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scary-grace · 1 day

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Enough to Go By (Chapter 8) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8

“I can’t believe this is happening,” the high school student at the front desk says for the millionth time. “He must be so scared.”

“That kid? No way. He’s probably killed half the League already.” One of the nurses scoffs. “He’ll be fine. The heroes will handle this and put an end to that mess before you know it.”

You’ve been hearing versions of this conversation for the last three days, and you were bored of them on day one. It’s an effort not to roll your eyes. “But he got kidnapped,” the high schooler says again. “He probably doesn’t even know what happened to his friends, if they’re okay –”

“The other students are okay,” you say. “I heard two of them are still unconscious, but they think they’ll be fine. Their lungs were just more sensitive to the gas than the others’ were.”

“Was it really mustard gas?” the high schooler asks, and you shake your head. “How do you know?”

“A friend of mine,” you say. You’re not talking about Tenko. “He’s helping the heroes gather intel. He says it’s more like Midnight’s sleeping gas, but with a cumulative exposure effect.”

“The news said that kid was in high school,” a passing doctor says. “What are we doing wrong that kids in high school are turning to villainy?”

“It’s a problem with the villain, not with us.”

You can’t hold in the derisive sound you make, and all three of them turn to you. “What is it?” the doctor asks. “You don’t agree?”

“I just think it’s weird for people who see what we see every day to act like every villain is just born bad,” you say. Your colleagues stare at you. “Some of our patients feel trapped. A lot more of them feel helpless, or hopeless. Most of them have had hard lives, and no one’s helped them or saved them. If they feel invisible in their suffering, it’s not hard to imagine why some of those people lash out. Not even to hurt others. Just to be seen.”

You know what it’s like to feel hopeless, to feel invisible. To feel angry and know that your anger doesn’t matter, because you don’t matter in the first place. You turned that feeling inward, but most people aim it out. “People don’t become villains because they’re happy with their lives, or who they are. The way the world works makes a lot of people unhappy.”

“Young people – present company excepted – want everything handed to them,” the doctor says. He gestures at you and the high schooler. “If we had more people like the two of you, it would be a different story. You know how to work hard.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” you say. You’re not making your point well. You try again. “The villains who currently exist are the heroes’ job. It’s our job as a society to stop new villains from arising. The only way to do that is to make things better for everybody.”

“Of course,” the nurse says tiredly. She’s probably been working at the clinic longer than you and the doctor combined, and longer than the high schooler’s been alive. “When you figure that one out, honey, let me know.”

You’d love to. Really. Lately the difference between what you feel and what you think has been growing, so fast that it’s consuming every thought in its wake. Kazuo might be right from a legal standpoint that not stopping something isn’t the same thing as aiding and abetting it, but that doesn’t change how it feels. The attack on the training camp succeeded. The psychopathic student was kidnapped. Students were hurt. Pro heroes were hurt. One hero is missing. Moonfish, Mustard, and Muscular were all captured. And you knew it was happening ahead of time.

This time, you weren’t powerless to stop Tenko’s plans. You could have contacted UA and warned them that the location of their summer training camp had been compromised, that villains were planning an attack. You could have done it without endangering Tenko – he wouldn’t have even been there, and with Kurogiri’s protocol of warping everyone to and from the hideout, none of the others could have revealed his location if they were captured. You could have stopped this. Part of you wishes you had.

And part of you can’t stop picturing the look on Tenko’s face if he found out you betrayed his trust. The hurt you’d see there in the moments before he sealed it away. He’d probably kill you, and you’d feel so guilty that you’d probably want him to – but it’s not the fear of death that keeps you quiet. It’s the fear of losing him again, by your own fault this time. So you’ll take the guilt over the attack on UA’s training camp, the kidnapped student, the missing hero. You’d rather feel sick over that than hollowed out by losing your best friend.

You’re on the night shift, but it’s slow tonight, and when the high schooler turns on the TV in the waiting room, you don’t stop her. UA is having a press conference, with the principal and the two teachers who were there at the training camp apologizing for allowing the students to be put at risk again. You shouldn’t feel guilty, but you do, and you almost ask the high schooler to turn it off – but then the hero whose student was kidnapped starts defending said student, and you get annoyed. “That’s not what he’s like?” You mimic the hero’s flat, almost-affectless voice, then revert to your own. “Bullshit. That’s exactly what he’s like.”

“Huh?” The high schooler looks at you, surprised – or maybe offended. “That’s his teacher. He knows him better than you do. You’ve never met him.”

“I’ve met dozens of him. I know what they’re like.” You think of your siblings, the twins, the triplets. You think of the people who made your life hell until you made stronger friends. “You know who knows that kid better than his teacher? Everybody that kid has ever picked on. They only show who they really are to people who can’t hit them back.”

The high schooler is staring now. “I’ve never heard you say that much about anything before.”

You step out from behind the desk and head to the lobby for a little cleaning. “I only get one outburst per month. You can tune in next time.” In general, you’re not reactive – growing up, you weren’t allowed to react to anything – but ever since you found Tenko, you’ve found it harder and harder to hold in your frustration with the way things are. Your viewpoint doesn’t align with the League of Villains or with Stain, because you don’t think that dismantling the heroic system would automatically create a better world, but lately you can’t shut up about the things that are wrong.

Employment and housing discrimination against quirkless people and heteromorphs, and the total lack of anti-discrimination laws. The constant threat of violence, triggered so often by heroes pursuing nonviolent criminals, in situations where violence shouldn’t be necessary. The disinterest most ordinary people show in helping anyone, changing anything, because they expect heroes to do it for them. Things people who have power never see or think about. Things you’ve been living with since you were a child.

Seeing the heroic system come tumbling down won’t fix any of that. All it will do is put the privileged on the same level as you are, force them to play by the same rules you’ve had to follow. And some part of you thinks that would be a nice thing to see. After all, you’ve been playing this game your whole life. For once, you’d like to have the advantage.

The UA press conference is just concluding when you feel the first vibration, a low deep hum traveling through the air. A chill goes down your spine, and you look up from cleaning the air conditioning filter in the lobby to the high schooler behind the desk, only to find her already looking at you. The TV switches to breaking news with a blast of trumpets, announcing that All Might and various heroes have teamed up to rescue Bakugou of Class 1-A, but even as they’re announcing the good news, another vibration travels through the air. A moment later, a similar vibration travels through the ground. Somewhere in the distance, you hear a crash – an enormously loud sound, coming from just far enough away to avoid rupturing your eardrums. Not far enough to avoid rupturing anything else.

“Get down!” you shout, diving for cover, and the high schooler drops behind the counter just in time for the windows to blow apart, spraying glass across the lobby.

Now you can hear explosions. Or you could, if your ears weren’t ringing. When you look out the shattered windows, you see a sky that should be cloudy and dark blue turning unearthly purple and orange. As the ringing in your ears dies down, you hear screams, sirens, the whirring of helicopter blades. Something terrible is happening.

You struggle to your knees, then your feet, doing your best to avoid the broken glass. “Are you okay?” you shout to the high schooler. You hear a whimper from behind the desk, and a split second later, the phone starts to ring. “Can you grab that?”

No answer. You stumble through the glass, kicking piles of it aside, and find the high schooler crouched behind the desk, shaking. She doesn’t look hurt. Shell-shocked, sure, but not hurt. You aren’t seeing blood. You grab the phone. “Yokohama Free Clinic South. How can I help you?”

“This is Yokohama PD. Your building has been designated as an evacuation site. Please prepare to receive evacuees from Kamino Ward.”

“Kamino Ward?” You fumble the clinic’s disaster preparedness binder out of the desk and start flipping frantically through it. “Our windows are gone from the shockwave that just came through. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Is the building still standing?” The officer on the other end doesn’t wait for confirmation. “The first evacuees should be arriving within minutes. Once the hospitals are full, the remaining casualties will be directed to you.”

“What? We’re an urgent care, not a mass casualty –” The line goes dead and you stare at it in horror. The rest of the night shift, doctors and nurses and techs, are just emerging from the back of the clinic. You turn to look at them and try to convey the information as quickly and efficiently as possible. “Evacuees from Kamino Ward are coming here. Once the hospitals are full, the casualties will be coming here, too.”

“What’s happening in Kamino Ward?”

“Look.” The high schooler’s voice is almost as shaky as her hand as she points to the TV. You do as she says and everything gets worse in a heartbeat.

Kamino Ward is gone. It’s a smoking crater, ringed by the ruins of buildings, and in the center of it all stand a collection of small figures. Half your thoughts come to a stop on the buildings, on how many people must be trapped in the wreckage. The rest are with the group of people in the crater. Wherever the news feed is coming from, whoever’s filming zooms in until you can see their faces. All Might’s there. So is Tenko’s master. And so is Tenko, him and the rest of the League, everyone who wasn’t captured after the attack on the training camp – alongside the student they kidnapped.

LIVE: All Might fights unknown villain, the scroll at the bottom of the screen says. Kamino Ward leveled. Rescue efforts underway.

Two of your friends live in Kamino Ward. Your mind floods with emotion, the leaks in your defense mechanisms coming from a dozen different sources. Worry for your friends, panic about the evacuees who are about to descend on your clinic and the casualties that are sure to follow, terror that the fight will break from Kamino Ward and come to you. Fear for Tenko, who’s right there in the middle of it all. Shame over the fact that when you realized he was there, your fear for him drowned everything else in a split second.

But you don’t have time for worry or panic or shame or fear, because you can hear voices in the street. People are coming here, looking for shelter, and there’s glass all over the floor of the lobby. “We need to clean this up,” you call out to the others, even as you run for a broom. “We have to hurry.”

Somebody yanks the broom out of your hands and passes it to one of the CNAs. The doctor forces the disaster preparedness binder into your hands instead, only for one of the older nurses to snatch it away. “Put her on triage. We need to keep them calm and we need to move fast.”

You’re good at those two things when the lobby is full. Not when an absurd number of people are being directed your way. You pull the blinds over the glassless windows, hoping it’ll stop people from seeing them as entry points to the building, and prop open the door, stationing yourself just inside it. When you see the crowd coming down the street, led by an overwhelmed-looking police officer and two minor heroes from the area, you take a deep breath and do everything you can to clear your mind.

“Get a list of who’s here,” the nurse who took the disaster preparedness binder hisses in your ear. “Uninjured to the right and left, injured to the front.”

“Got it,” you say. Someone drops a pile of nametags and a permanent marker into your hands. That’ll work. One of the heroes has jogged ahead to meet you, and you square up. “Get everybody in a line. Keep families together. We’ll take care of the rest. How many do you have?”

“A hundred, plus or minus twenty. Some fell behind.”

And those are probably the injured ones. “Go back and pick them up,” you say. “We’ll handle this.”

The hero conveys your instructions to the others, and a line begins to form. You address the first person in line – a grey-haired man, carrying what looks like either a grandchild or a random kid. “Family name, first initial,” you say. Iwamura K, granddaughter Iwamura T. “Injuries?”

None. You peel off the stickers, apply them to each evacuee’s arm, then herd them inside. “Next?”

Your handwriting gets worse and worse with every nametag, but you’re moving fast. You screw up the system you were supposed to implement almost immediately. Uninjured evacuees go to the right side of the lobby. Injured ones go to the left, where the other nurses are waiting to triage them more effectively. All the while the air vibrates with distant blows and you vibrate with it, your mind teetering between focusing on the tasks at hand and worrying about your friends, about Tenko. You’re scared that one of your friends will come through the door on a stretcher. You’re scared that Tenko won’t come back at all.

The phone rings somewhere behind you while you’ve still got dozens of people in line, and a moment later, the high schooler shouts to you. “The teaching hospital’s full and the route to Yokohama General is cut off. They’re directing casualties here.”

Fuck. When you find out who cut off the route to the city’s biggest, most modern hospital, you’re going to break your foot off in their ass. That goes double if the guilty party is Tenko’s master. You start hustling people into the building at top speed, trying to think of which entrance will be best to direct the ambulances to. The rear entrance, probably. Somebody else will have to take care of that. You’ve still got people coming through the door.

The closer to the back of the line you get, the more damage the evacuees are working with. The last few are covered with dust, their clothes torn, their bodies already bruising. You try to ask them what happened, but your words are drowned out by a collective gasp, followed by dead silence from inside the building. The TV is still going, the words tinny and distant, but you hear the first person who speaks up loud and clear. It’s a kid. “Mama, what’s wrong with All Might?”

The noise comes back up immediately, leaving you with no idea what’s happening, no idea if All Might’s been defeated or killed, no idea whether the fight’s shifting, heading this way. You hear ambulance sirens wailing, getting louder with every passing second, and someone yanks your arm. You turn to find one of the medical assistants. “Go to the back. They want you helping with the ambulances.”

You don’t want you helping with the ambulances. You’re good under pressure, but not that kind of pressure. Not the kind where someone will die if you screw it up. You try to reason with yourself as you weave through the lobby and head down the hall, aiming for the back doors. You’re not running point on any of these cases. Your job is to assist the doctors and the nurse-practitioners. They’ll tell you what to do. You just have to do it. It’ll be fine. You think that, and keep thinking it, right up until you put on your mask and gloves and turn around to find yourself facing a patient whose legs have been crushed below the knee.

It’s awful. There’s blood and sinew and tissue everywhere, and sharp fragments of bone emanating from the exposed kneecap. Bitter saliva floods your mouth and your stomach turns, threatening to upend itself, but you grew up with siblings who could make you vomit on their command. You learned to resist them, and this – you clench your jaw and step forward. “How can I help?”

“Pinch off the femoral artery on the left side.” The doctor’s face is pale. The patient is unconscious, must be unconscious, because otherwise you can’t imagine the doctor saying what he says next. “We’re in hell.”

You’re not given to dramatic statements, but as the time wears on, you start to agree with him. You lose track of which patients you’re seeing. It’s all you can do to remember to switch gloves between patients. Your scrubs get sprayed with blood, but you can’t change them. There’s not time. The site commander for whatever’s happening in Kamino Ward sent your clinic twelve patients who should have gone to Yokohama General. You can’t save them. Your job is to keep them alive long enough to transport them to the people who can.

It’s a task you fail once, twice, three times, five times. One of the nurses, someone who worked somewhere else before coming here, tells you that the patients wouldn’t have made it anyway, but it doesn’t help. Even with the EMTs of the ambulances staying to lend a hand, there aren’t enough hands, not enough eyes to spot the signs of someone crashing and not enough mouths to call out a warning. You lose five, stabilize seven. If this goes on much longer, you might lose them all.

News of what’s happening in Kamino Ward trickles back slowly. All Might’s deflated, or decrepit. Skeletal. Disfigured. All Might’s getting an assist from the Number Two hero – Hiro will be thrilled. All Might’s winning. All Might’s won, but the League of Villains has escaped. All of them except their backer – All For One.

All For One. It’s not a villain name you’ve heard before, but you’re pretty sure that’s Tenko’s master. Whoever he is, wherever he came from, he was strong enough to hurt All Might, to nearly kill All Might. If he could do that, what the hell does he need Tenko for? What’s going to happen to Tenko with his backer gone? Where is the League going to go? You’re pretty sure they can’t go back to their hideout – it was where they were planning to take the captured student, and if they and the student wound up in Kamino Ward, something went wrong. Where’s Tenko now?

That’s not your problem right now. Your problem is your patients, and whether or not any of them will still be alive by the time the route to Yokohama General reopens. You throw yourself back into work. Back into hell.

Relief eventually arrives in the form of basically every off-duty staff member – all of them who don’t live in Kamino, that is. You stay in the mix, not wanting to be the first one to call for help. You’re not that tired, anyway. You just got on shift at six. You have a long way to go before –

“It’s seven am. Get out,” your supervisor says, and you stare blankly at her. Seven am? That can’t be right. It was midnight two seconds ago. “This patient’s stable, and the route to Yokohama General is finally open. Transfer them and go home. With all the repairs we’ll have to make, we can’t afford to pay you overtime.”

Transfer, then home. You transfer the patient, who hasn’t been conscious once since they arrived in the clinic with a skull fracture wide enough to see their brain through, to the waiting EMTs, and then you go looking for a change of clothes. There isn’t one. You’ll be wearing this home. You wade through another crowd of people to clock out, then step out onto the street. The trains probably aren’t working, but that’s fine. It’s not that far. You can walk.

The sky is still purple and orange. Clouds of smoke are billowing up from whatever happened in Kamino Ward, and you can smell it, along with gasoline and ozone and who knows how many other acrid stenches. You check your phone as you walk and find frantic messages from your friends, everyone trying to confirm that everyone else is alive. You tap out a message confirming that you were at work and you’re fine. Then you put your phone away and trudge the rest of the way home.

After the noise of the clinic, unabated for hours upon hours, your apartment building is weirdly quiet. At this time of day people should be up, getting ready for work, getting their kids ready for school, but instead it feels like time’s stopped. Maybe they left. Maybe they’re in an evacuation shelter somewhere. You don’t know. You unlock the door to your apartment and step inside – and freeze.

Your apartment should be empty. It isn’t. Your apartment is full of people, and you’ve met them all at least once before – Spinner, Dabi, Magne, Compress, Twice, Toga. Kurogiri. Tenko. No, Tomura. They’re all staring at you, just like you’re staring at them.

Toga’s the first one to speak. “So that’s what you look like,” she says, smiling. “I knew you were cute!”

“Don’t scream,” Tomura says. You shut your mouth and shake your head. He looks you up and down, frowning. “Whose blood is that?”

“At work. I was at work. We got some of the casualties from – from Kamino –” You’re stammering. You’re making approximately zero sense. There’s only one question that matters. “What are you doing here?”

Nobody answers you. Dabi’s mouth contorts into a sneer. “No wonder you wouldn’t show your face before. You’re a fucking civilian.”

“Yeah, she’s a civilian. That’s why her place is safe to stay at,” Tomura snaps at him. He turns back to you, the frown still present behind the hand. “Is all that blood somebody else’s?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You don’t feel fine. You feel numb, but your heart is racing so fast that you’re worried you might faint. “Did anybody see you? Or hear you?”

“Kurogiri delivered us right to your living room,” Compress says. “We’ve been quiet. Most of us.”

He’s aiming a dirty look at Magne, who glares back. “It hurts,” she snaps. “If somebody stabbed you in the chest –”

Your stomach lurches. “Stabbed?”

“I hit my face on that giant hero’s face. Do you hear me complaining?”

“You were stabbed?” You step around Tomura and cross the room to where Magne’s sprawled in one of your armchairs. “How long ago? Is it still bleeding?”

“Not with a knife,” Magne says. With what, then? “Boss’s daddy forcibly activated my quirk with his hideous little tentacles.”

There’s nothing about that sentence that you don’t hate. “The same thing happened to Kurogiri,” Spinner adds. He’s leaning against the wall. Grimacing. “A hero messed with him first, though.”

The answer to the question of why they’re here finally clicks in your overworked, exhausted brain. You’re the team medic, and they’ve all been hurt. They need you to do the same thing you’ve been doing all night, when all you want to do is peel off your bloody clothes and go to sleep. Instead, you need to triage. “Okay, who took an injury that knocked them out?”

Hands go up – Magne, Dabi, Kurogiri. Compress might have a facial fracture, based on the way his mask is askew. Spinner’s ribs hurt, but he never lost consciousness, and he’s not bleeding from anywhere. Twice, Toga, and Tomura are all beaten up but otherwise fine. You point them in the direction of the freezer so they can put together some ice packs, then turn your attention to the group who passed out.

Of the three of them, Dabi was unconscious the longest, and his injury was a head injury. He threw up when he regained consciousness, although thankfully not on your floor or your couch. He reports a splitting headache, and when you shine the penlight from your keychain in his eyes, you see that one of his pupils isn’t reacting normally to the light. That’s not a good sign. “Do you remember what happened immediately before the blow to the head?”

“Why do you want to know? So you can make your story sound better for the cops?”

“No, I’m testing your memory. It’s an indicator for the severity of the concussion. Track my finger with your eyes.” You observe his eye movements. It could go either way. “What happened before you were struck?”

“The damn kid turned us down. Who does he think he is?” Dabi scoffs. “Shigaraki told Compress to turn him loose, like a fucking moron, and then the fucking heroes broke through the wall. One of them kicked me and that’s all I remember.”

“Kicked you in the head?”

“That’s right.” Dabi groans. “Fuck off with that light in my face.”

You put the penlight away and think through your options. “I’m going to give you some medicine. Over-the-counter NSAIDs –”

“What?”

“Nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs,” Tomura says. You glance at him, surprised, and find him smiling slightly from behind the hand. “Acetaminophen or ibuprofen. They’re over the counter. You can get them without a prescription.”

“I know what over the counter means,” Dabi snaps. “I didn’t ask you. I asked the medic. Do you have some?”

“Yeah. Acetaminophen’s best for this. The bottles are opened, but I’m going to go get them – Twice, will you come with me and watch me get them?” you ask. Twice looks startled. “You can watch me and tell Dabi that I’m not tampering with the pills at all.”

“I’m not that fucking paranoid,” Dabi says. But he doesn’t tell Twice not to follow you.

You’ve been wondering if Twice remembers you. So far it seems like he doesn’t, but something jogs his memory as you come back with the bottles. “I knew I’d seen you before,” he announces loudly, and you shush him alongside Compress, Toga, and Tomura. “You stitched up my mask!”

“Did the stitches hold okay?” you ask. “I know it was a little rushed.”

“Barely,” Twice says. Then: “They were great! Lasted until Giran hooked me up with a new one.”

“You’ve met her before?” Compress asks, suspicious.

“Sure thing. If she’d showed her face, I could have backed up the boss and said she was all right!” Twice sounds cheerful. He slaps you on the back and you nearly spill acetaminophen tablets all over the floor. “Nicest nurse I ever had. No screaming, no calling the cops. Just stitched my mask and gave me the good drugs and sent me on my way!”

“He got the good drugs?” Tomura says, incredulous. “Why didn’t I get those?”

“You behaved. Sort of.” You need to get into the kitchen, but Toga and Tomura are both there, holding bags of ice to their various scrapes and bruises. “Can one of you fill a glass of water? The cabinet to the right.”

Tomura does it – with warm sink water – and hands it off. You head back to Dabi, drop a double dose of acetaminophen into his hand, and order him to drink the whole glass of water with it. You’ll hit him with the same dose in six hours, if they’re still here in six hours. It won’t do anything good for his liver, but if he’s in too much pain to rest and starts trying to do things, his liver will be the least of his worries. You order him to hold still, eyes closed, and focus on Magne and Kurogiri.

Your friends got you a stethoscope as a gag gift a while back, but the stethoscope is real, and you know how to use it. You listen for any irregularities in Magne’s breathing and heartbeat, then tell her to go into the bathroom and check for bruising on her torso – at which point she whips off her shirt. “Check for yourself.”

“Agh, no!” Spinner twists the other way, but not before you see his scales flushing. “Don’t do that!”

“Or at least give some warning,” Twice says. Then he gives a thumbs-up. “Looking good!”

“Put those away. There are children here,” Compress says.

“It’s okay.” Toga is staring avidly. “I don’t mind.”

“You should. We’re the League of Villains, not the League of Perverts.” Spinner is still facing away. “Are you done yet?”

“Are you done yet?” Magne asks you. You’ve been studying her torso and the series of bruises on it. “Well?”

“Nothing that suggests internal bleeding. You’re good to go.”

She pulls her shirt back on. “I hope you all enjoyed that. I won’t be doing it again.”

“Don’t,” Spinner says. “Please.”

You commandeer one of the ice bags Toga made and hand it to Magne, then turn your attention to Kurogiri. Kurogiri’s going to present a problem, and both of you know it. “What do you have in the way of internal organs?” you ask. “Heart, lungs, digestive tract –”

“Everything, but it will not be possible to listen to. This is in the way.”

“He can take it off,” Tomura says. “Kurogiri. Go somewhere else and show her.”

You’d say the bathroom, but Kurogiri’s a lot taller than you are. There wouldn’t be room. You go to your bedroom instead, leaving the door slightly cracked so you can listen to what’s happening in the living room and intervene if it gets too wild. Kurogiri shrugs out of his waistcoat, followed by his shirt, leaving nothing but a pair of pants and a swirling cloud of mist. Then, as you watch, the mist begins to peel back, revealing a body underneath it.

It’s pretty clearly a human body. It looks like it’s been stitched together out of multiple other bodies, but all the requisite parts of a human body appear to be present. So is the metal neckpiece of Kurogiri’s costume. Above it, though, there’s a face. It’s a young face. Younger than you, younger than Tomura, and it looks back at you with enormous yellow eyes. Its mouth moves, and the strange doubled voice issues from it. “Hurry up. I can’t do this for long.”

You conduct a quick physical exam. Unlike Magne, Kurogiri has actual puncture wounds. One actual puncture wound in his ribcage, and when you listen to his breathing, there’s a whistle on that side that shouldn’t be there. “You’ve got a punctured lung,” you say. “It might repair on its own. If there’s anyone else who can –”

“The doctor will perform the necessary maintenance,” Kurogiri says. That means zip to you, except that the doctor’s apparently willing to treat everybody except Tomura. “Is Shigaraki Tomura safe in your company?”

You look up into that young face, see the shadow of human eyes within the yellow ones. “He is.”

“Tell him where I have gone, and that I will return shortly.” Kurogiri vanishes.

You go back out to the living room and deliver the message, then check in with Compress and Spinner about their injuries. Compress won’t let you look under his mask, but does a self-exam under your direction and somewhat confirms your diagnosis of a cheekbone fracture. He gets NSAIDs and an ice pack. Spinner has a rib out of place. You need to put it back in.

He’s not making it easy. “Stop tensing up,” you say. “Every time you do that while I’m trying to put your rib back, the likelihood of a muscle tear goes up. That’s a lot harder to fix than a dislocated rib.”

“It hurts. I’d like to see you try it!”

“I haven’t had the privilege.” The temper you swear you don’t have is doing its best to break out of captivity. “Okay, here’s the deal. I have some vodka in there. You’re going to drink that while I check on the others, and then we’ll handle your rib. Okay?”

“Sure,” Spinner says, surprised. “You lift the bottle down from the top of the refrigerator and hand it over. “Thanks.”

Twice has mostly bumps and bruises, as well as complaints about the fact that Spinner got alcohol but he didn’t. You shoo him off to share with Spinner, then check in with Toga. Toga’s really interested in your scrubs. “How many people’s blood is on there?” she asks eagerly. “You’re so lucky. All that blood everywhere – doesn’t it smell good?”

“It just smells like blood to me. But my sense of smell probably isn’t as good as yours.” You look Toga up and down. “Did you get hurt anywhere?”

“No.” Toga keeps studying you. “Can you get some blood for me? If everybody’s already bleeding –”

“Sorry,” you say, and she pouts. “I’d get caught. Plus, don’t you want those kids’ blood? Blood from some random patient of mine probably won’t help much.”

“No,” Toga agrees, “but it would taste good.”

“I’ll take your word for it. You’re good to go, also.” You watch as she skips off to join Spinner and Twice, then turn your attention to Tomura. You saved him for last on purpose, hoping you’d get a chance to talk to him, and now that you have one, you don’t know what to say. “Um –”

“Don’t.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.” The fact that you don’t know either is immaterial.

“It was probably going to be some kind of pep talk. In your evil shrink voice,” Tomura says, and your mouth twitches. He notices, and a moment later he’s mimicking you. “Tomura, this could be a lot worse. You could have gotten everybody captured instead of just Sensei. The kid you handpicked to join the League of Villains blew Father’s hand off your face, but at least you’ve got a face, right?”

The joke occurs to you, and you’re so tired and overwhelmed that it comes out of your mouth with zero edits. “That’s one more face than Sensei has.”

Tomura coughs. “What?”

“Also, you missed part of what I was going to say,” you say, seizing the momentum and running with it. “Well, what you were going to say. You were going to complain about All Might winning, and I was going to say that he didn’t really win, because he leveled Kamino Ward and I spent all night trying to keep the people in those buildings alive, and mostly failing –”

“Wait, what?”

“And then,” you say, wishing you hadn’t said a word about your job, “I was going to remind you that everybody saw All Might’s scarecrow form. So nobody’s going to want him to fuck them now.”

Tomura’s expression contorts to a degree that looks painful. “That’s – not – funny,” he grits out.

“I mean, when we talked about rendering All Might unfuckable, I thought it was just a pipe dream,” you say. Tomura’s shoulders are shaking now. You don’t know what else to do but keep going. “But this is proof. The sky’s the limit. Anything is possible. I mean, if you can set up a situation that takes All Might from fuckable to unfuckable in a split second, then you can do anything you want to do.”

Tomura is staring at you, speechless and twitching like he’s caught in an electric fence, and even though you think there’s a nonzero chance you’re going to get killed over this, you can’t resist. “How’s that for a pep talk?”

“It sucked,” Tomura says, and then he bursts out laughing.

You’re proud any time you can make him laugh, and this is no exception. At first he’s just laughing. Then his breathing starts to hitch, and you realize that the laughter’s tripped another circuit in his brain – one he probably doesn’t want the others to see. “What the hell are you two laughing about?” Dabi demands from the couch. “Let the rest of us in on it.”

“Yes,” Compress agrees, “we could use something to laugh at.”

“Inside joke. You wouldn’t understand.” You catch Tomura’s sleeve and tug him down the hallway, out of sight of the others. His laughter is sounding less and less like laughter with every passing second, and he’s clawing at his neck with one hand. You keep your voice quiet, trying above all not to drop into the conflict-resolution voice. “No. Tenko, don’t. That’s not going to make things better.”

“I really fucked up.” His voice, already raspy, cracks in a way that sounds painful. “Things were supposed to – I’m not ready. I haven’t learned. He was supposed to teach me. I can’t –”

Something tells you that right now’s not the time for a joke. You think Tenko might be crying. No, you know it, and he knows you know. “Don’t look.”

You remember that from forever ago. He never wanted you to see him cry. You turn your back, as much as it hurts you to do it, and as soon as you do, his arms come up around you. His hands are curled into fists, shielding you from his quirk, one balled up against your shoulder and the other balanced over your hipbone. Something thuds against the floor behind you and you glance to one side, a jolt running through you. There’s the hand he calls Father, discarded.

Tenko’s body shakes, strongly enough to rattle you both. He’s taller than you, but not so tall that he can’t duck down and press his face into the curve of your neck and shoulder to muffle himself. After a few seconds, it’s clear that it’s not enough. You feel his mouth meet your skin. A moment later, his teeth.

It stings, and you will yourself not to flinch. You remember the few times you actually saw Tenko cry instead as opposed to just hearing it when you were kids, remember seeing him shove his fist into his mouth to stay quiet, but both his hands are occupied holding you. You wonder if he even knows he’s biting you. Or how hard he’s biting you. His breath is hot against your skin. So are his tears, and you stand there, not flinching, letting your best friend take what he needs from you. He let you hug him the last time you saw each other, when you were upset over something as small as meeting his master. Over something this big, he can have this as long as he wants.

When you cry, your tears usually stop quickly. It’s a skill you developed on purpose. But Tenko’s take a while to trail off, and it’s a little while after that before his mouth lifts away from your skin. He doesn’t mention the bite, and neither do you. He keeps holding you close. “What were you doing tonight, again?”

“Forget about that,” you say. “It’s not important.”

“Say it again.” Tenko’s hand drifts from your hip halfway under your shirt, three fingers resting against your stomach and his index finger raised. “Please.”

You try to think. “Um, I said you had one more face than your master has –”

This time Tenko snorts. “After that.”

“I said you’d say All Might won, and I’d say he didn’t, because he leveled Kamino Ward,” you continue, “and I spent all night trying to save the people who were inside those buildings –”

“That’s it!” Tenko stiffens. One hand grabs your wrist and pulls you around to face him, and you see wild excitement in his face. “You didn’t blame me for those people getting hurt. You didn’t blame my master. You blamed All Might. My plan – turning people against heroes – what you said about making them choose wrong – it worked!”

“It worked,” you say, bewildered. “Ten, I’m not exactly the common denominator here. Everybody else –”

“The ones who worship the ground heroes walk on – they were always a lost cause,” Tenko says. You won’t argue with that. People like your parents and siblings will never listen. They won’t even try. “It’s people this system hurts who will see what I’m doing. People like you. You –”

He breaks off, looking at you, grinning with tear tracks down his face. You remember this look, too. Except when you were five years old, you never saw it in the split second before he kissed you. His mouth fits against yours, messy and enthusiastic with blood on his lips, blood that could be his – or yours, depending on whether his bite broke the skin. Tenko pushes you back against the wall and keeps kissing you, only breaking away for air when he has to. You wrap your arms around him, since he can’t touch you safely, and try to deliver a reality check. “Tenko, I’ve known you forever. If I understand you –”

“Then I don’t need anybody else to,” Tenko says. “Everyone else can get behind us or get out of my way.”

He kisses you again, but before you can really get into it, Magne calls out from the living room. “Are you two done fucking yet? Spinner’s got the hiccups.”

Tenko’s face turns bright red. He scrambles to pick up the hand, and you head down the hall ahead of him. “If we were fucking, it would take a lot longer than that,” you say, and Magne lets out a low whistle. You turn to Spinner. “Sorry about the hiccups, but we can use those. Stand up, over here. And hold your arms out like this –”

Spinner does it, grimacing. You observe the timing of the hiccups for a few more minutes, then step in and apply the necessary force, popping the rib back into place. Spinner lets out a small yelp that would be more problematic if any of your neighbors were around, then lowers his arms. “Is it done?”

“It’s back in place. Feel better?”

“Yeah,” Spinner says. Then he hiccups. “Fuck it. No.”

“We can fix that, too,” you say. “Follow me.”

Tomura comes back while you’re feeding a spoonful of sugar to Spinner, instructing him to hold it under his tongue until it dissolves. He fixates on the two of you. “What are you doing?”

“Curing the hiccups.” You direct Spinner to sit down, then focus on Tomura. “What else do you need?”

“Food,” Toga says, to general assent. “Do you have food?”

“Not enough for this many people,” you say. “But we can order in.”

Five pizzas at nine in the morning isn’t the weirdest delivery order you’ve ever placed, and it’s also not the most expensive. You have a coupon, and the members of the League of Villains are surprisingly willing to pitch in – although Twice and Compress try to give you counterfeit at first. Tomura calls them on it, and they pay up in real money, after which Compress gives you a quick and unexpected lesson in how to spot counterfeit currency.

“Obviously, none of that holds if it’s a copy of Twice’s,” he says at the conclusion of the explanation, “but it’s much easier to tell with Twice’s currency. Observe –”

He drags a nail across one of the coins Twice gave you, at which point it collapses into sludge on your kitchen table. “That’s the problem with Twice’s stuff,” Toga says. “It doesn’t hold together long.”

“It looks great while it does,” Twice protests. Then: “I’m a failure!”

Toga and Magne both console him, which is weird to watch. Weirdly supportive. You didn’t think villains were supportive of each other – but why wouldn’t they be? Villains are people, just like anybody else. They have enemies. It makes sense that they’d have friends, too.

Kurogiri’s return from the doctor is poorly timed – it happens right as the pizzas arrive, and it takes every ounce of people skills you possess to prevent the delivery driver from carrying the pizzas inside for you. Kurogiri goes immediately to check in with Tomura, while everyone else tears into the pizza like they’re starving. It’s all you can do to retrieve a piece or two for Tomura. You’ve sort of lost your appetite. The last time you remember having one was last night, before everything went to hell.

You come back to Tomura and Kurogiri in the kitchen. They’re strategizing, and Tomura takes the plate from you with one hand and pulls you into the conversation with the other. “This can’t be our base,” he says to Kurogiri. “It’s too much of a risk for all of us, her included.”

“What if it were to act as something of a way station?” Kurogiri suggests. “It will likely be some time before we can establish a base with some of the creature comforts we are used to. Perhaps if we were to come here for things like showers, or laundry –”

“I don’t want them alone with her.”

“I’m not here for most of the day,” you say. “I’m at work, or running errands, or with my friends. As long as you aren’t seen and you don’t run my water bill through the roof or eat all my food – or steal my stuff – it’s fine with me.”

“Having access to a place like this would improve morale,” Kurogiri continues. His eyes tilt towards Tomura. “It would also give you an excuse to visit that no one would question.”

“I don’t need an excuse to visit. I can do what I want,” Tomura says. It’s quiet for a second. “Fine. If you’re okay with it –”

“I’m okay with it.” Your phone buzzes and you check it, hoping it’s Sho or Hirono, but it’s neither – just work, telling you that you’re not on until tomorrow morning, instead of tonight like you were supposed to be. “How long do you think you’ll be staying this time?”

“Until dark,” Tomura says. “We have to lay low for a little while. Then we’ll move.”

“I would recommend getting some rest,” Kurogiri says. “After eating that.”

“I don’t need to rest.” Tomura picks up the pizza and takes a messy bite.

On your first date, such as it was, Tomura said that villains argue like kids do. Based on what happens after the pizza’s consumed, they fall asleep after they’ve eaten like kids do, too. They hold off sleep long enough to fight over sleeping positions, but none of them go after your bed, and when Tomura starts yawning, you take the empty plate out of his hands. “My room’s darker. It’ll be easier to sleep there.”

You feel yourself relax the instant you shut your bedroom door behind the two of you. The other villains might be friendly to you, but you only trust Tenko, and to a lesser extent, Kurogiri. Tenko, paradoxically, tenses up. “I don’t need a bed. I sleep standing up.”

“Standing up?” you repeat, baffled. “How?”

“So I don’t destroy it. Once I touch something with all five fingers, it’s gone.” Tenko looks at the bed, almost longingly. “And I don’t have gloves.”

“I’ve got some,” you say. Tenko looks at you, surprised. “I took yours with me when I left last time.”

They’re folded on your dresser. You bring them over, and Tenko pulls them on, a moment before he knocks you backwards onto the bed. You give him a few seconds, then put your forearm against his chest to push him back. “Whatever we’re doing, I’m not doing it in bloody clothes. Let me get changed.”

“Fine,” Tenko complains, and shifts slowly to one side to let you up. At least he doesn’t ask you if he can help.

If you were alone, you’d shower, but you don’t want to risk being that vulnerable with an apartment full of villains. You change into your regular pajamas, the kind you’d wear if you were sleeping by yourself instead of in the same bed as your best friend, who’s a guy, who’s into you. You’re pretty sure Tenko’s not going to try for sex tonight. Not with his level of experience. And not after the day and night he’s had.

When you step out of the bathroom, changed for bed, Tenko’s sitting cross-legged on your bed, pretty clearly lost in thought. The hand is resting on your nightstand. “Hey,” you say, and he looks up.

He looks you over slowly, color coming up in his cheeks with every second that ticks past. Your pajamas aren’t particularly revealing, so you’re not sure what he’s getting excited about – but then his eyes fasten onto something and his gaze sharpens. “What the hell is that?”

You look blankly at him. “On your neck. It’s –” Tenko realizes what it is in the same moment as you realize what he’s looking at. “Fuck. Why didn’t you say something?”

“You were trying to stay quiet. I wanted to help.” You take a step back as Tenko rises from the bed and comes closer. “It’s not a big deal. It just looks –”

Tenko’s fingers brush over it and you wince in spite of yourself. “It looks worse than it is.”

Tenko steps past you, headed for the bathroom. The light switches on, and a moment later you hear him rummaging through the cabinet above the sink. “You’re a nurse. You don’t have band-aids in here?”

“The first-aid kit’s under the sink,” you say. Then something occurs to you. “This isn’t a first-aid thing. It’s just a bruise.”

“You’re not looking at it. I am.” Tenko comes back and drops the first-aid kit on the bed next to you. When you reach for it, he shoves your hand away. You reach for it a second time with the same result. “Stop. I did it, so I’m fixing it. Hold still.”

You sit there, bemused, while Tenko fumbles through the first-aid kit, trying to figure out what to use on a bruise that isn’t bleeding. “You could always kiss it better.”

“That’s lame,” Tenko scoffs. Then he leans in and does it anyway, lightly enough that it doesn’t sting. Your face flushes, a flush that only goes down once he’s come back with what feels like half a tube of Neosporin. When he speaks up again, his voice is quieter. “Why did you let me do that?”

“I didn’t let you,” you say. “Was I supposed to punch you or something?”

“Yeah. Or say ‘hey, don’t fucking bite me’. That would work, too.” Tenko sounds more than a little sarcastic, but it fades fast. “I don’t know how to do any of this. Not that out there –”

He gestures towards the door, the hallway, the League. “Or this in here,” he says, gesturing between the two of you. “You’re going to have to show me how. At first. Then I can pick it up as I go.”

“How to do what? Put a band-aid on a bruise?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tenko says. You figured you probably earned that one, but you’re going to make him say it anyway. “Be – with somebody. Master never – it’s not like I’d ever do what my parents did – or that happy-ending bullshit on TV – I don’t know. And I figure you do, since you’ve got condoms in there.”

You weren’t expecting that. “Are you slut-shaming me?”

“What? No.” Tenko gives you a weird look. “There were, like, two missing. And they’re basically expired.”

“You counted?” You look at Tenko, and he snaps at you to face front again, his face turning red. “Don’t do things like that. It’s weird.”

“Look at that. You already taught me something.”

You’re tempted to retort that Tenko shouldn’t need to be taught not to snoop through your bathroom cabinet, but then you remember that Tenko wasn’t raised like you or anybody else you know. Tenko was raised by villains, and proper socialization doesn’t appear to have been a priority. It hasn’t taught him much about first aid, either. He’s peeling open the biggest band-aid in the kit, touching all kinds of stuff he shouldn’t be touching, before lowering it gingerly down over the bruise. “You’re already good at this part,” you tell him.

“What part is this?”

“Aftercare.”

Tenko’s heard the term before. You can tell by the way his ears turn red. He presses down the bandage at the edges, then sits back. “Next time, tell me not to bite you.”

“See? You can teach me stuff, too.”

Getting into bed is weird. Sure, you both made jokes about sleepovers the last time you saw each other, but this time there’s a bed – and thanks to Tenko’s snooping, you’re both well aware that there’s a mostly-full box of condoms somewhere in the offing. You get under the covers, and after a moment Tenko copies you, fully dressed. He doesn’t stay there too long. “This is too warm.”

“You can sleep outside the blankets. Or take something off.”

The rustling tells you that Tenko’s opted for door number two, most likely with his shirt. “Now what?”

“We sleep,” you say. You decide to save cuddling as a concept for another time. You close your eyes and within seconds, you’re asleep.

You wake up to your phone buzzing on your nightstand, and Tenko tossing and turning in a restless sleep on the far side of the bed. When you flip your phone over you see notifications from the group chat. A whole pileup of them. Hirono and Sho must have finally checked in. You unlock your phone to respond and your heart goes still in your chest.

Kazuo: They didn’t make it.

Kazuo: Sho’s building came down. He died instantly.

Mitsuko: fuck you

Mitsuko: if you don’t quit fucking around

Kazuo: Hirono was trapped in the wreckage. Once she was extricated, she was sent to Yokohama General and died there ninety-eight minutes ago.

Mitsuru: and you’re just telling us now???? what the fuck

Kazuo: We had to notify their families first.

Yoshimi: we’re their family

Yoshimi: what are we going to do

Ryuhei: Sho’s family treated him like SHIT, why do they get to know before we do??

Ryuhei: what the fuck

This isn’t on Kazuo. Whoever else it’s on, it’s not on him, so you wade in, your vocal cords tied in a knot. It’s a good thing this isn’t happening in person. Your friends already saw you cry once this year, and they need someone to be calm. I know Kazuo let us know as soon as he could. And Ryuhei, you’re right – we love them more.

*loved.

You look at Mitsuko’s addition, feeling sick to your stomach. Love. It doesn’t go away. It never goes away. If anyone knows that, you do. We should be together right now. Kazuo, are you okay to host tonight?

Kazuo doesn’t send anything more than a thumbs-up, which is how you know that whatever feelings he has left are hurt by how everyone’s treating him. What’s he been doing all night? Using his quirk. Identifying victims. You’re overcome suddenly with the need to see him, to give him one of those hugs he always stands awkwardly in but never pulls away from. He’s your friend, too. Your friend who’s never hurt you or dragged you into the middle of his disastrous crusade against society. A crusade that just got two of your other friends killed.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and beside you, Tenko stirs, sits up. “What?” he asks, but you don’t answer. Can’t answer. You’re too busy jamming your fist in your mouth, a move you didn’t realize you learned from Tenko until right this second. “Who are you talking to?”

Notificaitons come up – your friends, setting a time to go to Kazuo’s – and you power off your phone and shove it away. You’ll get there early. You need to talk to him first, tell him that you get it as much as anyone can, that you’re sorry he was forced into this position, sorry he was the one who had to say it. Sorry because this is your fault. If you’d told UA ahead of time what was happening, then the student wouldn’t have been kidnapped. Then there would have been no fight in Kamino Ward that led to hundreds, maybe thousands of casualties. If you had just –

“What is it?” Tenko shakes your shoulder. “Hey. Take that out of your mouth and talk to me. What –”

You pry your fist from between your teeth. “I’m going to tell you something, and I need you not to say anything.” You can’t sit through his justifications, his arguments for why it’s All Might’s fault, when all you care about is your friends and what happened to them. If they knew what was happening. If they were scared. “Two of my friends died in Kamino Ward tonight. I just found out.”

“I –”

“Don’t say anything,” you say. “Just –”

You turn to face Tenko, wrapping your arms around him, burying your face in his shoulder. The two of you have been through the hugging procedure enough times now that he knows what to do in response. He hugs you back, hauls you closer. His skin smells like sweat and smoke, but yours smells like blood, and you know already that you’ll be tearing the sheets off the bed, throwing them away, getting rid of the evidence. But it doesn’t matter how much evidence you get rid of. You can’t hide the truth: This happened tonight because of what Tenko did, and what you didn’t do.

You made this bed, you and Tenko. At least you get to lie in it together.

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shimura tenko x reader #tenko shimura x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura #shimura tenko #x reader #reader insert #please hold

31 notes · View notes

skriblobz · 3 days

Text

WORTH.

♡ — aventurine x ratio.

genre: fluffy wuffy tuffy >:33

warning: no warnings y'all, enjoy yo shit 🤟🏼

wc: 496

a/n: helloe!! this is actually my first time in a few months writing a fanfic again for funsies :33 i know it's short and looks almost stupid, but it shows how much unmotivated i was, but yet having the urge to do it, i hope you all enjoy tho!!!

p.s: kindly support me by liking/reblogging!! thank you <33

“you have to stop this, you damned gambler,” ratio muttered as his hands squeezed aventurine's shoulder tightly.

“don't you know how worried i get whenever you bet on your life like that?!”

the professor had always told the gambler the same thing, over and over and over again. and yet, the latter never listens. he would always brush it off by saying “i'm gonna be okay” or “all or nothing”, which makes ratio extremely pissed off and worried, knowing that aventurine would always be nothing but a reckless all the time while making decisions.

and again, aventurine didn't listen.

aventurine waved his hand, denying ratio's concern for him with his usual smug smile on his face.

“oh come on, doctor. don't be such a party pooper. i mean, i'm safe now, am i right? i'm right in front of you. it's not like i've lost a bet before,” he explained, his voice tinged with such confidence. that made ratio snap.

the professor kept his grip on the other's shoulder as he stared into his eyes with rage, raising his voice slightly to show how upset he was at him.

“do you even understand how reckless you are?! you always bet on your life, as if you don't care about yourself at all! who do you think you are, aventurine?!”

aventurine's eyes bulged slightly as he heard ratio's booming voice that echoed throughout the room they shared, feeling ashamed, which was a rare occurrence from him as he looked away from ratio with a slight frown.

ratio, who eventually took notice of aventurine's expression, slowly began to calm down before tipping the gambler's chin up so that he could look into his eyes and admire him silently. for the professor himself to be this soft for someone was a rare sight, and aventurine was the exception amongst the others.

ratio sighed quietly while keeping eye contact, his hand slowly finding his way to the other's cheek, caressing it gently as he said his words in almost a whisper.

“look, i don't like it when you do this to yourself.. you need to stop doing these things,” his voice and look carried a hint of concern and worry for him. aventurine, on the other hand, didn't know what to do. all he did was frown and kept looking away in shame, but ratio always made sure he looked back.

“i told you more than once but you never listen! your life is as valuable as anyone's. you're worthy, kakavasha. i cherish you more than anything, so please, take my word and live for the best. for you and me. i can't risk losing you," he whispered, pulling aventurine into a gentle embrace.

aventurine's eyes then began to well up with tears before he embraced him back, burying his face into the crook of his neck, finally accepting the words that was told once more.

“i'm sorry.. i'll do better and not be so reckless this time..”

31 notes · View notes

thedeviltohisangel · 2 days

Note

i feel like the more feral i get, the more feral you get. i've never had a writer be so intuned to my fanfic needs, like you're genuinely reading my mind. so please forgive my spamming you 🙏🏻

but back to your prompts:

"love, don't hide your face, don't.." hands gently removing yours from your flushed face. "you make me flustered. " you say, but they kiss you through those words and mumble against your lips, "you fluster me more, sweetheart."

is such a bucky and cass thing it makes it hard to breathe. like maybe it's her realizing how much bucky egan just NEEDS her during the beginning of their relationship or them as official newlyweds after the war? just explicit smutty goodness i beg

KISSING PROMPT ERA

this is one of the best compliments I could have ever received. I am honored to try and match your feral nature and will continue to strive to do so. please never apologizing for popping into my inbox or DMs because it is my lifeblood and I love you for it.

this was giving freshly arrived in south carolina vibes. and we don't talk nearly enough how I think these two are exhibitionists.

warning: smut

The whiskey was good, at least he could admit that. The fancy club that the Cooper family was having dinner at that night seemed to be dripping with wealth. Everything from the wood floors to the silverware to the different glasses on the table were polished to the point he could see his reflection. Someone had taken Cass' jacket in the foyer and she had worn silk gloves and diamond earrings and he couldn't find a way to get comfortable in these chairs.

"Everything alright?" Cass rested her hand on his thigh as she dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a cloth napkin. Her hair was pulled back into some intricate clip that he couldn't quite understand. His fingers twitched to pull and let it loose.

"Just don't know which fork to use," he muttered as he twined his fingers through hers.

"Start far away from the plate, then work your way in with each course."

"Got it," he nodded but squeezed her hand tighter. Cass hid her mouth as she made eye contact with her older sister across the table and giggled.

"Don't worry, John, you look exactly like you belong," Olivia smiled around her martini. She had been struck by the handsomeness of her sister's husband. Had noticed every woman at the club that night tracking his movements as soon as he had entered. Olivia knew John Egan would be the talk of every lunch and tea and beauty salon in South Carolina for the next few days.

"Most handsome man is this stuffy, mothball of a place," Cass whispered as she indulged in a chaste kiss on his lips.

"Your husband," he whispered back. It was more important that people know he belonged to her than anything else.

"And you get to marry me all over again soon." John hummed and opened his mouth to hers, Cass ignoring all her training in manners to groan against him.

"Cassandra Ann." Her mother's voice rang out from the end of table. "Mind your posture." Cass' back straightened on command and she returned to picking at the food on the plate in front of her.

"Yes, mama," she replied with a smile. "My love, I think I left my compact in the pocket of my coat. Will you accompany me to look for it?" Olivia smiled wickedly as she read between the lines of her younger sister's words.

"Of course, Mrs. Egan." Cass thinks she heard her mother's heart constrict.

"Make sure they don't wait for us to eat," Cass said to her sister as John pulled out her chair and pressed his hand to the small of her back, guiding her back towards the coat check.

"How long have we got to say we are looking for your compact?" John asked, ducking his lips to brush against her ear as his wife surveyed the hallway before sneaking through the coat clerk's entrance.

"As long as we want. I don't care about the stares and whispers. Not anymore. Not when I've got you to keep my mind preoccupied." Her fingers gripped around the lapel of his suit jacket as she walked backwards and pulled him deeper and deeper into the racks of coats until her back hit a wall.

"Just your mind?" he asked as his fingers pulled up the hem of skirt, his mouth water as he found the clips of her stockings and kept moving up. His middle finger found the front of her panties and stroked up and down until she tingled all the way down to her toes.

"Actually, you might be better at clearing my mind," she smiled. Deftly, he tucked the lacy undergarment to the side and moaned into her mouth at the feeling of her soft and warm and wet with no barrier.

"How long have you been wet for me?" he teased as he traced featherlight circles over her clit.

"Always wet for you," she whimpered. She spread her legs wider as he slipped two fingers inside of her with little resistance, his kisses increasing with urgency at the feeling of her walls contracting around him.

"How wet?" Cass could read that exact glint behind his eyes. He curled his fingers deliberately against the front of her and her suspicions were confirmed.

"John." His name came out in a whine as her hips moved in tandem with his fingers.

"Come on, baby, make a mess for me." His thumb worked against her clit as his fingers pulled and stroked and pulsed against the sensitive front wall of her pussy, Cass' breath coming in pants as she closed her eyes to focus fully on the sensation.

"Oh, John. Oh, fuck that feels so good. Please don't ever stop." She searched for something to hold onto and she settled for the front of his jacket again, John's forehead falling against hers. He tapped his nose against hers sweetly, in direct contrast to the sinful movements of his fingers, a sweat collecting across her chest as her breathing came quicker. It skipped slightly at the sound of the clerk opening the door.

"Is he going to learn how pretty my wife sounds when she comes?" Cass could barely nod as the words were trapped in her throat. She could hear and feel just how wet she was. Knew her orgasm was about to explode out of her. A whine left her lips as he buried a third finger to the hilt and a grinded the heel of his hand against her clit, her slick leaking out of her and coating his hand, the skin of her inner thigh and rolling down her leg. With a breathless laugh, she brought her hands to her face and covered her enflamed cheeks. "Love don't hide your face, don't..." He wrapped his hands around her wrists and gently pried her hands away from her face.

"You make me flustered," she laughed, her legs quivering as John wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush to his chest.

"You fluster me more, sweetheart," he mumbled against her lips. "I love you. I love you so much, Spook."

"I love-"

"Hello? Is someone back here?" With a giggle, he took her hand they were off. Off to cause chaos in another corner of the world.

#john egan #john egan fanfiction #masters of the air #masters of the air fanfiction #callum turner #john egan x oc #cass and bucky #answered

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zhaosbin · 21 hours

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mr shen will see you now - s. ricky

summary: literally just the beginning of 50 shades of grey...

reader: ricky x afab reader

warnings: dom ricky x sub reader, oral (m receiving), cold!ricky, they have sex on his desk... MINORS DNI

a/n: i will proofread this in the morning also TYSM to the anon that sent this in ur sooo real

it was the first day of your new internship and somehow you got stuck interviewing the most affluent man in shanghai. you didn't really know much about shen ricky, other than the fact that he owns half of china and was ridiculously gorgeous. from the outside, he seems like a very stern and cold man so you were anxious the entire day leading up to the interview.

entering shen enterprises, you approach the desk lady who was dressed head to toe in YSL. you thank god you had worn a nice dress today although it was rather short, it seemed to fit the vibe of this place.

"excuse me, my name is y/n i'm here for the interview with mr shen" you say impressively composed.

to your surprise, the rather intimidating looking desk lady was actually very sweet.

"oh hello dear! please take a seat and i'll go check if he's ready" she says cheerily.

you thank her with a nod of your head and a smile while you try to keep your anxiety under control.

breathe y/n. it's just an interview like the hundreds of ones you've done before. it's just an interview...with an insanely attractive man... you cut your thoughts off when the desk lady reappears.

"mr shen will see you now" she says professionally while smiling at you.

you quickly get up to follow her into the elevators and try your hardest to push your thoughts from before away.

when the doors open you step out, half expecting the desk lady to walk in with you. you giggle out of nervousness and wave to her as the doors of the elevator shut, leaving you alone in front of his door.

gathering up any bit of courage you had left in this moment, you gently knock on the door to his office.

"come in" a deep voice says and you take one last deep breath before you open the door.

you don't think anything could have fully prepared you for this situation. not your four years of college or the three internships you had prior to this one. no. nothing could have prepared you to meet shen ricky.

you didn't think it was possible, but somehow he was even more gorgeous than he appeared in the magazines and newspapers.

hoping he didn't catch onto you openly eyeing him down, you take a seat with your pen and paper in front of his desk.

mr shen looks down at you, an unreadable expression on his face.

"h-hi my name is y/n and i'm here to interv-" he cuts you off.

"i know why you're here. i have a lot to do today so if we could get on with the questioning please" he says very straightforward.

you nervously smile and open ur notes to find the questions your company had prepared.

while flipping through all of the pages, you didn't notice the beautiful man in front of you staring at your legs, or rather, the parts that weren't covered from your short dress.

after finally finding the page with the questions, you look up at him to find him making direct eye contact with you.

"so the first question i have for you is to what do you owe your success" you say while reading the page carefully.

mr shen sighs.

"are these really the questions you want to ask me? you can look at any interview i've done before and find the answers to all of these" he says while sounding annoyed.

all of your anxiety comes back and your palms start to sweat. you haven't even been here for 5 minutes and you already pissed him off.

before you could even come up with an answer, he beats you to it.

"i want to know about you" he says sharply.

"about me? but sir i-i'm here to interview you" you mutter out confusedly.

having someone as cute and fragile as you calling him sir ignited something in ricky.

"i want to know why you chose to wear such a tiny little dress to come interview me. was it on purpose?" mr shen says almost seductively.

you had to have heard him wrong. there was no way this gorgeous man even took notice of your clothes let alone the length of them.

"i-i don't know what your talking about sir" you say gulping and biting down on your lip just a bit.

it was only a bit, but once he saw that there was no stopping him.

he motioned for you to come over to his side of the desk. you knew the interview was over at this point and you didn't really care if you got fired. maybe you did care a little, but the wetness beginning to form in your panties was all you could focus on.

you quickly get up, not wanting to piss him off even more. once you were standing in front of him, he patted his lap.

your eyes widened. he had to be joking. there was no way. there was just no way.

poking his tongue into the side of his cheek, you could tell mr shen was starting to get fed up with the slowness of your actions.

after seeing that, you immediately plop down on his lap, the skirt to your very short dress riding up your thighs a little more.

mr shen started gently rubbing your legs and you were trying to keep your breathing under control.

"are you okay with this?" mr shen asks you, for once sounding sincere with his words.

"yes mr shen. please" you all but whimper out.

"call me ricky or sir. do you understand?" he says going back to being his stern self.

"please sir. i need you so bad". you could feel the dampness from your panties transferring onto his expensive suit but neither of you cared.

after hearing this, ricky immediately pulls you in for a kiss.

the kiss didn't last very long and it was rather innocent, well, that was until he started grabbing your hair and kissing you harder.

you moan into the kiss while sliding your hips up and down his thigh desperate for any sort of stimulation.

ricky smacks your ass and you yelp.

"be a good girl darling" he says almost threateningly.

you halt your movements on his thigh and try to distract yourself by focusing on his lips against yours.

ricky pulls away from the kiss and pushes you down onto your knees.

immediately understanding what he wanted, you quickly undo the buttons to his expensive slacks.

you pull down his boxers immediately to see his cock already dripping with precum.

you waste no time attaching your mouth to his cock, taking as much of him into your mouth as you could fit.

ricky groans and shuts his eyes, grabbing the back of your ponytail to guide your movements.

"i knew you could be a good girl" he says smugly.

the only reply you could give him was a muffled hum around his base that had him jerking his hips.

after a few more bobs of your head, ricky was getting close. too close.

he gently pushed your perfect mouth off of him and made work of stripping your clothes off of you.

he lifted you up with ease and placed you on top of his desk.

having had enough of all the foreplay, ricky lines up his tip with your achingly wet core and slowly pushes in.

you both moan at the feeling and he leans in to kiss you again.

his slow speed didn't last very long and he easily switches into a much faster pace.

"fuck you're so tight" ricky groans out.

"please sir, make me cum" you try not to shout as his cock is ramming into you.

and your wish is his command.

after a few more harsh thrusts, you feel relief wash over your body. fucking you through your orgasm, ricky cums right after and let's out the sexiest moan you'd ever heard. you swore you could die.

before the two of you could even take a breath, there is a knock at his door. he places his large hand over your mouth.

"mr shen your 5 o'clock appointment is here" the same desk lady from earlier chimes behind the (thankfully) locked door.

"cancel it" ricky says sternly staring into your eyes.

you had a feeling this interview would last more than your reserved 30 minute time slot.

#zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #zb1 smut #ricky x reader #ricky smut

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morelikeravenbore · 2 days

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🦋 Aurélie Collins

F L U F F Y A L P H A B E T | It's about time I did one of these for my girl. SFW, all fluff.

✨ Read my Sebastian alphabets here [spicy] and here [fluffy].

✨ My Hogwarts Legacy Masterlist.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

I recently described Aurélie as a "newly adopted cat" and I don't think I'll ever come up with a better way to describe the way she handles affection, lolol. Bit skittish and wary at first, but the more you keep at it, the more she'll start to enjoy it (but she'll pretend she doesn't.)

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Most of Aura's friendships start out with the other person being strangely persistent about befriending her until she eventually comes to accept them being a part of her life, lol.

She likes to make her friends feel pretty (regardless of their gender). She'll braid/play with their hair, randomly buy them pretty things or expensive clothes, gift them items from her own wardrobe that she doesn't want any more, take them shopping.

She's very distrustful of anyone who shows romantic interest towards her friends and will give them the stink-eye until they prove themselves worthy ("But are you sure you like him?")

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

With Sebastian "Physical Affection" Sallow as her partner, she doesn't have much of a choice, lol. But yes, once the newly adopted cat feels comfortable in her surroundings, it's virtually impossible to pry her away from the warm cozy cuddles.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

She's a Taurus rising homebody who craves stability and love, so she definitely wants to settle down. Her house would be aesthetic af (probably somewhere in the south of France by the ocean), and she'd have a cute little garden and a bunch of smol cute doggos (and eventually some smol cute kiddos). She'd be a total domestic goddess.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Uhh, well, Sebastian is her first and only relationship and they don't technically ever break up but [redacted for possible spoilers aaahaha]

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

She never gave much thought to marriage (or romance in general) until she fell in love with Sebastian, but after that, she knew she'd never love anyone as much as she loves him and honestly gets low-key impatient waiting for him to propose.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

She might have a cute li'l French-girl temper, but she's suuuch a gentle soul underneath it all. She struggles so much with her Ancient Magic because of how destructive it is; the thought of hurting people, whether by accident or otherwise — even if it's to defend herself — is unbearable. If she could rid herself of the power, she would do it without hesitation.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

She'll give hugs if they're needed or meaningful, but she doesn't go around hugging people willy nilly. She's not comfortable with excessive physical contact, but she'll tolerate it if one of her friends is the affectionate sort (ie literally all of them including her bf lolll).

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

HAHAHAaa twenty one chapters deep into Villain and she's not even close to saying it even though she knows it. She tends to show that she loves you through actions.

J= Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?)

Not reeeeally. If anything, she gets insecure and will genuinely wonder why anyone likes her. She carries a lot of personal guilt over the losses in her life and tends to project those feelings onto the people she loves.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Being kissed in the centre of her forehead is her absolute favourite; it immediately makes her feel calm and loved and protected. Her favourite place to kiss is the underside of Sebastian's jawline since he's so much taller than she is.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

While she's not super clucky and doe-eyed around them, she's surprisingly patient with children. As a mama, she'd be very hands on, teaching them how to garden without magic the way her Papa taught her, playing make-believe and encouraging their creative play.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Aurélie is up and at'em with the sun, fresh as a daisy, probably dragging a grumbling Sebastian out of bed to watch the sunrise, pottering around the garden, baking bread, drinking tea, walking the dogs, going for a swim in the sea aka absolutely thriving.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Night time is when she gets all soft and cuddly, which means good luck having any personal space or getting anything done because Aura is gonna cling. Newly adopted cat, remember? Wants cuddles. Needs belly rubs. Not that Sebastian ever complains about it, only he's had to learn how to read and study with a cute girl climbing all over him and falling asleep in his lap and making his legs numb because he doesn't wanna risk waking her up by moving.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

If she isn't directly asked questions, she won't willingly reveal anything about herself. She's very guarded and prefers to listen than to talk, so if she trusts you enough to tell you her secrets, you best believe you mean a lot to her.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

LOL listen. Bebe isn't known for her patience. She isn't easily angered (contrary to popular belief), but if she believes you've wronged her or behaved unacceptably, she will have no hesitation in letting you know about it — and it will be very French. She may be quiet, but she's certainly not shy.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Since she's the Queen of diverting attention away from herself, she learns a lot about the people she cares about. She's also got a fantastic memory and will likely remember things you mentioned in passing one time several years ago. Also means she'll never forget it if you offend her lol.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Laughter! Sebastian is very good making her laugh when she least suspects it, and it's one of her favourite things about him. Aurélie is very introspective, can get stuck in her own head, and if she's gets onto a rant about something, it's hard for her to stop, so any moment when Sebastian disarms her by making her laugh is a moment she treasures.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Given what she's been through, she is pretty distrusting of new people. If her friend has a new love interest, she'll immediately dislike that person and probably try to convince her friend not to bother lolll. She doesn't give away her love easily and ia very protective of the special few who receive it.

Sebastian is insanely protective of her, of course. It's basically how he courts her HAHA.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

She's like, famous for her gifts. Since her primary love language is gift giving, she pays special attention to all your favourite things and collects little gifts whenever she finds them. Doesn't even need to be a special occasion, either — often times, she'll just gift you something simply because it reminded her of you. It's how she tells you she cares about you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

HAHA listen, she's a perfect angel who's never done a thing wrong in her life HOWEVER she is extremely stubborn, infuriatingly closed off and would rather eat flobberworm fritters every day of her life than ever ask for help. If she isn't being constantly drawn out of her shell, she'll stay in it forever.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

I'm always wary when creating "conventionally beautiful" characters that their looks don't become their entire personality, but if you've read Villain, you'll know that Aurélie doesn't think much about her looks. And that's because, well — she's just naturally beautiful. She doesn't have to think about it. Sure, she likes to look pretty, and she loves beautiful clothes and nice things, but she doesn't actively have to try very hard to achieve it. If anything, her focus is more on how she should "behave" or "present herself". Even in early chapters, Sebastian's descriptions of her physical appearance are always based on how "elegant" she is rather than how pretty she is, because that's what Aura is focused on projecting.

For example, from chapter three:

Finally, when 'Collins, Aurélie' was called to take the stool, the new girl stepped up to the podium with all the grace of a ballerina taking to the stage, her head held high despite the clear look of anxiety on her face. Sebastian rolled his eyes again; she wouldn't last a day in Slytherin - not being as delicate as that — the snake pit would devour her alive.

She definitely has pretty privilege in that people are naturally drawn to helping her, giving her gifts or going out of their way to make her feel comfortable, but she's genuinely pretty clueless of the effect her beauty has on others.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Absolutely. Being so guarded, once she loves you, she won't ever stop. The loss of someone she loves is a pain she'll hold onto forever.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

She thinks butterbeer is the most revolting to ever exist, and the first time she tried it with Sebastian, she accused him of pranking her ("people actually drink this?!")

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

Being unkind to animals, and littering. And in modern au, smoking would be a huge ick.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

She can't sleep without a light on. It's absolutely non-negotiable; if there isn't a light source, she won't fall asleep. Lucky for her, Sebastian is a night owl and is usually awake reading long after she falls asleep, so it works for them.

#hogwarts legacy #aurelie collins #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy mc #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy oc #sebastian sallow x mc #sebaura #hogwarts legacy screenshots #hogwarts legacy alphabet #ravenclaw oc #hogwarts legacy sebastian

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richardslappy · 1 year

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FUCK

#this guy at work that's been basically harassing me always comes half an hour early to drop off his water bottle and lunch and shit #and then stands here in the kiosk either actuively trying to start conversation or standing there staring @ me hoping that I'll start one #i sent an email abt his harassment last week and they said they'd address it today #so he comes in half an hour early today #he is going to be in this little fucking box with me for 3 HOURS #and he comes in half an hour early and says #well I made it i didn't want to come today #and I'm like hm.#and I keep eye contact with him but i don't say anything #and he stands there an uncomfortable amount of time before he says he'll see me in a little bit and leaves #i have told this FUKING guy that he CAN NOT hang out in the kiosk when he's on the clock.#and he ALWAYS tries to push it.#i hate him SO MUCH #he never stops trying to push past my boundaries I never want to see him ever ever ever ever again #oops he can't hang out in the kiosk when he's NOT on the clock sorry

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satoruxx · 5 months

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pairing: toji fushiguro x reader | 1.6k words summary: boyfriend!toji headcanons, fluff, soft!toji, grumpy x sunshine, he’s a simp but he’ll never admit it !! rheya's note: grumpy man being soft for the person he really loves? i’m here for it. mamaguro is literal proof that he can and will love !!

bf!toji who is silent with his care for you. he's not one to be open or dramatic about his feelings, but you bet he'll show them in actions. small, mundane things that could only be picked out under critical eyes—like quietly placing an extra mug of coffee next to you as you work, or being the one to walk closest to the street, fingers firmly clasped around your palm. if you point it out he'll just grunt, shaking his head with a quiet "keep walking" all while pretending to ignore your silly little grin.

bf!toji who isn't really the type to be big on words of affirmation, but huge on physical touch. you tell him you did well on a project at school or work and he just hums, giving you a little nod. he doesn't say anything else—doesn't really have to because the soft lingering pat on your head is enough to tell you that he's proud.

bf!toji who is an aggressive yet affectionate lover. if you're doing something and he's not receiving your attention he will come up behind you and put you in a headlock. he thinks it's an appropriate response considering how much he craves your attention and company—why on earth are you focused on something that isn't him anyway? so be prepared to have his heavy bicep playfully curling around your throat or slinging you over his shoulders at random times—it's his way of telling you he misses you. and if anything, he'll do it to hear you whine and attempt to shove him off.

bf!toji who will absolutely take your phone and change your lockscreen to pictures of him. every so often, you'll turn your phone on and see an entirely different picture—sometimes a picture of him at the gym, other times a picture of him blocking out his face—but it's always him.

bf!toji whose own lockscreen is always something that's related to you. he's sneaky with it, always stealing pictures of you when you're not looking. he's got a separate album with them—probably hidden behind a password because it's something only he should be allowed to see. but whether it's a snapshot of his hand intertwined with yours or a blurry image of you fast asleep in his bed, it's always you. because of course you’re the first thing he should be able to see when he turns his phone on.

bf!toji who, as cliché as it sounds, is exactly the type to go feral if someone's made you upset. and he's freakishly observant, noticing even a slight pinch of your nose or wobble in your lips—he's caught them all. whether you're just down or outright sobbing, he's there, standing in front of you with pure anger weighing heavy on his brows. and yet for all his rage he's nothing but gentle as he firmly takes your face in his calloused hands, muttering a strained "what the fuck happened?" as he forces you to make eye contact with him. his own eyes will dart over your features, searching for discomfort or any other emotion as you explain, barely holding back his own emotions because there's no reason on the fucking planet that you should be upset at all.

bf!toji who rarely says the words "i love you" not because he doesn't but because the words themselves don't hold all that much meaning to him. no he'd rather spend his time proving it to you than just saying it for the sake of saying it. but, sometimes if you pretend to be asleep long enough, you'll catch him quietly whisper the words into your hair, almost like he doesn't want anyone to hear it. don't even bother trying to call him out for it—he'll deny deny deny.

bf!toji whose eyes flutter when he lets you trace over his scars. not just the one cutting over his lips but the ones that litter his back and torso—battle remnants that he doesn't remember much of. he's always hated the look of them, indifferent to old memories of a much more chaotic time in his life. but when your gentle fingers graze over the raised skin he'll sigh, oddly quiet but yet so comfortable.

bf!toji who will drop everything if you need him. don't ever hesitate to ask him for things because you're scared of being a burden—he will yell at you (affectionately). you drank too much with your friends and can't get a ride? call him and he'll pick you up even if it's 4 am. you're feeling nervous about walking home from the convenience store even though it's only ten minutes away from home? stay put and he'll come get you so that you can walk back together. shut up about all that "it's an inconvenience for you" bullshit—he'll do it and that's that.

bf!toji who asks if you've eaten today, and when you answer with a sheepish smile he'll click his tongue, crossing his bulky arms over his chest and giving you a pointed glare. then he'll say "get your ass to the kitchen. c'mon, up." while hoisting you to your feet—most of the time he'll just pick you up and plop you on the counter himself.

bf!toji who wordlessly makes you something to eat, whether it's a quick snack put together with leftovers or an actual full meal. then he'll stand in front of you with the plate and demand you eat. even a slight word of protest and he's scowling, already holding up a spoonful while grumbling a low "don't wanna hear it. open up, kid."

bf!toji who hates when you fall asleep on the couch waiting for him to get home. his job doesn't allow for the comfort of a strict schedule, and he's told you this many times. but you're nothing if not stubborn, and he can only sigh heavily as he sees you dozing against the armrest when he pushes the door open late at night. he'll click his tongue quietly, hooking both arms under your back and knees to cradle you against his chest before walking to the bedroom. though some part of him is pleased, knowing that you seem to care about him enough to make sure he's coming home every night.

bf!toji who glares at anyone who even breathes in your direction the wrong way. some guy eyeing you while you're walking on the street? toji looks like he's ready to rip his head off. some "friend" of yours asking too many questions about why you're dating a man like him? well…if looks could kill.

bf!toji who pulls you into his lap when he kisses you, because he likes the way you fit into his space so perfectly. he won't ever admit how it makes him swoon when you giggle against his lips, instead choosing to tighten his grip on your hips and pull you closer to his chest.

bf!toji who enjoys watching you sit on the kitchen counter and swing your legs back and forth—finding it so unbelievably endearing that he ends up just standing in between your legs and burying his face into your neck. his lips will map chaste kisses across your skin, and he'll hide a wry smile as your quiet giggles wash over him.

bf!toji who will notice when you eye something at a store, whether it's a pretty piece of jewelry or a new sweater or whatever—he keeps note. and then weeks later, once you've forgotten all about it, he'll come home and drop a bag into your lap before shoving his hands into his pockets. when you open it and start gushing about how much you wanted it and how pleased you are, he'll huff and turn away, muttering a low "whatever, kid. 's not a big deal."

bf!toji who sees you upset about something, and loops his bicep around your neck and tucks you under his chin. to an outsider it doesn't look like the most comforting form of a hug, but it's toji, and he's secure and he's safe and he's all the comfort you need—a tight squeeze that grounds you in a way that you can't quite describe.

bf!toji who will never admit how interested he is in your gossip. his ideal way to destress after he comes home is to sit on the couch with you in his lap, your arms looped around his waist as you press yourself against his torso and tuck your head under his chin. and even though his eyes are trained on the tv, he has no clue what's going on—he's more focused on the drama you're spilling or whoever you're ranting about. and he makes it known too, occasionally asking "then what happened, baby?" and adding in a few sounds of disbelief. by the end of your rant, he'll be saying something along the lines of "what a fucking bitch," or "honestly he deserved that," and then asks for updates on the situation over the next few days.

bf!toji who silently watches you trace your fingers over the lines on his palms. you're blabbering about something, tucked against his chest as his other arm remains wrapped around you securely, but he's just focused on your hands. it scares him a little bit—the difference between you and him. his palms are calloused, rough with battle and death, while yours are soft, clean of the horrors he's determined to keep away from you. and a small part of him tells him he shouldn't taint you with all his faults, that you deserve someone more capable of loving than he is. but then he feels you brush your lips over his scarred fingers and he sucks in a breath, tightening his grip imperceptibly. even as he hides a half smile against your brow, he knows he isn't going anywhere.

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street-smarts00 · 2 months

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Clingy

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (BAU!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WC: 3.7k

Summary: You tended to be very expressive with your friends when showing your affection. Whether it showed in pet names or physical touch. Only thing is, Spencer thinks he’s falling in love with you, and all of your sweet affectionate actions are starting to take a toll on his unrequited heart. At least, he thinks it’s unrequited.

Tags: there’s a tiny bit of miscommunication but not too much that it will make your head explode like it does mine. Make out but nothing grown/spicy. Friends to lovers. A bit of hurt/comfort

A/N: Not beta read don’t kill me! yoooo spence is so in denial about her feelings in this but lol so real king. This is mostly from his POV but I had to cheat a few times. Hope i can live up to the hype that complimentary colors was. I low key don't like this one as much but had to execute it cause the idea was cute.

You were starting to drive him insane. Criminally insane. You could invade his thoughts at any waking moment of his day and take over his mind. Every affectionate pet name, every soft fleeting touch, hell every time you look at him, he would replay the moment in his mind like a broken record. If he was in a crowded room, his eyes would always fall on you.

After being with the BAU for a while you became good friends with your coworkers. And with that, came your habit of calling your friends sweet nicknames. Anything from sweetie, to honey, to babes, and the one that broke his heart the most, my love.

At first he didn’t understand why you were using terms of endearment that were typically used in a romantic relationship, but in a platonic way. At some point he caught on that you were similar to Garcia when it came to expressing your love for friends. Similar to her and the way she has her own sweet silly way of expressing how she cares.

Nevertheless, some small part of his heart still broke when you called him those names. He adored your sweet caring nature and the fact that you cared enough about him to call him terms of endearment. But every time a nickname fell from your lips, he was reminded you only meant it platonically.

It was his own personal torture to constantly be reminded he would never be your sweetie, your honey … your love. But the nicknames weren’t enough to drive him insane. While it drove him to the brink of insanity, he was able to keep his head somewhat still on his shoulders.

Not long after the heart warming but crushing nicknames, you showed your true love language. Physical touch. It showed in many forms. It could show when poking JJ in the shoulder and giving Emily a high five. Or nudging Morgan in his side with your elbow. You even managed to get a fist pump from Hotch and Rossi. And of course the welcome and goodbye hugs from Penelope.

You were a bit hesitant at first to express this love language of yours with Spencer due to his aversion to touch and germs. However, you observed that he would gratefully receive occasional touches. Whether it be a hug, high-five, or even the rare ruffle of his hair -which of course would be from Morgan. So you approached him and asked if he was comfortable with physical contact.

When it came to you, he was more than comfortable. You could take him in your arms and he would simply melt into a puddle on the floor. Except he didn’t say that and his reply was closer to a mix of stuttering and rambling about how you could never make him uncomfortable and how he just doesn’t like germs.

Now he’s not saying he regrets his choices. He wouldn’t ever take it back. He enjoys every single lingering touch between the two of you. Actually “enjoys” would be a severe understatement. Every single time you ruffle his hair, lean your head on his shoulder, or even just carefully touch his arm, it was as if a thousand volts of electricity were flowing through him. Like he could light up the city even. You were the best part of his days and the reason breath filled his lungs. You brought a light into his life that made him feel safe and warm.

He desperately wanted your affection, your attention, your touch, to mean something more than he knew it to be. But sooner or later, touch after touch, he started to go insane. Somewhere along the way he had daydreamed so deep he had lost his mind.

You had officially driven Spencer Reid insane.

He was promptly whisked away from his thoughts when he felt the tap of a folder on his shoulder and a light thump on his desk.

“Hotch wants to know your thoughts on the consultation from Colorado,” you started.

He blinked back into focus glancing at the papers on his desk.

“Hey, you alright?” You asked with concern. “You look like your head is in the clouds.”

“I’m fine, just lost in thought,” he answered with a small smile reassuring you.

“Don’t get too lost. Can’t have your genius brain short circuiting on us.” You chuckled as you took a small step closer to him and playfully ruffled his hair.

“I’ll try not to,” he grinned and pushed his hair back after you messed with it.

“Well I’ll be back soon, my love. Gotta go bother Penelope,” you joked before making your way out of the bullpen.

His gaze was lingering on you as you left. His thoughts started to drift to you again as his cheeks turned pink.

“I’ll be back soon, my love,” Morgan mimicked in a higher pitched voice with a grin as he approached Spencer's desk. In response Spencer turned his chair away from Morgan to hide his now red face.

“When are you two going to start dating? You guys already act like a couple.”

“We do not act like a couple,” Spencer argued. “She just sometimes calls me pet names, that's normal for her.”

“You don’t see it do you?” Morgan furrowed his eyebrows and was seconds away from chuckling. “She’s been giving you quite a bit of attention lately. Practically clinging onto you.”

“I mean I- I don’t think so. She does that with everyone, it's not just me. She just happens to be very affectionate with friends.” He answers as his voice almost cracked.

Morgan shook his head, “Oh no it’s more than that. Have you ever noticed that she calls you “my love” but she calls us “love”? Or when we’re on a long flight back home and you two are all cuddly on the jet. How she always seeks out your company and finds an excuse to talk to you or about you.”

Spencer couldn’t speak. He had so many words on the tip of his tongue but his voice wouldn’t make a sound. He sat frozen and mouth slightly agape as his brain started to go into overdrive.

Morgan's face softened at Spencer's reaction. “It’s different with you kid. Friends don’t act like that.”

“You and Garcia do.” Spencer countered, this time definitely with a voice crack. Morgan lightly chucked. He was well aware that his and Penelope’s friendship was a bit different than other male/female friendships.

“Okay you got me there, but you and Y/N aren’t me and Garcia. We may flirt with each other a lot but that’s our thing. You two have this care for each other like nothing I've ever seen.”

Spencer was left stunned once again and Morgan could practically see the gears in his head turning.

“You may not notice it now, or hell you may not let yourself notice it now, but it’s true.”

Those words rang in the back of Spencer's mind for days. Of course on a regular basis you would occupy his mind at any given moment. But now it wasn’t just thoughts about you. His mind was over analyzing almost every interaction between you and him, trying to find what Morgan had talked about. Some form of evidence that proved what you felt for him was beyond what he had initially thought.

He was recounting all the recent times you had approached him out of the members of your team. He recalled all the times you were either hanging out or on the jet and you found yourself tracing patterns on his arm. He was rethinking when you started to use nicknames around him and how it could be different with him than with others. It turned out Morgan might be right, as Spencer realized the numerous times you referred to Garcia or Emily as “love”, but in the rare instance you said “my love” it was only ever directed to him.

The idea of you liking him back had become an all consuming thought, but he was too terrified to ask you. What if Morgan was wrong? Profilers have been wrong before. He became petrified by the idea of asking you about it and possibly finding out his feelings were unrequited. But most of all, he was scared of losing you. Scared that if he brought it up he would make things awkward and ruin your friendship. He couldn’t lose you, not over something as trivial as his feelings.

Unfortunately the mental toll this was taking on his mind started to show. Not so obvious that the everyday person would notice, but you weren’t an everyday person. You grew to know him like the back of your hand. So of course you started to notice the little changes in his behavior. His ever so slight flinch when you would initially touch him. His eyes which used to linger on you and catch your eyes from across the room, now focused almost anywhere you weren’t. The way his body froze when you placed a hand on his shoulder. The way his eyes partially widened when you called him anything other than his name.

He tried to hide his worries from you, but you could tell something was bothering him.

Something about you.

His overall behavior didn’t reflect that he was avoiding you or distancing himself from you. He still talked to you and acted around you like normal. Instead it felt like he was holding himself back from receiving or truly appreciating your affection the way he used to.

Days had passed and the team was sent on a case. While this case was an emotional rollercoaster for everyone, it had affected you the most. The victims had reminded you of yourself and the unsub and all of his delusional reasoning for his actions had hit very close to home.

The team caught the unsub and closed the case quite late in the evening. Everyone was exhausted after the grueling past few days and decided to spend the night at the hotel to rest and leave in the morning. You however, still felt an ache in your stomach from all the anxiety felt throughout the day. You couldn’t seem to relax and let that weight off your shoulders. So you went to the one person who could help.

Spencer was getting ready to go to sleep, peacefully reading a book in bed when he got a knock on his door. He placed his book down and when he opened the door he was greeted by you in pajama pants and a zip up hoodie, clearly also winding down for the night.

“Hey,” you greeted.

“Hi, what’s up? Is everything okay?” he asked, a bit concerned as to why you showed up at his hotel so late at night. He opened the door wider signaling you were welcome inside. You entered the room and stuffed your hands in your pockets as he closed the door.

“I’m okay I just …” you cleared your throat. “I know this case has been a tough one but today’s been really hard for me. I’m still wired and awake, I can’t seem to relax enough to go to sleep,” You abruptly stopped your rambling to catch your breath.

“This might sound dumb but, I’m in desperate need of a hug right now,” you finally admitted quietly.

He hated seeing you so timid and closed off. How you made yourself smaller than you were, all because you were asking for your basic needs to be met.

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t have to explain why you need a hug. You can just ask,” he said reassuringly.

“Oh.”

“Physical contact has been shown to increase levels of dopamine, serotonin, and even oxytocin; therefore, decreasing levels of stress and anxiety. Some people might even argue that physical touch is a fundamental element of being human and experiencing life.” His other way of trying to validate your feelings was of course rambling a string of facts and information from his fingertips.

You couldn’t help but smile. God he loved it when you smiled.

“So is that a yes?” you asked since you never exactly got an answer from your question in the first place. Even though you knew what his answer was.

The corners of his lips turned into a grin. “Come here,” he says with outstretched arms.

You practically ran into him at his offer. He wrapped his arms around you as you placed yours around his neck. He wished this moment could last forever. All while at the same time Morgan's previous statements were circling around in his head.

He tried his best to push them away. He tried to tell himself this was not you acting on any potential feelings for him. This was simply you reaching out to a friend in need.

He took note of the way you held onto him so tightly, almost as if he could leave at any second. It made his heart ache.

“You feel tired,” he almost whispered.

“I am,” you mumbled back, face buried in his neck.

“Do you wanna lie down?”

You lightly patted him on the back, “Don’t worry I’ll leave you be and go to sleep soon. I just need a minute

“I meant … I meant do you want to lie down here?” He stammered. “So you’re not alone. You seem like you need a friend right now.”

His own heart almost cracks when he says friend. But that’s what you need right now, a friend.

“I’d like that,” you said with a small smile.

You separate from him and he leads you to the bed holding your hand. He sits down against the headboard and waits for you to join him.

You awkwardly sit down on the bed, eyes darting in all directions of where he’s sitting. “I- what should I …”

“You could sit down the way you do on the jet,” he kindly offers.

You relax at his words and move to sit at his side. He wraps his arm around you as you rest your head against his shoulder. You both sat there in a moment of silence, enjoying eachothers company. He was getting lost in the sweet smell of your perfume; the small bit of it that still lingers from the long day you’ve had.

He started to recall all the times you two would be close like this. It didn’t happen very often. Sometimes on a long jet ride home from a long or stressful case. Or sometimes when the team went out for drinks and you would be tired from dancing. In the rare occasions you two were like this, you would tend to draw patterns on his arm or leg.

So he decided to finally return the favor. With the arm he had wrapped around you, he started to dance his fingertips over your upper arm.

He felt you practically melt into him at the action. If you could get any closer to him, you did.

He continued tracing your arm with an overwhelming amount of care. It made you consider his previous actions compared to how welcome you were now in his arms.

“Spencer, I’m gonna ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me,” you spoke with a hidden hesitation in your voice.

“Of course I’ll be honest to you. I always will be,” he furrowed his brows at the thought of you being scared of him lying to you.

You let out a small, almost shaky breath. “Am I clingy?” you murmured.

This made his hand on your arm stop. He shifted his sitting position so he could face you better but also didn’t want to let you out of his hold.

“No, never,” he told you with assurance. “Why would you think you’re clingy?”

He saw you hesitate once more before you gave him your reply. “I was just overthinking things. Worried I was taking the physical contact thing too far or that I’m a bit too affectionate at times.“

“Why would you be worried? You’d never take things too far. You’ve always been respectful of other people’s boundaries.”

You sighed with a shaky breath. He could practically see through you and see you considering your response.

“Because I thought I was making you uncomfortable.” you looked down to avoid his gaze.

He was quiet for a second, absolutely baffled as to how you would think you could ever make him uncomfortable. “Why?” His question was a barely audible whisper.

“You seemed different. All of a sudden you would freeze when I touched you. You became jumpy and skittish when I talked to you. I thought I was too much for you but you didn’t want to tell me about it.”

You shifted away to face him and his hand fell from your arm. You fidgeted with the sleeves of your hoodie as your face went blank.

“You could never be too much for me,” he spoke with a soft voice. He tried to reach his hand out to hold yours but your hand disappeared in your sleeve at his touch.

“Then why were you different all of a sudden?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

His cheeks started to turn pink, “I- I wasn’t.”

“Yes you were.”

“Y/N please,” he begged.

“Spencer,” you whispered as your eyes bore into his. “You said you’d be honest with me.”

He licked his lips and his face turned red. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He couldn’t find an escape route. He had no choice but to tell you. And once the flood gate opened, he would never be able to close it.

“I was freaking out,” he blurted.

“I was freaking out because Morgan implanted this idea in my head that you might possibly have feelings for me based on the way you act around me. I’ve been obsessed with that thought since he mentioned it. So I freaked out almost every time you touched me, talked to me, even looked at me,” he rambled on anxiously as he tried to explain himself. No holding back now.

“I tried not to let it change my behavior but I guess it did and I am so sorry for that. I never wanted to give you the impression that I was uncomfortable. To be honest I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable”

You were silent for a moment. He couldn’t read your reaction. Your eyebrows slightly raised with your lips parted. He could only see surprise, which was typical, he just didn’t know if this kind of surprise was good.

“Why were you so obsessed with the idea of me having feelings for you?”

He could’ve sworn his heart was going to beat out of his chest at any moment.

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Here we go. Flood gates.

“The idea you might like me back became an all consuming thought because I never before thought it was possible and I never wanted to get my hopes up. Actually, I pretty much think about you all the time so it wasn’t that far from normal. ”

“You’re falling in love with me?” you asked barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” he spoke softly with full confidence.

The only change to your appearance was your eyes widened a bit more. It made Spencer's heart sink to his stomach.

“Listen, I understand if this makes things weird between us and I am so sorry. I just couldn’t ..”

He couldn't finish his thought, you were too busy locking your lips with his. It was a sweet but cautious kiss, almost as if you were testing the waters in uncharted territory. You felt him freeze against you so you leaned away, breaking from the kiss.

Not even seconds later Spencer placed a hand on your face and was diving back into the kiss with fervor. You instantly reacted as your arms found their way around his neck and your hand was digging in his hair. The kiss was intoxicating. Both of you trying to get a taste of the other after what felt like eons of pinning.

He wrapped his arms around your waist while his one hand snuck up to the small of your back where your hoodie had exposed your skin. It sent a shiver up your spine while you let out a shaky breath against his lips. You tried shifting in your seat to somehow get closer to him. With his hands against your waist he helped guide you to sit in his lap straddling him.

When you finally break from the kiss your faces are red and Spencer rests his forehead against yours. You focus on the sound of his breath and the feeling of your heart practically beating in your ears.

Your hand moves to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “I guess I didn’t do a very good job at showing I had feelings for you.”

The corners of his mouth lift up into a giddy smile. “No, you did. I’m just oblivious.”

“Sounded like you were in denial,” you lightly teased.

“That too,” he chuckles.

After a moment of enjoying each other's presence, you pull away from him just far enough to look him in the eyes.

“I know I call everyone pet names, but every time I used them with you, I wanted it to mean something more. Part of me would always hope you would one day call me those names back,”

Spencer swore his heart could give out at any second. He never expected to hear this from you and it made him lightheaded.

“This may sound childish but.. I never craved attention so badly, until you gave me yours,” you added.

He licked his lips and smiled. With his hands still on your waist he traced mindless patterns at your sides. “You have my complete and undivided attention, my love.”

His words made you giddy. You bit your lip to keep yourself from giggling. Although, he would never be opposed to hearing your beautiful laugh.

There were no words to describe the way that you felt. So without thinking, you leaned forward once more to capture his lips with yours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag Requests: @nomajdetective

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

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luveline · 10 months

Note

i NEED anything with glasses reid or munch reid i’m literally frothing at the mouth 🙏

ty for ur request :D fem!reader

"Emily," you say weakly. "What is that?"

Emily looks up from her desk, clearly desperate for a distraction, the lip of her coffee mug against painted lips. "What's what?"

"That." You point. You feel sick to your stomach. "That right there."

"Oh," Emily says happily. "You finally noticed. Yeah, Spence forgot to renew his contact prescription. He has to wear glasses for two weeks."

Spencer stands by the photocopier with a perturbed frown, clicking a button, then another. His brow is furrowed and his hair is falling into his eyes. He has the stupidest, dorkiest, prettiest face, and practically every expression he makes has you weak in the knees.

"That long?" you ask.

Derek looks up in concern at your pained tone, following the line of your eyes. When he realises what it is that's hurt you so, he skirts around the desk to shake your shoulder. "You could always tell him how you feel. I'm sure he'd keep the lenses forever if he knew you liked them."

"I don't like them," you say. You sound faraway to your own ears. You hate them. They're gonna be your demise.

Spencer runs a fingertip across the photocopier's screen, in his own world as the machine finally begins to chug out whatever it is he'd been wanting a duplicate of. The frames of his glasses sit snug on his nose. You can tell from even this distance that the lenses make his eyes look a tiny bit smaller. You could probably point out a misplaced freckle if he asked you to.

"Don't be cruel, he looks cute," Emily teases.

Spencer collects his papers, shuffling them into a straight line as he makes his way back to the bullpen. You pretend to take interest in Emily's things. She sips her coffee too nonchalantly. Derek doesn't even bother pretending.

"What?" Spencer asks, swift to spot your suspicious behaviours. "Is it the glasses?"

You wince. "Of course not. You look… you look really nice, Spence."

"You know he used to wear 'em every day?" Derek asks.

You would've died. "Before I joined?"

"For a few years," Spencer says, looking you over. "You're unhappy. Is something wrong?"

He looks to Derek and Emily for confirmation. Emily stutters for an answer while Derek laughs in the background, "She– you know. She just– She missed breakfast!"

Spencer pushes his glasses up his nose by the leg and drops his copies onto the desk. "I have dried apricot in my bag. Two seconds."

He bends over his chair to retrieve his bag from under the desk. Your eyes blow wide at his position, the sudden demonstration of well-fitted pants. Derek's laugh echoes up to the eaves.

"And he has that twenty four seven," Emily says against the rim of her coffee.

You scrunch your eyes closed and tilt your head back. After a few seconds, a hand touches your elbow gently, a hesitance that comes with only one member of the BAU. "You okay?" Spencer asks.

"I'm okay. Headache," you lie.

Spencer presses the apricot into your hands. "Maybe you should see an optician. You know they can tell if you have a brain tumour from one photo of your sclera?" He smiles morbidly, his glasses slipping down his nose. "They measure the size of your optic disk. It takes less than a minute. I can give you the name of my doctor, if you want. She's nice. Not as nice as you."

Your throat is so dry you can't form words to answer him. He doesn't judge your rigid nodding.

"I'll write down the number for you. And, Y/N?"

"Yeah?" you choke out.

"You look really nice today, too."

Emily has to kick you in the leg to bring you back to earth. Stupid Spencer. Stupid lovely glasses.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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nanaslutt · 4 months

Text

Playing with Toji's nipples

cont: fem reader, established relationship, nipple play, edging, a wink of Sub!Toji, dirty talk, unprotected sex, cumming inside, teasing, rough sex

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Even now, after Toji had already accepted his fate, he was pouting. His massive back was pressed to your chest as you sat against the headboard behind him, your feet hooked over then under his thighs, keeping them spread slightly. Toji stared at the wall, his bottom lip slightly pouted out as he waited for you to make your move so this would all be over.

"Tojiiiii, what's the matter?" You ask teasingly, a big smile across your face as you grab his chin from behind and turn his head to look at you, tilting your head around his body to get a better look at him. Toji doesn't speak, just keeps the 'fate accepted' expression on his face. Your smile grows as you lean in and press your lips against his, making him release an annoyed grunt at the action. He knows you know how much he loves kissing, but he wants to keep his defiant facade up.

"Toji if you really hate the idea that much... we don't have to do it." You say, a bit dejectedly as your hand leaves his face to reach around his body and caress the skin of his abs, your fingers tracing the indents of the strong muscles. Toji shut his eyes and sighed, relishing the feeling of your warm hands on him. "It's your birthday princess. Said I would do what you wanted." He says, his expression softening.

Despite the act he was putting on, he didn't hate the idea of you playing with his nipples all that much, he just hated looking weak in front of anyone, and he knew better than anyone how weak his nipples made him. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder as Toji turned his head back around to watch your hands caress his abdomen. His cock was already half hard, and it was slowly getting harder the more you touched him.

You were sitting on some pillows to make yourself a little taller, that way you could actually see what you were doing over his bulky shoulders, but even then your view was a little obstructed. You had tried to introduce the idea of a mirror, but Toji had shut it down faster than you could even fully finish your proposal. The possibility of you seeing his debauched expressions during this sent shivers down his spine.

"You're so good to me Toji." You giggled, continuing to press little kisses on the expanse of his shoulders. "Oh trust me, I know." He responded cockily, shaking his head. Toji sucked a breath in through his teeth when your lips made contact with the nape of his neck. He sighed loudly, trying to keep his breathing steady when you focused your attention there, the kisses becoming harder, traveling higher up his nape, the short hairs on the back of his neck tickling your lips.

"Do you like it when I kiss you here?" You asked him quietly. Toji grimaced, "Don't use my words agaisnt me." He said, his eyes darting around the room. You smiled to yourself, knowing this was getting him worked up. You trailed your fingers down to the hem of his boxers, where his cock was now fully hard and straining agaisnt the fabric. Toji pressed his lips together, swallowing hard as he waited for you to breach the waistline of his boxers and pull his cock out, even though he knew you wouldn't.

"Don't tease me like that if you aren't gonna touch my cock." Toji said, feeling himself throb at the neglect. "Sorry Toji, if you cum without it I'll let you fuck my throat as a reward, kay?" You said, instantly making him feel better.

Tonight's proposition went like this. Toji promised you could do anything with him for your birthday, and of course, you chose to play with the one thing that was usually off-limits- his nipples. You told him you wanted to make him cum from nipple play alone. You knew he could do it, he was just too defiant to let you go anywhere near them. Only one time had you barely grazed your fingers across his nipples and he released the cutest sound, a sound too cute to come from such a big and scary man like Toji Fushiguro.

You so desperately wanted to hear it again. The desperate sound replayed over and over in your head almost every night as you went to bed. Toji reluctantly agreed after tons and tons of negotiation. Toji tried to steer you away from the idea and instead offered Shibari or blindfolded him, but you knew what you wanted and weren't going to give in for anything.

"Fuck..." Toji groaned, his cock twitching at the thought of getting to shove it down your throat when this was all over. If you had mentioned that compromise when you had first brought this proposal to light, maybe he would've been a little more receptive to the idea. "Whatever just... just do your shit," Toji said, his back muscles flexing against your chest as he leaned against you, getting comfortable. You tightened your legs over his thighs, your ankles pressed just under where his boxers ended, too close to his cock. The pressure from your ankles on his thigh alone was driving him crazy.

"Don't worry, I don't think this will take very long." You reassured teasingly, poking a jab at just how sensitive his chest really was. Toji watched with bated breath as your hands slowly started traveling up his body, away from his cock. A small patch of wetness had started to form where Toji's tip sat behind his boxers, his pre wetting the fabric all wet.

You felt his breath rise and fall quicker when you reached his chest. Toji was internally battling with himself. He couldn't decide if he wanted to watch your hands play with him, or if he needed to look away. Your hands groped the sides of his heavy chest and squished it inward, making it look like he had cleavage. The sight made you smile as you rested your chin on his shoulder, your head tipping against his. "So big..." you said, repressing a giggle.

"You think you're so funny, huh?" Toji said, licking his teeth. Though he sounded ticked off, he was grateful for the playfulness. He would never admit it out loud, but he was nervous. His skin was practically buzzing with it, so your actions now were helping him calm down. "I do actually." You replied, rubbing your head affectionately against his as you continued to massage his massive chest together, making sure to stay away from his nipples for the time being.

You kept massaging him for long enough until all the humor had died down and you just rested on his chest with a focused face, watching the way his chest moved under your ministrations. Toji was getting fidgety at this point, he would rather you touch his nipples already and make him cum than teasing him like this. Your fingers would get so close, but never close enough. He hated to admit it but he had started to crave feeling you there.

Toji tipped his head back against your shoulder, pushing his hips upwards against your legs hooked over his as he got more comfortable. "You okay?" You asked, gazing at the side of his handsome face. His eyes were focused on the ceiling as you spoke. "Just wondering when 'ur gonna do something," Toji said in a bored tone. If it wasn't for his massive boner creating such a large wet patch in his boxers, you would've really believed he was bored.

You smiled and pressed a kiss to the side of his face. "Can I take that as you want me to touch your nipples?" You said, gauging his response. You watched Toji's Adam's apple bob hard as he swallowed whatever saliva was left in his mouth. You hit the nail right on the head, but it was going to take a little more coaxing to get it out of Toji. "No." He said flatly, his eyes fluttering slightly.

You pouted and looked down to his chest before you released the fat of them and started slowly tracing your nails around his areolas, still not touching them, but a hair's length away from doing so. "No?" You repeated, looking back up at him. Toji was adamant about staring at the ceiling, not wanting you to see his expression falter.

Toji pressed his lips together again, his eyes falling shut for half a second longer than normal. If you weren't paying attention, you would've missed it. You kept up that motion, slowly circling his nipples before changing the direction, circling them the other way. Now, his breathing had picked up significantly and was much more noticeable and less suppressed than before.

"Toji..." You said softly, making a choked moan cut off in his throat. "You're dripping." You said, exposing the obvious. Toji dropped his head down from staring at the ceiling and found his cock with his eyes. His mouth dropped open ever so slightly, his arousal almost getting to the point of being too much to bear.

Your eyes never once left his face. You felt yourself throb between the legs watching how effective this type of teasing was at getting him so worked up. You'd never seen his face so flushed before, it was almost the color of his blushing chest. "Fuck..." Toji groaned, licking his teeth in annoyance. On one hand, he, really, reallllllyyy wanted you to touch his chest, but on the other hand, if he begged, you would never let him live it down.

Your words interrupted his internal dilemma. "Toji, just tell me you want it. I'm not asking you to be specific how you ask me to. Just tell me you need it... please." You begged, tipping your head against his again, trying to comfort him. Toji shut his eyes, his breath coming out stuttered and shaky each time you switched the direction of your fingers around his nipples.

With one last heavy sigh, he spoke. "N...need it." He said quietly, his entire face flushing a deep red as a look of displeasure spread across his features. A smile of satisfaction spread across your face, and you squeezed your thighs around his solid body a little harder, forcing his lower back to press against your cunt a little, giving you some relief.

"Good boy Toji," you said. You would absolutely be paying for talking to him like that later, but right now it didn't matter. Giving him no time to rebut, you finally dragged your fingertips to his nipples, raking them up and down, keeping the pressure light at first. Toji jolted forward hard, a sharp breath could be heard getting inhaled from the man in front of you. "Relax." You said, pressing against his abdomen and pulling him back against you before you brought your attention to his nipples again.

Toji's thighs flexed agaisnt your ankles, his cock twitching hard behind his briefs. You started up the circle motion again this time touching his actual nipples each time you went around. Toji's abs clenched each time you made a full circle, followed by loud gasps and choked groans. He was fighting it. "Toji you can let your voice out. It's hot." You told him before flicking his nipples up and down a little faster, increasing the pressure.

Toji shook his head, his teeth baring the open air as his face was screwed in what would appear to be a pained expression, only he was feeling far from pain right now. "I won't tease you Toji, promise." You said, increasing the pressure once more, virtually giving him no room to fight against it. Toji's hair tickled your skin as his head jerked back and forth against you, his body trying to deal with experiencing such pleasure.

You wet so wet, you didn't know how much more of this you could take. His foreign expressions and reactions were turning you on more than you thought they would. When Toji's teeth separated and his jaw fell open, the first noise that fell out of his mouth was just like the same one you heard all those months ago. "F-fuck!!" Toji groaned, his moans and whines falling freely from his lips now.

Your eyebrows were furrowed in pleasure as you watched him, he looked so hot. "God, it feels good huh?" You asked, not being able to contain your own little noises, only spurring him on. Toji felt mortified, but the pleasure he was feeling helped negate some of that embarrassment. He nodded, before his face scrunched in pleasure, his teeth occasionally baring into the room when you touched his nipples particularly harshly.

"Goddd.... C-cum, g-gonna cum." Toji groaned, doing his best to keep the whines and whimpers down. You stopped when you heard him say that, a lightbulb going off in your head. Toji breathed heavily into the air, his body relaxing against you now that you'd stopped, save for his cock which was twitching with the need for release. "What the fuck... is your problem?" Toji complained, anger seeping into his brain now that you had taken his orgasm away from him.

"Just hold on, think you'll like this a lot better," you said ambiguously, patting your palms over his pecs before you slid out from behind him. Toji looked at you with furrowed brows as you slung your legs over his lap, just under his cock, and pulled down his boxers. His eyes fluttered as his cock was released from the confines of the annoying fabric.

It slapped loudly against his abdomen, his length completely wet with his pre-cum and still dribbling agaisnt his skin. "Though you weren't touchin' my cock?" Toji asked, his voice coming out more desperate and airy than he would've liked. Stradling his cock, you grabbed it with one hand, making him wince, before you reached down and pulled your panties to the side, looking back up at him. "I changed my mind."

Toji watched with wide eyes as you lined his cock up with your entrance. His hands shot out to grab your waist for stability, his hands shaky as they touched you. Toji released a long groan when you slid down on his cock, the stretch made easier thanks to how wet the both of you were. "Holy fuuuuuck, ohmygod you're so fucking warm." Toji groaned, his head tipping back against the headboard now that you weren't behind him.

You released some of your own noises as he split you open, his cock filling you so nicely, just how you wanted. Toji knew he wasn't going to last long like this, but little did he know that's why you did this. Before you were even halfway down on his cock, you reached out for his chest and pinched his nipples harshly, rubbing them between your fingers.

Toji's eyes shot open, his legs curling in on himself as his body jerked, forcing his cock fully inside of you. "F-fuck fuck, w-what are you doing?" Toji asked, panic in his tone as he looked down at you tweaking his nipples. You felt his cock kick against your walls, already ready to spill his seed again. "Though you would like it if I milked your orgasm out of you while I play with your chest." You said smiling, doing your best to keep your words coherent, and even despite how badly you wanted to whine and cry like you normally did on his cock.

Toji groaned at your words as you started bouncing up and down, his cock jamming against your g-spot with every thrust. "F-u-uu-uuck-" He groaned, his body falling limply agaisnt the sheets as you rode him. His jaw went slack and his eyes rolled back repeatedly in his head each time you jumped up and down on him. "G-onna cumm, gonna cum, g-gonna cum-" Toji repeated, his hips weakly fucking up into yours as your fingers raked up and down on his nipples, your nails catching them and making his abs clench each time.

"I know baby I know, can feel you twitchin'. Cum inside me Toji, let it out I got you." You sounded like him when you were cumming, it would've made you giggle if you weren't so enthralled with Toji's actions right now. Usually, when he came, his teeth were pressed firmly together and he let out loud, deep grunts. Now though, his mouth was open, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes fluttered in his head as he was worked up to his orgasm.

Toji was gripping you so hard, you knew instantly you were going to have dark bruises there in the morning. Toji's legs started to spread, and his back arched ever so slightly as you went back to pinching his nipples, rocking back and forth on his cock as you bounced up and down, trying to give him as much stimulation as possible.

"A-ahhh a-ah fuuuuuck- f-ah-" Toji came with a high-pitched whine before his noises turned into groans and grunts as his cock twitched and sprayed his thick cum out inside you. "Keep fillin' me up Toji, feels so g-good fuck." You whined, feeling hot all over as you worked him through his orgasm, your tight walls milking his cock.

His balls throbbed with his release, his seed getting fucked so deep inside you thanks to the angle. His orgasm seemed to last longer than normal, probably thanks to your fingers on his chest. His abs spasmed and jerked inward with his high, his head shaking back and forth against the sheets. "St-hahhh." Toji tried to tell you to stop when he felt you fucking him into overstimulation, but his words failed to find him.

Immediately you stopped, keeping his cock snug inside your walls as you finally ceased your attack on his chest. Leaning forward you grabbed his face with your hands, cradling him as you started pressing kisses all over his cheeks, eyelids, forehead, anywhere your lips could reach.

"Toji, thank you Toji, thank you thank you thank youuuu." You repeated softly between kisses. Toji was still basking in the aftershocks of his orgasm, his arms leaving your hips to wrap tightly around your body, keeping you flush against him. "Are you okay? Wasn't too much right?" You asked, pulling back to look at his face. Toji's eyes were glossy and all out of focus, and his face was flushed red and dripping with sweat, and still, he had the audacity to look at you and say, "I'm fine. I'm not a baby like you."

You jerked your head back in surprise, your jaw falling open at his words. You just fucked him dumb and he still had the energy to be a bitch? Tsking at him you gripped his cheeks, making his lips pursed together like a fish as you shook his head back and forth. "You sure sounded like one a minute ago." You spat back, squinting your eyes at him.

You swear you saw Toji's eye twitch before your head was pressed harshly into the crook of his neck, his large hand firmly on the back of your head. "Bitch. Said you wouldn't bring that shit up." Toji pouted, feeling his face heat up at your words. You snorted before biting his neck teasingly, feeling his body harden underneath you at the action.

"You lie all the time, I can do it too." You said, wrapping your arms around his neck. Toji shook his head, feeling himself soften inside your walls. He knew you said you would let him throatfuck you after this, but honestly, Toji didn't know if he had anything left to give you. He was sure you had taken every last drop of his cum from his balls just moments ago.

"Brat. Happy birthday, hope you enjoyed yourself." Toji said, closing his eyes as he released his hand from your head, wrapping his arms around you once more. "I did, I did very much." You answered, feeling extremely satisfied and content when Toji sighed loudly at your words, his breath tickling the back of your neck.

3K notes · View notes

februarys-wednesday · 1 year

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i like the idea that bruce just shows up to league meetings with his birds with absolutely no explanation offered

i mean this man frequently stalks his coworkers and knows everything that's happening in their personal lives and i think he'd forget that HE is the weird one for doing it and not everybody automatically knows when he's acquired a new child

so he just shows up at the watchtower with a new bird and literally says nothing about it . just sits at his chair with the latest robin standing next to him and literally doesn't acknowledge that anything is different and it gets even more confusing when they change their costumes and names 😭

20-something bruce: and containing this may be a matter of-flash did you have a question

barry: uh. yeah. sorry, what is that?

20-something bruce: (glancing at 9 yr old dick who has been next to him for 45 minutes) that's robin. obviously. as i was saying,

early 30s bruce, who hasn't shown up with a robin for a few years, entering with a nightwing and a jason todd robin:

barry:

diana:

hal:

j'onn:

bruce: what.

hal:

hal: do you like clone them or

mid 30s bruce, quietly talking with a clearly-not-sixteen-years-old robin in the corner after being without one for two years:

hal:

diana:

barry:

j'onn:

clark:

bruce:

tim:

bruce: this one followed me

late 30s bruce zeta-beaming in with a nightwing, a slightly older robin, and an absolutely BUILT man in a red hood:

barry: did you hire a bodyguard

bruce: no.

barry: whos mr red over there

bruce: you don't remember my second one???

barry:

hal:

diana:

j'onn:

clark:

barry: did. did that one not die

jason: got better

later 30s bruce, quietly showing around a blonde robin:

hal:

bruce: don't ask.

hal: i didn't say anything

40 yr old bruce, making intense, unbroken eye contact with a black shadow:

clark, leaning over to talk to tim: what are they doing

tim, not looking up from his fancy ipad: do i look like i know that

red robin popping in unnanounced in the middle of a league meeting: batman is alive.

barry: who the FUCK are you???

batman, some minutes later, trailed by what is CLEARLY a new robin: did red robin happen to pass through here????

barry: i have several questions

no-longer-lost-in-the-time-stream bruce, talking to batgirl, black bat, and the signal:

hal: did you get three more.

bruce: no. just one.

hal: i shouldn't have asked, my bad

mid 40s bruce wayne, stepping out of the zeta tube: sorry i'm late

diana: not to worry. let's get start-

bruce: i have a few more coming behind me

zeta tube: 🌀🌀🌀

jason: hi

cass: 👋

diana:

diana: ok should we st-

zeta tube: 🌀🌀🌀

dick, holding damian like a scowling, sopping wet cat: bruce he's not feeling polite today

damian: HISSS

bruce: okay does he need to go back?

dick: he said he's fine but hes just not feeling polite

diana:

diana: is that the las-

zeta tube: 🌀🌀🌀

steph: b i need a hair tie

diana:

diana: so can-

zeta tube: 🌀🌀🌀

duke: b did i miss rolecall

diana: no, signal, you did not. let's-

zeta tube: 🌀🌀🌀

tim: b alf is mad at you

bruce: why

hal: it's like a fucking clown car

steph: you didn't eat breakfast

tim: you didn't eat breakfast either

steph: shut.

damian: HISSSS

jason: wing. if you do not keep that brat quiet-

dick: hes a BABY!!!!!

duke: you didn't eat breakfast either, timothy

jason: hes a BITCH!!!!!

tim: who the fuck told you????

cass: :)

hal: (storming off, in tears), YOU HAVE TOO MANY CHILDREN.

23K notes · View notes

ghoulbrain · 26 days

Text

Saddle Up, Sweetheart

18+ 3k ghoul x f!reader. cunnilingus/face sitting, overstim, pet names, clothed/naked sex, creampie. gif credit. prompt list. written for this ask. thank you! 🖤

The Ghoul—Cooper, as you know him now—does not make himself an easy man to get to know. He was harsh with you from the start, one of the crankiest old bastards you’ve ever met. An accomplishment, given your life in the slums. He’s dismissive, angry that you even want to know him, and downright mean most days.

And yet you became fascinated with him.

It was ages before you were able to hold decent conversations, and longer than that before you had a name for him. Still, you keep digging. He intrigues you more than anyone else ever has, and despite his sour attitude, he keeps coming back.

"You won't like what y'find," he told you one day. You knew then you were wearing him down with your persistence.

"What scares you more: the idea that I won't, or the possibility that I will?" You'd asked.

He laughed. "Y'don't scare me, sugar."

You smiled. "Maybe I should."

Cooper started to look at you differently from then on. There had been a sense before that he was observing you as something ephemeral, a flower bud he was waiting to see bloom and die away as quickly as you'd appeared.

Once you made it clear you weren't going anywhere, the invisible walls between you began to fall away. You feel his gaze lingering on you when he thinks you aren't paying attention. You watch him in turn, holding his gaze whenever he catches you.

"Eye contact like that'll get'cha killed someday. Predators take it as a challenge," he tells you, adjusting the holster on his thigh.

"Is that what you are?" You ask from where you’re leaning against the wall, arms crossed. You raise your brow, inured to his broody one-liners. "A predator?"

To your surprise, he's the one who closes the distance this time. His footfalls are heavy, his swagger loose. He looms over you, bracing his forearm on the wall behind you. Your heart skips a beat. He rarely ever gets so close.

"I'm the worst kind there is," he says gravely, but you clock his tone for what it is. He's toying with you.

Undeterred, you square your shoulders. "And what kind is that?"

He leans in closer, smelling of oil and gunpowder. "A hungry one," he says, the heat of his breath ghosting your cheek.

Pushing you away hasn't turned you against him. Cornering you won't either. Despite his insistence to the contrary, you're no prey animal. "Well then... I s'pose you ought to have something to eat."

His radiation scarred lips spread slowly into a wicked smile. "Y'offering, sweetcheeks?" He asks, his yellowed teeth parted, poised to take a bite.

You swallow dryly, so keenly aware of the thundering of your own heart, you wonder if he can hear it, too. You tip your head back, jutting your chin out and bringing your lips closer to his.

"You don't scare me, Coop," you whisper, wielding his name like a secret weapon.

He hums, head tilting slowly while his gaze moves down your body in a leisurely calculating sweep. "Well..." He drawls, voice a low rumble from his chest. "Maybe I should."

You're ready for him to do as he's always done and leave you like that, to rile you up and then act as though it was all in your head. You've accepted that Cooper is a man on the run, and he hasn't seen anything in you worth stopping for.

The press of his lips against yours shocks you to your core.

Your arms uncross, hands fumbling to catch hold of his jacket, grabbing him before he can vanish. He responds in kind, cupping your face in the soft worn down leather of his gloves. Your pulse is all the way up in your throat, so wild you’re sure he can taste it when he slips his tongue into your mouth.

His touch isn’t a gradual thing. He’s upon you all at once, forcing your thighs apart with his knee and slotting his thigh between yours, pressing into you until you start to sing for him, those breathy little noises muffled by his devouring kiss. At your hip, you feel the press of his cock gradually filling out beneath the layers of clothing between you.

After so long without meaningful touch, the onslaught is dizzying. You roll your hips, grinding down on his thigh until you feel your underwear clinging wetly to your skin, an exquisite shiver trilling up and down your spine. His lips feel textured and hardened by his condition, but his tongue is hot and smooth, persistently licking into your mouth, determined to feel, to taste.

That hunger drives him from your lips to your jaw, your throat, peppering rough kisses that are as much lips as they are teeth along your neck. “S’your last chance, darlin’. Point of no return,” he tells you, voice coarse. His hand slips between your bodies and starts working your pants open. “Won’t be no comin’ back from this. I’ll ruin you.”

That he would have the audacity to warn you away from the door like this after you’ve been knocking and knocking and knocking is almost laughable. You would laugh if you had enough air in your lungs, but he’s kissed it out of you.

“So ruin me,” you tell him breathlessly. He grazes his teeth over your pulse-point in a way that makes your voice hitch. “I want you.”

The rim of his hat brushes your cheek as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, making a raw noise against your skin. “God damn it,” he says, yanking you from the wall so sharply you gasp. He whirls you around, hands fisted in your shirt, kissing you hard while he walks you backwards, towards the noisy heap of springs and fabric you call a bed.

“Y’outta your fuckin’ mind for that,” he grouses, shoving your pants down off your hips. You don’t disagree, You know how terrifying he should be, what his affliction does to him, to his hunger, but you don’t care. Not when he’s kissing life back into your dull dusty life at the end of the world.

You’re naked by the time he pushes you down onto the bed, standing above you, sunken eyes black with fervor. He unclips the bullet belt strapped across his chest and shrugs out of his coat, tosses his hat up somewhere high on the bed. You start to crawl backwards, but he snatches your ankle and drags you right back to the very edge of the bed.

“Unbuckle me,” he orders, the words all throaty feverish heat that makes your clit throb. You do, eyes flipping back and forth from him to his belt. He watches you all the while, pulling off his gloves with his teeth, dropping them to the ground. You unbutton his pants next, hands so eager they fumble briefly before you make it to his zipper, the hiss of it coming undone drowned out by the thunder of your pulse in your own ears.

Before you get any further, Cooper catches your wrists and hauls you up to your feet, spinning you around and pulling you down over top of him on the bed. He keeps you steady while you straddle his waist, moving his hands from your wrists to your hips. You start to move back, but he cups your ass and pulls you in the opposite direction.

“Saddle up, sweetheart,” he says, licking his lips. “Y’said for me to have somethin’ t’eat. I intend to.”

Oh fuck.

Nodding hazily, you follow his lead until your knees are on either side of his head, your hands braced on the wall behind your bed.

“C’mon now, relax,” he coaxes, urging you down with his grip on your thighs. You settle most of the way down before he yanks you the rest of it, startling a noise out of you that transitions into a low moan at the molten wet slide of his tongue dragging from the bottom of your pussy to your clit, upon which his lips close down and suck.

The sensation is leagues beyond the amateurish grinding, but that session still left you sensitized. The heat of his mouth is so intense it almost burns. His tongue feels just as unreal, thick and dexterous in the way it works you, swirling repetitive patterns on your clit. He drinks from you like you’re an oasis in the desert, swallowing greedy gulps before sinking his tongue into you, fucking it in and out, coaxing more and more thirst quenching wetness from you.

“Ffffuck, oh my God,” you moan, your hands curling into fists on the wall, sliding until your forearms are braced against it instead, your head hanging between them. You wish you had something to grip, something to dig your nails into as his devil’s tongue builds hot pressure inside of you, swelling sensation toward an inevitable explosion.

Cooper is shameless beneath you, devouring without care for mess or noise. Every so often you feel the graze of his teeth and you buck away from him, but you’re no match for his strength and he keeps you held firmly down, wholly at his mercy despite your positions.

Once he’s satisfied that you’re not going to try and escape anymore, he relinquishes his hold on your hip and brings his fingers between your thighs, teasing where you’re wettest with the tip of his finger. With the way he’s sucking your clit you barely notice the initial touch, but he quickly wrings a gasp out of you by sinking his finger in all the way to the knuckle, crooking it wickedly while he rocks it in and out.

It’s simultaneously too much and not enough. He walks you on the knife’s edge of your climax, deftly toeing the line with every slow stroke of his finger and swipe of his tongue. Your stomach clenches up with it, breath catching. He pushes in a second finger, and by the time you feel the third working you open, your legs are shaking uncontrollably. He is feasting on you, humming appreciative little noises between the wet sounds of him eating you out.

A sudden jarring slap to your ass makes your quivering thighs tense up and startles a loud moan out of you. He most definitely smiles against you, fucking you steadily with his fingers.

“You son of a bitch,” you manage to choke out, tears prickling at your eyes from the sheer overwhelm of it all, your breaths growing sharper, more shallow. “I should smother you,” you say, the threat dulled by the thinness of your voice.

He smacks your ass again, harder this time. You decide that’s encouragement to do just that and grind down against his mouth, eagerly meeting every thrust of his fingers until one last good slap tips you over the edge, your orgasm striking you like a bolt of lightning. Your whole body goes tense, and Cooper ruthlessly fucks and licks you through it, sucking on your clit as it pulses and pulses and pulses through what feels like the longest climax of your life.

“Enough,” you moan weakly, pushing yourself from the wall on trembling arms. His fingers have slipped free, but he’s still drinking you down, holding your thighs in a vice grip. You can’t stop shaking, the burn of pleasure beginning to feel like the most exquisite pain. “C-Coop, enough, I can’t–you fucker,” you gasp, jolting in his grip when he nips at your clit.

He finally lets you up, easing you down with two hands firmly on your ass. You slide back until you’re straddling his waist, hands braced on his chest while you catch your breath. He doesn’t give you much time, knocking you down into his lap as he sits up. He takes your face in his hands and kisses your own taste into your mouth, giving a throaty little rumble.

“I decide when you’ve had enough,” he says, dropping one hand to work his cock free from his undone pants. “And you’ll remember that you asked for it.”

Each word feels like a spark of electricity. You lift yourself on trembling knees, hands on his shoulders, and he puts his arm around you, drawing you in while you sink down until you feel the thick head of his cock–wet with his own precum–nudging against your spit-soaked pussy.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Show me how good you can take me.” You can hear the restraint in his voice, feel it in the thrum of his touch. You hold his gaze while his cock forces you open in one smooth, frictionless slide, the stretch a dull ache that rapidly ascends into pleasure. He lets you adjust a moment or so before he begins to move, holding your hips steady while he rocks his own, reclining down onto his back.

“Don’t you hold out on me,” you tell him through a shuddered breath, hands behind you, braced on his thighs. “You promised me ruin.”

As sharply as he’d slapped your ass, Cooper gives a hard thrust up, his dull nails biting crescents into your skin, his grip all that keeps you from losing your balance. “One taste and y’already damn spoiled,” he says, planting his boots on your bed–you’ll give him shit for that later–and picking up a brutal pace almost immediately. “C’mon then, sweetheart. Ride me.”

You have no choice but to comply, grabbing hold of what you can of his shirt while he bucks hard under you. Every thrust sparks inside you like the strike of a match, your cunt still sensitive. You can already feel yourself climbing towards another peak. You arch your back, watching him through the haze of your own pleasure. His eyes are dark, his teeth bared. He looks like something wild, like something ready to bite.

“Goddamn, that’s it, y’squeezin’ me fuckin’ good now,” he groans, tipping his head back, watching you bounce on his cock through heavily lidded eyes. “Give it up for me, pretty girl. Show me this is really what you want,” he rambles, his accent growing thicker the closer he gets. You nod along, panting wordlessly, his thrusts knocking sweet little keening noises from your throat. “Go on now, that’s it. Show me how it feels when I make you cum.”

The world around you goes black just before an eruption of white explodes behind your eyelids like stars, your whole body stilling to endure the overwhelming crash of your release, the shock of it rolling out in waves throughout your entire body. You don’t speak, you don’t even breathe, too struck by the magnitude of it.

Cooper fucks you through every second of it, slurring a litany of feverish nonsense–your name sprinkled within it–until he breaks off into a choked off noise, and in the middle of your euphoria you feel a the rush of his release spilling deep inside you, his body finally stilling under yours.

You sink down onto his chest, panting against the collar of his shirt. He moves his hand along your back, and a distant part of you is caught off guard by how tenderly he sweeps his fingers up the back of your neck. You answer in kind by slipping your fingers just under his collar, fingertips brushing bare skin that’s as gnarled as the rest of him.

The two of you sit in silence for a long while, neither of you willing to break the spell of your afterglow. The entire world feels softer in it, the dull sepia of it tinged with hints of gold. The dust particles floating around you almost seem to sparkle. In any other moment, you’d scold yourself for romanticizing the rotten remains of a dead world that has been so cruel to you, but for just this moment, you let yourself believe that things can be beautiful, too.

You lose yourself to the warmth of his body beneath yours, and the gentle way he traces the slopes of your body with his fingertips. Eventually, Cooper cleans his throat. You ignore it, reluctant to acknowledge him. You know once you do, the moment will be over.

“Y’might wanna get situated with a pack of Radaway soon,” he murmurs, the twang of his voice still heavier than usual.

Tucked into the crook of his neck, you smile while he still can’t see you, endeared. “I’ve had worse exposures.”

“I find that hard t’believe,” he says, cupping the back of your neck in his palm. His thumb strokes absently back and forth. You can almost believe he’s dragging out these last few moments together, too.

Lifting yourself, you brace your forearms on his chest, staring down at him. His expression is difficult to parse–while there is most definitely a sense of ease you don’t normally associate with him, there’s also a profound sadness.

Your brows furrow. “What?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he moves his hand from your neck to your cheek, swiping his thumb along the ridge of it. You lean into his touch, ready to ask again, when he makes a grab for his hat and places it firmly on your head, obscuring your vision.

“That was some fine ridin’, sweetheart,” he says, voice as coarse and sweet as raw sugar.

You push the brim up until you can see him again, failing to bite back a smile. “Guess I’m the sheriff ‘round these parts now.”

“I ain’t a sheriff," he says flatly, though the slight tic at the corner of his mouth gives away his amusement.

“That’s right, y’ain’t. ‘Cause I am,” you say in your best impression of him, tipping his hat at him.

He blows out a breath and tugs the rim back down over your eyes. “Whatever you say, sweetcheeks,” he says, and though you can’t see him, you’re certain you can hear the smile in his voice.

Today may never happen again. The world could end tomorrow–again–or Cooper could walk off into the Wastes for the very last time. If you’ve learned anything in this world, it’s that nothing lasts forever. So, you drop your head back down and listen to the beat of his heart, using it to count the moments as they pass.

If they’re gonna be the best you get, you’d like to know how many of them you have.

#the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x reader #fallout fanfic #fallout #x reader #x reader smut #my writing #smut

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rizsu · 8 months

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ex-husband!gojo, who wakes up every morning to his disappointment. it's been well over a couple months, yet he still extends his arm to feel for you.

ex-husband!gojo, who still has your contact saved as his main emergency contact. he uses this to his advantage— ringing your phone with the excuse of being "too drunk to drive." it works. he isn't exactly high off his brain, but he has alcohol in his system.

ex-husband!gojo, who happened to spot you with another man. who is he? is he your friend? your lover? perhaps you met after the divorce? whatever the status is, it doesn't help to soothe his jealousy. it's not like he can walk up to you — you might issue a restraining order against him.

ex-husband!gojo, who finds himself at your doorstep. it's late, storming, and you're probably asleep. he doesn't move. mind set in chaos as he ponders whether he should leave or ring the bell. he wants to see you, but the look of disgust he might receive is something he isn't ready to face.

ex-husband!gojo, who's shocked that you opened the door. he didn't ring the bell. were you already there? probably. his throat ran dry, unable to speak a word. you're leaning on the door's frame, arms crossed as you tilt your head. "you need something, gojo?" you asked, not willing to receive an answer.

"can i — can i come in?" he stutters, a little shocked at the use of his surname. the little sparkle of hope that you continue using his first name has been dusted.

ex-husband!gojo, who's fidgety in your home. your silence isn't helping him relax. hell, he hasn't known relaxation ever since the divorce. "help yourself to the kitchen. sleep wherever, i'm going back to bed," your voice held no volume of softness. it was as if you were but a stranger, yet he refuses to let you become one.

"then, may i sleep in your room? on the floor, of course," he's hesitant with his request, deciding it's best to justify himself, "i don't know my way around this house."

ex-husband!gojo, who's yet again stunned that you allowed him in your room — let alone your bed. now he's as still as a stick, unable to fall asleep due to his itching urge to pull you into him. you're most likely sound asleep, uncaring to the man you once called your husband.

ex-husband!gojo, who calls out to you, keeping his voice low as he speaks, "can we talk?"

you replied to him, voice still holding its tone of harshness, "what is there to talk about?"

"anything. how's life been for you?" he keeps his speech short, afraid of annoying you. it's a little late for that, however. you're already annoyed by the attempt of useless talks. "just get to the point, gojo."

and so he follows, sighing before he reveals his intentions, "i fucking missed you, that's all."

ex-husband!gojo, who's surprised when you sat up. although your room holds no light due to the black-out curtains, his eyes adjusted to its darkness, being able to see your every feature. your face, hands, neck, collarbone, chest — everything. he misses being able to run his hands through your body ever-so lovingly. when you lowered yourself right above his face, his eyes kept your gaze. your jaw's clenched. why does he look as if he lost everything? wasn't the divorce mutual?

ex-husband!gojo, who's rendered speechless when your voice cracked. he didn't expect it, nor did he expect you to say what you did. "i missed you, too." did you really miss him? he feels as though he's being lied to. raising a hand to cup your cheek, he shares his words, "really? then why not act on it if you're not lying?"

ex-husband!gojo, who happily accepts your kiss, moving his hand from your cheek to your nape. softly pushing you closer to himself — and to deepen the kiss. it's soft but rough. passionate but seeping with hatred. it's everything at once. you're pulling at his hair, purposefully tugging it as if you're using it to distract yourself from the escaping emotions. he's the same. using his other hand to travel along the junction of your neck and shoulder, squeezing it each time he feels to let the tears flow.

#+ rizsu: jujutsu kaisen.#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo angst #gojo satoru headcanons #jjk headcanons

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luvrxbunny · 8 months

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little spider

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

Prompt: Innocence

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader knows nothing about sex or feelings of arousal, clothed clit-rubbing? cum in pants, small feelings of embarrassment (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 3.3k

A/N: sorry im late but im kinda proud of this one so i hope it was worth the wait! <3

Miguel didn’t think he’d end up in this position, nowhere in his wildest, most perverted fantasies did he think that this would actually be the outcome of him recruiting you but… here we are.

You were assigned by the higher-ups to learn from him, they thought you had potential, and honestly? Miguel hated you when he met you, he felt like they were punishing him for something, that assigning him this raw recruit was just a flaunt of power. You didn't even have a suit he had to make you one, a trial suit first, to make sure all your vitals were good, to track your movements and decide what suit material would be best- or if you would have a digital one like him.

During the weeks of his monitoring of your vitals, he began to grow a bit fond of you. You were an adorable recruit and eager to please, you were thoughtful and always gave your all, something he really appreciates. One other thing he noticed about you… your dopamine levels were elevated around him, along with your estradiol and testosterone. He ignores it when he’s writing his reports, he tells himself that he doesn’t report it because the higher-ups don't need to know, not because he knows they’d make you transfer… He should’ve requested it the first time he noticed it but the thought of you, his sweet, innocent spider, all turned on just from being around him? It ignited something in him.

He updated your suit, saying that the data he was receiving wasn't enough, he made you wear the suit as he replaced the chip and tried to hide the smile in his voice when your spine straightened under his touch. The new chip could give him real-time tracking of all your vitals, but he set his watch to alert him anytime certain hormones spiked… estradiol and testosterone. So he conducted a little experiment over the following weeks, he’d lean into you more when you speak, holding your eye contact, he even broke out the smirk he used to use on girls when he was younger, and it worked on you.

His watch vibrated every time he was near you, if he walked up to you, it started being an alert to when you were near, it’d go off before you’ve even approached him, he’d walk into a room and it’d go off before he even saw you. It started to have an effect on him, he started to feel a spark in his stomach every time it went off, every time he’d meet your eyes and you’d have that expression he’d grown to know so well. That weak, almost pleading- yet confused look in your eyes and the sheer panic before tearing them away from his. He started having to grip whatever was in his hands as tightly as he could to control himself when you’re breathing would stutter after he complimented you on your work.

He started getting hard reviewing your logs after spending the day with you, watching your heart rate stay elevated, spiking along with your hormones, he can see your breathing pattern, and how irregular it is compared to when you’re not with him. How high your body temperature was… the main areas of heat. On his more weak days, he’s gotten himself off to the diagram of you, with the burning red spot between your legs as the focus of his fantasies.

Now you’re here, avoiding his gaze as his watch vibrates like crazy. “Miguel?” He looks at you again, trying to keep his gaze neutral, hopefully, to make this a bit easier on you… and him. “Yes?”

His voice is smooth as cocoa butter and you can feel his gaze burning into you. He started this heat inside you, one you’d never encountered before. It starts when you see him in the morning and doesn’t stop until you struggle to sleep- or at least it used to. But recently it’s been non-stop, a constant distraction that you can’t pinpoint, it feels like it’s in your hips, stomach, chest, and thighs all at once. It feels like it’s in his breath when it fans over your face, it's in his eyes when they lock with yours, and somehow on his fingertips when they brush over any part of you. You’ve spent hours a night trying to figure out what you can do about it, you’ve thought about even asking Lyla but decided the risk of her telling Miguel was far too great.

This past week it’s just been building on it’s self, almost unbearable with Miguel’s new immersive training. He takes you away to some deserted, closed-off place and trains you with no distractions, giving you nothing to focus on other than him and forcing him to give all his attention to you. Miguel’s attention, his gaze is what causes the most… pain. That’s what it’s become, a dull, numb, thrumming at the base of your stomach, like an itch you can’t scratch that just becomes a nuisance. You couldn’t handle it anymore and if you asked Lyla she’d just tell Miguel- so why not just ask him directly?

So here you are, avoiding his gaze because you’ve spent the entire day with him, building enough fire inside you- you don’t need to add any more. “I think…” You take a breath and turn to him a bit before forcing the words out. “There’s something wrong with me.” He puts his clipboard down, his concern, and his thick, veiny hand that comes into view piles onto the heat over-taking your bloodstream. He takes his glasses off and sits back in his chair, reaching his leg out to pull a chair beside you closer to him. You dare a glance at him and try not to collapse at his gaze, at the way his hair moves over his face for a moment as he motions for you to sit in the provided chair.

You sigh and sit down, your legs pressed tightly together, your palms resting on your thighs and your eyes focused on the back of your hands. You stay silent, your mind racing, your body warming further at the feeling of his eyes on you. “What’s wrong, little spider?” You suppress a shiver at the nickname as goosebumps rise over your skin, it’s been a problem since he picked it. “I’m hot.” The words shoot out of your mouth before you can second-guess them again. Miguel chuckles a bit, sending embarrassment through your body, sits back in his chair, and crosses his arms, prompting you to go on.

“I can’t fix it. There’s… someone.” Miguel pretends he doesn’t notice the way your eyes flicker to him. “For some reason, something about them just- “ You pause for a moment, truly baffled by the way you feel, trying to find some way to explain it. “They just do something to me and it won’t stop.” Your words start to sound frantic, a bit panicked. Miguel leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees to examine your expression. “It’s like there's a low- like a low vibration- or a frequency? Like the ones that are so low you can barely hear but you can sorta feel them? It’s like that but- but deep inside me.”

Your eyes close and eyebrows furrow as you describe the feeling to him. He tries to keep his breathing even as he hardens uncontrollably under the suit. You don’t even realize what you’re confessing to him. “Like it’s in my bones, Miguel.” You add emphasis, your hands digging into the material of your suit before raising your head to meet his eyes, hoping he understands the state you’re in. He’s almost dizzy at the way his blood rushes to his cock. He holds your gaze and tries to convey a baffled, thoughtful expression as he tries to calm himself.

“That’s- That’s odd. Yeah, um.” He takes a few deep breaths before sitting back again, unable to stay in your space any longer. “Do- Can you tell me who’s causing it? Perhaps it’s a side effect of their powers?” Your spine straightens and you shake your head at him gently. You twist your fingers in the fabric of your suit and your feet play with each other on the lab floor. “H-have you heard of any powers like that?” You ask him, a hopeful look in your eyes.

Clever girl.

“No, I haven't.” He sits back, spreads his legs, and runs his hands down his thighs and back with a sigh. He holds back a smirk when his watch vibrates and he hears you take a sharp breath. “I- I don’t know what to do anymore. It- I can barely sleep.” You sound distraught, broken, and tired. He’d be the messed up one if he didn't help you… Right?

“I mean… I can try running some tests?” He offers, he keeps his tone light, trying to keep his dark desires off your radar. You perk up at his offer, already up and out of your seat, standing in front of him with a smile. He keeps his eyes on you, trying to ignore the way your scent is assaulting his nose, giving away how badly you need him. “You think we could?”

He nods and stands up, walking over to his lab table and clearing a few things. His head is already running wild with fantasies, ideas of what he could do to you, what he could teach you, how good he could make you feel. “Yeah, of course. C’mere, pequeña araña” You were already walking to him but your pace stutters and his watch vibrates when the nickname slips out. He truly didn’t mean to, he had gotten a bit too deep in his fantasies, and when your voice broke through he didn’t get fully pulled out. He’s never called you that in Spanish, not to your face at least, it’s fallen from his lips a few times before though, when he’s alone with his hand wrapped around his cock. But your reaction dissuades any fear that had shot through him before and he can’t help the smirk that makes its way on his face.

You’re standing silently beside him, wringing your hands together and he doesn’t think you even notice the way your thighs keep clenching together. “Get on the table.” His tone is teasing, a grin on his face as you jump and scramble onto the tabletop. You lay on your back and look over at Miguel, feeling that heat rage through you at the look on his face. It’s dark and- wanting. It’s confusing.

He takes a deep breath and your fingers try to dig into the metal table top as he walks to you. “Okay. I’m going to examine your body a bit, press into some muscles, some pressure points to see if maybe it’s a physical trigger. Is that okay with you?” Your chest is already rising and falling more rapidly at the thought, the promise of Miguel’s hands on you. You nod at him stiffly, trying to stay normal and calm as he holds your eye contact, nodding along with you. A small smile graces his face before he walks around and presses his palm into your hairline, pushing your head down to rest on the table as he stands north of you.

His hands press into your shoulders and your eyes shut tight. He can feel all your muscles tense and his watch vibrates, he sneaks a peak at his and sees the huge spike in almost all your vitals. His cock twitches in his suit at your obvious need but he brushes it aside, if he rushes into this he might scare you off and he doesn’t know what he’ll do if that happens. He may lose his mind. He moves his hands to your biceps, massaging them tightly as little whines slip into your breaths, only audible to his ears.

He walks back to the side of the tables and your eyes stay shut. He massages the softness of your sides and his breathing kicks up a bit once he gets to your hips. He takes his time with them, admiring the way you fit into his hands and how you subconsciously tilt them toward him. His thighs jump as his cock begins to leak, dripping precum down them. He takes a deep, shaky breath and forces himself to move on. He forced himself to move on, he was trying to take it slow, hopefully, you’d realize where you need him and ask for it. But your thighs spread open when he massages the outside and his hands dive for the inner before he can think it through.

You gasp, you sit up with your eyes wide and your hands gripping his wrists. You don’t do anything though, he expects you to pull his hands away but it feels more like you’re holding him there, stopping- or attempting to stop him from pulling away. So of course he doesn't. He stares into your eyes as you search his, trying to figure out if he realizes the way that made you feel, if your cover was blown, if he wants to stop but he looks expectant, like he’s waiting for something. So you loosen your grip. “That’s- I think that’s- ” You’re nodding at him lightly, hoping he understands what you’re trying to say because for some reason your brain has stopped working.

“Yeah?” Your heart stutters at his tone and the tilt of his head as he says it. Your thighs tense around his hand for a moment before you try to calm down, un-tense them but they can’t help the way they tremble with anticipation. You’re nodding at him more frantically and his eyelids flutter. “Okay.” He takes one hand out from between your thighs and rests it on your lower back as his other hand keeps massaging, slowly moving up your inner thigh and the sensations grow more intense the higher he gets.

Your eyes shut and your hands grip his wrists again, not pulling away, just holding him. Your eyes shut and your hips tilt into his hand, getting him so close to your pussy that he can feel the heat radiating off of her. You feel some sort of shame twinge in your belly, dampening the more intense feelings that Miguel was causing. What if this was wrong? What if you aren’t supposed to feel like this with him, without him knowing… Maybe you should stop.

Miguel moves further up and all those thoughts scatter from your head immediately. His watch vibrates again and a noise shoots out of your mouth- one you’ve never heard before as your body folds over and your head rests on his shoulder. You shut your eyes tight and take a slow, deep breath. “Sorry. Sorry, I-” He cuts you off. “It’s okay. That’s why I’m here, right?” He’s nodding at you, comforting and reassuring as his hand leaves your back to cradle your head. “You’re okay. I wanna help you, cariño.” Another noise leaves you at the nickname and his hand grips into your hair for a moment before sliding down to your neck and pulls your head away from his shoulder. He pushes your head against his for a moment, letting out a soft groan before letting go and pushing his fingers against your plush lips.

“How’s that, honey?” His hand settles back on your lower back as you whine and your hands move up his arm, gripping his biceps now and pulling yourself closer to him. “Miguel.” His eyes roll back at how you sound, desperate, breathless, and gone. Your hips are grinding into his fingers and they aren’t even on your clit yet. They’re pressing against your hole through your lips and your suit, he’s keeping his fingertips flat against you so he doesn’t slip inside.

He’s trying to ignore the mess he’s making in his pants, watching your tense face change into a relieved one, your eyebrows pulling inward as your lips part beautifully, releasing a shaky moan as he reangles his fingers to your clit. His hands are shaking as he tries to calm himself down, one of your hands slides up his arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake before gripping onto his shoulder and pulling him down, closer to your face. His eyes are fixed on your expression, taking everything in, every twitch and quiver, the way your tongue darts out to lick your lips before a whimper punches out of you.

You’re ruining him and you’re none the wiser. Your hand slides up to his neck and you push your forehead against his, like he did earlier. His eyes roll back before he forces them to you again, moving his fingers over you clit faster when your thighs begin to shake around his wrist. “I think-” Your voice comes out as a whimper and he groans into you. Your fingers grip into his hair and his cock cries against him. “Something… Miguel.”

The way you say his name fucks with him. It’s prettier than he ever could’ve imagined, he has to lean forward and press his throbbing cock against the edge of the table for relief. You’ve got him feeling like he could die, like he could implode if he doesn’t have you, if after this you realize what you need but get it somewhere else? It’ll be over for him. Your hand readjusts its grip in his hair, becoming more frantic as your spine straightens and your thighs close on his hands. “Miguel? I-” You cut yourself off with a moan and your head falls to his shoulder again, blocking your face from his view.

“No, no.” He brings his hand to the back of your neck again. “Let me see, amor.” He pulls you away from his shoulder and you moan at the nickname. Once again, it didn’t mean to slip out but you’ve got his head so cloudy he can’t help it. You’re moaning his name on repeat, like a warning and he’s pulsing at the thought, the promise of getting to see you cum, for him. His eyes can’t look away from you, he can’t see anything but your face, the way your brows furrow as you tense, and your nails dig into his arms, leaving reminders for later. He watches how you bite your lip before your jaw drops into an ‘O’ shape and his name falls from your lips one more time as a debauched cry.

He keeps his eyes open, watching you cum for him, how your lips form around his name again and again. He wants to collapse, fall to his knees with how much you’re turning him on but he needs to watch you. He forces himself to keep his eyes on you, ignoring the way they want to roll back at how he’s flooding his pants. His hips twitch against the edge of the table as he cums for you, with you. His mind zeros into the way he can feel your clit pulsing underneath his finger tips, how breathless you sound, trying to keep up with the noises he’s forcing from you. His stomach tenses painfully as his cock unloads more cum onto himself. You sound like an angel, crying out for him. He can’t help the way he dives for you, pulling you in to kiss him and swallowing every moan you’ll give him.

You whine into his mouth as his fingers slow down over your clit, your other hand meets the first in his hair and you keep his lips on yours. He keeps kissing you until you calm down and your breathing evens out. His hand comes from between your thighs and rubs your legs until you pull back from his lips. You have a bashful, embarrassed look on your face and it brings the largest smile that you’ve ever seen to his face. “Was that okay, pequeña araña?” You whine and pull him in for a hug, nodding into his shoulder as he chuckles and wraps his arms around you as you begin to giggle against him.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

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