed that he didn't finish his meal.

----

Janus stumbled to his room, heart beating out of his chest, thump, thump, thump. He quickly locked the door and slid his back down to the floor, digging his gloved hands in his hair and pulling.

Roman's dry hacking wouldn't leave his head, oh God he sounded sick, but he's not he just choked he's fine, he doesn't have covid none of you do you're all vaccinated, fuck-

Janus was acutely aware that he was crying, now, his chest tight and his throat sore from the tears. He was trembling, small and terrified against the back of his door, and he couldn't stop thinking.

Janus had to go back to school in a week. School, with its crowded areas and unvaccinated people and possible removal of masks. The very thought of it makes his heart jump into his throat, dizzy with terror.

What if one of them had covid, and we just didn't have any symptoms, what if the vaccine doesn't work against the variant, fuck, he's going to get it, maybe he already has it, he's going to die he's going to die he can't breathe-

He suddenly had the image of his own funeral in his head, his boyfriend and his friends and his brother at his own funeral, crying softly and holding each other. He envisioned himself in the afterlife, waiting for them, watching Remus suffer alone because he wasn't there-

And that horrifying image in his head is what turned his soft crying into desperate sobs, shaking and pulling his hair so tight it stung.

And that's also when he finally registered the frantic knocking on the door, how long has that been going on? and Remus's panicked voice coming from the other side.

"Jan? Baby, I can hear you crying, fuck, are you hurt? If you want me to fuck off, tell me, but- Oh, Jay, please answer, even a knock, just let me know if you're alright-"

Janus reached with trembling hands to unlock the door, even as his mind went no don't he could be sick, and he quickly moved away from the door a little so Remus wouldn't smack him in the face with the door when he came bursting in.

And burst in he did. In a flurry of motion, Remus quickly came in and shut the door behind him, then sat on the floor with panicked, worried eyes looking at Janus.

"Janus? Can you- fuck, I'm not good at this- can I touch you?"

Somewhere, in the back behind the panic, Janus found his stumbling endearing.

Janus debated for half a second, social distance 6 feet apart you'll die you'll die you'll die, before crumbling to his desire to be held.

"Pl- Please, hold me, I- I can't-" Janus's voice came out absolutely pathetic, broken up in sobs and small and trembling, but Remus paid it no mind. He quickly scooped up Janus in his arms, and Janus held onto him for dear life, like he'll be swept away if he doesn't. He cries so hard he's almost heaving, shaking like a leaf in Remus's strong, tattooed arms.

Oh, Remus, make it go away, He thought, and then cried harder because what a childish thing to think.

"Shh, shh, you're alright, I've got you. Can you breathe with me, darling? In and out, you're okay," Remus's voice was calm and soothing, the panic deliberately gone from his voice, probably to not make him feel worse. He breathed in deeply, over exaggerating his breaths so that Janus could follow along.

Janus tried to follow the rhythm, hiccupping through his tears. He stumbled a few times, and it took a bit, but he eventually was able to settle his breathing. His tears had started to slow, and he suddenly felt overwhelmingly childish.

He just had a breakdown over something so stupid. It's not like he's the only one affected by covid, they're in a fucking pandemic, and he has no right to panic when he's not even sick. He's fine.

Janus and Remus had only been together for a few months, so Remus hadn't seen this side of Janus yet. This was sure to make him leave. Fuck, he's so stupid.

"There you are, baby," Remus crooned with a soothing voice, and Janus flushed despite himself. Remus wiped away one of his lingering tears, his palm cupping Janus's cheek, and Janus leaned into the warmth, suddenly exhausted. He felt boneless and hollowed out inside of Remus's arms, like his limbs were made of lead.

"I'm sorry," Janus croaked, and Remus was shushing him before he could get more words out.

"No, shut up, you're not allowed to apologize for having a panic attack. You have nothing to apologize for." Remus was strong and steady, and Janus opened his eyes that he didn't mean to close. For some reason, he wanted to deny that what just happened was a panic attack. "You're okay, love, we're okay."

Janus gave a small laugh in spite of himself, and Remus huffed, indignant. "What?"

"Nothing, just- you use a l- lot more cutesy nicknames when you're calming me down." Janus noted, and Remus puffed up like a peacock, but he was smiling.

"Would you rather I use my normal names? J-anus? Two Dicks? Hot ass? Da-"

Janus cut him off with laughter and a smack to the arm, "Shut up, you awful man, that wasn't an invitation-"

Remus was laughing too, grin blinding. When they both stopped laughing, they just sat there for a while in comfortable silence. Remus traced the vitiligo patches on Janus's back through the clothes (Janus flushed at the fact that Remus just knew where they were) and Janus traced the tattoos on Remus's brown skin.

After several long, quiet moments, Remus's quiet voice broke the silence. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Instantly, Janus went tense, before shaking his head no. He couldn't explain it without sounding stupid, and he didn't want Remus to leave.

Besides, there was nothing Remus could truly say that he hasn't heard before.

Nothing will make it go away.

Remus nodded, content with not pushing. "Well, I say we move the cuddling to the bed and not the floor, how does that sound?"

Before Janus could respond, Remus just scooped him up, effortlessly in the air. Janus squeaked and held onto Remus before Remus just dumped him down unceremoniously onto the bed, bouncing a little on the springs.

Remus laid down on his back, and Janus immediately crawled to him and curled up next to him, laying his head on Remus's chest and Remus wrapping an arm around him.

"Nap time," Janus mumbled into Remus's shirt. Janus felt more than heard him chuckle.

"Well, if the king says it's nap time, then I have no choice but to obey." Janus swatted at him lazily, and he couldn't see it, but he bet Remus grinned. Remus laid a quick kiss to his temple and his heart swelled.

The worry still pricked in the back of Janus's mind. He was sure that later, he was going to freak out over this moment, that the sudden contact made him contract an illness.

But right now, at this moment, he's fine. He's with his boyfriend, and his other friends and his brother are in the house somewhere too, no doubt worried about Janus. They're all vaccinated, healthy, and safe.

I'm okay, he thought, the thought not panic induced this time, and fell asleep next to Remus, and dreamt of nothing but warmth.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #janus sanders #janus sanders angst #tw covid #tw hypochondria #dukeceit #fanfic #janus sanders fanfic

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channiebbang · 4 years ago

Text

alone.

synopsis: changbin and y/n's relationship, although it started beautifully, hit rock bottom a long time ago and while he fell headfirst into his university life and all the chaos and craziness that comes with it, she was left behind. while he had the time of his life for the first time ever she was drowning in the arms of her biggest enemy and friend, loneliness and self doubt. changbin hears her cries of help a little too late.

characters: Changbin, Main Character, a smidge of Bang Chan.

pairing: unistudent!changbin x f.maincharacter

genre: angst, das all, just angst

word count: 1.9k

warnings: description of being left behind and feeling forgotten, loneliness and self doubt.

author’s note: i think i wrote this someday during spring of 2020, when i wasn't in a good place. this hits a bit close to home and is way too personal but bc i'm a person that doesn't really express themselves that much i found out writing helps a lot so here it is lol i hope you enjoy reading this 💛

She felt small sitting under Changbin's cold gaze, her eyes kept shifting here and there to always end up falling down to her twiddling fingers.

It had been a little over fifteen minutes, and he hadn't said a word. She knew what the matter was, but she was scared of where this was leading.

"Tell me what's up," Changbin suddenly said. Y/n's head snapped up at his voice. Her eyes stared at his face for a while.

"What?" She muttered, hating how hesitant she sounded. When did things become so uncomfortable.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked again, his usual higher, sweet voice now low and gruff. Y/n gulped.

Suddenly she understood why everyone said Changbin was scary when angry, although she didn't know if he was angry or upset. Either ways, it was scary.

"I don't understand," she mumbled only for him to quickly snap back.

"Bullshit. Tell me," he demanded, arms crossed. And god, it was so intimidating.

"Can you not intimidate me so much," she asked, a nervous snicker leaving her lips. Changbin didn't give any signs of change. Y/n cleared her throat her eyes falling once again to her fingers.

"You want to break up?" Changbin suddenly asked, his voice cold and almost mocking. Y/n closed her eyes, head down. She felt so small in front of him.

Things hadn't been going the best between them for a while. And where it first started because Changbin couldn't keep his promise of always making time for her when she needed it, it followed with her slowly distancing herself and closing off. The loneliness too much to bear at times.

And she got so used to him not being there that she made friends with the loneliness. It provided her more comfort than Changbin did.

She knew she shouldn't have put so much of herself into a guy, after all it happened before too. But Changbin was different.

He had to be, right? He was my bestfriend, he knew me so well. I had no reason to watch my back as I let myself fall with my eyes closed. He could read me so well. Then why wasn't he there when I called for him? Why was I cast aside the same way I was before? Why did he forget what I cried to him about in the past while I was with someone else? How did he forget about his bestfriend?

He promised. As soon as you feel like I'm not giving you enough time, you tell me, and I will drop whatever I'm doing to talk to you and vice versa, he said. If you need me at any moment, you call me, and I will too, he said. I want this to work, i love you so much, he said. I will try my best so it doesn't get to the point where I don't give you enough time, he said.

So when she called the first time why did he snicker and tell her he had to figure some stuff out now that he was in university, with it being the first few weeks of it, and things being chaotic. And she understood.

But then he was figuring things out, sorting out his schedule, socializing, partying, making new friends, hanging out with them, going to classes, having meetings with the clubs he joined. And where did she fall in between all that? So she understood.

And when she couldn't, she called him asking for just a ten minute call a day, she would be okay with just that. Just ten minutes of his attention.

And you can call her an attention whore, that's okay. She can be one for her boyfriend if she wanted to, she had every right to ask for a little of his attention.

But why didn't she receive that ten minute call after the fourth day? Why were his texts coming in so late?

30 minutes. 1 hour. 2 hours. 3 hours.

She trusted him, blindly, she knew him all too well not to. He was her bestfriend.

So she called again, tried to get her ten minute call. He was never alone. Friends always surrounding him, and where she was glad and happy for him that he clicked with a circle in university, so he didn't have to be alone and drowning in his thoughts, she also sat there, on the phone with him, while he sat there with his friends.

And she spoke, fuck, she tried to tell him stuff that happened in her daily life like she always did. She just wanted to fucking talk to her bestfriend like she did the past five years. But who would she speak to when he wasn't listening to a word she said.

So sometimes she would abruptly stop talking and see if he'd notice. He wouldn't. And if he would it would be when it's been too silent on the other side and he would say, "hello? You there?" "Yeah!" She would say in a light voice, so he wouldn't notice.

And then she was the one drowning. And she hated water, goddammit, she hated it so much, she was terrified of it but she would choose that over the drowning she was going through.

The voices in her head too many, drowning her, screaming over her, comforting her. Because now someone was talking.

Comfort was loneliness, and again, she got used to the sweet lullaby the silence would sing. So loud, yet so calming.

Because silence can't hurt you, loneliness can't disappoint you. They won't ever leave you.

And in months, she was closed off once again.

Where she had her bestfriend in the past, she had no one now.

And she hated herself for it, she hated it because she lost her bestfriend. The only person that could ever help her, the only person that she could ever run to, the only person that she could say anything to.

Suddenly she had no one to help her, that she could run to or that she could talk to.

And everything was back on being suffocating. The empty feeling sucking her in it's black hole, the constant lost feeling looming over her.

She couldn't talk to him about herself anymore, she just couldn't.

So she knew he was meaninglessly taunting her with that question, but was it even appropriate when he knew they were on the rocks? Was he so willing to ask such a risky thing when she was so used to being alone?

Changbin stared at the girl in front of him, wondering what happened.

She used to be so full of light, so full of life. And now she was just a shell of her old self. She was doing so good, they were doing so good.

And he knew it was mostly his fault, and damn, did he hate himself for it. He should've seen it before. The signs were obvious.

How did he not see it? He had spent a lot of his time in the arms of the same loneliness for so long, how did he not see it?

He had spent so much of his teenage life, if not all of it, drowning in his own loneliness, his own voices. He had been lost for so long, and she was the one that gave him hope. She helped him without even realizing. Hell, even he didn't know. Then how did he let this happen to her?

What games was fate playing with him?

He had told her so many times how small things she did or said helped him cope up so much when he was the one drowning. His bestfriend was the light at the end of the tunnel.

How did he push her down the same tunnel he struggled to come out of? The same tunnel she helped him out of? How did he turn his back on the same hands that helped steady him without even knowing anything? How dare he?

He saw her in this state before, he helped her out of it when that bastard shoved her too deep into the claws of self hatred. Loneliness her most comforting friend back then too. He helped her out of it, then how did he let her fall again?

His hands felt clammy now, his body heating up as he tried to keep his emotions at bay.

She gulped down the lump in her throat, not wanting him to see her weak and bothered. She didn't want to worry him. She hated the thought of him thinking he had to watch over her, he had to keep her from falling again. She didn't want to be a burden, she felt like that her whole life already.

She took a deep breath as she looked up at him, a small sad smile on her lips and Changbin held in his breath not believing but also knowing where this was going. And it broke the couple's heart.

"That would be the most reasonable think to do, don't you think?" She asked, and fuck why did she have to sound so sweet yet so heartbreaking? He thought, gulping down.

"No, we can make this work," he furrowed his eyebrows, stubborn, hopeful. And y/n almost smiled at her stubborn baby, but she couldn't. He hadn't been her baby in a long time.

"Changbin," she whispered and Changbin hated it. Hated how she called him, how she made him sound pathetic and like a baby and an involuntary sob escaped his lips.

And almost immediately she got up from her seat on his desk chair and her arms were around his wide shoulders as his head pressed against her stomach. Her own tears running down her cheeks as she quietly sobbed with him.

"I'm so sorry," he choked out, arms tightly secured around her thighs. She nodded, her cheek resting against his hair as she stroked his locks with one hand, the other secured around his shoulders.

"I'm very sorry, too," she spoke against his hair, her voice strained.

"No, I was supposed to be there for you. You told me you were not okay, I should've been there for you, I-I should've, should've," she shushed him, wrapping both of her arms around him and bending forward to rest her head against his shoulder.

"Don't," she scolded softly, her constant tears probably wetting his hair as they ran down.

"Don't lose yourself, okay?" She reminded him, her fingers running through his hair again as she stood up straight. She felt Changbin's arms tighten a bit more.

"Stop worrying about me, think about yourself for once," he sternly spoke, his voice rough. He refused to let go. He just needed a little bit more.

"I will," she said nodding, even though he couldn't see her and Changbin snorted.

"No, you won't," he spat out and she flinched because she knew it too but she decided not to say anything.

She had left after calming him down but to be honest, both of them knew the other broke down crying as soon as they were out of each other's sight.

Changbin stared at his bedroom ceiling, staring at nothing in particular.

A knock at the door brought his attention to it, his eyes shifting to Bang Chan standing at the door.

The older walked in, a tight lipped smile on his lips as he handed a cold water bottle to his friend.

"Thanks, hyung," Changbin smiled at him, sitting up and taking a sip of the water right away.

"Don't worry, Bin. Everything will be okay," he softly spoke, his hand comfortingly grasping Changbin's shoulder, and the younger couldn't help but nod, hopeful. Trusting his oldest friend.

"I hope so too," he muttered.

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unholyplumpprincess · 4 years ago

Text

Dumb Little Slut

For @shortythescreen who asked for: 53 “Call yourself a dumb little slut.” w the Doctor? 👀

Humor? In MY porn??? More likely than you think.

Reblogs > Likes. Please Reblog if u hit like!

!!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked on sight!!!

Fandom: Dead By Daylight

Relationship: The Doctor/Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader is gender neutral and ambiguous but the area to explain their chest is read as Tits, but no explicit tiddy can Be there, degrading names, lil shockies to the junk but only tinglies, otherwise p tame!

Words: 900

__________

Maybe you weren’t the brightest lightbulb in the box for your tactics.

Maybe being loud and flipping up your shirt to flash a killer wasn’t the smartest idea you’d had yet. But, it had worked, didn’t it? You were able to watch the Doctor turn his unblinking gaze to you, dazed for a few moments and that gave you enough time with your team to bolt from the generator.

Maybe flashing your tits wasn’t the normal method for distraction, but, hey, if it worked it worked. Right?

~Rest under the cut~

You’d tried it again on other killers. Everyone seemed affected in some way or another. You weren’t sure if it was anger at you trying something so silly, or maybe it was just straight up a lot of them hadn’t seen a tit in a long time. Or ever, for that matter, judging by how the Wraith had let out this grunt like you’d hit him with a flashlight and quickly banged his bell to go invisible.

It was the Doctor that seemed prepared for you the next time. Because in the time you’d had to lift your shirt up for round two, that was the time it took for him to close the distance, hook his shock filled fingertips under your collar, and yank it clean over your head.

Yeah, okay, maybe not what you were expecting, and not the worst thing that could have happened, but you can only imagine the hilarious look that was on your face. In a panic you’d held still, your shirt on the floor, looking at him look at you with that damned killer gaze and permanent grin.

But he didn’t...swing. His shocking stick held firmly in his other hand as his head tilted at you- as if watching a specimen.

It took five seconds before you laughed nervously and managed to get out, “Hey, take me to dinner first, big guy.” And received the high pitched, haunting laugh from the killer in front of you.

It’s safe to say you didn’t escape that round, but that left you full of adrenaline. If...If he laughed at your joke, did that mean that the killers were all like you? Playing a game yet keeping your humanity in tact?

Did that mean they weren’t all reacting to your tits with curiosity and maybe some of them were horny?

...You supposed only one way to find out.

It takes three new trials before you run into the Doctor again. You suppose if you can get away with it, why not try it? What’s the worst that can happen besides him humiliating you in front of your teammates by using a Mori you?

So you do it again, except this time you whip off your top, prop yourself up on the desk where you’d found an office, and offered yourself in a trade for your teammates.

And it works.

Shockingly.

You didn’t realize that the killers could form some sort of bond. On the fourth time you’ve done this, you’ve been thrown over the desk, your head held down to the wood by a large hand and a cock fit inside of you.

The Doctor has only pulled down his pants and shifted his lab coat aside, while your shirt has been pulled up to expose your chest, your pants yanked down and a greedy hand grabbing your tit as hips slap against your ass. You’re dizzy, his voice echoing through your head like a haunting dream as you move an arm under your head to press your mouth against it to try and quiet your sounds.

“Pathetic little thing,” His voice laughs in your head. Echoing as if it belonged to three different people. It pitches towards the end into that haunting laugh that just makes you inhale sharply, nails trying to dig into the wood underneath you. “Let me hear you, why do you hide? ”

It’s a taunt. You know it’s a taunt. But a whimper blossoms from your chest, blocked by your arm as you stand on your tiptoes to try and get him deeper. The Doctor spares you, his hand moving from mercilessly pinching and tugging your nipple to slide between your legs.

As soon as his fingers get on you, you thrash and cry out, panting as you approach and get closer and closer-

Then he stops. His hand flush against you but not moving. His hips have slammed home into you, his thick cock heavily jerking and making you wish you could push him over and ride him. The asshole.

“Why don’t you say that you’re my dumb little slut and I’ll let you cum, hm? I am a patient man.” His voice rings in your head as his hand charges with static pulses over your sex. Enough to make you yelp, turning your head from your arm and shooting a hand down to grab at his wrist to no avail. You shudder at the warming sensations, trying to shake your head and mumble begs under your breath instead.

“Not quite.” He snarls in your head, tracing his tingling fingertips up your skin and leaving you sobbing as you feel a wave of your orgasm abruptly halt.

“Fuck-” You choke out, throwing your head back and stomping your foot once like a petulant child. The Doctor immediately abuses this, his hand that had been holding your waist and snatching your hair at the root to yank you back flush to his body. It leaves you exposed, eyes half lidded and able to look out at the broken window just as another generator clicks on.

“I am patient. Can you say the same, my dear?”

Damn him. Stupid killers.

#The Doctor #The Doctor x Reader #dbd #dead by daylight #dick by daylight #Herman Carter #drabble #nsft #lemon #princess writing

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wlntrsldler · 4 years ago

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unrequited (draco malfoy/ cedric diggory series)

PROMPT: You and Cedric grew up together. After the tragedy of the Triwizard Tournament, you’re left feeling empty without your best friend. Draco Malfoy steps into the picture. Will the feelings be reciprocated? Or will it be unrequited?

WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, angst, fluff, sadness???

PAIRING: draco malfoy x reader and cedric diggory x reader; hufflepuff reader

WC: 2.2K

UNREQUITED MASTERLIST

PART 3

“Y/N!”

You heard the twins’ cheery voices from across the hall. You looked up to see their grinning faces, completely unbothered by the fact that they got themselves two weeks worth of detention with Umbridge. Fred and George happily made their way over to the bench where you sat by yourself.

“Hello, boys,” You smiled, eyes darting to the red scars on the top of their hands. “What happened to you two?”

“Umbridge.” They grunted, wincing in pain as their open scars oozed small droplets of blood. “She’s brutal.”

“Well, now I feel horrible.” You frowned, examining their hands. “I should be going through this with you.”

“Nonsense.” Fred hushed.

“Our job is to make you smile.” George stated. “Bringing you down with us is quite the opposite of that.”

“Your job?” You questioned, confused by their choice of words. “I appreciate the sentiment but I don’t think my happiness should be your job. You two should be taking care of yourselves.”

“Yeah but we never break a promise.”

A puzzled look took over your face, unsure of what they were talking about. Before you could ask them about it, they said their goodbyes and left you alone once again. You sighed, returning to the comfort of your book. The whispers haven’t stopped. In fact, they haven’t slowed down from the time you’ve arrived at Hogwarts. Granted that it's only been a day, but you would think that Wizards and Witches would find comfort in other things rather than the loneliness of a half-blood Hufflepuff.

You continued to ignore their words and their constant need to tiptoe around you. They feared you. It was like they were afraid of you now that you were alone. Cedric always was the more popular one. Outgoing by nature and easy on the eyes. You remembered the attention he got once he was chosen to be a champion and the envious eyes of every girl who saw you beside him at all times. Envious eyes followed you as you entered the Yule Ball with him, hand in hand, with an irreplaceable smile etched on your face.

You never once thought that you’d miss those envious eyes but right now, you’d much rather take those over their eyes of pity.

You closed your book, stuffing it in your book bag, before getting up to wander around the castle. Although you’ve attended Hogwarts for years, you seemed to not know your way around. You always relied on Cedric to take you from one place to another, never once imagining that there’d be a day where he wouldn’t be two steps ahead of you.

You heard a soft humming coming from the girls’ lavatory, one that you didn’t even know existed. You followed the voice, ignoring the signs saying that it was out of order. You peeked around and saw a ghost, a girl, twirling in the air all by herself. Had it been any other day, you would’ve ran away in fear that you’ve angered the ghost, but something about her pigtails and sweet voice assured you that you’d be alright.

The lavatory was empty, hollow almost. It was unused and not cared for in the slightest.. Had it not been for the ghost, it would’ve been deprived of any sign of life. The air was chilly, a lot colder than the halls that led up to it. And it was so quiet. The silence was eerie. You could no longer hear the chatter from students just a few meters away. It was like the sounds bounced off the walls.

“Hello,” You greeted, stepping out from behind the wall. “That’s a lovely tune.”

She turned around, stunned, but it subsided once she took a look at you. “Why, hello there. Thank you, a friend of mine taught me the song. What brings you here?”

“Just wandering,” You shrugged. You motioned to the empty lavatory. “May I join you?”

“Of course,” She smiled, floating down towards you. “Are you wandering because you’re lonely?”

You blinked a few times, taken back by her question. You pondered for a moment, deciding if you should lie to her as you’ve been lying to everyone else who asked you about your well-being. You decided not to lie, not really seeing any consequences of being truthful to a ghost. “Yes, how did you know?”

“A lot of lonely souls find their way to me.” She responded nonchalantly. “My name is Myrtle.”

“Nice to meet you.” You nodded, realizing that she was the ghost everyone mentioned. You didn’t think that the rumors were true, but now that you’ve met her, you didn’t mind it. “My name is Y/N.”

Myrtle grinned, eyes lighting up at your name. “Y/N Y/L/N?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, confused, but nodded anyway. How did she know who you were? “Yes, that’s me.”

Her bubbly laugh filled the silence of the room. She twirled in the air, excitement evident in her actions. “You’re Cedric’s friend!”

“You know Cedric?”

“We met once.”

“May I ask how?”

She giggled like a schoolgirl, blushing behind the hand she used to cover her mouth. “I helped him with the golden egg.”

Your voice faltered. “I see.”

“Oh my,” She frowned. “I seem to have forgotten. I apologize.”

“It’s quite alright, Myrtle.” You gulped, blinking back tears.

“Hmm,” Myrtle mumbled. “He talked about you the entire time. By the end of it all, I became so excited to meet you. I made him promise that he’d let me meet you if I helped him figure out the clue.”

You smiled a bit at her confession, knowing that Cedric would’ve taken you to meet her if fate hadn’t taken him so soon. “I’m sorry that he’s broken his promise.”

“You seemed to find your way here anyway.”

You sat beside Hermione at the Gryffindor table, trying to focus on their smiles rather than the jabber around you: “She’s a Hufflepuff, why is she sitting here?” “I guess that’s what happens when you’ve only got one friend.” “Poor girl. She lost Cedric and now she’s as lost as ever.”

It’s been a few weeks since your arrival at Hogwarts and you were starting to find your ground again. You started hanging out with the Trio more often, as well as continuing your adventures with the Twins. You’ve slowly started to learn how to live again. The other students, however, have not. It only made it worse that the only friends you did have were from a different house.

Hermione grasped your hand and gave it a little squeeze in appreciation, “I’m glad you’re sitting with us. I was getting scared that you preferred the twins.”

You smiled, “I could never replace you, Hermione.” You motioned towards Harry and Ron, who were gulping down food before they even chewed it, from across the table. “They, however, can be replaced.”

Ron looked up at your words, eyes narrowing, “Hey, that’s not nice.”

“Don’t worry, Ron,” Harry nudged him, not looking up from his pile of food. “She knows she loves us.”

“Sure, Potter. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Hermione couldn’t help but giggle at your silly banter, happy that you're slowly reverting back to your old self. She knew that you’ll never truly be who you once were but the way that you smile at little comments and laugh at stupid jokes makes her feel a bit hopeful. The boys were also relieved to see you sitting with them again. They knew that you left to be by yourself when you first arrived at Hogwarts and they decided that it would be best to leave you alone. They didn’t want to push you or pressure you to hang out with them but in all honesty, they missed you. They missed you terribly.

You continued to talk about nothing for a few minutes before a package landed in front of you. You looked down at it, inspecting the address, and the wrapping parchment. The trio stared at you, urging you to open the it. You obliged and started to rip apart the parchment. Your heart sunk as you saw a familiar yellow fabric under a note from your aunt.

It read: “You forgot this and I saw it in your closet when I was cleaning out your room. I saw it was a bit dirty so I took the liberty of putting it in the wash for you. We love you and we miss you.”

You moved the note aside, taking in a sharp breath when your fingers touched the sweater. You saw that the stain where Cedric’s blood once was, was faded, leaving an ugly orange mark where his initials were embroidered. Your hands shook as you lifted it up to place near your chest. You didn’t realize that she would be going through your things. You weren’t expecting this to show up in front of you.

As you choked on your sobs, you heard the whispers start up again, but this time they were all jumbled. You didn��t care enough to say anything. You got up, sweater in your hand, and ran out. You heard Ron call out for you, silverware clattering as he tried to follow, but Hermione placed a gentle hand on his arm, reminding him that you process grief differently. You ran towards the path to the secret passageway, shoving past everyone who stood in your way. Once you got there, you froze upon seeing people standing near it. You didn’t want to risk anyone else knowing about it.

Sighing, you made your way to another part of the castle that you’ve grown fond of. As you climbed up the steps, you stared down at the sweater in your arms. It was pathetic how something so small could have such an effect on you. You were aware that death is something of the inevitable. But maybe it was your muggle side that never understood it, how everyone managed to recover from death so quickly. Even Harry who didn’t even know about the Wizard world seemed to recover so fast. You never understood it.

As you neared the astronomy tower, you heard a familiar tune. Someone was there, humming something that you swore you’ve heard before. You looked inside and saw Draco leaning against the railing, staring off into the distance. His robe was swaying in the wind, his fingers tapping against the metal following the rhythm of the tune he was humming.

His expression was unreadable. His eyes were stone cold and his jaw was set. He clenched it ever so slightly. Draco closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling through his nose. He looked almost peaceful up there. The murmur of his chest, the rustling of the winds in the distance, and the soft creaking of the steps were the only things heard.

“Who’s there?”

You flinched, not knowing what excuse you would have to say as to why you spent a good few minutes staring at him in admiration. Mustering up the courage to speak, you revealed yourself to Draco, hiding the sweater behind your back. “Sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be here.”

“What are you doing here?” He asked, not fully turning his body to face you.

“I’m assuming the same as you.” You shrugged, taking his question as an invitation to join him. “Needed to get away.”

“This place is occupied, Hufflepuff.” Draco noted, annoyance laced in his voice. “Find your own place.”

You ignored his comment, planting yourself beside him. He moved a few steps away, irritated by your stubbornness to stay. “I suppose I haven’t said my proper thanks for letting me off the hook with Umbridge that one night.”

“I don’t need your thanks.” He commented, now facing you. His eyes were a bit glossy and his voice was scratchy. It seemed like he’d been crying. “But I do need you to see yourself out.”

Again you ignored him, staring him straight in the eye. “What tune were you humming? It sounded familiar.”

“Y/N.” He said, more sternly this time. “Leave.”

“No.”

Draco sighed, running his fingers through his hair. You noticed that the ring was no longer on his finger. In fact, the only indication that he was a Slytherin was his robe, which was unusual for him. He often liked to wear his house pride in every way possible. You found it quite obnoxious at times.

“Fine,” He finally settled, stepping away from the railings and towards the steps to exit. “Then I’ll leave.”

Before he could take his first step down, you spoke up. “Why didn’t you tell Umbridge about me?”

He paused, hand gripping the sides of the staircase. You heard him gulp. “Don’t question it. It’s annoying.”

“But I want to know.”

“Don’t make me change my mind. I’ll march over to Umbridge right now and tell her that I saw you that night.” Draco turned around, almost spitting his words out.

“Sorry. Nevermind, then.” You cowered a bit, not expecting his harsh tone. You looked down at your feet, embarrassed that a simple change in his tone already made you seem weaker. When you looked back up to look at Draco, you could’ve swore that his face softened for a minute. You stared at him turn back around to leave.

Just as you faced the railings, once again, Draco’s voice echoed across the room. “My mother used to sing that song to me when I was a child.”

“Huh?”

“The song I was humming.” He clarified, head poking out from beyond the steps spiraling down. “My mother used to sing it to me.”

TAGLIST IS OPEN! SEND AN ASK!

@melancholiaflowers @jjjmaybank @marshxx @truly-insatiable @poisoned-pineapple

#harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter series #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy series #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy imagine #cedric diggory fanfic #cedric diggory #cedric diggory series #cedric diggory imagine #ron weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #unrequited fic #frances writes #hermione granger

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mandoinevarro · 5 years ago

Text

Cara’s Restless Week

Words: 4k

Rating: E

Warnings: Smut, vaginal intercourse, masturbation, voyeurism, choking, cuckolding? Not sure :/

a/n: I’m once again ignoring baby yoda. He’s at a sleepover at Omera’s, also he and all children go deaf at night, don’t worry about them.

Cara Dune can’t sleep.

The night is still and warm, and the steady rhythm of drizzle batting against the roof of her shelter would’ve been enough to lull her to sleep under any other circumstances. Even the crickets outside seem to have fallen into a uniform, soothing symphony.

And yet, Cara can’t sleep.

She’s no stranger to restless nights—Maker, she’s no stranger to restless weeks, but she never thought she’d have bedtime troubles inside a comfortable bungalow in Sorgan, days after they’ve driven away the threats to the peaceful community. She tosses and turns on her cot, presses a straw pillow against her face, tries counting blurgs, but it’s no use. No matter what Cara does, she can’t stop hearing the choked moans coming from the cabin next to hers. She kicks the covers away and stumps around in circles inside her cramped hut.

It’s not like it came as a surprise to her.

She suspected something was brewing under the surface from the first day she met the Mandalorian. Settling things with him was easy enough after they learnt that no, he didn’t have a fob on her, and no she wasn’t after a green baby growing wings out of his head. She smiled when the pretty woman feeding broth to said kid giggled at her description.

Cara’s first impression of you was pleasant enough; you smiled easily and contributed every now and then with your own sharp observations, not to mention how much the shock trooper liked the feeling between her legs every time your breasts bounced with each hearty laugh. She even thought of making a move, but stopped the lewd come-on from tumbling past her teeth once she noticed the way your gaze followed your Mandalorian’s every move. Inside some buried corner in the back of her mind, Cara recognized the look. If not something deeper (because softer passions are hard to nurture in this harsh galaxy), it was—at the very least—a look of profound longing. And, although those gentle sentiments had abandoned Cara somewhere in the blur of her past, she’d lived enough to know that glimpse in your pupils whenever he’d get too close to you was there to stay.

The drizzle turns into rain. Instead of drowning them, the loud pebbling clatter of fat droplets only gives the mewls a vibration and solidity that they lacked before. She steps out of the lodge, hoping the pouring water will clear her mind and send her back to bed. But—like if you were purposefully working to lengthen her insomnia— as soon as her head pokes out, the whimpers that hit her are noisier and clearer, and she immediately goes back inside. She sits on a stool, impatiently grabs at her trimmed hair, searches her warrior’s brain for a solution.

She kept her distance that afternoon and thought she’d never see either of you again, and hadn’t at all expected the leather hand that dropped a pouch of credits at her feet in the dark Sorgan woods.

A little action and some pocket money were a good bargain, so Cara took the job. She promised herself, though, to keep her cravings for you at bay. It wasn’t very hard at first. Everyone in the community spent weeks doing little but prepare for the impending attack of the raiders. Cara and the Mandalorian trained the villagers, planned the defense strategy, went over the plan over and over again, helped dig ditches, and neither of them had much time to think about you.

It wasn’t until after their victory—after the Imperial AT-ST was destroyed and, with it, the invaders’ oppressive grip on the fishing village—that they both allowed themselves to occupy their heads on something—or rather, someone—a lot more pleasant.

By that point, Cara had gotten pretty good at reading Mando’s body language. Gestures that she’d once thought were signs of indifference or trained stoicism picked up completely different meanings. She remarked how his spine would relax and he’d lose a few inches whenever he’d see his son playing with the village’s children. She took note of the way his helmet would tilt to the side and his modulated voice would drag a little at the end on the rare occasion he made a joke. She was next to him on the afternoon his dark visor fixated on you when, in front of a particularly orange sunset, the last beams of light melted over your glowing figure, painting your skin and hair with changing colors. She definitely didn’t miss the sore sigh that fractured at the sight before it even left the helmet.

Cara cements her legs on the ground for stability and cracks her knuckles once, twice, until the joints go mushy and they stop clicking.

She can tell you’re trying to hush your sounds as best as you can. She can tell because every time a notably loud whine defies your restraint, it is instantly muffled by a hand or some other utensil you’ve learned you need after your long nights of pleasure.

It’s been going on for a couple of days now, and Cara is starting to find it fucking insufferable. She honestly doesn’t know what’s worse: the sleepless nights or the mornings that follow. For the uninitiated, your morning greetings and seemingly innocent small talk would be polite, but unremarkable. Cara, though, knows better. She’s there for every conspiring smile, every brush of his gloves against your hips. She even catches some of the furtive whispers and caresses you exchange sometimes, when you think nobody’s looking. How you blush when he crowds you with his superior stature; how he sneaks out of your tent at dawn.

And, it’s not like Cara is jealous of Mando. Although you’re nice and easy to talk to, she knows that her feelings for you are purely physical, and she’s spent enough time around you both to know that whatever is going on between you two had been ballooning for a pretty long time until it inevitably burst. If anything, she’s relieved that, after such a torturous period of mutual pining, you’ve finally found an outlet for your affection. She’s happy for her friends. But she can’t fucking sleep.

The relentless moaning starts bending the humid air into clearer shapes. You’re talking to each other. Against all her instincts, Cara drops to the floor in all fours and crawls closer to barrier of her lodging. She presses her ear to the scratchy wall. The sounds are swallowed, and she only makes out an attuned voice that says, “…wanted…from…first day…”

What she can hear loud and clear is a wet, squelching noise that goes to the beat of the dropping rain. The warrior feels like an anvil drops on her chest and slumps on the floor.

If she’s being honest, it’s not even the lack of rest that’s really bothering her—although it does contribute to her daily grumpiness. The reason she finds it unbearable to sit through the rich sounds of your consummated lust night after night is that she knows exactly what she’s missing.

Because she’s been to almost every system and fought every fight. She’s witnessed the destruction of planets and their birth. She’s slept on empty deserts, under the watchful eye of their celestial vault. She’s cheated death. But there’s nothing, absolutely nothing she’s found on her long voyages across the galaxy that compares to the electric current that shocks her nerve endings when someone’s flesh presses against hers. Nothing like having someone strip down bare and let her learn them, inside and out.

So, Cara sits and listens, sits and listens, sits and listens…, until—stubborn, willful woman that she is—she decides that enough is enough.

She stands and struts outside with heavy steps like she’s battlebound, lets the rain—now a storm—drench her skin and underclothes, lets her boots sink in mud. She stops at the entrance of your tent, where the cries are loudest and barely concealed by the rainfall. Her plan is to come in quickly, averting her gaze, and sternly tell you two to keep it down or find another place to fuck. She pushes the flap of the entrance open.

Neither of you see her. How could you, when your nude back is facing her, and Mando, on his underarmor and beneath you, has his helmet thrown back against the floor, probably staring directly at the way your breasts bob gently with your leisurely up-and-down movements.

Cara stays at the entrance, partially hidden by the shadows that the oil lamp beside you can’t reach. She really does try to move. She wills her legs to step forward and make her presence known, but a wave of heat hits her hard when she sees the low, orange light embrace your lower back and drop to your ass with your languid movements. She tells her head to turn around, but her limbs have rebelled against her and remain frozen in front of the show.

Defeated, she stands in the gloom. The mythic warrior Carasynthia Dune helplessly stares at the lovers, pathetically wet and overcome with the desire to simply witness.

A part of her doesn’t care about the morality of it. Not when she sees your trembling thighs rock particularly hard over the Mandalorian, which draws a strangled sob from you and a low grumble from him, both of which can probably be heard three huts over. He quickly lifts one of the gloved hands holding your hips and presses it against your gaping mouth, like he wasn’t the one who moaned the loudest. Still, his grip does nothing to hide the obscene sound of your cunt taking his veins and ridges inside, your juices blending with his.

She’s entranced by the way your fists are clamped on his undershirt and whines seem to knot in your throat as he brings a hand to your back drawing soothing circles. You’re both so laughably bad at keeping quiet.

I could stay here, she thinks after a moment, here in the dark, where they won’t see me.

The hair on the nape of the neck stands up.

You look so elated, doing your best to pleasure each other. Neither of you speak, but you seem to be communicating through grunts, erotic movements, and caresses that carry more meaning than Cara could decipher. It looks like you’re confessing something unspeakable to each other.

Cara whimpers. It’s only a tiny syllable, but it apparently draws the Mandalorian’s attention, because the helmet rolls to side and focuses on the spot where shadows camouflage her. She freezes.

He grabs your thighs tightly and groans, “Fuck—C-cara?”

You immediately stop moving and remove your hands from his chest in indignation. “What?”

“N-no, no. I mean…” He points towards the general area where she’s hiding. Your upper body follows his finger.

Cara hasn’t blushed from embarrassment in years, so she’s confused when she feels blood stab at her cheeks. For a fleeting moment, she thinks that if she’s just very quiet and stays very still, you’ll go back to your motions and wave off the feeling that someone’s watching. It’s stupid and Cara knows it. Cursing herself, she steps out of the shadows, slickness sticking to her inner thighs with the shifting of her legs.

Her voice is dusty when she speaks, looking down at the floor like a child caught awake after bedtime. “I…I’m sorry I just—” The rain outside rings in her ears. She cracks her knuckles nervously and shifts her weight from leg to leg, thinking of a way to get out of it. “You were being too fucking loud. Stars, I’m sure they can hear you in Nevarro. You’ll have bounty hunters find you in no time if you keep this shit up.” Her words and tone are aggressive, but her eyes tell a different story, as they remain fixated on your heaving chest.

Neither of you move. Between the partial darkness and the helmet, she can’t really bring herself to try to read what Mando’s thinking. You, on the other hand, just look confused…and then, when you draw a line from the woman’s gaze to your naked chest, something else crosses your features. Not anger, not shame—something soft. Compassion, maybe?

Cara doesn’t stay to find out. She drags her feet across the floor to see herself out, as you turn to Mando and seem to tell him something in that secret, silent language of yours. He squeezes your thighs. Her name on your airy voice makes her stop.

“Cara,” you start, “w-would you—um—would you like to stay?”

The mercenary is sure she’s starting to hallucinate shit in an attempt to keep some of her dignity, until she indulges in one final look back and sees you with your arm extended, inviting her to join you.

She doesn’t notice when her legs come to life and drag her towards the couple, nor when her joints bend and sink to your level, kneeling and petrified. It’s only when your fingers brush her inner wrist and she pulls it back instinctively that she comes back to her senses.

Mando’s thumbs are drawing circles below your breasts. “Give her time.”

“You can touch me,” you tell the statue in front of you, but quickly add, “if you want. Or you can—” the bounty hunter must be cramping under your weight, because he repositions his hips, which makes him grunt and cuts you off, “—or you can only watch if you prefer. It’s okay.”

With a smile, you turn your attention back to the man trapped between your legs and resume your grinding. Whether you do it to put up a show for your guest, she’s not sure, but your rocking is stronger this time around, making sure you sink to the hilt and then pull almost completely out, before falling back down. Cara’s holding her breath. Maker, why is she acting like a fucking virgin? Her hands roll into fists when you throw your head back and pull a lustful wail from your insides.

Mando isn’t doing any better when he locks his fingers firmly on the curve of your ass and pants out, “You—you really enjoy the extra attention, don’t—don’t you?”

You exhale through your mouth with a smile and turn to stare straight into Cara’s eyes. “Maybe I d-do.”

It’s the playful glint your eyes and the way you sigh out the last word that make Cara think that a challenge was masked behind the simple statement. It snaps her back into reality.

Okay, then.

While your hunter caresses your backside, two strong hands grab your ribs and lift you a few inches, before bringing you down hard on the girthy phallus that splits you open. You and Mando both cry out at the suddenness of the satisfaction that burns a hole in your insides.

“Maybe Mando stands for your attitude,” Cara tells you as she pinches your right nipple and her face gets close to the other one, “but I don’t.” She traps your left breast in her hot mouth and nibbles at the peak. The Mandalorian—still trapped under—tries thrusting harder, and you grind down faster, short, high whimpers leaving your reddened lips. In the back of Cara’s mind, she feels bad for their generous Sorgan hosts, because there’s no way the whole village hasn’t woken up for the noise. The storm rages more violently, but—somehow—the thunder outside serves as a vessel for your frenzied moans and amplifies them.

Mando grabs two handfuls of your lower cheeks and pushes you further towards his chest, which forces Cara to lean back on her elbows. In the new position, your tits slap around her face and, even though she tries to pull them to her mouth, your whole body is being manhandled too swiftly by the Mandalorian for her to get a hold of you.

Annoyed, Cara places a heavy open palm on your sternum and pushes you back. “Fuck, keep still.” You lean back with no resistance, too limp with pleasure to put up a fight. She climbs back on you and sucks bruises on your collarbone, until her gaze falls on the union where the base of Mando’s sex ends and yours begins. She sees the creamy cum piling down there and—although she can’t tell which one of you is responsible for it—she scoops some with her fingers and uses it to massage it up and down your tense clit.

The muscles of your face cramp and your usual lovely expression contorts into a desperate frown. Her fingers collect more moisture and move faster against your bud, earning her a low purr, but it’s Mando’s head that turns to face her.

“Don’t s-stop,” he forces out, “y-you—th-that…’s m-making her t-tight.” He lets a shaky gasp out through the modulator. “You’re making her s-so fuck-fucking tight.” His member pushes against the snugness of your cunt as he tries to bury himself as deeply as your swollen walls will let him.

Cara complies and pulls the hood of your clit up. The direct pressure makes you jump and lose your balance, but the man below you catches your arms and holds you steady over him. You’re a mess, trembling and sobbing at the ceiling, so the Mandalorian lets go of one of your arms and brings his gloved palm to the back of your neck, working it so that you’re looking down at him. His hips are shaking with anticipation, but he still slows down and his thumb circles the soft skin of your neck. Cara lifts her attention from your soaked folds when she notices you’ve both stopped moving.

If her sleepless nights are any indication, you’ve only been having sex for about a week, but the way he holds you and calms you down tugs at something uncomfortable in Cara. It’s like he has you memorized already. He knows exactly how to touch you and how much you can take. He knows—much to his own detriment—when to stop.

Your breathing falls back to its normal pace and you’re starting to move again when she removes her fingers. You both groan in protest, but Cara just leans back out of the reach of the lamp’s flame and watches your bodies bathe in warm light. Panting, she sees you hold on to each other and comes to terms with the fact that she doesn’t belong wedged between your bodies, where you share something unknown to her. The realization isn’t as devastating as she thought it would be, and she figures it’s better to leave your carnal diversions between you two.

A helmet and a face stare expectantly, much like Rebel troops once focused on her awaiting orders.

Still, she muses with a light grin, that doesn’t mean I can’t teach them anything.

She scoots closer to your cot, and stops where only half of her body is covered in light. Surprisingly, Mando doesn’t pull away when she grabs his hand and guides it towards your upper body.

“You two really have a volume problem,” she quips as she beckons you closer and wraps his hand around your delicate neck. She signals the hunter to squeeze, but he turns to you first in a wordless question. You nod, and Cara’s fingers leave his when he clasps them on the sides of your neck. You sigh.

She then takes your hand and guides it to the base of your lover’s manhood. You mimic the squeeze on your neck. Mando gasps.

The former Rebel leader pulls back to admire her work and—once she’s satisfies with it—leans back on her elbows and slithers a hand inside her pants. The couple is still fixed in position, waiting for an instruction.

“Go ahead,” Cara allows, as she pushes her underwear to the side and mixes the leftover cum on her fingers with her own.

She can tell you’re already exhausted, but you still make an effort to lift your dripping pussy and bear down until your lips hit your palm. She sees your knuckles go white as they clutch harder around Mando’s base. He does the same to your neck, still testing and careful. It’s not until a potentially loud whine threatens to leave you that he intuitively squeezes harder to stop it from touching the damp air. The stronger hold on you makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. It doesn’t take either of you very long to fall into a frantic and vulgar pace, much different from the leisurely one you were working with at the start of the night.

Cara knows you’re teased and tired of waiting and doesn’t expect you to last much longer, so she skips any foreplay with herself and goes straight for her own sensitive button, swiping it with a roughness that she didn’t dare apply on yours. The sensation makes her her legs shake. She goes harder. Within seconds, she’s breathless, just as desperate as you two to reach her release.

“Fuck—fuck her harder,” she orders the Mandalorian when a calloused finger draws quick circles around her clit.

You’re basically bouncing on him now, but the disciplined man still manages to obey. His grip on your neck turns to steel, as he clasps his free fingers on the fat of your backside and slams you down to meet his thrusts. Your mouth gapes open and, if not for the gloved fingers around you, Cara’s sure your screams would make the walls tremble. The lamp—almost out of oil—shines on the plump tears of satisfaction that slide down your cheeks and fall on your partner’s shirt.

Finally, an invisible force seems to shove you forwards into Mando’s chest. You’re still convulsing on top of him when he brings both hands to your lower back to fuck himself into you with all the stamina left in his system. Unfortunately, there’s nobody to grasp his throat when it spits out a long groan. Cara sees his arousal seep out of you.

She gives you a moment to breathe, then stands and rounds the collapsed bodies, kneeling in front of your legs. She taps your thigh, hoping you haven’t passed out yet.

“Open your legs for me, sweetheart. Let me see.” But you don’t respond, so Mando uses his remaining energy to push your legs apart for Cara’s enjoyment. His hands drop with a stump on your back, and she’s startled by the raucous snores that leave the helmet.

She shakes her head and mumbles to herself, “Maker, they can’t even sleep quietly.”

Her digits go back inside her underwear while she absorbs the way your pussy flutters and twitches around nothing, dripping with your cum and your beau’s seed. The sight and her fingers are enough to summon a strong but quiet orgasm from her. Her walls are still clenching and she’s trying to control her breathing when the oil lamp finally dies out.

Once again, Cara Dune is engulfed in darkness. This time around, though, her eyes have learned to adjust to it; she can make out the outline of your conjoined bodies. Tasting her fingers, she stands and walks to the exit.

Her arm is lifting the cloth that acts as a door when she glances back over her shoulder. You’re sleeping noisily, but peacefully, lost in each other. She wonders if she could ever allow herself to be that vulnerable with someone else.

Someday, she reflects, someday.

Outside the tent, Cara’s surprised she’s not met with a monsoon. She didn’t even notice when the rain stopped. She shrugs and continues on her short way to her hut, hoping to catch a few hours of sleep.

The sun is coming up on the horizon.

#the mandolarian #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian x you #cara dune #cara dune x reader #cara dune x you #smut #pedro pascal #gina carano #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin x you

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lovingmyselfcore · 4 years ago

Text

this is me trying in 3 acts

This is the longest fic I’ve ever written and published! This has been huge in my brain and now that it’s done I’m really proud of it :)

Act 1 is Asterin after her baby. Act 2 is Morrigan in Hewn City. Act 3 is both in mismatched scenes as they heal etc.

And shoutout to @the-love-yourself-journal who I very randomly updated on wordcounts and everything when I’ve been writing this

Act I; Asterin Blackbeak

I've been having a hard time adjusting

I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting

"You slept with a human man, you whore," She spat, "And you couldn't even give birth correctly."

"What?" The world around Asterin was hazy, and all she could feel was the relief of having her child out of her, but also fear for that same reason.

"You are pathetic,"

"What happened to my baby?"

"He was dead once he was born." A small witch Asterin didn't know murmured to her. Asterin felt her heart shatter.

"No, no, it cannot be true," She could barely get her words out, she choked over her sobs and words, like the pieces of her heart had lodged in her lungs.

If it was even possible, the world went even darker and hazier.

All she remembered after that was the smell of burning flesh and the Matron Blackbeak spitting insults at her, "Whore, filthy, broken, worthless,

Unclean.”

I didn't know if you'd care if I came back

I have a lot of regrets about that

"Asterin," Manon was staring at her with narrowed eyes. "Where did your mind go? I need you sharp."

Asterin apologized, trying her hardest to act like nothing was wrong. They all fell for it, and in a way, she hated them for it. She wanted to scream.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The Thirteen were camped out in a mountain on a mission from Manon's grandmother. They had to rise before dawn, so the other witches had retired early. Asterin, however, laid awake, thoughts and nightmares plaguing all her attempts at rest.

Nobody knew.

Nobody knew but Asterin and the Matron. Since what happened that witch that had broken the news was nowhere to be found. The Matron had probably disposed of the loose end.

Asterin pushed herself into an upright sitting position, looking around at the other witches, all asleep.

She had to be careful, they were trained to wake at a disturbance that could be antagonistic, so she had to maneuver carefully, taking her broom with her.

Pulled the car off the road to the lookout

Could've followed my fears all the way down

She wasn't sure how long she flew, but it wasn't very long.

She tossed her broom to the side and jogged up to the cliffside, falling to her knees.

Only a single tear escaped.

She looked over the side. It was quite a distance, meaning if she fell, it would likely be the end for Asterin Blackbeak.

At the bottom, she saw a figure walk out of the woods. Her shoulders tightened until she saw her hunter walking towards her cliff. He cradled a child carefully in his arms. They stopped directly under her. She couldn't hear him, but somehow she knew what he was saying.

"Come on, please. We miss you. We need you."

She leaned over the edge even farther, but she paused.

"Asterin!" She turned to find the source of the yell and saw Manon pushing her way through the crowd. Manon threw her arms around Asterin and buried her face in her neck. "Your grandmother?" Asterin asked softly, patting her cousin's back.

She felt Manon nod and led the girl into a sitting position on the floor.

She sniffed, smelling alcohol.

"So that's why you're being so physically affectionate," Asterin mumbled to herself, running her hands through Manon's hair.

When Manon's breathing deepened, Asterin lifted her into a nearby cot, knowing that Manon would tell her what happened with her grandmother if she wanted to.

~~~

“Hey, Asterin,” Faline and Fallon were both grinning at her, teeth sharp. Asterin was immediately on edge. The Demon Twins never smiled unless they were about to cause extreme bloodshed.

“Yes?” She asked carefully, never taking her eyes off of them. She had no idea what they were doing and what they had planned.

“Come with us,” Faline said, her voice like a silk noose.

“Why?”

“We noticed you’ve been off lately,” Fallon said, resting her hands on her hips where she knew knives were concealed.

“Have some fun with us!” Faline was at her shoulder now, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

Fallon was at her other shoulder, “We’re going to take our brooms and some knives,” She produced one, twirling it expertly in her hands before flipping it, handing it hilt-first to Asterin.

“And attack some people!” Faline finished with what sounded like a disturbing giggle.

Asterin took the knife warily and took a deep breath looking at both of them.

This was what they knew, she realized, they didn’t know what was wrong but

this was their way to fix it and she felt a piece of her heart warm.

“Why not?” Asterin conceded.

The twins had glee in their eyes that Asterin knew would never come out in any form of honest laughter, but she was okay with that. She loved these demonic weirdos.

~~~~~~~~~

Ghislaine was sitting in a small corner of the room. The fireplace was crackling next to her and she sat on the floor like it was a throne. Her back was straight, her feet tucked under her as she balanced a book precariously on her lap while she took a sip from a mug.

“Is that tea?” Asterin asked, knowing full well it wasn’t.

Ghislaine just grinned, her lips too red to be simple paint.

“Who’s?” She asked, keeping an eye on Ghislaine’s book - which looked ready to tumble into the fire.

Ghislaine shrugged, “I did not ask his name.”

Asterin nodded and the pair lapsed into silence. Ghislaine was just about to continue reading when Asterin broke the stillness.

“This is going to sound,” She hesitated. “Childish, perhaps. But, will you read me a story?”

Ghislaine stared at her, only showing a single flash of surprise. “Why?”

“It’s too quiet,” Asterin mumbled, gesturing to the window. The night was still and quiet, the hum of insects and birds had ended hours ago. Normally, Asterin fell asleep next to her window, comforted by the sounds of a never-ending storm, but not tonight. “I can’t fall asleep.”

Ghislaine was silent for long enough for a flush of humiliation to spread across Asterin’s cheeks, but finally, she gestured to the small cot in the corner of her room.

Asterin laid down wearily, but already her mind had begun settling.

Ghislaine gently brushed her hair back in an uncommon motherly gesture.

She curled up on the floor by Asterin and started reading her book. It was nothing Asterin understood but she had soon been soothed enough that her eyes grew too heavy to ignore.

Somehow, she knew Ghislaine would never share what happened that night unless Asterin allowed it.

Never.

~~~~~

Vesta was the witch Asterin was closest to, aside from Manon. They loved to wreak havoc together.

She would always match Asterin’s energy. If Asterin was quieter, more tired then they wouldn’t go out for as long as they normally would, if Vesta requested they go out at all.

If Asterin was ever hesitant, Vesta would never force her to do anything or question why she was hesitant.

On the other end of the spectrum, if Asterin was aggressive. If she wanted blood instead of harmless pranks on the coven, Vesta would oblige her and they would hunt down any man hurting anyone. And then they would rip him apart.

She wouldn’t question when Asterin flinched at the sight of a mother and her child, and then that would lead to a particularly bloody evening for them.

~~~~

Briar and Edda never talked to her but on days they suspected she wasn’t well they wouldn’t leap out at her in the way they would with everyone else. The two of them, witches who took their pleasure in scaring the others, would back off

Asterin if they observed her and felt that they should.

They would distract the others while Asterin snuck off to fly and cool down, or when Asterin’s breathing became irregular and she needed the attention taken away from her.

They’d never mention when she woke suddenly in the night and escaped through the shadows when they were on watch.

They never brought it up, and she loved them all the more for it.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Imogen and Linnea were never as close with Asterin but, same as the others they never questioned her on her weird behavior. They would often back her up in her constant struggle against Matron Blackbeak.

If they were at an encampment and either of them were on watch they would allow Asterin to take off into the night on her broom.

None of them would question her if they assumed it would make her uncomfortable. They helped her if they could, all of them.

She didn’t deserve their loyalty. Their love.

She didn’t deserve them.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Those women don't even know what your grandmother's done to you," She

heard her hunter's voice in her head again.

She looked down at them and let out a dry sob, "I'm sorry my loves but I'll join you eventually. Manon and the thirteen need me now."

She could almost see her hunter’s face. His broken expression, his mouth tight as if to stop himself from asking her one final time to join them. If it was really him, which Asterin doubted. She knew he understood. He didn’t like it.

But he understood she had to leave. She would see them again, someday.

Her voice was heavy and she was just tempted to leap off the cliff and not give it a second thought, but her coven's faces just kept appearing in front of her.

So, with heavy limbs and tears streaking down her face, she left her hunter and child once again.

~~~~~~~~~

And maybe I don't quite know what to say

But I'm here in your doorway

She jumped off her broom before her feet touched the ground, it was already dawn and she saw the thirteen spread out across the mountain, but not too far, apparently searching for her.

Vesta saw her first, relief apparent on her face, and she called out to the others.

Asterin clapped Vesta's hand and pulled each other close until they were touching foreheads. The rest of the thirteen did this with Asterin too, aside from Manon, who was standing with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Where were you." Her voice was gruff.

Asterin bowed her head, "I apologize,"

Although it wasn't an explanation Manon apparently thought it was good enough because she surged forward, pulling Asterin into an uncommon hug.

"Whatever you did, I hope you're okay now," Manon whispered.

I just wanted you to know

That this is me trying

Asterin's heart was still fractured, but she hoped that slowly she could heal, maybe not completely. Never completely. But enough.

Asterin pulled away, slinging one arm across Manon's shoulder, the other over Vesta. The others followed suit.

"We are the Thirteen, from now until the Darkness claims us," Asterin said, the echoes of the others not far behind.

She'd lost a family. But she wouldn't forget the one she still had.

I just wanted you to know

That this is me trying

Act II; Morrigan

They told me all of my cages were mental

"I just want you to be happy, sweetheart!"

"No! No, you don't! You want me to get married and have children and never do anything other than care for my kids! I want to be someone!"

"You have so much potential!"

"Yes, I do. I could be a legendary warrior, I could live my life the way I want to. But all you want is for me to rear children."

“I know you know that I am more powerful than anybody in this family.” Mor snarled at her mother. “I know it.”

Her mother raised her chin, her eyes going hard. A stark contrast to the previous desperate passion.

“You’re still a virgin. And you’re so powerful. It’s going to be very valuable for this family when your father and I find you a powerful suitor.”

Mor went silent, her mouth slightly gaped. “No. No. NO!”

Her mother didn’t flinch, in fact, she rolled her eyes. “Sit down, Morrigan. This is your duty.” When Mor didn’t sit her mother put her hands on her shoulders, digging her nails in enough to draw blood, and forced her to sit at the vanity.

Her mother grabbed her brush and roughly pulled through Mor’s hair. “You will make us proud, Morrigan. You will not be a disgrace.”

So I got wasted like all my potential

Mor knew she needed to get out but she couldn't. She couldn't and she hated it. She hated herself. She hated her father. She hated her mother. She hated the damn Court of Nightmares.

She curled into herself on her bed, fighting tears. They all wanted so much from her. So much that she couldn't give them. She couldn't wear the dresses she wanted, lest she tempts any of the men that aren't her husband.

Her breath came out in short gasps. She needed to be numb. She couldn’t do this alone.

She hunched over and let herself become smoke and shadow.

There was a party going on in the main room, everyone was drunk or high or otherwise distracted.

Mor allowed herself a small smile as she swiped a bottle of some of the strongest liquor she knew her father had. She winnowed back to her room and allowed herself a one-woman party, stripping down to her underwear. Destroying everything she could get away with, slamming her fists into the mirror. Tearing apart the dresses her mother forced her to wear. Throwing things against the wall hard enough they broke.

Needless to say, she downed the bottle quickly.

And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad

I have a lot of regrets about that

“It’s your seventeenth birthday,” Her mother said, brushing her hair into an intricate style. Her mother wasn’t looking at her but Mor was staring at her in the mirror. “Is there anything you want to do to celebrate?”

“No.” She said, her voice stiff and shoulders tense.

Her mother sighed and a flash of pain crossed her face before setting down the brush.

“Well. I’ll see you for dinner then.”

Mor nodded.

The night of her seventeenth birthday was the same as her other nights.

Sneak a bottle, strip down, destroy everything possible. Nothing different, the same mind-numbing act that made her believe, for only a short time, that she had some kind of control over life.

Only when she would wake up, would she remember she didn’t.

A few days later she jolted awake in her bed, sharp pains in her lower abdomen. She launched herself off the bed to see a small puddle of blood where she’d been laying.

A single trickle of blood made its way out from beneath her nightgown and down her leg, hitting the floor with deafening clarity.

“Oh, mother save me,” She whispered.

Suddenly the mountain seemed to shake, Mor lunged for her bed, gripping the frame as terrible convulsions wracked through her body. The world flashed white then went still as if nothing had happened, but Mor knew the truth.

Her true power had been awakened with such intensity the mountain shook.

The realization of what this all meant washed over her like cold water, dispiriting the excitement of holding such intense power.

“Oh, cauldron.” Tears streaked across her face. “I’ve bled.”

She sunk to her knees and buried her face in her hands. “I can get pregnant.”

I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere

Fell behind all my classmates and I ended up here

She stared at her hands. They were starting to tremble. She could see the tips of her fingers shaking.

“Eris Vanserra, he’s the oldest son of the Autumn Court. He’s going to be a wonderful investment for this family. Just like you will be for him.”

The rest of her fingers.

“You’re so powerful, Morrigan. And you are pure. You will be the perfect wife. Especially if before we hand you over that attitude of yours is fixed.”

Her palms and wrists.

“How long?” She heard herself ask. She was seated at the table, her food uneaten in front of her. Her hands rested in her lap. Modest as ever dress.

Hair styled exactly like her mother always styled it.

It started as a normal dinner until her father had told her they’d found a man with the highest price to offer for her.

It had been done. She’d been sold.

“Soon, Morrigan, soon.”

She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t. Mother above.

Eris Vanserra!

Mother above.

Her breathing came out in choked gasps, her chest was tight.

“With a few extra lessons,” Her mother said, imperious to her plight. “I can make into the perfect wife.”

“Do you know how many kids the lady of autumn had?” Mor asked softly. Her parents didn’t respond. Good. It was rhetorical. “Too many.”

“Too many,” She whispered to herself, rocking back and forth in her stiff, stone chair.

“You’re always so concerned about the children.” Her father spat. “It’s an honor to bear a High Lord’s child.”

“He might not even become High Lord.” Mor spat back.

Her father shoved away from the table and strode over to where she was. She braced herself seconds before his hand collided with her cheek.

He didn’t say anything else to her, just stood there, breathing heavily.

“Start those extra lessons immediately.” He snarled at her mother.

“Of course,” She said quietly.

Mor looked back at her hands.

Pourin' out my heart to a stranger

But I didn't pour the whiskey

“Mor?” Her cousin knocked on her bedroom door.

She threw it open and leaped into her arms. He gripped the doorframe to not fall over, wrapping his arms around her.

“Are you ready to go?” He asked softly.

She made an affirmative noise. She pulled away just enough to grab a bag with all she needed while they were in the mountains.

He wrapped an arm around her again and winnowed to the mountains.

“Thank you,” She whispered to the smoke. She didn’t think he would hear her but his arm tightened around her.

~~~

“Cass, Mor,”

Mor looked up at her cousin, her aunt, and Azriel next to him.

“It’s time for us to leave. Watch her, alright?” Rhys said to Cass, his face full of mock-seriousness.

Her aunt wrapped her arms around her and Mor felt herself melt. Rhys’ mom had always been more of a mother to Mor than her own was.

“You be careful.” Her aunt pulled away and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

The full meaning of that statement wasn’t lost on Mor.

“I’m trying my best,” She murmured back. Her aunt brought her in for another hug.

“I know, sweetheart. I know. You’re so strong. Keep fighting, okay? Always keep fighting.”

Rhys hugged her next and kissed the top of her head. “See you later, oh cousin of mine.” Mor laughed.

Azriel didn’t hug her, but he nodded in her direction and she smiled back. “All three of you come back alive, okay?”

When they were gone, Cass sat back down. “So,”

Mor sat next to him and raised her eyebrows. “What do you do for fun around here?”

A few hours later they were both sprawled haphazardly on the couch. He’d suggested they drink but she’d turned him down. Somewhere in her mind she already knew where this was going to end.

Mor was ranting to him about her problems with Eris, her father, her mother, and the entire court. And, in response, he was talking to her about what had happened to him to lead him to Az and Rhys.

When they had lapsed into silence a thought came up with Mor and she didn’t think it through before she spoke. “What if there was a way for me to escape being married to Eris?”

Cassian looked at her, intrigued.

“The only thing he wants-they want-that I have control over is my virginity.”

Understanding started to dawn in his eyes, “Morrigan, I’m not sure if-”

“Please, Cassian. Please.” Her voice was desperate now.

He looked at her. “You are just going to find someone else if I say no, aren’t you.”

She didn’t respond and he sighed.

“Well?” She asked finally.

“Come here.” He responded and she smiled, moving across the couch until she was on his lap.

He took her face in his hands, keeping her a distance from his face. “You’re completely sure about this.”

“Neither of us are drunk, Cassian. I’m completely clear-headed.”

That was all she needed to say.

I just wanted you to know

“Do you know what this is going to do, Cassian? Did you even think before jumping into my cousin’s pants?”

“It was completely consensual on both sides.” He said carefully.

“So? This is going to destroy her! This decision will cause much political scandal!”

“That’s all you care about? She is being forced into many things she doesn’t want to do, and all you care about is your political chess game.”

Rhys snarled a warning. “I am trying my damned best to help her. I love her.”

“You’ve sure got a bad way of showing it.”

Then all talking stopped and when Mor finally pushed her way out her cousin and Cass were fighting in the snow.

“Guys!” She called but she might as well have been yelling at a brick wall.

They didn’t stop.

For days, they didn’t stop.

They were at ends for so long, Az bouncing between them occasionally in arguments but mostly just looking tired.

“Please,” She whispered. They both looked up at her. “You two are brothers. Come on, I don’t want this to be the reason you two never speak again. Besides, what I do,” She glared at Rhys, “Is none of your business.”

They stared at each other. Rhys was the first to offer an olive branch. Cass grudgingly took it.

They talked animatedly for hours, working out why Rhys was so wound up about this, and very quickly began acting like they hadn’t been fighting at all.

Mor breathed a laugh as she watched them from her perch in the makeshift kitchen. They were brothers, and she was very glad she hadn’t caused the end to that. She knew her cousin needed him and from what she could tell, Cassian needed him just as much, if not more.

Later that evening the four of them (Mor, Cass, Az, and Rhys) were sitting in a circle on the floor, drinking and talking and laughing but a shadow hung over them all, putting a damper on the conversation. Mor had to go back to the Hewn City soon, and none of them were looking forward to it.

~~~~

Later, Mor was sitting on her bed in the cabin, fighting sleep. Falling asleep meant the new day would dawn sooner. Which meant she would have to leave. She was staring out the window, the reflection of the moonlight on the mountains should have taken her breath away but it was dampened by the sight of the tents which held the other Illyrian warriors camped out at this camp.

A gentle knock on her door startled her and she looked over at it with hesitance before remembering it couldn’t be her father.

“Come in,” She called.

Rhys pushed her door open and stared at her. She stared, unflinchingly, right back. He seemed awkward and uncomfortable in the doorway.

“I’m sorry.” He said finally

She didn’t respond but gestured him in.

He sat stiffly on her bed. “I know what you do isn’t my business. I know that. I do.”

She nodded her acknowledgment.

“I worry about you, Mor.” His voice was edging desperately. He wanted her to understand. “I love you and I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“Do you think Cassian will hurt me?”

He hesitated then shook his head, “Cass wouldn’t do that, I know that too. But everyone else might.” He whispered.

“I know, Rhys. But I can’t. I can’t get married and bear children to a man I don’t love. I can’t do that. That’s not who I am!” Her voice was rising above the necessary levels.

“I understand,” He murmured, tucking her into his side. “I do.”

“I love you too,” She whispered finally.

“You are too powerful and beautiful and smart to be contained. I will do anything I can to help you. I promise.”

She started crying and wrapped her arms tighter around him.

“I promise.”

That this is me trying

Mor and Eris were standing in the woods in the Autumn Court. She had her arms crossed over her chest, her braid whipping around behind her wildly.

Somehow Eris had found out about what Mor had done with Cassian, she had a feeling her cousin had reluctantly let it get around.

“I can’t.” Eris shook his head, backing away from her, “You’ve been ruined.”

Mor fought to keep her face impassive, and if she showed emotion she was miserable but her heartbeat quickened. She was so close. So close to her freedom.

“You’ve been sullied by a bastard-born lesser faerie.” Eris snarled, spitting into the dirt. “We can’t be married.”

Mor watched him carefully, she had no idea what he was going to do.

He shook his head, almost like he couldn’t believe it. “Why?”

Mor knew he wasn’t asking because he cared about their marriage, he only wanted to know why Cassian. Why an Illyrian. Honestly? She had no idea.

She stayed silent, raising her chin.

He rolled his eyes, “Right. Well. I break the union.”

And then he just walked away. He didn’t make sure she got home. Not like she wanted him to watch her winnow away but it was rude anyway.

She made a vulgar gesture at his back before leaving, grinning to herself.

He’d reacted so much better than she thought he would, then he could have reacted.

I just wanted you to know

Her mother hadn’t come to her rooms that morning, it was a serving girl who had helped her dress and was now braiding her hair. She’d known this servant for a long time. She’d grown up in the court, near Morrigan, and had been sent to assist her on many occasions. They weren’t close, necessarily but Mor felt she could talk to the girl.

Today her nimble fingers weaved through her blonde curls, her hands were steady, a stark contrast to her face which was bleached white. Her eyes were tracing the room as if she was scared something-or someone- would jump out and attack her.

“Should I be afraid?” Her voice broke the brittle silence.

The girl- Aine- didn’t stop her braiding but her lips moved though no sound came out.

“I’m not sure,” She said finally, “But I am scared for you, mistress.”

Mor’s fingers twitched, it wasn’t a great answer.

She finished with a small flourish and Mor stood. She looked herself over in the mirror, Aine fiddling with her hands behind her. Mor took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back, raising her chin. She had done this. She had saved herself from marriage and was now going to be facing consequences.

But she had freed herself from the terrorizing grip of Eris Vanserra.

Now she had her father to deal with.

~~~~~~

“Good luck, Mistress.” Aine’s voice echoed as Mor exited her room with a sinking feeling she wouldn’t be back.

When she entered the throne room, her mother and father were both waiting for her.

Her mother’s face was something she’d never seen from her before. It was more than the disappointment she had on her face when she found her only daughter hungover or sneaking out of the kitchen at night. It was a bone-chilling disappointment. The kind of disappointment that lingered for longer than an hour. She wasn’t disheveled, her mother had most likely never been disheveled a day in her life- but her shoulders were heavy, her eyes rimmed with dark circles and her fingers twitched from their place resting in her lap.

Her father, however, was more than disappointed. He was angry. His eyes were dark with a rage that chilled the room. He wasn’t sitting like her mother was, he was standing, hands clenched at his sides, feet planted into the ground as if he was seconds away from breaking into a run or spontaneously bursting into flames. Or both.

Morrigan froze in the doorway and they both looked her up and down, both of their gazes filled with something that definitely wasn’t good.

“You’ve disappointed us.” Her mother’s voice was calm. No, calm wasn’t the word to describe it. It was careful. Calculatingly undisturbed. Mor often forgot that her mother was Hewn City thorough-bred, she was manipulative. She was dangerous. “Are you sorry?”

“No,” Mor said after a pregnant silence. “No, I’m not sorry for wanting to live my own life.”

Keir laughed but it was filled with that same anger.

Her mother stood up, resting a hand on Keir’s arm briefly before walking over to Mor. She met her eyes but didn’t reach for her.

“Mom?” She asked, fighting to stop her voice from shaking.

She reached up and caressed Mor’s face before dropping it. Then she brought it back up so suddenly Mor didn’t have time to react as her mother’s hand met her cheek. Her head snapped sideways in response. “Mom,” Her voice was a whisper of agony.

Her mom shook her head in disgust. “You are not my daughter. Not since you whored yourself out to someone so lesser.” She stepped away from Mor, “You couldn’t have even done it with another high fae. You’re disgusting.”

“Mom.”

“How dare you. How dare you! My only daughter, disgracing herself and me and especially your father in the process. You’re so powerful, you could have had powerful sons.”

That spurred her into words, “I could have had powerful sons? Not that I could use my power, just pass it on to my sons.”

“Yes.”

“The fact that you see nothing wrong with that,” Mor said meeting her eyes again, “Is so wrong. I’m so sorry for you.”

Her mother made to slap her again but Mor was expecting it this time, catching her wrist.

Her mother yanked her hand away from her and walked back to Keir, she murmured, “Do what you will.” Then turned and left, not looking at her on her way out.

Keir walked across the room to her, taking her shoulders in a tight grip, “My wife doesn’t have the stomach to watch what I have to do to you.”

A curl of fear, “And what’s that?”

“I have to teach you a lesson.” His lip curled upwards in excitement that made Mor’s stomach churn. Stepping away and motioning for her to be restrained allowed for multiple of his best warriors to enter. She was good, but there were too many. She did land a few blows of her own but her power was untrained and wild so she had to rely on her physical capabilities alone. She thought she was winning, that she was going to make it out of this with only a few cuts and bruises when one surprised her. Her legs were swept out from under her, followed by a swift kick to the ribs

“And then,” He lifted one shoulder casually as his only child was restrained in a standing position. She wasn’t against a wall, allowing him to circle her, “If you survive what I must do to you, then you become Autumn’s problem.”

One of the warriors handed him a knife, and her hell began.

She prayed to the Cauldron for her to blackout, to not feel the pain her own father was inflicting, to not hear her own screams echoing, her own blood dripping onto the marble floor.

The Cauldron, apparently, wasn’t on her side.

That this is me trying

She wanted death. She hadn’t ever wished for death like she did right now. Part of her knew she was free now and celebrated that. However, the rational part of her. The part that currently felt the blood leaving every possible place in her body, knew that she wasn’t going to be ‘free’ for very long.

She shifted, almost imperceptibly, and felt the nails in her womb shift. She pressed her lips together to contain the pained groan that attempted to escape.

She dug her nails into the soft earth and scratched futilely. She didn’t know what she wanted to happen, her legs were numb so unless she could gather enough upper body strength there was no moving from this spot.

Her father hadn’t even had the gall to take her and dump her himself. He’d had some of his most trusted soldiers leave her at the border to the Autumn Court. As soon as they’d left and her heightened senses stopped being able to pick them up she’d allowed herself a single scream.

It had torn through her with enough force to make her entire body shake. She didn’t know if she was screaming from the blinding agony she was currently in or how quickly everyone she’d ever known turned on her with an undeniable eagerness that hurt to think about.

The damp earth around her fingers was all she could think about as her mind faded in and out of consciousness. The earth seemed to be getting damper and with a horrified whimper she knew why.

Her head, her neck, her upper arms. The cuts and injuries her father had inflicted on her. They were open. That seemed so obvious in hindsight. The soil wasn’t damp from the rain. Her blood was soaking into the ground, and fast.

Another whimper escaped her lips as she dug her hands in harder, attempting to pull herself somewhere.

She yanked herself along, the sounds of her shattered broken bones shifting made bile rise to her tongue. She couldn’t see, the pain so horrible it was not even registering in her mind but it was registering everywhere else.

She pulled and pulled, inching carefully along the grass, slick with what should be running through her veins.

The birds, undisturbed, chirping above her. What she would give to be up there with them, no worries, just a simple purpose, and a simpler life.

The tears running down her face made knowing the difference between what part of her was slick with blood and what part of her was slick with tears difficult.

“Morrigan.”

Hearing her own name, knowing she wasn’t alone here to die any longer made her cry out. But, when her brain finally recognized the voice, her smile died before it began.

Eris Vanserra crouched over her, running a slender finger down her torso, beginning at her neck until he reached the note. She saw him pause and read it.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, lips curling in distaste. “My problem?” He ran a hand through her bloody hair with enough mock-tenderness to make her shiver. “No.” He pulled his hand away, wiping it on seemingly the only patch of grass not wet with her blood.

When he stood up and walked away there was a single moment where he looked back at her, something like regret shining in his eyes and in the tightness of his lips. However, since the world started fading not a minute after, she chalked that up to her imagination.

At least I’m trying

She thought she was dead when she was picked up. She was numb all over, not feeling pain and unable to move any part of her. With more desperation and strength than she’d ever used she forced her eyes to open. She blinked quickly at the flash of light that sent shocks through her body.

“You’re free. You’re free.”

Azriel.

He seemed to recognize she couldn’t speak and cradled her closer, taking care to not bump the nails still embedded in her stomach.

“You’re out, Mor. We’re going home.”

You’re free.

Act III; The Finale

And it's hard to be at a party

When I feel like an open wound

Her cousin tried to fight her battle with her. Azriel, Cassian, and even Amren did the same. They all worked relentlessly to help her heal. She knew she had to fight her battles on her own. It was working, albeit slowly.

The group of them were stumbling down the streets during a calm night. The moonlight stretched through and reflected off the beautiful and colorful streets and buildings of Velaris. The gentle sound of the Sidra flowing sent calming waves through Mor.

The liquor in her stomach warmed her body which still confused her mind.

She’d been drinking at Rita’s with her cousin and the others this evening. In the beginning, she’d drank with them to not bring down the mood. She knew she wasn’t entirely fun to be around, not anymore or yet. But now she felt free if she didn’t stop to think much. Speaking of thinking, she was still able to do too much of it still. Rhys had an arm around her shoulder and she moved just enough to pluck the half-full bottle out of Amren’s hand. She felt Az’s eyes on her as she took a heavy swig out of the bottle and shuddered.

She flashed a small smile at him and he quickly looked away.

She took another drink before Cassian snatched it.

She didn’t know what they were talking about but she could tell she was responding. Her dress, red, low-cut, caught on her heels and the cobblestones and she flew forward. Rhys let out a startled laugh as he caught her and righted her.

She flinched then giggled drunkenly.

Amren reached over and tugged lightly on the strap of Mor’s dress. Mor thought she was going to scold her. To say she should’ve not worn such a slutty dress, she couldn’t have gotten that drunk. Stumbling was a sign of weakness. She was weak. All Amren said though was, “We need to smooth out this road, right Rhysand?”

Rhys laughed, “I’ll do my best.”

“Or you could just chop the bottom half of all your dresses off,” Cassian’s voice was slurred.

“Nope,” Az said simply.

Amren nodded her agreement, “The long dresses look amazing on her. She’s gotta keep them.” She grinned, all teeth.

Mor smiled up at the sky, the moon shining off her eyes and blonde hair like she was some kind of goddess.

She’d found her family.

A single tear whispered its way down her face and she wiped it quickly before the other noticed.

She loved these weirdo misfits, but despite that, she heard her mother whisper in the back of her mind. You may love them but they won’t stick around very long, you know that. You’ll disgrace yourself even more.

She reached for the bottle again.

It's hard to be anywhere these days

When all I want is you

When she was flying she was free. Flying with her coven, or flying alone, it didn’t matter. She was free.

The mountains were beautiful in the soft light of the dawn. She twisted through the snow-covered peaks. She was high above where anybody could see her and there, the young light warm on her face and the mountains at her sides she reached up and took her hair out of the braid she’d hurriedly threw it in not even an hour earlier.

Her hair whipped around her face, her movements throwing soft snow up from the peaks into her hair and face.

The contrasting temperatures and feelings were enough to clear her mind, she took a breath, deep enough to rattle her chest, and focused on the sensations. The ice and snow prickling her skin, and making her hair damp. The sun taking its daily trek through the sky and illuminating the snow with colors of orange and yellow and red. It was so early that even the bravest birds were asleep, and no lions or similar creatures were up this high. The silence was loud, filling her head with a warm buzzing sensation. She gripped the wood handle of her broom tightly attempting to focus solely on the feel of the wood beneath her calloused hands.

She failed miserably to say the least.

She leaned forward, bringing herself and her broom closer to the snow. She leaned down, running her hand through the smooth blanket, undisturbed by animals and humanoids alike.

It was so simple up here, so calm against the raging war constantly happening below. She wondered what it would be like to live a life like that.

If you’d stayed with him, you would know.

Him. Her hunter.

You would have raised your child, and he would have lived a life like this. Your reality wouldn’t be a constant power struggle between the witches and everyone else. Your reality wouldn’t be a permanent scar reminding you of your failure. Your reality wouldn’t be fighting to survive your own mind. Your reality wouldn't be so filled with people, yet so alone.

She allowed herself to slip off her broom into the welcoming pillow below her.

She lay still, listening to the silence of the dawn around her, and closed her eyes.

She was letting herself breathe, if only for a moment.

You're a flashback in a film reel

On the one screen in my town

The blade was a part of her, an extension of her pain. Her beliefs. In some ways, it was her. Following through on her desires, on her desperation. She had to help the humans. That was the only thought running through her brain. Slash, dodge, flip, stab, parry, disarm, kill.

She was a mindless machine, not allowing herself a flicker of doubt as she ended the lives of her own people. No. These weren’t her people. The only thing she had in common with them was being the same species.

The blades, the one in her hand and the ones strapped along her Illyrian armor, once gleamed gold in the dying light, now shone with blood. Fae blood.

She felt a warm liquid trickle down her face and wiped absent-mindedly with her upper arm.

Her senses were confused with the havoc around her but she focused, sending her mind through the throngs of people, fae and human alike. After moments of careful concentration, she found them.

Rhysand. Cassian. Azriel.

They were okay.

But she was about to not be.

She sensed the Spring Court foot soldier lunging just in time. She spun, winnowing for just long enough to appear behind him, snapping his neck.

She spared a glance around her seeing the bodies littered all over the field.

The blood ran like a river and her brain flashed to another moment where blood ran over soil.

She lifted a hand to her stomach absently.

Her ears twitched as she heard it. Screaming, human screaming.

She blindly called out to an Illyrian she passed by and paused only to see him nod in response. She took off, flying through the people, the soaring arrows and the sharp blades. It was one of them. One of the people on their side.

She lashed out frantically, dropping her sword and thrusting her hands through his chest. All the way through.

She looked down at the humans. Two of them, a father hunched over his daughter, as if protecting her.

She pulled him off of her, he was limp. Dead before she got there. The girl though, she looked to be about sixteen, her breaths coming out in short gasps, silent tears running down her face. The scratches and blood covering her proved she’d fought back.

Mor knew she had to get back to the battlefield but she kneeled anyway, pulling the girl closely against her. She gradually stopped shaking and pulled away. Looking Mor in the eye. She was afraid, but still, she looked at her unflinching. She’d just seen the barest example of what Mor could do but regardless she spoke. Her voice was hoarse, “You’re beautiful.” She ran her hands along Mor’s cheekbones carefully.

“I’m going to get you home,” Mor told her.

“I think I’m going to draw you.” She whispered.

Mor smiled, “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

The girl smiled brokenly, taking Mor’s face in her hands and pulling her close.

“Don’t stop fighting. You are a warrior princess.”

Mor smiled again, “So are you.”

The girl looked at her for a beat longer, as if checking her message got through. Finally, she broke away, tearing off into the woods.

As Mor sprinted the other direction, towards the battlefield she hoped that girl would live long enough to draw her.

Spoiler alert: She didn’t. Later, Mor found her. Her heart ripped clean out of her chest. Not even a mile from her father’s body.

And I just wanted you to know

That this is me trying (maybe I don't quite know what to say)

One day Rhys came home, his shoulders heavy, burdened by his new responsibility. Mor took a single look at him and knew. His mother and sister were dead. And he was now the High Lord of the Night Court.

She wrapped her arms around him and he fought so hard to not melt but it was only shortly after that he did, silent tears soaking through the sleeve of her dress.

Not long after she was named Rhysand’s third in command. She was third in command to the Night Court.

Sometimes, when the days got bad, she would run her hands all over her skin, where her father had cut her, where he nailed the note into her stomach. She felt unworthy, dirty. She was a slut, a whore, a monster. But then. Then she would remember a simple fact.

She outranked her father.

So she distracted and busied herself, focusing solely on her duties when she was required to go to Hewn City, not facing her father unless absolutely necessary. Her family fought hard with her and she finally worked up the courage to wear her favorite dresses when visiting Hewn City.

She’d always been scared to do it but when she finally did the look on her father's face and seeing her family get defensive on her behalf made it worth it. No, scratch that. Seeing herself stand up to him, knowing there was nothing he could do to hurt her? Worth more than every insult he spewed at her that night.

~~~~

Asterin had bad days. This was an undeniable fact, something she couldn’t outrun no matter how much she tried.

There were days where she would be incapacitated from the pain, doubled over at the idea and memories of her child, her hunter. She would trace her finger over the word engraved over her damaged womb and repeat it to herself.

“Unclean. Unclean. Unclean.”

But then she would hear her name being called. So she would pull her shirt down and go meet the thirteen for whatever adventure they were headed on.

She would take every possible opportunity to stand up to Matron Blackbeak, despite the consequences from Manon.

She would look that old bitch dead in the eyes as she did whatever it was. Asterin would make sure she understood. She understood that this wasn’t completely about whatever trivial offense she’d committed. This was about the pain the matron had put her through. Had put what had to be countless witches before her (and possibly after) through.

She would curse, spit, even attempted a slap once or twice but it never made her feel powerful, or strong because it never stuck. The Matron was still in complete control, and Manon wouldn’t fight back against the Matron, never anything to upset the scales at least.

I just wanted you to know

She was healed. Not completely, she doubted she would ever be rid of the lingering trauma lovingly gifted to her by Hewn City. By her father, more specifically. But every time she put on one of her favorite dresses, she didn’t hear her mother’s voice in the back of her head.

She partied at Rita’s without inhibition, drinking as much as she wanted, spending her nights with whoever she wanted. She had control over her magic, she could fight (and she could fight really well, ask Cassian), and she loved herself. Meals were always filled with laughter and witty banter, something that before Velaris she’d never known. She had hit her peak in life, she had never been happier.

Mor fastened the jewelry to her pointed ears, smiling at herself in the mirror.

“Mor!” Cassian’s voice carried up the stairs. “Hurry up, I’m hungry!”

“Poor baby!” She called back.

“Stop taking your sweet time and get your ass down here!”

“Don’t talk about a lady’s ass, you heathen.” That was Amren. Mor couldn’t stop her very unladylike snort.

She heard vague crashing noises and then Rhys’ voice called, “Mor, you know I’m all for spending time on appearances but please before the entire Night Court gets destroyed because Cassian pissed Amren off.”

She couldn’t see them but from the noises, she could assume Rhys had Cassian by the arms and Azriel had placed himself in front of Amren, both of them fighting to stop the carnage.

She ran her fingers through her hair before backing away from her vanity and sauntering out of her bedroom.

She was right, her family was in a stand-off in the sitting room.

“Come on, you uncontrollable monsters.” She pushed her way to the front of them, met with grumbles from Cassian and Rhysand.

After dinner they were walking the streets of Velaris, stumbling along the bank of the Sidra.

“Morrigan?” A small voice asked. They all turned to see a girl, who must have been only five, standing there. She looked nervous as all hell and clutched between grubby hands was a white rose. She held it out to Mor who crouched to be eye-level with the girl.

“This is for you,” She whispered, her voice barely audible above the rush of the Sidra.

Mor’s heart warmed and she took the rose, and with painstaking care, she tucked it into her hair, “Thank you, sweetheart. What’s your name?”

“Beline,” She tucked her hands behind her, face red from the attention Mor was giving her. “I want to be like you when I grow up.”

“I have a feeling that you’re going to be better, Beline.”

A woman’s voice called Beline’s name. “Is that your mother?”

Beline nodded.

“Well, I guess you’d better run home, honey. Thank you very much for the flower, I’ll treasure it forever.” She swore, a hand over her heart.

Beline went crimson and giggled before racing off in the direction of her mother’s voice.

Mor did keep that flower, she dried it out and pressed it between the pages of her favorite novel that was always on her dresser. She was glad she had a reminder of that evening. The last peaceful and happy evening she would have for fifty years because it was very shortly after that everything went to hell.

~~~~~

Asterin grinned at Vesta, teeth sharp and bloody. Vesta grinned right back. She heard other coven members cackle behind her, and Asterin knew their grins were just as bloody.

Asterin threw her arms out with a laugh, her nails were caked with blood and dirt and who knows what else.

The Thirteen were standing in a field, ankle-deep in remains. A trickle of blood made its way down Asterin’s cheek.

Manon was picking her way through the piles of bodies toward her.

“Gods, that was fun!” Vesta exclaimed.

Asterin spun to see the other members of the coven. Thea and Kaya were shoulder to shoulder, talking in low tones, they weren’t grinning or cackling like the others but their eyes were shining.

Ghislaine was shoving her way through the bodies and looking distastefully at the blood covering her clothes.

Faline and Fallon were crouched over a few fresher bodies and when they looked up at Asterin, their chins and teeth were coated in blood, their grins were maniacal.

Imogen was wiping the blood from her face, Linnea was picking what looked like skin from her teeth, and Briar and Edda were kicking and prodding the bodies, making sure they were dead.

Manon finally reached Asterin’s side and threw an arm over her shoulder. She licked her lips, surveying the bloody field. “This was fun, but you know we have a lot of concerns back home. My grandmother’s pissed at us for something.”

Asterin looked at her and sighed, “Yeah. But come on, Manon. Live a little! Enjoy this!” She swept her arms out wildly.

Finally, a grin broke across her face, “We did good.”

“Hell yeah, we did!”

The two of them were standing at the top of the hill together, washed in moonlight and blood, watching the coven below them.

“This one’s still alive!” Briar shrieked.

“Live a little, Manon,” Asterin repeated. Manon grinned at her then shoved away and sprinted down the hill.

That this is me trying

Mor opened the library door with her hip, holding two mugs tightly in her hands.

Feyre Archeron was sitting in an armchair that seemed to be swallowing her whole. She had her arms crossed over her stomach and ribs, hunched over painfully.

Mor made her steps louder to not completely scare the girl who looked like at the slightest disturbance she would disappear.

Feyre didn’t move at Mor’s entrance but her ears twitched and her nose flared slightly.

She felt herself smile and catch her breath, Feyre wasn’t afraid of her. She knew it was Mor and she hadn’t gotten defensive at her entrance. That was all she and Rhys wanted. They wanted her to know she could trust them.

She lowered herself into the chair next to Feyre, setting one of the mugs on the coffee table in front of her. Only after Mor had relaxed into the chair and taken a sip did Feyre straighten, just slightly, and reached with shaky, emaciated hands for the mug.

They sat in comfortable silence, snowflakes fluttering outside the window in the dark, watching the fireplace crackle and spark with life. The only light in the room.

She was determined to help this girl, even if it killed her.

~~~

Asterin hung back, watching Elide Lochan carefully.

The girl held a laundry basket against her hip, keeping her weight off her bad ankle with a skill that came with years of practice. That idea sent a jolt of protective anger through Asterin. If he didn’t get what was coming to him soon, Asterin was going to give it to him.

Elide was talking in low tones to another servant girl. After they resolved the conversation Elide smiled kindly to the girl and walked off to take her basket where it needed to be.

She was about to walk up the stairs when something made her stiffen and turn. She scanned the corridor until her eyes landed on Asterin, who was half-hidden behind a column.

Elide visibly relaxed and smiled. The look in her eyes was so uncommon to be directed at an Ironteeth witch that Asterin’s breath caught.

She was so relaxed with them, she knew she was safe with them and that was what caused a smile to bloom across her face.

Surprise flashed in little Elide’s eyes and they stood there, watching each other until, “Elide! I need that dirty laundry!”

Elide called up the stairs, “Of course, I’m coming!”

Elide nodded at Asterin, still smiling, and walked up the stairs out of sight.

It was a small moment in time, fleeting compared to the centuries Asterin had lived through and insignificant when compared to what was going to happen, but that moment stuck with her.

She was going to protect that girl, even if it killed her.

At least I’m trying

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