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kneelingshadowsalome · 10 months

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I Never Missed You 1/3 (Bodyguard!Ghost x F!Reader)

Word count: 3.5 k

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Romance, eventual smut, fluff, light angst, banter, pining, flirting, minor injuries, major character death, HFN ending. Lady/Knight dynamic. Unequal pairing trope. Bodyguard AU. Reader is a rich bitch (how else could she afford a PPO?)

Summary: 1/3 You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.

A/N: A three part fic based on this request. The first chapter features banter and pining. If you're here for smut, stay tuned. There is an entire chapter of it coming right up.

Your lawyer says it would be a good idea. He even dares to look at you from under his brow like you're a child who doesn't know what's good for her.

And you don't.

Because that's exactly how you feel like: a grown woman who's stunted to a kid, now being supervised by adults.

The bodyguard they assigned you - the one you accepted because he was your lawyer's first choice - is exactly the broad, brooding type you have always imagined bodyguards to be like.

But he's not wearing sunglasses, and he's not wearing a suit. He says the point of a bodyguard is that they don't look like a bodyguard.

The first thing you actually pay attention to is the milky-white eyelashes. Only days after you hear that this man rarely shows his face. You were given a file on him, but you never peeked inside it because you were pissed that such drastic measures had to be taken in the first place. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Now you pry it from the pile of papers you buried it into, open it, and the first - and only - photo you see is a perfect portrayal of what Death looks like.

He's the Reaper himself when adorned with that human skull. Keen but emotionless eyes stare from the pits of the sockets to somewhere in the distance, but that look is a stare into the past. The photo raises thousands of questions, and not only the need to know why this man prefers to wear human bones when he's shooting people.

Because apparently, that’s what he used to do before he became a bodyguard. He's buff, that you already know. But in that picture, he looks even more packed, with what you suppose is a bullet vest beneath that blouse. He’s holding an ugly-looking gun – not a pistol, but a rifle of some sort. The gear on him no doubt weighs something close to 60 pounds. His sleeves are rolled up and expose the crisscross veins on his forearms along with war-ugly, crude tattoos, and you swallow.

Were you really looking at a picture of a barbaric soldier like it was some peculiar soft porn now?

You flip the file closed and toss it on the table, rather disgusted with yourself.

The next time you see him, you look into those brown eyes a moment longer. That stoic stare is the only thing you recognize as that of the man in the picture. That, along with his size, although photos really can't convey how this brooding grunt makes you feel: small and insignificant. Nor do they illustrate how the man looks like he’s the most graceful bull in a china shop when moving inside your house.

You suppose he grew up poor, the way he looks at your furniture, your half-a-mile bookshelf, and the latest art piece you got last month in your living room. He's judging you.

You're posh. And clueless. And a child.

And this brute lives with you, for now. He's placed downstairs until the target is neutralized. And he's not just a bodyguard: he's hunting the hunter while you're the bait.

It should give you a thrill; your friend giggles when you two gossip about him over a lunch while he's standing only a few feet away. But this situation does not give you a thrill. It just makes you pissed.

And it's not just the situation, it's this... Simon Riley who makes you pissed.

Couldn't they teach manners, some conversation skills at the bodyguard school or wherever the hell this pale, emotionless Hulk came from?

You recheck his file and snoop some more details about his past. He didn't go to bodyguard school (of course he didn't); he used to work for some PMC. The brute's a cold-blooded, cold-hearted mercenary. To put it more eloquently, he's an elite soldier of some tactical unit. But all of that is classified, as is almost every other detail about him. The only thing you are left with is that he's British through and through, but you can already tell that by his accent - the thick Mancunian that makes your stomach and heart flip.

It's gruff – of course it's gruff – and sometimes chafes your ears like they were being grated with the softest grater. You find yourself thinking about him while you're in the shower, when your fingers start to drift and wander.

And for the love of god, you are not thinking about that accent and those eyes while you're masturbating. You're not going to mourn the fact that he never rolls his sleeves when he's with you. When he's at work.

"I saw your file," you start to chitchat over breakfast one day.

"I reckon."

He won't even touch the coffee you poured him but proceeds to drink almost all the tea. The delicate china looks miniature in his hands as he pours the Earl Grey into his cup. The cups are dainty, too – this savage would prefer a large, black mug, perhaps, from which to gulp his tea.

"So. What made you become a soldier?"

"Joined the SAS when I was 17."

And another thing he won't do is look at you when you speak. No manners at all in this man, only rough, sharp edges. He sits as far from you as he can, at the other end of the table, as if you were in a meeting. Or a war council.

"That's not what I asked."

"I know."

You roll your eyes. Conversation skills, god. Just give this man at least some charm…

"I'm going to do some shopping," you declare. "You can stay here."

Finally, he raises his stare. It's full of tired distaste.

"Nah. That's not how this works."

You rise from the table, gracefully and with a neutral face, indicating that you are an adult and won't be needing a babysitter at a store.

"Lady."

The command is dark and stops you before you have taken one step from the table. It's a slur, almost.

He rises from the table too, and you almost feel sorry, noticing he hasn't yet finished his toast.

"You hired me. And I'm gonna do my job."

He looks big and broad, like a beautiful storm, with that piercing stare and the most alluring lashes you have ever seen on a man. Your voice turns into a meek, pitched attempt to reason with a giant.

"...I'm just going shopping."

His head tilts with a mock: you're only a child in his eyes.

"Then let's go shopping."

…......…......

Sitting next to this giant in a taxi must be a hilarious-looking scene. A charming, vibrant lady and a sullen, intimidating Theseus – what a pair.

You've also never been this close to him. The man always sits with a wide spread. One heavy thigh almost touches your knees, which you have turned towards him for some unfathomable reason. You were taught to sit with knees closely set together, and that’s what you’re trying to do now: make yourself as small and feminine as possible. It only accentuates this man's size compared to yours. There's a pile of shopping bags between you two, and your gaze is directed outside the window, but you can feel his presence like there's a thrumming monolith beside you.

And he's always dressed in black. You kind of enjoyed how you two looked at the store: you in your heels and a pearl white suit, he in black, tactical ripstop and boots. You wouldn't define the man well-dressed… but he is sharply dressed in his own field, that's for sure. Even a commoner like you could see that.

He had complained about your clothes. White draws too much attention and makes for a bigger target. You had brushed him off with a scoff. You’re not going to change the way you dress because of this.

"You're from Manchester, right?"

You're only trying to make the journey home more enjoyable, but feel like you're snooping again, this time from the man himself. The less you know about Simon Riley, the more you want to learn who he is. It is only natural to get a little curious when his file barely had two paragraphs and a photo. You suppose even that single picture was taken and given forward with reluctance.

And the only thing you learn is that small talk is a completely foreign concept to this man.

"You're quite the Sherlock," he mutters with that fat accent that gave him away the minute you two shook hands. You Sherlock about some more, look at the left hand that rests on his thigh.

There's no ring. Not even a tan line. He must be lonely: no relationship could stand working hours like these.

"Do you still live there?"

"...No."

"Do you miss the place?"

"No."

The short answers are guttural and spoken from the back of his throat. You don't know if he's doing it on purpose, or if this Simon is like this with everyone. He's not annoyed, though, not the way you're beginning to be.

"Aren't you a chatty one…" you mumble while watching cloudy London pass by. You figured he might hear it, and perhaps that was your purpose, even if your voice was barely a whisper.

"I'm not here to talk. Ma'am."

…......…......

You are told to stay away from the windows. The dinner table is moved so no one can aim at your head through a glass. And even then, most curtains must be closed at all times.

He goes through doors first, and advises against going out at all. You get a list of things you should take into consideration if you do go out.

And you’re not going to give in to fear.

You simply take different routes to your friends and family, have lunches at different restaurants than usual. He says you should get an armored car, but you don’t have a license. Of course your brooding bodyguard could drive, but what will you do with some armored tank after you're finally through this thing?

What's far more interesting is that it turns out this Simon Riley is a smoker.

Disgusting, you think at first, then think about him all sweaty and grimy after some gunfight, reaching for a cig, curling those thick fingers around a pure-white coffin nail. No, wait – he had gloves in that picture; he wouldn't bother to take them off before he smoked, he would just lean on his gun and on some crumbling wall and sigh from the joy of being alive, of being bloodied and dirty and victorious before taking a long drag from his cigarette.

Ugh.

Reluctantly you agree that perhaps there is an odd charm to this man after all. Either that, or then you are in need of some serious therapy.

Breakfasts are torturingly quiet with Simon, and you can hear the slow roll of eyes every time you make plans to go to a party or an art gallery.

Once, a zipper gets stuck and you have to ask him for help. It’s mortifying, and he doesn’t say a word, only mocks you with his eyes as you turn around for him to place a warm hand on your hip and another on your back to pull up the zipper you had fought to reach and drag up by yourself for at least 10 minutes.

A week passes, and he’s buried in work, not only because he’s guarding your body 24/7, but because he’s trying to locate the hitman. The fact that Simon Riley is technically speaking a hitman too - to think that you have hired a killer - is something you don’t have the mental strength to delve into right now.

"Found the one who's hunting you."

Another file is dropped before you at the end of the week. The man marches into your office like there's no door there at all. Doesn't even bother to knock.

This isn't what you meant when you politely told him to make himself home…

You roll the glass of water on your temple and sigh. The file reveals another photo, this time of a man who looks like an executioner.

"Goes by the name König," he says and clasps his hands over his crotch while taking a wide stance in front of your desk. "Austrian war criminal. Skilled with knives… Likes to torture people first."

Nice. More brutes.

"Why are you telling me this?"

You're tired, there's a headache approaching, and you really don't care to go over some details about a professional lunatic killer right now. But Simon Riley - codenamed Ghost, you’ve lately learned - looks down at you like a storm cloud over a carefree meadow.

"Because you clearly don't understand the danger you're in."

He adds "Ma'am" as a footnote. Purposely forgotten...

And you wish he would forget that silly, overly courteous term.

"Well–" you sigh your frustration in the air between you two, then realize that perhaps you're being treated like a child because you behave like one. "What are you going to do about this man...?"

"Gonna kill him," he simply shrugs, the eternal, distant look in those eyes gaining a smug tone to them.

He enjoys this. Enjoys killing, but what's even worse, enjoys seeing how his ruthlessness makes you shift uncomfortably in your chair. Or perhaps he just likes shocking you with that file with an image of a lyncher in it. You know perfectly well that you're in trouble and under threat. That's what you've tried to forget, but no one lets you forget.

Simon takes a deep breath before placing his humble petition before you.

"Ma’am. I'm gonna need your help."

And nothing in this man is humble. Even though he rarely speaks and never shows his talents, not to talk of showing off, he reeks of pride and testosterone.

You set the glass on the table and straighten the file to align with the leather pad on your desk. Your fingers are not trembling. Yet.

"What do you mean?"

He gives a hoarse laugh. The sound drills straight to your core and starts to bloom there. You realize you have never seen him smile before. And he's not smiling now: the short laugh is just a dark chuckle that mainly stays inside his chest; it only makes those stocky shoulders rise and fall.

"Not like that," he looks down at you with a tad of mercy. "You're gonna serve as bait."

"Isn't… that what I've been the whole time?"

"Yeah. But this time, we're gonna lure him in."

The way he talks makes your thighs rub together without your consent. You wonder what it would feel like if you were trapped between that solid chest and a wall, what it would be like if those hands woke you up with a calloused caress of a thigh.

You don't quite understand the difference between bait and a lure but find yourself willing to do whatever you can to help him. Help Simon…

"Sure... I'll help you," you say as if this man wasn't on your payroll.

"That's the least you could do."

That barely hidden bite in his dry retort doesn't escape you. This man's audacity buries whatever odd want you have started to feel for him and replaces it with searing, womanly fury.

He could be a little more sensitive.

You're the one who has a target on their back. You're the one who fears going to sleep at night and feels lucky they're alive come dawn. If he wasn't so crude and uncaring, you would've asked him to sleep in the same room with you from the start. But he has to be a brute, has to follow and mock you with those ink blot eyes at every turn.

You rise from the chair when he turns and walks toward the door. It's almost a snappy jump, an attempt to reclaim your power. You're sore and thoroughly peeved.

"I never wanted this," you tell him with an annoying timbre in your tone. He stops right before the door but doesn't turn.

"Neither did I."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Could be somewhere warmer with no damsels giving me their cheek."

The BDU blouse you saw in that picture was yellow, burnt yellow. Desert wear… He wants to be in a hot desert with a cold gun in his hand. Dropped straight from some plane, working alone, in a place where damsels aren't giving him their cheek. Where there are no damsels at all.

You're relatively sure there is no Mrs. Riley. No woman could stand this man.

"Then go somewhere warmer," you snap, almost stomp your heel on the soft carpet. This man is simply intolerable. The way he never reacts to anything makes you want to throw things at him.

He must be trained to be so calm, but you're not. You're used to making men a little stupid and flustered. You're used to men eating out of your hand. He's not behaving at all like he's supposed to. Simon Riley is just a mountain without emotion.

He turns with that eternal, downgrading look in his eyes. There's a flash of amusement there, too.

Soddy bastard…

"Nah. Not until I've done my job."

His voice is warm now; the gruff and gravel make way to a smoothness that goes directly to your knees. Your lips part, and his eyes fall on your mouth just before he lifts his chin a hair of an inch.

"Your job…" you breathe, too furious to even rage or shout.

Your fucking job.

Why did you even want this job if it's so–

"Yeah. My job. Some people got one."

You have to take support from the table with your fingertips.

"Excuse me?"

There's the tiniest curve at the corner of his mouth before he takes his leave.

"Good night, ma'am."

…......…......

The next day, you start the breakfast by apologizing.

You barely slept that night, first because of this man's utter nerve, then because your wrath eventually cooled down into a bleeding consciousness of how you must look in his eyes.

He has accepted this job, something different from what he usually does, for reasons unknown to you. He might not be on some faraway battlefield where bullets fly past, but this is no less risky. The picture he showed you, the file on König, haunted your restless sleep last night – when you finally did get some sleep.

You have been running around like everything’s normal when it’s not. The man’s just trying to do his job.

And you're the one who hired him. Not your lawyer.

"I want to make peace," you coo while spreading some jam on toast. You expect Simon to finally melt a little. You might even get a smile. You secretly hope your reward is that this brute turns into a tamed lap dog you can feed some treats every now and then.

The situation is thrilling: the beefiest man you have ever seen is going to kill someone for you. Even if he's being paid to do so, he is prepared to die for you. There's something incredibly sexy about that.

But there is silence at the other end of the table. Only the crunchy sounds of toast getting sugar on top can be heard.

"That so?"

He doesn't sound like he's melting. He doesn't sound at all domesticated. He only sounds more and more amused.

"Yes. I'm happy that you're here," you put the toast down and turn to look at him with angel eyes.

He laughs. When he stops, he looks you up and down, then laughs some more, a silent, shoulder-shaking chuckle.

"I'm… I'm serious," you hurry to add. "I mean it. I haven't been treating you the way I should–"

"That's for sure."

You see more warmth in those eyes. But it's not because of your humble apology.

His eyes are trekking down the neckline of your blouse, and to your horror, you notice – feel – how one of the top buttons has opened, revealing much more than just some skin. You're pretty sure he gets an ample view of the fuchsia bra you're wearing underneath.

If you reach for that button now, you underline that he's not supposed to look, even if it's your mistake that you're so obscenely exposed. If you close it now, you tell him he's not allowed to look. And that's not entirely true.

"Will you forgive me?"

You feel like you're offering peace, or at least a truce, with more than just that peepy question. Because your breasts swell inside that blouse. They rise and fall with your breaths, your nipples grow hard from that look that stays down a bit longer before drifting back up.

"There's nothing to forgive," he says, voice dropping a note or two.

"Good," you swallow. The following sentence comes out so weakly that it's almost a whisper. "After all, I hired you."

"Ain't that the truth."

The dim glint in those eyes still holds you as a prisoner, and his tea is growing cold.

"Are we going shopping today?"

"No," you utter, dreading the next inevitable question.

"What then?"

"I… I have a yoga class."

"Of course you do."

…......…......

Taglist: @cumikering

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod fanfic #mw2 fanfic #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x female reader #ghost x female reader #bodyguard au #bodyguard!Ghost

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kingtomura · 15 days

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Cat and mouse

synopsis: Your ex boyfriend has some nerve texting you at three in the morning — an entire week after the disaster breakup you had. You should really go over there and give him a piece of your mind. Well, you know what they say about famous last words. wc: 6.1k | crossposted to ao3 content: tomura shigaraki x female reader, no quirks au, toxic tomura, reader is kinda toxic too tbh, unhealthy relationships, breaking up and making up, vaginal fingering, overstim, breeding kink, piv, dubcon creampie, degredation, threats of baby trapping, hurt/comfort, sweet at the end idc

You’ve told your friends time and time again to stay out of your business. They never listen.

“Oh my god, Kirishima? Is he even twenty yet?” You drag as you watch your friend flip through several pictures of the redheaded boy like he was a member of the bachelor.

She smiles, scrolling her phone for more options, “no, but he will be in a couple of months!”

“No!” Your words are sharp. You love Mina but god, you don’t want her to play matchmaker with you. It’s not like you’re a charity case or something.

She gasps and you swear you could see the lightbulb go off above her head. “What about Denki? He’s fun!”

You groan, falling back onto the bed and covering your eyes with your arm. “Mina.”

“Hey, just give her a break okay? It’s only been about a week.” Your saving grace Yaoyorozu speaks up and it’s nice to finally have someone on your side.

“Thank you.”

“Seriously? So we’re just going to sit around and watch you mope about all day?” Mina questions, irritation clear in her voice and it grates your ears.

“Preferably, yes! Just let me be.” You roll over, face officially shoved into your pillow. It’s been a rough couple of days and you haven’t gotten a single call or text from Tomura. Not that you should be expecting one. You broke up with him after all.

It’s just.. this time feels different. Usually there’s more arguing and he’s fighting for you to stay around, but this time there was nothing. No quips, no insults, just “fine, get out then.”

That hurt the most.

You had no idea what he was up to.

Maybe he was as depressed as you were.

Maybe he’s found someone else.

The thought makes you stop in your tracks. The idea of Tomura, your tomura with someone else is enough to make you nauseous.

You jump to your feet and rush to the bathroom, locking yourself in and falling to your knees.

God, what if that was why it was so easy?

You pull out your phone, the device lighting up and unlocking with your facial id.

Tomura doesn’t use social media much but you could still check to see if he’d blocked you.

To your surprise, he hadn’t.

He hasn't posted anything either and there’s no new person in his followers.

You feel yourself exhale a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. No change is a good thing.

There’s knocking on the door and you thank the stars you locked it. Your friends would judge you so hard if they saw you lurking through your ex’s social media.

“Hey, are you okay in there?” It’s your saving grace Yaoyorozu again and you almost feel bad for shutting her out.

“Yeah, I’m sorry if it feels like I pressured you! I’ll give you some space.” Mina's regretful voice calls and it makes your heart clench. You know she means well but she just doesn’t understand. None of them do.

Whether you want to admit it or not, you love Tomura.

Yes, you argue and yes, you fight, but he just gets you. He’s so cynical, but so caring — in his own special way. Too bad he was such an asshole. The argument wasn’t even supposed to go that far.

There are tears beginning to blur your vision and you wipe them away, willing the feelings down and standing to your feet.

If he wanted you to stay away, then fine. You could do that.

You splash cool water onto your face and take a breath, steeling yourself and getting ready to face your friend once more. It was Saturday and they were convinced you needed a fun girl’s night.

It takes a lot to refrain from cringing at the phrase, but you believe they held some truth with the idea. You definitely didn’t want to be alone right now.

You unlock the bathroom door, meeting Mina and Yaoyorozu’s worried expressions with a smile.

“We should probably get ready now, huh?”

Mina’s eyes light up, smile blinding and excitement contagious.

“Yes! Jirou and the others are here now.” She starts to clap, excitement buzzing around her, “Girl’s night is going to be amazing!”

—-

Girl’s night was a bust.

The moment everyone arrived the apartment quickly filled with chaos. Noisy and busy, it was all giving you a headache. Until someone decided it would be a good idea to pregame before going out.

In preparation for the night your friend’s insisted that you get dolled up, hair makeup and skimpy clothes you wouldn’t look twice at on any normal day.

You had to admit it made you a little more excited to get out and at least feel like your world isn't crashing around you. It was supposed to be a fun little night out. Somehow one drink turned into two, which turned into three which turned into Mina swearing she could beat everyone in a dance battle.

The group only got more riled up as everyone indulged in this silly challenge.

One challenge leads to another, which leads to more drinking, which then ends in everyone being too drunk to function and knocking out — all laid out in odd places around your living room floor and couch.

The groggy feeling came first, your arms radiating in dull pain as you vaguely recalled trying to beat Mina in a contest of who could do the most push ups. It sure as hell wasn't you, but the drunk version of you thought it was possible to move mountains.

You blink a few times, trying to will your eyes to rapidly adjust to the darkness of the room and find out what this odd buzzing noise beside you had been. Turning over, you find your phone, squinting as the too bright screen lights up your face and you see that it is three a.m.

You had fallen asleep with everyone else.

The phone buzzes again, lighting up and you have to squint further to read the contact name.

Tomura.

Your eyes widen as you scan over the three texts he’s sent you.

Wasting no time, you rush to your feet and into the bathroom so you can look at your phone without the chance of prying eyes overlooking your shoulder. Even though they were probably going to be out until late morning.

Tomura’s messages were short, no paragraphs, no essays but three different messages sent in succession.

When are you coming to get your shit?

I’m tired of waiting.

And I’m deleting our farm btw.

The first two messages don’t get much of a reaction from you, especially since it’s three a.m and he knows you’re usually asleep around this time.

But the third message…

Your Stardew Valley farm that you’ve had and worked on together for almost two years being put on the line and threatened? What the fuck was his problem?

This farm was a constant in your relationship. Throughout the ups and downs and back and forths. You were sure that hell would freeze over before you both would give up that progress. But here he is, threatening you while you would have been asleep. What an asshole.

Your feet are moving before your brain can stop them and you make your way to the front door. Since your friends were all passed out it would be easy to sneak over to Shigaraki’s place, give him a piece of your mind and then sneak back. In and out, quick and easy.

Your decision is made and you grab your coat, deciding to just go over there as you are. You hadn’t changed out of your outfit that was supposed to be for the night out, but it didn’t matter. You only needed to get over there and get there fast.

Once you arrive at Tomura’s doorstep you waste no time knocking. It’s around three in the morning so he should still very much be awake.

There's a chill in the air as you wait for his answer and you wrap your jacket closer to your body. A rumble of thunder caught your attention and it's then you notice the rain clouds rolling in. You knew it would only be a matter of time before the bottom of the sky falls out and rain drenches everything. You were on borrowed time if you wanted to make it back before then.

After what feels like forever the door finally opens, revealing a very cozy pajama-clad Tomura, who seemed a little too pleased for his own good — if that sly smile he was doing a bad job at hiding was anything to go by.

You don't give him a chance to greet you or say anything for that matter, stopping his words in their tracks as you cut him off. “What do you want?”

He doesn’t bother hiding his smirk now, the expression making your fists clench and your anger boil. “What do I want? You’re at my door, in front of my apartment.” He scoffs, clearly getting the exact reaction he had wanted from you, “I should be asking what do you want?”

Caught like a deer in headlights. Whatever, you don't let that stop you as you pull out your phone to show him his text. “You sent this, I know you’re bluffing. What do you want?”

Tomura shrugs, leaning against his door frame and giving you a pleased look. Expression relaxed and content. Not a care in the world. “To talk.”

“Well, I'm here now, so let’s talk.” You spit, crossing your arms and waiting for whatever else he would throw at you.

“Sure, but you should come in first.” He starts, looking up towards the darkened sky, confirming his assessment. “It’s gonna rain soon, you know.”

Of course you knew that.

You just didn’t want to give him more time than you had. But you agree and go in, ignoring the fighting feeling in the back of your mind screaming at you to turn away and hightail it out of there.

Tomura’s home is the exact way it was the day you left, give or take a few more containers of takeout littered around the place. You have half a mind to scold him about it, but quickly remember that it isn’t your place to do that anymore.

So instead you stay quiet, following him into the apartment and into the living room. Opting to stand as he sat, and resisted the urge to get comfortable.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” You try, done watching him pick up a controller and boot up a video game. Seriously?

Your patience was wearing thin now as you watched him ignore you to play some stupid game. You try calling to him again, knowing this was probably a waste of your time and groans.

“I was in the middle of something before you got here. Let me finish and we’ll talk.” It's flippant the way he waves you off and continues the game. The lack of care only hurting your feelings further and making you realize this may have all been a big mistake on your part.

You shouldn’t be at your ex boyfriend’s house being ignored. You should be at your house getting drunk and hanging out with your best friends. There was no reason to stay somewhere you’re obviously not valued.

It’s a simple choice when you put it into perspective.

But things are always easier said than done.

You sigh, the air puffing out your cheeks, a bad habit you had when angry, and walk right in front of Tomura’s TV. There was more satisfaction in making him lose the game and then announcing your departure than just leaving quietly.

He cranes his neck to see around you, but it doesn’t work, finally giving up as his character inevitably dies. “What!?”

“I’m leaving!” You announced, turning on your heel and heading towards the front door.

“You had to make me lose first? I said I was almost done!” He spat back, rising from the couch to follow you.

You shrug, “I don’t care. Why invite me in if you’re just going to ignore me?”

“Didn’t think you had the patience of a child.'' Tomura stands in front of you, cutting through your path and stopping you in your tracks.

It's almost comical the way he insults you. “Okay pot, meet kettle.” You try to brush past him, but he side steps with you.

“What are you dressed like that for anyway? Did you go out tonight or something?”

“No!” You deny, a little louder than intended and then pause. “But it’s none of your business what I do anyway.”

Tomura hums at this, taking the words in and running them through his mind as he gives you a once over, eyes scanning from the too-tight shirt you wore — showing a generous amount of cleavage, down to your mini skirt that left little to the imagination.

“Could've fooled me.”

“What do you mean by that?” You hate when he gives you cryptic answers, like it’s impossible to pry into his mind to see what he was thinking at the moment.

“You knew you were coming to see me so I dont get why you're wearing that skimpy shit. Unless you wanted me to check you out.”

“Not everything is about you, Tomura. Maybe I just wanted to dress up and look nice.”

“Bullshit—”

“God, Tomura you always fucking do this!” You yell, walking right up into his face. The excitement in his scarlet eyes sends a chill up your spin, but you can’t back down.

He gets closer, matching your tone and you can still see the grin he’s trying to hide. It makes you see red. “Do what? Tell you the truth? You know I’m not wrong.”

“Yeah, you think you know everything, but you don’t. I’m dressed up because I want to be, not because of you.” You’re insisting at this point, frustration threatening to tip over and spill out into the form of another pointless argument. Why did you think you could actually come over and have a decent conversation with him?

Tomura is a master at getting under your skin and hitting where it hurts. In all of your arguments he’s never really pulled out the big shots but you wouldn’t put it past him to do so now.

“Oh, so you come over to my place dressed like a slut and you expect me to believe you don’t have some hidden motive?”

And there it is.

Your last straw. He could be so egotistical and mean — you’ve had it.

You regret it the moment you do it, but your body moves before your brain can process your actions. You push Tomura. Hard.

He doesn’t fall back far but you know it’s enough to piss him off. And he’s never been one to hold anything back, so he shoves you back and your back hits the wall.

Tomura has you pinned before you know it and there’s a thrill that runs through your body in a way you know you shouldn’t be feeling. Your knees feel weak for reasons that are not related to fear and your panties were gradually becoming more wet.

His voice is low and his eyes are narrowed as he pins you against the wall, pressing your cheeks together with his other hand. “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

You have to bite back a smile, knowing this has taken a turn and you aren’t strong enough to stop where it’s going. Not that you would want to.

“Oh yeah? If I piss you off so badly then why are you hard?”

He doesn’t look down. He can feel his own arousal just as well as you can while it’s pressed against your abdomen.

Tomura pushes off of you — maintaining some distance as he turns away.

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“Sure am.” You supply, chipper and certain as you trail behind him.

He’s walking further into the apartment, and you follow. Legs moving on their own accord as you go further into the lion's den, exchanging quips and insults. You jab your finger into his shoulder, bothered by the way he continues to ignore you, it's a pathetic attempt at catching his attention and it works. Kind of.

The only response being him slapping your hand away with a glare and muttering a soft fuck off as he walked on.

You both went back and forth. Like the sun and moon, you just can’t stay away from each other.

It was how these things usually went between you and Tomura. He would start up, make a petty argument and you would never back down. Tomura is someone who was used to getting his way and others simply did what he said with no objections.

But that was not how you were.

And he loved it.

You knew by the way he would get that devious glimmer in his eye when you would challenge a point, starting up a debate. Sometimes they were heated enough to make you both break up. It never lasted more than a few days. A week being the longest.

Push and pull.

Tomura made his way past you again, ignoring your calls about how you hate being ignored. At this point you’re sure he’s doing it on purpose to rile you up more but you can’t help but take the bait. You grab his shoulder, forcing him to turn around and face you as you point a finger in his face.

“Stop walking away from me!”

He grabs your wrist and pulls you closer, making you stumble on your feet and almost lose balance. You were so close you could feel the heat from his body and smell the fresh linen scent of his shirt. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

You snatch your wrist away from him, tension between you two growing hotter by the second as the space between you got thinner.

“What are you going to do about it?”

The narrowing of his eyes only made your grin grow wider as you watched the gears turn in his head as he thought about just how many things he would do about it. All of it enticed you, so you beat him to the punch.

You reach forward again, fully intending to shove his shoulder again for another reaction, another glare, maybe even more words, but he stops you. It was fast, the way you both tumbled through the hallway as Tomura crashed his lips to yours. The relief of finally feeling his lips again meshed with the excitement of how rough he was with you.

You lose yourself in the kiss, welcoming him in with open arms as you vaguely register the dark walls of his room and posters plastered along the walls in your scuffle.

It was exciting, probably the best part of breaking up and making up. At this point you think the whole point of falling apart is coming back together again. An endless cycle where the reward is worth the punishment.

Cat and mouse.

You end up on top of him, straddling his hips while your smug smile beams down at him. Tomura gives you an unamused look in return, yet the way his hands rested on your thighs gave away the ill hidden interest. It was all the encouragement you needed as you leaned down, hovering above him with both hands on his chest.

“Not so tough now, are you?”

It’s bait. You know it’s bait, he knows it’s bait, but he takes it anyway — the way you knew he would.

Tomura wastes no time flipping the both of you over, quickly reversing your positions as he settled himself between your legs. It’s dangerous the way his actions riled you up further, and you have to bite your lip to keep the smile from betraying your false anger. You couldn’t let him know how excited you were to be back in his bed.

He presses your cheeks together and rocks your head left to right, tone mocking and eyes wild with fever, “Oh, look who’s become a firecracker all of the sudden. Where did that flame come from, huh?”

You want to respond, but Tomura beats you to it, releasing your cheeks and pointing a nimble finger against your forehead, “Don’t be dumb.”

His eyes trail from yours and then down to your lips, then finally down to your exposed cleavage. The movement was swift as he cupped one of your breasts in his hand and dipped down, claiming your lips again. It was softer than the first time but not by much, especially not when he matched his pace by grinding his clothed erection into you, making you moan at the contact.

Your skirt was so short and it made you feel even more exposed than you already were. Tomura had easy access to you and the thin fabric of your panties made everything feel so much closer.

You moan at the contact, swiping your tongue against Tomura’s bottom lip and wasting no time deepening the kiss as you pull him closer. You needed more and you needed it as soon as possible.

Tomura pulled the low cut front of your shirt down, easily exposing your breasts from the confines of the shirt and massaged them, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your nipples and making you cry out from the sensitivity.

He pulls away from you, eyes gazing into yours and you swore in that moment he put you in a trance. Tomura’s ruby red gaze always left you mesmerized and you can’t help the whimper that leaves your lips, brows furrowed and eyes wanting, “Please.”

“Please what?” And he’s not taunting you, he’s not mocking you. His eyes are soft as he brings a hand to your cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” Fuck, you’ve missed him. “I just want you.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face as he strokes your cheek, soft look in his eyes making your heart flutter, and then it’s gone. Replaced by a hardened gaze as he moves to remove your shirt and bra, fully exposing you to his hungry eyes, and then moves to remove your short skirt.

His hands hover there for a moment, debating whether or not he should keep it on and fuck you in it, but then decides against the idea and pulls it off, taking your soaked panties down with it as well.

The air in the room feels cool against your skin as you shiver in anticipation.

“Fuck,” Tomura whispers, now eye level with your cunt. You gasp as he runs two fingers between your wet folds and holds the digits up to show you. Syrupy clear slick clung to them, slowly trailing down as Tomura rose back up, eye level with you once more.

“You’re so wet…” He murmured, bringing the digits to your mouth and you opened, taking them into your mouth and tasting yourself. You kept eye contact as you watched his eyes widen in delight — Tomura loved it when you put on a show for him.

There’s another moment of Tomura pressing against your tongue with his fingers and then he pulls them out, opting for a kiss in exchange, his tongue dipping into your mouth and groaning as he could taste what’s left of your slick on you as well.

The pleasant feeling and linguid action of your movements made your shoulders relax as you practically melted into his soft bed, the feeling of his body above yours bringing you mountains of comfort. It was a distraction, of course.

You felt the same two of Tomura’s fingers prod at your slick entrance before pressing in fully and all the way down to the knuckle. The stretch was intense but the pressure was euphoric, making you squeeze your eyes shut and grip him closer.

He didn’t make you wait long as he pumped his fingers, quickly finding that sensitive spot so deep inside of you that only he could pinpoint and brushing against it over and over.

The feeling was so good it made you pull away from the kiss to breathe, thighs twitching and toes curling in pleasure. You wouldn’t last long like this.

“Tomura, fuck..!” You moaned, drowning in ecstasy as he continued his abuse of your spot, never letting up or slowing down, aiming to make you cum as quickly as he could. It was obvious he wanted you to come undone as soon as possible by the way he watched your every expression.

The way your brows furrowed to the way you bit your lip. Tomura eagerly drank every expression and gave it back to you in the form of pleasure.

“What?” He started, unphased by your dilemma, “Gonna cum?”

It took a lot of focus and effort, but you nod — done with fighting for the night and accepting the fact that you will come apart quickly. So you give in to the pleasure.

Tomura smiles, a devious grin splitting his features as he curls his fingers, hitting the spot one more time for good measure and you lose composure, your climax crashing into you like a tidal wave. There was nothing you could do besides ride the feeling while holding on to Tomura tight — like you would get swept away if you didn’t.

He fucks you through it with his fingers, eyes never leaving your face as you come down from your high.

“Pent up, huh?” He questions, and this time there is that little hint of teasing. It brings you back to reality.

Yes, you have been pent up. You haven’t been able to get off to anything since you’ve broken up and it’s been hell.

You have no time for the games, you just want him and you want him now.

So, you take Tomura’s face in your hands, making him look you in the eyes. The flecks of black in his carmine eyes always makes you remember why you come back. Every single time.

“Fuck me, please, Tomura.” It's soft and filled with desire that you cannot be bothered to hide, and Tomura has never been one to deny you.

He quickly discards his own clothes, making sure to not stay away from you for long. His cock is hard and leaking precum from the head as he strokes it in preparation. You feel giddy at the thought and watch as he slides the head of his cock between your folds, coating it with your slick, and rubbing against your clit. The action makes your hips twitch up towards him.

He loves to tease and make you wait, but today he doesn’t make you wait long. Tomura leans down after lining himself up with your entrance and places his free hand behind your head, right above the nape of your neck. His hands were warm and the feeling of those hands cradling your head felt so comforting in the space of his familiar dark bedroom.

You bring a hand to his hair, tangling your fingers in his ashen locks as he pushes forward. The stretch makes you whimper and Tomura captures your lips in a kiss again, swallowing the noises and releasing a groan of his own as your walls tighten around his cock.

There's something about the way Tomura drags his hips, the way he starts off at a slow pace, winding you up as he steadily increases his speed and force. It happens so gradually that you don't realize you’re screaming his name until he tells you to shut up — threatening to cover your mouth because he didn't want his neighbors to hear how much of a slut you were.

It drove you mad the way he said it all with a smile and fucked you harder. Almost daring you to be louder so he can punish you with a hand over your mouth.

Tomura knew how rough you liked it and he always delivered, giving you back arching pleasure as he pounded into you. It leaves you gasping and struggling to keep your voice down. Your hands find the surface of his back, trying to hold on as much as you could with building pleasure on the horizon.

“Tomu— Tomura..! Please,” you cry and he doesn’t miss a beat, driving his cock so deep against your sweet spot it makes you see stars. “Fuck..!”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Tomura cooed, eyes filled with mischief as he brought you closer to the edge. “Cry for me.”

And you do, your body feeling euphoric as the feeling buzzed up your spine and filled your brain with the fuzz of ecstasy.

“What are you gonna do, huh?” He starts, his hips grinding against you, the closeness of his pelvis rubs against your clit, making you cry out again, “What are you gonna do when I breed this pretty cunt and make sure you’re stuck with me forever?”

He’s bluffing, you know Tomura doesn’t want kids. He’s just trying to gauge your reaction. Your dedication.

“Tomura…” You only moan, breath catching as he hits that spot inside you that he knows so well.

Tomura is smiling, wild and devious, as you look up at him with glossy eyes, so close to crying from the feelings, “I’m gonna do it. I’ll make you mine forever and you can’t do anything about it.”

“Ah!” You should stop him, tell him to calm down but he has your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your back arching off of the bed. Everything is blurring together and you can only slur words as the drool from your earlier kiss trails down your cheek.

You are completely at his mercy like this and you know your friends would be beyond disappointed.

It just feels so good the way his cock drags in and out of your body pulling moans and whines from your throat. He was relentless in the way he pounded into you — beyond the point of being soft and slow because he knows that’s exactly you like it.

“Say you want it.” The command comes with the slowing of his hips and you whine, high and needy as Tomura slows to a near stop.

“Tomura, I—“

“Say you want it or I swear to god I’ll stop right now.” It’s a threat and you don’t want to find out if he’ll go through with it. Tomura never goes back on his word.

“No, please, don’t— I want it!” you pant, frustrated and aching for more movement.

“I want you to,” you stammer, desperate to have your release. “I don’t care if you cum in me. I need you so bad.”

“That’s my girl,” He coos, dipping his head down onto your shoulder, “Fuck.. love you s’much”

You stop — you’ve never heard him say that. Ever. You doubted he would ever say it since it’s been so long.

He doesn’t give you a chance to ruminate on it because he's picking up the pace again and giving you the friction you were so deeply in need of. The feelings are swimming in your head as your cries reach new heights. Tomura is too far gone to stop you or care and you’re thankful. You couldn’t stop yourself if you tried.

The build of your orgasm crashes down and sends you with it, making your thighs quiver in pleasure and your eyes squeeze shut. Tomura’s mouth meets yours before you could cry out, the warmth of his tongue guiding you as he fucked you through it.

He didn’t last long after, the way your walls tightened around him with the force of your orgasm has Tomura’s pace erratic as he chased his own high.

The bed shook as Tomura finally finished, hips stuttered as he released inside of you, hot seed coating your insides and making heat rise to your cheeks. He really did it.

You watch as he slows to a stop above you, his eyes closed as he enjoys the feeling of release. Tomura’s breathing was heavy and you couldn’t stop yourself from bringing him down into another kiss, traveling from his lips to his cheeks and then back again.

It was intimate and you were worried it may have been too much, given the reason you were both in this situation was because of a stupid breakup.

Tomura’s pulls out of you, making you wince and taking the feeling of being so full away from you. He doesn’t go far, opting to stay on top of you and rest his head on your shoulder, wanting to keep you as close as possible.

“You really piss me off.” He mumbles into your shoulder, out of breath and tired. “God, why can’t you just stay with me.”

“Tomura…” Your hands run through his hair, the sweat is making it stick to his forehead as you wait for him to keep talking.

“Stop leaving me.” His voice is firm, unwavering.

“You told me to go.”

“I didn’t think you fucking would. I would never actually want you to.”

“I can’t read between the lines Tomura, I’m not in your head.” You make him look at you this time, pulling his hair a little to get him to raise his head. “Did you mean it?”

“I just said I didn’t—“

“No, the other thing you said.” He gives you a look of pure confusion and you lose a little bit of hope, “when you said you loved me?”

You stare into his carmine eyes, hoping, praying it wasn’t just pillow talk from the heat of the moment.

He looks at you for a long time, frustration still wearing on his features. If you didn’t know any better you would say he was pouting. “Of course I meant it. I’ve always felt like that.”

“But you’ve never said it!”

“I show it!”

“How?” This is getting frustrating and going in circles.

He groans, sitting up and taking his warmth with him. “I’m not going to sit here and list everything I’ve ever done for you. I don’t think it works like that.”

You open your mouth to counter, irritation on your tongue because that’s not what you meant, but Tomura stops you again.

“I don’t know how to explain it, okay?” He shakes his head and sighs, laying next to you on the bed and looking up at his ceiling. “It’s weird. I have these strong feelings, but it’s not hate, it's not anger. It's the opposite of that.”

You stare at him as he focuses ahead, keeping his eyes trained on the uninteresting ceiling above.

“Father said it’s a weakness and I should feel that way but,” There’s a pause as he looks away from the ceiling, meeting your eyes finally, “if it’s so weak of me, then why are the feelings so strong?”

Your heart aches. It's clear that he’s torn, and with the strange way he was raised you know that he can’t help the way he is.

“Tomura…”

“And it won’t go away. I can’t fight them down or push them away like I can with everything else. It eats me up and I… guess I lash out because of it.” He shakes his head and for the first time Tomura looks defeated. You’ve never seen him this way — he’s always been filled with confidence and self assured. “I just don’t know what to do.”

You bring a hand to his cheek as you press your forehead against his. It kills you that this is what’s been on his mind and you aren’t sure what you could do to fix it. Maybe there was nothing you could do, physically, but you would do your best to be there for him emotionally.

“Sometimes,” you try to be careful with your words, knowing how much Tomura looks up to his foster father even though the man has been nothing but strange to him. “People say things that aren’t true because they don’t know how to live with it.”

Tomura’s guardian cannot live with love nor the idea of it.

“That doesn't mean you have to live that way.”

And it’s the truth.

Tomura doesn’t say anything, just watches you with heavy lidded eyes, ruby red nearly glowing in the low light of the room. He was so much more than what people thought they knew of him and you didn’t care if it took time for others to see that.

He leans in, closing his eyes and you meet him halfway into a kiss.

It's warm and it's soft and you know that even when your phone is buzzing from dozens of missed calls and texts from your friends, it will be fine.

You and Tomura would take things one day at a time.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x you #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura x reader #mha x reader #my works #tomura shigaraki smut #shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura smut #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you

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tender-rosiey · 8 months

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candy pretty! — nanami kento x f!reader

a/n: okay but what would nanami do if his little girl had a crush on gojo’s son 😏

nanami is a mature man, calculated, collected, and the picture perfect adult. he is the best husband who, without fail, treats you like a queen.

he is also the best dad out there and your six year old daughter will always defend that with her entire being. she is also very ready to throw hands at whoever disagrees. right now, however, the one throwing hands is your husband.

and it’s either at gojo’s son or gojo himself.

but the boy did nothing, and gojo deserves a beating anyways so he settles for the latter.

that’s at least until his darling daughter came in with the biggest smile on her cute face and holding a note—probably written by gojo’s son, considering the very terrible and unstable handwriting, but the small smiley face and cute heart—as she squealed, “daddy, daddy! akio invited me to a playdate!”

it takes every bone in nanami not to walk to gojo’s house and throw him in the nearest trashcan where he belongs; instead, he smiles gently at his daughter, “that’s great, d/n. when are you going?”

“right now!”

“sure—wait…now?”

she nods excitedly. nanami sighs then gives her a thumbs up, and the girl takes it as a cue to excitedly run to her room with giggles and squeaks, “mommy, he said yes!”

he hears you respond through the door and he can practically hear the smile in your voice, “really? that’s awesome! let’s get you dressed up, pretty girl,” you and her run happily run to her room and nanami smiles at the sound of footsteps.

he loves how lively it makes the house feel.

then hears the door close and he leans back into his seat.

moments pass by. a deep breath he takes, and a stare he gives the ceiling before mumbling very quietly, “what the fuck.”

“ooo, daddy said a bad word!”

“put the money in the jar, kento!”

ugh, this is going to be a long day.

the both of you are already dressed, and your daughter is busying herself with her favorite comic while you help your husband get ready.

he is glaring at the mirror and you chuckle while straightening his collar, “what’s on your mind, handsome? dad instincts acting up? she is growing up; she is bound to have crushes.”

he nods with a sigh, “I know, but like it’s gojo’s kid.”

“yeah?”

“no, y/n, it’s gojo’s.”

“oh right…ew. ew to gojo, not the kid. akio is an absolute sweetheart.”

he snorts, “he probably takes after his mom,” then he kisses your forehead when you’re done tying his tie, “but the thought of being related to gojo is just…” he grimaces, shaking his head, and that’s all you need to understand.

he can almost imagine it: them a couple of years later, completely and utterly in love, and he would be so happy for them. anyone who ensures the happiness and safety of his daughter is an a+ for nanami.

then gojo will enter, loudly and dramatically, and he won’t hear the ending of his annoyances, a pain he thought he will get rid of before he enters his 40s at least. he looks at the bright side: at least, he will have you by his side.

you lightly smack his—very broad and muscular—shoulder, “now, you’re being dramatic! he isn’t that bad.”

a stare of silence is what you’re met with until your daughter interrupts the judging look of your husband, “mommy! daddy! ‘gotta go! he is waiting!”

your husband sighs once again and you giggle, pulling him with you towards the car.

the ride is quiet, save for your and your daughter’s singing and her rambles about how excited she is to see akio, along with your husband’s frown as he realizes that maybe he is getting protective of her even against akio.

it doesn’t take much time, before you’re already in the gojo household and are seated while the kids are playing in akio’s room.

it’s just you, kento, and gojo because mama gojo went out to work. you would’ve loved to catch up with her about the latest gossip in town.

gojo grins as he looks at the both of you, “so how’s nanamin feeling about the kids’ love story?”

an instant scowl is plastered on your husband’s handsome face and it makes you and gojo laugh out loud. gojo understands why he is protective. when he has a daughter himself, he will probably never let a boy near her.

you cup kento’s face to press a kiss to his cheek and it relaxes him, even if it’s just a tiny bit. gojo lets out a whistle and both you and your husband glare at him.

you hear some rustling in akio’s room, before your daughter bursts out, red-faced and running towards you. she buries her face in your legs and you softly ask her, “what’s wrong, honey?”

nanami gently rubs her back and it encourages her to speak up, even if her voice is a mere murmur, “akio called me pretty,” she fidgets with her fingers. you and nanami share a look of a helpless smile and pat your daughter’s hair.

soon after, akio comes running out of his room , “d/n? are you okay? miss y/n, is she sick? is she okay? I can get that…uh—yellow thingy mommy gives me when I am sick!”

you chuckle and stroke your daughter’s hair lovingly, “don’t worry, hun; she is just a little shy about being called pretty,” you hear her huff on your legs and she looks up to frown at you.

you chuckle and kiss her forehead while nanami is staring—read: probably glaring or planning something—at akio.

akio tilts his head in confusion, “but she is pretty? the prettiest girl ever! even prettier than candy!”

your daughter whines, burying her face further into your leg, “akioo, stop!”

gojo chuckles, watching the scene unfold and thinking about how his very evident charms were passed down to his kid.

but the compassion in his eyes as he worriedly looks at d/n is definetly from his mom. akio pads his way to d/n, and gently pats her head, “I am sorry; please don’t be mad at me.”

he pouts and looks away while blushing, “you’re my favorite person to play with…and I never—um,” he hides his faces his shirt, “want to make you sad.”

your daughter peaks at him and you could swear you could hear the slow music and the chiming bells. you could also bet that the wind is a paid-actor cause when did the window open anyways?

your husband taps your shoulder and points at gojo, who is turning on a fan to give this sweet moment more drama.

and so, after a while, the playdate comes to a close and you’re at the door saying goodbye to the gojos—who you will probably see tomorrow, but whatever.

gojo is leaning against the door as he grins, “let’s do this again soon.”

your husband takes out a cloth to wipe his glasses, “I would rather not.”

you gently elbow him before kneeling beside your daughter, “come on, d/n; say bye to akio and uncle gojo.”

“bye bye, uncle gojo,” she waves and he excitedly waves back then she looks at akio in silence.

the poor boy is overthinking why she isn’t saying goodbye to him and he is probably about to tear up. however, your daughter finally musters up the courage and walks towards him.

they look at each other for a moment before your daughter pecks his cheek and dashes to the car.

akio stares in front of him before becoming a blushing mess and falling to the ground. it’s chaos from there on out.

gojo is cackling like he never laughed before in his life. your husband is speechless and probably planning murder. you’re trying to do your best to calm him down, but it seems like there will be no stopping this man.

family dinners will be so interesting.

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

#nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk x you #jjk nanami x reader #nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x y/n #kento x reader #kento x y/n #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x y/n

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heavenlyhischier · 9 months

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𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐰 | 𝐋𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

word count: 3k

summary: what do you do when you fight with your best friend before you go back home and his brother calls you, offering to fly you out because his little brothers been moping around?

warnings: jealous luke (but only a little bit), cursing, angst but not too bad i don’t think (just besties fighting and making up), unedited, make out sesh at the end

You had been curled up on your couch all day watching Jersey Shore when you heard your phone vibrate on the coffee table. Pausing the show, you leaned forward to grab your phone and furrowed your brows when Jack’s name was displayed across the top of the screen. After the way you had left things with Luke the last time you visited, you debated on whether or not you wanted to answer the call. However, the anxious thoughts that something might have happened to your closest friend were enough to slide your finger across the screen.

“Hey,” You answered, fingers nervously dragging across the blanket in your lap, “Is everything okay?”

“Actually, I was going to ask you that question,” Jack’s voice came through the other end, laced with a slight sense of worry and curiosity.

“Everything’s fine,” You slowly spoke, straightening your back, “Why?”

“I don’t know, Luke’s just been super mopey since you left. Like even worse than he usually is, and he won’t talk to me,” Jack sighed, and you could picture him running his hand through his hair, “I was thinking that maybe I could fly you up here for the weekend. Seeing you always makes him feel better.”

Your breathing faltered at his words before you managed a weak, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Jack’s silence on the other end made you nervous. You don’t blame him, of course. You had been friends with Luke for nearly three years now and not once had you turned down a visit to see him. Not when he was at Michigan, and definitely not now that he was in Jersey. Typically, you would drop anything if it meant getting to visit your best friend.

“We sort of got into an argument before I left last time,” You explained, trying to push through the unnerving tension in your stomach.

“About what?”

Recalling the events of that morning, you let out a frustrated sigh. It was over the stupidest thing, and it got completely blown out of proportion. Truthfully, the arguing isn’t what had upset you. It was what Luke had said right before you left his apartment that truly bothered you.

“I don’t see why it’s such a big deal,” You yelled, throwing Luke a harsh glare as you gathered your stuff, “He gave me his number, so what?!”

“Why would you even want to go out with a barista,” He spit the word out as if it burned his tongue, “That’s so-”

“Oh my god, Luke! It doesn’t matter where he works. Stop being such a self-righteous asshole. Just because you’re a big shot hockey player, doesn’t make everyone else inferior to you.”

You were seething at this point, frustrated tears steadily rolling down your cheeks as you shoved all of your things into your bag. Truly, you wanted nothing more than to just drop the entire ordeal, but you knew that wouldn’t happen. In order to drop it, Luke would have to realize that he was wrong and apologize. Judging by the rage in his eyes and his rigid body, that wasn’t going to happen before you had to take leave to go back home.

“My ride is here, so I’ll just text you when my plane lands,” You dismissed, wiping at your cheeks as you grabbed your bags.

“Don’t bother.”

Your head snapped in his direction, and all you were met with was a blank expression on his face, his arms crossed over his chest. He raised his eyebrow as if he was baiting you, seeing if you were going to hit back at him. Instead, you shook your head as you let out a mangled scoff, walking out of his apartment and letting the door slam shut behind you.

“Something stupid. Doesn’t matter, but I don’t think me coming would be a good idea. I’m sorry, J,” You felt tears prick at your eyes as you denied his proposal. You wanted to see Luke more than anything, but he hadn’t even tried to text or call you since you left. He hadn't even liked the instagram picture you posted last week.

“Please,” He whined, “If you’re in some dumb fight, that’s all the more reason for you to come. So you can work it out.”

Jack went on for nearly fifteen more minutes, listing off all of the reasons it was a good idea for you to come. He told you that if Luke was an ass to you, then he would handle it and get you an early flight back home if that’s what you wanted. It wasn’t until you heard his voice in the background of the phone call, asking Jack who he was talking to, when you really contemplated it. You could tell Jack had pulled his phone away from his ear by the way the voices were muffled, but what he had said when he returned made you say yes.

The plan was as follows:

You board your flight at roughly 1:49 pm on Friday

Text Jack when you’re about to land and he’ll send a car for you since he had practice.

You go up to his apartment and wait for their arrival.

Most importantly, don’t tell Luke.

It seemed simple and easy, but your heart was racing a mile a minute as you walked through their apartment door and thought of all the bad things that could happen. Discarding your bag far enough away from the door that it would go unnoticed, you glanced around the living room to see that absolutely nothing had changed. Video game controllers were strewn across the coffee table, various blankets tossed haphazardly across the arms of the couch, and laundry baskets of unfolded laundry tucked in the corner. You couldn’t help but admire the random photos they had on their wall, most of them courtesy of Ellen or yourself, and on their tables. However, you paused in your steps as you heard the keypad beeping from the other side.

“Why are you smiling at me like that,” Luke grumbled, tossing Jack a glare he’s gotten used to over the last two weeks.

“What? I can’t smile at my baby brother,” Jack teased, ignoring his brothers bad attitude since he knew what, or who, was on the other side of the door.

“No. Not like that,” Luke pushed through the door.

You were holding your breath as you waited for him to notice you standing in the middle of his living room. Nerves crawled across your skin, lighting it on fire as you became fearful that you had made a mistake by coming. Fearful that he was still mad at you and would tell you to go back home. Fearful that he would take one look and completely ignore you.

His eyes finally landed on you, and it was as if the entire world stopped spinning. He stumbled over his own feet, eyes widening and raking over your entire body as if he was trying to figure out if you were real or not. You let out the breath you had been holding when you watched him throw his bag on the ground and take the two strides needed towards you. He slightly bent over, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you into him so close that you’re certain he was trying to merge you into one person.

You wasted no time in wrapping your arms around his neck as he buried his face in yours. His damp hair stuck to your exposed skin, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you let yourself completely fall into the feeling of him. You could feel all of the tension you had been holding from your argument dissipate the longer he held you close.

“I missed you so much,” He whispered against you, his warm breath slightly tickling your neck.

“I missed you, too,” You murmured, feeling your chest strain as you struggled to breathe, “But you gotta let me go. I can’t breathe.”

He reluctantly let you go, and the tears that lined his eyes and his utterly defeated look made your heart break. You had to force yourself to break the contact, if only briefly, to make your way to Jack. He wrapped you up in his arms, but the feeling that it elicited was nowhere near the same when it was his brother. There were no butterflies filling your stomachs or sparks flying when he touched you. He whispered a quiet ‘thank you for coming’ before letting you go and retreating to his room.

“C’mon,” You called out as you grabbed his duffel bag, “Let’s go lay down.”

Luke took your free hand and let you pull him to his room. He cringed when you pushed the door open and realized that it was an absolute mess. He hadn't had the energy to clean it up recently, and the look on your face told him that you wanted to say something about it, but you didn’t. Instead, you placed his bag on the floor in front of his dresser, curtly nodding when Luke told you that he had at least cleaned his sheets a few days ago.

He watches as you kick your shoes off and settle into the middle of his bed, your brow raised as he stays put in the doorway. Regaining his composure, he rid himself of his own shoes and shrugged his jacket off before slipping into the spot next to you. He was hesitant to reach out and pull you over to him like he’d always done, but you simply tugged him down so his head was on your chest. He draped his arm around your waist and held you tightly, matching your breathing.

Your fingers carded through his damp, messy hair as silence enveloped the two of you. Neither of you said anything in fear of ruining the moment, but you both knew something needed to be said. It needed to be fixed instead of pretending like nothing happened.

“We haven’t talked in a while,” He started, trying to focus on the way you felt against him instead of the awkwardness that now hung in the air.

You let out a quiet hum as you reminded him, “You’re the one who told me not to text you.”

“I know, I’m so sorry,” His voice cracked as he clung to you, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should have never done any of that. I regretted all of it as soon as I said it. I hated not talking to you. It was the worst three weeks of my life.”

You dropped your eyes down to his face and saw a stream of tears flowing down his cheeks and onto your shirt. It was easy to ignore the growing wet spot in your shirt, but the aching in your chest wasn’t as easy to shrug off. Seeing Luke cry made you feel like someone was ripping your heart out. Tears of your own spilled down your cheeks as you shifted so that you were able to comfort him.

“Hey, it’s okay,” You whispered, gently wiping away at his cheeks with your free hand, “It’s okay, Luke. I’m sorry, too. We both said things we didn’t mean, but it’s okay. We’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

He nodded against your chest, breathing shallow and uneven as he tried to get himself to stop crying. He felt pathetic and weak as he let his emotions get the best of him, but he at least felt safe and comfortable enough with you to not really care. He knows you would never judge him.

“I really did miss you. So much,” Luke sniffled, nudging his head against you.

“I missed you too, Luke. I missed you a lot,” You breathed out, closing your eyes as you leaned your head against his headboard.

“Not the same,” His voice was so quiet that you barely heard it.

“What do you mean,” You pulled your brows together, opening your eyes to glance at the boy on your chest.

“Nothing, never mind,” He mumbled as he shook his head.

Not wanting to press the situation any further, you lightly hummed and leaned your head back once again. You lightly scratched at his scalp as your fingers threaded in his hair, his breathing steadying down to a slower, relaxed pace. His fingers were digging into your hip as if he was afraid you were going to leave again, and it made your chest burn.

Intimate moments like this weren’t uncommon in your friendship with Luke, but they still clouded your thoughts nonetheless. He has always been extremely physical with you the entire time you’ve known him; a part of his body touching you no matter what was going on. His arm would be thrown over your shoulders, his hand on your lower back, his legs thrown over your lap, or one of you would be laying on the others chest as you watched tv. While you know Luke didn’t mean anything by his constant affection, that didn’t stop the warmth from spreading throughout your chest and to your stomach every time.

No matter how hard you had tried to push your feelings for Luke away, they would pop back up like they never left the second you saw him again. You had to constantly remind yourself that that's just how Luke was. He was probably a touchy guy with everyone he cared about in his life, and you shouldn’t read too much into it unless you wanted to get hurt.

“Saw that you scored a couple goals the other night,” Your voice cut through the silence, making Luke’s eyes snap to your own, “You played pretty good, I guess.”

“You watched the game,” He asked incredulously, eyes wide and lips parted.

“Of course I did, Luke. I watch every single one,” You lightly chuckle at the way his eyes were blown with surprise.

“But you- you always ask me how they were like you don’t ever watch them,” He lowly spoke, eyebrows knitting together in slight confusion. You could hear a slight hint of hurt when he mentioned you not watching his games, and that sent a pang of guilt to your chest.

“I know,” You bashfully spoke, cheeks tinging pink as you continued, “I do that because I like hearing you talk about them. You just get so excited and passionate, and I don’t know. I guess I just like listening to your perspective over anything else.”

The air around the two of you shifted as Luke’s eyes dragged from your eyes and down to your lips, and back up again. Your heart raced and your stomach twisted itself into knots as you waited to see what he would say, or do.

He rasped your name, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly, “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded a bit too quickly and eagerly than you would have liked, but the second you did, Luke was crashing his lips with your own. Your eyes flutter closed as you let yourself fall entirely into the moment in front of you, thoughts composing entirely of the way his lips felt on your own. You’d imagined this time and time again, but there was absolutely nothing that could have prepared you for the real deal. He was hovering over you, one of his arms supporting his weight while the other wound around your back to pull you into his chest, and you were falling into a blissful dizzying haze.

Luke pulled away, a small whine escaping your lips at the loss of warmth, but he simply pulled you on top of him. Your legs straddled his thighs, blood pounding in your ears and lip pulled between your teeth as you met his piercing gaze. His hands hesitantly dragged up your thighs, the skin underneath your leggings begging for his touch. Using his shoulders to keep your balance, you slowly leaned forwards, eyes darting from his eyes to his lips.

Your mouth finally meets his again, your dominant hand moving up his neck and to the back of his head to tangle in his mess of damp curls. A gentle tug to his hair allows you to slip your tongue in his mouth, a breathless whimper vibrating on your lips as his hands cups your thighs and moves you against him. He groans as your press yourself onto him, but you spring off of him when you hear the door opening.

“Are you guys hungr-,” Jacks voice cut off into a scream as he hastily slammed the door shut, “I’m going to go to that one place down the road to eat, you two carry on! I’m ready to be an uncle!”

You met Luke’s horrified stare, raising your eyebrows before the two of you fell into a fit of laughter. He threw his head back on to his pillow, his hands gently pulling you forward so that you fell against his chest. Your breathing is heavy as you nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck, fingers ghosting over the bare skin on his arm.

“I swear he has a sixth sense for ruining my moments,” He breathed out, glancing down at you as your face twisted in confusion, “I’ve wanted to kiss you before, but Jack always seemed to walk in just before I could actually do it. At least this time he waited.”

“Should’ve just done it,” You teased, lightly pinching at his skin.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t sure if you even felt the same way,” He admitted, shrugging before he continued, “I convinced myself there was no way you liked me back, especially after I got jealous because that barista gave you his number. The way I acted- I thought you were gone for good.”

His voice was thick with emotion and his eyes were screwed shut, and you knew that was his way to keep himself from letting his tears fall again. Your hand slipped up to cradle his jaw in your hand, “I will always be here, Luke. For the record, if it’s not obvious, I do like you back.”

His hand slips underneath your shirt, fingers dancing across the skins of your back as the two of you let the comfortable silence envelope you. The sound of the door shutting tore through the stillness in his room, letting the two of you know that Jack did indeed leave to get food.

“You know,” You peered up at him, placing a small, barely there kiss underneath his jaw, “He’s gone now…”

first time writing for lukey so hopefully it isn’t too bad!! let me know what you think ◡̈

#luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #nhl #nhl imagine #new jersey devils #NJD #jack hughes

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ohimsummer · 3 months

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✎ . . .❝ COME ON, OPEN WIDE! ❞

— minors dni, dubcon, bully! satosugu x gn! reader, throat/facefucking, pet play (?), humiliation, nicknames (puppy, dog)

“Ya know Satoru’s always wanted a puppy?”

Humiliating. That’s the word branding itself into your mind right now. You’re lucky, as Geto claims, that it’s them getting to have you like this and not some sick perverts. Though you can’t tell the difference.

“Come on, open wide!,” Gojo commands. A wet squelching fills your ears, fingers sink into your cheeks as Geto holds your jaw open. “Tongue out just like that, good dog!”

Cum gushes from Satoru’s length, missing your mouth entirely and staining your face. The weaker spurts shoot onto your bare chest and leak down over your nipples, onto the floor below. Suguru, looming over where you’re kneeled between his legs, pulls your face so you look him in the eyes.

“Your aim sucks.,” he laughs. “It’s everywhere.”

Gojo grins, milking his still-heavy cock over your parted lips until there’s nothing.“That’s just how I like it, baby. Come on, again.”

Your cheeks are squished between Geto’s rough fingers for another round, forcing your mouth open as Gojo pumps his twitching length again. They love demeaning you, humiliating you to knock you off your so-called ‘high horse’, but this has to take the cake. On your knees wearing a collar, custom made Satoru made sure to tell you, and being used as his cumdump. Stuck on your knees while Geto restrains your hands behind your back, slaps your face when he’s tired of holding your jaw open. ‘Such a naughty puppy, why do I have to keep doing this for you?’ when you bite your lips and face away from Satoru’s cock. You can’t even recall how many times Gojo’s nutted on your face, chest, used his dick to smear it over your lips after he got bored of filling your throat. Flashed you shameful pictures of yourself—covered in cum, Geto’s dick on your lips, down your throat, himself balls deep in your mouth. ‘Oh we’re set on wallpapers for a while.’ Geto hums it out like it’s the most normal thing in the world. There’s a puddle of their cum beneath you, and one of your own fluids between your thighs, but they don’t bother dealing with that just yet. Judging from the look on Satoru’s face, and the fact that he’s still rock-hard, you’ve got plenty more rounds to sit through before they even think about indulging your needs.

tagz: @anthoosies

#bully satosugu #bully! satosugu #satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #jjk x reader smut #satoru gojo smut #suguru geto smut #geto x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader smut #x reader smut #suguru x reader smut #satoru gojo x reader smut #suguru geto x reader smut

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joelscruff · 10 months

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wait (boyfriend's dad!joel x f!reader) 18+

first and foremost! this is part of my boyfriend's dad!joel series and takes place after "words". this won't really make sense if you haven't read that one! it's so crazy to me how this started out as a silly little smutty drabble and somehow became this. this one's kind of heavy (read the warnings!!) but i promise that things won't stay this angsty forever. at its root this story is supposed to be smutty and fun and i promise there will be more of that in the future. i hope you enjoy it and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 summary: it's been a month since your boyfriend discovered your relationship with his father and a month since you've seen joel. it's starting to take its toll. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: daddy kink, unprotected p in v sex, sexting, comeplay, angst, allusions to past trauma, shitty family dynamics (addiction & verbal abuse), panic attacks word count: 3.2k

i miss you

it's the only thing you've thought about texting him for about a month, a text you always type out and then erase a few moments later. it's something you swore to yourself that you wouldn't do no matter how lonely you got. he'd said he needed time, and you want to give it to him. and yet here you are, leaning against the window of your bus home from community college with tears in your eyes, phone in hand, wanting nothing more than to see him. selfish.

it's been one of the loneliest periods of your life. you've known loneliness, felt it throughout most of your childhood, through your adolescence, it's nothing new. but with joel you'd finally begun to feel whole again, like you actually mattered to someone. he looked forward to seeing you, to holding you, being with you. you'd never felt so desired and loved and protected in your whole life.

now you're back to having nothing, no one. it's a harsh reality you're forcing yourself to accept. you still haven't heard anything from your boyfriend - now ex, of course, though there was never any official breakup - and even that's a punch to the gut, an added depth to a loss that you caused.

he's hurting, i hurt him, joel's words repeat in your head. it breaks your heart that he's feeling so guilty, that he feels that he caused this entire thing when it's really your fault. if you weren't such a mess of a person, such a broken human being, the whole thing wouldn't have even happened to begin with. what kind of person sleeps with their boyfriend's father? starts a relationship with him? calls him daddy?

you know you caused this and yet you can't help but miss him so much. it's like he's ingrained himself into your bones somehow, his touch tattooed into your skin. he's all you think about, dream about. you miss being in his embrace, being held by him, whispering daddy in his ear and feeling understood, not judged. you miss his gentle kisses to your nose, the safety of his lap, his arms around your trembling form while he fucked you, took you, made you his.

you stare at the unsent text message and inevitably find yourself scrolling back up to a previous conversation from a few months back, short and simple. texting was never a frequent medium for the two of you, more-so used for you to send him dirty pictures every so often to tease him a bit. you briefly look at the picture, a close-up shot of your bare pussy with some of his come leaking out; absolutely filthy.

still have u inside me daddy

oh baby, so messy. what am I gonna do with you?

you smile at the silliness of it all, the filthiness, but it quickly fades when you remember the reality of the situation again, the fact that your boyfriend had read joel's messages, had definitely seen these texts in particular. he'd called joel a sick man. you don't agree, but you can understand why; if you'd seen a text interaction like this between your own father and a girl half his age... you'd probably have a similar reaction - though the concept of your father showing a woman any affection in the first place is alien in itself.

your bus pulls up to the stop near your house and you get off, slipping your phone back into your pocket and hiking your backpack over your shoulder as you go. it's only a short walk to your house, no more than three minutes, though you usually try to make it a bit longer to delay the inevitable disaster of your home life.

you take it one step at a time, slowly walking down the darkening street with fresh tears in your eyes. god, you're so lonely. you don't want to go home, don't want to be accosted by your alcoholic father and avoidant mother, your asshole brother who never gives you a break. it's so damn depressing in that house; when you'd first gotten together with your boyfriend you'd been so relieved to finally have somewhere else to go that wasn't school or home, another reason you'd stayed with him for so long despite the relationship being doomed. you should have known it couldn't last.

you'd told joel everything. it's hard to believe sometimes that the connection you shared was strong enough for you to trust him with some of your darkest secrets, the worst things from your past. he knows all about your family, all about what you've been through, had listened to you quietly and earnestly as you cried into his shoulder about the hand life had dealt you. he'd rubbed your back, kissed your forehead, whispered it's okay, and i'm here now, and i'm gonna take care of you, sweetheart. and he did. he did take care of you. he'd done everything right and somehow you still managed to fuck it up.

the lights are on in the house when you arrive at the front gate, though the car is missing from the driveway; this only means that your mother is out late tonight, probably staying with a friend or a lover or whoever she turns to when shit gets bad. you can't blame her - you'd done the exact same thing when you'd actually had somewhere to go - but part of you still aches for that little girl inside you that needs her, wishes she was inside waiting for you, though it's not like she'd do much to help.

your father is definitely home, probably your brother as well. you stand at the gate, gripping the strap of your backpack and deliberating even bothering to go inside. you know you'll be accosted at the front door by either a drunken tirade or bitter argument. it's a no-win situation no matter how you look at it. your phone buzzes in your pocket and you pull it out, grateful for one last brief distraction.

i miss you too, angel. so much.

your eyes go wide, heart stuttering in your chest as you stare at the words.

"fuck," you breathe, "fuck, fuck fuck," you quickly scroll up to confirm your fears - the i miss you text, the one you always erase, the one you make sure to never send - you'd somehow sent it this time, entirely by mistake.

tears are stinging your eyes as you turn on the spot and start walking back and forth in front of your house, running your hand through your hair in disbelief while you stare at joel's text. you fucking idiot. what the fuck have you done? what happened to giving him space? you stupid fucking bitch. you absolute loser. you're suddenly berating yourself the exact same way you know your father and brother will berate you if you go in the house now. you can already picture it - them seeing your tear stained cheeks, the puffiness of your eyes, the words they'll throw at you to hurt you even more, make you feel small.

fucking bitch. fucking loser. fucking idiot.

your breathing is becoming more and more erratic the longer you pace. you can't go in now, not after this, not after seeing that he misses you too and being so fucking close yet so far away. all you can suddenly think about is all those wasted moments at his house, spending so much time with your asshole boyfriend when you could have been with joel, been loved instead of tossed aside like garbage.

god, if you could only hear his voice. if you could just talk to him for one minute before you have to go into this godforsaken hellhole.

before you even fully understand what you're doing, you're hitting the call button and bringing the phone up to your ear.

he answers on the first ring.

"h-"

"i can't do this anymore," you gasp out through a sob, not even bothering to let him say anything, "joel, i can't do it, i miss you so fucking much it hurts."

"babygirl," he breathes, voice rough and deep and gorgeous and familiar, sweet like honey in your ear, "where are you? are you okay?"

and that's enough to break you.

you feel the tears begin to stream down your face, hot and unrelenting. you shake your head even though he can't see you, throat bobbing through repetitive gasps, "no, i'm not okay," you blubber, "da- fuck, joel, i- i can't do this, i can't be by myself anymore. i'm - " you don't even know where this is coming from, voice muddled, "i'm so lonely. i can't do it anymore, i can't. please, i can't."

he makes a devastating sound at your words, something between a sob and a gasp, "where are you?" he repeats, voice full of concern, "where are you, baby? i'm gonna come get you."

"the bus stop by my house," you manage to tell him through your tears, reaching the little bench and situating yourself on it without an ounce of hesitation, "i was- i was gonna go home but," another sob rips through your throat, "but they're home and i- i can't- i can't take it anymore, joel. i don't wanna be there anymore, i can't be there."

"you stay where you are, you hear me?" you can hear movement on the other line, the rattle of keys, footsteps, "don't go home, babygirl, i'm comin'. i'll be there in ten minutes."

"okay," you whisper, trying to catch your breath, "okay."

"deep breaths, baby, remember?" and you do remember; he'd taught you some exercises to help in situations like this, when you feel like the world is falling apart around you and you're just getting smaller and smaller, disappearing into nothingness. he'd held your hands while you'd sat in his lap, eyes closed as you both matched each other's breathing, melted into one another. "in and out, babygirl, that's it. real slow, count for me."

"i r-remember," you manage to hiccup, squeezing your chest with your other hand and trying to ground yourself.

the wait is excruciating, no matter how short, and no matter the fact that joel is on the other end trying to calm you. you sit on the bench with a hand on your heart and the other on your stomach, listening to joel count to five over and over, phone upturned on your thigh.

"big breath in. one...two...three...four...five," he says through the muffled sounds of traffic and wind, "big breath out. one...two...three...four...five." over and over and over again, "i'm turnin' the corner, baby, i'm almost there," he says after about ten minutes of this, "you see me, honey?"

you look up to find his headlights, getting brighter and brighter as they approach. you shakily sit up from the bench, breath coming out much less erratic now, "y-yes," you whisper.

seconds later the car is pulling up in front of you and he's jumping out, not even bothering to shut the door behind him as he dashes around it. it's been so long since you've seen him that it's jarring to suddenly have him in front of you, sprinting toward your small and shaking form with his jacket undone, shoes mismatched, glasses askew. you catch a glimpse of his expression, concerned and upset - are those tears? - before he scoops you up into his arms and pulls you in close to him.

"i'm here," he tells you, voice rumbling through his chest against your cheek, solid and warm, "i'm here now, babygirl, you're okay. you're okay."

and somehow you are.

"i'm sorry," is all you can say to him as he drives you to his house, hand holding yours tightly the whole way, "i'm such an idiot, i'm so sorry."

"stop saying that," he repeats for maybe the fourth time, shaking his head and squeezing your hand even more firmly, "you're not an idiot and you have nothing to be sorry about."

you really are okay now, breaths calm and tears not even flowing anymore. instead the guilt and shame and humiliation have taken over, sinking into your skin as you lean back in the passenger seat with your hood pulled up, hiding your face from him.

"i was giving you space," you mutter, "i didn't even mean to text you, it was an accident. i was being stupid, as usual."

"stop it," he says again, "stop being mean to yourself."

you close your eyes and face away from him, "easier said than done."

the two of you drive in silence for a few moments, that is until he asks, "have you eaten?" and you say, "no."

he buys you mcdonalds and doesn't let go of your hand.

the house hasn't changed. you hadn't really expected it to; it's not like it's been that long since you were last here. you don't bother even sneaking a peek at your ex boyfriend's bedroom as joel leads you upstairs, curiosity nonexistent.

you're not sure why you expect him to take you into his office, maybe sit on the couch with you and talk. to your surprise he leads you straight past the door, down the hallway to what you can only assume is his bedroom - a place you've never been in all your months of being with him.

"sit down," he tells you softly as he opens the door, pulling you slowly inside and nodding toward the queen sized bed, "i'll get you something to wear."

"okay," you breathe, barely looking at him as you examine the room in front of you, large but cozy, cool colors but a warm atmosphere, framed music posters and blueprints covering the walls - exactly what you'd expect from someone like joel. you shuffle forward and drop your bag at the end of his bed, sitting on the edge of it while he goes to his dresser.

you end up in one of his sleep shirts and a pair of his underwear, loving the feeling of being his again, even if neither of you have actually talked about what exactly this means for your relationship. he helps you change, tugging off your worn-out jeans and the same shirt you've worn for three days in a row, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he pulls off your panties and replaces them with his boxers. it's not sexual, but part of you still longs to pull him on top of you, just feel his weight, smell his cologne.

he pulls back the duvet and helps you climb inside onto your stomach, rubbing your arms and shoulders and releasing some of the tension you've been feeling for the past month. you feel him press another kiss to the back of your neck, pushing your hair out of the way and stroking it gently, giving you all the care and attention you've been aching for. his hands are so big, so comforting and safe, touching you everywhere without any expectations or underlying motive.

"i missed you, daddy," you whisper against his pillow, not sure if he can even hear you, even more unsure whether it's okay to use that word anymore.

he doesn't reply right away, still kneading his thumbs into the base of your back and massaging you gently. you hear him inhale and exhale deeply a few times, like he's biding time while he figures out what to say.

"sorry," you wince, "joel."

he releases you then, helps you turn over so you're on your back and peering up at him with uncertainty. he sits on the edge of the bed and reaches down to thumb your cheek, eyes sad and tired.

"i wanna be that for you, sweetheart," he murmurs, brow furrowing, "i do. i want it more than you even realize," he takes a breath, biting down on his lip briefly, "i just... i need you to tell me somethin'. be honest with me now."

your heart skips a beat, "what?"

"when you said you loved me..." his voice breaks a bit and you ache to reach for him, cup his cheek and hold him close, "was it because of what we've been doin'?" he seems to reassess his words, shaking his head slightly, "i mean, did it...did you actually mean it? or was it... was it just part of the game?"

you stare at him for a few seconds, lips parting and eyes going slightly wide. without a second thought you do exactly what you'd just been thinking about, reaching up to place your hand against his face, feeling his scruff beneath your palm. he leans in and takes a breath, peering into your eyes with a yearning you can't describe, can only feel.

you shake your head slowly, "joel," you whisper, "it's never been a game."

his eyes close, stuttering out another breath when your thumb strokes his cheek soothingly. unable to hold back anymore, you lean up to capture his mouth in a soft kiss, sweet and tender and familiar. his hand finds the back of your head, pulls you closer, claims you again.

he fucks you slow.

it's never been like this, never has he fucked you the way he fucks you now. you barely speak, just moan and whimper and sigh and melt into each other the way you've never truly been able to, not without prying ears and a time limit hanging over your heads. your hands tangle in his hair while he hits that deep spot inside you, holds you close, buries his face in your neck and breathes you in, pounds into you relentlessly like you'll both come apart at the seams if he lets go.

you're biting it back, trying not to say it as much as you desperately want to, still unsure if this is really want he wants. just tell me what to do and i'll do it. i don't care, i'm yours. he looks into your eyes and you can't help but start crying again, overwhelmed by the warmth of him, the safety. he thumbs your tears and kisses them away.

"say it," he murmurs to you as you both near your inevitable release, the tension building and building as he grabs your face with both hands and fucks you with purpose, with passion, "say it, babygirl, tell me."

you shake your head, suddenly self conscious, suddenly afraid. the feelings from earlier tonight rise back in your chest, making a home in the back of your throat as a sob threatens to rip through it.

"it's okay," he whispers, voice trembling with the speed of his thrusts, "it's okay, honey, i wanna hear you say it," he furrows his brow and releases a groan, so close to the edge, "please, baby, say it. need you to say it."

you pull him close, grip his back, press your lips to his ear, "daddy."

he groans, dark and rough, "that's it," he murmurs, "that's it baby, i'm your daddy. that's right." he pulls back to look at you, eyes meeting yours in a passionate gaze that lasts forever, "say it again."

"daddy," you whine, unable to unlock your eyes from his, lip trembling as you submit entirely to him, "feels so good, daddy."

there's something in his expression you can't place, something in his words that reverberates in your brain like a pinball. say it again... you realize it means more than you'd initially thought. he's not just asking you to say one word - he's asking for three.

"i love you," you cry out just as he presses his thumb to your clit, pushes you over the edge, "i love you."

he comes just as you do, an animalistic sound tearing from his throat as your fingers scramble for purchase at his back, holding him impossibly close to the point where his entire body weight is on top of you, but you don't care. all you can feel is the way his heart beats against your chest, the way his gasps match yours, finding the same rhythm.

you lay there still for what feels like eternity, joel laying on top of you with his cock still deep inside and his forehead pressed against your shoulder. your tears have stopped but you feel the dampness of his own on your skin, hear the gasp he lets out as he sets his emotions free.

"i love you too," he whispers in your ear, breath hot and quick, voice wrecked, "god, i love you so much."

for the first time, you stay the night.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #*#fic: bd!joel

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such-expensive-mistakes · 7 months

Text

Superpham AU (part 4)

Original prompt + parts 1-3

Masterpost

-----

It's not the most awkward dinner Lois has ever had, but only because she's dined with literal supervillains before.

Danny is poking at his Mongolian beef with his fork more than he's actually eating it. Lois can hardly blame him; it’s been a difficult few days for her and she’s not the one who just landed in a different dimension from the one she grew up in. But Danny certainly isn’t up to keeping conversation going.

Jon is making a valiant effort, but he seems distracted. He keeps shooting looks at Lois and Clark when he thinks they’re not looking, and while he recounts everything he and Damian got up to (not too much trouble, thankfully, although that wasn’t saying much), he’s less enthusiastic than he would normally be.

Clark keeps shooting Jon worried looks when he thinks Jon isn’t looking. Lois will have to ask him how that conversation went; it seems like it was rough on both of them.

Eventually, even Jon runs out of things to say, and the four of them sit around the table, eating their Chinese takeout in silence.

“So, Danny,” Lois finally says. “I don’t know how the dimension you grew up in differs from this one, but if you have any questions about anything, please ask one of us.”

“It’s not that different,” Danny says. “I mean, it is in some ways, but it’s still Earth, you know?”

Lois isn’t entirely certain she does, but this doesn’t seem to be the time to ask. Maybe when things are less fresh.

Jon has no such compunctions. “What’s the biggest difference?”

Danny looks thoughtful. “You guys have a lot of superheroes here,” he finally says.

“What kind of superheroes did your other world have?” Jon asks eagerly.

“We mostly didn’t,” Danny says. “I mean, I guess Phantom kind of counts. But that’s it.”

“That’s it?” Jon is clearly flabbergasted by this. Lois fights a smile, and she can see Clark doing the same thing. Jon has never known a world without the Justice League, but she and Clark can both remember when superheroes were much, much rarer.

“Most people probably wouldn’t even count Phantom,” Danny says. “The kids mostly did, but a lot of adults didn’t trust him because he was… because he wasn’t exactly human.”

Combined with what Danny said before about that interdimensional portal, this is painting a picture Lois really doesn’t like.

“There are folks like that everywhere, unfortunately,” Clark says. “And you can’t always change their minds. But I believe most people are better than that."

Judging by Danny's expression, he wasn't entirely convinced of that. Lois couldn't blame him; she has enough trouble seeing the good in people the way Clark did, and the other dimension sounds worse than hers in this regard.

Danny doesn’t seem inclined to talk about it any further. Silence lingers for just a beat too long before he speaks. “Oh, the sun’s yellow here. That’s different, too.”

-----

The front door slams, shaking the house, and Jon scrambles into the kitchen.

“Where’s Ma and Pa?” he demands.

Kon mentally says goodbye to his tentative plans for the day. Not that he minds hanging out with Jon, but he’s clearly upset about something. Kon’s good at a lot of things, but emotional conversations is not one of them.

“They’re in town for the day,” Kon says. “You’re lucky they didn’t hear you slam the door like that.”

“Did you know about Danny?” Jon demands.

“Who?”

“Dan-El.”

Clark texted a couple of days ago, telling Kon to call when he had time. Kon has been putting it off, knowing that Clark has better ways of getting in touch with him if there’s a real emergency. That’s starting to seem like a mistake.

He doesn’t answer Jon right away, which Jon seems to take as its own answer.

“Did everyone know but me?” Jon demands.

The thing is, Kon is pretty sure he's not supposed to know about Dan-El. Lois and Clark have never breathed a word about him in Kon's hearing.

He only knows because he spent an afternoon helping Ma go through some old boxes up in the attic and found a box of photos-- mostly of Clark as a kid, but some of Ma and Pa when they were younger.

"Oh goodness," Ma had said, when she'd notices what Kon was looking at. "I keep telling myself I'm going to organize those and put them in an album, but I never get around to it."

She'd sat down next to Kon and looked through the pictures with him, pointing out her favorites and telling stories to accompany them. ("And that one was from just after Clark's tenth birthday-- we had to get a new door because his strength was just coming in and he broke the old one.")

Then Kon had pulled out a photo of a toddler, sitting on the front porch with Pa. He'd thought it was a picture of Clark at first, but Pa's hair was considerably more gray than it was in the pictures from Clark's childhood, and Ma had just told him that the porch had been rebuilt and expanded after Clark broke the old one in tenth grade.

"Oh, that's Daniel," Ma said. She'd gently taken the photo from Kon's hand and ran a finger over not-Clark's face. "He was our first grandson-- Lois and Clark's oldest." She'd gone on to tell him the whole sad story.

There's a small headstone for Daniel Kent in the Smallville cemetery, right next to Pa's parents. Kon thinks it must have been Ma or Pa's idea; there was no body to bury and as far as he knows, Lois and Clark never visit it.

“I don’t think that’s it,” Kon says. “I think it’s just not something they talk about.” Jon doesn’t look convinced, so he adds, “They told you now, right?”

“Only after he showed up!”

“Wait, what?” Kon is starting to think he really should have replied to that message from Clark.

-----

Not for the first time, Clark wishes there was a handbook for this sort of thing. But oddly enough, parenting manuals generally don’t cover how to talk to your long-lost son about his alien heritage. He’s put this off long enough already; Danny had spent most of the previous day out with Lois, picking up all the necessities he didn’t have.

“So…” Danny says, kicking his feet a little. He’s sitting next to Clark on this skyscraper, his feet dangling over the edge. It makes Clark a little nervous, seeing how Danny can’t fly yet, but he also knows he’s fast enough to catch Danny if he were to fall.

"Lois said you're an alien?" The words are softened by the blatant curiosity in Danny's tone, and Clark remembers Lois recounting how excited Danny was to meet J'onn and to see space from the Watchtower.

It's a sentiment Clark can understand. He's traveled through space and met aliens both hostile and friendly. He regularly meets with his colleagues on an orbiting space station. And yet, seeing his adopted planet from space still fills him with awe.

"When I was born, my parents— my birth parents— already knew our planet, Krypton, was dying," Clark begins. It's not an easy story to tell, but the grief is old. Not gone, but distant. It's a place and a people he will never know except through stories and the archives in the Fortress— but those, at least, he can share. He tells Danny this, too, and promises to take him to the Fortress soon. It would be easier if Danny could fly, but he'll make it work.

"You should talk to Kara, too," Clark adds.

"Who's Kara?"

"My cousin. Right now she's in space, on a Justice League mission, but you'll meet her when she gets back. She was a teenager when Krypton was destroyed; she has firsthand memories." He’ll save explaining the part where she got caught in suspended animation for later; he’s dumped a lot of information on Danny already.

“You said something the other night about yellow sun radiation?” Danny asks.

“It’s what gives Kryptonians our power, here on Earth,” Clark says.

“And what powers are those, exactly?” Danny seems more hesitant than Clark would usually expect of a teenager finding out he’s going to develop superpowers— but then, they already know Danny grew up in a world where that sort of thing was feared and looked down upon.

“Enhanced sense, enhanced strength and speed, flight, invulnerability— there are others, but those are the main ones to expect.”

Danny nods thoughtfully.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #superpham au #fanfic #dc x dp fic #the continuity for the supers gives me a headache so I'm sticking with the origins I know best #slightly less angst this time #slightly more setup for Shenanigans

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cambrinkisbae · 2 months

Text

·:*¨༺ Vacation ༻¨*:·

paige bueckers x reader

summary - you take paige and her team to a lakeside cabin for a vacation

warnings:

-smut

-minors dni

authors note - this is only my second time writing smut so don't judge if it's bad or something

Qadence made the final shot in the last 2 seconds and just like that, the uconn women's basketball team won another game. i immediately rose from my seat and cheered loudly.

my eyes switched from the score board to qadence to paige faster than ever. as i looked down at the blonde from the bleachers i saw that she already looking at me.

me and paige had been dating for 3 months now but it felt like i had know her my entire life. her blue eyes stared at me while a smile was plastered on her pretty face. even sweaty and panting, she is the most beautiful girl i've ever layed my eyes on.

the entire team walked around the bleachers high fiving fans and signing sweatshirts. instead of rushing down the steps to give my girlfriend my attention, i watched from atop and waited until the team was back in the locker room. paige kept glancing at me with a confused look as she took photos with her fans and all i did was smirk back at her.

after the crowd had settled down a bit i pushed through a couple groups of people and went straight around all the security to get to the team.

my friendship with the entire team was more popular now that me and paige were together. At first there were a couple pictures of me hugging caroline and aubrey but it quickly escalated to things like pictures of me and paige kissing and videos of after game celebrations (mainly posted by azzi).

this time no one saw me rushing to the lockers so no new pictures for a couple days hopefully. as i made my way to the girls i was trying to think of how to celebrate this win. it was a 34 point difference so it felt like just going out for drinks was underwhelming.

i walked through the opening to see the group of girls jumping around and squealing while also getting changed. my eyes quickly found paige and stuck as i walked up to her. i couldn't help but place a kiss on her lips. she gasped under her breath at me being so bold and swift but she quickly relaxed and kissed back. i pulled away slowly and pulled her back into a hug, wrapping my arms around her back.

"you did so good baby"

she laughed a little and dug her nose in between my neck and ear to hide her red face. usually me and paige wouldn't do a lot of public kisses and flirting but i physically couldn't resist from smashing my lips against hers.

the entire team pretended to ignore us and kept on getting their clothes changed. finally i pulled away and turned around to find a mirror to make sure my lipstick wasn't smudged.

after the team got changed and were ready to leave i looked around suspiciously before grabbing paige's hand and rushing out of the doors into the parking lot. my hand was glued to hers for the rest of the night.

paige laughed as i practically dragged her out of the locker room. a couple laughs left both of ours mouths once we actually got outside and realized it was raining.(did i bring her out there to see her with wet hair? yes i did)

"i have a surprise for you paige."

the blondes eyebrows furrowed inwards as she tilted her head to the side. i had a large smile plastered on my face. our eyes were locked together, almost having a conversation without speaking.

without hesitation paige placed her hands on my hips and pressed me against her car door and shaheed her lips against mine. a quick groan left my mouth at her touch. her hands roamed at my sides "what was that surprise huh?"

i slowly reached into my purse and pulled out a business card that had the address for a lakeside cabin that was luckily only a couple hours away.

"what? how did you-"

i cut her excitement off quickly.

"i have my ways"

i turned my head around to hide my smirk. she aggressively pushed her body against mine, pulling me into a tight hug. paige had been talking about this cabin for the past three weeks so i took this ein as an opportunity to take her there. this was the first time she got all giddy and truly giggly around me since her birthday party. i laughed at her embrace before pulling her arms off of me.

"ok we have to keep this a secret from the team be wise if they hear they will-"

"want to come with?"

i hear a familiar voice come from my right ear. There Azzi was standing with almost the entire team next to her. they heard everything so i guess they were coming with to.

a couple hours later chaos struck. we were all back at the house and everyone was packing as if we were staying for three years. but i won't leave out the fact that i did pack 15 different outfits for a 6 day trip. instead of packing and stressing in silence i played some dominic fike just to lighten the mood. i sat down on the couch scrolling on instagram waiting for another girl to ask where shoes were.

while i was zoned out on a rampage that someone made about paige (speak of the devil) she snuck up behind me and layed a couple of kisses along my neck.

"what're you looking at huh?"

my fingers quickly switched off of instagram to my homescreen. my hands went sweaty along with my forehead.

"nothing."

i sah without looking back at paige. she walked around the arm of the couch and sat down next to me. her hands made their way to my thigh and began to run up and under my shorts. i gently but down my lip, still trying to not look at paige's icy blue eyes to prevent myself from folding. paige leaned in close tto my ear.

"how long do you stalk those little....accounts?"

she whispered in my ear. my heart stuttered, even though she was my girlfriend and not my crush i always found myself getting nervous when her husky voice was let out. i'm positive she was doing that on purpose. i let out a stifled sigh and end the tension by standing up.

"was that...nika calling for me? hold on i'll be right back i think uhm nika needs me over there"

i chuckle softly and try to play it off like i wasnt soaked right now. as i rushed down the hallway into nikas room, i could see out the corner of my eye that paige was staring at my ass. a wave of redness came over my face once i caught her. i step into nikas room and shut the door quickly before giving up and letting gravity pull me down to the end of her bed.

after staying in nikas room for a little while and watching her frantically pack, everyone was done packing and ready to get on the road. it was around 4 by now so we would probably get to the cabin later at night since it was a whole 3 hours away.

all the girls got into their assigned cars. aubrey,caroline,me,paige,azzi, inês, jana, and ice were in one mini van while amari,nika,qadence,kk, ayanna, ashlynn, and aaliyah were in another.

the hours went by quickly with the right amount of music and arguments on breakfast foods. next thing you know we were at the cabin. the air was fresher than on campus. it was just us girls there. no other strangers no other people. this was the only group of girls that got each-other and knew almost every detail about each-others lives. we all felt extremely comfortable with each-other. once we got to the destination and parked and all that other stuff, everyone claimed rooms and fell asleep quickly.

i attempted to go to sleep in my own bed but it felt weird without paige. i gently slipped on a pair of socks and snuck over into paige's room. trying not to wake her up, i slipped under her arms becoming the little spoon for the rest of the night.

the next morning the first thing i noticed when my eyes actually started to open was the sun peering through the curtains of a huge window. i rubbed my eyes open and stretched my arms out slowly. the first thing i did. was gena my phone to check the time and my expression switched quickly when i read the time.

"11 am what the fuck!"

i stood up and darted across the room, through the hallway, and to the main living room that was next to the kitchen. the smell of pancake batter and bacon lingered in the air. i looked around and saw everyone sitting around just talking. plates were scattered across the tables and counters.

"thank you guys for waking me up!"

a sarcastic tone "accidentally" slips out of my words. still irritated, i sat myself down on the couch and layed my head back. i noticed a presence behind me and as i was about to be pissy at whoever was behind me, paige's hands began rubbing my shoulders and collarbones.

i let my head rest further back just enough to graze her stomach. she looked down at me with her icy blue eyes and smiled softly. how could i stay pissed when she kept piercing me with those godamn eyes.

she walked over to sit down next to me and her hand almost immediately was glued to my thigh. her thumb rubbed back and forth over my skin that was peeking through my pajama shorts.

"can we go swimming today baby?"

i said turning my head to face hers and leaning in closer to her ear.

"of course we can"

paige leaned on my shoulder while her hands wrapped around my waist. just as my eyes were closing, caroline popped up infront of me holding a plate with pancakes and bacon on it. without speaking, i give caroline a thank you look and take the plate.

finally i slipped into my bathroom and put on a two piece bikini that was a pale pink color. i let my hair out of the recked ponytail it was in. and throw in some dry shampoo before grabbing the sunscreen and heading outside.

outside there were a couple chairs that one of the girls set out the night before. i set my sunscreen and towel on a red chair and dipped my feet in the water slowly. before i could even get my other foot in, i saw paige leap into the water (managing to splash an insane amount of water on me.)

"hey! did you put on sunscreen?"

i didnt even sorry about the fact that i was completely soaked, only about the fact that paige burns very easily.

paige stopped her playful water splashing to side eye me. taking care of her skin wasn't exactly her strong suit.

"c'mere"

paige sulks and drags herself out of the water. i empty out the red chair and sit in it before tapping my lap, motioning for paige to sit down. i gently rubbed sunscreen on her back even though she kept trying to wriggle out of the grip i had on her waist.

------------------------------------------------------------

after a lot of splashing water, dancing, trying water aerobics, and almost drowning eachother, most of the girls went back inside to dry off. it was around 2 pm now and me and paige couldn't bring ourself to get out of the water.

right now she had her arms wrapped around my waist and her fingers were messing around with the strings that hung off of my bikini bottoms. her chin was on top of my head and our legs were intertwined under the water.

"paige can we do something....i guess try something"

me and paige were together for almost 4 months now and the most we had done was making out. everytime we would try to do more it would get interrupted.

"what's in mind princess"

i could tell that paige was purposely trying to get me to say it just to tease me. i sigh loudly and turn around to face my girlfriend.

"your really gonna make me say it p"

paige nodded silently with a smirk plastered on her face.

"can we just go deeper in the water for a little bit paige"

i could tell that she was holding back a huge outburst of laughter. she placed her hands under my thigh and lifted my legs around her waist. she carried me further in the water so that only our chests were above water.

while she still had a grip under my thighs, she layed me down against the water to get my head wet before quickly bringing me back up and into her lips. a small gasp left my mouth once the cold water touched my head. i moved my hands around the back of her neck, twisting my head to side just enough for our noses to wedge together perfectly.

paige slowly but surely moved her lips down to my exposed neck and gently bit around the skin, sendjng small whines out of my lips. i threw my head back and gave her more room to work her lips around.

this is usually where we would have to stop, either because i got scared or someone would walk in on us. but that definitely wasn't the case right now. i felt paige's hands tease around the hem of my bikini bottoms, rolling the edge down a bit to expose a little bit more of my hip.

her lips made their way back up to mine while she worked her way down into my bottoms. she started rubbing my clit with her thumb, already forcing stifled moans out of my throat.

she parted her lips for her tongue to slip out and against mine. as our tongues mingled and twisted together she began circling her thumb faster before dipping two fingers in me. i felt her finger pumping in and out at a steady pace. her lips were still attached to me while she brought me close to my climax.

"fuck"

paige took that a sign to go a little faster. while she practically swallowed every moan and whine i let out, i began bucking my hips against paige's hand. my bikini bottoms had made they're way down my thighs, giving paige more room to work with.

my legs wrapped tighter around paige's waist as i came for the first time. strings of curse words left my mouth mixed with her name.

i noticed paige slowing her pace and coming to a stop.

"paige please..."

i whined in her ear after pulling my lips off of hers. all i could see was a strong smirk on paiges face. she kept her fingers in me but stayed still, forcing me to ride them.

i began grinding my hips against her fingers. just as i was about to speed up, i felt paige's hand grip on my waist and slow me down. nothing could explain how badly i wanted to go faster but i couldn't deny paige's touch.

she moved her fingers around inside me, teasing through my folds. even though her hand was basically sitting still it felt like she was doing this to me.

once i reached my second orgasm she started guiding my through it again. using her hand to speed up my hips. i let out a louder moan and prayed that we were deep enough in the lake for no one to here me.

finally, my thighs released the tight grip they had around paige's hips. she slowly took out her fingers but kept them under water. i gently pulled up my swim suit bottoms and brought my legs down to rest.

"you did so good baby"

i whispered against her neck while floating back to the cabin. i placed a couple kisses against her flushed lips knowing that i would repay the favor later tonight.

#paige bueckers #paigebueckersxreader #uconn wbb #uconhuskies #smut #basketball

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untoldstar · 1 year

Text

rich! yandere x fem reader pt.1

warning: yandere themes, obsessive behavior, stalking, harassment, slight nsfw mentions

You let out an exasperated sigh as another gift lands on your desk from the hands of your coworker, you already know who it’s from, they have been coming non stop, they achieved the purpose of charming you the first few times but when you expressed disinterest in him and they kept on coming that’s when the charm was lost, like clockwork you phone rang, you stared at the name on you screen the conversation that’s about to play out printed like a script in your mind, each time you receive a present from him he makes sure to call you to check in, though your convinced it’s nothing more than his method of boasting for his own egos sake, you sighed and picked up raising the phone to you ear “did you get my gift, lovely?” is his immediate question as soon as you pick up, you stay silent, he very well knows the answer to his own question, it’s quite easy to get a delivery through to workers in your company and even if it wasn’t he’d go to lengths to make it easy for himself “hm why aren’t you answering me?” he asked after your lengthy silence, you rolled your eyes at his second useless question “because you know the answer, what’s the point of calling if you already know i received your gift?” you heard him chuckled and that only made you more annoyed with the situation “ah you’re right..well, love, do you like it? is it to your taste? I have faith in my choices when it comes to you so if trust my gift is to your liking” your desk had a variety of bags, smaller ones with rich perfumes that your sample because they were way too expensive to purchase, bigger bags with pieces of clothing that you didn’t even see in the store but instead liked pictures of models wearing them, even bags with the logo of a makeup brand you like were there, they were all things you’ve always wanted but not this way, not when the knowledge that all this is in fact what you like would paint a smug smile on his face, so you spoke in the most flat tone of of voice you could master “nope, your faith is flawed I actually hate it all” you ignored the judging look from a coworker that overheard you and listened in to his reply “ah really?..seems i’ve made the wrong choice then. No matter, life is filled with material goods I’ll make sure to find exactly what you like, what you’ll admit you like, that is.” you grit your teeth, he was being insufferable you didn’t bother with this anymore and hung up leaning back in your chair sighing, you had convinced yourself he’d stop eventually but each time you were becoming less sure of it.

It was the end of the week, finally you could rest, this week had really worn you out.

You reached for the keys in your pocket while walking up the steps to your house before stopping as you glanced up and saw a bag in front of your door, your shoulders sank ‘he’s sending them to my house now?’ you looked behind you, scanning the street, seeing nothing you walked towards the bag pausing for a moment before taking a hold of it and unlocking the door, you stepped in closing the door behind you and leaving the bag at the door, you were too exhausted you’d deal with that later.

You carried on with your night but every once in a while your thoughts would drift back to him, why did he sound it to your home this time instead of your office? why hasn’t he called like he usually does? it made you nervous, it was unusual, there had to be something different about the present for the entire setting to change, you had enough of the nagging curiosity so here you were standing in front the foot of your bed, staring at the thin black box in front of you, whatever was inside it it was definitely expensive that much isn’t different or new.

You reached for it and removed the top part of the books and your hands stilled as your eyes widened slightly ‘what the fuck?’ inside the box was a neatly placed navy blue lingerie set, you took it out and held it up in front of you to take a better look at it and your cheeks heated it up at the thought of you wearing it and how you’d look, it was a pretty set, the color complemented your skin tone, you loved it but that vanished when you remembered the source and it all clicked, why he didn’t send it to your office, why he didn’t call, he knew your reaction too well, a card was left on the box with elegant handwriting on it

“I hope this meets your taste, if it does we ought to make good use of it the next time we meet.”

#fem reader #yandere fanfiction #yandere #rich yandere #yandere x reader #obsessive yandere #why do i write when i’m half asleep #yandere fanfic

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fwckriley · 11 months

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I've read lots of fanfics and headcanons about Ghost with partners who are usually kind, pure, like a angel, all flowers and butterflies and stuff etc. I get it, but no offense, and looking at it from another perspective, when you think about people who have experienced childhood trauma, they tend to repeat certain patterns. I'm not saying that every person with a traumatic past will have a toxic relationship.

But, you see: I personally believe that Ghost would never give a chance to someone he deems "perfect," innocent, pure, because that's completely opposite to how he sees himself. How could he be in a relationship with someone so different from him? How could he be understood by someone who doesn't have a certain darkness within? I'm not saying it wouldn't work, but I think a part of him would never fully reveal itself out of fear of being judged. On the other hand, I believe he would also seek out people who, in some way, are unattainable, to reaffirm that little voice inside him saying he doesn't deserve to be loved. Of course, none of this is really true, but that's how the mind of someone with many traumas tends to work.

I think he would avoid relationships and commitments for a long time, and wouldn't be able to choose someone outside of his field of work. "Normal" people could never understand the things he does, they could try, but never fully comprehend. In my opinion, he would fall in love, without realizing it, with someone from his field of work, probably a teammate with whom he shared many experiences. Someone with whom he has a deep connection. And, as I mentioned at the beginning, I believe he would unconsciously seek out more complex people. I see him attracted to people with a similar outlook on life, who are tougher and more realistic. Who share a darker sense of humor. Who have also experienced some kind of trauma in the past, so they can understand how he feels. I imagine him in a relationship with someone who has these characteristics, and unlike him, is ambiverted or extroverted. Someone who challenges him, calls him out when he's wrong, or is determined. Someone honest, but not rude. Someone funny, smart, creative. Someone with a thirst for adventure and a spark, to contrast with some parts of him.

But honestly, I can't picture him with someone he deems pure and perfect. He doesn't feel worthy or even attracted to that. He tends to surround himself with people who are similar to him because that's where he feels comfortable. Just to clarify, it doesn't necessarily mean that this partner in question would be a bad or toxic person, but simply someone similar to him. I believe Price is the best example of that, who is good but not innocent, not entirely right.

In the end, I think the relationship with the chosen person would be a challenging but functional one. Not toxic, not abusive or destructive, just difficult. Traumatized people are human and fully capable of relating to each other, but it takes patience and determination, and a lot of work. I think that over time, they would improve greatly. Because Ghost's biggest fear is one-sidedness. He needs to know that he is protecting and helping, but he also needs to feel protected and helped.

#modern warfare 2 #modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley headcanons #call of duty mw2 #simon riley x y/n #cod imagine #call of duty #cod x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon riley headcanons

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withacapitalp · 1 year

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Daisies

Read it on ao3 instead

Eddie was never a deep sleeper. Years of living in cars and on couches taught him to always have an ear out. Always be able to wake up in an instant, always be alert, ready to fight whoever might be coming at you. Living with Wayne helped to ease that compulsion a bit, but in general, Eddie was never truly fully relaxed when he slept. Everything that had happened over Spring Break hadn’t helped matters in the slightest.

So he was awake the second Steve started to choke.

He was so quick that Steve was still asleep, curled up on his side in the absolutely adorable way that usually made Eddie smile. There was no smile tonight, just an anxious little whimper and a boy frozen in fear, because his partner was choking on nothing and not waking up.

“Steve?” Eddie whispered, reaching out with a shaking hand and touching Steve’s shoulder. “Baby?”

Steve continued to gasp, his chest heaving in a strange and awful way as he tried and failed to breathe. Eddie was about to do something more, anything to make him stop, when Steve’s eyes opened. He was the picture of panic for all of two seconds, before he was sitting up, roughly coughing.

He hacked out a few more harsh sounding noises, before he spat into his open palm, taking a relieved breath as whatever was lodged in his throat came out. Eddie would’ve been relieved too, confused, but okay now that Steve was safe.

And then he saw what was in Steve’s hand.

A daisy. Steve had just coughed up a fucking daisy. And, judging by the completely blasé expression he had on his face as he looked down at it, this wasn’t the first time.

What the fuck?

Eddie had seen Hanahaki before, just once. Some girl in middle school had fallen in love with a dumb jock, a classic move that had felt like a cliche to him at the time. When the jerk rejected her in front of everyone, she had collapsed to her knees in the middle of the cafeteria, spitting out thorny roses till she passed out.

She lived, but just barely, and had gotten the surgery to remove the roses wrapped around her lungs. By the next week she was happy as a clam, living without a single memory of the incident that had left the rest of the school in total shock.

Seeing it now gave Eddie the same exact feelings he had all those years ago. A deep sense of discomfort from encroaching on something that incredibly intimate, an odd mix of revulsion and jealousy, and a deep seated wish to be anywhere but where he was at this moment.

It was even worse now that it was Steve.

His boyfriend slid out of bed, quietly padding over to the ensuite without even so much as a glance Eddie’s way, leaving behind the flower. Steve didn’t shut the door all the way, so Eddie could hear him cough a few more times. As he did, Eddie picked up the daisy, examining it.

It was just a regular daisy, white as snow except for a few spots of blood sitting innocently on its petals. Nothing special about it, nothing significant. Apart from the fact that it was Steve’s daisy.

Steve’s daisy for someone that wasn’t him.

“Who?” Eddie asked when Steve came back into view looking utterly exhausted. His voice was flat, lacking any of the emotion he usually had. It was like someone had torn his heart out, and now he was just hollow, hollow, hollow.

Steve hummed in confusion, quirking his head to the side as he leaned his entire body against the doorway, blinking slowly.

“Who is it?” Eddie clarified, holding up the daisy. Any trace of sleepiness vanished from Steve’s features. He stood up painfully straight, even took a step back, like Eddie had screamed instead of whispered.

“I’m not mad,” Eddie rushed to say, trying to calm Steve’s quiet panic. He wasn’t mad, his heart was just shattering, falling to pieces on the floor between them. Was that better? “I…I just want to know.”

He didn’t just want to, he had to. He had to know who had stolen Steve’s heart, or if it had ever been his to claim in the first place. Had Steve had the daisies the entire time? Was he just humoring Eddie anytime he said he loved him? Eddie didn’t want to think that Steve had entered into their relationship out of pity, or some sense of obligation, but any and all confidence Eddie had previously had flew out the window the second that daisy had appeared.

Were they from Nancy?

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Steve muttered, avoiding eye contact as he played with a loose thread on his pajama pants.

He looked oddly vulnerable there, half dressed and making himself smaller than he was, hiding in the doorway instead of curling up in Eddie’s arms where he belonged. On any other night, Eddie would coax him to bed with promises and teasing little jabs that made him both laugh.

But not tonight. Tonight there were daisies in the bathroom sink and one in Eddie’s hand ruining everything they had built.

“I deserve to know when my own boyfriend is in love with someone else,” Eddie hissed, harsher than he meant to. There was a bitter taste in his mouth, and fuck, maybe he was mad. Not really at Steve, but at the world. The chaotic black universe that they lived in, whatever awful god lived out in the cosmos that had chosen to damn him specifically.

Whatever deity existed that loved to give Eddie good things and snatch them away the second he got comfortable.

“They aren’t- I’m not in love with someone else,” Steve protested weakly, still looking anywhere but at Eddie.

Eddie scoffed, holding up the daisy between them, pinching it in between his thumb and forefinger like it was something exceptionally disgusting to hold. He had the rabid urge to tear the flower to shreds, destroy it before it could destroy everything they had.

“It’s not like that,” Steve insisted stubbornly, finally looking up at Eddie with fiery eyes. He went to keep going but the determination disappeared and an odd expression overtook Steve’s features. He braced himself against the door frame, bringing one hand up to his mouth as another bout of coughing overtook him.

Eddie watched Steve struggle, losing any of the merciless rage that had been rushing through his veins as he watched the love of his life attempt to take a breath. When Steve slid slowly to the floor, Eddie was there, kneeling beside him with a soft hand on his shoulder.

“What can I do? Do you need me to call someone? You need a hospital, don’t you? This is serious, and you can’t breathe. Should I start doing CPR or the Heimlich or-” Eddie cut himself off with a jolt, biting his tongue to stop any more panicked rambles from escaping.

He was spending way too much time around Robin.

Steve shook his head, still coughing. Two more daisies tumbled out into his hand before he dragged a long breath in, letting his head tip back and hit against the jamb.

“I took my meds,” Steve whispered, his voice ragged and painful sounding, “It’ll clear up. I just have to get out any ones that actually sprouted. It’s not dangerous, it just hurts.”

He said it so plainly, in such a Steve way. Like it didn’t matter at all that it hurt, or that it seemed pretty goddamn scary to choke on daisies on the regular.

Despite everything that was happening, Eddie let out a soft little incredulous laugh, reaching over and kissing Steve’s forehead. It was probably a strange thing to do, all things considered, but Steve was smiling now, giving Eddie a starry eyed look that made it all inexplicably feel okay.

“How long have you- why not just get the surgery?” Eddie asked, reaching out and grabbing the hand that wasn’t currently full of daisy blossoms, “It’s way safer-“

“No,” Steve said, soft, but firm. He carefully placed the blooms down next to them, toying with the petals before squeezing Eddie’s fingers and rubbing the column of his throat, his eyes far far away. “I won’t.”

Won’t. Not can’t. Steve would not do it, which meant whoever they were for mattered to him. Hanahaki surgery was one hundred percent- not only did it get rid of the flowers, but the emotions that had caused them in the first place. You never remembered the person who had made them grow.

Eddie quickly ran through their friends, all of the people in Steve’s life. He could only think of one person who Steve could be in love with, one person who didn’t love him back. At least, not the way Steve probably wanted her to.

“Nancy,” Eddie stated rather than asked, already knowing the answer. Steve still loving Nancy wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Nancy had made it clear that she didn’t love Steve like that, and they had both moved on. Maybe Steve could still love Eddie part of the way like this, maybe that could be enough. Having a bit of Steve’s heart was better than none at all.

But Steve shook his head, still fiddling with the petals of his daisies.

“I told you, it’s not like that,” Steve whispered, looking utterly miserable. He coughed half-heartedly, but no flowers emerged. When Steve was done he sighed, closing his eyes and worrying his lip the way he always did when he was trying to keep his emotions steady.

Eddie was missing something. Something obvious. It should have been a big glaring neon sign right in front of him with the most basic answer in the world. But try as he might, he still couldn’t see who the daisies would be for if not Nancy.

Who else could Steve love that didn’t love him back?

He should stop asking. This wasn’t the time. His boyfriend was in pain in every way, and Steve didn’t need to be interrogated. They had all the time in the world, Eddie needed to just drop it. Steve would tell him, eventually. He always did. Getting secrets from Steve took a long time, but he always gave in at some point. Eddie just had to be patient, and kind, and everything Steve was so good at.

“Then what’s it like?” Eddie asked anyway, his curiosity overtaking the selfless part of him that was cursing his own name.

Steve contemplated his answer for a long time, spitting up another daisy before he finally began to speak.

“When I was in third grade, our teacher had us raise caterpillars into butterflies to teach us about life cycles. Did you ever do that?”

“No,” Eddie immediately replied, confused and slightly irritated by the sudden change of path. What did butterflies have to do with Steve’s love life?

“We should do it together. It was fun,” Steve said, a wistful little smile on his face as he stared out in the distance, “Everyone got their own glass jar with twigs and leaves and all that, and one little green caterpillar. We could name them whatever we wanted, and Miss Katie would put their name on the jar so we would know who’s was who’s. I named mine Beatrix after the woman who wrote my favorite story.”

None of this mattered. Was Steve trying to distract him? It wasn’t usually the way he did things, but Eddie had also never expected he was hiding something like this.

“Wh-“

“Eventually she became a butterfly,” Steve continued, steamrolling past Eddie’s attempt at asking what the hell was going on. He was speaking, and he wouldn’t let himself be interrupted. Eddie settled back, trying to hide how annoyed he was.

“Beatrix was a monarch. She was so pretty, Eddie, I wanted to keep her forever. But Miss Katie said we had to let them go, or they would die. So we all brought our jars home, to let them free with our parents.” Steve was forced to stop here, another vicious round of choking producing three daisies, all bloodied. He placed them in a row with the other three, all six staring up accusingly at Eddie, like he was the reason they had appeared.

But he wasn’t. That was the whole problem.

“I knew exactly what I was going to do. There was this patch of daisies at the end of our garden. My mom had planted them when she and my dad first got married, and they were her favorite flowers. I thought she would like to let Beatrix live there, so we could see her till she flew away.” Steve explained.

Eddie had seen the daisies before. The garden itself was mostly gone by now, just empty plots of dirt with chicken wire around them, but the daisies were still there. They had lasted almost till November, pretty drops of white that stubbornly bloomed for as long as they could.

They looked just like the flowers Steve was coughing up.

A dark pit started to form in Eddie’s stomach as he took in the implications, the dots beginning to form a macabre picture that made him wish he had listened to his better instincts before. He shouldn’t have asked, he shouldn’t have pressed, Steve should have told him this story when he was ready.

But…maybe this was a blessing in disguise. Maybe Steve would have carried this alone forever.

“When I got home my parents were already gone. They had something they had to do, I can’t even remember what it was. The sitter was supposed to get there in an hour, but I was by myself. Just me and my butterfly,” Steve cut himself off with a single laugh that sounded more like a gasped out sob, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is so stupid.”

“No,” Eddie said firmly, holding Steve’s hand in a death grip, reaching out and taking the other one too just for good measure, pulling it away from his face so he couldn’t hurt himself, “it isn’t.”

Steve gave him a millisecond long smile, instantly going back to the somber mask he was wearing before.

“I wasn’t supposed to play outside if my parents weren’t home, but why should I listen? They weren’t here. They left again. My mom left again. She never used to leave before that year, but it felt like all she did was leave then. I went outside and over to the daisies, and I sat in front of them, just… just wanting my mama. Wanting her to come back, wanting her here with me, wanting her to love the daisies again like she used to,” Steve said, ducking his head down and lowering his voice till it was almost nothing.

They both knew he didn’t just mean the daisies, but neither mentioned it.

“I can still remember it, the first one. I thought I just had to cry, but couldn’t for some reason. Then I realized I already was crying, and there was still that feeling. The one you get when your throat closes, and you can’t breathe because there’s something blocking it up,” Steve untangled from Eddie, reaching up to his throat again.

Eddie had seen him do it a thousand times. He had thought it was related to the bats, some phantom feeling of a tail still wrapped around his neck trying to strangle him. Even given a million years, Eddie never would have gotten to the truth.

“I coughed up a flower. A daisy. It looked just like the ones right in front of me. I thought I was dreaming, but then I couldn’t stop coughing. I woke up by myself in the hospital,” Steve said, finishing his story with a whisper and a bitter little smile.

“Steve,” Eddie breathed, trailing off. He had no idea what to say, how to try and help. He needed to help, needed to do something, but what could Eddie do in the face of over a decade of knowing his love for his mother was unrequited?

“I love you,” Steve said, still reassuring Eddie, because that was who he was. He cared about everyone so much more than he cared about himself, even when they didn’t deserve it. “These don’t- they’re-“

“I understand,” Eddie replied, cutting Steve off as he reached over and pulled his boyfriend into his arms. Steve went easily, tucking himself against Eddie’s chest as he shook with another round of coughs. “Well I don’t know if I could ever understand, but I love you, and I’m here.”

The coughs subsided, but Steve’s shoulders continued to shake. Eddie hugged him impossibly closer, laying his cheek on the top of Steve’s head and closing his eyes to block out the image of the daisies.

“I love you. I love you, and I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

#Steve harrington #Eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie drabble #stranger things 4 #st 4 #hanahaki au #platonic hanahaki au #Steve harringtons mother #steve harrington #stranger things #st #eddie munson #st4 #Writing(withacapitalW)

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