She Killed The Mommy Bug In Front Of Its Babies As A Warning….

~source Pinterest~

Me and my big brother<3333

Orientation. This is it: your first college tour, your chance to discover if this campus is where you belong. For the first time, Mom isn't hovering nearby; she only agreed because your big brother goes here and swore to keep an eye on you. Your fingers tighten around your backpack straps as you tilt your head back, taking in the imposing brick frat house where he's waiting.

Big bro greets you at the door with a grin and a quick, strong hug. "Hey, kiddo! You made it. How’s my little sis holding up?"

"Tired," you admit, forcing a smile. "It’s a lot, you know? Being here."

He slings an arm around your shoulders, guiding you inside. "You’ll get used to it. Oh, and we're hosting a party here tonight. You're going to love it — trust me."

"A party?" Your voice wavers. Crowds aren’t your thing. Back home, you’re the shy one, more comfortable with books than booze. “I don’t know. I won’t know anyone.”

"Don’t sweat it. I’ll be right there with you. It’s the perfect way to dip your toes into college life," he says, his tone reassuring but firm. You nod, trusting him like always. He’s your big brother, after all — your protector.

———

Hours later, you’re in the thick of it. The frat house is a chaotic swirl of noise and bodies. Music thumps through the walls, a bassline that rattles your bones. The air is heavy with the sour tang of spilt beer, the musk of sweat, and a cloying hint of cheap perfume. People dance in tight clusters, some grinding shamelessly, while others shout over red cups or lock lips in shadowy corners. You hover near your brother, clutching a soda that’s gone flat, feeling like a deer in headlights.

"You okay?" he asks, leaning close so you can hear him over the din. His eyes scan you from head to toe, noticing how your fingers tremble.

"Yeah, just… nervous," you confess, biting your lip.

He smirks, grabbing a red cup from a nearby table. "Here, try this. It’s just punch — nothing crazy. It’ll loosen you up."

You hesitate, then take it. The first sip is sweet, fruity, with a subtle burn that warms your throat. It’s not bad. You drink more, and your brother keeps the refills coming. "Have fun, sis," he says, pressing another cup into your hand. "You’re too tense."

One drink becomes two, then three, then five. The room tilts, and your laughter bubbles up too loud, too sloppy. You sway on your feet, gripping your big brother's arm to stay upright. The lights blur into halos, and your tongue feels thick when you try to speak.

“Bro I… I think I’m drunk,” you slur, giggling as you stumble into him.

He steadies you, his hands firm on your waist. "Whoa, lightweight. You’re wasted. Come on, let’s get you sobered up." He turns to a group of his buddies nearby, all frat guys with cocky grins. "Hey, I’m taking her upstairs to chill. She’s had too much."

They laugh, one of them clapping him on the shoulder. "Good luck, man. Don’t let her throw up on you."

Your brother rolls his eyes, guiding you toward the stairs. You lean into him, trusting his strength, his warmth. He’s taking care of you, like always. The steps are a blur, and then you’re in a dimly lit bedroom. A single lamp flickers in the corner, casting long shadows over an unmade bed with rumpled sheets. He eases you onto the mattress, and you flop back, the ceiling spinning above you.

"Feel any better?" he asks, sitting beside you. His voice is different somehow, you barely recognize it.

“Kinda, just a little overwhelmed,” you mumble, closing your eyes. The bed dips as he shifts closer, and then you feel it — his hand pressed against your thigh.

"You know all those guys down there are dying to talk to you?" his fingers inching higher as he speaks. "You just need something to help you calm down."

Your eyes snap open, confusion cutting through the fog. "Bro? What’re you—"

"Shh," he soothes, leaning over you. His breath brushes your cheek. “Just relax, sis. No one’s gonna know. I'm just warming you up.”

His lips crash against yours, hard and hungry. You freeze, your brain screaming that this is wrong — he’s your brother. You push at his chest, but your arms are weak, heavy from the alcohol, and he doesn’t budge. “Bro, stop,” you whisper, voice shaking.

"Hush," he says, kissing your neck, his stubble scraping your skin. "Quiet, or someone might hear." His hands roam, unbuttoning your shirt, exposing your bra. You squirm, but he's just so much bigger than you. There's not much you can do other than take it.

"See? You want this," he teases, sliding a hand under your skirt. His fingers find you through your panties, and you’re mortified to realize you’re wet. "Now stop being so dramatic."

“No, I—” you start, but he cuts you off with another kiss, deeper this time, his tongue invading your mouth. He tugs your panties aside, stroking you until you’re gasping, your protests dissolving into moans. It’s wrong, so wrong, but the alcohol blurs the edges, and his touch feels too good to fight.

He pulls back just long enough to remove his clothes, then the rest of yours, leaving you bare beneath him. "Gonna fuck you now, little sis," he laughs, unbuckling his jeans. “Consider it part of your orientation.”

You should scream, run, do something, but you don’t. You can’t. When he pushes into you, it’s overwhelming — stretching you, filling you, a sharp ache melting into pleasure. You cry out, and he clamps a hand over your mouth. "I said quiet!" he hisses, thrusting slow and deep. "Don’t want anyone walking in on you getting fucked by your big bro, do you?"

The rhythm builds, his hips snapping against yours, and slowly you lose yourself in it. The slick friction, the filthy thrill of his words. "See, isn't it better when you just relax" he groans, gripping your hips.

Suddenly, the door creaks open. A guy stumbles in — tipsy, bumbling. “Hey, I was — oh, nice!” the guy stares, eyes wide as he takes in the scene: you sprawled out on the bed, getting pinned down and pounded.

"Get the fuck out," your brother snaps, not missing a beat. "This slut’s mine."

The guy blinks, shocked. “Alright man, calm down...”

"I said out!" he roars, and the guy scrambles back, the door slamming shut. His words echo in your head — this slut’s mine — and it does something to you. A fresh wave of arousal floods you, your cunt clenching around him.

"You like that, don’t you?" he taunts, thrusting harder. "Me owning you like this?"

"Yes," you gasp, the confession spilling out. "It was fucking hot"

He starts pounding into you with new intensity. Your legs wrap around him, pulling him deeper, and the room fills with the sounds of skin on skin, your stifled moans, his ragged breaths. The pressure keeps building as you tremble beneath him.

"I-I think I'm gonna cum bro..." you whimper, clinging to him.

"Me too, sis." he grunts, driving into you one last time. Your body arches, a scream caught in your throat as he covers your mouth with his fist. He follows, spilling inside you with a low, guttural moan, his weight collapsing onto you.

He rolls off, pulling you against his chest. You’re sticky, sore, and reeling, but his arms feel safe, even now.

"What did we do?" you whisper, shame creeping in alongside the afterglow.

"I told you sis, orientation," he says, kissing your forehead. "Our secret. No one needs to know.”

𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

summary: there's nothing quite like being pampered by your partner after coming home from a fight... at least in childe's eyes

pairing: childe x gn! reader

warnings: fluff, a smidge angsty towards the end, mentions of fighting/ wounds; just a scene i had to exorcise from my brain since i'm ridiculously down bad; this is either a modern au or a 'teyvat has blow-dryers now' au, pick whichever one you fancy

genshin masterlist

“Watch it,” you threatened, though your voice lacked any sort of real bite. How could you be truly mad when Childe was grinning up at you, all boyish and playful, a strand of his wet bangs stubbornly falling back into his ocean-hued eyes?

“I wouldn’t have to if you just joined me,” the ginger hummed with no remorse, wet fingers dancing along the hem of your already soaked shirt, itching the creep under it. No doubt, he had already thought about just pulling you into the bathtub with him. “Or you could just take off your clothes if you’re so worried about them getting wet.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s the only reason you’re proposing that, huh?” You cocked your eyebrow at him, gently sweeping his hair back again. Even after you shampooed and conditioned it, it was as unruly and wilful as the guy it was attached to. “No ulterior motives whatsoever, I presume.”

“No ulterior motives whatsoever,” Childe echoed, though his voice carried the same mischief as it did right before he splashed the first wave of water over you. “I’m just looking out for you, darling.”

“The only thing you’re looking out for are your best interests,” you snorted, grabbing the body wash and sponge, motioning for him to turn around. “Now sit still, you literal child. I don’t want to accidentally reopen the wounds I spent so long dressing.”

“You got it,” the ginger laughed, clearly not as concerned with the deep scratches littering his back. Though you really didn’t want to meet whatever had caused them, Childe had excitedly told you all about his scuffles as he came home, still high on adrenaline as you ushered him into the bathroom and peeling off his many layers of clothing.

You shook your head, dispelling the thoughts that started clouding your mind. It was a conversation you have had plenty of times before. Instead you concentrated on the way his lithe muscles flexed and relaxed under your touch, his skin as always pleasantly warm and smooth despite the faded scars littering it. You knew the origins of most, having spent many nights tracing them as you listened to the stories behind them. Sure, some were from thrilling battles, but there were also smaller, odd ones like the one where Teucer accidentally nicked him as he taught his younger brother how to prepare a fish they caught together.

When you were certain your boyfriend was all clean again, you got some fluffy towels as he clambered out of the tub, purposefully not meeting his smug expression as he caught you eyeing the water droplets running down the dibs of his abs. You were also sure there was no need for his arms to flex as much as they did as he towelled his hair dry, leaving the white fabric to rest around his neck. 

Though there was a shirt set out next to his sweatpants, he forewent it completely and you sighed as you followed him out of the bathroom with the blow-dryer in hand. Idly, Childe sauntered over to the bed, sitting down with his back to the frame waiting for you to take your place behind him like you always did.

Gingerly, you rested your legs over his shoulders, feeling his calloused palms wrap around them, his fingers tracing random shapes into your thighs and calves as his bare body radiated heat. Watching the stream of hot air tussle his fluffy strands, your thoughts couldn’t help but circle back to the bloodied wounds on his back. None of them were too deep this time, but…

There was a tap against your calf.

“What are you thinking about?” Of course, Childe would pick up on your dip in mood; he always could. He could probably also guess the direction your thoughts had turned, it wasn’t an uncommon point of discussion. “And you’d better not say it’s nothing.”

“I know I tell you all the time and you always tell me not to worry. And I do have more faith in you than anyone else, but can you be at least a little more careful?” In that moment you were glad your boyfriend was turned away from you, certain your voice would shake even more if you were to look into his eyes right now. 

Running your fingers through his soft hair, you busied yourself with parting the sections to resemble a somewhat orderly hairstyle in order to keep your hands from trembling. Still, Childe easily caught your wrists, sliding his fingers between yours as he twisted to face you.

“You really do worry too much. I’m fine, right? See, everything still attached and working,” Childe smiled, drumming his fingers across your knuckles.

“Yeah but what if something happens? Something that is outside of your control and you don’t—“ You cut yourself off, not daring to speak your worst fear into existence. It would make it seem so much realer. “Just… Ajax, if you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you, if the other side of the bed was cold—“

“Hey now, none of that,” Childe soothed, reaching up to smooth out the crease of your brows. “You’ll never have to go to sleep alone or wake up to an empty bed. I’ll always come back home to you, I promise. Nothing could keep me away from you.”

The heat of his kisses spread from your knuckles all the way up to your heart, warming you from the inside out as his words soothed your frayed nerves. The logical part of your brain knew he couldn’t actually prevent all bad turns of events from happening but you willed those thoughts away. 

As you curled up under the blanket with him that night, his arm draped securely over your waist to pull you close to him and into his safe embrace, you reminded yourself Ajax had never broken his promises before. So, as the moon bore witness to his vow sealed with more kisses, you decided to believe him.

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He stood in the doorway, his heart pounding in his chest, his hands trembling at his sides. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her legs crossed, her hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent, but there was something in them—something that made his stomach twist in knots, something that made him feel like he was teetering on the edge of a cliff.

“You’re nervous,” she said softly, a small smile playing on her lips. "You don’t have to be."

He swallowed hard, his throat dry. “I shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “This isn’t right.”

She tilted her head, studying him with those big, doe eyes. “Then why are you here?” she asked, her tone gentle, almost teasing. “You could have walked away.”

He couldn’t answer that. He didn’t answer that. Instead, he crossed the room in three quick strides, his hands reaching out to grip her shoulders. She gasped, her eyes widening in surprise, but she didn’t pull away. She just looked up at him, her breath quickening, her chest rising and falling with each rapid heartbeat.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, his voice strained, desperate. “Tell me to leave.”

But she didn’t. She just reached up, her fingers brushing against his cheek, her touch so soft, so tender, it made his chest ache. “I don’t want you to stop,” she murmured. “I’ve never wanted you to stop.”

Something inside him snapped. He wasn’t sure what it was—guilt, desire, something else entirely—but it was too much, too overwhelming. He grabbed her hips, his fingers digging into her skin as he yanked her closer. She let out a small yelp, but it quickly turned into a moan as he crushed his lips against hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth.

She tasted sweet, like the candy she’d been eating earlier, and it only made him hungrier. He kissed her harder, his hands roaming over her body, exploring every curve, every inch of her. She arched into him, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against her lips, his voice rough, almost broken. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

She didn’t say anything. She just pulled him closer, her legs wrapping around his waist as she kissed him back with the same desperation, the same hunger. He could feel her heart racing, feel the heat radiating from her body, and it drove him wild.

He broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he stared down at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen, her eyes dark with desire. She looked so innocent, so pure, and yet there was something so utterly forbidden about her, something that made his blood boil.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He couldn’t. He pushed her back onto the bed, his hands fumbling with the button on her jeans. She lifted her hips, helping him pull them down, and then she was lying there, completely exposed, completely vulnerable.

He stared at her for a moment, his breath catching in his throat. She was so small, so delicate, and yet there was something so inherently erotic about her, something that made him feel like he was on fire. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her inner thigh, and she shivered, her breath hitching.

“You’re wet,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl. “You’re so fucking wet for me.”

She whimpered, her hips bucking up towards him, and that was it. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He stripped off his own clothes, his hands trembling with anticipation, and then he was on top of her, his body pressing hers into the mattress.

She gasped as he entered her, her nails scraping down his back. He groaned, his head falling forward as he felt her tight warmth envelop him. He started to move, slowly at first, testing the waters, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more. He needed everything.

He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her skin as he thrust into her harder, faster. She moaned, her hands reaching up to grip his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. He could feel her clenching around him, feel the way her body trembled beneath him, and it only made him more desperate.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice breaking as he buried his face in her neck. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

She whimpered, her legs tightening around his waist as she rocked her hips against him. “Please,” she begged, her voice breathless. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He couldn’t. He gripped her sides, his fingers pressing into her skin as he yanked her hair, forcing her head back. She cried out, her body arching up towards him, and he could feel her starting to unravel. He could feel himself getting closer, too, but he didn’t want it to end. He wanted to stay like this forever, lost in her, consumed by her.

But he couldn’t hold on. He felt his body tensing, felt the fire in his gut building until it was too much. He let out a low groan, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside her, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

He collapsed on top of her, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his body trembling. She wrapped her arms around him, her fingers running through his hair as she held him close. He could feel her heart racing, feel the way her body was still trembling beneath him, and it made him feel sick.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice choked with guilt. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

She didn’t say anything. She just held him tighter, her lips pressing against his forehead. “It’s okay, little bro” she murmured, her voice soft, soothing. “It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t. He knew it wasn’t. He felt like a monster, like a pervert, like he’d just destroyed something sacred. He buried his face in her neck, his hands gripping her waist as he tried to steady his breathing, but it was no use. The guilt was too much, the shame too overwhelming.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I shouldn’t have touched you. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

She stroked his hair, her touch gentle, comforting. “You don’t have to apologize,” she murmured. “I wanted it. I wanted you.”

He shook his head, his eyes squeezing shut. “It’s not right,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re my sister. I’m disgusting.”

She didn’t respond. She just held him, her fingers tracing patterns on his back as she whispered soft, soothing words into his ear. He didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve her, but he couldn’t pull away. He needed her too much.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Please. Don’t leave me.”

She kissed his forehead, her lips soft, warm. “I won’t,” she promised. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He clung to her, his body trembling, his mind spinning. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to fix this, but for now, all he could do was hold on to her and pray that she wouldn’t let go.

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