#triple s generation | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

razzle-n-dazzle · 9 months ago

Note

Yandere headcanons for any character of your choosing? I loved the Adam ones !

ᯓ★ General YANDERE! Headcanons (triple threat!) Angel Dust / Reader, Mammon / Reader, Vox / Reader TW! If you don't like this type of content please scroll away: Dark romance, Romanizes Yandere(s), stalking, drugs, alcohol, mention of (sexual) abuse, toxic relationship at the start (Mammon), gaslighting, murder, weird ex behavior (Vox), accusations of incest (didn't happen, Vox), manipulation (Vox), kidnapping, forced love/relationship, emotional manipulation.

ᯓ It was the moment that you started treating Angel Dust as Anthony, not just a play-thing or a fuck buddy or a guy to do crack or get wasted with, just plain, pure Anthony, that anything really stirred in him.

ᯓ He had seen you around the street a few times, never really talked to you yet just always managed to point you out from the crowd. He never knew why, nor did he understand why you, another Sinner just trying to live your own life in this hell-pit, always stuck out to him like a sore thumb anytime he was near your vicinity. It wasn't until he actually spoke to your first in the hotel that he realized why; You weren't a bitch, you didn't act like everyone else in hell and it was odd.

ᯓ It was like you were a toned down version of Charlie, still bubbly like her and very much being able to keep up if need be, yet you were quiet and kept to yourself; Speaking only when spoken to, or when need be, and even then your voice carried this honey sweetness Angel only expected in the voice of, well, angels. "Oh, hello, Angel!" Was your first words to him. And they strangely held no malice, irreverence, or flirtatious tone, not even undertone; They were just plan and simply, and slightly sweet, and was just a greeting. He wouldn't realize how you friend spoke to him would stick into his head later that night, nor that starting that conversation with you would change his life so much. After all, with a new resident at the hotel, who happened to be at bar at the same time as Angel, was nothing to be note worthy or right home about. There was only one bar at the hotel, and it was kind of used as the main common room even if there were couches.

ᯓ Yet you made it rememberable. And you always made your interactions with Anthony after that rememberable.

ᯓ Yandere! Angel is more Anthony than Angel speaking, thinking, feeling, at least most of the time; Because it was Anthony you had made an impression on that night, not Angel. It was Anthony you had captured the heart of truly and wholly, leaving no room for competition by completely devouring his attention and infecting his mind with your sunny smile and sweetened voice. His mind, from that day on, was captured by you and your everything. Even when trying to be Angel, trying to be that perfect Porn Star everyone knows him to be, as soon as you capture his attention it's like he can't think. All he can see is you, all he can smell is you, all his thoughts are consumed and eaten by your presence. By your soft touches and your words and just by you. In his eyes, you're perfect.

ᯓ He wants to be both be you and be with you at once.

ᯓ He wanted your sweet nature, which still left room to let you stand up for yourself. He craved to have your gentle touch, not soiled by his line of infiltrating, disgusting, consuming work. He yearned for your body, to both be plush and flushed against his hands and yet also for your body to be his. He wanted you. He wanted your being, your soul, your everything. He wanted your trust and your kindness, even if he felt he didn't deserve it. He wanted to keep you to himself and shield away from what he was, who he was, and who he worked for.

ᯓ He wanted to love you and for you to love him.

ᯓ During your first few months of being friends, and maybe even after, Anthony made it a point to try and talk to you whenever he could. He also made it a point to scroll endlessly through your Instagram, Twitter, and any other form of social media in Hell that you had and he could get his hands on. He slowly began to learn who you were friends with, where your favorite food joints where, where you liked to hang out, your style of clothes, and if you had family down in Hell. Anthony get's so absorbed in having you in his life that something in the back of brain slowly began to justify his stalkerish actions, even encouraged it when he felt disgusted doing so before. 'They're posting this for all of Hell to see', 'You're just trying to learn more about them to be better friends', 'Other people would do this too, you're not doing anything wrong', 'They might like it'.

ᯓ Though he wouldn't let you know he does this. He wouldn't want to creep or freak you out, that would just drive you away, and he couldn't bare not having a day where he got to see your face or hear your voice. And he also wouldn't be able to handle it if you began to look at him with shame and fear. Oh, he would never want to hurt you like that.

ᯓ He would never want to hurt you, ever; Nor would he want, or let, anyone else hurt you.

ᯓ He needed to keep you away from Valentino and Angel Dust. Anthony knew you loved him, at least to some sort of extent, yet he didn't know if you would love Angel Dust; A porn star who's had his private parts flashed all over hell and has done every kinky shit that could be thought up of. And oh, Valentino, if he ever caught wind that Anthony Angel Dust was dating some sinner, he would be pissed. Either going out for you directly or going after Angel himself, and while he could take the abuse, especially if it meant saving you the pain, he would not put you through that shit.

ᯓ He would keep you close, made sure you felt protected and safe and loved, yet far enough to never entangle you in his fucked up work world.

ᯓ Yandere! Anthony, who adores any sort of non-sexual physical contact between the two of you, even if it takes him a moment to get comfortable with. Forgiving and forgetting old, and active, habits were hard, and yet you waited for him, you held patience and understanding for his background. It just made him fall even more madly in love with you.

ᯓ Yandere! Anthony, who may or may not have killed a few sinners for even daring to try and touch you (thinking you were a porn star just like Angel) just because you associated with him.

ᯓ Anthony, who will receive a phone call from you while doing a shoot for Val and try his best to answer right away, even if it meant facing repercussions. He just couldn't bare thinking about the possibility that you could be in trouble and missing that call, just to find out you were ordering coffee and forgot his order; But if it had been the latter, he would never forgive himself. Plus, while being plowed into by a few dozen guys, he always craves to hear your voice. It's like a breath of fresh air he needs to keep going.

ᯓ Anthony, who's able to put up with Val's requests and wants because he knows he gets to return to the hotel to see you, and your smiling face and feel you pepper sweet kisses into his cheeks if he wanted. Maybe even cuddle up against you, listening to your rhythmed breathing as you took care of his aches and pains. As you gave him the after care he didn't know he so desperately needed until know.

ᯓ Anthony, who didn't know how jealous he could get until he noticed you started hanging around a certain person a lot more; Or maybe that person wanted to start hanging around you a lot more. Either way, even if he had worked that tag, he constantly asked to tag along. And when you weren't looking, he would shoot glares and threats at the sinner who dared try and steal his lover; He would keep this up for as long as it took for the sinner to get the message and leave you along. And when you started to realize that friend was distancing themselves from you, he would swoop in and call him an asshole and that you deserved better friends. All the while he cupped your cheeks, squishing your face together, and peppered a kiss in between your eyebrows to quell the pain you felt.

ᯓ Anthony who is nothing short but a soft Yandere, who simply just wants you all for himself. You were too good to be faced out there with all the creeps and the weirdos of the world; And while he might not fully deserve you, you seemed to have picked him and he'll make sure your after life if the best experience of your life.

ᯓ "You cannot be in love with- with that two-timing, bitch ass face, Mammon! Don't you see what he's doing to you?!" Where some of the last words you ever heard from your long time friend before effectively cutting them off; Because it's what you thought best at the time. It's what Mammon told you was best at the time, claiming they were simply jealous and wanted to end your perfect relationship with him. It would be the last words from any sort of 'reason' you would ever heard, words trying to help but you knew they didn't understand. And that wasn't from Mammon's reasoning, nor his infection in your brain, nor his overpowering stance that easily made you tremble and obey.

ᯓ It was by your own thoughts, your own judgement that you had passed from dating Mammon ever since the day he killed your lover; Hanging them up on stage for everyone to see, a wide, psychopathic grin on his face before he turned to you, asking for your hand in marriage.

ᯓ And you had been afraid of him, afraid of death, when you had agreed all those years ago. He was a Sin, a Prince of Hell, and that made his power greatly out way yours. You had been afraid of the reproductions of you had said no, even if you truly had held no love or even care for Mammon at that time; The fear of his power pushed you to agree.

ᯓ Mammon, who had been spying on you since they day you came into his Ring of Greed, without your knowledge. Had always held a fascination about you, and the way you consumed and toyed with his mind, making him feel like you were worth than any amount of money or gold in the world. Which was ridiculous, as he knew for a fact you wouldn't be worth much, even if he did make you a marketable sex toy. Fizz? He was worth money, he was worth time, he was worth so much more than you and yet... when Mammon looked at you, heard your laughter, saw your smile and the way you just lived your life, you were suddenly worth more than anything he could get his grimy, greedy hands on.

ᯓ You became all he wanted to get his greedy hands on; And when Mammon wants something, he will get it, even if it meant he had to use force. So killing a Lover, that was something he was willing to do if it meant you would love him. Surely you could look past that and love him all the same!

ᯓ At first, you were like Mammon's little play thing. Sure, he loved you deep to his core, so much so it terrified you cold, but he could tell you didn't love him back. Not yet. So he showed you all the reasons you should love him over your past Lover, even if he knew they couldn't play this fun little game right back: He would take you out on the town, made sure you were dressed in the most expensive and flashing and tight fitting clothes in all of the nine rings! He took you to expensive restaurants, on fancy excursions, and basically became like a sugar daddy just to prove himself. All the while also acting like a body guard, stabbing anyone with one of his many spider-like legs if they dared get to close to either of you. He would buy you fancy gifts, he would show you luxurious nights in bed, he would even introduce you to the other Sins as his lover to solidify your place.

ᯓ All he needed was your love! And you should have just gave it to him from the start!... but, playing this little game is fun too. Even though he was making sure it would be temporary.

ᯓ To say you were too scared to leave Mammon at first was would be an understatement; You were blood-cold terrified.

ᯓ Yet, little did you know that the influence you had in Mammon's brain was greater than you or him had ever thought. Now, Mammon knew will you were constantly on his brain, that he was constantly seeking for you in every room, that he was drunk off your presence along and that he never wanted you to leave his side! Hell, he would have killed you if you ever tried!... at first.

ᯓ Though there's a weird thing that happens when you're both deeply in love with someone and around them all the time, not allowing them to venture far from your side. Something that is so extraordinary that it can't be completely summed up or explained in words. It's like, you slowly start realizing how to love. That was the best word to describe it as. It's something that wasn't caught on at first, something that slowly inched it's way in and changed the way you and Mammon functioned together. And it was weird but wonderful all at the same time. Where Mammon only cared about showing and flashing you off, he slowly started to notice what you did and didn't like to eat. At first he brushed it off, but soon found himself ordering your favorite meal from any choice restaurant when you weren't with him, which is a rare occasion, just to taste it. Just to remind him of you. Then it turned into appreciation, small but encroaching. Whether he would notice the small things you do in the background, even if you didn't fully love him, which made his life a whole lot easier; Which made Fizz a whole lot happier, which made him a whole lot more money. How you always knew what he wanted and needed after a long day, how you fetched it for him just because he looked tired. Just because it was nice. And all these slow baby steps, of learning how to love and not yearn for someone, changed you both for the better. More so Mammon than you.

ᯓ Think of your relationship now more like Gomez and Morticia Addams; In a weird, still fucked up way.

ᯓ Mammon didn't exactly worship the ground you walked on, but he did worship you a lot more than before. Always having you in front row seats at his show, or if he was judging sat upon his lap like a Princess. In which would leave him to his own greedy, grimy thoughts and before you knew you, small peppers up your arm turned to kisses on the neck, and then Mammon having you straddle his waist as he took the air from your lungs; Kissing you with all the greed of the world, yet passion as well. He was hungry for you.

ᯓ He was starving.

ᯓ He was both possessive, largely so, and protective of you. You were not let outside the house without Mammon or some sort of guard, not that he trusted them entirely. While he didn't want you to get hurt, or damaged, he also didn't want your body to be on display for other eyes if he wasn't there. Your body was all his, and while people can gawk at it and stare all they want, he will be right there snickering and sneering at them. He will always be there.

ᯓ He is big on PDA, big on showing everyone who you belong do, big on showing you off, big on making sure people knew no one could touch you as long as he was here, big on making everyone know you were kid... but Big on making sure you were happy too. Even if he is an asshole and loved to make sexist jokes or laugh at and with you at the most inappropriate times or say he's going to make a sex doll of you because it would turn in such a profit!- (Which he would never, your body, especially the best fucking part, was only his.) -He still cares enough to care about you and your happiness.

ᯓ He's a douche, but a loveable douche; You just might need to teach him some proper manners, or else all your clothes might as well be covered from the blood of every sinner in Hell.

ᯓ You actually used to date Vox, used to be seated right next to him in his TV programs, helping run his show behind the scenes, helping him with his frustrations; Basically, being an unpaid worker and doing it all just because you knew it helped Vox. It made his day less stressful, it allowed him to relax. Sure he could have been overbearing at times, a little possessive even around the V's, yet he was generally a good lover and you enjoyed his company.

ᯓ Yet you had to put your foot down and end your relationship with him due to this possessive attitude. You had found it cute at first, though when he went as far as to threaten and stalk one of your siblings, because he thought they were way too close to you, you couldn't handle it. Even more so when he tried to gaslight you, basically shouting out: "No sibling should EVER be that fucking close to each other! He was fucking touching you, and I'm not going to fucking stand for it, you hear me?" And he had never shouted at you before, even while frustrated. So it had taken you aback a little, even more so when you say how his eyes widened, how a twisted grin strung itself on his face. He wasn't Vox; He wasn't your Vox. "So it's either ME or THEM. Pick wisely here." This wasn't the Vox you had fallen in love with. The charming man who was chivalrous, who had an award winning smile, who made you swoon and laugh, who you could talk to for hours even if he ranted about everything that annoyed him during the day. This wasn't him, he wouldn't be grabbing your face as he was now, harsh and indenting, basically breaking skin and causing you to bleed on his hands. Staring at you with a crazed look, making you choose between him and your family, making accusations that your siblings had incestual interested in you! "You're crazy." The words left you winded, like all the air had been knocked out of your lungs in one sad attempt to voice yourself. A sad attempt it was indeed, and you knew that as soon as Vox let out a growl and forcefully shoved your head to the side, effectively knocking you down to the floor. This wasn't him, the thought continued to swirl around your head as your body scrapped across the polished floor. As you shook a hand out, attempting to crawl away from Vox, attempted to escape anything else he might through your way to let him cool down by himself. Yet, a pain yell was the only reward of that fruitless effort of yours from Vox slamming and digging his foot into the middle of your back. Tears prickled in your eyes, a choked out sob, as you could barely make out the glitched words that spewed out of Vox's mouth.

ᯓ "What the FUCK did you just say to me, bitch?!"

ᯓ Safe to say your family and friends had to get involved, had to help you sneak out in the middle of the night and place you under protection. You knew better than to forgive Vox after something like that, his act completely and utterly broke all the trust you had for him; And if he hit you once, he would hit you again. So you stayed far away from The V's corner of the Pride ring, far, far away; And slowly you started the process of healing, of learning how to do life without Vox at your side, of learning how to not be afraid he might turn up, of learning how to live again.

ᯓ You didn't realize how much he had drained you mentally and physically over the course of your relationship, as it was all hidden as acts and gestures of love; Of nights alone, cuddling in the dead of night while no one else knew. Of drinking glasses of wine, watching some late night program or ranting about your shitty lives. Of hanging out with the rest of the V's and of going out with Vox and feeling like you were on top of the world!

ᯓ And slowly you started to feel safe again, after months and months had past with no Vox, you started to go outside with more confidence and by your own; You ventured and you saw and you thought you were safe. Vox couldn't hurt you any longer, Vox had no more control over you, Vox didn't care about you anymore so why should you care about him! He can go suck some power Overlord's cock and get his power through the people he keeps around him. He can go fuck off because you didn't need him anymore.

ᯓ But, oh, Vox needed you.

ᯓ And you didn't know, you couldn't know, that he's been tracking every step you took outside your home; Silently listening to all your conversations, silently always being there, inches away from you, foaming at the mouth with the idea of having you again. Yet waiting. Always waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And now you're alone, and you're unnoticed in a crowd of sinners, and you're in perfect range...

ᯓ And you'll be his soon enough.

ᯓ You don't remember much after heading into that store. You don't even remember leaving it. In fact, you didn't remember much, and any events that happened after you had entered that store kind of blurred together in a hasty mist. All you could remember is that you had gone in, attempting to find a new camera or laptop for your sibling; Who had been just crawling up your ass, bugging you about the latest technology that had came out and how it would do wonders for their career... that and you knew they just wanted a new laptop or camera, even though theirs worked perfectly fine. And yet, you cannot remember if you even managed to get to the camera or laptop section before everything god mudded and hazed.

ᯓ "Well, fuck me in the ass, you're awake!" And then an all too familiar voice rang out in the room, which you hadn't taken to notice you were in. A room, your eyes shot up to take it in, that was unmistakably familiar; A bedroom. His bedroom; Where you were tied in on a plush chair, where he had made his way over to you. Where he now, grabbing the arm rests of the chair, leaned tauntingly over your smalling frame, with that crazed smile. Oh that smile, one that used to live in your dreams, first welcomed and then hauntingly. That smile that made you coward down and away, paired with those crazed, piercing eyes. "No no," Vox would then coo, reaching his clawed hands up to cup your cheeks. His actions were gentle and sweet, like he was holding a glass vase that could be destroyed even with the slightest pressure added down onto it. "Hey, hey, look at me. I'm not going to hurt you... look at me, Darling."

ᯓ And yet you didn't meet Vox's eyes, you couldn't, and instead Vox would helplessly watch as you cowered away from him and flinching at his honeyed touch; As you feared him. Feared.. HIM! The one man who has silently killed everyone who had crossed your path, everyone who had made you uncomfortable, everyone who dared tried to through anything your fucking way he killed them all! For you...

ᯓ AND YOU DARED FUCKING COWER AWAY FROM HIM LIKE HE WOULD HURT YOU?!

ᯓ "I SAID FUCKING LOOK AT ME!" Snapped Vox as a sudden, sharp, pain stabbed into your cheek, causing you to choke out in pain, as Vox forcefully snapped your neck towards him; Forcing you to look him directly in the eye. You saw the way his left eye was wide open, swirling black lines around his pupil. That crazed look, it painted his face, and yet something inside of you was coaxing you that it was okay. That he was crazy because he cared, because he loved you, because he wanted you to be safe...

ᯓ Because he was sorry.

ᯓ The voice was strong, it pounded against your head even as you knew logically it wasn't that; None of what that invading, creeping, engulfing voice said true! Vox wasn't sorry for his actions, he never would be, he was, and is, boiling and pissed and controlling. He was a man who got what he wanted when he wanted because he forced it that way. And yet, the voice was so coaxing and sweet... And you watched though a fuzzy mind as Vox slowly kneeled down in front of your chair. Where you even tied up anymore? You could barely tell. Gently, his hands slid down your face, the blood cascading down with them, as he felt your figure against his hands once more. And slowly, gently, still staring up at you, he took your hands in his. He played with something cold, solid, against your hand, a wedding ring, silently twirling it around your finger as a honeyed smiled sunk onto his lips, "Honey, sweetie," His voice started, glitching out slightly before leveling back out, "I'm so, so sorry for scaring you. Really, I didn't mean to hurt you, I was just frustrated and upset-" There was a break in his speech, allowing for a chuckle to slip through, "-and we both know I can get unreasonable when I'm upset. I promise, it won't happen again, Darling, so.. come back home, please."

ᯓ Something in the back of your head was trying to shout and claw it's way through, trying to break through the skin and flesh of your brain and bleed out it's words and thoughts. Yet it never came to fruition, as the thought past by like a cloud drifting off in the wind from a flutter in your chest. A grin seeping onto your face, "Vox.." You would mumble, tone sweet and loving and forgiving; forgetting; Forgetting what he had put you through, the pain and the suffering you had to bear alone. Forgetting how he plastered your face on TV screens for weeks on end, bashing you to all of the Pride Ring to hear. Forgetting how he had cracked your spine all those months ago. Forgetting, not forgiving. "...I'm sorry for leaving in the first place."

ᯓ And in that moment, Vox knew something you didn't know: He, had, won. You were his, sure under the power of his little mind control, but you were his again and he was yours. And no one, and nothing, is going to ever take you away from him ever again.

ᯓ He'll make sure of it. You wouldn't miss your family anyways, you wouldn't even remember them!

Home | Masterlist

ᯓ★ All posts/fanfictions posted under this blog is owned by @razzle-n-dazzle. Please do not steal, copy, or plagiarize the works! Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated.

754 notes · View notes

shinsocest · 11 months ago

Text

No. 001

Notes: first of many reuploads, fave of personal faves ♡ commission for @kailali from once upon a time ♡♡♡

7.7k

warnings: stepcest, marking, piercings, creampies, fem reader, reader is lifted, degradation & praise, oral (both), multiple orgasms, hard s*x soft feelings

It had been a long day.

You sigh and let your bag fall to the entry floor as you toe off your shoes. As the only quirkless member of the Todoroki family you never had a shot at hero work, but that never meant you had no interest in the hero industry. You finally made it into your preferred field a few months ago, a new hire at your stepmother’s ex’s agency in their crisis management department. Whenever a hero or sidekick makes a mistake or a villain causes too much damage before they’re apprehended, you’re behind the scenes doing as much as you can to fix the lives of those affected.

All in all… paperwork is a bitch.

An irritated puff expels through your nose as you nearly trip over an extra pair of shoes in the foyer, but your irritation dispels when you lay eyes on a worn pair of charcoal converse. You sigh.

“Touya?” you call out as you pad down the hall.

“Living room.” His voice is tired, a sleep laden rasp in his throat.

You sweep through the open kitchen, drop your keys on the counter, and make your way to the living room. You lean in the doorway when you catch sight of him sprawled out on your couch, half under one of the softer throws your stepmom got you for Christmas a couple years ago. The light from the tv bathes him in a silver sheen, highlighting his jet-black hair and glinting off the triple helix on his ear, the gift you’d gotten him for his last birthday.

Touya shifts a little more upright as you come into his line of sight and reaches for the lamp on the side table. The soft yellow light helps, makes him look warmer. The picturesque tattoos of burning hemlock dancing up his forearms and disappearing under his shirt look more lively, and you can see the smile on his face as he looks at you.

But he still looks tired.

“Long day?”

You scoff and then laugh a little, your shoulders sagging as you slouch over to the couch. He opens the blanket in invitation and you crawl in beside him, sighing as he wraps an arm around you, your head dropping onto his shoulder.

“Yeah,” you mumble softly, sighing again as he kisses the top of your head. You return the kiss with one to the side of his neck, your lips pressing to the inky vines winding down his throat. “You?”

“Yeah,” he mutters. His voice is a comfortable rumble against your back. “Somethin’ like that.”

Touya uses your apartment as a personal hideout, ever since you leased the place. At his age he's expected to be living on his own by now, but Rei has a soft spot for her eldest son and won't push him out of the nest. Since he promised you he wouldn't argue with your father, he ends up at your place more often than not. Your dad is the type to be optimistic, encouraging, and stern, and Touya doesn't have the best track record with nurturing authority types—or authority figures in general really—given how strict Endeavor was when it came to raising his children.

He squints at the screen as if just noticing it was on. "Movie's comin' on. Wanna watch it with me?"

"Sure. I think I wanted to see this one, but let me change first."

A short trip to your room is enough to shed your office clothes and slip into a tank top and sleep shorts before you're back in his arms, wiggling until you're comfortable and he’s grumbling at you to settle the fuck down.

It may seem odd from the outside looking in to be this close, but it's always been this way with your step-siblings. Natuso and Fuyumi were the middle children, working hard on their futures when your parents hit it off, so it made sense that the eldest and youngest were the ones who latched onto you the hardest.

Shoto was polite in the beginning—earnest, really—and before long he was looking to you for approval even after he graduated from Yuuei. Touya saw you as another little sibling to look after, in his own way. From the moment you’d moved in, it felt like he was doing his best to make sure there was a place in their family where you fit. You always got the sense it was because he felt like an outlier himself. You were just happy to be accepted, and you adored them both, all of them of course.

Barely halfway through the movie, Touya shifts and his hand slides around to your stomach to hold you more comfortably. It makes you warm, dangerously so.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t enjoy how touchy-feely Touya always is, and he always seems to be seeking physical comfort from you. He holds your hand when he walks you to the store, always needs a hug before he leaves, and if he doesn't get a kiss on his cheek before he’s out the door, he will pout at you (aka lots of snark and rolled eyes) until you give in.

“You’re shifting a lot tonight, doll. You good?” Touya hums behind you, sounding distracted and you realize you’d been rubbing yourself back against his—

“Sorry!” you whisper, face flaming.

“Don’t worry about it.” After a minute he mutters under his breath about how warm you are. “Don’t tell me you’re my real sister after all, 's like you're on fire.”

“We can take the blanket off—”

“Nah, ‘m fuckin’ freezing, feels good. My hands are cold, can I?”

“You fucker!” you yelp as he pushes his palms under your shirt, his hands like ice on your skin. His smirk is almost tangible behind you as he reprimands you for squirming when he’s doing his best to battle the sudden chill.

“Keep still, would ya?”

You try to kick his shins but he outmaneuvers you, pinning your legs under his own. He chuckles under his breath as the two of you scuffle for a couple moments, tugging you closer until you give up with an exaggerated huff.

“You good now? You’re missing the movie.”

You grumble as you settle, but your heart still races.

During your half-hearted wrestling attempt it had been easy to miss, but now that you’re relaxed into him again you’re becoming aware of the way Touya is heating up behind you. His palm is nearly searing the skin on your navel now, but you’re too distracted by what’s unmistakably digging into your back at the moment.

You know you’re not supposed to get a flutter of anticipation, but it shudders up your spine anyways. Every now and then his hips rock forward like he can’t help himself, and every time they do, that telltale heat building hot and impatient beneath your skin grows.

His fingers are playing with your waistband like they have so many times before. You’re holding your breath as he dips a little lower than usual and you find yourself wondering, telling yourself you’re not hoping for it…but is this the night he’s finally going to cross the line he’s spent so much time dancing around?

You’ve always known. This dance has been happening for a while. You’ve noticed the way he looks at you, and holds you too close, and you feel guilty knowing just how much you enjoy the attention. He always seems to hold himself back though, neither one of you truly acknowledging the heightening desire that builds in the dark.

Your gasp feels loud when his hand firmly slides into your panties—long fingers toying with the apex of your mound, a breath away from the bundle of nerves that feels like a live current desperate for a trigger—but it’s barely more than a tense inhale.

Touya’s lips are almost on your ear, his breath hot as his words push both of you towards an uncharted precipice.

“This okay?”

You know that this is the moment to turn back. If you say something now, he’ll remove his hand and go back to watching the movie.

Your heart pounds rapidly as you think, but something heated and needy coils tight in you. If you deny him now, would he ever have the courage to come after you again? Displeasure rises bitterly at the thought of him distancing himself from you. You want him. Maybe you’ve always wanted him.

“Mhm,” you manage, breathing just a little too hard to be casual, and you feel his grin against your neck.

“That’s my girl.”

Hot pleasure sparks beneath your skin at his words, but it’s nothing compared to the electric shock as his fingers slip between your embarrassingly wet folds.

“That’s my slut,” Touya groans sharply, his tone low and laced with thinly veiled desire. “Do you know how wet you are? I always knew you were a needy little thing.”

You whine as he parts your folds, tracing over your hole and up to your clit. It’s almost twitching with the desire to be touched, white hot and wanting. “Touya, please.”

“Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to hear that,” he mumbles, tongue pressing to your neck, kissing and biting at the sensitive skin there as he obliges you. You moan breathily and uncontrolled as he circles the bud delicately, again and again. “You sound so good sayin’ my name like that, doll.”

He’s rocking his hips into you steadily now, grinding against your back.

Heat and frustration is building steadily as your step-sibling continues to play with you, and you realize that he is quite literally playing with you—switching between the way he touches your clit, moving from circling it gently to tapping it, rolling it between his fingers.

Touya knows to be thorough, to find out exactly what you like, to make this unforgettable. He’s listening and paying close attention to the way you react to his every touch. Every now and then slender fingers slide down and he presses a digit or two into your soaked cunt, now dripping obscenely, curling them lazily as he searches for what makes your body sing.

Even with his lazy movements, you can feel something coiling tight inside you. Whatever this is between you, it's been too long coming, your hips jerking as pleasure threatens to undo you. But before you can be taken apart, Touya slips his fingers from your waistband.

You whine at the loss, whipping your head towards him only for him to grasp your chin and pull you closer, his tongue prying your lips apart and delving inside. His fingers are still slick from your juices, gripping your chin tighter as he shifts you under him, supporting his weight on one arm as he kisses you like this is his last chance to.

You don’t have the coherency to tell him it’s not, dizzy with want by the time he pulls back. His sapphire eyes darken when you wrap a leg around his hips to instinctively keep him close, his lips glistening in the flickering light of the tv.

“Tell me you want this.” He stares down at you intently, holding your gaze as he waits for your admission.

There’s no point in denying it anymore. Of course you do.

“I want you.”

Touya grabs at your thigh curled around him and pushes it off, smirking at your pout as he sits back on the couch. “‘S cute, but don’t make that face. Strip all that off, and c’mere.”

You all but scramble as he pats his lap, pulling your shirt over your head and bra following quickly, equal parts pleased and embarrassed when you see the way his gaze is locked on you, trailing down your exposed skin. As you slip the last of your clothing down your legs and step out of it you look at him, confused when he just sits there watching you.

“Aren’t you gonna…” you trail off, eyebrows furrowing.

Touya perks an eyebrow at you. “Didn’t I say c’mere? We were watchin’ a movie, weren’t we?”

His voice is too light, and you know that tone. He’s up to something, but big brother Touya is always up to something. And he always gets his way. So instead of questioning him again, you do what he wants and you settle into his lap, only making a small noise of complaint when he faces you away from him.

He clicks his teeth. “Don’t be a brat now, you were being such a good girl earlier.”

“You’re not being fair,” you mumble, squirming. “Why’m I the only one naked?”

“Cause you’re prettier than me.” He’s teasing and you know it.

Your protest is cut off as he yanks you back against his chest and cups your breasts, slender fingers pulling at your nipples and rolling them.

“Fuck!”

“My cute little whore has such a dirty mouth,” Touya purrs in your ear. “Just sit still. Lemme touch.”

You try, you really do. He kneads at your breasts, smoothes his hands down your body, exploring you languidly. It’s impossible.

“Touya—” you break off with a squeak as he bites your shoulder in reprimand. “Hey!”

Touya laves his tongue over the stinging mark and coos. “Aw did that hurt?”

“A little…”

“Want my cock to make it better?”

You suck in a breath. It comes out of his mouth like a sweet invitation, but there’s just enough insecurity in his cocky tone for you to hear (that only you could hear) that you know he’s uncertain of your answer. His heart is pounding against your back, further betraying his underlying anxiety.

Not one to torture your loved ones, you squirm back on him. “Make it better, Touya. Make me feel better.”

“Say it,” he demands, turning your head to look at him.

Blue eyes glare down at you desperately, searching for any hint that you’re playing him. You’re quick to douse the flames of doubt.

“Fuck me,” you whine. “I want your cock.”

“Shit,” Touya breathes, flopping back against the couch, hiking you further up his lap so he can reach the button of his jeans and pop it open.

You moan at the feeling of something warm and hard sliding between your thighs as he shifts you back into place, before spreading your legs over his own.

"Eyes on the movie, doll," Touya rasps, teasing your slit with the head of his cock. "You wanted to watch it, remember?"

You wanted the chance to see him, the disappointment welling in your chest evaporating as quickly as it appears at the feel of him pushing the head in and out of your soaking heat.

"What about you?" Your last word cuts off in a gasp as he pushes into you fully, his girth spreading you open.

"Was never watchin’ the movie," he breathes, a groan hitching in his throat as the walls of your cunt squeezes him in a vice grip.

It feels different, and not just taboo different.

"Touya, what's that?" You moan as something—several cool to the touch somethings—rub against the front wall of your pussy, making your toes curl as pleasure bolts from nerve to nerve.

“I’ll show you later,” he groans impatiently, his hands fumbling on your hips to hold you still. “J-just, fuck— Lay back, would you?”

You comply, and Touya sinks lower on the couch, his feet on the floor to give him the leverage to fuck into you, each stroke slow and languid. Pleasure courses through your veins, hot and sticky, your eyes pinching closed as you focus on the feel of him.

He’s so long and wonderfully girthy—just enough to feel stretched, the fat head of his cock touching deep every time he sinks into you—but you can’t get over the scrape of those…god, what are those?

You can’t think, your moans splitting the thick air of the living room, legs quivering under his touch as he smooths his palms along your spread thighs. You’re both lost in a loop of exhilaration and long awaited satisfaction, your hips jerking into his every time he sinks in deep and grinds.

His teeth meet your shoulder again, digging into the same grooves he left behind before. Your thoughts are sluggish beyond the haze of pleasure but it feels like he’s marking you, leaving something of himself behind. The thought chases away the sharp sting, winds a sudden coil in your gut, and you suck in a breath as something white flashes behind your eyelids.

“Touya!”

“Yeah, I feel it,” Touya moans behind you—moans, and the sound of it has you clenching around him hard, forcing a choked groan from his lips. “Fuck yeah, doll. Keep squeezin’ my cock like that. Perfect little slut, touch yourself for me.”

With shaky hands you begin to circle your own clit, lightly, the added stimulation threatening to unravel you right now, but you don’t want this to end. Not yet. It feels so good; whines and broken iterations of his name are all you feel capable of.

“Tell me how it feels.” There’s a desperate edge in his voice now, tight with desire and something else, something that sets you alight from head to toe.

“It feels so good! So warm, ‘m gonna—” It’s a borderline sob now, with you feeling as if you’re dangling on the edge of something dangerous. You’re almost scared of the blooming sparks in your belly, but you wretchedly race towards them anyways.

Touya’s thrusts grow a little frenzied, the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you loud in your ears. He’s panting, his groans ragged, barely holding on himself.

“Tell me you love me.”

His voice is rough, but so impossibly tender—needy. Your mind short circuits at the sound, pleasure igniting in your belly and your hand reaches back to tangle in his hair as you fall apart.

Touya groans, one hand tight on your hip as you spasm around his cock, his other reaching around to replace yours, gently circling your clit to help you ride out your orgasm.

“Touya! I love you, Touya—oh, god!”

Touya stiffens and shudders as pleasure melts the base of his spine, zipping up along it, pressing his forehead to your shoulder as he spills inside you with a low whimper. “F-fuck—”

You both sag into the couch, chests heaving as you wind down from your respective highs. You squirm at the feeling of him softening in you before he grumbles something unintelligible and pulls you down onto your side with him.

His heart races against your back as he pushes a pillow into place—letting you use his arm as one yourself—and you wonder if he can feel the way yours is threatening to beat out of your chest.

He’s still pressed stubbornly close to you, the rough edge of his jeans pressing into the back of your thighs as he tries to stay buried in your pussy for as long as he can, but he still remains silent behind you, his breath hot on your neck.

“I love you, Touya.”

You say it again, softly this time. You want him to hear it when you’re not swimming in pleasure; you want him to hear just how much you mean it.

Touya hums, a low contented sound. “Always knew ya did.”

He sounds like he always does, snarky, but there’s a warmth in his voice that betrays his happiness.

“So what now?”

“Now we finish your damn movie, and then you need a shower. You’re kinda a mess right now,” he purrs devilishly in your ear, making you shiver even as a new bolt of heat strikes down your spine.

“And then?” You moan as he finally slips out of you, cheeks heating at the feel of his cum spilling out between your thighs.

Touya reaches a hand between your legs, lazily sliding his fingers through the mess. “And then I fuck you the way I really wanted to. I need to see the face you make when I make you cum. Hope you know I’m not usually this sweet ‘nd gentle, right? Think you can take it?”

“So you were just being nice to me?” you tease gently, pushing your ass back towards him. “Do you think I’m that delicate?”

“You better not be.”

“Try me.”

A low groan pulls from his throat and Touya bundles you off the couch. You scramble to your feet before you can fall, and turn to look at him.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, sapphire eyes dark and blown, desire etched into the hard lines on his face. His jeans are low on his hips and he tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the couch.

Your eyes trace over the garden of ink on his torso, a swirling mass of flames and flowers that you’ve spent plenty of time admiring in the past. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, used to Touya lounging around the house in the warmer months in nothing but a pair of shorts, but with the darky, needy look in his eyes as he prowls towards you… It’s different now. He’s not stripping to get comfortable.

Anticipation thrills up your spine.

“Shower, now,” Touya rasps, herding you down the hallways towards your room. “And I better not catch you whinin’ cause I ain’t stoppin’ ‘til I’m through with you.”

Sunlight pours through the small gap of your bedroom blinds, but that’s not what wakes you. You’re far too used to it for that. You’re not sure what it is exactly that has you blinking awake.

Maybe it has something to do with the arm wrapped around your waist, or the thigh curled over your own. It could be the mild soreness between your legs, or possibly the stinging sensation of multiple bite marks across your body, courtesy of the perpetrator currently lightly snoring into your shoulder.

You gently turn over, detangling yourself from his limbs as quietly as possible. Touya has always been a somewhat heavy sleeper, so it’s not like it’s hard; but he really isn't a good morning person, so the last thing you want to do is wake him.

He mumbles something and flips onto his stomach, not waking for a moment.

You gaze at him for a moment, eyes soft. His hair is a mess, inky strands sprawled across the section of his face not buried in the pillow. After smoothing the wayward tresses covering his eyes, you sit up slowly, your gaze drawn to the ink twisting up his back. Your fingers trace the lines with quiet reverence.

It really is beautiful; you know it took Touya a long time to get it all done. The hemlock on his forearms drooping and smoking from the surrounding flame turn to vines as they spread out up his biceps, shoulders, and throat. You know on his front the vines swirl throughout a meadow of baby’s breath and gladioli down his collarbone and chest, but on his back they weave around a breathtaking lotus that’s shedding its petals one by one, the ones that fall gathering in a pile at the dip of his spine.

“Ya done starin’?”

You jump as he rolls onto his side to smirk at you, eyes droopy and tired. Touya chuckles at your expression and tugs you to his chest, giving a low groan as he tries to get comfortable again.

“Touya, wait—”

“Just go back to sleep, alright? It’s still fuckin’ early,” he mumbles gruffly, closing his eyes.

But your eyes are wide open, filled with panic. “I said wait, Touya!” you hiss desperately, struggling in his hold to sit back up.

You can feel the heat of mortification storming across your body as you maintain eye contact with the youngest Todoroki, who’s standing silently in the doorway of your bedroom.

His two-tone eyes are unreadable, but you know your younger brother well enough by now to know that the slight pull of his eyebrows means he’s shocked, that the miniscule purse of his lips means he’s upset.

Not that you can blame him. Walking in on your step-sister naked in bed with your older brother is not exactly prime model behavior.

“S-shoto,” you whisper, pitched and panicked. “I, uh…”

Oh, god, there’s no good way to explain this. You’re frozen, too petrified to even shield your body from his hard stare. You’re covered in bites and bruises, hair a mess and you can almost feel your relationship with Shoto shattering to dust when Touya groans dramatically and shoves his face in the pillow.

“Seriously, Shoto, your timing is fuckin’ awful. It’s too goddamn early for this. Try again later.”

Shoto glares at his brother and you can only gape at him as he drops his bag in the doorway and sits on the edge of your bed, right by your side. “You’re too impatient, nii-san. We agreed that we were going to wait.”

“Plans change.” Touya’s words are still muffled into the pillow, resiliently clinging to the notion that sleep is not yet lost. “Snooze ‘nd you lose.”

“Wait, what?”

Shoto doesn’t answer your question, a pout forming on his lips as he traces the teeth marks on your shoulder with a gentle touch. He doesn’t miss the slight wince of your expression; Touya had marked that same spot several times over last night.

“He was so rough with you,” Shoto says softly. “I would have been gentle.”

Touya snorts and raises his head. “Fuck off, I was gentle. …the first time.”

Shoto rolls his eyes. “Kinda hard to believe when she’s covered in teeth marks.”

You’re too busy reeling to take much notice of their bickering.

It’s Shoto; straight-laced, kind, upstanding Shoto. The Todoroki family’s shining star. Why isn’t he telling you how sick this is, and demanding to know what you were thinking crossing the bounds of family in such a forbidden manner?

Shoto notices your rising agitation and murmurs something soothing, trying to catch your attention by cradling your face in his palms. His eyebrows furrow gently at the sight of your quickly welling tears.

“We love you.” He says it simply, like that’s all there is to know.

Touya sits up swiftly since he obviously isn’t going to get to go back to sleep, and croons at you as he kisses the back of your neck, “Want us to prove it, doll?”

Shoto glares at his brother over your shoulder, unimpressed. “You already got to be with her.”

“And I’m gonna have her again. If you want her at all you’re gonna learn how to fuckin’ share, little brother.”

Why didn’t you see it all before?

Shoto has always clung to you. He was almost as desperate for your attention as Touya right from the start. He always insisted you help him study, even when you were certain he knew the material already; he would ask you to cook dinner with him on his nights.

When he graduated he insisted you visit him every weekend so you wouldn’t drift apart; it was him who suggested his father’s agency for your internship, where he debuted as a hero a few years ago. He even wrote your recommendation letter. He would always swing by in the morning with your coffee order, and without fail walked you to your car every night.

His love just wasn’t as obvious, at least not to you. His hugs were quick, like he didn’t want to be touched; his kisses might as well have been ghostlike, like he couldn’t handle being that close. You always thought he was just copying his big brother, but out of obligation, not desire.

“You love me?” You whisper the words looking at Shoto, but the question is for both of them.

"Of course—"

“Don’t be stupid, doll,” Touya mumbles, cutting him off and sucking another bruise into a miraculously unmarked portion of your neck. “‘Course we do.”

Shoto quietly brushes a stray tear from the apple of your cheeks, his lips following soon after. They’re warm, soft against your skin.

He smiles.

“You weren’t around when we were growing up, so it’s not obvious to you how much we’ve changed for the better since you joined our family. I can’t imagine the person I’d be right now if it weren’t for the way I feel about you.”

“Shoto…”

Shoto pulls back, his smile still warming his face, but smaller, calmer. “Especially Touya. I think if it weren’t for you, he would have left us a long time ago. Our father wasn’t…well, you brought him back.”

You stiffen in surprise, and Touya grumbles under his breath, trying to cover his embarrassment with coarseness. “Brat. Don’t go spoutin’ that shit now.”

Shoto makes a low huff of amusement before tugging you out of the eldest’s arms, ignoring Touya’s growl of protest.

“Let me have you to myself for just a minute,” Shoto breathes.

And then he’s kissing you. His touch is so sweet and he’s so warm that you can’t help but melt into him. No part of him is shying away from you now as he pushes himself between your legs, strong arms guiding you back down to the bed.

He’s unyielding as his tongue traces the seam of your lips, a heady desperation fueling him that you can’t help but get swept up in, parting your lips for him with a breathy moan. Shoto hums, his tongue meeting yours tentatively until your fingers curl into the collar of his shirt and tug him closer, and he crumbles. The kiss grows wet, fervent, your head swimming as he refuses to relent, content to taste you even as your legs curl around his waist, spelling your impatience.

“Calm down,” he mumbles against your lips, giving you a small break as he nips gently at your neck, his tongue soothing the bite marks decorating your throat. “There’s no need to rush any of this.”

“I don’t want to wait.” You gasp as his lips move lower, sucking and kissing at your collarbone, down the valley of your breasts, down your navel. Sparks follow the trail he’s making, down to where he stops, his eyes staring in disapproval of more bites scattered across the insides of your thighs.

His eyes are sharp as they look to you then Touya when your head falls back onto your pillows, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Is there no part of her you left untouched?”

Shoto glares at him, but Touya stares back, both smug and aroused.

“Nope.”

“You’re an animal.”

“She liked it.”

“Oh my god, stop talking!” you whine, forearms still covering your face. Excitement and arousal is making your body hot and you’re desperate for Shoto to keep going, but you know they could bicker forever. You’ve seen it plenty of times.

His mismatched eyes soften as they flash back to you, and he leans to pull your arms down. When he’s satisfied you’re watching him he continues, pressing his lips to the juncture where your thighs meet your mound.

Your chest feels tight with anticipation as his fingers grope at your thighs, kneading the plush flesh before sliding around to cup your ass. You moan when he inhales the scent of your growing arousal before his tongue peeks out to part your folds, flattening and dragging up through your slit. As he reaches the bundle of nerves at the top, he retreats, blowing on the nub lightly. Shoto’s head swims at the sound of your whine, so he does it again, desperate to hear you make that sound again.

Shoto’s fingers dig into the swell of your ass as he groans and pulls you closer, his tongue delving into your dripping cunt and lapping at your juices. You’re propped on your forearms, watching him with hazy eyes as he tastes you, your chest heaving at the assault of sensations.

He’s gentler than Touya, but that doesn’t make it any less intense. Your fingers grip the sheets tightly as he slurps at your cunt, his tongue blistering on your slit as he draws it up to flick over your swollen clit. You keen when he seals his lips around it and sucks, the touch hot and wet.

The sloppy sounds of him savoring you make your body ignite, your arousal spilling onto the sheets even though you haven’t cum. You’re desperate to, but Shoto’s movements are slow and deliberate—you can tell he’s nowhere near finished.

Teal and brown eyes are not quite closed but far-seeing, as if he’s lost in something—in you. The sight of it tightens something in you, has your shaking fingers reaching for him until they tangle in the crimson strands of his left side. Shoto’s groan devolves into a whine as you tug him closer, the vibrations of his noises making your eyes roll back. The younger Todoroki doesn’t resist your grasp, he leans into it, his tongue moving deeper, more desperate.

You make a noise of approval, your hips jumping when his fingers slip into you, prodding at your walls until your legs snap closed around his cheeks. He looks drunk cushioned between your thighs, the wet sounds and his moans melding together and making your mind melt.

“Fuckin’ shit,” Touya rasps beside you, on his knees now as his fingers form a tight ring around the head of his cock.

Your head turns to him, moaning when he shuffles towards you and presses the head of his cock against your lips.

“Open up, doll. You’re killin’ me, sound so good like that.”

With a soft whimper, you part your lips and he feeds his cock into your mouth with a relieved sigh. As he pushes deeper you drag your tongue over each metal bar on the underside of his cock, gentle with the balled ends, counting five as they push deeper.

Last night in the shower Touya finally let you have a look, grinning at your wide eyed expression as you carefully brushed your fingers along his Jacob's ladder. He’d hissed under his breath as you nudged the last set, the lorum at the base of his shaft.

“Easy, that one’s new.”

That’s what you’re reaching for now as his fingers thread through your hair, his groans rough as he pulls you deeper onto his cock, your tongue swirling at the furthermost metal beads. You preen as he curses at the wet touch of your tongue ghosting the edge of his balls.

Touya pulls out slowly before thrusting back into your mouth; you’re trying your best not to gag, swallowing rapidly as his head touches the back of your throat.

“That’s a good slut,” Touya hisses, holding your head flush to his pelvis. His cock throbs at the feel of your throat closing around him, his head tossing back. “Pay attention to me.”

You whimper around Touya’s cock as Shoto gives a harsh suck on your clit, uncharacteristic of his attentions so far, and your watery gaze flicks downward to see Shoto leveling a heated stare at his brother again.

Touya takes notice, a lopsided grin spreading across his face as leers back at his little brother. “What, don’t like me calling it like it is? She really is a good little whore for me, you know. You should’ve heard the way she screamed for me last night.”

You moan around his length as one of Touya’s hands closes around your neglected breasts, his fingers pulling at the hardened nubs to hear the desperate sounds you make as he rocks in and out of your mouth.

“You shouldn’t call her that,” Shoto mumbles, his eyes glazed as he watches you writhe under his brother’s touch. His chin and cheeks are smeared with your arousal. The beginning beads of sweat have his hair sticking to his forehead.

Touya shrugs.

“She seems fine with it. Hasn’t complained.” He eases out of your throat and watches you inhale sharply, taking in the much needed oxygen.

“Still.”

The younger one sits up and slides off the bed, a smile tugging at his lips at your whine of protest. Shoto pulls his shirt over his head, ruffling his hair and dropping it to your floor before popping the button of his jeans, hooking his thumbs in the waistband to push them off.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve only just started,” Shoto breathes, returning to the bed with a new fire in his eyes.

You inhale shakily at the sight of him exposed, the rippling muscle a sharp contrast to Touya’s lean figure. The eldest is healthy, and in no way out of shape, but Shoto’s strict training regimen has his body in peak physical condition.

There’s clean white and pink scars littering his chest from his escapades as a hero, but it does nothing to take away from his beauty. As he steps closer to you, your eyes trail downward to his pelvis where his cock bobs between his legs looking painfully hard, the pretty pink tip drooling. Your eyes widen; it looks heavy, thick, unable to bear its own weight and leaning to the left. At the base is a well-kept patch of hair that matches his split coloration just like the rest of his body hair.

As if sensing your trepidation at his brother’s size, Touya narrows his eyes and rests back on his haunches so you can take a moment to get adjusted. Shoto pulls you to the edge of the bed, spreading your thighs and standing between them as his hungry stare roves over your glistening cunt before snapping up to meet your gaze. He slides his length between your dripping folds and takes in a harsh breath at the feel of you.

His voice is soft, a light tremble to it the only tell of his nerves. “Do you want me to use a—”

“No,” you mumble shyly, fighting the urge to cover your face as his cheeks pinken at your immediate denial. “I wanna feel you, Sho’.”

“Okay,” he returns, sounding dazed. “Okay.”

Shoto drags the thick head of his cock through your juices again, lubricating himself fully before pressing himself against your fluttering hole, completely focused on the way you respond as he eases himself into your warmth.

You moan loudly at the immediate stretch, head thrown back as he slowly enters you. His eyebrows furrow at your tight heat, and he groans lowly in his chest as he coaches himself internally not to just hilt himself in you.

A strangled sound works its way up both your throats as he drags his hips back and pushes in again, trying to work himself deeper.

“Sho,” you gasp, fingers digging into the sheets as he sinks another inch into you, your eyes screwing shut. He’s so thick you don’t understand it. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s overwhelming, fighting the urge to let your eyes roll back into your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” Shoto chokes out, gripping your thighs tightly to ground himself. “So tight, so perfect. Feels like you’re made for me.”

“Holy fuck.” The words come from Touya, and you barely register the slick sound as the eldest slowly works his fist over his cock. Sapphire eyes lock on to where your drooling cunt is struggling to accommodate even two thirds of his younger brother’s cock.

You can feel yourself getting more desperate, wanting to ground yourself to something, but there’s nothing to hold onto.

Touya eyes the way your chest heaves, goosebumps rising on his skin at the hiccuping mewls you keep making. With an amused huff, he drops his cock and shifts closer until he’s sitting at your side. Shoto glares at him as he gets closer gripping your thighs possessively, but the heat falls short, the feeling of your slick walls too much.

“Just keep going,” Touya mutters gruffly, staring down at your trembling figure as opposed to making eye contact with his little brother. “You should be doin’ this yourself, but as much as I like watchin’ her squirm, she likes it when I touch her.”

His slender fingers trace over your mound before his thumb presses into your throbbing clit.

“F-fuck!” you warble out as heat strikes low in your belly, and Shoto echoes you with a groan as your cunt flutters around him as if trying to suck him deeper.

“There’s that dirty mouth,” Touya coos, voice dripping with playful condescension. He rubs slow, soothing circles around your clit, his eyes almost predatory with hunger. “That feel better? Bet you’re soaking now. Want him to just shove it in you, hmm?”

“Y-yes, yes!” you whine, teary eyes flickering from Touya to Shoto, desperate, pleading. “Want more, Shoto, please. Deeper!”

Shoto shakes at the pure need in your tone, his thighs tensing as his cock throbs. “Shit, sweetheart. Are you sure?”

“Please!”

“You heard her.” Touya retracts his hand, sucking the traces of your arousal off his fingers as he retreats further onto the bed.

Shoto barely hears him, adjusting his grip so that he’s holding your hips as he firmly fucks himself deeper. The gape of your lips, the tears clinging to your lashes: that’s all he can see as he’s finally seated in your pussy. It feels like the heat of you is going to melt him. He groans as you wrap your thighs around his waist and leans down to capture your lips.

You’re taking him like it’s nothing now, your tits pressed against his chest as you arch into him, hips bucking into his as he fucks you slow. His kiss is hot, quick, desperate, but he has to fuck you slow or he’s going to lose it. His body tingles with pleasure as your moans spill into his throat, your nails raking down his back as you ground yourself.

Shoto’s mind swims as you mewl his name against his lips over and over. His head feels full of cotton as his thrusts begin to get a little sharper, jostling the bed. His grip on your hips tightens as he pulls you steadily back into each thrust, pupils blowing out at the way your cries get more desperate, your back arching as your walls clamp and spasm around him. There’s a gush of slick coating his pelvis and the tops of his thighs now, but Shoto doesn’t stop; his hands slip under your back, grasping you tightly as he pulls you up off the bed completely.

You sink deeper onto his cock with a high squeal, and Shoto cups your ass to hold you up a little, widening his stance so he can fuck into you steadily. You whimper at the overstimulation, your teeth finding his collarbone as Shoto mumbles breathlessly.

"A little more, sweetheart. Just a little more, you're doing so good."

Touya snorts. "Now who's an animal?"

Shoto whines and turns, sitting back onto the bed and laying back, raising your hips so he can watch his length pumping into you. Your release is shining between your thighs, everywhere really, sticking to his thighs and matting the red and white of his pubic hair.

When your moans cut off, Shoto looks up to see your lips pressed to Touya's. The elder brother has his fingers between your legs again, rubbing on your clit as he curls your fist around his cock, guiding your hand to stroke it with his own.

The tension in Shoto's gut stretches thin when he picks up Touya's low rasp, biting out between the gaps of his rough kisses.

"C'mon doll, squeeze him for me— You want a break, you gotta make him cum. You wanna make him cum, don't'cha?"

"Yeah, wanna feel him cum," you whimper, tearing your lips from Touya's to stare down at Shoto with pleading eyes. "Want your cum Sho', please."

"S-shit, sweetheart."

Shoto half sits up in his aim to reach for you, his finger’s curling around the back of your neck and pulling you back down with him as he licks into your mouth. His other arm wraps around your hips, holding you down onto him as he grinds his cock into you, moaning shamelessly down your throat at the way your walls are milking him.

“Oh fuck, oh shit—” Shoto breaks from your lips with a low cry, clutching you to his chest; white dots his vision as he gives in, his cock jerking as he unravels, several spurts of hot cum shooting deep into your pussy. “Oh god, you feel so good. You did so good.”

A jolt runs up his spine when Shoto realizes your hips are moving, grinding down on his slowly softening cock.

“So close,” you slur into his chest. “‘M so close, Sho’. ‘M right there.”

“Keep going, sweetheart,” Shoto breathes, trying not to moan at the jolt of overstimulation on his spent cock.

It’s sensitive, but it’s bearable, especially when it’s rewarded as your fluttering walls clamp down hard, your thighs quaking around his own. Your whine is loud even as it muffles into his shoulder, your nails digging into his chest as ride out your orgasm with little jerks of your hips. Shoto can barely comprehend the feeling swelling up inside him as you babble about how good his cock feels, how good he’s making you feel; amazement, pride, and no short amount of giddiness sits warm in his chest.

Shoto rubs a soothing palm up and down your back, mumbling sweet nothings as you relax into his chest, only to groan softly as your hips raise enough for his cock to slip out with a wet sound. His head pops up at the feel of something brushing between his legs, only to see Touya standing above you both, his hands on your hips.

Goosebumps rise on Shoto’s skin as he feels Touya’s hand brush over the tops of his thighs as his elder brother angles his cock towards your quivering, spent pussy.

You moan weakly, but don’t shy away from his touch.

“She looks so worn out, poor thing,” Touya coos, his voice filled with a sympathy that doesn’t match the wicked gleam in his eyes. “But this slutty pussy should be able to take more than this. Don't worry, doll. You'll get used to it soon."

#touya x reader #shoto x reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #touya todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #tw.stepcest #yuli writes

525 notes · View notes

slowd1ving · 4 months ago

Note

Hey I could request for a Daniel Park who has a crush on Male! Reader ( fluff please )

27,000 WON ゜・DANIEL PARK

Armed with nothing but a headache and the fit of a wayward uncle, it's perhaps not your proudest moment. But it's a moment nonetheless: one the cashier in this stupid convenience store locks away in his pounding heart. aka first meetings with this guy /// anon this is more crack than fluff I'm sorry ..my idea of fluff is getting a free umbrella from a fumbling cashier because it's raining, I swear it sounded better and fluffier planned pairing: daniel park + male student reader warnings: mentions of alcohol, convenience store weirdo #1 + #2, tiny bit of violence, not a warning but shy daniel (in both bodies), more reader-centric than anything, pre training arc wc: 2.2k

LOOKISM MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Without an umbrella, Seoul was a miserable place tonight. Anyone else might’ve appreciated the dense shimmer of rain streaked neon with this fluorescent city, but your head throbbed miserably with the urban cacophony. Fuck. It was pointless stumbling out onto the grey asphalt when you were in such a shit mood. People swarmed and jostled, and you might’ve stepped on a foot or two as you leaned against the rough, corrugated shutters of a closed shop: barely holding on to both your sanity and your consciousness.

Ironically, it was the detestable luminescent rods that saved you, beckoning your damp body towards a 24-hour convenience store. Warily, you peered at the cold lights—and they winked back. Winked, for their clinical flickering suggested sentience, or at least, some sort of quest window that was your beacon for safety from the downpour.

Located on the very corner overlooking an alleyway, it really wasn’t very surprising that it was a magnet for trouble too—if you objectively looked back on the situation. Dark, dingy, smelly—all were generous, polite adjectives you’d use to describe the surroundings.

You dodged the businessman puking up his guts on the off-white wall with a strained smile and a pained twitch in your eye. An abandoned soju bottle sloshed onto your shoes from his wobbling, and your day (night) became worse. Immediately. Biblically, your irritation surged to such unprecedented levels that he might’ve turned into a pillar of salt had you even an ounce of psychic talent.

Still, you stepped across the threshold smelling faintly of pollution and alcohol, but you were finally in one of Korea’s sanctuaries. Albeit soaked, shivering, and possibly seething with annoyance. The triple S threat of all bad days.

“Shit,” you cursed as your phone rang in your pocket. Desperately juggling the two bottles of barley tea and a lychee ice cream onto the top of a freshly polished shelf, you scrambled for the device and swiped it multiple times with wet fingers. Stupid, stupid phone, you thought as it creaked in your incensed grasp. Answer the fucking call, damn it.

The caller ID was as followed: stupid sod. The person on the other end? Well.

“Where’d you go? The weather was supposed to be rainy all through the night, and you really went for a walk?” The voice on the other end of the line was just as irritating as ever. Nasally, too, like if a short dog suddenly started barking with a French accent. Your head throbbed just trying to imagine it, but you did suppose your younger sister was a migraine and a half.

“Hungry,” you muttered. The brick-red plastic basket at the entrance clattered against the linoleum floor as you pulled it out single-handedly, but still you tried to keep your voice down during these witching hours. Those two barley teas bounced against crimson when you swiped the goods into your mode of carrying, and you thoughtfully threw two blue, cardboard packets of paracetamol into there too. Now, you were just missing some yellow to complete the haphazard primary colour wheel you cradled.

“What? Can’t hear you.” Your eye twitched at her admission, and you just knew she was squinting at her phone with an open mouth as if she could simply inhale the frequencies instead.

“—yeah I don’t have my ID, but you could let it slide, right?”

“Hungry,” you enunciated, clearly, for the dear sister struggling to hear a single word. “You happy? I’ll be back in twenty so just don’t burn the house down. And clean out your ears—I don’t want to give the poor guy working the graveyard shift a headache by talking loudly, especially since you’re a banshee on speaker.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she dismissed. “Get me those chips—those ketchup ones—and those peach candies. The knockoff ones, you know which ones.”

“With whose money? Get them yourself, you lazy bum,” you sighed exasperatedly. You were on, what, your last twenty thousand won? In this economy, too.

“—what do you mean you can’t just let it slide? Hey! I look over 21, don’t I? C’mon man, don’t make this difficult.” There were snippets of conversation threading along into the spool of your own, and your eyes flicked upwards. One poor cashier in his green vest, hands clasped like God would possibly rescue him from this situation if he was pious enough. The other had an obnoxiously fake leather jacket draped over him—a wannabe thug if you ever saw one.

“I sent you some, you broke shit. Like, you literally have a job, so there’s no need to be so stingy. Get me some lemon tea too,” she groaned. Her syllables dragged out abrasively, but you were more focused on the conversation unfolding in reality rather than how much you hated her voice.

“I’m sorry, I really—I legally can’t sell you these products if you don’t produce a valid ID.” The clerk had guts, you had to admit. His voice cracked just twice in his answer, and though he was about half the size of the guy blocking the lottery ticket view, his shaking fists clenched and unclenched. You liked the look in his eyes: determined to stand on principle, even if it was just to some guy high off a power trip.

“Okay, sure. Uhh, I might be back in forty. I just need to do something.” Words, as fickle as they were, drifted into nothingness while your eyes communicated your intentions. It was a pity you didn’t want to see her irritating face—you would’ve pressed the video call on Kakaotalk just so she could get front row seats to a beatdown. To be clear, the harrasser’s beatdown, not the harrassee’s.

“Hey. What’s that supposed to mean? Hyung? Fuck, not this— don’t you dare hang up, we’ve literally got our first day tom—”

“Gross.” You made a face as you finally pressed the red button; she should’ve known you’d simply leave the call sooner if she used that term. Cooties. Idiot cooties. Dropping the phone into your pocket and her cavity-inducing requests (plus some cup noodles for your grumbling stomach), you set the basket a safe distance away before eyeing the cashier.

You were quite the expert in miming and clownish arts, if you said so yourself. His face turned everything from unsettled to confused to hesitant in the span of two and a half seconds: pointing first at yourself emphatically; then to the man’s back as he stood waving his arms about; and finally making a fist and clenching it, all to really emphasise your point. Me. Him. I punch.

You don’t know if he took it as a joke. You hoped he didn’t, but his eyebrows crinkled and uncrinkled like he was trying to figure you out.

However, he didn’t exactly have the luxury of piecing together the implications. Not when the man became dangerously more incensed as he was asked to leave, and certainly not when he was about to grab the poor employee’s vest with those nasty hands of his.

Gross.

There was no time to hesitate and plead the heavens for forgiveness.

“Hey man, there’s no need to be a dick to workers,” you gritted out, gripping both his arms in an ironclad grip that miraculously relieved some of your tension headache. Like some damn stress ball, except this was not satisfying at all as you felt the hair on his forearms shift together. Ew. Ewww.

“Who the fuck are you?” His words sounded garbled, temples throbbing while you glared down at him. Get out. It was enough of a pain to move fast, let alone come up with an answer that didn’t sound corny. In a soaked hoodie, slippers and tracksuit bottoms, there was little you could say that wouldn’t make you stay up at night in embarrassment later on.

“Shut up,” you instead bade, since you looked like an uncle in this particular outfit. Might as well give out life advice. “Don’t give yourself liver and lung problems, kid.”

The cashier’s lips might’ve twitched in that moment, and your own suppressed the agonising grimace that convulsed through your face. Fuck. Why was a high school student giving life advice to this dropout?

“Who the fuck do you think you are, huh?” He began rocking his body to build momentum and twist free—and twist he did. Through the air and right into shiny, slippery linoleum after he canted his hips sideways for a weak punch. And you threw him, plain and simple: collar grasped tight in your aching fists.

Success. You did not hit anyone! And neither did you accidentally wreck any of these painstaking displays! You would not get chewed out with a slipper curve-balling straight at your head tomorrow!

“Are you—” the cashier began, but you gestured ‘wait’ with a splayed hand as you stared down at the half-conscious man at your feet sheepishly. Was he… alright? Any more of a brain shake and he could end up more stupid than he was five minutes ago, because how the hell would some random shopkeeper join the National Assembly and change the law? Just so this buffoon could buy drinks without an ID.

“Hold on,” you muttered with a dented pride and some shame. “Let me just—”

You hoisted the guy’s cheap leather-jacketed arm around your shoulder and dragged his wobbling body out, too repulsed by the stench emanating from him to pay heed to his nonsensical babble. There. Now the businessman holed up outside by the bin would have a buddy for company. For good measure, you tossed a powerful mango body spray into the red basket to douse yourself with promptly.

Awkwardly, you placed the miscellany onto the little table the thug had bracketed off—only this time the cashier’s opponent was some guy trying desperately to not wilt away on his feet.

“Um. Sorry about that—” The apology was muffled through your hand dragging across your face—peeking through your middle and index finger at the guy in front of you. Pinned to his vest was a nametag you hadn’t spotted earlier: Daniel Park, noted in size 15 Latin characters and rounded hangul alike. “—Daniel Park.”

Gosh, you even bowed. “Please forget what I said to that guy, for my dignity.”

“Sure.” Once his voice had stopped shaking, it really was quite pleasant to the ears—though it currently shook with barely suppressed laughter. He scanned your items with a tiny, tiny smile. “Thanks for that. I might’ve gotten punched if you hadn’t been there.”

“Real pricks out here,” you grumbled. “No sense of shame or anything.”

“Ah,” he quivered for a brief moment, and you felt your ears heat with just how much you sounded like an ahjussi.

“Forget I said that too,” you muttered mournfully: five stages of grief beginning and ending within you. “I promise I’m not that old.”

Plastic rustled as he pushed the bag towards you: “Twenty-seven thousand won.” And with it, a cheap polka-dot folding umbrella was also pushed your way with a self-conscious smile. You froze, and he floundered.

“As a thank—as a thank you,” he waved, panicked.

“Well, thanks.” You honestly were a little dumbfounded at this sudden good fortune. Maybe you’d get struck by lightning on the way home—you were tall enough that it could probably serve as a conducting rod if you tried hard enough. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

Just like that you were gone. Back into the neon rain of Seoul you walked, though this time it wasn’t as bad with a pattern over your head and acerbic ice wedged between a sheepish pout.

・゜・

With a barely suppressed yawn, you stood loudly and proudly (silently and exhaustedly) before your new class. They looked like any other crowd of teenagers: gum surreptitiously being chewed, sneakers squeaking right against vinyl flooring, and a barrage of interesting fashion choices as befitted this department. Back to your own name, you introduced yourself while thinking of about a million other things you could’ve been doing.

Speaking of your new classmates, they may have been looking at you with curiosity, but there was one particular guy who looked like he’d seen a ghost. Another pretty-boy you’d never done business with, but somehow—for some damn reason—he was staring like you’d shot a horse in front of him. Staring like he was the shot horse. Seriously. Paracetamol was limited in how far it could cure a headache.

Your gaze met his, and he flinched. Who’s this guy?

Fuck.

Daniel Park was done for. As you looked at him, he could feel his heart threaten to explode and spatter this whole classroom with veins and sanguine matter. Still wearing that same hoodie, still grinning lazily, and still sporting that confident expression like you could handle anything. His pen creaked in his tight grasp.

By all heavens, this man was flushed red as soon as your unimpressed gaze met his—pink and suppressing the urge to hide his steaming face in his hands.

Shit, shit, shit.

・゜・

“Daniel, why the hell is your face so red?”

‘Are you sick?’

“He’s basically the healthiest out of all of us. Can’t be illness.”

“Okay so you agree it’s unusual then?”

“How odd. Maybe he’s come down with a fever.”

155 notes · View notes