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mhahaikyuus · 1 year

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Shelves

tags:; bakugo x reader, established relationship, fluff, reader being type A and so is Bakugo, domestic fluff, minor injury, small arguments, pro hero bakugo x reader, cuddling

a/n: posting this bc i haven’t posted in forever hope you enjoy, reblogs appreciated

You were sitting in your living room reading a book as your boyfriend came back from an early Saturday shift around mid day to your shared house.

While he was gone you had received a package at your doorstep. Heavy furniture packaged in a big cardboard box at your doorstep.

You had planned for your boyfriend to be home to help you move it two bookshelves for the living room.

However it started to rain and you didn’t want the package to get wet, and you were independent grown woman, you could move a box.

So you spent 30 minutes moving a box about the size of a fridge up a flight of stairs, through your doorway to the living room.

While you were moving it you definitely pulled something in your back. Now laying on your couch your lower back in pain.

Katsuki came home to you laying on the couch and a giant box in your living room. You knew he would cuss you out for hurting yourself when you could’ve called him to move it.

“I’m back y/n-“ He stopped looking at the box bigger than yourself standing in your living room, “The delivery guys put it in the living room.” He interrupted himself assuming wrong.

You hummed in response not wanting to say yes or no.

“Okay I’ll put it together tonight.” He said

Leaning down to kiss you. You met him halfway with a small wince and smiled in that kiss.

“I can do it later, I just want to lay down right now.” You said falling back on the couch.

“No I’m doing it.” He said. He hated how independent you are. Wanting you to rely on him but you never fully could always making excuses.

“Fine.” You sighed. Katsuki leaned down to give you a kiss again and reached around to drag your forward.

You gasped in pain as he held onto your lower back.

“What’s wrong.” He said pulling back quickly with a frown looking at your body. Thinking he had hurt you

“Nothing.” Trying to move his hand but Katsuki wasn’t budging. Vermillion eyes narrowing

“You’re lying.” He said and he pinched your back making you whimper.

“Ow. Ow. Ow. Okay.” You said

“What did you do.” Katsuki asked, his hands on your hips holding you.

“I moved the box… myself.” You admitted and his eyes narrowed.

“What the hell were you thinking? You could’ve called me. That box is bigger than you.” He yelled as you threw back your head at his scolding of you knowing it was because he loves you.

“You had patrol. And I can do it, I am fully capable of doing things by myself

“You could have called me. You know I would’ve come back to move the box.” He said with a frustrated look. “Why didn’t you call me, you never call me. I’m your boyfriend I’m supposed to do it. I’m supposed to open jars for you, move heavy objects, and fix things for you. Let me do it. Now you’re hurt.” He said

“It’s fine I’ll be okay just a couple of days and my back will be fine.” You lied to comfort him.

“Don’t lie to me, how bad does it hurt.” He said concerned

“An 8,”

“Jesus-“

“Calm down.”

“No next time you need something call me or I’m gonna lose it. I don’t care if you don’t feel like walking and you call me to carry you up the stairs. You call me.” Katsuki said. “What kind of boyfriend am I to have you throwing out your back to move something.”

“The kind that saves people for a living and loves me when I do stupid things like hurt my back.” You said with doe eyes you knew that made him melt. Bringing him in by the back of his neck for a kiss.

Pressing his forehead to yours and rubbing his face, his favorite action of yours. Never truly getting mad at you when you loved him.

“Did you call a doctor? You could’ve slipped a disc, or-“

You laughed at how anal he could be. “No I did not, I will be fine in a couple days.”

“How do you know that?” He asked

“I swear you are just as stressed as Izuku.” You said kissing him.

He grumbled rubbing your leg, “Don’t compare me to shitty Deku. I worry because I love you and you are a moron.”

“You’re best friends for a reason, and I am a moron that loves you and I’m going to ask for your help right now.”

Katuski ignored your first comment, “Is that so?”

“Yes because I need you to help me walk to the kitchen. I’m hungry and I’ve been stuck on this couch.”

Katsuki picked you up by your armpits and walked you to the kitchen with your legs wrapped around his waist.

“How was patrol?” You asked

“Great. I love fighting with a bank robber when my girlfriend is injuring herself because she won’t pick up the phone to call me.” He said with an attitude all you could do was roll your eyes.

“How long are you going to be mad at me.” You said tugging on his blonde hair. He grunted at your hands handling him.

Katsuki sat you gently on one of the chairs. Standing in between your legs, both arms caging you, and dropping his head.

“I’m not mad at you, im pissed that you won’t call me. Being a pro hero isn’t going to kill me you are.” He grumbled and you laughed.

“What do you want to eat?” He asked pulling away to cook for you.

“Whatever you want to cook.”

You sat in the kitchen as he cooked and you tried to help.

Trying to open a jar and your boyfriend gave you the dirtiest look.

“What did we just talk about.” He said wanting to snatch the jar out of your hand.

You held it out to him.

“Cut me some slack, please. I am used to being independent for as long as I’ve been alive.” You said

“We have been together for almost a year now. And I am here now for you. So relax please. I like taking care of you.” He said grabbing your hand and giving it a kiss. “We bought the house to be together and I can baby you.”

“You are such a sap.”

“The headline yesterday was “Dynamight’s Rage.” He replied his back turned to you cooking one of your favorite meals.

“Yes you’re so scary baby.” You sarcastically said

Both of you knowing that he had a temper and could terrify anyone. But as scary as Katsuki was he was far more scared of you when you got in your moods.

Katsuki finished cooking for you, placed you back on the couch, and made you sit there as he built the bookshelves.

He opened the box with a tool kit and instructions. You sat on the couch eating the food he made. The living room covered in styrofoam packaging and cardboard.

Even after a grueling shift, your boyfriend had cooked you a full dinner and was assembling shelves just for you.

You were type A and liked to be in control and do things yourself. Bakugo was also type A and trying to build it as you tried to control.

“No baby it’s screw A that’s screw H.” You said reading the instructions he threw.

He didn’t listen to anyone but you got half an ear.

“I know what I’m doing I don’t need the instructions.” Bakugo griped.

“I’m serious, please do it right. My books are my babies.” You complained.

“Woman you already injured yourself, can you let me do this.”

“If you did it right then I wouldn’t be complaining.” You shot back.

He let out a huff ignoring you continuing to build.

After the third time of him doing something you didn’t like you got frustrated.

Getting up off the couch, Katsuki heard you move not even turning.

“Get back on that couch before I strap you down.” He said not looking up. His red eyes focused on the wood planks.

You continued to move off the couch with a wince and Katuski turned around from the floor narrowing his eyes.

“Ass back on the couch. Now.”

“You’re not doing it right.” You whined halfway up.

He stood up his big body towering over you. Guiding back to the couch.

“You are a control freak. Sit down before I lock you in the bedroom or in the car to drive you to the hospital.” Katsuki threatened sitting you back down and throwing a heavy blanket on you to hold you down.

He was always so gentle with you even when he was ticked off.

After about an hour he saved the last bookshelf for tomorrow to cuddle you in bed.

“I told you I knew what I was doing.”

You hummed at his cockiness. He had given you some Advil and was gently massaging your back in your bed. You trapped in his big arms, your chests touching. His thick fingers gently pressing against your lower back.

“You like being my superman huh?” You said into his chest.

“Superman? Screw him I’m your Dynamight baby.”

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou fluff #mha imagine #mha imagines #mha scenarios #my hero academia #bakugo katsuki #mha x reader #bakugo scenarios #mha #bakugo imagines #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki x y/n #katsuki fluff #bakugou imagine #bakugo fluff #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you

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forbidden-sunlight · 1 year

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platonic yandere!shiva with nezuko!reader headcanons

warning: anime/manga spoilers for the swordsman’s village arc, ooc, overprotective!shiva + wives, ganesh is celibate in this piece although some depictions show him to be married with two spouses in mythology.

If someone had told Shiva that he would be welcoming a few unexpected additions to his little family, he’d just blink and ask his wives if they had gotten pregnant. He is not the best deity when it comes to addressing this sort of situation but he’s still trying, dammit. Thankfully his wives were understanding and did not try to kill him for being a dumbass…mostly.

Anyway, it had been a calm morning in the Little Palace when one of the servants entered the audience chamber, blubbering how there were two children, a boy and a girl, suddenly appearing in one of the glass greenhouses, engulfed a sphere of vermillion flames before they disappeared. They were severely injured and unconscious, the tiniest child even had a muzzle tied around her mouth!

What should they do?

Shiva frowned. The Hindu pantheon knew better than to trespass into his territory unless he welcomed them as a fellow comrade or a guest that was supposed to be arriving the following night, whether it was to have a good time or expand their territories. But two kids poppin’ out of nowhere like that? Definitely suspicious. He ordered the servant to show them where these kids are, so he could see it for himself.

The greenhouses were wedding gifts to his wives: Parvati, Kali, and Durga. Although the latter preferred to have a well-polished scimitar than flowers, they were all pleased with the structures and used them to host events when the weather was unbearable. They were enchanted to either be cooled or heated depending on the season. Truly a practical gift. The one he was heading to belonged to Kali.

In front of the lotus pond was a small crowd of servants, armed with weapons and pointing at a little girl. She was wearing a pink hemp-patterned kimono with a black haori draped over her small body, long [Hair Color] tresses falling past her back and glowing in the sunlight. [Eye Color] orbs were glaring at them as she stood protectively over a body behind her, tiny arms stretched out and snarling through her saliva-covered muzzle.

Even covered in wounds from head to toe, she was ready to give her life away if it meant her loved one would remain safe. A child. The revelation stunned and worried Shiva. He hated confrontations unless he was up for a fight, but not with someone who could barely reach his knees!

Shiva ordered the servants to lower their weapons with his lower arms, maintaining eye contact with the girl as his upper hands were up in a placating gesture. “Hey now, no one’s gonna hurt you, okay? They were just scared…just like you are now, right?” He asked carefully. She blinked, the anger slowly subsiding from them and replaced with confusion. When he saw that she was calming down, he approached them…only to receive a sharp kick in the solar plexus, causing him to stumble backwards.

Shiva’s mind raced. How? He thought. He is the strongest leader of the strongest pantheon in Valhalla…how did this child even have the strength to land a hit like this?!

Glancing over her shoulder, she took a step back and knelt by the boy’s side. It was like her personality did a one-eighty as she mewled through her muzzle, tears swelling her eyes as she headbutted the boy, not once but twice. She was trying to wake up the other child.

Against his better judgment, Shiva approached the child again, coaxing her to allow him to help her. She wanted to help her friend, right? There were healers in the Little Palace. Let them help, and he promised that he’ll make sure her friend will be alright. He gave his word as the pantheon leader.

She narrowed her eyes at him, looking down at the boy before she slowly, and reluctantly, stepped aside. Shiva smiled as he carefully picked up the little one’s friend, barking at the silent servants to get their asses moving. The little girl followed him through the greenhouse to the corridors of the Little Palace, matching her stride with his own…well, as best as she could for a tiny child.

Once the healers saw them, they immediately went to work. The little girl did not want anyone touching her. She just kept pointing at her friend…wait…were her wounds…healing?

Who in the world was this child? Is she even a mortal?

Shit, he already felt a headache coming on. Damn it…as much it bothered him…he’s gonna have to ask around. He had no idea what he’s dealing with. While he investigated the situation, he instructed his wives and Ganesh to be careful. They could protect themselves but they had no idea who or what this child was...except for the fact that all four of them fell for her charm, hard and fast.

Although she had been hostile towards him, she was warm around the others. She smiled at them, patted their heads, and even tried to braid Parvati’s hair. When they tried to offer her plates of fruits and other foods, she just shook her head and went to the far corner of the room and slept soundly. One of his wives made sure she had pillows and blankets, of course.

It was when Shiva returned home that he found Ganesh cradling the little girl in his arms as she napped, curled up in a ball. The only thing they could learn about their mysterious guest was that she could only write two words: [First Name] and Tanjiro. The other child, the boy, was named Tanjiro. He is her older brother.

Well, that sounded a bit more promising than the lack of intel he gathered. Hades had heard there was a demon who did not consume human flesh in the mortal realm, and it definitely sounded like [First Name] based on her unusual description. However, if this is the case, and all she did was kick Shiva, then she’s harmless. The lord of the underworld knew the god of creation and destruction would handle her…if she got out of hand.

On the seventh day, the boy regained consciousness, and [First Name] leapt into his arms as soon as he hoarsely called out to her. She rubbed her hands against his face, tears falling down her cheeks and made noises that were muffled by her muzzle. He introduced himself as Tanjiro Kamado, thanking everyone profusely for helping him and his little sister when they did not have to. When Shiva asked how they came into his territory, Tanjiro froze and began to bow rapidly, apologies spewing from his mouth.

He did not know what happened. One moment, he and [First Name] were protecting the swordsman’s village from two Upper Moon-ranked demons, fighting against one that could split his body into four parts and then after they were struck by a sonic wave…they blacked out. His story only made Shiva even more confused.

Tanjiro quickly elaborated on what had happened to their family, how he trained in the mountains for two years to become a Demon Slayer, and had been an official member of the organization for a while. He still had a long way to go…and above all else, he wanted to find a way to change his younger sister back to a human.

Shiva raised an eyebrow. “Kid, you said demons could be burned beneath the sunlight…and yet she stood in it when she protected you from us in the greenhouse, thinking we were an enemy. Is it ‘cause she hasn’t eaten human flesh?”

Tanjiro squawked, dark red eyes widened in surprise. “Huh?!”

As if to prove it, [First Name] climbed off of the bed and walked towards an open window, ignoring Tanjiro’s pleas to stay in the shade. She stood beneath the window, allowing herself to be engulfed in the warm rays of the sunshine. One minute became two, and she didn’t disintegrate. Instead, she spun around in a circle, smiling at Tanjiro.

Shiva hadn't seen a boy cry so hard since Ganesh fell on his butt after taking his first steps…but that’s a story for another time. He’ll inform Hades about this Demon Slayer Corps that was stationed in Japan, and the siblings will stay with him until further notice. His wives and son couldn’t agree more, though the four-armed deity believed it was just because [First Name] was cute.

Scratch that. She is adorable.

Tanjiro was like a little ball of sunshine, polite and always willing to help when he wasn’t training with Shiva or learning how to read and write alongside his sister. Parvati and Kali were insistent that these two were educated. Durga just rolled her eyes and said knowledge won’t keep them alive on the battlefield….but it won’t hurt to learn their language so they don’t go pissing someone off.

His wives meant well, but Shiva still felt a chill crawl down his spine at the thought of someone stupid enough to flirt or try to court either of his adoptive kids. Ganesh chose to be celibate, but the Kamado siblings were…too trusting.

And Shiva will be damned if he allowed anything to happen to them so long as he reigned over Svarga as the God of Creation and Destruction.

Bonus Content:

When Shiva and his wives were told by Tanjiro that [First Name] could alter her body’s size and height from a child who can fit into a box to an adult able to combat against demons within seconds, their overprotective nature increased tenfold.

Ganesh would definitely make sure no one would get close to his little sister.

Taglist:

@thatstrangesheep

@mortemorii

@myrisan-melodies

@onecantsimply

@puffy-bangs

@nunezs-stuff

@praisethesuuun

@zodiacs-web

@the-dumber-scaramouche

@themoonisrising

@enryegotrip

@justamegafan

@seii-fantasy

@yellow-snark

@ceeesxy-blog

@dance-till-the-death

@diamondzoey

Honorable mentions:

@deathmetalunicorn1

#snv x reader #snv shiva #ror shiva #platonic yandere #nezuko!reader #yandere headcanons #yandere shuumatsu no valkyrie #shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok x reader #forbidden-sunlight #yandere x reader

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pursuitseternal · 7 months

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“Master me:” the Sub!Ascended Astarion x F!Reader fic of your nsfw dreams, update to “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 5.1 K of Sub!Vampire Lord

Summary: It’s all yours, the power, the wealth. But your Vampire Lord wishes to give you something he’s never given willingly before… his submission.

CW: NSFW, Dom/Sub Dynamics, soft!dom for his trauma healing, ThroneSex ™️, body worship, oral s3x, orgasm denial, orgasm control, “only come when you’re told,” begging, pleading, whimpering Astarion, praise kink…

Read here if you prefer AO3

For @marimosalad and @anaisbaillon

Continue and accept the gift of his submission…

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

He has summoned you, his lady, his bride, his beloved. The right hand and consort to the Vampire Lord. Of course, you didn’t come right away when the servant knocked on your door. He had been attending business all day. So many deals and promises and threats and examples to be made, he’s been attending from his throne all day. Yes. He held his court from his magnificent chair, staring down from his mighty gilded seat of power, glaring with vermillion eyes at anyone who entered the presence of the Ascendant Lord.

Now he calls for you, after hours behind closed doors. You give it… a little time. Not so much as to try his patience, but enough that you don’t go running into his arms in front of all of Baldur’s Gate. A delicate balance, one you can excuse by flouncing your dress, changing the jewels around your neck. You settled on something dark and sheer and elegant, nearly see-through in places, enough to catch the eye and make the mouth water.

Make his mouth water. That’s all you cared for anyway.

Leaving your chambers, you sweep through the halls, every servant, every guest, or Patriar, or merchant in your palace stops to bow and curtesy. Careful not to disrespect you. For you are his.

You arrive at last to the large, thick doors to his great hall. You can feel his eyes on you before you even turn the corner and breach the room. Astarion sits, reclined. Bored. Distant. But the moment you sweep into his presence, he claps his hands.

Silence falls on the crowd. “Leave,” he hisses quietly. It slices through the din. People retreat in an instant. They cleave around you, separating around where you stand just inside the grand chamber, distances away from your lover, enthroned, and yet you can almost feel his breath on your skin. Even from here.

It takes but a moment for you to finally be alone. His eyes rake over you, his back reclining in his throne, his knee crossed over his leg. But his gaze is only on you. He crooks a finger at you as the doors close, pushed by his magic and sealed by his power.

It is just him now. And he wants you to come… closer.

You obey, feeling more than seeing as his smirk curls his lips and skews his brows. One step, then another, you climb the dais. Then, you stop. Waiting. Eyes locked into one another, his breathing is rapid and shallow. And you furrow, sensing something swirling beneath that cold exterior. You see it then, a slight tweak at the corner of his eyes, a clench of his jaw. And then he lets out a muffled, half-swallowed sob.

“Everything, my love, it’s all ours. Sovereigns of Baldur’s Gate. King and queen in all but name…” his chest shakes. His eyes, wide and wet, look up at you. “It feels… wonderful… horrible… I- I don’t know…”

Without another thought, you hurry to his side, wrapping your arms around his head, cradling him into your breast. His tears are wet on your chest. You can almost feel it, that facade of his power and callous attitude crumbling in your arms. He takes a breath, inhaling your scent, his arms clutching hard around your waist.

“I thought you wouldn’t come, when you were late. For a moment… I thought you had…” he swallows the rest of his fears.

“I would never leave you,” you whisper, warming your words with all the feeling in your heart, running your hand through those silken, silver, unruly curls.

“I… I want to give you something, my love,” he steadies his voice, pulling back from your embrace, arms tugging you into his lap.

“Name it, and I will gladly accept, Astarion,” you smile, gently, settling yourself on the spread of his thighs.

“I want…” he swallows again, his face so close to yours. Haunted, troubled. Something is gnawing at him. “I want to give you everything…”

“You already have,” you smile sweetly, palming his cheek.

“No,” he shakes his head, “I don’t mean…” he clears his throat, eyes scanning the room around you as the shadows begin to lengthen, the colors of sunset pouring in through the arched and vaulted windows. “I… we have won. I have power; influence, riches, comfort…” his brow arches a bit rakishly, “…love. I have everything that Cazador deprived me of for centuries. More than he ever did. I am the most powerful vampire in the realms.”

You pause. Waiting. Watching those eyes flickering with the embers of his power. His voice rings with his pride, those traces of shattered confidence evaporated. But then he looks square in your eyes again.

And all that pride and power disappear.

“And I want you to have me submit to you, my love,” he breathed, his voice hissing between his teeth. As if he is in pain. In agony. “I want to give you my submission.”

“Submit to me?” you drop your hand from his face, letting it rest on his chest.

“You are the one thing that grounds me, you know, that pulls me back from becoming a… the very thing I once feared. I want… I want to give you… everything,” he leans in to place a shaking, hesitant kiss on your lips, “I want to grant you even this favor, darling.”

“If you wish,” you reply, tapping your hand on his heaving chest. “I do not require it of you.”

“I know,” he smiles so, so slightly, “that’s why I can give it to you. That's why I can… trust you.”

Your breath catches. The need in his eyes bores into you. He’s waiting. Waiting for you. For your command. “Very well, if it would please you.”

“Greatly, but you’ll have to be harsher than that to make me submit.” He flashes his teeth, a bit of that wicked, cheeky flare you know and love in him.

“I don’t want to be too harsh, I don’t want to hurt you…” you bite your lip, careful how you mention your worry. You can almost hear the ghosts of Cazador’s voice from… you shudder to remember.

He purses his lips, thinking. “Don’t call me boy, or belittle me, don’t starve me, just be the decent person I know and love, and I’m sure this will be pleasurable for both of us…”

You nod, gently. “Then kneel,” you whisper. Sweetly. Too sweetly. He raises a brow at your tone.

“No,” he pushes, that irascible smirk teasing and twitching the corner of his mouth.

You fight the foolish grin that your mouth aches to show. But you keep yourself stern. Commanding. “On… your… knees… Astarion,” you order, warmth in your voice even as you bite at your words.

He moves you by your waist, reverently sliding you off his lap to make his way to the steps of the dais.

“Too far, my love,” you chuckle, savoring his quick little turn as you settle yourself in his throne. “There…” you give a sigh for affect, nestling yourself in the gilded confines of this chair, running your fingers over the gold filigree arms. “Kneel at my feet, lover, and take that doublet off while you’re at it. It’s far too expensive to be ruined by the things I am about to have you do….”

Oh, how he obeys. Shivering and shuddering in delight. A coy, contented smile on his face as he slinks off the heavy- embroidered jacket to leave in a pile on his floor.

Slowly, he sinks to his knees at the top of the dais, close to you. So close, you can see his nostrils flare with every breath, you can watch the muscles of his bare chest clenching as he sits back on his heels. He places his palms on his thighs, one on each, eyes looking right into yours.

Waiting. And eager.

You smile, ready to lavish him with praise. “What a good darling,” you purr. “Quite the sight, the most powerful vampire in all the realms… kneeling before me. It can make a consort quite heated…” you fan your face. “Perhaps I need to remove some of these trappings,” you pluck the black fabric between your fingers. Slowly, you slink the hem of your dress higher. Higher. His crimson eyes darting to watch your unfolding display.

“Might I be of… assistance?” He offers, honeyed tone even as he remains perfectly still.

A laugh leaks from your throat. “You may, only, don’t touch my skin just yet, Astarion. Soon you can, but not… now…”

You watch him rise slowly, licking his lips as you lean forward in the throne. His hands are slow, reverent as they catch up your hair to part it over one shoulder. The lacings at the back of your dress bared for him to attend. It’s deliberate, filled with care, his long fingers deftly pulling the bindings out, lace by lace. His touch is heavy, making certain you feel his every ministration through the fabric of your dress. His hands skate lower, ghosting over the silk to your waist, bunching the fabric to reveal your skin, to expose your shoulders and arms.

You turn your head to look at him, rising to your feet. “Finish the job, my love,” you order, keeping that edge to your voice. Hand raising to his cheek, you caress him, softly, slowly, running your hand down the column of his neck to press on his shoulder. He smiles at your touch, slinking back to his knees… looking up into your face as his hands ruck your skirts in his fists. Pulling, shimmying your skirts to reveal the bare pale flesh of your belly, your thighs.

You step from the puddle of fabric at your feet, closing right into the distance between you where he kneels. Your hands bury in his hair, pressing his eager face into your embrace. His lips caress you, sucking and licking into the soft center of your stomach. His voice hums low, reverberating into your flesh. “Such a reward for so little,” he whispers against your skin, “you can push me harder than that, darling…”

“Really…?” You purr, canting a brow, mischief rising within you. “You just be sure, my love to say when it is too much.”

“Like too much sugar in my tea, I’ll say when, I promise,” he chuckles, slow and languorous, his face creeping lower and lower until his tongue barely laps between your folds. His breath stirring in the soft curls of your mound.

“Then, darling, you can touch,” you step away, seating yourself back in his throne. The velvet lining cushions your bare skin, the metal cold and shocking to the touch. But you recline, the same posture he had assumed at your arrival. “Come and give me your worship, my love,” you toss at him, hearing his steps slowly round on you. His eyes glow with hunger, his teeth glinting as he smiles. He laughs, eyeing you as your thighs part for him to give you more.

His hands rest upon the tops of your legs, settled on his heels before your seat.

“Tch, tch,” you tut at him, brushing his palms from your skin. “Your tongue alone, darling,” you smirk, watching your command making him fairly salivate. “Since you insist on using it, it seems,” you feign disgust, wiping the trails of his saliva from your belly.

He laughs, lowering his kisses to where your hand just touched. “Yes, my love,” he clasps his hands behind his back, glancing up with eyes of red fire, making certain you saw his obedience. “It would be my… pleasure,” he growls, nose pressing into where you ache. You gasp, the demanding dart of his tongue between your folds sending an instant curl of heat in your belly. Attentive, aggressive, he growls into your thighs, and you watch the muscles of his forearms clenching behind his back.

With every lick, he pushes hard, struggling to get just where he wants.

“Something the matter?” you coo, sliding your hips closer to the edge of the chair.

“You could be helpful and master me, you know darling? Give me a little to gain a lot…”

Your hand slips between your legs, fingers spreading yourself wide after a few caresses of your own fingers deep into your channel. You hear his breathing heavy in his chest, watching every muscle in his body wind tight like a spring.

A predator who would love nothing more than to pounce and devour you to his satisfaction. But you pat him on the head, throwing one leg over the cool metal arm of the seat.

“Better?” you dare, your answer is nothing more than his tongue diving with all his hunger deep into your channel, lapping and circling your clit, fangs catching the edges of your folds. You feel it creeping up with each pass and swirl of his tongue. So close, that wave of heat. You can hear his voice rasping, breath heavy as he works inside you. “Touch me,” you order. “Do it, Astarion.”

Released, his hands are on you, everywhere all at once. His fingers claw into your sides, tugging your hips closer. You slide on the velvet aimed right for his hungry, devouring mouth. Long, strong, his fingers delve hard and fast into you as he sucks on your clit. He groans to feel you tighten on his hand, to feel your juices flowing, your back arching and hips bucking on the seat of his throne.

Your hands fist into his hair, pushing him away as he insists on lapping you through the very last wave of your orgasm. He trails his drenched tongue to the delicate inside of your thigh, tracing a circle over the spot he loves most. “Just a bite, darling? May I have some reward?”

“Just a bite,” you pant, still easing down from the writhing muscles, warmth releasing through you.

His fangs pierce your thigh, a moment of pain, quickly masked as he slips his fingers into you again, crooking and stroking your channel.

“That’s enough I think, for now,” you hum, gripping gently into his hair to lift his face. “I said a bite and just a bite it will be.”

He bares his teeth at you, the points of his fangs barely dipped in red. “Darling…” he pushes, voice barely more than a growl.

“Just for now…” you softly stroke his cheek, running the pad of your thumb over his trembling lower lip as he sneers. “Just until you make me come again…”

His lips sneer wider, twisting into a barely contained feral smirk. “As you wish,” he croons, “may I use all the… tools at hand?” His eyes glance down his own body, his hips shoving against the bottom of the chair.

You tilt your head, feigning consideration. “Not yet,” you sigh. “But you may kiss me, my love.”

The last thing you see before he pounces on you is that smirk that makes your heart rap against your ribs and sucks your breath from your lungs at its beauty. His knee shoves in beside you, his lips dancing and plying yours. The tip of his tongue darts between your lips, salt and tang from your blood, your cum, a heady concoction as he tangles it with yours.

One hand claws into your neck, trapping you, pinning you to his ravenous mouth.

Those fingers conjure magic inside you. Twisting and thrusting, sweeping through every ridge inside you just the way you like. It’s a dance, the darting of tongue timed in perfect rhythm with the pumping of his fingers and the scoring of his thumb on your clit. His humming, growling into your mouth. “Oh, so wet and tight, if only I could feel that same release…”

You smile into his kiss, your hand grazing lightly against the cool, clenching muscles of his chest. Stroking, scratching your nails down to the edge of his trousers, you barely brush over where his erection stretches against the straining fabric. Those hips buck into your palm, making you press against as much of his length as you can hold. He grinds into you, his breath heavier than ever, you can almost feel his cock hardening, tightening, his every movement chasing his own release. You ease your fingers away, stroking just a single finger over the edge of his waistband, feeling the soft skin of his seeping head bursting out the top.

“Me first, darling,” you breathe between his fangs. “Then, you’ll have to choose…” you graze your hand down your neck, “…feed…” You grab that bulging cock, gripping it between your thumb and finger to run hard over. He grunts, fingers stilling inside you at the delicious, painful pleasure, “…or fuck, my love.”

“But first,” he hums, fingers renewed as he lightly tugs you clit, “you come.” It isn’t an observation. It’s an order. He pinches you, hand gripped into your neck, holding you fast as you do rip in two, rent apart to shatter in his hand.

You gasp, panting, trying to strain and arch as you writhe in exquisite bliss. His hand stays you, pressing you to his shoulder, savoring the way you clutch your hands around his side, letting you shudder and clench until you are still at last. His breath rattles in your ear, for as relaxed and limp as you feel, his body writhes with his fervent need, bound and cramping with his unsated hunger. “Is it… my turn?” he hisses, teeth already scraping your neck, hands pawing your hair back to reveal that pale flesh he craves.

“Say please,” you give a single laugh, one you swallow the instant you feel his hands raking up your body, palming your breasts and plucking your straining nipples.

He swirls his tongue, bringing your breast into his mouth, one hard suck makes you instantly flush and writhing again. “Please,” he purrs around your nipple. Fire floods your veins, his lips and hands kneading you, molding you as he waits for your command.

All you can do is clutch your hands into those locks, cradling him softly, moaning your assent. “Yes, my good, good darling, yes.” You tilt your head again, waiting for his fangs to mark you, to claim his well-earned reward.

But the second you feel his low-throated chuckle on the top of your breast, you gasp, your breath burning in your lungs. Fangs slice into the sensitive softness, his fingers plucking and twirling your nipples even as he feeds from the blood that runs down into the valley of your chest.

He laps at you, greedily, famished, growling with little noises as he drinks from you, his consort. His love.

But you feel that power begin to shift, that possessive edge crawling under his skin with every suck of his lips and every clasp of his fingers around the fullness he caresses.

“Enough,” you whimper, hands pushing at the broadness of his shoulders. He resists, another long suck on your breast, licking at the blood that bathes it. “Don’t be greedy,” you hiss, finally getting him to raise his face from your skin, his eyes glowing, insufferable and provoking as he licks his bloodied lips with a smile.

“Yes… my treasure,” he fights to reply, struggling to find that restraint. You can see him gritting his teeth, concentrating on moving his body off of yours. His eyes spark, barely bridled power almost tickling your skin, but he manages to stand before you. Before where you sit, naked on his throne. He lets the sight fill him, his chest rising and falling as he breathes in your scent.

“You’re so good,” you purr, slowly rising to your feet, feeling that surge of desire, of power swirling under his skin, as you stand just an inch away from him. “And if you stay good, I might even let you free this…” You clutch at his erection, palming it with a twisted smirk. Savoring the grunt he makes as you run that grip over his confined length. “Yes, that’s it, my sweet, sweet lover…” You stand on the tips of your toes, craning to whisper right in his ear. “How badly do you want to come, my love?”

“More than anything,” he growls, turning his face sharply towards you. “I’d give anything for you…”

“Anything is a lot, you know…” You smile, running your hand over his cock until you feel him shiver under your touch. That’s when the thrill hits you, the control, the power he has given you. It’s… intoxicating, that restraint he gives only for you. That trust he shares only in you. The weight of that responsibility sobers you for a moment, and you break, reaching for his neck encircled in your arms, pulling him down into your lips for a kiss. “And I’d give anything for you too,” you breathe into your hungry mouth.

“Not getting soft on me, are you?” he growls into your mouth, hips bucking into your waist. But the slight softness in his eyes makes your heart thrill, a look of total affection. Of love, swirling behind that veil of domineering power.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, not when you’re as hard as you are, my love,” you purr arching against his body. He’s rigid, careful. Watching your every little movement as he breathes heavily under your touch. You stroke him, that soft fabric of his breeches straining at the seams to be released. Fingers slowly draw the laces out, one by one, your nails dragging sharply over his skin, as inch by inch, you let out that straining cock. As inch by inch, he grows harder, more ravenous, under your featherlight, scoring touch. You finally let him out, making him shuffle off the rest of his clothing until he’s nothing but skin and fangs and a ravenous smirk before you.

“Sit,” you grip him by his arms, spinning his frame as you shove him into his own throne. His eyes flicker in delighted surprise, shifting his body in anticipation for yours to join him.

“Yes, darling,” he croons, giving his ass a clench that makes his cock twitch and pulse. And you can’t look away. You want this, so badly, your entire body trembles for him inside you, that heady concoction of your lust for him and his unwavering trust in you goes right to your head, and to your loins.

You calculate your every move, every sway of your hips, the way you let your hands caress your curves, tracing your fingers into your folds. And you savor that way he licks his lips, his eyes glossy with his need, his hands clenched into the arms of his throne. “You’re trying so hard to be good,” you purr, tossing your hair down your back, crossing to slowly straddle him. You wrap your hands around his length, so hard, pale marble beneath your fingers. You give it a slow stroke, his lips twitching as he gives a groan of pleasure. “You deserve some pleasure for all you’ve done for me,” you lean against his chest, catching his lips in a shallow kiss. “But you’ll have to ask me nicely before you come… darling.”

Astarion whimpers, his lips baring his fangs as you raise your folds above that seeping head of his. Letting your slick just barely graze over him. “Please,” he groans, a swiveling thrust of his hips into you, one you avoid as he tries to sheath into your wetness.

“Not yet,” you tutt, teasing that blunted tip over your clit as you moan, eyes shutting as you make yourself the perfect picture of reckless abandon. A swivel of your hips, a nibble of your lip, as you tear his cock between your thighs. So silken and so hard, you groan with each sweep of him you make down your seam, each tantilizingly shallow dip you give of it into the clenching walls of your channel.

“Darling,” he groans, thrusting up into you, claiming just a little more traction into your cunt, “please… can’t I at least touch you?”

His eyes are wide, hands still clutching at the golden filigree of his throne. You can see every muscle in his neck taught and straining, balancing on the edge of his submission and his overwhelming need to fuck you.

“You may,” you moan, cupping his cheek, “but remember… you only come when I say… darling…”

His brows tweak, pained, but his hands rake up your arms, ghosting over your shoulders to cup your breasts. Even where your blood is drying yet.

You moan, the little teasing of his fingers making your honey drip even more over his shaft. It’s too much for you. So you sink onto that stiff and pulsing member. He bites his lip, clawing his fingers into your flesh, eyes half-lidded as he gives a muffled groan. His breathing is harsh. Unsteady. And you flash him a devious smile, just sitting on his lap, letting your belly stretch to fit that long length of his. “Shhh,” you wipe the sweat that’s formed on his pale brow, “wouldn’t want to have anything this sweet end so quickly.”

“Of course,” he pants. “Not when it’s so deliciously painful…” his brows furrow in agony.

“Oh, the pleasure will be…” you sigh heavily, “far greater than the pain…” his lips smirk as he hears his own words thrown back at him in your lustful voice. “Once I let you have that pleasure, of course…”

His hands tingle, featherlight as they skate up and and down your sides, he softly holds your arms, bringing them to his neck. Reverent, gentle, despite the inferno that rages behind his eyes. He places a kiss against your arm as you brace yourself on his shoulders. “Take your time, my treasure,” he groans as you treat him to a canting of your hips on his lap, “just don’t forget about me…”

“Never,” you groan, not at the way he fills you, but at how his arms wrap snugly around your waist. As if he can’t bring you any closer to him. You move, grinding up and down on him, riding that length as you look him square in the eyes. At how they glow, how they brim with unshed tears, so dilated and dark with his desire for you. At how the sweat begins to drip down his brows, his thin creases at the corners of his eyes deepening their grooves as he twists his face in relief. In the anticipation of his building pleasure.

But he barely blinks, that intensity boring into your soul. You bite your lips, riding the ridges of his cock through you, every sense of your body uniting with his as he gives you his everything. You can almost feel his ascended heart in his chest beating in yours.

Your fingers lock at the base of his neck, clawing into the silver tangles of his hair, even as it dampens with his sweat. You grind on him, keeping your pace agonizingly slow, his poor, neglected cock so hard and so thick, you know he’s not going to last long after what you’ve put him through.

But that only makes you smile harder, your breathing heavy between your grinning, slack lips.

“Hngf,” he groans as you give an extra hard slap of your cunt on him. “Please, my love,” he pants, nearly drooling with his unquenched lust. “You’ve had some fun…”

“Oh, just a little more,” you moan, “you wouldn’t deny me a little more fun, would you, my love?” You give a breathless laugh, reaching your hand around beneath you to grip those smooth, tight balls of his in your palm.

You feel him twitching inside you, his manhood in your palm so hard and tight. Ready to burst. After all, he has been good.

You look at his face, strained and red and sweating. You watch the way he can’t control his mouth, his tongue darting haphazardly over his teeth to lick his lips. His hips beneath you buck at random, hitching out of rhythm with how you ride his shaft. He has never been more handsome, your pleasure wave cresting at the mere sight of his unraveling.

“Please, please darling,” he’s panting, hand gripping so hard on your hips as you gyrate, you know he’s drawn blood. “You’re so good, so tight and wet. Please, let me come…”

You say nothing for a moment, letting your ears fill with the wet slap of your cunt on him. He begs you again, louder, his groans hurtling you into your own climax. You writhe. “Yes, darling,” you moan arching away from his chest. “Yes you may.”

His eyes go wide with your release, the centers so wide, so feral and unbridled. He shifts his ass to the edge, legs braced on the floor. Bouncing you, spearing you. Just that wild, growling, snapping desire is enough to shove you into orgasm. Every muscle grips around him deep inside you. You scream, pleasure tearing through you, but he doesn’t ease his pace.

No you’ve released him from his binds, set him free to fuck until he’s done. So you ride, you jounce, as he begins to hitch his pace. Arms clutch around your body, trapping you, supporting you as your own frame threatens to go limp in the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Astarion careens into you. “Thank you,” he moans, over and over again. His breathing rasps, fast and hot in your ear. Deafening you. Overstimulating you, making your neck and spine twitch as he slams into you over again. With one last grunt, the loudest of all, he fills you, the heat of his cum spurting and slipping out from your folds. “Thank you, darling…” he rests his head on your shoulder, an edge within him easing, slipping away.

Dissipating.

Dulling.

And then you feel him breathe. You can feel his heart beating into you as he holds you so tight.

Nothing but his absolute love, his submission, a pulsing rhythm between you. “That was…” he sighs, his breath cascading down your front.

“Delicious?” you offer, stroking your fingers through the damp curls of his silver hair.

He looks up slowly, eyes soft, that same subtle smile that you would see from before, the one that would play around his lips when it was just you two in those fleeting moments on the road. Those moments that made you both who you were. Just you and your rogue. “Precisely,” he purrs, catching your lips delicately in a kiss. “So delicious, I’m sure I’ll need another sampling…”

His kiss turns on the edge of a knife, consuming, tearing. All fangs and tongue in your mouth.

“Tut, tut,” you press your hands against his chest. “If you insist, then at least let me take you somewhere more.. comfortable. Somewhere I might spread you out… tie you up, for once.”

“Oh, darling,” he pouts his swollen lips with a langurous lick, “how could I say no?”

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Thank you for the reblogs, likes, kudos, and comments 🥰. You are truly all darlings!

My Master List for more Astarion naughtiness

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merakiui · 3 months

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madness of duke venomania, but it's azul. >:D women have started going missing in your village. no one knows what's happening. your lover (riddle) assures you that all will be well. he's here to keep you safe. you have nothing to fear.

and yet, in spite of that, you're the next lady to disappear.

azul, who has made a contract with a demon to make himself irresistible to all, is loved and revered in the manor in which he resides. hidden deep within the forest, it's a place no one knows of. women come, but they never go. it is here where he, who has never known the feeling, is loved. he's fancied at every hour. it's a marvelous thing. out of everyone in the harem, however, you're his favorite. his dearest darling. his sweet childhood friend. even when you mocked and ridiculed him, he thought you were the prettiest. you've since forgotten about him, having grown and matured into a wonderful lady. a lady who caught the eye of that red-haired royal tutor. but azul can forgive you and your forgetful nature. after all, he was a gross, ugly thing in his childhood—someone hardly memorable. of course you would forget him.

but now it's okay because he finally has you and all the affection he could ever want. you fall into bed with him, entangled sweetly in the sheets. you look at him like he hung the stars. you kiss him, embrace him, whisper all manner of saccharine things. you love him, so sickly enchanted that the thought of leaving him never crosses your mind. it can't. he won't allow it. you wear sheer, satin nightgowns for him and giggle when he trails his fingers up your arms to reach your shoulders, peeling the fabric off like he's unwrapping a gift. this sort of infatuation is silky-smooth, dubiously reciprocated, and yet with enough delusion it's real and raw.

riddle never gives up searching for you. he catches wind of rumors about a monster holed up in a mansion. could that be where you've gone? the locals whisper about it: a demon who can enchant and tempt even the most unwavering woman. riddle feels himself growing ill with every bit of information he learns. knowing what he must do, he dons a pretty dress, a wig, and some makeup. He hides a dagger within the frills of his gown, its blade glistening with a potent poison. he's determined. danger be damned; he'll find and save you.

azul embraces him like he does every woman, far too full of himself to realize the con. it's when he feels the sharp, stabbing pain in his abdomen that he draws away, his pompous façade failing. he looks on in horror, blood seeping through his clothes, as riddle tears the wig off to scowl at him. the vermillion-stained dagger is held tightly in his other hand.

oh. he was tricked.

azul collapses, his palms pressing against the wound in an effort to halt the bleeding. it's no use. the poison digs deep, a fatal foil. with the spell effectively broken the women, who were once so wrapped up in him—so ensorcelled—begin to flee. he watches them go, his expression twisted in pain. but nothing hurts more than when you step over him on the cold tiles, striding towards the door. azul reaches out for you with a blood-stained palm. he looks pitiful. weak. sad.

you turn to look at him. his eyes are wide and panicked, tears rolling down his cheeks in rivulets. he'll die alone here. you don't quite care.

with your hand sliding into riddle's, you scoff at him and turn away.

he begs you to wait, to come back, to listen to him. please... please don't leave him. don't go! he hasn't told you he loves you yet!

#meraki mumbles

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artethyst · 1 month

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~ Leaves In A Sky Full Of Stars ~

Eris Vanserra x Rhysand’s Sister!OC/Reader

“You know, I am High Lord.” Eris murmured against your exposed neck, “I could so easily decline the invitation-“

“No,” you grinned, moving his wandering hands to cup the ever so slight bump that rested above your womb- one that had turned Eris feral when it had finally made its hardly noticeable appearance days before. “We cannot keep it from them forever.”

“I can do as I please,” he retorted as you sighed, watching him in the large mirror you both were stood in front of.

“So can I.” You smirked. “You made me High Lady, remember? I have just as much power as you.”

“How could I ever forget…” He mumbled with a lazed smirk as you drank in the sight of him- dressed in fine maroon layers laced with gold, his crown perched lazily upon his auburn curls. He pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder, his veined hand splayed protectively over your growing babe.

“It is only one evening, I am sure even you can tolerate that,” you mused, straightening your vermillion skirts and joining your much smaller and softer hands over his. “No matter how you feel on the matter, Rhysand will still be their uncle.”

“No need to remind me,” Eris grimaced, his feelings for his brother-in-law still very much apparent after all those years.

The two males coming to some sort of unspoken agreement they would remain civil for the sake of the most treasured female in their lives.

“Is Big Bad Wolf of Autumn afraid of my older brother?” You began to laugh as he nuzzled his head against your collar as one of his hounds might. “Worried he might castrate you for impregnating his little sister?”

It was Eris’ turn to smirk then.

“Bunny, if that is what will bother him, I can assure him I have done far worse.”

You rolled your eyes, a light blush on your cheeks at the insinuation of his words, softening when he spun you around to force you to face him properly.

With his slender hand angling your chin, amber irises burning an impassioned fire through your own, there was nothing that could escape him.

Not even the small pout that had come to rest on your full lips. The ones he had to fight himself not to lose himself in right there and then.

“You know I only jest my Love, I will behave how you ask of me. Anything you desire-“

“I-It is not that,” you breathed, eyes brimming with tears you could only blame on the growing flame in your stomach. “It is just…”

“Tell me,” Eris’ usually composed face flickered with concern, his sharp brows pulling together in worry, his senses ever so more heightened since news of your newfound state broke. “Whatever is wrong I will resolve-“

“I miss my home,” your voice was shaky as you refused to meet your Mate’s eye, unable to bear the hurt that flickered across his face. “I…I miss my family, and…And times like these just remind me that my child will not be raised the same way.”

Eris did not know how to respond.

He would have liked to think he had made you feel comfortable in Autumn- that his home was just as much yours than anyone’s.

That if you ever wanted to leave, you would tell him- not that you ever had to. He never stopped you from visiting, hell, would always accompany you- begrudgingly, whenever you wished for him to

He would never be like that sorry bastard Tamlin and have you locked away.

Were his worst fears finally coming true? Had you realised what he had known all along? That he did not deserve you? That you should have never accepted the bond-

“Are…Are you not happy here?” He could not hide the disappointment in his tone. “If you wish to leave-“

“No, Eris,” your tears began to fall at the sight of him- so vulnerable, thinking that he could never be enough for you. “That is not what I mean I…I never wish to be apart from you again, you…You are my true home.” You felt worse when he began to comfort you, sending waves of love down the bond as he gently thumbed circles into your lower back, his gestures more delicate than ever since your pregnancy.

“Whatever you want, Bunny, I will ensure you have it,” his words were sincere and you couldn’t help but break into small sobs, knowing just how far he would go- the things he would sacrifice for you.

It might have terrified you once, but now you understood why. You understood because you would do the same for him.

“I just…I just wish things were different,” you knew he had been trying, that your brother had too, but tensions were still rife amongst the courts. With loyalist Advisors Eris had yet to wheedle out and men like Keir who respected your husband than his own High Lord, politics were never simple. “O-Our child will not be brought up with same customs, attend school with their cousins-“

“If that is what you wish who is to deny you, High-Lady?” You couldn’t help but laugh through your tears, melting into your husband’s arms as though his muscled chest was the only salvation from the rest of Prythian.

“No I…I-I want them to know of their heritage- this heritage. To be part of their own Court’s customs…Be like their father,” Eris couldn’t help the way his own heart tightened at that, having to remind himself if not by anyone else, you were proud of him. “I just…I just wish we could have both…”

“Who says we cannot, hmmm?” He wiped away your tears, thumb lingering beneath your glittering eye, the ones it had only taken him one look in to be hooked on for the rest of his breathing days. “I shall see to it we spend a quarter of our year in Velaris. We will have a family residence where our children will be able to live freely in such a place that is theirs too to call home.”

You noticed the way he had said children.

Plural.

Despite his anxieties, he subconsciously was hoping for more.

“B-But what about you? Your duties-”

“My Love, why do you think I have delegates? And what else is Lucien useful for if not performing tasks that are below me?” You scoffed at that as he chuckled, tucking a stray curl lovingly behind your ear.

And no matter how unsettled he felt in Night- the stares that would follow him, the distrust certain members of yours- now his by proxy, family still scathingly looked upon him with, he would stomach it.

He would compromise anything- everything to ensure your happiness.

“Is residing in my old apartment no longer good enough for you?” You let out, trying to lighten the mood. Chin coming to rest at his sternum, reminiscing of the times when the only way to see him was to sneak him through the wards of your private quarters.

“My darling, I would buy every property in that wretched place if it would bring back your smile.”

You poked him in the ribs as he groaned.

“You just wish to show off your riches and have us live in a grander estate than my brother’s…On his own land.”

“You know me too well, My Love.”

And so that night, when you broke the news, with happy tears from Feyre and Cassian, drunken squeals from Mor (who had already known) and crushing embraces from Azriel and even Nesta, Rhysand did not have the heart to slight Eris.

And in return, neither did your Mate.

A warm smile on his hardened face as you tried to explain to a babbling Nyx- who couldn’t understand a thing, that he was to have a cousin. Watching you flourish with a new glow, surrounded by your family- surrounded by love in your childhood home.

Your home which you had opened to him.

#fanfic #acotar #acotar fic #acotar x oc #acotar x reader #eris acotar #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x oc #eris vanserra x reader #eris x oc #eris x reader

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garoujo · 2 years

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WHERE THEY LIKE TO FINISH — GENSHIN IMPACT

feat : diluc, childe, itto, kazuha + xiao

♱ warnings — f!reader, cumshots, creampies, not proof read, multiple / overstimulation orgasms in itto’s, some drool, some biting, blow jobs.

♱ note — cannot get this out of my head + neow here we are i hope u enjoy :’> im feeling a lil burnt out and i wrote these w a headache so i hope they’re not too bad . . . </3

・✶ ｡ﾟDILUC RAGNVINDR

something carnal twists in diluc’s stomach when he sees the way your pretty face looks covered in his cum. the way the milky liquid clings to your skin and how cute you look when your tongue clears away what you can reach followed by a loud swallow — and he can’t deny the way he feels his heavy cock twitch alive once more at the sight.

diluc is slumped in his quarters at the dawn winery as you kneel between his thighs, pumping spit along his heavy cock while your tongue does mindless, intoxicating swirls around the sensitive head that have his gloved hands digging into the wooden arms of his chair — grunting when you close your lips around the head and suckle. “i—fuck, i wont last long.” he groans, rough and low as his head falls back against the chair, his broad chest expanding with the deep inhale he takes in order to control himself, but you make him lose all of that when he feels you sink yourself down onto him once more.

he feels your throat squeeze around him, feeling you swallow and slurp, and the way your tongue is tracing along the veins and sensitive nerves of his cock has his whole body tingling before he’s groaning once more, his voice coming out a lot needier than he’d expected as his large hand cups the back of your neck before he squeezes with another lewd slurp from you. “g-god—i’m gonna cum.” diluc rasps, shifting restlessly in his chair and the way you pull back from him is wet as your spit catches, clinging to the ivory skin of his cock.

you twist your wrist as you send him a doe-eyed, glassy look when his heavy, vermillion gaze meets yours — pumping his cock for all its worth with rough strokes of your palm until he’s cumming with a bright blush and a trembling groan, eyes trained on you when the first rope of his cum streaks along your cheeks. you drag your tight fist slow across diluc’s cock to help him through it, hearing soft praises pour from his lips as each deep throb of his orgasm lands messy along your pouty lips and skin, before he’s tucking his fingers under your jaw and tilting your face up to admire you. “beautiful.”

・✶ ｡ﾟTARTAGLIA / CHILDE

childe loves how pretty your pussy looks when it’s soaked in his cum, every deep throb of his orgasm making a mess between your thighs as he watches the way your pussy clenches in the remnants of your tingling pleasure — the orgasms he’d pulled from you before he’d let himself have his own and seeing you like this almost feels like his trophy.

“look how pretty you look, you’re doing so well for me.” childe hums, a teasing lull to his voice despite the way he feels like he’s losing himself in you, in the needy coax of your pussy and the push and pull of your body—everything about you made him feel weak but you were all his. the way you’re clinging to him, crying out “a—ajax! more.” makes him feel dizzy and you look so pretty when you’re moaning for him, your body jolting underneath him as each of his quick thrusts render your breathless.

you squeal when you feel childe’s fingers trace towards your bodies, rubbing sticky circles into your puffy clit and your pussy throbs when he pairs it with the back and forth stutter of his hips, until your breathing is skipping and he presses his hips deep into yours. the first too much touch of his cock thrusts you into a mind-numbing orgasm as you twist beneath him, the first milking compression of your walls making him whimper before he’s growling at the thick ring of cream gathering around the base of his cock everytime he draws his hips back.

“t-that’s it, shit—you’re too sweet. my turn, pretty girl—uhhh, fuck!” childe groans, scratchy and breathless as he loses himself in the fluttering pull of your pussy, pulling out almost a second too late before his pretty fingers are wrapping around the base of his cock and he finally lets the hot rush of his own bliss consume and swallow him whole. it only takes a few languid strokes of his palm before he’s throbbing, shooting robes of his creamy load along your glistening folds as his jaw clenches, hissing through his teeth between grunted curses while he watches his cum pool along your messy cunt. “oh, i could look at you like this all day, sweetheart.”

・✶ ｡ﾟARATAKI ITTO

it’s almost complete carnal instinct the desire itto feels to see your pussy completely full of his cum, sending you a starry-eyed glance when he watches it pour out of your spent walls and the way his still hard cock twitches between your thighs even after his nth orgasm makes you feel dizzy. but you know he’s not done when you hear him growl, hooking your thighs around his thick waist.

every wet withdrawal of itto’s hips is so fucking loud and each deep thrust of his cock feels like it reaches even deeper with every heavy clap of his hips against yours, a moan of his name kicking against your chest and you feel like you’re losing your mind at the thick spread of his cock. but you know he’s nowhere near done when he sends you a bright grin, groaning when another sharp thrust pushes out more of his cum from your sensitive, puffy walls as he splits you open for the nth time that night. “oh yeah, there’s d-definitely some room in there for one more, fuck—don’t ya think, babe?”

you don’t even have it in your mind to reply with the way youre crumbling under each of itto’s thrusts, he’s fucking you completely boneless and dumb and you’re pretty sure the blunt head of his cock should be purple by now with how many times he’s cum. but the way he grabs at you is still needy as he moans your name, pressing against the swollen spots inside of you with every wet connection of his hips that’s driven by the brute strength in his heavy body. “pussy was fuckin’ m-made for me, yeah it was—and fuck, does it feel s-so good.”

your walls throb with every unforgiving push of his hips and your orgasm washes over you quickly with how sensitive you still are, the sudden squeeze around itto’s cock making his pace stutter before he’s gritting his teeth and pushing another thick, heavy load inside of you with another long, agonised grunt. the lewd squelching noises when he sinks into you drives him fucking wild as he ruts into you like some wild animal, drooling shamelessly along your cheeks when he curls over you to pin you completely — primitive instincts taking over as he continues to fuck into your messy pussy until theres cum smeared along his pelvis. “o-one more, babe—come on, one more.”

・✶ ｡ﾟKAEDEHARA KAZUHA

kazuha was obsessed with the way your tits felt beneath his palms, taking low, languid handfuls of your breasts as he fucked into you but what he loved more was how they looked when they were covered in his cum — the sticky liquid pooling along your skin as you send him a starry-eyed glance and fuck you’ve never looked prettier.

kazuha’s jaw clenches before a breathier croon of your name falls from his lips, his thumb tracing mindlessly along the sensitive buds of your tits as he sinks his cock into your pussy. but the pace of his hips only gets needier with the way youre clenching around him tighter everytime he rocks forward, leaving red marks along the ivory skin of his shoulders with your nails. the way he’s palming and groping at your tits makes you feel dizzy when it’s followed by his cock grazing along your swollen spots, your vision feeling cloudy as your thrusted head first closer into your own overwhelming ecstasy.

“g-gonna cum, kazu!” you squeal and you hear kazuha chuckle breathlessly with a “go ahead, baby.” when he deliberately grinds his pelvis against your clit, until he feels the first intoxicating throb of your pussy around him. you feel warmth burst along your thighs and stomach when the tight coil finally bursts, and you feel him press his hips into yours before he’s squeezing your tits beneath his palms once more, groaning as he fucks you through your orgasm before he’s pulling back from you suddenly.

“come here, p-please.” kazuha rasps as his slender fingers grab around the base of his cock, twisting his wrist with a few quick strokes as you shuffle towards him and press your tits together just how you know he likes. that’s all it takes for him to come undone, the warmth of his cum streaking along your skin with the first throb of his cock against his palm as he whimpers, sucking his lower lip between his teeth before his biceps are quaking on the next pull, more of his thick load landing along your sensitive nipples. he’s fucked out when he finally lets his cock fall soft between his legs, but not before he’s taking another handful of your breast to smear his cum along the skin. “they look beautiful like this.”

・✶ ｡ﾟXIAO

he couldn’t help that he was so sensitive and the way your tongue feels around him made him weak, the way he’d fall boneless beneath you as you slurped and suckled kisses along the base had his mind reeling, the sudden urge to cum down your throat almost seeming foreign to him but he liked how you always let him indulge.

“g-god, dont s-stop.” xiao breathes, an unsteady waver to his voice as he tries to suppress just how needy he is when he feels your tongue swirl around the sensitive folds of his cock. the way you trail it along the slit, pressing suckling kisses along the sides and swirl it around the sensitive folds making his hips twitch before he’s twisting his hands into the dual-coloured tones of his hair. you’re intoxicating and the way you bring him to his knees is dangerous, but he can’t help but crave that feeling whenever he’s away from you.

seeing the conqueror of demons like this was truly addictive if you were honest, to watch the way he flushes to his chest and the way his lips part to pant softly when you push his cock down the tight tunnel of your throat once more, watching his heavy eyes blink down at you when he feels your tongue trace messy circles along the sides. “i’m going t-to—k-keep going.” xiao grunts before another low whimper of your name is falling from his lips and the sound makes you hum around him, making his hips twitch forward at the sudden stimulation and he hisses, grunting sharply when his orgasm catches you both off guard.

“l-like that, take it.” xiao whines deeply, his voice cracking as his cock throbs against your tongue and he’s cumming down the tight give of your throat. you pull back a little at the sudden rush, allowing yourself a proper taste as you slurp and swallow around his throbbing tip, tongue swirling along the pulsing veins before you feel his palm cup the back of your neck, trembling with each deep throb he feels in his gut as he keeps you in place. his hips twitch in time with each swipe of your tongue and you watch his abdomen tighten before you’re pulling away with a wet, popping sound and blinking up at him as he tries to cover his deep flush behind his arm. “quit staring.”

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed#genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact x you #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #childe smut #diluc x reader #diluc smut #itto x reader #itto smut #xiao x reader #xiao smut #kazuha x reader #kazuha smut #arataki itto x reader #arataki itto smut

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thecuriousquest · 9 months

Note

Hii can i request a platonic yandere bakugo fic where where kastuki where his parents are hosting a foreig exchange student and while there living there kastuki keep trying to get them to refer to him as their brother? Reader is polite but doesn’t interact with them much tyy 💕💕

Have No Fear, Nii-Chan’s Here

Tag List: @issamomma

Warnings: Platonic yandere themes, threats of violence, almost drowning, injury, open wound, blood

Checkout my Master List here.

—————————————————————————

You cross the threshold of the Bakugou household. You came all the way from America to be hosted by them in the foreign exchange student program.

“You really didn’t have to do that. I could have gotten the heavy stuff,” you try to tell Katsuki and his father.

“Shut up. Don’t worry about it. Wouldn’t want your arms falling or anything.”

Grumbling something under your breath about not being weak, you observe that he has a really weird way of showing concern.

“Oh, Katsuki, you can just leave it right there.”

He shoots you a glare before telling you to follow him. “Come on. I’ll show you where your room is.” He takes the other bag from his father and hauls everything up the stairs with ease.

It makes you feel useless as you trail up the steps behind him.

When you reach the room, you look around at it. It’s a spacious room, much bigger than yours at home.

“Look, if you’re gonna be staying here, I don’t want you calling me by my name. I think it would be better if you called me something else.”

You turn to face him with a cocked brow. “What exactly do you want me to call you if not your name?”

“‘Big Brother’. You could also call me ‘Big Bro’, but I like the first one better.”

You giggle a bit until you realize how serious he is. “What? No, I’m not calling you that.”

His expression morphs. His lips are slightly downturned, and his vermillion eyes narrow at you in slits.

“I wasn’t really asking.”

Just then, like a saving grace, his mother’s not-so-angelic voice shrieks for Bakugou to help her with something downstairs.

He rolls his eyes and stalks out of the room with his hands in his pockets. “Lucky you. Don’t think we’re finished with this conversation,” he throws over his shoulder before slamming your door shut behind him.

You can hear him shout behind the barrier to his mother, “WHAT, YOU HAG?!”

You sit down on the bed, pondering about how angry you made him just by disagreeing with the situation. You don’t want to call him your brother because he’s not your family. Your family is at home in America, and right now, you want nothing more than to go back because his cutting glare really bothers you.

———

On Friday, you have two weeks left before school starts. Sitting on the couch, flipping through your book for a specific page, you see a hand grab your book and pull it away from you.

“Hey, that’s mine!” you yell as you try to snatch it back from him.

“Shut up, brat. I’m just trying to see what you��re reading.”

When you tire yourself out from trying to get the book back, you cross your arms and pout. “What does it matter to you?”

“Just want to make sure it’s age appropriate. Can’t have you filling your head with garbage. Eh, seems alright for you.” He tosses the book on your lap and takes a seat beside you.

“Katsuki, can you go somewhere else? You’re distracting me.”

Looking at your book, you don’t register his anger until his voice comes out restrained through clenched teeth. “What did I tell you about calling me that? Are you stupid or something?”

“I am not stupid! Don’t you dare ever call me that again. You know what? I’ll just go to my room because you’re obviously not going to go anywhere.”

You try to leave the room, only to have Bakugou grab you by your shoulders and turn you back around to face him. He shoves you against the corner walls, trapping you.

Bakugou raises his hand, but not to strike you. You flinch and squeeze your eyes closed. You keep waiting for a sting on your cheek, a ring in your ear, something painful. However, none of it comes.

Opening your eyes, you see small explosions going off on his palm.

“You see that? Call me by my name again, and I’ll light your ass on fire.”

So, you decided not to call Katsuki anything at all. You decided you wouldn’t even interact with him. Over the next few days, every time he would walk into the room, you would leave. Every conversation he attempts to start with you goes ignored. It infuriates him, but it’s the only way you can manage to get any peace.

———

A few days later on Monday, Mitsuki asks if you’d like to go to the community pool with Bakugou sometime during the week.

You smile awkwardly, telling them that you’re not a fan of the pool.

“Oh, really? Why’s that?” She queries.

“Well, I just don’t know how to swim.”

An idea begins to form in his head, and Katsuki wraps an arm around you playfully and says, “Don’t worry, Nii-chan’ll teach you how to swim.”

You smile politely so as not to cause any trouble, but you mentally put your foot down. There’s no way in hell anyone could get you to go swimming.

———

Katsuki drags you all the way there. “Quit struggling. It’ll be fun.”

“I don’t want to!” you huff at him as you set your things down on the chair.

“Alright fine. Pout all you want. I’m getting out of this heat.” He dives into the pool.

To you, it actually looks pretty fun. You wish you could swim.

Looking around, you notice that you and Katsuki are the only ones here. It’s inevitable that the adults are at work since it is a regular Tuesday, meaning their kids are probably sleeping in if they’re teenagers or at daycare if they’re too young. You’re only surprised that there isn’t a lifeguard on the clock.

Sitting on the ledge, you watch Katsuki swim. You two even end up chatting for some time. He splashes you playfully, and you laugh while kicking water at him. For the first time since you’ve been at the Bakugou household, you start to relax. Maybe, Katsuki isn’t so bad after all.

He gets out of the pool to get a drink from the vending machine. He turns to you, dripping with water as he grabs some coins from his wallet.

“You want anything?” He asks you.

“No thanks. I brought my water bottle.”

When he comes back, he’s had enough of you being such a scardy cat. With the sole of his foot on your back, he pushes you into the deep end. You struggle to stay afloat, flailing your arms about as you try to gain purchase.

“Katsuki!” You sputter chlorine infused water as your head dips below the surface.

He crouches down. “You want my help? You know what to say.”

How could he do this to you? How could he use something like this to his advantage just to give him a title that’s not even his?! If you want to live, you have to swallow your pride.

“Big Brother, he-help!” Too much water goes into your mouth, and you end up coughing fervently.

He dives into the deep end, wraps an arm around your stomach, swims to the ladder, and helps you out. He pats your back to help you cough up more water.

Once you’re settled and the shock of what just happened wears off, you try to run away from Katsuki. You end up tripping, and a giant abrasion forms along the front of your knee and shin. Crying out in pain, you hold your leg as the throbbing burn takes over. There’s blood spilling from the gash, and you can’t get yourself to breathe through it.

Katsuki picks you up in his arms and carries you the entire way home. Once there, he gets the first aid supplies ready. He fixes up your wound, making sure to treat you with caution.

“Don’t try to run off on me like that again. Kay?”

“Okay, Kat-”

He presses down on your knee with the worst pressure imaginable.

“Okay, Big Brother! I’m sorry, stop!”

He lets go of your leg and leans forward. “Remember that all of this could have been avoided if you had just been good and called me that in the first place.”

Nodding, you can see the scarlet liquid begin to bleed through the gauze. It’s terrifying knowing that one of your hosts did this to you, maybe not directly, but he’s the cause of it. For fuck’s sake, you almost drowned because of him.

He rustles your hair with his fingers in a playful manner before taking his hand away. “If you behave, then we can get along pretty well. If not, well…” He taps your wrapped leg. “You know what can happen.”

It takes a lot for you to utter the words he wants to hear. “Yes, Big Brother.”

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #triggering content #triggering themes #yandere themes #my hero acedamia #boku no hero academia #mha katsuki #bnha katsuki bakugou #yandere katsuki #yandere katsuki bakugou #platonic yandere #yandere big brother #platonic yandere bakugou

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twilighttheater · 1 year

Text

Seems like Vermillion keeps showing up by chance in his life lately, running into him abruptly, looking into suspicions in Flicker Town, and now in passing he catches a live match happening in Paldea on TV. Again it feels like looking at a slightly off mirror, and now he has more to back that up.

To call him curious over how Vermillion battles would be an understatement however, and he doesn’t disappoint by any means. But though he does come out as the victor at the end of it, he doesn’t look happy about it.

Are you bored with this? He wonders, it had taken awhile for that boredom to set in with him. But then again with all that he’d read... it made a bit more sense for him to be fast-tracked onto that lack of enthusiasm.

Was it worth it to be commended by him? He’s not even sure, but it’s there nonetheless. He would’ve said so if he was able to contact him.

#kantoblood #hey I heard that! 💬 dash commentary #don't let that burning image fall down upon me 🔥 red #bittersweet revelations; let the mirror come alive 🔥 red & vermillion (kantoblood)#meanwhile somewhere else in the world dad says hi

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keikiri-kitten · 1 year

Text

first time for everything ꙳⸌♡⸍꙳ k. bakugou

warnings: +18, smut, oral (m! receiving), prohero! bakugou, adult bakugou, virgin bakugou, nb reader

a/n: this is my first time writing an oral sex piece -- especially fucking bakugou ;-;, so i am open to criticism. i tried to write this with the sensation and thoughts that bakugou was feeling rather than the reader just because i wanted to lmao. this is also not properly proofread, i will come back to fix that! enjoy!

word count: 1.4k

“i’m assuming you thought you’d never get this far.”

you both never thought that you would get here. both of you posted in his kitchen in the wee hours of the morning with only a pale white light above the stove to help you see. while you never thought you would be giving a blowjob to prohero dynamight (who you also somehow bagged as your boyfriend), he never would have thought he’d have anyone who would genuinely want to.

thinking about a virgin, prohero katsuki who clams up now that you’re kneeling down in front of him. a katsuki whose eyes are wide and still as they stare into yours for some sort of permission. maybe he wants permission to be vulnerable? you’re right underneath his nose yet he’s running over how he got this far when he was used to shoujo mangas and porn. this is a different playing field and he is absolutely a rookie. the vermillion in his eyes is practically glowing as he’s overheating from the inside. he’s standing tall and tense and at this point, he can feel his heart beating in his chest and his skin burning in anticipation. there you are; patient and willing to go at any pace that katuski’s ready to take. your hands trail up his thighs over his gray sweats slowly, spotting the firm cock in his hand twitch.

katsuki swears he’s never been more flustered in his life, “no.” his voice broke out into the atmosphere of the room, cracking and forcing his cheeks to go red. you can tell by his response that the typical rose tinted glasses he had on around you were now red and tinted with lust. “I didn’t.” while his voice is calm, he isn’t in the slightest. you can tell because every time he gets flustered around you, his voice loses that rough scratch and becomes smooth and quiet. it’s captivating, honestly.

his breath hitches while he breathes in and only comes out in short or weak puffs. there’s a sudden sharp breath that he sucks in as his eyes dart towards your hands. “of course you didn’t.” you could spot his tongue quickly graze over his chapped, rosy lips.

“shut up.”

“you know you can always make me, right?” he brushes your comment off with an eye roll. the hero’s jaw relaxes for a brief moment before he grips his cock a bit tighter in his hand. anything he was ready to do, you were ready to do. choking out a groan, the head of his heavy cock runs along your lips. this scene was erotic enough for him. tapping it along your lips, his head nudges up subconsciously while his jaw falls. you to part your lips for him. the hero cracked out a hum as the blushing, sensitive head of his cock ran along your skin. the slit was already glistening with excitement. “i would love it if you could make me.”

allowing himself to sink into your mouth builds up this feeling of anxiety that no villain could even get out of him. his nose turns up at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth. he never felt anything like it. sending his back against the wall, his eyes flash to the ceiling before his fingers slide in your hair. katsuki tries so hard to breathe correctly. he thought he had this. if he could handle the palm of his hand or his trusty fleshlight, why wouldn’t he be able to remain calm in your mouth? that would be ridiculous! however, you can spot his chest rising and falling through his hoodie. he doesn’t pick up on full he just might be in your mouth until you gag. you gag and that feeling can’t end for him. a thick hand slips from your hair and behind your neck to keep you there. katsuki’s a selfish man who simply doesn’t care or even think about your need to breathe. neither did you. not when your boyfriend’s breath picks up and every exhale includes a moan. you love it. you live for it.

you also love the way he suddenly pulls your hair, yanking your head back. it allows you to gently graze your teeth under his shaft. if he wants to play, you both could play, yes? katsuki chokes out broken whine. “fuck,” he bites, eyes shutting tight with his hips jutting closer to your face. he likes it. for a moment his life falls into a blur. there’s no need to think if you were willing to do the work for him. ‘just take it and don’t cum too fast’ is the motto. he admires you with his hands carefully brushing any hair from your face. dynamight loves to chase your mouth; rolling his hips and pushing his cock deeper because a second away from you is a second too long.

there’s so many things you’re doing to him that he can’t even try to comprehend. he can feel your tongue toy with the head of his cock and his whole body twitches. when you start gagging his toes start curling. and he’s begging for it— physically. you can see it in the way his face twists in pleasure and frustration or feel it when his hips become more erratic while trying to work with you pace.

the blond finds himself struggling for a solid breath. one thing about katsuki was that the heat never really bothered him. until this moment. his body is getting warm and his skin is clamming up under the fabric he’s wearing. it’s an uncomfortable feeling but he doesn’t want it to end. his cock twitches between your lips and of course you aren’t letting up in the slightest. it’s almost aching at this point for some sort of release. that familiar tense feeling is creeping up all over his body. katsuki’s breaths are harsh and sharp as he looks down at you with the most pitiful eyes. “fuck,” he grumbles. red eyes are chasing all over your face when he realizes that the feeling is getting far too intense to sit by idly. his mouth is open and he wants to speak. he wants to tell you that he’s about to cum but he can’t. you wouldn’t be able to make out a single thing he said even if he tried.

you can spot his lip quivering before tightening his lips together. the hero is scrunching his nose and trying not to explode but looking at you makes the task difficult. lifting his back off the wall, one hand gripped the counter while the other covered his mouth. each exhale came out in a string of grunts and groans. he was pitiful— simply miserable being so vulnerable but he also never felt as good as he does at the moment. watching him, you can see his eyes cross. then you could feel it. katsuki’s body stiffens up so much you assume he lost all functioning of it as he filled your cheeks. the only thing that’s moving on him is his thighs that are literally shivering.

in all honesty you don’t know what’s supposed to make his cum so much different than any other you’ve experienced. it’s hot and thick. the only exception? it tasted far better than what you’ve had before.

the more you think about how he tastes, the less you actually realize that his body has already calmed down. not until his cock lazily fell from your mouth. he lowers his body to the ground to rest on his knees and get a good look into your eyes. stealing glances of one another, katsuki can see how messy your face really is. you notice how red his face is. he refuses to properly look you in the eyes. “don’t swallow—“

katsuki’s face loses all expression as he watches you do exactly that simply because he told you not to. it was a nice way to measure to see how out of it he still is. saying nothing, he cups your cheeks with his hands that are actually burning before feeling his lips melt on yours. he wants to take in everything; your swollen lips, your weak kiss from your exhausted jaw and the taste of him left on your tongue. pulling away from you always feels like a crime after kissing you, but if there was one thing the blond didn’t have, it was a proper breath.

“how did that feel? did you like that?”

“it sure as hell wasn’t bad.” he snaps, which only makes you laugh.

#katuski bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugo #bakugou #bakugou smut #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou drabble #birdieboom #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo smut #pro hero dynamight #bakugou headcanon

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qvrcll · 10 months

Note

I ALWAYS GIGGLE WHENEVER I READ PREGGY READER X LEON AND YOUR WRITING IS JUST *CHEFS KISS* . AND I JUST HAVE ONE IN MINDFFDDD

So it goes by Leon(i suggest the re4r, cuz he such a pookie😍) and the reader being in a long term relationship, however due to some reasons they broke up. A month later, they were partnered for a mission, and while they were on a mission, they were like so awkward. Not until the reader was slowing down and can't run that much which made leon a bit worried. And the thing is the reader doesn't even know that she's pregnant (OMGGG, IMAGINE THAT THEY ALREADY RESCUED ASHLEY, AND ASHLEY WAS THE ONE WHO TOLD HER THAT SHE MIGHT BE PREGNANT.)

(i need to reconnect with nature im going feral with leon)

wish i was good, wish that i could

summary: following leon’s absence, you fall into a damning pattern. a cycle of something worth nothing. and as you’re paired with him on a mission, everything professional is boiled into that broken, hurting night.

warnings: nsfw mentioned, mentions of vomit / throwing up, pregnancy, major angst / comfort, re4r!leon in mind

warnings: i really don’t know if i hate this or like it, because i was sort of burnt out but this turned out a whole lot angstier than i expected. but i hope u enjoy my dear!! :-]

It’s December when Leon leaves you for good, shatters what imminent ‘thing’ you had calibrated within each other’s sheets, messy and marked with pleasure against the weekend, with your bodies having memorised each scar, each virgule and stir that made your belly itch with that wonted release.

And yet, he tears the warmth of that — those late night, unlabelled presses in the name of a swift, empty sort of business that flushed into a thick-skinned, scary love — in the middle of the night. His boots are lined with some dirt, his jacket sheening with a stain he can’t bother to name, but his fingers are numb and burry with an odd feeling, something that comes and drifts within the crack of his touch, when his hand grips your front door.

And he’s so close.

So close to finding reprieve of this suffocating feeling scratching the vermillion, milky flesh that nested deep against his bones when you called in the night, when you played with the mess of blonde hairs on his head, when your touches meant more than just baseless acquittal.

So close to abandoning this itching feeling that he’s not the right body for you to hold — that he’s rotten and crushed to the bone. Ugly and ill-fit for you to love, not explore with slender fingers. And when your fingers prod against the flesh of his heart, he flinches. Realises, curses and escapes like he’s known best.

And yet, he pauses, clenches his jaw as the rub of your feet squeak against the wood of your apartment floor.

“Leon…?” your voice calls, nimble and picked apart by sleep. Something heavy, he presumes, because he’s counted your breaths, donned them in corollaries in the dead of night and attempted to forget them, mark them as dead on his skin in the same night — but he curses, laughs dryly against his own skin as his heart spikes in the vibrance of your laugh, knowing he’s cursed himself.

“It’s nothing… go back to bed,” he says, says your name later. The chill of him is fresh and unfamiliar, contrasting the heavy night you’d shared with fluctuating breaths and the collision of skin, hot and messy and unapologetic. And yet, he’s collected himself up on staggering bones, marked like chalk and a brittle little thing, as he turns to face you with something grim in his voice, “I need some time alone.”

“What?” there’s ten steps separating the two of you, and you hark any attempt to near him. He feels like he stings. Burns, with that gush of coldness about him.

Still, you need to ask.

“What is it?”

And your breath is bordering on frantic, as you squint, try to find him in the darkness. Try to draw him against your fingers, feel him against your skin and against the cartilage in your chest, deep-seated like a muscle you cannot renounce. But he’s slipping, cleaving against the meat of your chest as something evil, something entirely him in nature.

And it scares you.

“Leon—“

“Just—go to sleep,” he repeats, his tone firm. Some part of him regrets ever coming. Ever answering the frequent ring of your calls in the dead of night. Regrets, in his own mind, the swelter of your fingers against every bare inch of him there is to name. And yet, his body warms at the thought. Tenses, shrivels to nothing at all as he turns to the door.

“Leon, whatever you’re doing, stop,” your voice cracks, somewhere in the middle, parting against the choke that fights up your throat, “Please—just come back to bed.”

The tremble of your voice.

The blink in your step.

The shake in your all.

He notes it all. Commits it to memory. Shames himself for the beginning of it. Prevails it till the end.

His eyes are back on you — two searing beads of cobalt fleshing against you like something sour. Something bloody and bruised. Something spelling ‘penance’ in all the wrong letters.

“Good-night,” he says. Your name, he calls out. And he’s out of the door before you can fight against him to stop.

It’s several weeks after that you muster the courage to ring his line again — some part of you melts against the wooden counter, grips the pliable telephone like a vice in your clammy hands, your heart in your throat as you wait for his voice to smudge against the crackling rings.

And yet, he doesn’t pick up.

You’re hard on yourself for some time later — hard on the fact that you’d assuaged such a war on yourself to not notice his fleeting habituation, his warmth against the click of your knuckles on darkening days slipping into a filthy line of disillusionment as you return to your home. Empty, crawling with the smell of his noisome departure.

And on the other side of something familiar, Leon suffers all the same. That crawling, desperate feeling you’d implemented in him has scratched a dam him, bled him raw and filthy on the tile of his bathroom floor as he gathers the mess of himself with shaky hands. He glances at himself in the mirror, tries to determine just where the man he knew himself to he had lammed.

His ears ring.

His fingers flinch with the bite of his basin.

His eyes sink with a brutal feeling.

He misses you.

Weeks pass and you’re starting to forget the feel of him — the smell of his hair leaves you, the stretch of his smile now strange and off-putting. You mark it down to repulsion, to seething hatred, but you determine the lie in it.

You miss Leon like you miss anything, with the sheer strength of your dying love.

And it’s strange, you think, as you find yourself hunched against the toilet, releasing this morning’s breakfast with little restraint. The choke of it in your throat disgusts you, as the thought of Leon’s touch lingering in this bathroom does too, in frequencies of its own.

And you haven’t gotten half the heart to press the issue.

It’s a month without any form of contact and you’ve lost the smell of him, the touch of him. The thought of him comes as a bore, you fool yourself. The severity of his vision deep like an ocean you’d nearly killed yourself with remembering — and yet, on strange nights, you think of him. Think of the spit of his bones and muscles, of his kindness. Of his habit to mull things over till they were rotten and ugly beyond any chance of reprieve.

It’s a month without any strength in his bones, with which Leon carves a hole into the bed with his weight — he feels aimless, carding through the days with ill health. The alcohol cuts just enough for him, and the food he eats is takeaway. Foreign places, none of those familiar cuisines you would order late into the night.

The thought of it makes him sick.

Makes him choke with guilt and the thought of ‘what if?’

He goes to sleep a ghost against the sheets.

It’s some months when you ditch the self-sorry act in which you brand yourself over the days with — Hunnigan’s line rings once, twice and she picks up with a familiarity in her voice.

Ain’t that easy, you think bitterly.

It’s regular business — she greets you, debriefs you, informs you of the nights callings and of the days prior. Your leave from the enforcement has cost you a flitting pile of work and yet, Hunnigan finds it in herself to press the issue of your health first. She doesn’t know what’s happened between you and Leon, but she knows you. And she knows you in a sense that made the hurt burn like fresh skin, like a wound too bloody to heal.

“And… how are you?” she asks. You answer, something mandated. Something unconsciously revised by your system and yet, she rejects the bait, “How are you, really?

And you cry into the line. Fuel the crackle with the guise of your tears as you dry-heave. The spill of him seeps through your bones, drags memories apart that have longed their stay, that have bided to burn you for good.

And she listens.

She soothes.

She curses him out in the name of everything good, and a dry chuckle leaves you as the poke of everything familiar marks the undercurrents of everything new.

Leon is informed of the mission like it’s something to commit to the bit by. The days training are gruelling and he’s in for a bitter joke when the world is placed on his shoulders — maybe it could’ve been something humorous, but when Hunnigan mentions the word ‘partner,’ he freezes over.

“Partner?” he whispers into the line, baffled. Mulling the idea within his thickset fingers.

“Yes, partner. They will accompany you on your mission to save ‘Baby Eagle’ when the time is right,” Hunnigan replies, leaves no room for reply, “This is final. I’m sorry, Leon.”

He supposes he should be upset, but he’s just perturbed. The idea of a partner comes foreign to him and yet, his brain forces the outline of you against the thought of it. It presses your flesh against his teeth and the smell of your skin when it came to him in bits in pieces.

He feels you like he has for the first time.

He remembers you like he still has you.

He bites his tongue, resumes his activities because the flesh of you is not to keep — it’s just for him to think of when the night darkens into a cold fog too delirious to not think of much at all.

The wait is gruelling.

You’re sweat-marked, ill and pale around the cheeks as you exit the bathroom again. You cannot possibly fathom the prospect of food poisoning on a third-week round, and yet, you feel yourself regurgitating much of it. There’s an inclusion of odd combinations you try; pickles and chocolate, orange juice and noodles. It makes you wonder, makes you think.

And yet it never presses for longer than a moment — nothing to catalyse into concern.

It’s 8’oclock, and the chill of the night is a reminder of your mortality — your arm is caught on the couch arm and your legs are perched against the opposite part of it. Your television blurs with unfamiliar faces, flitting names and tones, and you’re struck with something familiar, deep-set in your bones like fury.

And in a second, you’ve dragged the land-line in your lap, typing his number like the way you breathe.

Tomorrow could very well be your last.

Could be nothing.

It could all go to shit and he wouldn’t know.

He’s got to know.

Your finger dials. You press the cold device to your ear.

You panic. Bite before you breathe. Shut it off and head to bed.

He doesn’t have to know.

You’re being briefed by Hunnigan when you think you’ve been struck dumb by lightning — everything crumbles to less than a resolve when she informs you that you’d be partnered with a fellow agent on the mission.

“Hunnigan, please,” you plead, beg past your teeth as you press the ear piece in closer. Try to determine whether or not she would swing in your favour; maybe botch the appropriate documents and have you work this mission to find Ashley Graham on your own. Maybe then, you’d find some moment of reprieve. Some time to keep the pieces to yourself and not dish it out to strangers in the name of small talk.

But Hunnigan is stone solid in her resolve, as she tracks her glasses higher against her face.

“I can’t change this — sorry. And, good-luck” she says. And her voice is foreign as it’s lost in the whirr of the transporting vehicle that reminds you of where you stand.

You think you go insane with the sight of him.

It all rushes in like a surge in a barge — his smell is intoxicating, metallic in a tinge that’s so upsetting it makes the bone hurt, makes it throb in something you deny wholly. His face is stoic, carded with indifference and yet, it is the one familiar thing in the car, two visionary pools that drown out the prior restriction you had held — perhaps, replaced it for the incredible awkwardness as you try to press yourself into the car door. Maybe even try to plummet out of the window itself, safe yourself the awful taste of his absence so clearly in the molten air.

“Long time no see” you say, your lips carving into something deliciously awkward. Sombre. He glances at you, eyes pinning all feeling against the flagstones you thought you’d destroyed with your own flesh and yet they persist. Persist as the ground he seems to so senselessly drag himself across — like a wounded thing, a creature of pity.

“It’s nice to see you,” he says, because what else does he do? Blink? Breathe? Because that is all he’s been crushing into the empty silence. To try to fill it with something he’s done so effortlessly and yet with you here, it’s manual. Run on baseless intuition that he forgets to live if he doesn’t live in you.

And yet…

The drive there is splendidly awkward, the walk into the church even moreso. You’re briefed every now and then, of pertinent belts on the map where the two of you float like two ghosts against unearthed land. He tracks mud on the floor, you carry blood on your clothes.

You both play your parts well; play it like he wasn’t the one living person to know you like the Earth knew the ocean. Like the sky knew nightfall.

But of course, with Leon, everything is cluttered. Messed into upheaval. Broken into something unsettled, of the past — het up like something that needed destroying and still, the feeling of want lingered in both of you like something to be mended.

It’s a blur when you two take a break — you’ve tracked Ashley and your hips are sore with the exertion of her escapade. You balance yourself against the wall, count your breaths as you try not to disembowel this morning’s contents against it.

Leon notices— he always does — and he comes forward with caution beneath his finger-tips, as he rubs the ball of your shoulder like you’d pounce.

“Is… everything okay?” he asks.

And as you turn to face him, you cough into your hands, swivelling around as tears meet your eye. The feeling scratches against your throat, like those harking nights spent against the tiled bathroom floors. Like those nights felt without the burn of his touch, just the chill of it instead — just the feel of your own bones sick of holding your bones in the place of him.

And you throw up against wall.

He calls your name, in worry, that much you catch in your sickness. The swelter of his touch is against your back, as he rubs it in according rhythms — something so domestic it made the feeling crawl right back into the back of your throat, stabbing the flesh like something cruel made with the press of him.

But he doesn’t relent. He cares for you like he loves you. Like he’s meant to hold you — you both fool yourselves into thinking he doesn’t.

It’s not quick business after that, as Ashley sits you atop crates and offers you water. Leon watches you with familiar, afraid eyes, as his gaze catches like something sharp intrudes his lungs again — it’s only when Ashley presses the idea of something delirious that you two snap out of it.

“Are you pregnant?” she asks. Her voice, nimble, probing and yet, it brings the crash of the world on your shoulders.

You had never seen anyone after Leon.

Only ever let him memorise the grooves against your skin.

Only ever let him in where there had been none before.

And as you meet his eyes, he looks back like he fears you’d disappear if he didn’t.

When the mission is concluded, briefed only a million times, Leon catches you on your scarper back home. In your mind, you’ve executed the plan of a pregnancy test and a mindless solemnity in your sheets, like a broken record. Something hard to break out of — but he breaks the intent of it. He interrupts it and places in a new itinerary.

“Hey, can we talk?”

You stagger against your feet as you look at him with a wounded expression, as if the request itself had done more insult to injury than most things left intimated. Left rotten and swelling at your doorstep the night he left.

“I don’t know, can we?” you bite back. Raise your shoulders. Play the part of the heretic. Hear the voice mocking you.

Idiot. You need this. You need him.

“Please — I’ve been thinking of… you, of us. Of what Ashley said, back then,” his voice starts, breaks, reminds you, “and I regret it.”

“Regret what?”

Your question comes blunt — unintentional. But harboured with something necessary.

“Regret leaving.”

Your heart is in your throat. Your legs throb with an ache. Your body looms with the threat of a dry-heave, but you keep standing. Withstand the blow of his admission.

“Why? Why did you leave?”

Your reply leaves him aimless — bloody, battered and naked for you to see the flesh underneath. If you picked apart the useless, flimsy thing left for display, you’d assimilate his hurt. His fear in loving you, fully, with feeling and the press of destiny like he had dreamt of because if you lost you in the trail of it, he’d lose it all.

“I left… because—because I was scared. Scared of loving you. Scared of losing you.”

“Who said you’re losing me?”

“I don’t — I don’t know. It was stupid. I’m sorry. I’m—sorry.”

He stalks forward, his fears against his feet as he promises yet again. He tracks blood on his back. You track dirt against your feet. You play the part well, of the injured. Of the battered and beaten and of the tender.

You play the part well.

“I’m sorry.”

Of you.

“It’s okay, Leon.”

Of the body you’ve missed to be yours.

“It’s okay.”

And as he crowds your arms, fills it with feeling and the thought of him again, something bleeding in your arms like peace again, here, promising you company across the horizon, a feeling of surety comes.

It comes.

#leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x reader #leon drabble #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you

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thecowboykatsuki-anon · 2 years

Text

Ex-boyfriend pro hero Dynamight;

It was an amicable breakup but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt to lose the love of your life.

You’d tried being friends, but between his heavy schedule and the flood of feelings you two still felt for one another… you drifted. You hadn’t meant to, it had just happened.

It’s been hard without him to lean on, without your best friend. Life seemed to be using you as a personal punching bag and a person can only handle so much on their own.

So, you do what people do. You broke. Shaky fingers dialed that number that you knew so well, sobs wracking your body as you listened to it ring. Once. Twice. Three times. Before you hung up, your guilt and pride getting the best of you.

He probably wouldn’t have cared anyways, you reason as you try to drift off, eyes stinging and swollen from crying.

You try not to think about it the next day, try not to keep checking your phone for a missed call, a text, anything. But you do. God, you do. And you’re met with nothing, and that’s when it sinks in that you’ve really, truly lost him.

So you’re surprised when you come home late that night from work, moving in the dark to put your groceries on the counter and see the broad shoulders of the man who has your heart, leaning casually against your kitchen island.

“You’re really here? You came?” You breath out shakily, feeling that familiar tightness in your chest that means tears aren’t too far behind.

He softens as he takes you in, gently taking the grocery bags from you before large hands cup your face, thumbs smoothing away tears you hadn’t realized were already falling. His words are soft as he gazes down at you, vermillion eyes still full of love and feelings you both tried to leave in the past.

“You called.”

#yes yes it’s inspired by the TikTok audio #shut up #mha #t writes #thecowboyanon writes #cowboy anon writes #bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #bakugo x reader #Bakugou blurb #pro hero Dynamight x reader

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tteokdoroki · 1 year

Text

𑊡˚+₊🍼✦ — pretty + bkg.

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — fluff + sfw, reader knows how to draw, just general admiration of bakugou bc i love him, calling bkg pretty, implied friends to lovers,

“you’re so pretty.”

bakugou looks up from his wilfully and organised assignment papers, having easily swept through each short answer essay question— highlighting the important parts so he knows how to grasp the big marks.

“the fuck are you on about?” he grumbles, putting down his work to get a better look at your face.

you’ve long since abandoned the task at hand, having taken to doodling in the back of your hefty project book with a pencil that’s about the size of your thumb. “well,” you hum, tongue sticking out of the corner of your mouth in concentration. “i mean,” you hold the pencil up to katsuki’s face to align it— watching as the sun filters down on his golden lashes, as it illuminates the faint freckles he has in the shade of honey across his skin. the led of your pencil scratches across the page satisfyingly enough to make you not miss your sketch book and then you speak again. “you’re just really pretty, katsuki.”

he is, and you mean it.

a blonde eyebrow raises and bakugou scoffs, “now you’re just talking bullshit,” shifting his attention back to the work before him. “get back to work, you have deadlines at the end of the month—“

a heat washes through your body in slow waves, as if you’re a child who’s been told that they’re wrong. you’re not, you’ve never been more right. katsuki is beautiful but in ways that you can never say. you can’t seem to ever string together the correct the words to describe just how beautiful he is— not just physically either. katsuki has a heart of gold, he’s loyal to the death for the people he cares about, he’ll always go above and beyond for them.

“i don’t know how to explain it!” you huff abruptly, still carving out a work of art into your project book— still connecting the freckled dots on his face like constellations in the night sky. “you’re stunning katsuki, a person like you. perfectly imperfect, you should be a statistical anomaly,” heads positioned at other desks in the library whip around to hush your outburst and even the blonde before you makes embarrassed attempts to keep you quiet. “you’re kind, you’re pretty, i wish you could see yourself the way i do.”

“what? you got some sorta evidence of my beauty that i don’t know about?”

bakugou’s face crumples, wrinkling at his nose and lips downturned into a frown— and still he looks better than ever painting completed in the history of art. you sketch his expression down. beauty is in the eye of the beholder, sure, but it frustrates you to know that katsuki doesn’t think the same as you— doesn’t see himself as the centre of the universe and the panicle of all things to be loved because though flawed, he’s a wonderful human being. he’s bewildered by your passion to prove him wrong, but says nothing, going back to his work.

the both of you fall into a silence, accompanied by the sounds of katsuki’s highlighter being dragged across the page and your own pencil on lined paper— the lead smudged on your finger tips as you blend it out on the page.

if he didn’t believe your words, he’d have to believe your art— for he is a work of art himself.

“here,” you whisper, tearing out the page with a small doodle of the handsome blonde, care and attention put into every line— highlighting what you see, the truth about katsuki bakugou. “your evidence.”

for a second, bakugou blanks. he may not see the way you do, but he can tell from your simple and heartfelt drawing that you think the world of katsuki bakugou. that he’s important to you, means something to you. you’re gathering your things when he comes to this realisation— drawing clutched in one hand, the other darting out to grab your wrist.

your eyes meet, vermillion red eyes swirling with appreciation and gratitude— the emotions dancing between the dark brown flecks that line his eyes. “f’the record,” bakugou mumbles, thumbing the edge of the page where you’ve drawn him in his most natural and relaxed form. “i think you’re pretty too. in all the ways…just dunno how to explain it.”

when you laugh brightly, bakugou knows there’s no need for him to explain further— a warmth blossoming in his chest, knowing that he’s appreciated by the one person that matters most to him.

you.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou imagine #bakugo x reader #this has been in my drafts since summer pls take it #bakugo fluff #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #✧ ₊˚💭੭ — aali just posted

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luveline · 2 years

Text

𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary steve takes you to see the fireworks and has something important to tell you [2k]

warnings fluff, mutual pining, love confessions, first kiss, best friend!reader, gn!reader, no s4 spoilers, steve is a softie under all the sarcasm, requested here

𓆩❤︎𓆪

"It's really fucking cold."

"You knew we were coming here tonight," Steve says, rolling his eyes at you. You almost miss it, surrounded by the roaring din of the crowd collected for the Hawkins fourth of July display.

"I didn't know it would be cold. It's summer."

"In Indiana. Here," Steve says quickly, coming to a stop. People carve a path around you, the two of you rocks in a stream as he shrugs out of his jacket.

"I can't take your jacket," you say, shaking your head. You feel instantly guilty for complaining.

"Shut up and put it on. I know you, Y/N, if you don't take it you'll complain all night and I'll have to listen."

He forces the outerwear into your hand. You run the fabric between your fingers. Steve sighs loudly and long-suffering until you concede and pull it on, instantly engulfed by his warm, heady scent that you love.

"Smells like a department store," you mutter.

Steve rolls his eyes for the second time and starts to walk off without you. You skip to catch up with him, tripping over someone's shoes and knocking straight into his side. You grab at his sweatshirt sleeve and he steadies you deftly, apologising to the man you'd almost steamrolled.

"What's the matter with you?" he asks, laughing, hand hot on your arm.

You smile at him, feeling every finger's individual heat like a brand. "Sorry, Steve."

He huffs and pulls you along, up the outdoor stadium's steps and onto a mostly empty bench at the back. It's finally getting dark as the day ends and dusk falls, the sun's meagre warmth fading. You press your thigh to Steve's because you've never cared about closeness before and you won't change now, it would only bring up questions you're not sure you're ready to answer, only…

It's getting hard to not tell him, ready or not.

You look at him and you just want him to know. He's your best friend in the world and you tell him all your dumb secrets, all of them except this, and it's weighing heavy. You feel it on the tip of your tongue sometimes, moments when he looks most handsome. Early mornings after spending the night where he's blinking the fatigue away, hair wet to his head after a shower. In his car, in the passenger seat, sneaking glances at his concentrated pout, his big hands on the wheel.

Now, his face, clear as the dark sky.

You gaze down over the crowd to distract yourself and your traitorous mouth.

"Hey…" you mumble, standing up as you spot a familiar group in the crowd, Dustin and co looking happy as clams, "I thought they couldn't-"

You turn to Steve. He hasn't heard you, his hand scrubbing over the denim of his jeans. You hate these jeans – they hug his thighs in all the right, ridiculous places. He looks upset, something downturned in his eyes, a slight pout to his lips.

"Is everything okay?" you ask.

The first firework is lit. In the time it takes him to answer it bursts across the sky, a technicolor of light that paints Steve a thousand shades. Honeysuckle pinks and orange, brightest azure blue, buttery oranges chased by a spattering of vermillion.

"No," he says wryly, staring at his hands.

You feel your breath catch in your throat.

Steve looks to you and his brown eyes are almost black, a mirror, his irises a spectral ring.

"Steve, why did I just see your lunch club out on the field?" you ask.

"I need to talk to you," he says instead of answering.

He stands.

Another scream as a hail of what must be a hundred rockets sail up into the sky and further intensify its prismatic display, like drops of pigment spreading across a navy page.

"What is it?" You ask, impatient. "Steve, I don't like this. What's wrong? Did I do something?"

The seriousness drains from his face. He scrunches up his nose likes he's about to sneeze.

"It's nothing," he says, frustrated, "forget about it."

"Steve, what did I do?"

He laughs loudly and you're not convinced, taking your wrists into his hands to stop you from rubbing them together, a nervous habit. "You didn't do anything. I'm just being a loser. I lied about the kids 'cos I didn't want to play babysitter tonight, you know? I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you say. Everything sounds like it's underwater. A split second of numbness, uncertainty.

He smiles gratefully, glances down at your hands like he didn't know what he was doing and drops them.

You don't believe him. The shock is palpable; that Steve had lied to you and that he's lying again.

A tendril of anxiety curls in your chest. You turn your face to the sky and watch the fireworks pop, the display especially impressive this year. Your ears burn from the sound, it's so loud.

"Sometimes," Steve starts, though when you look at him he's looking up, "you get this look…I don't know. Like you're trying to tell me something."

You feel like you've been stabbed in the chest. Because of course he would notice.

"And I'm-" the weight of his voice increases. He sounds a touch from incensed. "I'm trying to tell you, and I really want it to be the same thing. I really want it," he says, slowing down. "But I've never been that lucky."

A fireworks roars. The display is ramping up - a finale.

"You're my only stroke of luck!" Steve is almost shouting to be heard over the noise of what must be thousands of people and the thundering fireworks and still you can barely hear him. He turns to you, his face painted by a shock of white-centred blues, voice scratchy like he can't contain it. "I love you!"

Of course, life can be special and pretty and shiny sometimes, and his confession rings out through a gap of silence. You inhale, ripping sharp air into your lungs.

Then the fireworks continue, exploding loud, a patterning of fizz bangs and screaming and a thousand colours raining from the sky, though they never land. Sparks of light.

"As more than a friend," he says. His vulnerability churns your tummy, worse the dread lining the corners of his parted lips. He raises a hand to his chest, searching for words. "It's my bad if that's not something you wanted to hear, but I need you to know."

He's barely finished when you're leaping to tell him back, trying to grab his arm and then pulling back before you make contact, afraid.

You have a confession of your own. "When you catch me looking at you, you're right! I am trying to tell you something."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you say happily, voice hoarse. "Yeah. I look at you and I can't not want it."

"Want what?" he asks.

The adrenaline of it - his confession and yours, the shouting and the lights and the sound, you're filled up to the top with excitement. You take his upper arms in your hand and look over his chest because he can't be real, and his flesh is solid and warm beneath you, his face as windblown and surprised as yours.

"You just told me that you love me," you say.

"What do you want?" he asks with a characteristic impatience, like you're absurd for being shell-shocked.

"To kiss you," you confide, taking his face into your hand. "To tell-"

Lips, warm and solid against yours. At first clumsy and not quite right, a miss, he pulls back and tries again. You slam your eyes closed as his nose slides into yours, grasping at his face like he might fall away.

The tenacity behind his kiss surprises you. You've imagined a thousand kisses from Steve but never one like this, never this desperation to be close. You and him have always been easy, always been friends, fit together like two puzzle pieces. But you're not puzzle pieces – you're people.

In love, blood hot as stars.

He tries to pull away and you're still looking for him. He manhandles you backwards, laughing, his usual sarcasm lightened by fondness. "Hey- hey, what is this? I feel like I'm in a fucking Ridley Scott movie."

"Steve," you plead, pulling at the nape of his neck.

"S'like you're a facehugger," he says as you press your lips to his, his hands tender in juxtaposition to the scathing assessment on your character.

Still, he kisses you, and he's soft, making sounds that you've dreamt of and never got quite right. There's a sweetness to his lips that has you opening your mouth, wading in further.

Something booms in the sky and you jump, almost biting his lip open.

He raises a hand to his mouth and looks at you with wide eyes. "I was kidding about the facehugger thing."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you say, abashed. You take his chin in your shaking hand and pull down his bottom lip. He's thankfully bloodless.

He holds his hand over yours. Your eyes catch and stick, darting between the two, you can't choose. His fingertips press gently into your knuckles, stroking.

"I love you. Don't know if you heard me, 'cos you didn't really say anything back," he says, voice trailing to mumbles.

"I feel the same." You laugh loud. "I love you. I love you," you say, twice, because the first time had felt like a shackle releasing. The second, a dizzying affection. "Steve, I love you."

Relief crashes over his face.

"I know I'm a good kisser," he says, face edging towards yours, an easy and contagious smile warping his words, making them sticky and quiet; if you couldn't see his lips you might not know what he was saying, "but you're repeating yourself. Did you know?"

"You're insufferable! I'm telling you I love you and you're making bad jokes?"

"Bad? That's your opinion and you're entitled to it but don't go spreading it around. I'm funny." He doesn't sound so sure. "People tell me I'm funny."

"Who?"

"You're missing the point."

"What's the point?"

He squeezes your cheek. You push a lazy kiss into his bottom lip, slow depsite your racing heart as he tries to make his argument.

"There was a point," he says, again completely unconvincing. He kisses you back tentatively, only pausing to murmur, "I'm sure there was a point."

"Uh-huh," you say.

"You're a dork. I'm never kissing you again if this is how you act."

"Promise?" you ask cheekily.

"No."

When the fireworks are over and the kids finally find you, kiss bitten and beaming and cheeks awash with heat, eyes a little glassy especially in the dark, they refuse to let it go. There's teasing, rough-housing, clapping on the shoulders. It feels embarrassing and raw but Steve holds your hand all the way through it, so it's mostly alright. Mostly. A lot. It's perfect.

His car that you know like the back of your hand feels new as you climb in. You're smelling all the smells, his roll on old spice and his shampoo, the greasy bag of fries in the back. You can see every dent on the dashboard, scuff marks from your converse, the wear on the steering wheel.

You look at Steve and he's amplified. The kids cadge a ride, too many bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder in the back seats. He's looking over the headrest, pissed off but something's not right, not selling the act.

He's smiling.

"Henderson! Stop kicking the seat. No, I'm not putting the radio on, it's close to midnight. We're not messing around here, I know at least half of you are late for curfew, would you-" his voice snags and he does a double take when he realises you're looking at him. He clears his throat. "Would you guys please just take it easy on me?"

"Steve's in love," someone croons.

Infectious chortling, a backseat made up of teasing.

Steve ignores it all for a moment, a pleased grin sent your way and returned tenfold.

His cheeks pink. He starts the engine, voice high. "Shut up or nobodies going home!"

His threat has an adverse effect, like usual. You reach out and squeeze his leg in comfort, overjoyed, because you can do that now.

"I'm on your side, Steve," you promise.

"Stroke of luck. I should buy a fucking lottery ticket," he mutters fondly.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

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