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minkmousesworld · 2 years

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request: If you’ll write for him, can you do A/B/O hcs for Hotaru Haganezuka (the swordsmith), w nsfw plz 💞💞

Hello hello! Thank you for your request♡

⌞ fireflies ⌝

drabble + sfw headcanons + nsfw headcanons + drabble for alpha reader. more than 1000 words. mention of hard practices.

𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞: omegaverse au

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: pet names, courtship, dommale elements, animal behaviour (nesting, purring, light scent kink, marking), mention of male pregnancy, dommy buff omega likes to be taken by the hand and from behind.

nsfw under 'nsfw'

𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: ω! hotaru haganezuka x reader; α! reader implied

You have never seen a wilder omega than him; and sometimes you doubt if there is even a person who can compete with him in this.

Everyone knows — Hotaru is hot-tempered, loud, easily coming to emotions, but at the same time sometimes ignoring others to amazement, as if he lived only in his own world, ignoring any logic and surrendering only to the passion in his heart. He preferred to stay at home, was passionately devoted to his hobbies and looked eternally dissatisfied — not that he could be judged for this, of course, but even if he were not an omega, these would not be attractive qualities.

And, unfortunately, Hotaru was exactly omega — although very attractive, but too hot and burning, clearly aggressive and "problematic", and this, willingly or unwittingly, repelled the alphas and betas. Like a time bomb (although for you he was more like a cat), ready to explode if mishandled — not at all an obedient and affectionate stereotypical omega. And it's not that he suffered because of it — at least he never looked like he was suffering from a lack of interest from the alphas, rather enjoying those who are willing to tolerate him and understand him.

Was it a kind of subconscious "check"? You didn't know. In the same way, from where pretty stones appeared next to your door, shimmering with various colors, along with deliberately carelessly well-groomed flowers, as if someone very diligently made them beautiful, but tried to pretend that this was not the case. And you knew, you knew who brought you this gift. Because only one person smelled like that.

It was such an obvious way of saying that he liked you that the only even more obvious way was to come straight up to you and say. But, apparently, he planned to play these "I found you" games for now, waiting for your reaction — and definitely expecting you to accept gifts, even if they are from omega, to whom you are supposed to bring gifts.

He's always been like that, after all. Eccentric, but living his passion.

(it's almost amazing how Hotaru managed to become like this, considering that omegas are usually taught to be patient and waiting)

(but when you see his gifts again, for some reason you feel warm, but wrong...)

〄 At the beginning of his courtship, even if you are a little wary or apprehensive, Hotaru pretends that everything is normal, unwittingly making you feel like everything is normal too. He becomes more restrained if he notices that you don't really tolerate his behavior at the moment, or, conversely, becomes more persistent if he understands that you are fine — as if you are playing some fancy games like "catch me" or "take care of me".

And although at first Hotaru tries to behave like the one who started, he does not mind at all if then you take the initiative, pushing him into a more accepting position or even fighting a little for the right to be "courting", where, of course, he gives up in the end — not at all because he likes when for he is being courted and sought after, but because you won a fair victory, understand?

... He would rather 'die' than let you know that he likes to feel wanted and loved in a more omega-ish way.

〄 Yes, "more omega-ish" is all these 'stupid and annoying' things like giving up a seat, giving a hand, helping when crossing something or opening a door in front of him, pushing a chair, insisting that you take care of everything, you don't want to make your omega feel tired, he should to be surrounded by care and attention — he blushes and is silent, looking with a complex expression anywhere but at you, but you feel that he is happy, although very confused. Giving gifts, praise, attention to small details, the desire to make him happy — his heart is so easy to melt, much easier than you think.

Hotaru is so unaccustomed to caring and tenderness, especially romantic, that he gets lost and does not know how to react, except to grumble a little or be silent, thinking how to thank you and not look obviously excited.

When you take his hand politely for the first time, he wants to pull it away from shyness and a feeling of strange warmth, but you pretend that everything is fine, even if you then catch almost guilty glances. He eventually apologizes in a confused way — probably not with words, but with deeds, trying to behave more gently, knowing that you are not trying to harm him; calls on dates, tries to behave less hot-tempered, getting used to you, but still leaves gifts at your door.

〄 ... But the bouquet and candy period does not last forever. Although Hotaru is shy and slow to reveal his feelings, he is open in demonstrating that he has a partner and he is serious, so you start living together and, mmm, spending time alone together before exchanging 'mating bites' or rings — he is not one of those who does something thoughtlessly, even if he often allows his passion to prevail over other things.

"You to him" or "he to you" depends on how ready you are for his hobby of sharpening sharp objects, and by "ready" means your ability to provide a place for his things. It is not so important to him where exactly he will live, since in any case Hotaru will change everything to suit his needs, but if you are more sensitive to unfamiliar things, then this may be important for you. Do you bring your things? Cool, he'll help you find a place. Are you building a nest? Well, he agrees that you find a place in the closet, or connect it and your nest together — or he can build a general one. Are you buying new things? Yes, he lacked a refreshing environment. Are you throwing something away? He... was also thinking about throwing it away, so it's okay, do it!

In turn, if Hotaru moves in with you, he expects the same acceptance and understanding on your part, since his house is primarily a place of comfort, and you will have to give up some things here and there and engage in general restructuring until he can start building a nest.

〄 His nest? Looks sloppy and too big, but surprisingly soft and comfortable. He often built nests as a child when he wanted to relax and ease the burning feeling of anger, so he is very skillful and quick to build it.

Consists of very soft and light blankets, but sometimes there are lush and very warm ones (the number of which can grow if you are rather a 'cold body', because Hotaru is rather hot and prefers less warm blankets); under the blankets here and there there are bells that you can easily detect, even if Hotaru definitely tries to hide them as far as possible.

Even if you may have a feeling that Hotaru is "too much", which makes it difficult to determine whether he himself is in the nest or not, for some reason it does not irritate you and does not cause a desire to go out. Maybe because you are already used to his smell, maybe because it doesn't bother you too much — however, you still spend a lot of time in it. Perhaps after a while you will be haunted by the smell of your omega... while his nest will smell of you, so it's a fair deal.

〄 Home life with him is as chaotic as you might expect. Although Hotaru knows how to cook and do household chores, he often ignores the need to take care of himself, believing that he will be able to live anyway, as if his body itself is made of metal, and physical care only reaches the necessary minimum so as not to die. And it's not that he is lazy or inept — he just has more important things to do, spending nights with what has captured his heart and giving himself to passion, which is why he can stay up all night just talking to you (if you share the same passion) or giving himself to a hobby (if you are on more thoughtful side).

However, when you unexpectedly remind him that it is necessary to do this, or even insist that it is time to take care of the house and about himself, Hotaru behaves obediently, even if grumbles — because he understands that you care about him, but still retains his personality of a disgruntled puppy who yaps but does without telling you that he doesn't think it's necessary.

But, at other times, Hotaru still remains a good husband, even if his ignoring the instinct of self-preservation for the sake of a sense of intensity can sometimes amaze both positively and negatively. He cooks vegetables and roasts meat well, and is not picky about food, easily adjusting to your preferences, and even allowing you to persuade him to co-manage the household contrary to his initial discontent — he doesn't really resist your requests and orders very well, although can grumble and turn his nose for a long time; but then he agrees that your idea was good and he even begins to like it (although he also continues to ignore what did not arouse his interest). Maybe it's a bit like 'brainwashing', where you make him love housework, but it ended well, so-

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: sex during mating season + sex marathon, unprotected sex / breeding, rough treatment, dommale elements / power exchange, penetration giving + deep penetration, knotting, brat taming, sex toys, oral sex (r.)

mention of hard practices (CNC, knife play)

mention of tickling, gaping, semi-public sex, sex after drinking alcohol, outdoor sex, oral knotting, throatfucking, crying, degradation praise / degradation / praise, rimming, jealous sex

positions: from behind (doggy), cowboy, mating press

〄 His libido is definitely high, especially when the mating period comes — and if outside of estrus he can give his passion to other things, giving you the opportunity to rest and the lack of feeling that your omega is too thirsty and greedy for you, then during estrus you do not get out of the nest not because your omega is territorial or wants to cuddle, but because the five-minute break is over, dear, get back in.

At the beginning of your relationship, he prefers to be on top in order to independently adjust the depth and speed. Although Hotaru will never say it explicitly without teasing-provocations, he is actually excited and worried when you are inside him, since his only experience was with toys during heat and some books — either he was too wild and intense for potential partners, or they failed to attract him and if he is not too skilled in romance, he is not shy, then he cannot calm his anxiety about control. Being able to see your face and know how you feel, while maintaining a more controlling role, calms him down.

As the relationship progresses, Hotaru is more willing to lean towards less controlling processes, like mating press and from behind, when you allow him to surrender to what is happening and trust you, already knowing how to make his body feel good and it trembled with pleasure. When he lies on his side, clinging to the pillow while you drive inside him, making him moan loudly and mumble something hoarsely, squeezing the fabric from the sensations, allowing you to fully control and choose exactly how you want to make him, aggressive and independent to the point of savagery, feel — it's heavenly.

〄 His heat doesn't last long, but it's usually quite draining — rather because of his initially high sex drive, which only gets worse when his body thinks it's time to make cubs, and pushes him to saddle you anyway if you can't take him and bury him in the pillow while pounding from behind. Preparation for estrus is usually slow and calm, so that one night Hotaru suddenly became very hot and you started to smell even more arouse... oh, have you always smelled like this?

Why is his head so empty...

... Usually it all starts with his constant fatigue and desire to sleep, but no matter how long he stays in bed or nest, it does not go away. Constant hunger, a sharp decline in activity, pain in the body, the desire to snuggle up to you and discontent when there is nothing with your smell next to him — you already know what will happen soon, even if you have not remembered his cycle. When he grumbles something into the pillow, not even being able to get up, you always have two options: either illness or the onset of estrus; but when he becomes clingy to your presence and smell and shows obvious dissatisfaction with the appearance of unfamiliar smells, you understand that this is the second.

And it's not so bad... until the heat itself begins, and you don't find yourself captured until the very end, when he can't take any more. Hotaru is not too prepared, preferring to experience "as is", but after starting a relationship with you and experiencing the first joint estrus, he becomes more thoughtful, preparing a lot of water in advance and lubricants — just in case you realize that your body can't cope any longer and you need more than a few minutes, however, Hotaru will still need to feel full. Toys, mouth, fingers — he is not picky, as long as he feels your smell and his body is satisfied.

〄 Hotaru, like most omegas, is low fertile outside of estrus — but even if he were the 'perfect parent material', he would still not be able to refuse raw breeding when you cum deep into him, not taking out for a moment until you're done with him. He is not interested in children and pregnancy, but often indulges his desires, even if it involves risk. Bondage? Knife play? Semi-public sex? Under alcohol? In nature? When others are around? Consensual nonconsensual?

You name it — he agrees; even if Hotaru has an assumption that he won't like it, he thinks he should try everything, especially if you suggest it. Probably, you quickly have a safe word and an understanding of what you might like in the future, studying each other's preferences to the smallest detail. That's how you found out that your mate likes it when you grab him by the hair, talk dirty to him and "force" him with knives.

Degrading praise is better than praise, but praise is better than degradation and humiliation. Brat taming, tagging and spanking, bondage, denial of orgasm, taking light tickling, gaping, rimming, throatfucking and oral knotting — the more you study, the more about your mate you will learn, although how cute he makes a facial expression when he is close to orgasm or coughs while you stretch his throat is impossible describe.

〄 And although you may have a huge desire to call him absolutely submissive, this is not entirely true — yes, Hotaru takes the dominant side only when he feels nervous, but he also shows up in teasing you when you are close to just pushing him — especially if you are smaller/weaker than him and can't be too aggressive, because he doesn't want aggression, but the knowledge that you want him so much that you can't be responsible for yourself.

Maybe his love of giving you oral sex and CNC comes out of this — to know that he gives you pleasure, for which you can be rude, desperate, or gently asking for a continuation in an excited voice? Amazing — and a great way to find something new to do for his mouth besides grumbling.

The more openly you behave about the fact that you consider him exciting and do not want him to stop, the more excited and diligent he becomes, although he refuses to call it "praise kink" — he does not want praise, he wants confirmation of his experience and knowledge that he understands how your body works.

〄 Hotaru is very vocal, especially when he feels good — you will probably have to find ways to shut him up if you don't want others to know how you breed him; or, conversely, it will be a good way to remind 'who he belongs to' - Hotaru is not shy, so he will easily 'survive' such details, but other alphas and betas will definitely remember not to go to him if the next morning after the sounds from your room there are marks on his neck and shoulders that he is not trying too hard to hide — or nail marks on your shoulder blades.

"If you didn't want them to stay, you shouldn't have pushed so deep and left his hands free," he grumbles as he pours a drink for you, but that's what you wanted, so that's all right (although you certainly won't say that out loud).

bonus: alpha!reader, knotting

You're probably worried that your omega will have a hard time accepting your knot — after all, Hotaru wasn't too keen on alphas before, although he used small knot-dildos from time to time when his body felt too empty, but if the knot on the toy can be easily removed or made smaller, then in reality he doesn't will be able to do the same, even if the omega body, in theory, should be able to accept any.

But Hotaru is self-confident that, of course, he will be able to accept you, stop underestimating him, his body can accept you even if you were even bigger, he is not some fragile gentle omega who faints from one look at alpha's dick! You- stop making that face! Give him this knot and he will show you that you are talking complete nonsense!

But when you push inside, it's obvious that he's too tight, even after petting, although Hotaru growls at you to stop worrying, and moans hoarsely into the pillow, squeezing it, when you stretch his hole completely, filling his stomach. And even when you slowly push, trying to behave as carefully as possible, ignoring Hotaru's words that he can do more — because once you start moving harder, he almost suffocates, shaking, feeling how deep you fuck him, making his head spin.

But, although Hotaru cums several times before you knot him, he only whines very softly when you fill his stomach, and in fact turns out to be right — his body easily accepts your knot.

... Yes, he's the size king.

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hollyhomburg · 3 years

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Before I Leave You (Pt.4)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Yoongi makes his choice, so does Moonbyul.

Pairing: Beta! Yoongi, Omega! Reader, Omega! Jungkook, Omega! Seokjin, Alpha! Namjoon, Alpha! Hoseok, Alpha! Taehyung, Alpha! Jimin,

Tags: Graphic material, Death, Murder, Dead bodies and dying described in detail, brief suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, depression, DARK THEMES, guilt, blood, a touch of blood kink? drugs, murder/crime themes, guilt, kinda fuck or die vibes? finally fluff at the end, mating marks,

W/c: 7.1k

A/n: here is the moment you’ve all been waiting for! the big d word moment!!! my carpal tunnel is acting up, I will probably not be able to get the next chapter out for a few days or until next week. Chronologically the next chapter continues after part 1.

(PLEASE READ TAGS FOR CW BEFORE YOU PROCEED)

Previous part — Masterlist

Part 4: If I Have You

Pulling the trigger is the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

Geumjae’s body flinches back from the force of the bullet. The ceiling splattering with the spray of his blood. It hits the side of your face too, your white shirt crested with red at the shoulders, dripping down your throat along with the blood from your mating bite. It’s a percussive splatter, noisy as it hits the wall.

People never talk about how blood gets everywhere during a murder. Yoongi is unable to stop his flinch when Geumjae’s brain matter and viscera splatter against him, just a little.

Yoongi didn't think you'd actually do it.

He watches you shove the body away from you, hard, what's left of his head, an empty vessel, hitting the floor with a hollow thud. His hands leave you for the last time, but the pain isn't finished.

Yoongi barely has the forethought to lunge forward, knees scraping, wrestling the gun out of your hand before you can turn it on yourself. The barrel of the gun is hot when Yoongi's hands close around it and yank it away from your own temple. The smell of burning skin joins the metallic scent of murder. Your scent is a mess- it’s barely had a chance to mix with Geumjae’s burning wood-burning bread and wrath, rainstorms, and gunpowder.

He shouts your name but you don't respond.

Yoongi yanks the gun from your hands, probably hurting your fingers but panicked when he hurls the gun to the other side of the room and takes your hands in his, wrestling with you and screaming your name until the fight goes out of you.

You’re hyperventilating when you stop struggling. Both of your wrists pinned above your head in both of Yoongi’s hands, his knees pressing your legs to stillness in a way that could be sexual but isn't- it's the easiest way for him to restrain you- both sprawled on the bloody floor. Yoongi’s crying, tears dripping down his nose, every other drop shines pink from what's on his face.

“Yoongi please- please just let me go- I don’t want to become a ghost- I don't wanna become a walking corpse.” The way you look breaks his heart, your neck so bruised and bloody, your face swelling too from Geumjae’s hits. The way your eyes hold only darkness and no warmth as you look at him and beg- beg him to let you take your life. Your pupils are so small he can't see them at all.

“Let me die Yoongi- please just- if you do one thing for me- let do this. let me go."

Yoongi looks at your mating mark and can already see the thin tracery of ink spreading under your skin- inky blackness spreading from your mating bite and up your throat. A piece of someone who’s dead inside of you, shot through with silver to make it stand out more.

It’s like some silly zombie bite in a bad horror movie but it’s so much more haunting, The veins in your eyes are even starting to discolor. You have maybe a few minutes before the mating bite takes you over completely and you’re mated to someone dead.

Zombie movies were nothing more than fear of this taking root in common culture, everyone fears losing their mate. What else is more terrifying than something that takes your humanity in the way that this has taken yours. This is every person’s worst nightmare- a death sentence.

‘Ghosts’ are what society has dubbed the women and men who live after losing their partners. Most of the time they live without alpha or a pack- unable to bond to anyone else ever again once their mates are dead. Mating bites are a one-time thing.

When one-half of a mated pair dies- a person's body has a peculiar way of letting outsiders know how to treat them gently- The mating mark turns black like a brand. A mark to let everyone know that they would never have another person to take care of them- to love them.

But you aren’t alone- you’re not alone because you have Yoongi and he’s right here with his wide palms on you. Hands that where always made to fix things, but you aren’t just some broken toy that needs a bit of glue. He’s too late, just seconds too late and only inches away.

He grips both of your forearms in either of his palms hands, pulling you closer. Making you sit up, dragging you into his lap like carrying your weight in his arms will fix this. Anything to hold onto you- to not lose you too soon.

"Stop- just stop, I've got you- I've got you," Yoongi repeats it more for himself than he does for you.

But there are wounds in your body that can’t be fixed by simple hoping. There is a limit to what one person can take. Despair is one hell of a drug and while Yoongi fights and fights there is no undoing what Geumjae has done to you.

But maybe…

Yoongi dares to hope; “It’s only a half bond if we-“ he falls silent as the idea settles over him like a bucket of cold water. His brain rushing over everything he’s ever learned about mating bites and beta’s; all of the statistics and articles that Namjoon had shoved down his throat when Jungkook had first stopped having seizures.

The medical mystery that betas were; how they were able to heal unseen hurts and maybe- maybe this was like that. Maybe the solution to this problem lays in Yoongi’s veins, in his mouth.

His jaw aches at the very suggestion of it. “I’m a beta- and betas don’t usually mark- because- because they’re stronger than alpha and omega bites.”

It’s the only truth that makes sense. All of the stories of omegas and alphas going crazy after being bitten by betas, not being able to move from them too far, extreme clinginess- a bond that was too close, too strong, stronger than anything else in their life. You weren’t supposed to bond with someone so deep, the bite almost seemed to do more harm than good.

But you’re already dying and there isn’t much worse that could happen to you.

You don't have anything to lose but Yoongi does. You shake yourself free from his arms and pull back. Recoiling from what he’s offering to do for you; tether him to you forever when you might not make it.

You can already feel the mating mark taking hold- It's already starting to cloud your judgment, deep down, the part of you that cares if you survive this is already winking out. The blankness sinking through your every inch, The emptiness. You’d be surprised if you lifted your hand to your chest and found your heart still beating.

“Yoongi- No- you don’t have to- you’ve already got a pack and don’t- don’t bind yourself to someone like me.”

It’s the same argument that you had before but there’s no force behind it- every stupid excuse you had for him not to love you is moot now that your husband is dead next to you. But you're done; Every breath takes more effort than it should and you feel so heavy. You look down at your lap and feel the lethargy sinking beneath your bones like lead. Hidden hands gripping around your throat cutting off your words.

You feel like you’re choking on something.

You’ve felt depressed before (how could you not have given what your life was like before Yoongi). And having a mating mark from someone deceased feels like that but worse, like it's turned up by a factor of three. A weird mixture of dizzy, absent, and dissociative. You have never felt less connected to your own body, it feels foreign.

You are nothing but a soul inside a body, craving release. A thread of black that wants to tug you down to where ever Geumjae is now.

The sinking sadness says to you with gentle hands- this is a fine spot. You can just sit here, It’s okay. You don’t have to move, you can just sit here until you die. As long as no one bothers you and hurts you again, you could just sit here, as long as it was quiet and peaceful. Things don't even have to be good, you don't need good things, you just need it to not hurt anymore. Until the earth reclaims you like it takes abandoned buildings.

A sharp pain that goes through your heart, an ache so deep that it speaks to cavernous places, wakes monsters that you didn’t know where there.

You’ve never really wanted to die before, maybe as a passing thought- but didn’t everyone think that way? it’s so different now- where the thoughts are all consuming, running over your words in your head like oil spreading and staining cloth.

Die- want to die- want- want- want die- wanna go- wanna be quiet- wanna fall asleep and not wake up- want to-

But if you decided to lay here and not get up again, Yoongi would stay too.

He would try and get you to move, probably beg and try to get you to live. Even if he never bit you, he’d stay next to you until the end, just to hold your hand so that you didn’t have to be completely alone. You thought dying would feel more lonely, But maybe it doesn't feel that way because Yoongi’s here.

His hand closes around yours, his thumb rubbing soothing circles as he cries. And you think if you want one thing; it's for him to stop crying. Out of all people- Yoongi doesn't deserve the hurt (but maybe you're biased because you love him).

That tips the scale in his favor.

Geumjae’s blood is pooling on the floor. His body gives a twitch, the last remnants of his misfiring nerves as he dies. You feel the painful jerk in your mating bond. Yoongi watches the muscles of your neck twitch.

Neither you nor Yoongi pays him any mind.

"You don't have to do this Yoongi." Yoongi’s hand on your cheek- is like a balm to those words, pushing them out of your head. “You can’t take it back. If I die- you could die too.”

“But I want to” he kisses your cheek- and the contact lights a flame down your neck to your touch starved heart. The heat flares to light and the next second your body and your mouth are aching to bite. Your instincts an avalanche around you begging you to complete the bond that’s tearing through you making you shake. He kisses a little closer to your lips, cheeks wet and cool against your skin.

Geumaje and Yoongi were related by blood at all, maybe your instincts can’t tell the difference.

“I don’t care if it does- I can’t- I’m not going to just let you die” his voice breaks on the last word. Not when it was me who was too slow to save you; He won’t say the words or whisper his guilt into the open air.

“Please sweetheart- let me.” He kisses your lips. So soft- achingly soft, Your first kiss, you wish it had happened under better circumstances.

You hate that the first kiss you and Yoongi share tastes like blood.

But there would be more- there could be more kisses if Yoongi manages to do what he’s saying he can. The mark on your shoulder is already healing, the blackness stretching to scar treacherously fast. Normal mating bites usually take a day or so to heal, but not yours, it’s already scabbing and sealing in the poision.

If you’re going to try this- if it’s going to work- it has to be now. The bond is advancing, regardless of the fact that Geumjae is barely dead, barely cooling beside the two of you.

It’s barely been 10 minutes since you shot him. And if you listen carefully- you can hear sounds in the rest of the house, maybe someone else from the gang here- about to come upstairs and discover the mess of you three. muffled voices and heavy footsteps grow louder by the second.

Yoongi is safe but you’re not. “Yoongi,” you say, his name a broken hymn on your mouth. Musical- and Yoongi can’t think of a time when he wouldn’t want to hear it. Hoping for more of this closeness and maybe one day, a love that doesn’t hurt.

You get the feeling that even if you are broken beyond repair, this man could fix you. Wide hands and careful fingers that rub the blood away from your skin, hands made for making things and mending things when they break. And maybe you’re selfish enough to let him bind himself to you- broken as you are.

You press your forehead to his, you have to ask one more time. "Are you sure Yoongi?"

He nods, quick and small, "I'm sure." there isn’t anything in his eyes that makes you doubt him.

"Okay," you say softly, tugging him closer, tilting your chin up to the sky, your skin stings where it stretches around the mating mark. "okay. Come here then."

Your hands tangle in Yoongi’s hair as you guide his mouth to your throat, and his mouth sliding into the space where Geumjae was just minutes ago. He lingers for just half a breath before sinks his teeth over the mating mark, a little deeper- his mouth a little wider. He makes the bite a tiny bit offset.

Your breath hitches, back arching. His hands-on your waist go hard, holding you closer to him, as close as he can get you. Unlike before when Geumjae’s bite was agony, this feels like heroin- like every drug mixing together sending you up and up.

If you looked down and saw your hands were tipped in gold you wouldn’t be surprised. For a second you think you can taste colors, and then the chocolate sea salt of Yoongi settles over your tongue delicious, like ambrosia- fuck it’s so strong, it’s halfway between a headache and a high. You gasp when you feel it, feel Yoongi all over, Goosebumps rising on your arms as he touches you. The smell of ocean breeze and chocolate filling you in a way that Geumjae’s scent didn’t.

Geumjae’s bite was nothing compared to this, a whisper to a symphony.

This must be what a mating bite feels like when you want it. You cry out. Gripping the lapels of his coat. Yoongi’s heartbeat thunders in your ears, the only thing you can hear, until the beat matches to your own, heartbeats pumping in sync.

Your blood tastes sweet and he wonders what it says about him that he likes the taste. He gulps at it- once- twice- and then a third time just to make sure the mark sticks, maybe he could suck a little bit of Geumjae out of you.

His kisses get feverish, lapping up your blood with wide laves of his tongue, moaning a little. and this time when you kiss- with your blood in his mouth, they get hurried and rushed like he can consume you, each one sweeter than the last. There is one moment of nausea, only one moment where Yoongi sees the black tracery receded and feels it dim.

Maybe it’s not gone, but at least it's buried.

Yoongi can almost feel you, can almost feel the bond, but not yet. Your scent, it's all cake-sweet now. You kiss him until your jaw aches until your lips feel bruised. Until you know the sounds below actually are people, rushing around trying to find Geumjae. Calling out your names.

Yoongi is the first to break apart, the room spinning. “Do me” he lifts the edge of his shirt, picking out a spot that he likes, the meat just above his hip. A spot is half-hidden by his shirt and his pants.

Not everyone likes to have their mating marks on their neck (you certainly would have chosen to have yours another place had you been given the chance). And Yoongi stretches out so that you can get your mouth on him, your mouth on the spot he wants to bind your soul to his.

He holds one of your hands in both of his hands so gently as you cup his hip and bite down, even as you begin to make out the noise of gang members coming up the attic stairs. Yoongi bites down a moan, lets you take one gasp of blood into your mouth before your teeth leave his skin.

The high rushes over him and he knows his pupils are mirrors of yours, black and dilated. He just has time to wipe his blood from your mouth and get you as close as he can, before the attic door creaks, the barrel of a gun pushing it open. And the gangsters enter the room with practiced steps.

Yoongi pulls his shirt back down just before they have a chance to see.

You play the part, slumping against him and letting him take the reigns. the people must take it for pain even though you’re shaking not with sobs, but from the feeling of Yoongi’s soul intertwining with yours. Full body shivers and something solidifying between the two of you.

Together you shake, Yoongi is barely aware of the gangsters clearing the room.

You feel like you can taste his thoughts, though you can’t actually hear what he's thinking. You can feel the way they tumble like small waves over each other. You feel concern and something else, something that feels an offal lot like love shoot down the fledgling bond as Yoongi’s arms pull you up, firmer against him.

It makes shivers rise on every inch of your skin, the pleasure he feels when he touches you that you're now hyper-aware of. It's what your body has been craving- the completion of the bond.

You both bleed- your blood dripping onto the floor. One part sacrament and sacred love and another part poisonous longing for a man you hated so much more than you ever loved him. This feels strange, it feels wrong, and that you have one part of you reaching out for something that’s not there. And then this- with Yoongi, right and front of you and inside of you. Completely occupying your heart and your mind and your body.

Accept for that one poisoned inch; you might not be completely his, but it's enough now, the bond with yoongi occupying those thoughts you'd had minutes before.

The gangsters don’t touch Geumjae, at least until Moonbyul enters the room, unarmed. Yoongi’s cousin eyes Yoongi from the door. There isn’t enough room in this torture room for the 12 or so gangsters and the three of you, they press against the walls, guns at the ready.

Moonbyul approaches Geumjae’s corpse, turning him over with her foot to see his blankly staring face, turning it towards the heavens instead of hell. For a moment, Yoongi thinks she might actually kick him. She plucks her pink handgun from the floor. Someone passes her a rag and she wipes it free of blood and fingerprints.

Her eyes on Yoongi are hard; a bit of mirth playing on the edge of her mouth as she plays her hand. A queen in a room full of pawns and knights, and the king underfoot. Her hand of aces.

Betting it all on a simple game of roulette- red or black- will Yoongi challenge her or not. Yoongi doesn't miss the way her finger hovers on the trigger.

“I suppose this entire situation would be concerning to me- if you hadn’t already named me as Don.” she nudges Geumjae's body again with her foot. "I guess he didn't take it well?"

She lies effortlessly, taking the moment to seize power. So this was what she was waiting for. Yoongi doesn’t challenge her words for fear of what she might do right now, not that he really would anyway.

Yoongi tips his head forward in difference, “No he didn’t,”

Moonbyul tucks her gun back into her waistband, and holds out her hand to pull yoongi to his feet.

Yoongi takes you with him, small and still a little high in his arms. You hide your face in Yoongi’s shoulder, Holding onto him tight. You don’t know if you could take it if they tried to separate you now.

Yoongi has to swallow to continue, struggling to think before he speaks with so many new sensations shocking his body. He's intimately aware of the way you shift in his arms, arms tightening around you at the very idea of you moving more than an inch away from him right now as you settle onto your own two feet. still a little unsteady.

“He- he mated her against her will, and then he tried to kill us when I told him I wouldn’t- and- and after-” It’s not a lie- not really, but it still feels that way. Moonbyul doesn't need to do anything more than that to nod to call her men off, and they all relax around the room.

They instantly fade from engaged concern to understanding. The other heads of household will probably grill Yoongi more. But you’ve both got time to get your story straight. For now, they need to clean up the body.

It helps that threatening the beta is a punishable offense; no one will question Yoongi killing him- especially since they’re brothers. Most of the families tend to think that inner house spats that family's business. Yoongi doesn’t know which of his relatives will inherit the title of head of the Min family, but it won't be Yoongi.

You’re small and silent in Yoongi’s arms, so vulnerable, he keeps you a few paces away from any of the mobsters, bites down a growl whenever any of them come too close to his mate. It’s just the mating bond making it’s self-known. You are his. No one can touch you.

Yoongi has never been a possessive man, but now he is. The mating mark tearing through him and screaming at him to protect, to provide, to nurture, and keep safe. He strokes down your back as his cousin quietly orders the others to clean up the mess and Geumjae’s body. The family has cleanup crews on call for this very reason.

They quietly offer to burn the house down to stage the death but Yoongi doesn’t care. He guesses it belongs to him now or maybe you. It depends on which bond the family will consider more important; the bonds of a half mating or the bond of brotherhood.

“I’ll handle it-“ his cousin has the good grace to offer comfort to Yoongi that way when he gets you into her car. she doesn't say anything about the dents in the side.

Yoongi doesn’t quite hate her for any of this, but he doesn’t trust her the same way he did before either. She’s gotten what she wanted- the Don position. Plucked it from Yoongi’s hands.

“You haven’t had a chance to call the heads of house and tell them about your decision yet, but after that, you should be free to go” she reads him easily as always, The only other manipulator up to par with Yoongi himself in the gang. She knows that not an inch of Yoongi wants to stay in this house or this city a second longer.

At the idea of leaving you to straighten up in Yoongi’s lap to listen in a little more, you share a look with Yoongi. Your mate, your body sings the eye contact makes you shiver in your seat. Yoongi pulls you closer, stroking up to your arm mistakenly thinking you’re cold. You pull yourself closer to him- but it feels like you can’t get close enough, He makes a dissatisfied noise in his throat.

Yoongi will have to get used to this feeling. Like his soul is walking outside of his body. It feels incredibly vulnerable and intimate- He can feel your panic, how physically you’re being torn apart right now, every few minutes you shake. Yoongi puts your legs over his and holds you close. Watching your face closely for every twinge of pain as the lights of the city flicker over you two.

The meeting with the heads of house is tense, though the usual group of is two short now, standing only at eleven members now that Geumjae is gone and Moonbyul is named Don. You cannot be Don and a head of house at the same time.

It takes every bone in Yoongi’s body to let you be taken into the other room by Moonbyul’s mate to check over your injuries. He stops her with a hand on her shoulder. He catches Moonbyul’s nostrils flare, but she doesn’t say anything. “Would you look at her bruises for me?”

Later Yoongi will check them himself, again and again until he's sure you're all right. But the sooner you get ice on the nastier bruises the better off you’ll be. Someone should look at your ribs and your head too- he has half a mind to take you to the hospital before you leave the city. He doesn’t know how long it will be before you’re stationary again. He’d stay in the city tonight if you needed to. But he can feel your panic down the bond, The sooner you both get out of here the better.

With Geumjae dead there is no true opposition against his cousin's rule. She stands at the head of the table like she’s meant to be there. And still- the heads of the families talk through the night, kicking the non-proverbial dead horse into the ground. There is little mourning for Geumjae, one granny who cries faintly in the other room while the heads argue. Yoongi supposes he should look more upset, but no one pays attention to him now that he’s made his choice.

No, what they spend most of the time discuss is you. Sat in the other room, able to hear all of this, the men and woman weighing your fate and deciding what to do with you. If Yoongi listens, he can hear Hyejin’s quiet voice. Can feel your discomfort as the ice hits your ribs, maybe broken, definitely badly bruised.

Yoongi flinches every time he feels the pain pulse down the bond. Maybe in time, it will feel less sensitive but right now- Yoongi can feel your hurts just as bad as he can feel his own. A part of him is reaching out into the other room, screaming in his ear to go comfort his mate.

He has a mate. Yoongi can scarcely believe it.

The gangsters around the table remain blissfully unaware of that fact. Most of the heads are on the same page, and he won’t reveal his mating mark unless he absolutely needs to, he will let that secret stay secret unless necessary. It’s a good bargaining chip. They wouldn’t kill you if they knew it was going to kill him too. But still- it’s hard to hear them argue over your fate when he can’t intervene.

“You know the rules- no divorces and no separations,” one alpha says, he’s older- nearing 60, but Yoongi can’t excuse that cruelty with age. The youngest, the head of the Ahn house does the rebutting for Yoongi, and he bites his tongue.

“But it wouldn’t be a divorce; she’s his widow now and his ex-mate technically.”

“Yes but that’s only a half bond.” There is only one omega head, and the woman snubs her long cigarette out on the table leaving an ashy circle

“It’s only the alpha bite that matters- or have you forgotten?”

To her credit, the omega doesn't back down. “Chances are she’ll die anyway why are we even talking about her, we should start transitioning already.”

“That’s easy to say- if she’s got nothing left to lose what’s to stop her from going to the police.”

“I can keep an eye on her,” Yoongi volunteers, jumping at the chance to turn the discussion to his favor. They can all go fuck themselves if they ever dare to try and hurt you. “You say she’s as good as dead anyway. So you shouldn't mind if she comes with me.”

The likelihood of anyone living after their mate dies is in the teens. Yoongi knew that and even then he bonded to you anyway. He can only hope that with his bite coursing through your veins and your body confused that you’ve got better odds than that. Yoongi did what he promised to do, now your odds are both 50/50. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t go to the police.”

Through the bond he can feel your curiosity and a little bit of fear too, you’re listening in. And he does his best to let his calmness comfort you too. Your panic instantly relaxes and he senses you reaching out. If you were next to Yoongi you’d be holding hands, and it kind of feels that way. If you could ever hold hands with someone’s soul.

“You realize that if you make her your responsibility, anything bad that happens will fall on your head as well” their betas might be sacred- but they aren’t free from the rest of the laws of the gang.

“I understand.” The Don lifts her head, regarding Yoongi with a heavy look. “She’s his widow and whether we want to address it now or not, the law says she’s inherited his wealth.”

It's met with immediate opposition, several heads of house start speaking over each other at once, but Yoongi speaks up again, shouting over them. A beta raising their voice is about as strange as one giving or getting a mating bite, everyone falls silent. “Give it to me or her- I don’t care.”

another few minutes and they’re ready to let you go. they vote on it, and only 3 out of 11 heads vote to have you killed. Moonbyul gives the all clear, “Then you’re free to go.” Yoongi doesn’t even say goodbye, going to you in the other room just as quickly as he can without outright running. The Don’s mate is crouched in front of where you sit. Your body is mostly clean of blood and you’ve been put in other clothes; a pair of sweats and a baggy shirt.

Yoongi can see all the bruises on the side of your face turning purple and Yoongi wants to cup your face and bring it to his, kiss away the pain coloring your skin like watercolors, but can’t do it here. “Do we need to go to the hospital?”

“Not for her but maybe for you, no ones checked you over yet, have they?”

yoongi grits his teeth, seconds away from snapping at hyejin, he wants her to get away, get as far from you as possible. “i asked if she needed the hospital.”

Hyejin stands when Yoongi crouches. shaking her head when it becomes clear yoongi isn’t to be argued with right now. “There’s something wrong with her- but I think you know what” her eyes hover on Yoongi’s hip.

So at least she’s figured it out. She has the good sense to utter the words quietly. Though the people in the other room aren’t concerned with Yoongi anymore, they’ve already launched into discussions about transitioning power and re-defining responsibilities. It seems Moonbyul had a plan on how she wanted the family to run from the beginning.

He shakes off his annoyance, “Thank you,” he says to the omega, holding out a hand to you, which you take, still not saying anything. Tiredness holding you down to the chair. The same kind of look you’d had when Geumjae had died. The mating mark has been taped over but some of the blackness is still there. Yoongi wonders when it will fade, if it ever does.

“I wish I could say I’ll see you soon but I don’t think I will.” You and Yoongi nod, your hands twined between the two of you. She knows that neither you nor Yoongi has a love for the gang. No one stops you and Yoongi when you leave the house. Immediately hailing a taxi. You stop only at Yoongi’s safe house for a spare 20 minutes, while he packs up a fraction of his belongings in a hurried rush, anything to get out before someone tries to change their mind.

If Geumjae had any hidden loyalists the beta that killed him and his runaway wife would be the first targets. Let alone their reaction if they knew who had really killed Geumjae. The quicker the two of you get away from the city the better.

You end up at the train station, Yoongi breaks the bracelets off of your wrist- the same ones that he saw you wear on you the first night- and the ones that he’s always thought looked like shackles. He yanks at them as hard as he can until they snap; kissing your wrist after each one is off. You throw them over the side of the chain-link fence and into the darkness- to be lost forever you hope. The symbols of all you’ve lost.

When you get on the train, you cuddle close under Yoongi’s jacket and into his warmth. He’s a protective barrier between you and the third seat that thankfully remains empty this late into the night it’s so late it’s nearly early morning. Most of the train is empty besides an elderly couple at the front. Regardless, the two of you sit behind them. Yoongi can’t take his eyes off of the potential threat. Actually flinches when the conductor comes around to stamp your tickets.

You head off into the night- your little box of light in a sea of street lamps and hidden dangers. You almost fall asleep a few times, head bobbing as you catching yourself before it hits his shoulder. After the third time this happens he pulls you in close, tucks your head close to his scent gland, and commands “sleep” in a voice that you cannot disobey.

Eventually, you wake, the car is bright with the midday sun and the car is half full. Yoongi’s eyes are bloodshot as they train on every passenger who comes in and leaves your train car. Yoongi holds your hand, rubbing his thumb up and down the back in an endless trail. A conductor opens the door of your train car to pass through, bunching a few tickets here and there from the new passengers who have boarded the train.

He passes by where you're bundled and Yoongi flinches so hard it wakes you fully. his shoulder accidentally nudging a bruise on your cheek, He murmurs his apologies, panicked hands fussing over you. He could feel that he hit one of your bruises and the horror of hurting you make him wide-eyed and worried. You catch his hands, pressing the pads of them to your lips. Yoongi's hands shake as they touch you, hours later, he's still high on adrenaline.

“You need to sleep Yoongi” it’s been a long few days for both of you.

He doesn’t answer with more than a grunt. But you get off the train at the next stop and it’s nearing noon by the time the two of you stumble across the street to a motel, and it’s shitty and smells like cigarettes and the lady at the front desk asks if you need the hourly rate or the daily rate. Though she does give you a discount because Yoongi’s a beta. Eyeing the blood-soaked collar of his jacket and the bloody bandages on your neck.

You should be holed up somewhere safe away from prying eyes to adjust to your new mating bite- not in a hotel where the smells of other people assault your nose. Making you press close to Yoongi because everything smells so new and scary. Like your senses have been turned up and only Yoongi can quell their sensitivity.

you don’t realize that the attendant gave you two beds until you get to the room. you both stare blankly before you cough and separated. the closeness too much now that you’re alone and free from threats. Though it doesn't feel that way.

you hate it- you don’t want to curl up across the room from Yoongi- you want to be next to him. you almost whimper when he He steps away to the other bed to set down his backpack. You want to cry, your skin feels irritated and itchy without his pressed to yours. You want him to touch you but you can’t stay it. Don’t know how to ask around the thickness in your throat.

He gets a clean shirt from his black backpack and helps you put it on so that you don’t irritate the mating bite. You can’t lift either of your arms much and neither can he but he pushes through the pain for you. He only has 2 or three sets of clothes that he grabbed from the cottage, and it’s all you’ve got.

“We’ll get some more clothes for you tomorrow.” He doesn’t say that you should have grabbed some of your clothes- because you both know you couldn’t handle staying in that house a second more than was necessary. You barely thought to linger long enough to grab your purse, which thankfully had everything you really need in it.

Somehow he has athletic tape in his bag, and he spends a few minutes changing out your soaked through bandages, bundling up toilet paper, and taping it over your mating bite. Only after yours is taken care of does he let you do the same for his bite on his hip, and the burns on his hands.

You pull his pants off and then his boxers down just enough so that you can get at it, small from your mouth, the skin around it irritated and pink. You try not to let your eyes hover on the small happy trail that traces from his belly button downwards. The band on his boxers is stained with blood- and you wonder how much it hurt to have it dig into it all day.

You curl up in separate beds, and only when you’re under the covers do you slide off your pants. leaving you only in a large shirt that smells like yoongi. Yoongi does the same, says “goodnight” and shuts off the light but doesn’t turn away from you, keeping his eyes on you in the darkness.

You’re silent for a few minutes, but you can tell that neither of you is falling asleep. Your bed feels cold and you wonder if he feels the same, you let the distance hurt for a minute before you give in.

"Thank fucking god-" He peels back the blanket for you the second you make the move and dash across the cold room. you scoot into his warmth and he lets out a little ‘oof’ when you collide. Letting him pull you closer, put the blanket over your back, and make sure all of your skin is covered.

It’s not enough for Yoongi and he pulls you sideways so that he can get some of his weight on top of you. A growl building in his chest at the thought of anyone walking through the door right now.

He needs to check the lock, make sure that no one can possibly disturb you. Needs to- the instinct filling him so harshly he can’t breathe. He tries to pull away, but your hands tighten on him, and you let out a whine so heartbreaking that instantly has him releasing comforting chocolate, flopping back on top of you nuzzling under your chin, you feel like you’re drowning in it.

Your love with Yoongi is still too new and raw to be close like this without feeling shy- and yet you can’t resist, your mating bond is like a fresh burn that you can’t stop picking at because it hurts. (Like there’s something dead there that you need to get rid of, you can’t heal around, you need to tear it out so that it feels more like bleeding rather than something that was carved out by hungry heat.) You fiddle with the bandage at your neck before Yoongi takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together.

For a moment, you crave the release that blood might give you- and like he can feel it. Yoongi presses a kiss to the back of your hand. “Couldn’t sleep?” Yoongi says. You shake your head. The motel creeks and overhead you can hear someone else moving in an adjacent room. Yoongi gets his head on your pillow and adjusts his hand around your waist so that he’s not hitting the vicious bruise that Geumjae left with one of his kicks.

The last 24 hours have been such a tangle. It feels weird to not move now. Yoongi’s heart is still hammering; you can feel it under your palm. You’re both unwilling to relax and close your eyes even for a second even though you’re both exhausted.

You’re worried if you close your eyes you’re going to see Geumjae's face.

Yoongi left the light in the bathroom on for you. Sensing that the shadows would be too thick with nightmares for you to handle for long. You look at each other in the darkness before Yoongi lets out a shaky little giggle.

“Do you know what I just realized?” he says, the words quieted against the too scratchy bedspread. “We could have gotten a better hotel, we easily have enough money for it now” and that’s true.

If Yoongi’s orders were followed and the gang's accountant really did transfer all of your inherited wealth to your name then- fuck- both of you saw the bank statements. Both of you know how much money Yoongi’s family had amassed- the same wealth that Geumjae had inherited and now you.

“Fuck you’re right,” you say, ducking in so that you don’t have to meet Yoongi’s eyes. Geumjae used to hit you sometimes if you did that- and trained habits die-hard.

yoongi kisses your brow, slow little pecks that travel down your cheeks, as unhurried as they are sweet. It's strange to be close to him now when it’s all you’ve wanted for the last few months. You never thought you’d get this. It feels like a daydream and a nightmare all at once.

“We could buy a whole house- or three” and even then you’d have more than enough money to live on after. For the rest of your days, comfortable and cozy even if you were foolish with the money. Yoongi still gets his stipend from the gang. No doubt to be greater now that he’s the only beta.

He stops his kisses, mouth hovering on your cheek, “We could do that.” he sounds like he’s barely containing his excitement.

You’ll both be fine. Neither of you will ever have to worry about money again and it makes you feel sick and happy with something that feels a terrible lot like grief.

Even if you got that- the last 24 hours haven’t been worth it. You’re not entirely out of the woods yet. The mark on your shoulder is scabbing over and inky. But every few hours of closeness that the two of you have- Yoongi think’s he sees the color fade- just a little bit.

You don’t know where the giggle comes from but one moment it comes out of your mouth and you laugh, and Yoongi joins in the sound startling out of his chest. He presses his forehead tight against yours and sighs at the sound. You see the moment clarity falls on him and an idea settles into his mind the second it hits. And dim happiness settles over your bond.

Yoongi lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses your bruised knuckles. “Let's buy a house.”

You smile- tired from today but still willing to placate him. “Okay Yoongi, we can do that.”

Now finally, his eyes are starting to droop, every few seconds he tries to keep them open, but you know he's seconds away from sleep. His words slurred when they whisper, his sweet chocolaty breath tickling your cheeks. “Goodnight sweetheart- love you.”

“Love you too,” it’s the first time you’ve ever said those words to each other. It feels like the first of many times you’ll say it. Forever- you and Yoongi will be mated together until you both die. And who cares if that happens tomorrow or months from now. Who cares? Because you have him and that’s all that matters.

Yoongi holds you and knows- that he will love you- as long as he can.

He watches you sleep, waits until your eyes are closed. Until he can make sure you’re safe and warm. A gentle purring fills the hotel room, soft and peaceful. yoongi hears it louder when he presses his ear to your chest. He tries to keep his eyes open, but somewhere around the second hour- they fall closed.

Neither of you dream.

—————

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wri0thesley · 3 years

Note

Hello Nat! It's me! The same anon who sent the Househusband Risotto asks a few weeks ago. Could I request a fic of Risotto with no.21(a Househusband au) and some pregnancy fluff? Congrats on 5k (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

brand new - risotto x reader

you have something to tell your husband.

warnings: soft fluff, sfw. afab reader, no pronouns. pregnancy, talk of children, brief allusions to risotto’s past life.

You’re surprised by just how easily Risotto falls into a domestic life.

You’d thought that his past would haunt him more; the fallen comrades, the Mafia business, the blood on his hands – but he’s surprisingly pragmatic about it, when you hesitantly bring it up.

“It happened,” he says. “I miss them. But I’ve been given a chance that they didn’t get, and I intend to take it.”

It’s more than your stoic, quiet husband usually says at once, and you feel it pierce your heart like an arrow. Your hand brushes over his broad shoulder in as much comfort as you can give him, and Risotto looks at you with the lightest smile on his lips that makes you feel like the luckiest person in the whole universe.

Risotto becomes the house-husband as if he’s been waiting to be able to do it for his whole life.

Oh, he makes some mistakes – some little things, like washing a pair of your red underwear in with some shirts that you wear for work. Planting the wrong kind of seedlings at the wrong time of year – trying to fix the plumbing himself instead of calling a plumber.

You two muddle along, but as a whole Risotto seems to be thriving, and that makes your heart leap in your chest like a prima ballerina.

Your heart thumps double when you come home after a long day of work and he already has dinner simmering on the stove, an apron wrapped around his broad frame – it’s emblazoned with the legend; “Hot Stuff Coming Through (and I don’t mean the food)”. You breathe in the scent of his cooking; something deep and rich.

You come up behind him and wrap your arms about him, resting your cheek on the centre of his back.

His muscle has gone a little soft now that he’s not working out so often or in as many life-or-death situations, but he’s still broad and amazing and perfect for holding onto.

“Smells great,” you say, sighing, kicking off your heels in kitchen to be put away later. Risotto’s eyes stray to them all higgledy-piggledy on the floor, and he frowns;

“Nonna’s recipe,” he says. “Aren’t you going to put those in the shoe rack?”

“I’ve only just gotten home,” you pout at him, but your pout quickly breaks into a smile as you see the exhaustedly fond expression on his face.

Now that he’s not an assassin – now that he doesn’t need to hide everything he’s feeling under the guise of being cool and cold and collected – Risotto’s face seems to move more. He finds it easier to express his emotions. It’s still little things; twitches and furrows, instead of his entire face transforming – but it’s more than before.

He’s comfortable. He’s happy.

You, and him, and the little world that you’ve build all around you two.

You bend over to pick up your heels, opening your mouth to say something over-dramatic about his newfound house pride – but you’re stopped by an ache that shoots down to the centre of your back, a noise of pain escaping you before Risotto can turn lightning quick and wrap a strong arm around you.

“Are you alright?” He’s asking, brow creasing slightly in concern. Panic flares in your stomach – you don’t want to tell him like this.

“Y-yeah,” you laugh it off, straightening up with your shoes in your hand, the other going to massage your back where you can reach. “Guess I was just sat in the wrong position at work for too long, huh?”

Risotto looks sceptical, but he can’t leave his boiling pots for too long. With a searching look at you, he returns to the stove, murmuring low;

“I’ll give you a massage later.”

You smile at his back as you walk towards the shoe rack in the hallway. You know that saying that will have made him blush; despite how long the two of you have been married now, he’s still nervous about things like that. His hands still shake a little when he goes to hold you. He still licks his lips before he kisses you, murmuring in a deep voice;

“Is it really alright?”

You always wind your arms around his neck and pull him in as your way of reassuring him that it’s perfectly fine. It’s hard, you think, for him to accept that he deserves all of this – but you’re eternally glad that the two of you get to share it together.

Little reminders of your shared home and life are scattered all about your home. A picture of you and Risotto at your wedding, framed and hung in the hallway; his suit is a little too tight, because he left it too long and it couldn’t be tailored properly to address the fact that he’s built like a superhero.

A bookshelf that has your romantic novels next to his own gothic horrors; a skull candle that burns red from its eyes as it melts perched on top. Also perched on top is a trinket dish that he made and painted for you at a pottery class he attended to try and get him out of the house whilst you were at work – you use it to dump your keys in.

It’s supposed to be a heart shape, but it’s more of a very uneven kidney.

The carpet you two had chosen together; you’d wanted something cheaper, but Risotto had insisted you could afford this one – he’d been right, and it’s soft beneath your stockinged feet.

You love him so much.

Your hand cups your stomach protectively now that you’re out of Risotto’s sight. You think of the tiny life inside of you; half Risotto, half you, already loved more than they’ll ever know even without Risotto knowing that it’s there. You can’t wait to tell him.

His hands are gentle on your shoulders, big and warm and softer than they once were. They’re still a little calloused from the garden work he enjoys doing, but he no longer handles weapons and you buy him sandalwood-scented hand cream instead.

They feel so good as they slide down your shoulder blades, brushing the notches of your spine, soothing circles pressed into your skin with his thumb. You sigh, relaxing into him. The feel of the palm flat against the small of your back – where the ache is the most pronounced – makes you relax even further into him, toes curling, a sigh escaping your mouth of relief.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” He asks you, his voice measured. Your eyes flicker open from where they’ve closed in comfort.

“W-what’s wrong?” You ask him, nervously, and Risotto makes an ‘mm’ noise in the back of his throat. His hands do not stop the massage as he goes.

“You’ve been out of it for days,” he tells you.

(He’s right. You’ve been out of it since Monday, and it’s now Thursday; Monday is the day you’d woken up with your stomach heaving, remembered how long it had been since your last period, and bought a pregnancy test on your way to work. You’ve done three more since then, and all of them have showed the exact same result.)

“Have I?”

His hands move to your shoulders, gently twisting you around.

“You have,” he says, his red-and-dark eyes fixed firmly on you. “If there’s something wrong, I’d like to fix it.”

“It’s nothing you’ve done!” You say, all in a rush, but Risotto has successfully caught you nonetheless; his eyes narrow.

“So it is something?”

Heat rushes to your face. You forget, sometimes, because he cooks dinner and does the gardening and goes to his pottery class, that he was a battle-hardened mafia assassin who has done more interrogations than you will probably ever know (you never bring up his former employ unless he brings it up first). He’s an expert at gently needling the truth out of people.

“It’s not something that’s wrong,” you say, weakly, but his eyes are still pinning you in place.

“Tell me,” is all he says.

You think, in the back of your head, you’d had some kind of grand plans to reveal your secret – maybe involving balloons, and a cake, and a little party hat perched on top of Risotto’s silvery pale hair. You think you wanted to make a big deal out of it; one more reminder that the world he left behind is well and truly in his past now. But now you’re on the bed with him and he’s looking at you so tenderly in a soft grey shirt for sleeping and a pair of loose boxer shorts, all ruffled and sleepy and domestic . . . Now feels like a good time too.

“I’m pregnant,” you tell him.

You swear that you could hear a pin drop.

He blinks at you, as if he can’t properly process the statement.

“You’re—”

“We’re having a baby.”

“Oh my God.” His voice is very small. He reaches out, hesitantly, eyes wide – big hand hovering over your stomach. “Can I . . .?”

“Yes,” you say, breathless as his hand rests on it. It’s not curving, yet; the fancy test you’d bought today and done in the bathroom at work had said it thought you were well past three weeks, but that’s still early days. Your eyes stare down at Risotto’s scarred, huge fingers – so careful with you, despite what he’s had to do to survive.

“I can’t believe it,” he tells you, and your throat feels tight.

“Me neither,” you admit. “But . . . I’m happy.”

He meets your eyes. There are tears brimming in his – you have never seen Risotto Nero cry. You’ve seen him sad, of course (a sad downturn to his mouth when a dog dies in a movie, or when the rosebush he’d been carefully cultivating had failed to achieve a single bloom) – but there’s an actual tear rolling down his cheek, sparkling in the bedroom light.

“Me too,” he says, and it seems entirely natural. Entirely true. Your heart aches with how much you love him.

You two don’t say anything for a few minutes, content to just look at each other, the warm knowledge of what you’re sharing making the air seem hazy and unreal.

You think about the pitter patter of little feet. The spare room you can turn into a nursery. Going to pre-natal classes with Risotto, choosing baby clothes, seeing him out and about pushing a fancy perambulator (you’ve always wanted one of those tacky, over the top ones that look like a Victorian nanny’s contraption, and you know that Risotto will agree to it--).

You think about him in the delivery room, your nails making crescent moon cuts in his palm. You think about his encouraging tone; you think about the hand-grown flowers he’ll no doubt bring you.

You imagine him cradling a little bundle of joy; tiny in his huge arms. His lips leaving gentle kisses on tiny foreheads. Him reading to your baby, him tending to scrapes, him and you and your child and the life that neither of you ever thought you’d get to live together.

His face is shining, fully transformed. He sees you looking at him with droplets shimmering in your tear ducts and he wipes them away with one big, warm thumb.

“I know,” he says. “It’s not just for me. It’s for all of them, too.”

“Yes,” you say to him. Your voice breaks, pitches, as you manage to get out: “I’m so happy we get to spend the rest of our lives together.”

He looks at you, so tender you feel like you’ll come apart under his gaze.

This moment is going to shimmer in your memory forever, you think. You’re glad that this was how the reveal went. This is much more like the two of you than any fancy reveal or ribbon or cake (you might still get a cake, anyway – Risotto has a sweet tooth).

“I love you,” he says, like warmth that wraps about your heart. And then; “What about naming it Formaggio?”

There’s a beat. You stare at him.

Both of your mouths stretch into a smile, a soft huff of laughter escaping his lips that makes you feel like you’re listening to a symphony.

“Maybe we should workshop names a bit more,” you tell him.

He agrees.

#risotto x reader #risotto nero x reader #risotto fluff #jjba fluff #sfw #writing #jjba x reader #risotto nero #jojo postin #afab reader #neutral pronouns #5555 event fic

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ghost-ghost-baby · 3 years

Text

I’ll put a spell on you (Yandere!Omega!Izuku x alpha!Reader)

inspo was strange and beautiful (I’ll put a spell on you) by aqualung

a/n: boy oh boy,,,, this one is uh,,, 2k words,,,,

Summary: You were taking too long! What could Izuku do except find a spell to help speed things along?

You and Izuku have been roommates for years, but you’re convinced he doesn’t like you and he’s determined to make you his.

warnings: big yandere themes,,, omegaverse obvi,,,, kinda drugging??? idk,,,, its a love spell but reader is already very in love w izuku just stupid aye,,,, very very mild nsfw themes,,,, cuts out b4 it gets too graphic, swearing, bonding, you get the picture,

“Seriously, Katsuki, you’ve gotten way too confident over the years. Was it because you needed a reminder of what it’s like to lose?” Your eyes scanned the blonde, eyebrow quirked as he struggled, “I can’t believe Shinso was right.” It was easy to block out the screams, your quirk always came in handy, even if it was just to shut him up, Rubbing your hands on your pants you turned around, eyes landing on the only other person.

“Oh, good luck Midoriya!” You grinned, giving a small wave before you ran off.

You saw more of Izuku after that, the omega always seemed to be upgrading his costume, and Hatsume had almost killed you when he’d asked you to help with the designs. It was hard not to get close to the guy, and you’d tried your best! You didn’t have time for… for people! You needed to focus on your inventions. But Izuku was persistent, and you’d soon found yourself sitting with him and his friends at lunch. You weren’t the only alpha of the group, Iida and Todoroki shared your dynamic, a fact that didn’t seem to bother anyone. You were glad, you’d never really cared about dynamics, it was nice to be around people who shared that sentiment. You’d all graduated now, and surprisingly you and Izuku ended up sharing an apartment, you did work in the same area, it made sense at the time.

“Are we still having dinner tonight?” Izuku peered into the bathroom, slight frown on his features as he observed you getting ready.

“Yeah of course man, it’s just a lunch date so I’ll be back early.” You shrugged, using your quirk to bring your jacket over.

“You could just ask me to get you your jacket.” Izuku shook his head, watching as the clothing floated over, bubble popping as your hand made contact.

“I know, it’s just a habit, I’ve always used it for little things.” You smiled as you put your jacket on, ruffling Izuku’s hair as you walked past. He was always fussing over you, or cooking, asking if you needed anything. It was cute, but you’d die before you admitted it.

“I’ll be back before you know it, text me if you need anything.” You absentmindedly pressed a kiss to Izuku’s hair, waving before the door shut behind you.

“And you’re sure this’ll work?” Izuku frowned as he flipped the bottle in his fingers, it seemed too good to be true.

“Just like the label says, omega, it’ll make anyone fall in love with ya! As long as there’s already a spark, of course! And it could trigger… their time of the month. So watch out for that!” The lady smiled at him, dark purple hair framing her face. Her eyes matched, although the purple was much, much brighter, and almost seemed to glow. Izuku nodded, grabbing the cash out of his wallet and quickly passing it over before he said goodbye. He didn’t want to be caught there, what would the press say? What would you say?

You ended up getting home late, much, much later than you planned. You’d run into friends on the way home, you hadn’t seen them in ages and well… you’d never been good at saying no. You’d texted Izuku, but he hadn’t responded, and maybe you’d stayed out later to avoid his wrath.

“God, I’m gonna have to do something to make up for this… something good.” You mumbled as you walked into your apartment, hands running through your hair as you looked around.

“Izuku? Honey I’m home!” You called, trying to lighten the tension you felt in the room. It didn’t work, and your heart was in your throat as you put your bag down. You hated disappointing people, and Izuku was always so good to you.

“There’s leftovers in the fridge if you want anything.”

“”Oh actually I’m uh… not hungry…” You trailed off as you walked into the kitchen, Izuku turning around from making something to look at you.

“Did you eat while you were out?” You must be crazy, there’s no way that was an edge to his voice.

“No actually! I just haven’t had any appetite lately.”

“You know you need to try and eat even when you have no appetite. I made tea.” Just like that his voice was back to it’s usual tone, and he sat down in front of you, pushing a mug towards you.

“Yeah I know. Thank you Izuku, you’re always so good to me. I’m so sorry about missing dinner but I ran into my friends coming home and they dragged me out and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay Y/n, we can have dinner tomorrow, just finish your tea and we’ll get you into bed, okay?”

You were too drunk to disagree.

You felt weird when you woke up. You weren’t hungover, but something was wrong. Was Izuku okay? Wait, why were you- you should make sure he’s okay. You were only in a shirt, you didn't remember changing last night, did Izuku help you? You barely remembered anything after you’d come home, you’d just talked, drank the tea, and then it was blank. The tea had been really good, it was weirdly sweet though, you had to admit.

“Izuku? Are you awake?” You padded into the kitchen, squinting at how bright it was.

“Of course, it’s already two, I didn’t want to wake you up.” You sighed when Izuku was there, safe and happy as he always was.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just… hungover or something.” You slid into a chair, eyes trained on the omega as he pushed a banana and some water in front of you. “They’re good for hangovers.”

“Thanks ‘Zu”

“You’re going out?” You couldn’t keep the surprise from your voice, Izuku rarely went out unless he was working.

“Yeah just a work thing! I’ll be back in no time!” The omega came over to where you were on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket because you still felt off. “Unless you need me to stay?”

“No of course not! I’ll be fine, it’s probably just a bug.” You did your best to smile, letting your friend hug you. He was about to pull away when you let your cheek brush against his scent gland, the action making you blush while Izuku smiled.

“I’ll see you when I get back!”

This was awful, you’d been tortured, kidnapped, forced to deal with Katsuki, but this was far worse. You couldn’t explain it, but as soon as Izuku was out of your sight your anxiety had skyrocketed, and as much as you tried to fight it, you were pacing in front of the door. He should be back by now, or he should have texted! What if he’d gotten hurt, he didn’t tell you who he was going out with, what if-

“Yeah Todoroki I’m okay, he was worse off than me anyway!” Your heart soared at Izuku’s voice and you were wrenching the door open without a second thought. A snarl ripped out of you when you took in your omega, sporting a few grazes and a bruised jaw that had not been there when he left.

“What the fuck happened?” Your tone didn’t even sound like you, you sounded feral. Your hands quickly reached out, pulling Izuku into a hug and growling when Todoroki tried to say something. “You can leave, I’ve got him now.”

Straight to your room was where you headed, gently sitting Izuku on the bed before you grabbed your first aid kit. Thank god it was only light injuries, you didn’t know what you’d do if something worse had happened.

“Who did this?”

“Just some random alpha tryna get too handsy, he’s in far worse shape than- are you okay?” Izuku’s tone turned concerned as you let out another growl, halfway through bandaging his hand. You couldn’t speak, you just needed to focus on this and- huh? Izuku was running his fingers through your hair, the action almost made you purr, surprisingly calming you down enough to finish patching him up.

“I should have gone with you, I should have-” “Hey, Y/n, you couldn’t have done anything, it’s okay.” Izuku pulled you up to his level and you nodded, unable to stop how your hands shook. Izuku was so close, and he smelled so good, you just wanted to-

“Did you just lick me?” Izuku looked at you with wide eyes, only now taking in how lidded your own eyes were. A low growl bubbled up before you could stop it, and you were pushing the omega down on the bed and straddling him without a second thought. This had happened because of you. If you’d claimed Izuku sooner people would know he was yours, and he wouldn’t have to defend himself. Your teeth were an inch from Izuku’s neck when you pulled back, hand coming up to cover your mouth.

“I-I’m so sorry, I don’t know what-”

“I don’t want you to stop, please Y/n.” Izuku’s cheeks were tinged pink, and god why’d you have to sit right on his hips? You could already feel him getting hard.

“Oh god, did I send you into heat? Fuck I’m sorry, I’ve been on suppressants I didn’t real-” You started, it was taking everything you had not to lose it. Izuku looked so pretty, pupils blown out and cheeks already flushed. Why hadn’t you done this sooner? Fuck. You slowly leant down, willpower decreasing by the second, and then your lips were on his. A whimper left you at how good he tasted, you’d never tasted anything this good before! You wanted more! Izuku was made for you, this only proved it. You loved him so much.

Why did your neck hurt so bad? The last thing you remembered was Izuku being injured and you patching him up. A whine made you open your eyes, disbelief shooting through you when you saw Izuku. He was covered in scratches and bites, only wearing your shirt, and sporting a bright red bite on his scent gland. Oh fuck, panic set in as you sat up. This was bad, even for you. You'd done it now, he'd want nothing to do with you. God what had happened to you last night? You were always in control, and as memories of how Izuku had sounded the night before wormed into your brain you couldn't stop your whole body flushing. The omega let out another whine, snuggling closer to your side as if he could sense how stressed you were. Well, he probably could now, the two of you were bonded. You'd completely ruined his life with your selfishness, bonds were incredibly hard to break and the pair would never be the same again. But you couldn't make him stay with you. Oh he'd want to move out wouldn't he? How could he not? You'd completely betrayed his trust and acted like every asshole alpha you hated so much. You should move too, maybe to America? Somewhere far away where you wouldn't bother anyone. Warmth stung your eyes and you realised you'd been crying, how much more pathetic could you get? Izuku was the one who should be upset! You'd ruined his life! Arms wrapped around you as you let out a sob, immediately trying to push the omega away, maybe you should just kill yourself and sever the bond like that- Then at least he’d be able to find someone he actually wanted to be with.

“Alpha… why’re you upset…?” Izuku yawned as he sat up, and you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, or look at him. The worry you could sense through the bond made your stomach turn, you didn’t deserve his concern! You were horrible, you were-

“Alpha, c’mon, look at me… please?” Izuku’s voice broke and you turned to look at him, eyes zoning in on the mark you’d left on his neck.

“I’m sorry- I triggered your heat and- and betrayed your-”

“Y/n, I love you, I wanted this, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Izuku cooed, pulling your head to his chest and running his hands through your hair like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was like a weight lifted off of your chest, like all the puzzle pieces fit together, he was all you’d ever need.

“I love you too, Izuku.”

#omegaverse #omegaverse x reader #bnha omegaverse #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #omegaverse imagine #omega izuku #alpha reader #yandere izuku #yandere x reader #yandere bnha #omega izuku x reader #yandere izuku x reader

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weaselbrownie · 3 years

Text

we’re okay | d.m

draco malfoy x fem!reader

summary : draco and his girlfriend got in a fight but she stayed patient with him.

warning : swearing, angst, accusations?, fluff towards the end, talk about starting a family

a/n : flashbacks in italic

word count : 1.8k

01.30 am

It was late and you had to wake up early tomorrow for a potions exam but your mind was elsewhere. Tossing around in your bed the events of last night kept replaying in your head.

"Why can't you see– I love you Draco"

"No Y/N you don't love me– you love the idea of fixing me!" Draco shouted at you through his gritted teeth and locked jaw.

"You can't possibly think that's true..." You backed away from him as the tears in your eyes started to fall.

Fighting and fighting was all you've been doing with Draco. You knew what you signed up for when you got into a relationship with Draco, but you never thought it would get this bad. Every day you try to hold onto him, try to lend him your hand because God knows he needs it in times like this. After Draco got the mission from you-know-who, he has not been himself. Always sneaking away, only to come back to his dorm past midnight. You tried for so long to try to talk to him but he wasn't budging, and now, here you were. All you wanted to do was tell him he's not alone and that you love him but of course he would turn that on you, twisting it into something sick.

"Y/N we both know it's true, you come into my life when I'm at my lowest and you try too hard!" Draco continued to shout at your fragile state.

"Try too hard? Try too hard my arse Draco– This is what I get for caring about you?" You fought back at him not wanting to lose another fight to him.

"I didn't ask for you to care for me– You came to me all on your own trying to be little miss perfect, fixing the broken boy like last year's project! Well, guess what? You can leave now, there's the door Y/N!" Draco spat out at you when a single tear escaped from the corner of his eye.

Your body ran cold at his harsh words, you knew Draco didn't mean what he said but it still hurts like hell. You've been in his life since the very beginning, growing to love him through your years in Hogwarts. You knew he was hurting and it was hurting you more that you can't take the pain away from him, you love the boy so much to the point where you would sacrifice yourself in a heartbeat in exchange for his happiness.

"What happened to you? What happened to the boy who helped me ride my first broomstick, to the boy who stuck up for me when those Gryffindors cornered me, to the boy who took me to the Yule Ball–" You chocked out in between your streaming tears "What happened to the boy who I comforted in his home when it was invaded by death eaters? To the boy I've loved since the first year?" You really couldn't control the tears anymore, you had to get out of here before it gets worse.

You shook your head before gathering your book bag and robe, slowly making your way past Draco and to the door he pointed to behind him. You placed your hand onto the doorknob before turning in your place to see Draco's back.

"Please come back to me"

With that you were gone, tears run on Draco's pale face– realizing that he just drove you out of his life. Y/N, the last person to truly cared about him, the love of his life. Draco broke down with a scream throwing anything he could get his hands on.

On the other side of the door, you stood muffling your own tears as you hear him completely breaking. You wiped your face before forcing yourself to step away from the door and back into yours.

You took a deep breath as you stare up to the ceiling of your dorm. Your roommate was out for the night so it was even quieter, the thoughts in your head screaming at you. You decided that maybe a cold shower would help you sleep.

Before you could even move a muscle the doorknob started rattling, thinking it was your roommate to go get something you turned your body away from the door and closed your eyes, pretending to be asleep.

The door slowly creaked open and closed again. Footsteps started to approach your bed you could feel a shadow in front of you. The person in front of you stayed there for a moment before brushing a small strand of hair away from your face.

When the fingertips touched your face you already knew it was Draco, you didn't need to open your eyes to know Draco was touching you. Playing along you stayed still pretending to be asleep as Draco admired your figure wrapped around a thick blanket. Draco placed his hand on the side of your cheeks, stroking it lightly before softly letting out a few words.

"I'm so sorry"

"I didn't know why I did it but I didn't mean the things I said, I was just– angry, angry at myself for hurting you but angry at you for staying with me when I know someone else could make you much happier than I ever could" Draco softly said, still caressing your rosy cheek in the process.

"I have never loved anyone other than my family and I don't know how to process the feelings I have for you. This is for the best sweetheart, someday you'll find a guy who will treat you the way you deserve to be treated– like a princess. I'll be okay, as long as you're happy"

Draco whispered to you, as you felt a teardrop land on your cheek. Your heart aches, listening to him, listening to how he thinks someone else could make you happier. Little did he know that he was it for you, that he was the person you wanted to spend forever with.

He kissed your forehead lightly before cupping your face again. Goosebumps start to form on the back of your neck as he leaves little kisses on your face. Your head going dizzy, inhaling his scent that you love to drown yourself in.

"I love you Y/N"

Not wasting another second he pulled his hand away from your face and sniffled a little. The warmth from his hand leaving your cheeks, and then you heard his footsteps drifting away from you.

This was now or never if you don't tell him now you might never will. So with a determined mindset, you slowly sat up from your spot and turned around to see Draco opening the door of your dorm with his head hung low.

"Draco.."

He picked up his head and quickly turned on his feet to face you. His tear-stained face and his ruffled hair. He changed into a comfortable jumper along with sweatpants to keep him warm in the cold air. His eyes lit up when he noticed you were wearing his jumper, the very first jumper you stole from him in 4th year. He has told you many times to get rid of it as it was old but you never did, considering that it smells like him the most.

You eyed his figure in the dark before extending your arms out and made grabby hand gestures at him. He smiled softly before closing the door and walking towards your bed. He touched your hands keeping them in his for a while before closing the space between the two of you with a tight hug. You rested your head on his torso with your legs dangling off the bed on either side of him as he kissed your hair.

Draco finally let go of the hug just to kneel in front of you. He pouted when he saw your face with tears in the corner of your eyes and squeezed your thighs reassuringly. He took your hands and kissed your wrist before cupping your face to wipe your tears away.

"I don't want you to go..." You murmured down at him

His mouth fell into a straight line as he takes in the beautiful sight in front of him. His hands fell from your face to your hips, keeping them there and his head hung low too ashamed to look at his love.

"Nobody compares to you Draco– N-not even close.." You cooed lifting his head by cupping his face much as he did with yours just seconds ago.

His silver eyes were blown, looking up at you with all the adoration and love the world could possibly offer. He opened his mouth to say something but before the words could leave his mouth you closed your lips on his. He stayed still for a second surprised at your action before closing his eyes and returned the kiss. The kiss wasn't like the many kisses you shared before but rather a needy broken one. His lips were soft and tasted a bit salty from all the tears. Without breaking the kiss you guided him to stand and join you on the bed. You backed up until your head hit the soft cold pillow and Draco hovering above you with his arms on either side of you. The both of you finally pulled away in need of air as you admired the boy above you.

"Y/N wha-"

"Shush Draco," You said in your sweet voice looking into his eyes.

He smiled down at you before letting go and crushing you. You smiled at him as he snuggles into your neck, leaving a few open mouth kisses. You wrapped your arms around his shoulder and kissed the top of his head before playing with the ends of his hair.

"You will not speak such stupid words again Draco– I'm not going anywhere" You whispered to him as he picked his head up from the crook of your neck to look at you. "You do know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you right?" You cooed down to him as his eyes lit up once more.

"Do you mean that?" Draco asked slowly, wanting every word you're saying to be true.

"Mhm– After this pass, we can get out of here, get a house in the countryside with a big garden and maybe a pond. Then we can start a family, just the two of us– Unless you're not ready to start a family then we can wait as long as you want. Then we'll watch as the kids grow up and go into Hogwarts to start their own lives and then w–" You said as you imagined your life with Draco.

He looked up at you with a soft smile before interrupting you with a soft kiss on your lips. He smiled and chuckled into your lips as you do the same, the kiss ended up being a small laughing fit for the both of you.

"Darling I've never heard anything better" Draco cooed after you both calmed down.

You smiled at the boy in front of you and returned to your previous position with his head on the crook of your neck and your arms around his neck.

"I love you, darling"

"I love you too Draco"

#draco #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco imagine #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x fem!reader #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy fluff #harry potter #harry potter imagine

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years

Note

Could we pretty please get a villain whumpee in a straightjacket?

Oh I had so many ideas for this one, so I hope you like what I came up with! It’s a bit of a different kind of whump, but I hope it’s still good :3

CW//Dehumanization, baby talk, medical settings, straightjackets, medical malpractice

Villain hardly got to see the outside of the building.

Nearly as soon as the vehicle sped up to its front, they were trundled from its interior, feet stumbling to asphalt for a moment before the privilege of walking was taken from them-- their body swept up in a pair of strong arms.

They hated being carried. No, there was not enough strength in that word. They detested it. Loathed it. Those weren’t enough either. No, they felt that, if they were to encapsulate their sheer fury at the situation with language, they would need to begin digging in dictionaries of obscure Kanji.

But there was no time for that, because they were being carried right now.

Usually, Villain would have struggled. Writhed and squirmed until they were dropped to the floor. Or thrown. Whichever happened quicker.

Yet, unfortunately, at that very moment, there was no time for that either. No. At the moment, there were much more acutely focused on an emotion other than rage. One that went by the name of terror.

Every villain knew of the Metropolis Rehabilitation Center for Extraordinary Cases. After all, they were the extraordinary cases.

But no one ever thought they would see the thing in person. Much less be carried into it by Hero, of all the noble, goody two shoed assholes.

It was a gargantuan structure-- towering blocks of concrete, stacked upon each other, and covered with shimmering white tile, bright enough to blind anyone who dared to look upon it directly. There was one thing worse than that tile, surface dancing like freshly fallen snow.

The only thing worse than the Center’s exterior was its front door. The pair of them, in fact, glass and steel. That fact was terrifying in and of itself. Being close enough to those doors to examine them was a fate no villain expected to ever have to face.

The second time that Villain began to thrash, there was no fury in it. Nothing was locked around their body, not a chain or cuff in sight, but Hero’s grip was more than enough to turn the menace of the city into the much larger equivalent of a kitten, held by the scruff of its neck.

“Let me go! I don’t want to go!” Their thoughts flew from their mouth as freely as their panicked voice. “T-The prison! Wouldn’t that be much better?”

“Come on.”

The villain shivered at the soft voice, a second quiver shaking their spine when a hand stroked its way through their sweat-soaked hair.

“They’ll love you here.” Hero’s voice curled, coaxing a frightened dog. “I’m sure you’re be their new favorite.”

There wasn’t an ounce of perceptible mockery in the tone. As though a hero genuinely gave the slightest shit. As if they weren’t taking them to the place half-drunken villains told horror stories about, only to be accused of fabrication. ‘It can’t possibly be that bad.’

But everyone knew, everyone knew full well, that there was no falsehood in those stories.

They didn’t want to be a favorite. They were a villain! Even as they approached the double doors, Villain could not help but fantasize about the 10 foot high walls of the Metropolis Villainous Correctional Facility, topped with their electrified barbed wire.

It would be horrible, certainly, but it wouldn’t be the Center!

Yet, with a tinny bell, the hellish building’s entrance swung open.

Inside, the Metropolis Rehabilitation Center for Extraordinary Cases smelled like flowers. The particular scent was unrecognizable-- neither rose nor marigold, lavender or coral-bell. Yet, the aroma was overwhelming.

Villain’s struggling turned to thrashing.

The walls were blue. A light, baby blue, with a sickeningly joyful air about it. Abstract paintings and plaques hung along hallways and lobby walls, marked by tacky statements of motivation.

‘Mistakes are proof that you are trying.’

‘Make it happen!’

‘I can and I will.’

The captive villain felt sick. Their straining was useless, not gaining them an inch of freedom even as it cost them feet of dignity. Not that they expected to keep hold of that for long.

The lobby itself was bright, disgustingly colorful. The walls were lined with chairs painted in blinding technicolor, while the front desk itself danced with decals of butterflies and birds.

“Let me go!” Another screech tore itself from their throat.

A receptionist, lab-coat the color of a summer sunflower, looked up with a warm smile.

“I see our newest friend is here.” They chirped. “I’ll call up our welcoming party.”

“No need!”

From one of various, straight hallways, clattering footsteps sounded. Two lab coats, dyed in that same sickening, jaundiced color, ran forward at a jog. Shame forgotten, Villain buried their face in Hero’s chest. Anything to not have to see the doctors. Anything.

“Oh, what a cutie!” One of the lab coats exclaimed. “Aren’t they a sweetheart?”

“Oh, Villain, you’re going to have so much fun here.” A second voice smiled.

“I’m sure they are.” Hero’s hand stroked once more through their hair, though it did nothing to aid their incessant trembling. “Come on, bud, there’s no reason to be scared.”

“I fucking hate you!”

Three voices turned to roaring laughter.

“Come on, they’ve even brought you something.”

“Yeah.” One of the doctors chirped. “It’s a nice jacket, to keep you warm. We don’t want you getting cold.” Their tone switched on its head, from high-pitched to clinical, as they whispered: “Put them down, please.”

Gently, Villain felt themself lowered to the floor. In an instant, they were kicking out, struggling, straining, screaming and screeching. Their attempts to get to their feet, however, were thwarted by firm hands on their shoulders and a leg across their own.

They didn’t need to see the jacket to know what it was. As soon as the canvas touched their skin, they knew. Yet, it was a three on one. No amount of hysterics could stop the sleeves from slipping onto their arms, compressing their hands against the sewn-shut ends. Leather rubbed against metal buckles, canvas ribbing against itself, as, with terrifying speed, the jacket was applied.

The straightjacket.

It was far too taut, tight enough that, in their hyperventilation, Villain felt that it made them unable to breathe.

“Take it off!” They wailed. They noticed only then that the garment around them now was dyed the same color as the walls-- that unnerving, baby blue.

“Shh, shh, it’s just a jacket, buddy.” The hand in their hair was unfamiliar and nerve-wracking.

They had their legs, still. Only half of them pulled in terrible, suffocating tightness. Fury focused, Villain kicked out, desperate to get their legs under them.

They had no chance.

And, of course, their last ounce of dignity had to be wrought from them.

Villain’s shoes had been lost hours ago, though they couldn’t remember the exact scenario. Perhaps during the fight, perhaps afterwards, when they were thrown into the car and harnessed to its restraints.

It didn’t matter. To the doctors, so it seemed, all that mattered was that they could stand. And, to them, that was a problem.

They looked like socks, and, going on, they felt to be as such. Yet, as Villain at last got their feet under them, they realized otherwise. The bottom of the garments seemed to be formed in such a way that, when they tried to stand, their legs shook with the effort of simply retaining their balance. The curves and form of their feet, countered by fabric and plush.

“W-What the- What did you-” Villain gasped.

“Oh, those are just your wobblers, honey.” One of the lab coats smiled. “See? They make you wobble!”

“I’m gonna fall, you piece of shit!”

“Oh, don’t worry, dear.” Another voice, followed by a pair of arms, braced against their back. “You won’t fall. We’re here to help.”

“I don’t want your help!”

“This one’s funny.” The voice came with a smile. “Come on, then.”

Another pair of arms, practically lifting them. Their legs felt to be singed by lapping flames from the strain upon their muscles alone.

“We have a room all set up for you! And once you get your medicine, you’ll feel so much better.”

“So, so much better.”

It was with hysterical shrieks, rapidly weakening, that the patient that had once been Villain was helped down the hallway.

They would never again see the outside of the building. The nice doctors would make sure of that!

#villain whumpee #doctor whumper #hero whumper #whumpblr #whump community #whumpee #whumper #hero villain whump

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mianavs · 3 years

Text

No Escape

You wanted to start a new life but your old one wasn’t done with you just yet

Osamu x runaway!reader

a piece i wrote for @sugawara-sweetheart ‘s decadence collab

a/n: heavily inspired by my time working at a restaurant minus the hot boss bit. using Kobe as the location of Miya Onigiri

tw: smut, assault, implied imprisonment

wc: 1.8k+

It’s only been three months since you ran away to Kobe but you’re already settling comfortably into your new life.

The studio you’re renting is tiny and the faint smell of mildew doesn’t leave no matter how much baking soda and vinegar you use to clean the walls and floors—you can’t stand the smell of bleach. Nevertheless, it’s warm and inviting after a long day at work when all you want to do is collapse on your bed to give your weary legs a break. Most importantly, it’s your home and no one is there to lock you in while taking away the key.

Your work is hands-down the best thing about your life. There is no where you’d rather be than in a hot kitchen with sweat dripping down your face as you chop ingredients, sauté vegetables, and plate your creations. It all started with a home economics class in high school that led you into accepting a scholarship to a culinary school that you attended for a year before your life was turned upside down by—

“Y/N! The order! Is it done?”

Your head snaps up to find your boss Osamu Miya drumming his fingers on the counter as he stares you down, thick brows knitted together. You suck in a breath and dart your eyes down to the three onigiri that have yet to be coated with Furikake seasoning. Swiftly, you press the seasoning onto the rice balls before handing the plate over to your boss.

“Done!”

Osamu looks up from the plate and lets his eyes linger on you before nodding wordlessly and taking the food to the customer. It’s a busy Friday evening and you’re understaffed again so Osamu’s waiting tables while you’re working the kitchen along with two other cooks. The orders pile up on the line and adrenaline courses through your veins as you dart around the kitchen gathering ingredients and dodging your coworkers.

Shifts like these drain all your energy and by the time the clock hits 10pm, your legs feel as if they’ll fall off at any moment. Still, you don’t mind the hectic rushes during the day because they keep you from revisiting the painful memories you keep buried away in the darkest recesses of your mind.

Cleaning up after a long busy shift is the hardest part about working at a restaurant like Onigiri Miya. The building is old and the unwelcome critters like to come out at night, so Osamu is quite anal about storing ingredients and cleaning.

It’s not that you hate cleaning but obsessive cleanliness makes your blood run cold and your throat close up until you can’t breathe. It takes you back to that pristine home that became your own personal hell.

You’re scrubbing the outside of the huge metal rice cooker when one of your coworkers lets out a yelp which is followed by the sound of splashing water. The acrid fumes of bleach assault your nose and you look down to see your shoes covered with the cleaning agent.

The scrub sponge slips from your hand as a wave of nausea sweeps over you. Bile rises up your throat and you grip onto the nearby wall to get on your feet before staggering to the bathroom.

The flickering lights of the dingy bathroom distort your vision further but you make a beeline to the sink regardless. You turn on the hot water and pump a ridiculous amount of soap before frantically rubbing your hands together until your skin is red and raw. Your heart hammers inside your heaving chest and hot tears blur your vision as the voice that haunts your nightmares rings in your ears.

Filthy

Dirty

Gross

You’ll never be clean without me

You nearly jump out of your skin when a heavy hand lands on your shoulder. Every muscle in your body tenses painfully and a single thought echoes in your head like a mantra.

He found me

But it isn’t him. It’s Osamu forcing you to face him as his fingers dig into your shoulders. Suddenly, you can breathe again and you deflate like a balloon.

“You’re okay, Y/N. I got you.” His rich voice never fails to calm you down during your panic attacks and you wonder how you ever got so lucky to have him as a boss and—

He pulls you to him, pressing his lips against yours in an abrupt kiss. He coaxes you to submit with every languid stroke of his tongue, every touch that burns through your clothes, every groan that rumbles in his chest. Your body always resists him at first and you wonder if it’s due to the wounds of your past that still feel fresh or the inappropriateness of your relationship because Osamu is your boss. Those thoughts eventually melt away along with your resistance and you open up to him in more ways than one.

It’s your first time at his flat but you don’t see much of it because he has you against his front door as soon as you cross the threshold. His lips latch on to your sensitive neck, swiping his teeth against your skin and littering it with marks. It isn’t until his hand buries itself inside your undone pants that your lustful haze dampens.

“W-we shouldn’t be doing this.”

Your protest falls on deaf ears as Osamu palms your throbbing clit and pushes two long digits into your needy cunt. A jolt of pleasure runs through your body and you grasp at his shoulders, hair, and back while he pumps his fingers at a fast but steady pace.

From your previous trysts at the restaurant, Osamu already knows his way around the fleshy walls of your cunt and aims toward that spot that has you coming undone in minutes. You’re keening and holding on to him for dear life when your release washes over you and covers his entire hand and wrist. Like clockwork, shame and terror take root and a cruel husky voice embedded in your memory resurfaces.

Dirty

That one word is all it takes for you to unlatch yourself from Osamu and glance at the mess you’ve made. You’re trembling like a leaf waiting for a heavy hand to send you across the floor or for harsh fingers to grip your hair to throw you like a ragdoll, but Osamu isn’t him so he brings his two fingers to his mouth and licks them clean; his eyes locked onto yours the entire time.

That single action is what breaks down any lingering walls that still stood between you and your boss and you rush at him planting a hungry kiss on his lips, savoring the taste of your cum still on them. He matches your fervent kiss and leads you to his bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing in your wake.

You end up on his lap with his cock buried inside your messy cunt and you see stars with every upward thrust of his hips. He latches his mouth onto a nipple and suckles on it until it’s red and throbbing before switching to the other.

“S-Samu! Ah-”

He bites down on your nipple and it’s the explosion of pain that drives you over the edge—the way your body was trained to do. Your fleshy walls convulse around his cock and cum gushes out of you coating your conjoined bodies.

“Fuck-”

Osamu curses and buries his teeth into your shoulder as hot spurts of semen shoot into your womb and fill you up to the brim. The two of you cling onto each other as the aftershocks of your orgasms subside. There’s a stinging pain coming from your breast and shoulder and you know without looking that he’s drawn blood.

But you’re used to it and at least Osamu doesn’t kick you off him and call you a filthy whore.

He eventually pulls you into bed with him but the itching need to clean yourself overwhelms you.

“We should clean ourselves up.” You suggest, pushing against his chest to no avail.

“Later,” he mumbles and tightens his hold until there’s no space between you. “How about you stay the night?”

It’s posed as a question but it’s more like a statement especially since he has no intention of letting you go. There’s a foreboding tightness in your chest but Osamu presses a loving kiss on the top of your head and you forget all about it.

You wake up to the sound of male voices but a husky voice stands out from the others. It’s a voice you know all too well because it haunts you night and day. Your blood runs cold when you realize he’s in the bedroom conversing with two other people and your heart shatters when you hear Osamu. You keep your eyes closed praying that they leave the room so you can figure something out but the conversation suddenly stops.

“I know you’re awake, Y/N.”

A cold hand sweeps a strand of your hair to the side and the nauseating smell of hand sanitizer has bile rising up your throat.

In a bout of madness, you launch a pillow at Kiyoomi Sakusa and make a break for the door. You take a couple of steps before two pairs of hands stop you. It’s Osamu and a man who looks just like him who hold you down while you struggle against them like a wild animal.

“YOU FUCKING BASTARDS! LET ME GO! LET M-”

Sakusa’s hand goes up and then there’s a loud crack followed by throbbing pain on the side of your face. Even with your blurry vision you can still make out the disgust on Sakusa’s face as he watches you cough up blood.

“It doesn’t matter how loud you are. No one will come for you.”

He crouches down in front of you and his lips twitch in amusement as you struggle against Osamu and his twin brother. Cold black eyes examine your face before his hand digs into his pocket and takes out a handkerchief.

“I thought I lost you forever, Y/N. Thankfully, Miya introduced me to his brother who just so happened to know a certain girl from Tokyo with a mysterious past.” He wipes the blood off your face and watches the fight in your eyes die out with every word he utters.

“You don’t know how worried I was when I came home and you weren’t in your room.”

Your stomach lurches when he brings his face to your head and inhales your scent the way he always did since your high school days when you didn’t think anything of it. You curse the day you ever decided to befriend Sakusa.

“You’ll have to be punished, of course, but I promised Osamu I wouldn’t be too harsh with you. After all, you’ll belong to the three of us now.”

As if on cue, Osamu presses a wet kiss on your cheek and memories of last night cause hot angry tears to stream down your face. You were foolish to trust Osamu but even more foolish to think you could ever escape you captor.

#osamu x reader #haikyuu smut #osamu smut #osamu x y/n #hq smut #osamu #miya osamu #haikyuu fanfic #hq fanfic #haikyuu scenarios #hq scenarios #tw: smut #tw: assault #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa #sweetheart decadence #navs.hq #hqintheclub

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dabifixation · 3 years

Text

see you later

pairings: dabi x fem!reader

warnings: smut, fluff, angst, major character death, mha manga spoilers, slight gore, MINORS DNI

summary: Dabi knew he had to end things soon before they got out of hand. He knew this wasn't supposed to last long, he told himself that everytime he left your apartment in the early hours of the morning. Until he found himself back here again, in your arms and lost between your thighs.

word count: 4.7k words

"... We encourage everyone to stay at home tonight, as there is a possibility of a severe thunderstorm, along with it flashfloods all over the city..."

The television only served as background noise for you as you moved around your kitchen. Cleaning up the dirty dishes and utensils, a small smile on your lips after the friendly company you had tonight.

It's been a while since you invited your friends over for some supper after the long depressing week you had. You needed that, the entertainment and companionship only they could offer you. You've never laughed or cried so hard in months, telling each other about your sorrows and thoughts for your futures ahead.

Being an adult was never easy, especially in a world full of rejected heroes.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn't heard the warning cough behind you, or the tap against your kitchen counter. But you did give a short shriek when you felt someone wrap their arms around your waist, their chin resting on your shoulder, inhaling your scent.

You relaxed once you felt the familiar warmth of who it was. Only one person in the entire world could be dubbed a walking, breathing furnace, and it was him.

"I missed out on a big meal didn't I?" He drawled, his warm hands rubbing soothing circles against your stomach.

"Maybe if you didn't pop into my life every few months, I would've saved you a plate." You sarcastically replied, but you didn't miss the way how you sounded partially hurt.

You weren't expecting much all those years ago when you found him bloodied and passed out behind your childhood home, and you weren't expecting much now.

You never asked questions, and he never pried in your personal life. You were quite fine with that. Not everyone was an extrovert and had their whole life story ready to be dished out. He was a very private person and you respected that.

He ignored what you said and continued to nuzzle his face into your neck. Using one hand to push your hair over your shoulder, exposing your neck to him.

You suppressed a sigh when you felt his warm lips give short kisses against your neck.

"I've missed you." He breathed cold air into your neck, making you stiffen at those words. He's never said something like that before, not once in the six years since you've known him.

Dabi noticed you stiffen in his arms, but he didn't say a word. He wasn't lying. He did miss you, achingly so.

He missed your stubborn attitude, the sarcastic replies that were on par with his own, the homemade cooking you offered to teach him countless of times that he doubt he'd pay attention to cause he wouldn't be able to keep his hands to himself. But most importantly he missed you. The way your touch lingered even days after his monthly visits, the way your lips would pay close attention to the magenta scars all over his body, and the different ways you'd say his name depending on what he was doing to you.

God, he was going to miss all of this once he leaves for the League of Villains.

"I've missed you too." You shyly said, you've never admitted these words aloud before and it felt good to tell him that.

"Turn around for me, I wanna see how good you look." He whispered in your neck.

"Dabi I'm wearing nothing but my puppy printed sweater." You deadpanned.

"It doesn't matter, you always look good no matter what." He playfully nipped your ear, making you roll your eyes despite the heat in your body relocating to your cheeks.

You turned around to face him, a beaming smile on your face that was only ever directed at him. Your heart always soared whenever you looked at him. He was beautiful. The most beautiful man you've ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on. His eyes were the most vibrant blue you've ever seen, little specks of grey dancing in those pretty blues that were half lidded but always calculative and aware of his surroundings. He licked his lips, bringing your attention to the plump flesh that were an interesting contrast between soft and jagged, and the pink tongue residing in his mouth.

Your eyes were transfixed on his appearance, making sure no hair on his head was missing or any new injuries to his increasing collection. You rested your forehead against his hard chest once you found nothing out of place, letting out a sigh of relief when you finalized that he was okay, and not sporting a limp or any other injury.

"Damn, I stress you out that much huh doll?" You could hear the smirk in his voice, but didn't have the energy to make a snarky remark, only offering him a small smile.

"Your visits are becoming less and less you know, the last time I saw you was five months ago. I was..." so worried about you, you wanted to say. You were so worried that you stayed up everyday, two hours after your initial bedtime hoping that he'd at least show up once in those five months. He didn't, and you were beginning to think he never would, until tonight. You didn't want to tell him that.

He wouldn't care.

You felt embarrassed that you were crying to your friends about him earlier on. Scared that you'd never see him again, not because he's moved on from you as you know there's nothing keeping him here other than sex and a warm bed to crash in, but because you were worried he'd get himself injured or worse. And you didn't like dwelling on what worse could imply.

"I kno–" Dabi's words were cut off by a small sneeze he muffled into his arm. Sneezing twice more before he regained his composure.

You only noticed now that his clothes were slightly damp and heavier than usual. It made your eyesbrows furrow.

"How long were you in the rain Dabi?" You questioned, knowing you wouldn't like whatever answer he'd come up with.

"Ever since your lady friends came by."

"That was over two hours ago? You've been sitting in the rain this entire time?!" You felt your blood pressure rising when he only shrugged at your accusations. It was like arguing with a toddler sometimes.

You sighed again, pinching the bridge of your nose. "I've got a box of mens clothes laying around here somewhere. Go take a shower and I'll get them for you and make you a cup of hot tea."

He quirked one eyebrow up, staring intensely at you.

"What?" You averted your eyes away from his, embarrassed that he was searching your face for something.

He shrugged again, rolling his battered coat off his shoulders and started stripping the rest of his clothes off. You turned around before he could go any further. Busying yourself with getting his tea ready.

Dabi stopped undressing, standing there with nothing but his jeans on. Watching you as you got the correct items in order to make him tea, muttering to yourself about which biscuits he might like with it.

He liked the butterscotch ones, but he didn't bother opening his mouth. Too memorized by the way you moved around so frantically as if he was dying instead of coming down with a small cold.

He liked that about you, he liked a lot of things about you. Especially the way you cared about the simplest things pertaining to him even during moments of intimacy. You treated him like glass even if he didn't offer the same treatment in return, not because he didn't want to, he just didn't know how to go about it.

He frowned.

Dabi was only ever vulnerable around you, and you didn't even realize it. You didn't know the power you had over him, and he'd like to keep it that way. Afraid that you'd use it against him and he wouldn't be able to bring himself to hurt you for that. He could never hurt you.

He found himself walking towards you on impulse, hugging your waist once again. This time pressing his body flush against yours. He heard you gasp and that pulled a smirk out of him.

"Do you know what you do to me?" He gripped your hip with one hand, and snuck the other hand underneath your shirt. His lips against your neck, right above your pulse point.

Your stomach tensed when you felt his hot fingers rubbing soothing circles against it. He pressed you further against him, making you feel the growing length against your ass. You bit your lip, stopping yourself from whimpering too early.

"The way your nipples are perking up so nicely for me in this shirt that's practically transparent is driving me nuts." He snaked his hand further up your shirt, brushing the skin underneath your breasts gently. Your breath caught in your throat as you gripped the counter tightly.

Your panties were clinging to your pussy uncomfortably, you could feel the material getting wetter with each passing second. You tried rubbing your thighs together for some friction, but Dabi wasn't having any of it. He clicked his tongue out of irritation, the hand on your hips falling towards your inner thighs, parting your legs. His hold was strong enough to prevent you from rubbing your thighs together, you wanted to whine when he didn't place his hand right where you wanted them.

Just a little higher.

"I asked you a question doll." He spoke into your hair, taking a deep breath from the rooibos shampoo you used. The smell turned him on even more.

"W-what question?" You whimpered, resting the back of your head onto his chest, sighing out as he brushed the pads of his thumb against your hardened nipples.

"I don't like repeating myself." He growled, pinching your nipples harshly causing you to whimper pathetically in his arms. He continue to tweak at your nipples roughly before groping your breast and fondling it the way he liked.

"Dabi... " You mewled.

"Don't. Don't say my name like that." He gave your nipples a warning pinch.

You bucked up into his hips, involuntarily grinding against his cock. The swollen head rubbing in between your ass despite the jeans restricting him. Making him choke back a groan.

Dabi was just as impatient as was it in his nature to tease. He took his hand away from between your thighs to quickly lick the tips of his index and middle finger, bringing them back towards your aching pussy. You were such a good girl, not once taking the opportunity to touch yourself or rub your thighs together.

He wasted no time in pushing your thong to the side, sucking a deep breath through his teeth when he rubbed his fingers through your slit collecting the thick moisture gathered there. You always got so wet for him.

After coating his fingers in your arousal, he moved his fingers towards the bundle of nerves that had been pulsing ever since he rocked up at your house.

You let out a breathy yes, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Dabi rubbed your clit just the way you liked, grinding it down in tight circles that had your toes curling. He pinched at your clit piercing, knowing how much you liked it when he played with the metal and how easily it could make you gush for him. The pleasure was overwhelming and had you feeling light headed.

Without warning, Dabi plunged those same two fingers into your tight pussy. You bit back a scream as your body jerked and writhed against him. Hips chasing after his fingers as they thrusted deeper into your spongy walls, the palm of his hand grinding against your clit. The stimulation was too much for you.

"Fuck!" You shouted out, bringing your hand down to his, gripping on his wrist tightly so he could go deeper and faster. He could get you cumming around his two fingers alone, he didn't need more than that.

"Dabi please." You begged.

"Please what?" He asked curiously, knowing exactly what you so deeply craved.

The hand around your breast disappeared. He reached for his jeans so he could unzip it and pull it down. A short relieved sigh left his lips once his jeans were pulled down his thighs, just enough to free his heavy cock from all that pressure. He gripped his cock in his free hand, he wanted to feel you around him so bad but he had to be patient, as much as he hated it.

Dabi watched you from underneath his dark lashes, the way your body responded to him in delicious squirms and moans drove him mad. He added pressure to your clit, grinding his palm hard against it. Your body rocked back into him for more, a high pitched wail leaving those beautiful lips he couldn't wait to claim.

"I want you ins- shit shit shit!" He watched your body shaking silently against him, thighs trembling, pussy clamping so hard around his fingers he hissed as he pulled them out and quickly replaced them with his angry, pulsing cock.

"Fuck." Dabi let out breathlessly in your ear, feeling you clench and gush around him as you came. He wasn't prepared for this. To feel you around him after five long excruciating months. He loved the way your pussy gripped onto him after all these years, as if it was the first time all over again.

Dabi pulled your head back by your chin so he could look into your eyes as he drove you into your next orgasm. Ignoring your pained whimpers of pleasure from being overstimulated like this. He dragged his cock slowly out of you, holding back a gasp as he slid out of your warm walls, missing the snug warmth around him, and then slammed right back into you without warning, making you cry out.

Your ass bounced against his thighs as he gained momentum, making him cuss underneath his breath at the squelching noises that came along with it and the mess you made on his jeans. Your hands fell down to Dabi's thighs, gripping them tightly but not tight enough to leave your mark, as he practically seethed from the power trip of fucking you after so long.

The drag of his cock inside you had you nearing your second orgasm so soon, and with the animalistic grunts Dabi let out, you could tell he wasn't too far behind. He usually lasted longer than this, way longer, he underestimated how much he truly missed you it seemed.

"Dhabi... Phleasinside... Please!" He could barely make out what you were saying, a stroke to his ego at fucking you so silly to a point you couldn't use your words properly.

"What doll? Use your words." There was a slight wheeze to his words, your pussy clenching so tightly around him had him close to losing his breath.

"Please cum inside... fuck your cum inside me please. Please!" You momentarily gained back your speech long enough to form coherent sentences. You screwed your eyes shut as you felt your orgasm nearing.

His grip on your hips tightened immensely, no doubt leaving his fingerprints there for days. He wouldn't last much longer and you knew it, the telltale signs of his thighs tensing and the urgent bucking of his hips told you he was close.

Dabi let out a groan so deep from the very depths of his stomach, goosebumps began to rise on your sore arms from the intense sound alone. He forced your head to the back so he could kiss you as he came, making a sound so damn carnal it had you cumming alongside him.

The two of you came together in perfect harmony, your pussy clenching down so hard on his cock it had you lurching forward from the force, breaking the heated kiss. Long strings of hot semen shot up into your awaiting womb, dripping down your thighs when it had no more room to go.

Your breathing was uneven, your chest and throat burning from your screaming session. Forever grateful that you didn't live by your parents anymore, back when you had to muffle all your moans from when you and Dabi used to fool around even back then.

He was no better, his breathing shallow and unsteady.

Dabi didn't pull out just yet, savoring the moment of the two of you being joined as one. His fingers traced the long line running down your back, not caring how sweaty you were as he kissed your shoulders gently in gratitude. After awhile he pulled his softened cock out of you, groaning from the oversensitivity while you winced from the evidence of what took place running down your shaky thighs.

The high from sex quickly came crashing down on him. He wasn't here to have sex with you, it just happened. Guilt began to chew at his mind from what he was about to do next, but the way you looked at him, with those caring eyes someone like him didn't deserve, made him drag this moment out far longer than it should've been.

He wasn't a ''now rather than later'' kind of guy after all.

"Let's get you cleaned up." His stomach churned when he watched you look up at him in confusion.

That's right, Dabi never cared about aftercare or basking in the afterglow. He thought it was unnecessary, but couldn't say he hasn't wondered how it would feel to have you running your fingers through his hair and humming childhood lullabies the way his mother used to do to him.

A pang shot out to his heart at the thought of his mother, quickly stomping those traitorous thoughts from making an appearance tonight. Not now, he thought. Returning his full attention towards you and your warm hand grasping his own. Squeezing it gently to bring him back down to earth.

Usually after he was done he'd leave, not that you were bitter about it or anything. That's just how it was. A small smirk would grace his two-toned lips with a "See you later" sent your way before he left your apartment. It was a little tradition shared between you two, the first time he said it you were still 16, applying ointment to his injuries after you found him in your parents backyard. He abruptly left without so much as a thank you, only offering those three words.

Now whenever he left, he'd always say those words to ease your brewing anxiety in promise of seeing you next time. And he never broke that promise.

He didn't speak to you about it, but you could tell he risked everything by coming to your place every once in awhile. You were not ignorant to the things Dabi did, some part of you knew he was involved with some shady things. Things you didn't want to bring up with him.

A man didn't get that many scars in their 23 years of life by being a good samaritan.

You reached your shower, stepping in while Dabi adjusted the settings to both of your liking, joining you once he was satisfied. You've come to love the heat as much as him, hot showers always reminded you of the flame user.

The water ran hot against the both of you. You looked up at Dabi, surprised to see him watching you. For a short moment, you held his gaze. Wondering what could possibly be running through his head that had him looking so defeated.

He wanted to tell you then and there that he'd have to leave for good this time. The League weren't people to be taken lightly, especially with that unhinged brat as their leader. He wouldn't be surprised if the creepy fucker was the type to kill the loved ones of people in order to maintain compliance.

But Dabi kept his mouth, and reached for your blue loofah instead. Squirting some of your lemon scented body wash onto it, scrunching it up so it could get more soapy. He worked in silence, scrubbing your body gently with utmost care and concentration.

Hell would freeze over before Dabi allows anyone to touch a single hair on your body. He didn't care who it was, even if it was the League members, he'd make damn sure their life would end with them being nothing but dirt underneath his shoe. He had to stop coming over after tonight, he was heading into dangerous, unknown territory afterall and he'd rather avoid killing the people he needed to exploit. His plans were finally at his fingers tips, and he wasn't about to throw them away over sex.

No, it was more than sex, no matter how many times he tried convincing himself that he was only here for one reason, he'd just end up fooling himself. At night when he'd look for shelter on the streets, when his quirk couldn't keep him warm the way he wanted, you'd plague his mind with your sweet smile and honey voice. Scolding him for not taking better care of himself and that he could crash at your place if he needed to get back on his feet.

That's why Dabi stopped scrubbing you just as you began to relax at the newfound comfort. You felt his hands tense against your body, making you turn around in concern.

"Hey. Is everything okay?" You were so concerned about him, his chest tightened. Why did you care so much about someone like him. You were so ignorant and stupid. Could you not see the blood on his hands from all the innocent people he convinced himself he killed out of pleasure. It infuriated him to no end, but he could never get mad at you. Not really. He tried pushing you away before, but you were as stubborn as him so he gave up on that method.

Your shoulders fell from his lack of response.

You were too grown to be playing guessing games with him, it was cute entertaining it before, but not now. Not when you were just coming to terms with... with what exactly?

You had an inkling of what was going on, but didn't want to push further. If he was going to tell you, he would. So you asked the next best thing.

"When will you be back?" You asked hopefully, water running down your face. He flashed you a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. His fingers brushing your wet hair out of your face. He learned in, placing a soft kiss against your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment.

"You're so important to me and I don't want you getting hurt because of my suicidal actions." Was what Dabi wanted to say, but he didn't.

So Dabi did what Dabi did best, deflect from the situation and push his true feelings down. Just when you thought you were making progress (as small as that progress was) in this twisted relationship you had with him, you were right where you started.

"I don't know when, I can't tell you exactly. But just know it won't be anytime soon." Or ever.

"Okay. Just... just stay safe." You whispered, placing your hand above his chest, where his heart was. You could feel the way his heart was beating ferociously against his chest, like a caged animal.

He brushed his thumb against your cheek, wanting to remember how soft your skin felt underneath his fingertips, wanting to remember everything from tonight before he left for good. He gave you one last kiss, this time on your lips. A quick peck that said a thousand words, and got out of the shower getting ready to leave. You stood still underneath the scorching heat of the shower, for the first time in years it actually made you flinch in pain.

You watched as he dried himself off with your towel, not paying any attention to you as his hand reached for the doorknob. Much to your relief, he spared you a brief glance that said everything you needed to know in that moment.

"See you later."

It's been ten months since you last saw him, almost a year. And in those ten months you've moved out of the city, got a new job and apartment better than the last. You were happy, content with how life has been treating you lately. Your skin was healthier and glowing, you made time for the gym and started toning your body to your liking. Everything was perfect.

It's been ten months since you last saw him, until you finally did.

There Dabi was, or as it said on the news headline, Touya Todoroki, all over your television. Standing above the ruins of a burning building. His clothes were torn, and his body full of cuts and bruises. You didn't even notice the white hair until the news reporter pointed it out.

There was a ringing in your ear as the camera zoomed in on what looked like a teenage boy emerging from one of the ruins, sporting dual coloured hair. Shouto Todoroki was his name they said, Dabi's younger brother who was a 1st year student at UA High School.

Dabi burst into those beautiful blue flames that you admired so much, while the young boy's left side burst into flames of red and orange. They appeared to get ready to fight, the entire country watching with bated breath.

And then everything happened so fast after that.

You don't remember when the tears started falling, but you do remember the loud sob that tore out of your throat as you watched Dabi's flames engulf him from over-exerting his quirk. He fell on his knees, face twisting as he screamed in pain. You couldn't hear what was happening as the mic from the camera crew melted from the overbearing heat of the two flame users, but you could tell that the pain he was going through was excruciating.

You didn't even recognize your own scream when his body swayed as his flames ate away at his flesh. The staples holding his two skin types together, melting into his flesh. You felt sick to your stomach.

Dry sobs continued to leave your sore throat as you watched the man you've known since you were 16, the man you were afraid to admit that you loved so deeply and finally came to terms with it after six years, slowly dying on national television as the entire world watched and didn't do anything about it.

The anchorman's voice was muffled as you watched your lover fall down, face first into the concrete. His body immobile. Your throat clogged up in pain, all you could do now was cry and watch as his little brother tried reviving him using CPR. A failed attempt, but what else could a 15 year old with zero experience in the medical field do.

A part of you felt like it was being ripped out as you watched heroes rush to the scene trying to pry the young boy away from his older brother. You watched as he pushed them away baring his teeth at them, tears streaming down his young face. You watched as a stretcher rolled by, two medics picking up Dabi's burnt corpse and putting him in that black body bag, zipping it up and slowly moving away from the scene.

The screen went blank, offering nothing but silence as you came to terms with what just happened, before the news anchor popped up, a nauseating smile on his pinched face.

"... The villain Dabi has finally been defeated by his own quirk. A win for hero society against their fight with the villains!!"

You were too numb to tell how many hours passed by as you sat there all alone in your room.

While the country celebrated his defeat, your entire world came crumbling down.

You would never be able to feel his warm hands cup your cheeks, pecking you all over the face while he praised you. You would never get to kiss him again, the type of kisses that left you weak in the knees. You would never get to do things with him that you always wanted to do, simple things such as falling asleep in his arms after a long day of work.

But most of all, you would never hear those three special words of his again, the words you didn't even realize until now, were his way of proclaiming his love for you.

"See you later."

#dabi #touya todoroki #touya #touya x reader #dabi smut #dabi x y/n #bnha smut #bnha imagines #manga spoilers #dabi headcanons #dabi fanfiction #mha fanfictions #anime #mha spoilers

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pascalpanic · 3 years

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Burning The Midnight Oil (Javier Peña x gn!Reader)

Summary: Javier has been burning the candle at both ends. He just needs some rest. Luckily, you’ve got your husband covered.

W/C: 3.4K

Warnings: oh boy um. language, non sexual nudity, brief sexual jokes/innuendo, lots of talk of sleep deprivation bc that’s a plot point here, brief mentions of alcohol and guns (maybe once each), mostly talk of food/eating, eating meat/pork (Javier does, not reader) otherwise I’d say it’s fluffy for the most part

A/N: ☄️ anon, god bless your soul for this idea!! I really love it so I banged it out in one night and here we are!!

You haven’t seen your husband in days. You know he’s exhausted, only ever showing up at home when you’re off at work. It’s a terrible situation, the only contact you’ve had with him being at odd hours over the phone.

The DEA has been all hands on deck this week, requiring their men to be there at all times unless they’re at home and sleeping; even then, they only get about six hours off at a time, many of them too wired to sleep. Javier only gets to come home every other day, usually during the middle of the day. He’s been staying up for a dangerous amount of time, in your opinion, leaving you just about ready to find the heads of the cartel and beat their asses yourself.

During the work week, you can’t complain. You have no right to. You knew when you and Javier had eloped and married that the man’s job was a baggage you’d be forced to carry as a couple. You normally didn’t mind, but when it goes into the weekend, that’s when you get mad. Not just that you don’t get your husband at home with you, but that he doesn’t get to be home. He deserves it. Javier hardly relaxes during the weekends, and essentially does not relax on weeknights until he’s fallen asleep with his head on your chest.

Saturday found you running errands, expecting Javier home by midday at the very latest. Returning home with a pep in your step and finding no Javier there, your mood and smile fell instantly. It’s Saturday; your husband should be home. They should be letting them go home, you thought angrily as you took your anger out by chopping the vegetables to go into your dinner. Surely Javier will be home by dinnertime.

Nothing. 6 P.M., 7 P.M., no Javier, just a dinner growing cold and your heart sinking. You knew Javier had got his break yesterday, and had been in the apartment while you worked, but a slightly rumpled bed was the only evidence he was even there.

At 8, you walk to the phone and dial the DEA office, specifically Javier’s extension.

Your husband picks up and his voice wrecks your heart. “Peña,” he mumbles, his voice crackly. It sounds like his morning grumble after a long night of sleep next to you.

“Javi,” you coo, heart breaking. “Baby, when are you coming home?”

Javier perches on the edge of his desk, phone tucked between his cheek and shoulder. “Fuck, cariño, I don’t know,” he admits, rubbing his face. “I just woke up, I got an hour nap in the break room office. We have to keep going. We’re so close, I can tell.”

You understand his desperation, but you know exactly what he looks like now, a stubble growing thanks to his time away from home, his eyes bloodshot and drooping. His hair is probably messy and his shirt is probably all wrinkly; you’re absolutely certain he’s holding a mug of the sludgy black coffee the office brews. He’s most definitely the picture of exhaustion, and even though you can’t see him, you know your husband. He is a wreck. “I can let Saturday slide, but you’re coming home tomorrow, I don’t care how long. I need to see you and you need to be taken care of.” “I’m doing just fine,” Javier shakes his head and you can hear a flick of a lighter as he’s most likely lighting a cigarette.

“You’re not, and don’t try to pull that card with me. I know you. You’re a disaster; I can tell from your voice. You haven’t eaten and you haven’t slept and you can’t deny it. I want you home as soon as you can tomorrow, you got it? Don’t you even fucking dare try it, Javier Fernando Peña.”

The full name: ouch. He sighs and exhales the cigarette smoke, then takes a sip of his coffee before answering you. “God, I fucking love you,” he chuckles softly. “Okay.”

Another sign of Javier’s exhaustion: how easily he gives in. Javier is a stubborn man, but over your years together he’s learned that you’re just as hard to budge. When both of you are set, neither of you can be moved. Your sarcasm and wit and willpower was what drew him to you in the first place; Javier could never have a compliant, submitting partner. He’d be a mess. He needs you to ground him, he knew and still knows it. It’s why you’re married now.

“I love you too, handsome. Call me before you come home, okay baby? I want to be awake for you,” you say, a soft smile on your face. Your voice is much warmer, less jagged and rough.

It’s the way you always get Javi, the thing that makes him melt the most: when you’re snapping one second and gentle the next. God, he fucking loves you. You understand him, you don’t question him when he comes home and doesn’t speak. You read him and then you hold him, and all of his fears dissipate with his calming breath. “Okay. I love you,” he repeats again, more earnest and purposeful. He wants you to know it; he worries you haven’t felt it in the past week. It’s also another sign of his exhaustion.

“I love you too, Javi,” you remind him as you chuckle and stand. “Don’t fall asleep on the job. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Javier groans and cracks his neck after hanging up, sliding the typewriter back to the beginning. Just a little longer, he tells himself, then he gets to come home to you.

The phone rings around 5 in the morning, waking you from a restless slumber. The sun is just starting to rise, making the sky lighter and colorful from its previous midnight blue. Knowing Javier would be calling, it was impossible for you to sleep fully, leaving you in a dozing state more similar to a daydream than to any form of REM.

“Hello?” You answer with a groggy voice, hoping it’s Javier. Who else could it be, at this hour on a Sunday morning?

“Hey, dulzura,” Javier sighs into the phone. “I’m packing up my shit now. We didn’t get Escobar, but we got one of his big guys late last night. They’re bringing in some Search Bloc guys and giving us tomorrow off.”

You nearly cry in relief at his words, making a noise between a sigh and a squeal, heavy and happy. Javier laughs softly at your noise of relief, allowing himself to smile. His vision is hazy from the lack of sleep, but he’ll be cognizant enough after this last cup of coffee kicks in. “Get your ass home, Javi,” you tell him with a voice just as sleepy as his own. “You got an ETA for me?”

There’s a moment of silence as he looks at his watch. “5:45.”

Your eyes haven’t even opened yet, and you finally let them as you look at the clock. That’s soon, really soon, and it makes your heart speed up a little as your body forces you awake. “Great. I’ll see you then. Drive safe. If you’re too tired-”

“Steve will not be driving,” he cuts you off with a grumble. It makes you giggle a little, his adamance that Steve could never possibly do something better than him, more competently.

“Just reminding you. I’ll see you,” you tell him and hang up before he can make another sarcastic comment.

He’s glad you hang up so fast. He doesn’t have the brain power for a classic witty retort.

Javier goes to unlock the apartment door about half an hour later, but finds that his keys aren’t necessary: you’ve left the door unlocked for him.

He’d be ashamed to admit it to anyone but you, but it really does happen: Javier’s eyes water as he walks inside to the smell of cooking, the stream of soft light through the kitchen window, the sound of soft Sunday morning music drifting from the radio.

You’re at the oven, cooking, and turn when you hear a noise, grinning to see Javier. “Hey, handsome,” you squeal and rush over, wrapping your arms around him.

Javier buries his face in your hair, throwing his arms back around you. You smell fresh and clean, so soft in the fluffy robe he bought you for your birthday a few months ago now. You’re surprised to feel warm water drip from his eyes to your neck, and you pull away with a frown, cupping his face. “Are you okay, love?” You ask, wiping the tears from his eyes.

He nods. “So tired,” he admits and swallows hard. “So glad I’m home. So lucky I have you.”

You have a feeling he doesn’t have the energy to kiss you. Instead, you press your forehead to his and squeeze him tight in your arms. “Okay. I cooked breakfast. You need it. Why don’t you go take a shower?” You ask, breaking away and rubbing his arms.

He shakes his head. “My arms feel like lead. I don’t know if I can even wash my hair,” he admits, his voice a low rumble from his chest. “Just let me sleep, baby.”

“I’ll come with you, then,” you offer, already unbuttoning his shirt and working it off of him purely for comfort. You know your way around your husband’s body by now. You could unbutton his shirts blind; in fact, you have. “Come on, cariño,” you murmur and pull him along to the bathroom by the side of an unbuttoned shirt.

Once in the bathroom, Javier blinks and squints at the bright vanity lights, overwhelmed. You turn on the shower, the bathroom filling with warmth as the water heats and steam fills the air. Even in his tired state, Javier loves to undress you. He tugs the belt from your fuzzy robe, sliding it off your shoulders and tossing it on the counter. You then strip off your respective clothes, and you’re the first to step into the stream of the warm water.

Javi doesn’t have to say anything; you can tell his thoughts from your gaze. His eyes rake your body, taking in the sight of his most beloved person on the planet in all of your naked glory. He climbs in after you, and you grab a bar of soap and get to scrubbing, covering all of Javier’s body with the cucumber-scented suds. He leans his head back against the shower wall, loving your warm hands and the hot water. If he wasn’t standing, if his back wasn’t aching so hard, he’d fall asleep here and now. He’s never been more blissful.

You rinse his body then work his shampoo into his thick hair, your fingers scratching his scalp and massaging his head. “You’re the fucking best,” Javi mumbles sleepily. You just chuckle and work the soap into his hair, stripping it of the grime and cigarette smoke of the office, until he’s wiped clean, ready to start anew.

Later, you wash yourself and let Javier enjoy the hot stream of the water. He’s so zoned out you can’t even tell if he’s awake. You have to actually check. “Javi, baby?”

“Hm?” He mumbles

“Did you fall asleep on me?” You chuckle as you turn off the shower, which makes Javier frown at the loss of warmth.

“‘Course not,” he grumbles, taking the fluffy towel from you and wiping his face.

After the two of you have dressed in fresh clothes, you sit on the edge of your bed and wait for Javier to finish. He pulls a worn t-shirt over his head, then comes and sits next to you, kissing the side of your head. “You’re so good to me,” he mumbles into your temple.

He goes to flop back but you put an arm around him, catching him. “Excuse me, Agent. I made breakfast,” you chuckle and sneak a kiss from his lips, chuckling at the way his mustache is still a little damp. “When was the last time you ate?”

Javier stares off as he considers it. It takes a while for him to respond. You nod at that. “Exactly. Come on, I made breakfast just the way you like it.”

The food is still somewhat warm when you find your way to the kitchen. Javier loves the local cuisine, always has, but something about an American breakfast makes him weak at the knees. He sits at the kitchen counter and sighs as you hand him a plate of buttered toast. “There’s your appetizer,” you chuckle and head back to the stove. Half-cooked bacon, which you turned off when he came in, sits in a pan, and you turn it back on to finish. You crack a couple of eggs into another pan, making sure they sit just right so they’re the way Javi likes them: fried. You sprinkle them with salt and pepper, humming to the radio as you cook.

The sizzling bacon makes Javier’s stomach grumble. The toast isn’t even that warm anymore, but the carby goodness fills Javi’s mouth and suddenly he’s never felt so ravenous. The two pieces of buttered toast are devoured in a heartbeat.

Bringing him a mug, you pour some coffee and his favorite creamer in. “You’d better tip me later,” you tease him with a wink as you return to the stove, flipping the bacon and putting some onto a plate.

“I will tip you anything you want, I swear,” he murmurs before sipping at the ceramic mug, the warm coffee going down like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, warming him from the inside out. The A/C blasts in the apartment, making his dripping hair feel even colder.

In yet another pan, you start pouring the premade pancake mix you’d prepared before he got home. “All of this and the sun is barely up,” He muses, wandering to the other side of the counter and stealing a strip of bacon.

“Quit,” you whine and smack his hand, making the bacon fall back onto the plate. “Your order isn’t ready yet, sir. Stop harassing the cook.” When his arms wrap around you, your defenses fall. “Go sit down,” you say weakly as he kisses your neck.

At least he obeys. Javier sits in his chair and watches you intently, downing his coffee in a short amount of time.

Finally, the feast all comes together, and you present it to Javier on a large plate: bacon, fried eggs, fruit (which you know he won’t eat, but it’s worth a shot), and heart-shaped pancakes. “I wanted to make a pistol, but I’m not super artistic,” you chuckle as you refer to the fluffy cakes on the plate.

Javier shakes his head but smiles. “Thank you, dulzura,” he manages out before he digs in, devouring the plate at a breakneck speed. You’re content to watch, standing across from him. You go to refill his coffee and come back to find the pancakes completely gone.

It doesn’t take much time at all before the plate is wiped clean, the entire thing in Javier’s stomach. Food has never been the biggest concern for him; he skips meals often for work, and you suspect he hasn’t done much more than snack here or there over the past week. His eyes droop even further now that he has a full stomach, and it warms your heart. You’ve got your husband cleaned and fed; now all you need is one last step before you have your beloved Javi back.

“Alright, handsome,” you smile as you drape your arms across his shoulders. “Nap time.”

He can’t deny that. He stands, letting your arms fall off his shoulders. He pulls you around to his front and wraps his arms around you; you know what comes next in this routine. Your feet slide on top of his and Javier walks the two of you to the bedroom, you backwards and being led by him. Javier is not an overly affectionate man: kisses and sex, primarily, hugs if one of you really needs it. This is his one little act he insists on, since you don’t let him carry you.

As you waddle along, you kiss along Javier’s jaw, giving him all of the affection he missed out on in the past week. When you finally enter your bedroom, you stop as you feel the backs of your calves against the bed. You know this routine all too well. It’s usually reserved for when Javier can’t get his hands off of you, when you desperately need him on top of you, surrounding you, kissing your neck. “Wait,” you murmur and step off of his feet, going to pull back the covers.

You return to the end of the bed, standing on top of his feet again. “There,” you say with a grin, and Javi has no choice but to grin back then kiss you. “Okay, continue.”

Then your routine resumes: you fall backwards onto the bed and Javier falls on top of you. You both grunt with the impact but you smile, wrapping one arm around Javi while the other grabs the sheets and blankets and pulls them over the both of you.

Javi’s cheek is nestled against your chest, listening to your heartbeat, his eyes already shut. “Real cute. Get off of me now,” you tease and nudge his side.

His body beneath yours is all he’s needed, all he’s dreamt about while half-consciously dreaming on the apartment couch. He can feel your chest rise and fall, his head going with it. “No,” he simply mutters, his face squished against the skin encasing your beating heart. “M’comftrble.”

You can’t deny him that, you chuckle, your hands reaching down to entangle your fingers in his dark brown hair, nearly black from the dampness it holds. “Fine,” you sigh, whispering the word to him. “I love you so much, Javi. Missed you. Missed my man.”

“Missed you too, dulzura,” Javi mumbles back, but it’s clear he’s almost already out.

“How long were you up, minus that nap, Javi?” You ask.

He thinks on it for a minute, and you think he might’ve fallen asleep until he responds. “36.”

“Hours?” you exclaim quietly, massaging his scalp. “Baby.”

“I know. Had’ta.”

“Well, you can sleep as long as you need to now, love,” you murmur and kiss his forehead. He makes a soft noise of disapproval. “Just a nap. Wake me in like an hour.”

“Okay,” you lie, knowing you’ll let him sleep as long as his body needs it. “Rest now, baby.”

Javier nods and you exhale deeply, holding his head to your chest. He’s back now, your husband, and you know he’s safe, know he’s healthy and well taken-care of: you did it yourself. His breathing slows. You can feel it against your chest, the way the steady rise and fall becomes slower and slower and you know you’ve won when you hear a soft snore, his parted lips smashed against your chest.

You stay like that for a while, Javier lying on top of you and resting. It’s a comfort to have him pressed against you, to feel your husband’s body and know that he’s here. It’s even better to know he’s resting well, deeply, from the way he slumbers against your body. You intermittently kiss his head, continuing to rub his head in hopes it’ll loosen the tension he’ll surely have when he wakes.

About an hour passes, and you find yourself drowsier and drowsier as the sun rises higher and higher in the sky. Scooting out from beneath Javier, you replace your chest with a pillow to support his face. Rolling him slightly to the side, you cuddle in behind him and spoon him, your arms around him.

The quiet Sunday morning is all too perfect. You drift off too, then wake up an hour or two later and proceed about your household chores. You burn some pretty candles, clean, listen to the radio.

Javier doesn’t wake until 10 P.M. that night, 15 hours after he fell asleep.

Some nap.

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whosjunglejim4322 · 4 years

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Umbra | J. Seo (m)

》 Genre: vampire au! Smut, fluff, minor angst and mentions of violence, This story also features Yuta, Taeyong, Jaehyun, Jungwoo, Doyoung and Mark as his coven members

》 Warnings: spitting, dry humping, mentions of blood obvi, mentions of feeding, strong boy trying not to fuck you into oblivion, his eyes get black he's when he's hungry/horny, disgusting amount of fluff, omg sorta strength kink? Johnny is very in love w you and very protective cause some of his brothers are out of pocket, Jungwoo wants to b ur bestie lowkey, Yuta is a lil shit

Chapter 2

There are many things that Johnny loves about you. He could spend all his time showering you with professions of his adoration, and he'd never grow tired of it. Though, his concept of time and yours are slightly different.

He's patient, excessively so sometimes, in your humble opinion. But, he also never expected in his three hundred and forty five years of existence, to find someone who manages to warm his cold and stagnant heart in the way you have.

Now, anytime away from you is a bit bothersome.

It's just, he never knew humans like you existed. In his world, there are either those who lust after his kind and the benefits in which their heightened senses and skills provide, or those who see him as a complete moral abomination.

Even now, in a society that has to live in conjunction with vampires, there are still so many people who fear him. Well, they fear what they think he is. A creature of the night, a demon, something that is only greedy for strife and nothing more.

You were the first person who genuinely throttled him, curious and wide eyed, completely fascinated by him. And not in a way that made him feel like he was under a microscope, but in a way that made him feel as though he was something...to be admired.

Your heartbeat, even after a year, still flutters like the wings of dragonfly whenever he displays his strength; swinging you up into his arms like you're made of feathers and all things delicate.

At first, he thought you were scared, weary, perhaps, about his abnormalities. He couldn't find any other explanation for the way you seemed to shrink in his presence whenever he'd dip his head below your chin to grace your throat with his lips, cooling your hot skin.

It didn't make sense. Not until he realized there is a direct correlation to your change and scent, and these moments in which he can be himself around you.

You like it. You like that he's different, a complete opposite to what you'd find in the common world. If he thought he could be any more enamored, anymore breathless than he was before (no pun intended) he was wrong.

Even now, with you lying with your back against his hard chest, playing with his slim fingers, your voice is nothing but earnest. Curious, in your own little world that consists of just you and him.

He thinks, no he knows, that if he had a pulse it would be racing every time he's around you. Every time you ask him a question that would normally repulse anyone else, even when you place his cool palm against your blazing cheek, giddy about the difference in temperature. He can tell that you just want to know more about him, about how he exists in the world. He simply can't resist indulging you.

"So...everyone doesn't taste the same? I always just assumed that blood is, well, blood." He smiles to himself as you trace shapes into his palm, before flipping his hand over and grazing your fingertips over his protruding knuckles.

The feeling of your skin against his is so pleasant he almost gets distracted.

"Well, it depends, really," his free hand strokes up and down your arms, savoring the softness. "sometimes the difference is slight, like someone who's A or B negative, but other times it can be quite stark. It's about chemistry really."

He can already see your expression in his head, furrowed brows, lips pursed in a manner too cute for your own good. He absentmindedly pushes you further against his chest, reclining slightly against the pillows as to make it more comfortable for you. You hum in satisfaction.

"Chemistry? Like how you feel about the person?" He can't quite pinpoint what is laced within the lilt of your voice, he answers nonetheless, chuckling warmly.

The sound is like pure velvet, causing your skin to tingle. You shiver, and he pulls your blanket over you, worried his lack of body heat may be disturbing your comfort. He doesn't realize how wrong he is.

"It's more like, how that person has lived. Their natural...how do I say...essence? Yes, their essence sometimes can determine how desirable some ones blood is to us."

He doesn't miss the way your heartbeat falters in rythm. He grins, as you take both of his hands in yours and intertwine your fingers. He twists his wrist and brings your knuckles up to his lips, kissing your skin.

You shift underneath the covers, suddenly thankful for his cool temperature. You know that most of the vampires that exist in society use blood bags from the banks provided, but you still wonder...

"Am I...am I desirable to you? Like, my blood, or whatever." You wish you could say you usually aren't so bad at speaking when you're around him, but that would be a blatant lie.

It's the most endearing thing he's ever witnessed.

His hands are gone from yours and elsewhere in the blink of an eye, one strong arm locked around your torso as his free hand reaches down to cup your chin. He turns and lifts your head towards him, gently, and the look in his eyes has your breath stalling momentarily.

"Of course you are, silly," he says it as if it's the most obvious thing ever, leaning down to peck your nose. Butterflies swarm violently in your belly. "I desire you in every way there is to desire someone, it makes me want to keep you all to myself. No one else should be allowed to even think about you, or your blood, in that way."

He looks lost in thought for a second, pupils almost darkening the whole of his irises, before he seemingly brings himself out of his daze. You turn in his hold, adjusting your position so that you're practically lying on top of him, chests touching and your legs cradled between his hips. He holds you effortlessly in his arms.

"Well it wouldn't matter anyways, cause I'm all yours." His pearly teeth show from behind the pillowy surface of his lips, as he leans in to kiss you in a manner that has you reaching out to wrap your hand around the nape of his neck.

"Mhm, all mine." He murmurs, nose nudging against yours as he shifts back and forth from your top lip, and then your bottom, tongue exploring the surface of each.

Kissing you, is another experience entirely for him. He wonders if it feels for you as it does for him, like pure intoxication. It brings back memories, memories he didn't think could still be reachable in the depths of his mind.

A time where he was warm, where life thrummed through his veins like the rushing current of a river. You are springtime on his tongue, the rays of sunlight that once heated his skin, the smell of flora in the air that mingles with the fleeting breeze.

He almost whines when you depart from his mouth, yearning already heavy in the pit of his stomach.

You look almost nervous, suddenly finicking with the front of his shirt as you sit back on his lap. He can hear the acceleration of your heartbeat, can smell the anxiety that is almost as heady as your desire.

He reaches out to cup your cheek, something he often does as a comforting gesture. You smile softly, meeting his curious, tepid gaze.

"So...I have a question," your voice shakes and you huff. "I mean, I was just wondering," he senses your struggle, wrapping his arms around you and sitting up so that your chests are nearly touching again, his palms splayed against your lower back.

"You can ask me anything, sweetheart. You know that." His voice, as sweet as honey, calms your racing pulse for a moment. Until you actually say the words out loud, wincing as if preparing for a scolding.

"Well I know you have a family, of sorts, from what you've told me. And I know you've always been really...hesitant to tell me more about them? I mean I've never been over, to your home or met them,"

Understanding washes over him, hands rubbing your back soothingly as the glint in his irises provokes an odd sensation within your belly. Like he knew this conversation would have to be had one day.

He lets you finish speaking, though your voice has even more of a tremor than before, now.

"Sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable, I understand if you don't want me over there."

Urgency calcifies in his chest, the sad lilt to your soft voice making him feel ill. The way you say it is as if you think he doesn't want you in his space, like he's keeping you away from there because of something other than rational reasoning, doesn't sit right with him.

He cups your jaw, firmly but gently.

"I want you with me as much as possible, never think that I don't want you. That is not at all why I haven't brought you over there," You have no choice but to believe him, when he's looking at you with such a passionate gaze far heavier than what you're used to in a normal setting, his words concise.

"I am...well I'm old, and so are they. I've spent a long time being alienated, far before we were even accepted in the new world. We've settled here since before you were born, so you won't remember what it was like when people were forced to live along side us."

You hate hearing the unusual grain of what seems to be dejection in his tone, though you listen fervently anyways, his hands still comforting you despite the fact that his eyes are the ones cast down. You want to kiss the furrow between his dark brows.

"I've accepted who I am, furthermore I've accepted who I want to be. I realized that, it would do me no good to be a monster if people were willing, even if begrudgingly, to accept our existence. But my brothers,"

Your stomach sinks at the way he says it, knowing without a doubt that this is the answer to your original question, that his stance had to be explained before he told you something like this.

"they don't feel the same way as me, so they are stuck in their ways beyond coercion. They live very different lives, they are what our kind refer to as nightcrawlers, it's sardonic inside joke for those of us that would rather not conform to the new age of mutual concurrency."

"They are still a bit resentful for the fact that they can't exactly give in to their natural instincts. They don't see the humans acceptance as welcoming, they see it as a mockery. Do you see where I'm coming from?"

You look a bit out of it, like maybe you're frightened and he's suddenly worried he's gone overboard, that he's scared you in a way that can't be fixed. His eyes are suddenly frantic.

But then you speak, and you don't sound vexed, nor unsettled. Your question is simple, your thighs tightening around his waist as if to draw yourself closer to his comfort, arms looping around his shoulders.

"Do they all feel that way?"

He smiles, muscles untensing as you play with his hair in the way you usually do. Your eyes never leave his, and he wonders how he got so lucky.

"The youngest, well the youngest in our years, they're a bit less malicious about it. They don't cross anyone unless someone crosses them, but they can be excessively territorial because of their youth."

The tension, despite talking about a topic so heavy, is light again. You feel a bit silly now, understanding why he might not want you in close proximity with his coven.

But, still, knowing that there are people, for lack of better term, that have been in his life unimaginably long; a completely different, solidified version of a family, it makes you more nosey than usual. Could they really be that different from him?

"And...you're sure that if I were to meet them, it would end badly?" His eyebrow twitches in an inquisitive manner, surprise coloring his sharp features.

"I- well I thought you were just curious, I didn't think you'd actually want to meet them. Especially after all of that,"

It's as if he's speaking to himself out loud, his pink tongue flicking out to wet his lips. You resist the urge to kiss him so suddenly.

"but I don't suppose so. It's already established that you're mine. If there's one rule we follow, it's that. They know how I feel about you, despite our differences."

The sturdiness to his voice when he speaks of you being his, has your belly filling with heat at an irrational rate, and you suddenly remember how it felt to see him before you actually got to know him.

He's incredibly intimidating on the surface, firm and stoic. You can't see how anyone would want to anger him.

"So then I'd be safe, meeting them. And I'd get to see if you guys really have furniture."

Despite not needing to, he swallows. It's hard impossible to say no to you, when you look at him like that and sound so genuinely interested at a prospect that would make any other person run for the hills, even cracking jokes.

You're soft, and too innocent for your own good. He should say no, but to risk seeing a pout form on your soft lips, or having to hear the disappointment in your voice, it's unbearable.

"You really want to meet them, don't you?" He can't fight his smile when your face lights up like that.

"Well, I think it's important. They're your family, one way or another." You're gentle when you speak, honest.

"You're safe with me, you have to know that. But they're...not used to being around humans that aren't just accessories. The last thing I want is for one of them to say something that makes you uncomfortable."

It's evident in the low timbre of his tone that he's serious, and any smart person might listen. But as he said, and as you believe wholeheartedly, you're safe with him. Safer than you'd ever be.

And, as wrong as it may be, you want to see what other vampires are like. You're really only used to Johnny, the exception, where as most modern vampires only come out when absolutely necessary. Meeting him, and falling in love with him, has given you a brand new sight towards the world. Is it that insane to want to meet his brothers that have been so close to him for so long?

"I'll be with you, so it won't matter. I'll bet they're not even that scary, no ones scarier than you."

Your triumphant, playful smile has him grinning from ear to ear, leaning down to capture your lips between his own. Even though you're wrong about them, he's weak. Too weak.

"Yeah? Afraid I'll eat you for breakfast?" His breath is suddenly against your earlobe and you shudder pleasantly, grasping onto his shoulders before regaining some sort of composure.

"I'm definitely dinner, breakfast is really overrated. Unless it's breakfast for dinner, that's way better for some reason?"

He's kissing you again, despite the fact that he's smiling too hard for his own good, swiftly flipping you over so that you're caged underneath his body. His weight is barely perceptible even with your chests touching, forearms holding himself up.

"You'll be the death of me, you know that?" He has a hard time speaking without strain due to the way his throat has suddenly tightened with need, your legs wrapping around his trim torso and pushing his hips further against yours.

"Not possible, unless I've suddenly charmed your heart into beating again." You tease, though his eyebrows remain furrowed in concentration as he kisses you between words, dangerously sensual. You smell too divine.

"Very possible, actually. If you only knew how you make me feel."

Your belly lurches at the desperation that flows from him, his aura downright fever inducing. Without thinking, your crotch nudges his, bucking with the slightest of movements. But it's enough, enough to have his jaw clenching and a habitual breath of restraint leaving his nose.

Five fingers grasp your chin, so he can kiss you, hard. His hips begin to roll as his teeth nibble your bottom lip, the fabric of his jeans an arousing juxtaposition to your soft lounge shorts, your lack of underwear making it all the more satisfying.

He's hard, too. Knowing his dick is just underneath, hard for you, it'll never not give you whiplash. It gets you drunk, knowing your effect on him is as overwhelming as his on you. You're whimpering against his tongue, rubbing yourself on his bulge.

"Mmm, fuck." He growls, capturing your wrists in his palms before your next breath, raising them above your head and making sure they're comfortable against the pillows.

He's inches away from your face now, and his expression alone is enough to have your walls pulsing around nothing, desire seeping into your chest and hardening your nipples, goosebumps forming across your skin.

He looks at you like he's hungry, nostrils flaring avariciously. He tries so very hard to fight the darkness that fills his sclera like ink, knowing how very monstrous and unlike himself it makes him appear.

But he hears the way it makes your heart race. He can practically taste the thrill that seeps from your pores, the unbridled arousal that drips from your cunt like syrup. Your neck cranes upwards to try and reach his lips, and he smirks before meeting you halfway.

"Do you want me to keep rubbing your pussy like this," he looks down between your bodies and purposely rolls his hips in an accentuated fashion. "or do you want my dick?"

His voice is brusque, but caring and accommodating as it always is, his plump lips quivering slightly from the way his mouth waters.

"Can I have your dick, please?" You return, his mouth quirking up into a sideways grin.

"Such good manners," he kisses you again, sloppily, the sounds lewd and causing you to shiver against his unwavering body. "how could I ever deny you?"

You blink, and cool air is breezing against your wet slit, the nakedness sending a wave of tingles through your nerve endings. Before you can look down, you feel his cock against your clit, smooth and rounded tip gathering wetness from your hole before circling it over your clit.

He uses one hand to keep your legs parted for his viewing, fingers softly gripping your flesh as he sits back on his haunches. You feel impatience crawling up your throat, toes already curling as your bud throbs and your walls ache.

He's so pretty, he is raven hair against olive skin, an onyx sky against shimmering stars. Your hands reach out for his hips, delicate but fierce in their strength. He rubs his shaft against your folds, before prodding at your entrance.

He always watches your expression when he first slides in, the way your mouth falls open and you are suddenly this beautiful, agonizingly worked up thing. He bites down on his bottom lip as his eyes flicker from your pussy, lovlier than a flower and welcoming him with a squeeze, to your face.

Your eyes are bleary as they stare back up at him, your breathing already erratic. His lip curls with the need to hiss, to ravage you. But he takes it slow, he loves watching you fall apart too much. And you're so wet around him, moaning his name like it's the only word you know.

"Johnnyyyy, oh - umph." He rocks into, gracefully and with a deliberate curl. You claw at the front of his tee shirt, pulling him down to your face.

He eagerly obliges, meeting your lips with a soft smack, the angle only pushing him deeper within your body. His pace has increased, the front of his thighs colliding with the back of yours. His mouth somehow remains steady, as if he's not fucking you like he is.

He's parting from you sooner than you'd like, but you know he likes to fuck you like this, able to see all of you and savor it. It's still the most incredible thing he'll ever witness or experience, he's sure of it.

He can't believe a creature like him could be so lucky, here with his manhood buried to the hilt inside of someone so breathtaking, so innately divine. Your essence is thick and wet, coating his shaft each time he pulls out.

"Such a pretty pussy, so fuckin' pretty baby." His voice is gruff, nose twitching and eyes black. You wrap your fingers around his strong, sturdy forearms as his hands grip the softness of your waist. His lips purse and a string of spit dribbles down your clit.

"Ungh, oh my- ohhhhh Johnny please please." You're not sure what your begging for, and it doesn't matter. Because he'll give you whatever it is you need before you know you need it, already hooking your legs over his broad shoulders, gripping your jaw and pushing it up so that he can mouth at your sensitive neck.

"Mmm, I got you baby, I'm right here," he takes your earlobe in his mouth before marking your throat, licking and sucking. "I can already feel your belly tensing sweetheart, gonna make a mess for me?"

All you can do is nod, eyes squeezed shut and hands exploring his firm abdomen while he pushes himself all the way into you; rocking his hips back and forth to make sure the tip of his cock is rubbing that sweet spot inside of you. Your clit is being stimulated in the process, and you know you're not going to last long.

He knows it too, and his thumb is suddenly on your swelling bud, rubbing you in circles faster than you can comprehend, but with just enough pressure to have your nails digging into his back with fervor. Having unbreakable skin must be a plus, in his case.

You're tensing more now, twitching even. Your energy is buzzing around him, electric. Your heart pounds like a drum, rattling against your ribcage and causing blood to thrum viciously throughout your veins. His thrusts become a bit more frantic, his senses completely overcome with you.

He's so lost in his own pleasure he doesn't even hear you cum. He feels you go limp underneath him, back arching off the bed and your walls spasming around his cock.

He realizes now that you're trying to shove your face in the pillows, a silent sob ripping through your body. He's pulling you to him, and you're suddenly in his lap, as he comforts you with a soothing coo.

When you move your face from the crook of his neck and he's met with your teary eyes and damp skin, he's thrown off the edge.

Your forehead is against his as he bites back a snarl of sorts, pumping into you from below with as much restraint as he can muster as to not overwhelm you since you've just cum as well.

He has to move his hands away from you for a quick second, opting for the bed sheets instead while you cling onto him and kiss his cheeks, his jaw, his neck. He feels selfish, but he also doesn't want to crush your hip bones in such a state.

Your breathing is still uneven, even after several minutes and once he's sure that he's in his right frame of mind, his arms are around you again.

Your body is sweetly ravaged by his mouth, lips leaving a wet trail over too much skin in such a short amount of time. You're still sensitive, wincing as his enthusiasm causes you to shift on his lap.

"Oh." He uses one arm to wrap around your middle, slowly pulling you off of his dick and lying you down against the comforter.

You whine at the loss of contact as he disappears, returning in a blur with a warm, damp cloth. He's in between your legs, wiping away your shared mess and muttering soft sorrys when he's just a smidge too rough. You're still embarrassed by his need to take care of you like this, bashfully looking away.

You don't realize he's gone and returned until the covers are being thrown over your body, his arms securing you to his solid chest and his lips against your ear.

"You need sleep, don't argue." He kisses the back of your head and you smile to yourself, snuggling further against his figure. You feel like you're being warmed from the inside out, despite how cool his skin is against yours.

"M'not gonna argue, you made me tired," The thump of your pulse and the shy lilt to your voice satisfies him, and he wishes that he could make love to you all over again.

"When will you take me to go meet the others?" Your speech is already slightly slurred with sleep, a yawn following. He sighs, kissing behind your ear.

"Give me until tomorrow night, I need to discuss a few things. Then we'll go, I promise."

He wishes that this could be a more exciting prospect for him, that in the back of his mind he weren't, for the first time in a long time, genuinely worried about how his brothers might react.

It's got nothing to do with his capability. Without question he will keep you safe, his strength is comparable to the eldest and he'd forge fire if it meant having you whole and in his arms.

But his coven, they're different than what he knows you're expecting. He knows that because of primal, and ancestral rules that they will not lay a hand on you.

If he's honest, it's more so what might come out of their mouths that worries him. He can't have them slip up and say something they're not supposed. It'll kill him if there's even one crease of worry or sadness etched onto your pretty face. He won't allow it.

But if it's important to you, it's important to him. You're here, asleep in his arms, and he's certain that if he had a soul, he would trade it if it meant another lifetime of your existence.

•

Johnny isn't next to you when you wake up, which isn't a particularly uncommon occurrence. It's just that normally he'd let you know beforehand, even shaking you awake sometimes just to mumble a be back soon in your ear, despite the fact that you're half asleep.

You reach over to your bedside table to grab your phone, clicking it on and feeling a bit less tense realizing he's left you a message. You smile.

Sorry I had to leave so early, sweetheart. I'm speaking with my brothers and getting some things taken care of. Don't worry. I love you and I'll see you soon. xx

He must be serious, about the way they behave. It's not that you don't believe him, you'd just rather see the positives, in whatever way you can. It's a little bit startling to think about today, if you're honest. Especially after such an all consuming night, the sun now too bright in your eyes, the scent of Johnny still on your sheets and clothes.

You feel anything but dark and dreary when you think of him. That's not to say he's not quite scary if you don't know him. Broad and towering, gaze low and piercing in a way that'll have you looking away nervously if he were to make eye contact with you.

But you can't imagine him as anything but what he is, beautiful and lively and kind, soft around the cold hard edges.

You stretch as you rise from your bed, joints popping as you pull yourself onto your feet. You wince slightly, realizing between your thighs is still fairly sore, ghosts of his touch lingering on your heated skin.

You and Johnny don't have sex incredibly often, at least not by normal human couple standards. It's pretty obvious why. His ability to control his strength, his desire, his thirst; in that state, as he has explained, it leaves him a little bit frayed.

It's not like you're not satisfied anyways, he's more than generous with his mouth and fingers, and despite the fact that he holds nearly half of his full vigor back when the two of you are intimate, it's still a little bit throttling for you afterwards.

The day is boring without him, quite frankly, but despite whatever you may think about it, you still respect his decision to plan ahead for your visit.

You do get it, it's not that. If anything, you just feel too safe with him. To the point where you sometimes feel invincible in his arms.

It almost makes up for the fact that you don't get to show him off as much as you'd like, as silly as it sounds. His kind can go out in the sun, but it's a bit bothersome after a while from what you've heard. He is almost a cliché in that department, most days either spent with him in doors or at night.

Sometimes, though, you wonder what it would be like if he were human. It wouldn't make a difference, you're sure of that, because he'll always be your Johnny. But the thought does venture into your mind every now and then, because of the way he speaks of his humanhood. As if he's trying not to admit how much he misses it.

You often wonder what he must have looked like when he could blush, with his vibrant smile on show, and dimples high on his soft cheeks.

A small, selfish part of you envies the people who might have gotten to witness him like that. Warm, a little uncoordinated maybe, eyes topaz in the sun. He must have been a sight to behold, throughout his human life.

Deep down, a part of you knows that, that is what this whole thing with his brothers boils down to. You're not just curious, you're madly in love with him. So much so that when he's away, it does feel uncomfortable. You never believed people when they spoke of love that way, you always thought it to be quite gross, actually.

And maybe you're just a silly little human with silly little feelings, to be so smitten after a year. But there's no going back now, he's a part of you, so of course you think about how much of him you've never gotten to see. Of course you want to meet any tangible part of his incomprehensible life, his family. Even if it's not conventional.

It leaves an odd pit in your stomach, thinking of him young and youthful, thinking of his mother and father and the life that they had created so many lifetimes ago.

You think of him at eighteen, maybe still plush in some areas not yet tainted by the work of adulthood. Had he ever been in love, back then? You swallow back the irrational bitterness you suddenly taste.

You think of him at twenty, and what he might have been passionate about. What life was even like for him. You think of his first kiss, and him at twenty four, a year before his life as what he is now, began.

Truthfully, you don't know a lot about him. It's a strange, sudden realization, but it's just never really mattered in all honesty. Because you know him, how he is now, which is all you'll ever get and is more than what you could've ever asked for.

You've always felt like it's different because his existence in itself has been so tremulous, and in a lot of ways very hard to talk about without it getting uncomfortable because of all that he has lost, or subsequently reminding him of what he is.

Never things he'd admit out loud, but definitely something you've picked up on in his expression or the wistfulness in his voice. It doesn't matter, to you; the bad parts. He's yours, and somehow you two have found each other despite so many centuries vouching on never having met one another at all. You wish you could truly express to him how nothing would ever stray you away.

You've showered and eaten an inadequate dinner by the time Johnny shows up, presence barely perceptible until he's wrapping his strong arms around you from behind.

You're used to it by now, not even flinching anymore. You melt instantaneously, placing your hands over his that are resting around your waist.

"Hi." He whispers, lips against the shell of your ear. You shiver and let out a giggle, turning in his grasp to get a kiss. He's on your lips before you even have to lift yourself on your tippy toes.

"Mm, hi." You mumble, hands cupping his jaw. You hum as he pulls you closer, spinning you so that you're pressed against the counter, his hand on the small of your back blocking you from the hard edge.

"We could stay here, you know," he smiles against your mouth, half teasing and half serious. "a change of plan never hurt anybody."

The idea is actually tempting.

"But I just showered." You pout, and his hands are rubbing your sides, eyes contemplative.

"You're right, you shouldn't go over there smelling anymore enticing than you already do, anyways." He says it with a grit of his teeth, as if the mere thought bothers him.

You're too distracted by his face to really absorb what he's saying, smiling up at him, practically beaming. Before he can quirk his brow and boop your nose with the tip of his finger, you kiss him again.

It's chaste, but it's sincere.

"You're so cute when you're all disgruntled." You state, throwing your arms around his neck. He snorts, shaking his head and licking his heart shaped lips lips out of habit.

"I'm not disgruntled, I just want this to go well." He replies, broad shoulders slumping. You unhook your arms from around him to grasp his hands, large and welcoming in yours. He intertwines your fingers.

"It will. Because I'm with you." It's simple, and undeniable. He knows that, and accepts defeat when he sees how truly bright the gleam in your eye is. You're his own little sun.

During the drive to his home, Johnny takes this time to give you some much needed insight on the creatures you’ll be meeting. He gives you their names, some key characteristics so that you won’t be startled by their behavior, but he doesn’t give you their ages. He simply refers to the one named Yuta as the oldest, and Mark as the youngest.

“Youngest and oldest in vampire years or..?” You ask, the corner of his mouth twitching into an amused smile at your interest. You forget to focus for a moment, tracing the planes of his side profile with your eyes.

“Yuta was my age when he was changed, but he is, in our terms, the eldest. Mark is the youngest both in the factors.” His thumb strokes the back of your knuckles where your clasped hands rest on the center console, though it doesn’t soothe all the burning questions that you’ve decided need to stay in your head, for now.

You think of mark first, something about his youth, despite the fact that he is centuries older than you, seeming a little bit less intimidating. Almost abstract, in a way. As he describes the youngest, it’s easy to picture a boyish smile, innocence. Until he throws in the fact that the ones that get changed before the brain is fully developed, tend to be the ones with more of an unsteady grasp on their more potent emotions. You can guess what that means, and he suddenly regrets ever opening his mouth.

Johnny almost debates whether or not he should turn the car around and forget about this occasion all together, growing anxious at your monotone expression and the way you are chewing the skin of your bottom lip, and not realizing you are just lost in deep thought, not perturbed or uncomfortable.

Really, you are just trying to make out what his brothers may be like. Taeyong, Jaehyun, Jungwoo, Doyoung. For some reason, it’s the thought of meeting Yuta that seems the most daunting. Despite the fact that he is Johnny’s age, not technically but anyways - knowing that he has been around for so long has you wondering how a person like that even thinks.

Maybe you should've listened to your boyfriend. No, you're brave. But sometimes you are not very smart.

You are pulled for your reverie of sorts when your surroundings become darker, gloomier in the way that the trees seem to shield the road ahead from the sun, forming a canopy from above and casting misshapen shadows across the ground.

You don’t realize you’re clutching his hand tighter until Johnny turns to look at you with worried eyes, all the stars and every wish that he could ever grant you swirling in his chocolate irises.

“Are you alright? We can turn around and-”

You shake your head in defiance, determined. You aren’t going to back out now, not when you can already see the house from around the bend, pillars high and spiraling, a wide balcony peeking out from behind the trees.

“I’m perfectly fine, promise.” you give him a soft, reassuring smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes but he knows you’ll likely scowl at him if he keeps insisting on your indifference, so he takes the car just a little bit further, rounding a bend and stalling before cutting the engine.

The house is a lot more grand that you’d previously expected, the outside still kempt but not as pristine. Mostly, you thought that it would offensive to coin their home as something dark and menacing, not wanting to contribute to the cliché. But, it does in fact feel as though you are walking into a lair.

It’s beauty is undeniable, though, despite the lack of real warmth that it exudes. Upon entering, wide open space greets you, black marble flooring underneath your boots and a staircase straddling either side of the entryway. Above it is a balcony, hanging over the foyer from the second floor.

“So I was correct, about the furniture.” You murmur, pressed against his hard side with your arms wound around his forearm despite the fact that the house is seemingly empty. You know that it’s not, though. Any living being who walked into this house would be able to feel it, the static that seems to raise the hair on the back of your neck.

“You'll have to forgive our complacency when it comes to interior design,"

The voice seems to appear out of nowhere, melodic and smooth and echoing off of the walls in a way that makes the direction of the sound imperceptible. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see someone making their way down the left staircase, gliding more so than walking.

"So many years leave us comfortable, rather than fashionable."

Two figures float behind him, while three others descend down the opposite staircase. You could've sworn you'd only glanced at Johnny for half a second, before they suddenly materialized.

The man is suddenly right in front of you, and your eyes act as if they have no choice but to meet his, your breath stalling. It reminds you of the first time you saw Johnny, how shocking it was to be faced with such inhuman beauty.

"My name is Taeyong, it's lovely to meet you." The creature flashes a bright smile, something unreadable in his sharp eyes. His quaint lips are mischievous, or maybe you're just paranoid.

You don't have a chance to respond, already surrounded by a group that seem oddly eager to meet you despite what Johnny had warned, their gate an obvious contrast to your boyfriends.

They seem to sway effortlessly rather than stand perfectly still, their proximity closer than that of strangers. The energy around them feels unpredictable, and without thought your hand tightens around Johnny's.

"Wow, she smells good." A voice muses from the group, and you follow it to find a face that you somehow automatically know belongs to Mark. His face is youthful, eyes wide and full of glee and then a bit amused, due to what you can assume is from your boyfriend glaring at him sharply.

"No wonder he's so attached." The boy beside Mark, with dimples as deep as you've ever seen, hums to his friend.

"Please, don't be so crude, children. She is our guest." This voice is authoritative, the timbre low but the tone gentle like the stroke of a feather.

The group seems to make way for him without thought, and again, you're instantly struck with recognition simply by his presence alone.

He approaches you without caution, you blink and he's suddenly right there. His hair is longer than the others, curling around his prominent chin and framing his elegant features.

"It's a real pleasure to meet you, we've heard so much about the little human that's enamored our dear brother." You can't look away from his cunning face, his eyes are almost wild in excitement, plush lips stretching across his face to reveal a million wat smile.

He extends his hand towards you, with a bit more reserve now - and the first thing you notice are the sharp, glossy black nails that are more akin to claws, formed into stilettos at the tips of his delicate, slender fingers.

"Careful." Johnny mutters to his brother through his teeth, the man giggling in amusement as he gently takes your hand in his. You hadn't even realized you'd extended it back, his skin almost colder than Johnny's if possible.

"Tsk, so worried. For what reason? Look, I'm being as gentle as a hummingbird. Her hands are so soft."

Yuta. It's undeniable, he's too confident, bemused by this whole ordeal and even more so by the way his brother has stiffened beside you, pulling you back just a fraction of an inch.

The elder sighs wistfully, allowing your hand to drop from his. He meets your eyes once more, your skin buzzing oddly.

"My name is-"

"Yuta. I-I know, I mean I guessed."

It's the first word you've spoken to any them, and your voice is shakier than you'd like, throat dry. The mans lips twitch into a grin, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he clasps his hands together in a stunned manner.

"Wow, perceptive you are. So sure, despite appearing so meek."

You can't decipher his tone, worried that maybe you've messed up by interrupting him. He seems a bit perplexed, in a curious way. You're grateful for a new voice introducing themselves, directing your attention elsewhere.

"I'm Jungwoo," His voice is the most welcoming. "your skin is so pretty. Is that weird to say?" He mutters the last part to the slender, inquisitive man beside him, who's features are similar to that of a feline. He seems indifferent.

But, for the first time since you've arrived, you smile, an odd sense of relief flooding through your nervous system. You feel Johnny relax as well, and you glance up at him for just a moment, to see him already looking down at you.

"It's nice to meet you, Jungwoo," The jubilent vampire flashes you a smile. "all of you, really. Thankyou for welcoming me into your home."

"Of course, doll. Should we give her a tour?" Yuta speaks and Johnny responds almost a heartbeat after the elders suggestion.

"I can do that, give her some space." His voice is polite but firm, and Yuta giggles again, while the others back up a bit. Johnny readjusts his grip on your hand and begins moving towards the right staircase, turning his head to send the rest a look you can't see.

He leads you down the left corridor into a massive hallway, the walls a deep shade of plum, floors white marble instead of black like the ones downstairs.

Once you're out of view from the rest, he stills, turning towards you and rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

"I'm sorry about that, really." His eyes are apologetic and you snort, embracing his middle and kissing his chin.

"Sorry for what? I'm fine, they were fine."

He lets out a sigh, broad shoulders slumping as he does so. He believes you enough to not keep on, pressing his lips to your forehead before continuing his non informative tour.

"I wish they'd keep at least some of their thoughts to themselves," you're turning, brought down another lengthy hall with a massive picture window framing the north wall. Heavy burgundy curtains keep the sun from shining through the glass.

To the left is another set of stairs, small in comparison to the ones you've seen so far, framed with elegant railing. "this is my room, up here." He points to the door that sits right at the top of them, lonesome and heavy looking.

Your heartbeat is suddenly loud in your own ears, excitement bubbling in your belly at the prospect of being in a space that belongs to him. He senses this, and smiles to himself as he wraps his fingers around the doorknob and pushes it open.

Everything about his room is inherently Johnny. It's simple, but so very him.

The atmosphere is completely different to what the rest of the house provokes, the floors a deep cherry red, hardwood. A round, red rug sits in the middle of the room, a leather sectional nestled in the corner to the right. Beside it hangs rows of shelves with a multitude of books, more than you'd normally see lounging in some ones room. He's probably read them all three times over by now.

He has a television, which shouldn't make you giggle as it does. It's far bigger than necessary, taking up almost all the space on the eastern wall. There's a door almost adjacent to the one you entered from, which you presume is the bathroom.

"I love it, it's so comfortable in here." You muse, trotting towards the sectional and throwing yourself on the massive sofa. He chuckles, sauntering towards you and lifting your head so that he can place it atop his lap.

He can't lie to himself, it makes him ache in the most pleasant of ways to have you here, in a place that has been his only real peace since he's met you. Well, scratch that. You are his only safe haven.

"Yeah?" He replies, scratching your scalp lightly, studying the softness of your features as you gaze up at him, elated.

"Mhm, it feels like stepping into a different house entirely. Not that I have an issue with the interior design." You playfully mock his brother Taeyong’s earlier words, and laughter bubbles from your boyfriends throat.

"You don't think it's too melancholy? The house, I mean."

You shake your head indifferently, hair ruffling against the material of his jeans that are covering his thick thighs.

"To be honest it is quite....vampire-y, but it's elegant. And big. And knowing you live here makes it not seem so dark."

His hands are suddenly cupping the area just underneath your arms, effortlessly pulling you up so that you're straddling his lap. Your thighs find their place immediately, knees squeezing his torso.

"You're too good. Too pretty to be in a place like this." Despite his tone his eyes are formed into crescent moons from his smile, and you don't fight the urge to kiss him.

"Shush, or I'll battle you to the death." You mumble, his nose nudging your cheek as he tilts his head to move in a steady rythm with your mouth.

"Mm, think I beat you to it." He teases, and you can feel his smile. You're not in the frame of mind to scold him for that one.

Naturally, without even thinking, your body heats up fast from the way he kisses you. Even if he's trying to be chaste, it always ends up with a flame being fed by his tongue. His scent, the sensation of wholeness when you're surrounded by him.

Especially now, in the comfort of and quiet of his room when all you can hear is the smack of your mouths, steady and calculated. You're encapsulated by everything that belongs to the person you love.

A soft push to your shoulders has you humming in confusion, you're still not back on earth when you break apart to see the contrived, reluctant expression that twists his face.

"We can't - not here." He strains, very much so aware of way your hips are planted so firmly against his, the sweet scent of blood that rushes like a current through the area between your thighs.

You pout, and instinctually he's cupping your face between his palms, kissing it away. His fingertips graze the shell of your ear.

"Don't give me that look, you know why I'm saying no. If they thought you smelled good before, you'd be the finest of dining options if you walked down there wet."

Your body pulses with arousal, arousal that he can practically taste on the tip of his tongue. A petulant whine slips from your throat, while your palms graze his hardening length through his jeans, and his cock twitches.

Fuck. He really can't deny you, can he?

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hopeless-ro-simptic · 4 years

Text

Familiar Cerulean Eyes Pt. 3

Hear me out... Dabi is a fuck boi, Touya is a simp. I’m just saying. This part is Dabi’s point of view and the war that goes on in his brain when dealing with the feelings he has for Y/N. This one is a little shorter but I basically have the next part ready, I just need to tweak it a bit before posting so expect it soon.

Click here for a full list of other parts. Part 4

Still no smut. It’s a slow burn <3

Taglist: @skzero-99 @superblyspeedydragon @jparra4587 @flyingowls @emrysaaryn @imuziawi @sheedaabee @peculiarinsomniac @littlelovebug98 @plutoneu @giftofwonder @kitty-kat-ash @fukyouthink @anarchys-bnha-mess

Word Count: 2 k

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It had taken almost an hour for you to fall back asleep. Dabi played on his phone quietly, glancing over at you every so often, making snarky comments about how you were more than welcome to join him in the bed, which you had completely ignored.

Even though his alpha was begging him to pick your cute little ass up and force you into giving him attention, he resisted, knowing that would only freak you out more and would prolong the inevitable. At some point your resolve would cave. At some point you would reach out to him wanting the attention that only he could give you.

He also knew at some point you would come to the realization of who he was...

He had vowed to stay away from you, to let you move on with life, to let you have a chance at free will. But the moment he saw you in that market, with the Todoroki boy of all people, he couldn’t stop himself. He had naively thought that when he disappeared that Endevor would give up and let you go. He didn’t think that he would just pass you along to his favorite son. His pride and joy. You were older than the half and half brat by several years. Sure you looked young, but that didn’t change the fact that you were already in your twenties and was following around a teenage alpha like a lost puppy dog.

Dabi was livid. He didn’t mean to start the fire, but the alpha inside took over and the next thing he knew, the little runt was running off to go be hero, leaving you behind unprotected and scared. Dumb kid, why would he leave something as precious as you, just to go deal with a stupid fire. You were even crying out for him, begging him to come back, and the damn runt didn’t even care. This isn’t at all the life that Dabi wanted for you, the whole reason he left was to protect you, and look what was happening instead.

So Dabi took you. He took you away from the Todoroki family like he should have done years ago.

Looking over at your sleeping form now, he hopped he made the right decision. He never wanted to get you tangled up in this kind of life. It was why he didn’t take you with him when he ran. Why he left you behind hoping that you would get to make something of your life that you actually wanted.

It was too late though, he couldn’t just back out of the league, and he didn’t want to. He strongly believed in what they stood for and he wanted to be apart of tearing down hero society as the world knew it. He wanted to be the one to bring Endevor down for all the pain and hurt he had caused the people that should have been the most important to him.

He paused, looking back over to you as a soft sigh escaped your lips. His Alpha was begging for release. He needed to get out of here, away from your tantalizing scent. Looking around the room he took stock of what all he had. He probably should get some more water, and he was almost out of cigarettes himself. He briefly wondered how you felt about smoking.. maybe he would quit if you asked. He made a mental list of things to pick up, maybe a couple things for you that would help you relax. He briefly wondered if (F/C) was still your favorite.

He stood up, frowning as he realized how stupid it was of him to make you sleep in that crappy chair. He should move you over to the bed where you could be more comfortable. He shuffled over to you quietly not wanting to rouse you, attempting to slip his arms under you to pick you up. The soft groan of annoyance that slipped out between your lips had him pausing. You pushed at his chest insistently in your sleep, at one point kicking your leg out narrowly missing his crotch, grumbling to get the fuck off you and let you sleep. You sounded like you were scolding an annoying sibling that wouldn’t leave you alone. He rolled his eyes, grabbing the pillow off his bed and tucking it behind your head instead. He would just let you sleep there if you were going to start cussing at him.

Taking one last glance around the room to make sure everything was secure, he put on his mask that covered his lower half of his face, concealing his identity and closed the door behind him. Locking it.

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The little bell above the door chimed as Dabi stepped into the small store. He nodded his head at the beta that was working the register, she was a pretty blonde that had taken quite a liking to Dabi. He was pretty sure she had no clue who he actually was, but he didn’t think she would be surprised. The part of town they were in wasn’t known for being a particularly safe neighborhood.

Dabi meandered through the store isles, picking up what he needed and placing it into the tiny basket that the store provided. He glanced through the shampoo and soap collection… he was pretty sure most girls used conditioner for their hair. Should he get you one that was made for omegas? Or should he get the one that matches the shampoo he uses at home… it wouldn’t be as obvious if he got the one that matches his stuff… and he did love them smell of it on you.

He groaned softly, leaning his head on the top shelf in front of him. Why was he even thinking like this? He was acting like he was pussy whipped. He hadn’t been this considerate of another person in years. In fact, he regularly used girls just to get through his ruts and then would kick them out right after, not even bothering to hear their name. Never has he ever given a shit if they were comfortable or what they would enjoy. He hasn’t cared about any of that shit since he left you behind at that damned house. Yet the second you are back in his life he has his tail tucked between his legs ready to bend to your every whim. You didn’t even want anything to do with him. Fuck, you were literally following his little bro-, that stupid brat around like he was your world just this morning. Like you… actually wanted him. Maybe you did... or maybe the looks you used to give him were all just an act for self perseverance and you were just using the same tactic on the kid.

“What’s wrong handsome? Bad hair day?”

Dabi lazily glanced over to the beta greeting him, having left her stool at the checkout counter to come check on one of her favorite customers. Dabi knew the beta wanted his attention. She had mentioned it one too many times that she could handle a rut just as well as any omega. Hell, Dabi had been seriously considering taking her for a test drive before all of this happened. She was pretty, in a slutty kind of way, perky. He raked his eyes down her body, a frown tugging at his lips as he compared her to you. He preferred you.

“What? You don’t like what you see?” A pout was growing on her lips and Dabi internally rolled his eyes at her pitchy whine. She would never be able to get his mind off of you. It wasn’t worth it.

“Sorry babe. I’m just not feeling great.” This placated her slightly, enough so that she rolled her eyes before turning back to the counter to busy herself with work once more.

Dabi looked back at the selection in front of him, grabbing the matching conditioner to what he already had in shampoo. He continued on with his shopping at a faster pace now, just wanting to get back to you, to your scent. He paused just before the counter, a collection of nesting blankets up on the wall in front of him of varying styles.

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Touya was on fire, but this time the fire wasn’t visible, and it wasn’t because of his quirk. His face was bright red as he stood in front of you, a crudely wrapped present in his hands, your F/C ribbon tied around it with a bow that was a little lopsided.

He had rushed into the kitchen where you and his mother Rei were working on putting together dinner after coming home late from training with his father. His mom had sent him a knowing smile, ruffling his hair to his annoyance, before excusing herself to another room leaving the two of you alone in the kitchen.

He was bursting with anxiety as he handed you the present, watching as you gingerly pulled one side of the ribbon letting it unravel, and pulling the wrapping apart to uncover the soft fur blanket that was bundled inside. The way that your face lit up, your cheeks turning as red as his own as you pulled the blanket out of the wrapping and up to your face to breathe in the smell that he had spent time making sure was covering the entire blanket made all his worries disappear. You liked it.

“I know, that this isn’t really the traditional way since… well you know.., but I wanted to get you something… I wanted to ask you to… if you wanted..” Touya was tripping over his words. Nothing seemed right. Nothing could explain the feelings he had for you, that he knew would only grow as you both reached presenting age, and not to mention maturity after that, he knew that this was only the beginning to what he had hoped would be a long life with you by his side. Even at such a young age, he knew you were it.

You could feel it too, he thought. You were always so kind to him, even though his father had bought you with the sole purpose of being Touya’s omega just to breed your quirks once you were older. You had always cared for him in a way that was different than how his parents had cared for each other and the moments that you two stole away to be alone convinced Touya that maybe you would be okay with the life that you were forced to live, as long as he was there with you.

The smile that you gave him melted his heart and he smiled back as you nodded. You knew what he was trying to say, you always did.

About three day’s later, Endevor set that blanket up in flames. Belittling the small omega for messy nesting habits, the young alpha for wasting time on courting an omega he already owned.

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Dabi shook his head, grabbing the blanket closest to him causing the beta at the counter to raise her eyebrows, throwing it up on the counter along with his basket of items. He quickly picked out his cigarettes, paying for the items and slipping out of the shop without another word. He wanted to get back to his Omega.

Once he was back in his apartment, after confirming you were still indeed asleep, he went to work grumbling the whole time to himself about his omega like behavior, putting the items he bought away, the conditioner being slipped inconspicuously in the shower for later use if you wanted. He made quick work of cleaning up the small room of his apartment, even stopping to pick up his clothes and put them in the dirty hamper, along with yours that were discarded on the floor. He felt so restless, anxiously glancing over at the bag with the blanket in it every few minutes before he finally gave up and just spread the blanket across your lap not bothering to scent it. You would ask him if you wanted him to.

Finally, he collapsed onto his bed, peeling his hoodie off and balling it up to use it as a makeshift pillow. He probably should have grabbed a second one while he was out, but he didn’t think about it. He let his mind roam, tucking his arms behind his head as he stared at the ceiling breathing in your scent, a smirk coming to his lips as he relaxed from the smell. He didn’t need the help of some perky beta, not when he knew he could have you.

#bnha omegaverse #alpha dabi #omega reader #bnha #mha #mha omegaverse #dabi is touya #dabi is a todoroki #dabi #dabi x y/n #dabi x female reader #dabi x you #dabi x reader #crispy

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