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ssweetleaf · 11 months

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rosemary.

pairing— eddie munson x fem!reader

w/c— 2.2k

♡ summary— you and eddie have just got married, and seeing you in your pretty dress, all pure and innocent, he can’t quite wait until after the after party to get his hands on you.

♡ includes— SMUT 18+, corruption kink, semi public sex, mentions of eddie getting a boner in a church lol, unprotected p in v, (please wear protection!!) hand over mouth muffling, slight breeding kink, shitty ending!!!!!!

a/n— based off this lovely ask by @televisionboy pleasepleaseplease let me know what you think!! <3

˖ ࣪⭑

The ceremony was over, rings slid over knuckles and vows spoken, sealing it all with what was supposed to be a pretty kiss, turned a little crude— with Eddie dipping you back, fingertips tracing along your spine whilst his lips worked against yours, all sloppy and full of tongue and spit.

But it was your day. Your’s and Eddie’s— Mr and Mrs Munson, it was kind of odd once you said it out loud, barely twenty-three and already hitched, but you were in love and still extremely touchy. That much was evident once his gaze had flitted to you when walking down the isle— satin dress all tight and short, neckline low enough so the weight of your tits filled out the space, jiggling with each coordinated step and a pretty veil surrounding your shoulders, littered with sparkles and rhinestones, glistening in the light that filtered through the stained glass.

Shit. He was already hard by the time you had stood beside him, joining hands at the altar and he had to subtly adjust the crotch of his slacks— in a mere second the holy space had turned quite hellish, though how could anyone blame him when you looked like that. So pretty.

His wife.

So, the reception began— a free bar and sabbath crackling through the shitty speakers, and it didn’t take long for your guests to become— with lack of a better word— wasted.

And they wouldn’t notice the two of you gone for a little while…right?

˖ ࣪⭑

“Shit, sweetheart, been hard since we said our vows—” he groaned, palms heavy on your hips and kneading at the fatty parts, letting them slip, down, down and squeezing at the soft globes of your ass— prominent from underneath the tight satin. “You tryin’ to kill me?”

You beamed up at him, lazy smile and hooded eyes, a little inebriated by too much champagne and his kisses— hands smushed against his cheeks and continuously pecking, one, two, three, sucking his bottom lip between your teeth and lathering your tongue against it.

“Can’t believe you had a boner in front of the vicar, Ed.” You stifled a laugh, cheeks warming and you heard his chest rumble, pushing you further against the bathroom counter and urging you to jump up, helping you slide your ass against the cool marble, back pressing snug against the mirror while you started for the crimson silk of his tie.

You marvelled at him, the same as you had many times that night, cooing and batting your lids at how handsome he looked, all dressed up.

“So pretty, Eds—” your lips curved, tugging at the knot between his collar and easing it from his neck, haphazardly pushing the buttons through the holes while he sucked on the delicate skin of your neck, heavy with your perfume and slick with your sweat, he inhaled it deeply. “Can’t believe you’re all mine.”

Eddie tugged at your hair, tilting your chin and roaming at the new amount of skin revealed— the calluses on his palms were rough on your chest while they smoothed over the swell of your tits, carefully pushing away the flimsy straps that held your dress up and pulling the cups down, the weight of your tits heavy and spilling free, nipples hardening even with the stuffy atmosphere and he felt like drooling at the sight.

“My wife.” He spoke, simple and syrupy— eyes all gooey and soft, leaning forward to stop your ministrations to nuzzle the curve of his nose against yours. Sweet and not a care in the world in the moment, as if you weren’t having a quickie in the women’s restroom clad in your wedding attire. “when we get to the hotel room, I’m totally gonna love on you properly— candles and all that shit.”

But for now, he thought, he was gonna ruin you— taint the innocence of your dress and pretty veil, leave you impure and drooling, begging to serve like a good wife does.

His cock was swelling uncomfortably, pressing tight against his slacks, almost busting the zipper and he took a hold of your throat, squeezing at the sides, feeling the pre-cum start to drip once that look he knew so well dripped along your features then settled— dumbified and longing, honeyed irises turning glassy, lips all pouty and puffy.

All for him to corrupt. His pretty little bride.

“There she is.” Eddie cooed, pushing the skirt of your dress upwards, grabbing a fistful and tucking it underneath your bra— keeping it there so there wasn’t any interruptions between him and your pretty pussy.

The fabric was crinkling, and if you weren’t so inebriated from his existence, you would’ve berated him for it.

But you were in far too deep.

“You been thinkin’ about this too, haven’t you, sweetheart?” He mocked, tugging at the silk that covered your cunt, snapping the elastic crudely against your tummy, fingers dipping in, only for them to dip back out again. “Saw you watchin’ me, baby— looked like a little bitch in heat, clenchin’ your thighs and everything.”

Your cheeks flushed, heat travelling down your neck and right to your core, leaving your clit pulsing and restless, eager for EddieEddieEddie.

You nodded, big pout much akin to your big eyes, staring up at him and fiddling with his open shirt.

“Couldn’t help it, Eds,” you whined, head spinning from the constant pressing underneath the elastic. “You’re gonna be mine forever— gets me so worked up.”

He grinned, finally pulling your panties down your thighs and shoving them into his back pocket.

“My husband.” You hummed, cunt clenching at the mere sound on your tongue. Fuck, you loved the way it sounded.

“Aw shucks, honey, you really are tryna make me blush, hm?”

And he was, cherry blush smeared along his cheeks and down his neck, you could see it littering his collar bones and flickering down the span of his chest— black button up open and flowing at his sides.

Eddie took his first look at your pretty pussy, different now you were married, much more beautiful and it made his mouth water— so puffy and glistening with your slick, so wet you were dripping onto the counter beneath you, and he marvelled at the way you clenched around nothing.

“Shit, sweetheart, I need to be inside you,” he rushed out, pulling at his slacks and you helped him with his briefs, wet spot apparent and seam almost splitting at how tight they had become. “Promise I’ll eat this pussy later— treat you real nicely, like a little princess, hm?”

His cock was out, thick and long, looming over your pussy while he held it there, before smacking the head against your clit.

“That okay, baby? Gonna let me use you for a bit before I’m all sweet on you?”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, whining at his choice of words and the way his mushroomed tip nudged at your clit, pre-cum spreading along your slit and folds and making you even stickier than before.

“Yeah— need it s’bad.” You gurgled, tongue practically lolling out the side of your mouth and fingers clutching at his forearms, leaving crescent moons in their wake. “Want you to use me, Ed— use your wife.”

He groaned at your filthy mouth, though it wasn’t anywhere near as filthy as his and held the base of his cock, easing the head to your entrance and slipping slowly inside.

Your slick made it easy, slipping right in with barely any resistance, though the squeeze of your walls when you clenched around him had his knees starting to buckle.

“F-fuck, sweet girl—” he whined, bottoming out to the hilt, balls heavy against your ass and cock so full inside you, stretching you out and splitting you in two. “Look like a fuckin’ angel.”

You did, practically glowing, or maybe that was the sweat… or the champagne, though whatever it was, you looked beautiful— pure and sweet, pouting up and him, almost begging to be corrupted and dirtied. The thought made you pulse, made him twitch.

You were already babbling expletives, dirty words dripping from your tongue like honey, all while your lids started to grow heavier and heavier.

“Supposed to be my good little wife, honey—” he managed, groan rumbling in his chest and palms pawing at your tits. “You sure have got a filthy mouth.”

He had the audacity to smirk, balls deep inside, trying not to thrust too hard otherwise he’d cum too soon— though he still thought it was fitting to smirk.

You clenched around him. Hard. Wanting so badly to give him a taste of his own medicine and give him a little cocky smirk back, though with the way he pounded and the way his pretty tip nudged at your g-spot, you weren’t quite sure you could.

“Oh, pretty baby’s all fucked out.” He cooed with faux concern, mocking the pout that stayed put on you lips and he quickly leaned down to press a kiss to them. “Wanna say I’ll go easy on you, sweetheart, but you know I couldn’t do that.”

One quick peck, another, and another— one, two, three, before he slipped his tongue inside, swiping it along your molars and flicking it against your own appendage, heavy with spit, and laced with his throaty moans, going nicely with your pretty whines.

Eddie couldn’t deny the way your noises affected him, hardening him further if that was even possible and leaving his thrusts to get harder— however the two of you had to be somewhat quiet, and though the thought of getting walked in on at any moment was quite electrifying, you didn’t really want any of your family getting an eyeful of the two of you fucking like little bunnies in season.

He’d have to find a way to shut you up one way or another.

So, he pressed his palm heavily over your mouth, muffling your cries to a dull vibration against the lines of his hand— his new ring glistening in the light, showing the both of you how real it was that the two of you were married. In sickness and in health.

“Should’ve put my cock down your throat,” he sighed, trying to suppress his own crude noises with a bite to his bottom lip. “Would’a made you all quiet then, wouldn’t it, dirty girl.”

You were whining still, fluttering your lids when your moans were stifled, finding purchase in grabbing at his chest and clawing at his pecs, easing a groan in return, which you would’ve shushed if it wasn’t for your occupied mouth.

His other hand smoothed over your thigh, kneading at the thickness before travelling upwards, grabbing a handful of tit and squeezing it, thumb and forefinger pinching at your nipple and watching it grow impossibly harder at the cruel action.

Your eyes started to roll back, your nails began to claw deeper.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he cooed, “jus’ wanna let everyone know how good you’re feeling, don’t you?”

You nodded as best you could in the hazy state you were in, thick with fog and eyes lined with tears, now streaming down your cheeks, and you were certain your pretty makeup had turned into a muddy mess— mascara streaks and all that.

“Yeah, that’s right, but you gotta be quiet, baby— gotta be good and make me proud.”

You were close, and he could feel it— hugely familiar with the way your orgasm grew, the way you clenched much harder than normal, pussy pulsing and clit thumping along with your heart, creaming his cock completely and you hadn’t even slipped over the edge yet.

He was close too, stuttering breaths and shortened thrusts, a little sloppy, though still just as delicious, you could feel him twitch inside you, hot and heavy, so ready to burst.

“You ready to cum, baby? Can feel you clenchin’ real hard.” His fringe stuck to his forehead, slick with sweat and you brought a hand up to push it out of the way, a few wisps getting caught in his vision. “Such a dirty girl— does bathroom sex really do it for you?”

Bastard.

“Shit— gonna cum too—” he squeezed his eyes closed, bracing his free hand on the counter and clutching at the edge with tightened fingers. “you ready for my cum, honey? Ready to have my babies? We’ve waited this long, sweet girl, might as well start now.”

You whined and cried out, wanting so badly to scream, though his palm kept that from you.

“Yeah, I know you want it.” He cooed, “make me a real daddy.”

It was in unison when you came— thick ropes of cum painting your inner walls, filling you up and spreading warmth throughout, while you pulsed and spasmed, creaming his cock and dripping all over the bathroom tiles, drool slipping from your mouth and along his hand, escaping the confines and sliding down your neck and pooling at your heaving chest.

So messy.

You felt sated— both of you did, glowing and completely spent, cuddling up to each other as close as you could even in the awkward position.

Until there was a knock.

“Excuse me, is there anyone in there?”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson hc #eddie munson fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things fanfic #stranger things blurb

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kitashousewife · 8 months

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“can you cancel my meeting for thursday?”

“sure, just let me-“ your eyes narrow at the laptop you had been typing on minutes earlier. “no, i can’t cancel that.”

sakusa pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

“what’s the point of having an assistant if you can’t manage my schedule?”

his dig is meaningless, and you know it. it’s been a few months as his assistant and despite your best efforts, he’s been a tough egg to crack. lately though, he’s been a bit better about letting his personality shine through.

which is both a blessing and a curse.

“sakusa-“

“kiyoomi,”

“okay kiyoomi,” you roll your eyes. “i can’t cancel that and you know it. it’s way too close and besides, it will be good for you!”

about a month or so, sakusa and a couple other members of MSBY got asked to attend a sponsorship dinner. this dinner was much larger than the others, hosting almost five hundred of japans best athletes. it was going to be huge. since the day it got added to his schedule, sakusa has been trying to get out of it.

“im starting to not feel good,” sakusa comments, fidgeting with his water bottle in front of his kitchen counter that you’ve set up at.

“really? not feeling good enough to go out with bokuto-san tonight then, right?”

he huffs. “no, it’s not that bad.”

“great! then you can come on thursday.”

sakusa gives you an irritated glare, then groans. he gets even more annoyed when you don’t respond to that, either.

he shuffles over to the couch, flopping down to mess around on his phone. a few minutes pass by before he decides to speak up again.

“what if i just don’t show up?”

“then you can say goodbye to any sponsorships in the future, is that what you want?”

you turn around on the bar stool and face him. he won’t meet your eye, pouting from the couch. on one hand you understand. crowds aren’t really his thing, neither is pointless socialization and rubbing elbows in behalf of faux-support and the hope of donations. but, this would be really great for him and the others invited. a chance to see other sponsors, get their face out there while getting a free meal out of it.

“how about we make a compromise?”

“unless it involves me not going, im not interested.”

you stand up, walking over to his place on the couch. he moves his long legs to let you sit down.

“you need a new suit for this, that the team is paying for,” you add before he has a second to open his mouth. “how about tomorrow, we pick up a new one, get some new shoes, stop by the restaurant you like, and i’ll cancel the rest of your meetings for the week.”

this piques his interest. it’s only monday and each day has at least two, maybe three stupid meetings at some point. this is of course in addition to the two personal training sessions, practices, scrimmage, and psychical therapy appointments scattered around. a week off would be a dream come true.

sakusa hums. “fine.”

you smile, getting up to return back to your seat and start working on making calls to cancel the various extra things going on.

“see, now we both get what we want. i’ll move everything around now.”

“what would i ever do without you,” sakusa sighs, voice sarcastic and dry. you laugh, not thinking twice about it, but he means every word.

now all he needs to worry about is getting his suit, and asking you to be his plus one.

#sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa fluff #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader

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seresinhangmanjake · 2 months

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Soap's Sister!reader

Summary: Because Johnny found him sleeping with his sister, Simon had to live the last three months without you, but he's about to get his girl back.

warnings/notes: a little smut 18+, cursing, drinking. That's probably it. Oh, typos, im sure, as well.

words: 1830

Part 1

He drinks at the same bar. The one his team practically lived in when they were all together for an evening, but that doesn’t happen anymore, not with the entire group. Johnny stays home if he knows Simon will be attending the night out, and Simon, if informed Johnny wants to be with the team, elects to remove himself from the situation for everyone’s comfort. He figures it’s the least he can do. He’d slept with his best mate’s sister, he’d fallen in love with his best mate’s sister, and so he has taken on the consequences, no matter how infuriating and unreasonable and unfair.

“You want another, Honey?” the bartender asks. She grins. Her eyes shine with desire, as they have all night, and it might be a pleasant sight if Simon had never met you. He might’ve taken her home, fucked her like a toy until he was spent and she was happily ruined by his cock before he kicked her out. But she isn’t you. No woman is you.

“Keep ‘em comin’,” Simon replies, downing the amber liquid in his glass.

Suddenly, the stool beside him slides across the hardwood floor, now occupied by a newcomer he wouldn’t hesitate to shove to their ass if he could do so without causing a scene. What kind of rude bastard risks sitting next to someone when ten other seats are open?

“Actually lass, do me a favor and cut ‘im off. I need ‘im in his right mind.”

Simon almost chokes at Johnny's voice but he doesn’t turn his head as he slowly sets the glass back down on the counter, his fingers tightening around it. Anger, confusion, pain, anxiety. It all crashes over him in a hefty wave, because rolled into this one man is both the friend Simon has missed for months and the asshole who has forced him to be apart from the love of his life. And it’s almost too much to handle at once.

“I’ll take his drink,” Johnny tells the bartender, who has lost all hope now that the man she’s been attempting to charm is no longer lonely enough to be convinced to take her home. When she places the glass in front of him, he takes a sip. “You look like shit, Ghost.”

“What do you want?”

“We got a problem,” Johnny says, getting right to it. “A bit of a disaster, really, and I gave it my best shot, but I can’t fix it.” Simon blinks. His brows pinch. Johnny drains the remainder of the alcohol and wipes his mouth with the back of his forearm. “She’s miserable. And considerin’ the timeline, I’d wager it’s because she’s without you.”

Simon’s heart—though had fallen from his chest months ago—sinks lower into his gut.

“Look, I didn' believe it was that deep,” Johnny continues. “Figured you were jus’ messin’ around. Being stupid and disrespectful with my baby sister. But I cannot have her miserable, Ghost. It won’t do.” He looks at Simon and releases a long sigh. “She loves you. I don’ like it but she does, and you need to make it better.”

“What exactly are you askin’ of me?”

Johnny’s eyes land back on the empty glass. He plants his elbows on the counter and rubs his fingers across his forehead, kneading the wrinkles. “Just…go to her, alright?”

That snaps Simon out of his grumbly attitude. “You serious?”

“Unfortunately,” Johnny says.

Simon practically leaps out of his seat, nearly knocking the stool to the floor as he shrugs on his jacket. He’s almost at the door, but then he stops. Taking a breath, he turns back to his old friend. “Will you be able to handle this?” Simon asks. “Me and her? Because you can't ask me to let her go, Johnny. Not twice.”

Johnny takes a second, then he gives a brief nod. “I’ll adjust. Somehow. With time; lots of time.”

It isn't much reassurance, but it's enough for Simon to be on his way. He rushes out the door, jumps into his truck, and races down the road. He forgets the seatbelt. Ignores the speed limit signs. You don’t live far, and you’re worth the risk if it means getting to you faster.

He knows the elevator in your building is much too slow because he’s been in it a hundred times. He has made out with you in it; fucked you in it, slamming the emergency button so no one could interrupt on the nights you couldn’t wait to get to your bedroom. So he takes the stairs. Two at a time, up eight flights, and down the hall. With a heaving chest, he bangs on your door.

“Love, open up!” He knocks harder. Loud enough to make your neighbor pop her head into the hall to understand the ruckus.

“Oh, wonderful. You've returned,” the old woman huffs. “And just when I was starting to believe I’d never again have to endure listening to that moaning and groaning at all hours.”

“We talked ‘bout this back in June, Mrs. Brimsby. Get yourself some earplugs,” Simon retorts before calling for you again. “Baby, please, it‘s me!”

“I’ll report the two of you for the noise.”

“You probably should. You’re in for a long night.” He hears a scoff but doesn’t bother to glance in the direction it comes from.

“Still so disrespectful,” she spits before slamming the door to her apartment.

Simon has held a low level of hatred for the old bat since the morning after the first time you’d slept together. It was an early Sunday full of soft touches and kisses and tea to nurse the mild hangovers you’d both had because of a couple of drinks the night before—the drinks that allowed the two of you to finally surrender to the sexual tension. After kissing you goodbye, he’d stepped out of your apartment with a smile he hadn't donned in quite some time, only to have it wiped away from the unexpected grandma in a collared nightgown tapping her foot as she stroked the fur of the cat in her arms.

“You kept us up all night,” she had scolded. “We need our sleep.” The cat then hissed for emphasis.

Now, Simon has never been so happy to have that woman blathering in his ear. She reminds him of home, because home is with you and this is where you are. Getting yelled at shoots him into the memories of the time you spent together all those months ago. The stupidly high levels of bliss that, based on the trajectory of his life at the time, he’d assumed was more of a myth than anything. But you had made it real. You had soothed the pain. You were the patch on his wounds; the brightest spot in his life which dimmed the trauma and horrors.

He’s so lost in those thoughts that he doesn’t immediately notice when his banging fist plummets through the air.

“Si?”

At your voice, Simon’s mind instantly clears. His eyes meet yours.

“Fucking finally,” he mutters, not letting a beat go by before he’s bending at the knees, wrapping his arms around your waist, and lifting you up. Instinctually, your arms snake around his neck, your legs circle his hips, and he feels his cock begin to swell from the reminder of how natural that action is for you. How right it is that you fit together like lock and key.

Many questions are brewing in your eyes, but you don’t ask them. You kiss him instead, hard and thoroughly as he carries you into your apartment and kicks the door closed behind him. When he sits you atop your kitchen counter and settles himself between your spread legs, his hands go everywhere; under your sleep shirt, up the curves of your body to squeeze your breasts then back down to your hips. His palms slide around to your ass and jerk you closer so the center of those thin little shorts is pressed against the mound protruding from his jeans.

Buttons scatter across the tile from his impatience, unwilling to delicately undo each tiny closure of your shirt. Your fingers trickle lower on his body to the belt buckle you quickly undo and the zipper you harshly yank down. He’s about to tell you to lift your hips, but you do so without his command, shimmying out of your shorts, and Simon takes the chance to do the same, pushing his pants just below his ass. He springs free, the heavy column of flesh landing at your navel.

Leaning back, you guide his cock through the slickness of puffy lips into your tight, clenching walls. It sucks the air from his lungs. His head falls to your shoulder as you both try to breathe at a steady pace. His hands brace on the counter on either side of your body, nails digging into the granite. Home.

“Simon…baby, you have to move,” you pant. “I c-can’t take it.”

“I’ve got you,” he whispers in your ear before lifting his head and placing a quick peck on your mouth. Shifting his hips, he pulls out and then slowly eases himself back inside of you. His groan drowns out the sweet song of your moan. “I’ve got you, love.”

—

“Your neighbor still hates us, jus’ so you know,” Simon says as he slides under the sheets. Were he not so exhausted, he’d chuckle at the idea of being beside you in your bed and not immediately trying to fuck you, but after the kitchen counter, then the couch, then the living room floor, you’re both worn out and in need of a good night's sleep. “Probably more now than she did before.”

Normally, you would have found his words amusing, but you remain silent on your back, staring straight up at the ceiling. Simon raises a brow and flips onto his side. Then he sees the tear slip from the corner of your eye down to your ear.

“What're you thinkin' about, love?” he asks as he places his hand on your cheek and turns your face toward his.

“I'm scared,” you tell him. “I've missed you so much, but the second you leave, everything will go back to how it was without you. That broke me the first time, Si. How do I go through it all over again?”

His eyes pinch tight and he sighs in shame. He should have told you. It should have been the first thing out of his mouth, but then he saw you and he needed you and that was all that mattered in the moment. “Baby,” he begins, brushing the hair back from your face. “I'm not leaving you, and we are not goin’ back to that, ok?”

“But Johnny—”

“We don't need to worry about Johnny.”

Your eyes widen. “What? Why not?”

“Because, love,” Simon says, his hand finding the middle of your back and snuggling you into his chest, “Johnny sent me.”

@universitypenguin @ghostslittlegf

#simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley fic #cod ghost #cod fic #mw2

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4everhyucks · 1 year

Text

— 01:29AM

cw. age gap, creampie.

jisung had been crushing on your since you both were kids. well, more like him being the kid, and you being a teenager. you’re 5 years older than him. if you think about it, it is kind of weird for a 12 year old to have a crush on a 17 year old.

the first time jisung laid his eyes on you, you were over at his house, on the couch of the living room, giggling with his older sister.

“is that your brother?” he heard you ask his sister. he found your voice so soft and sweet, the total opposite of his sister’s.

“yeah! sung come here and say hi,” she waved for jisung to walk over so you could take a better look at him.

it was love at first sight for jisung. you looked so different from the girls in his class. the way your hair falls when you brush them out of your face. the perfect smile you flashed at him when you introduced yourself, the soft pat on his head when you called him cute.

jisung thought his crush on you would be over after awhile, but it didn’t. he found himself wanting to be stuck around you 24/7 when you were over. when his sister held sleepovers, he always slept beside you, all cuddly on the king size bed with you slotted in between the two sibling. not that you minded, in your eyes, he’s just your best friend’s younger brother.

“sung get out! it’s supposed to be a girls night.”

you laughed, telling her it’s alright to have her younger brother in the room (again). jisung’s heart bloomed when you pulled him into your embrace, having him sat on top of your lap.

“you’ve gotta stop babying him all the time,” she rolled her eyes, glaring at jisung, “this is the last. time. you hear me?!”

when jisung reached the age of 16, he realised that it was no longer a simple crush. during his sister’s 21st birthday, their parents were out, which lead up to her throwing a house party. she allowed jisung to invite a couple of his friends over so he wouldn’t feel alone.

on that very day, jisung and his friends stayed in his room all night. he only saw you once, when you peeked into through the door of his room to say hi.

“fuck! i lost again,” jisung’s friend—jeno, cursed as he threw the controller on the ground lightly, “the game is fucking rigged.”

“i won jisung earlier so i’ll just say that you suck at the game,” haechan, another one of jisung’s friend chuckled, taking a gulp out of the giant coke bottle on the floor.

“whatever, i’m gonna go grab some snacks from the kitchen. y’all want anything?” jisung got up, dusting his pants.

“anything’s fine.”

“ice cream.”

as jisung turned around the end of the stairs, he was faced with your back leaning against the kitchen counter, with a guy chatting you up. jisung might be 16 but he’s not stupid. he saw the way the older guy eyed your body. jisung doesn’t know if he was being possessive over you or if he was just jealous, could be both. but he couldn’t do anything about it. he quickly rummaged through the fridge for ice cream. the sound of that might’ve been louder than the songs being played on the speaker, because you noticed his presence.

“ji!” you called out. he pretends not to hear you, with a tub of ice cream in his hand, he went back upstairs after shutting the door of the fridge with his foot.

“who’s he?” the guy in front of you questioned as he watched the kid disappear up the steps.

“birthday girl’s younger brother,” you answered.

jisung’s 18 when his body went through his second growth spurt. many girls fawn over him. he had grown much taller than before, his features are more defined now, and his muscles are super obvious too. not that you realised, you’re practically with him the entire time his body went through changes.

for some reason his sex hormones are shooting out the roof after turning 18. jisung had spent plenty of nights jerking off to dirty thoughts of you, to the point where he doesn’t know if he’s capable of holding himself back anymore. he’s not even slightly interested in the girls that practically throws themselves at him.

through multiple years of having a one sided crush on his older sister’s friend, he no longer knows what to do about it.

currently jisung is in his room, playing computer games with his friends.

“left! on the left!” jisung flinches when he hears haechan’s loud screams through his headset.

“fucking hell.” jeno utters, spamming the keys.

all three of them groan when the screen announces their loss. before jisung could say something about their last play, his door swings open as you walk into his room, flopping down on his bed. jisung takes his headset off, leaving it on the table.

“i’m bored ji,” you lay down on your side to face him when he turns his gaming chair to face you, “your sister went grocery shopping with her boyfriend.”

he hums, “why didn’t you tag along?” he doesn’t even care about his sister or her boyfriend, whatever it is, not when you’re on his bed with the tightest tank top and the shortest shorts he’s seen in his entire life. you’re not even wearing a bra. thats how comfortable you are with him. he bets you don’t even see him as a man.

“don’t wanna be a thirdwheel,” you sigh, but it came out sounding like a soft moan. jisung’s body tenses up seeing you flip over on his bed, your ass on display for him to gawk at. no way in hell you’re this naive he thought to himself.

he can feel himself getting harder underneath his sweats. “y-y/n, i just remembered that i have something important to work on, and i kind of need my privacy.. to focus.” jisung didn’t sound convincing at all, you quickly got up and sat on his lap, which causes jisung to bite on his bottom lip. it has become a normal thing for you to sit on jisung’s lap. the first time consisted of you telling him it was normal since he always sat on your lap when he was a child. you didn’t take it weirdly when you were sat comfortably on his lap.

“what’s so important?” you turn the chair to face his pc.

jisung grunts when you shift your ass closer to his crotch. he didn’t mean to stare down at your ass but, as a man, he couldn’t control himself. his heart starts to beat faster and he can feel his boner sticking uncomfortably on his sweats.

“ji is your phone in your pocket or something?” you ask, hands moving behind to grab his phone but you pull back when you realise that it’s something else.

“shit- sorry,” you quickly got up from his lap, excusing yourself, wondering why he had a hard on, “i think your sister might be back soon so i’ll wait for her downstairs.” you try to not sound too nervous, because why in the world would you be nervous and flustered?

your hands are already turning the doorknob, but before you could step out of him room, jisung slams the door shut. his tall figure hovering behind you, your back facing him.

“noona, i- i need you.” he admits as he grinds his cock against your ass, hands gripping your hips so tightly.

you gasp at the feeling of him rubbing his hard length on your core through your underwear. “fuck- ji.. we- we can’t do this, it’s w-wrong.”

“just once.. wanna feel you, please.”

you feel jisung’s hot breath hitting your neck, moments later he’s sucking and licking on your shoulders, nape, up to your ear.

you know you shouldn’t. you know. but you can’t help it. you know you’ll never be able to see your best friend without feeling guilty anymore, for wanting to fuck her younger brother. the little boy that you took care of all these years, grew up to be so.. alluring.

you whimper when jisung pushes your panties to the side, “wait ji- you’re gonna regret—”

he cuts you off, “no. wanted you for so long, wanted to fuck you since forever, wanted you all to myself, but of course you’d never see me that way, not back then, not now, and probably not ever. i’ll always be a little brother in your eyes. isn’t that right? i’m going to fuck you now, i’m going to make sure you’ll never forget it.. forget this. shit— never forget me, gonna ruin you for all the other guys out there, you’re mine. you’re mine noona, you hear me?”

his words are so intoxicating, so dirty, you wonder where he learnt how to talk like that. your breath gets slammed out of your lungs when he plunges into you, hard.

“fuck! ji!” you slap your palm over your mouth, trying your best to contain your noises. afraid of your best friend coming back early, and hearing your back being blown out by her younger brother.

“let me hear you noona.. let me hear how good im making you feel.”

to be honest, it’s impossible to not make a sound, not with the way he’s fucking into you. so good, so fucking good.

“pussy made for me, you’re made for me.. aren’t you?”

you nod, “y-yes.. yours, only yours ji.”

“shit- taking me in so well, fucking love you.”

jisung feels the way your walls flutter around him, “close?”

you nod again.

“cum for me.”

and you did.

so did jisung, painting your walls white.

you shiver, feeling full and warm.

—

“we’re home!!” your best friend announces when she walks through the front door with her boyfriend behind her, “y’all having that bonding time or something?” she says, noticing you and jisung by the counter.

��yeah.” you smile at her, thighs twitching as you sense jisung’s cum leaking out of your hole.

thankful that he allowed you to put on your underwear at the very least.

—

bonus

“holy shit. he really fucked her.” haechan chuckles in shock.

“didn’t know he had it in him,” jeno says, jaw dropping.

“i think i’m hard.”

“you think?” jeno laughs light heartedly, switching his tab to incognito mode.

#vv writes #jisung smut #park jisung smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct hard hours #nct dream hard hours #jisung hard hours #park jisung hard hours

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homestylehughes · 12 days

Text

kiss me

pairing(s): luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: luke and his pretty girl spend a summer day in central park

warnings: none. pure fluff and cuteness.

wc: 647

an: hiiii loves!! i kept having this thought about luke last night and i decided to write it LOL. i'm a sucker for cute and soft luke. it's a short little baby fic but i love it. i hope you all enjoy it!! like and reblog if you do!! as always much love <3.

happy reading <3

The warm summer breeze moves past Luke and I as we walk through Central Park, enjoying a soft summer day.

“And one vanilla cone for a pretty lady” Luke dramatically says from beside me, handing me the sweet treat on the cone.

“Thank you kind sir” I giggle back, before wrapping my tongue around the sweet treat, internally moaning at the taste.

“Good?” Luke asks, chuckling at me, as he watches me eat the desert.

“Mhm!” I mumble back, mouth full of ice cream. Luke replies with a smile, grabbing his warm hand in mine as we begin to walk further into the park.

The bright sun litters over the vibrant green trees that litter all around the park, the slight breeze causing them to sway as if they're dancing. Flowers of all types add color and more life to the park, the scene around us is beautiful, like something out of a painting.

I'm not really sure how we ended up here today. Luke wanted to take an impromptu trip to New York, and now we’re here, and I'm not complaining.

Luke looks so amazing in the sun. The way it highlights his chestnut brown curls. Seeing how his mussels contract under the white shirt he chose to wear together is enough to make my mouth water. He's a sight I'll never get used to seeing.

“Are you okay over there pretty girl?”

Luke asks beside me, breaking me out of my daydream.

“Yeah I'm fine” I say beaming up to him, flashing him a sweet smile. “Just thinking about and how lucky I am” I follow.

“Oh, who knew my pretty girl was such a sap for me”

“Hey now, don't be mean. I was trying to be cute and admit my love for you and you just bullied me." I say turning on my heel to throw away my cone wrapper.

“I was jokinggggg, come here '' Luke says, grabbing my wrist, pulling me back towards him. “You better be,” I say with a small pout on my lips.

Luke chuckles at my face, “you're so cute” he says before leading me down the trail again. We walk in silence for a few moments, taking in the view around us.

“It's so pretty out here today” i say looking at luke, “thank you for taking me here today”, “you're welcome pretty girl” he says looking at me

“I feel like I haven't, we haven't seen each other a lot recently, and I wanted to take my pretty girl to a pretty place.”

Luke's words have my face heating up instantly, he never fails to make me feel loved and special. “Now who's the sap?” I say playfully, nudging my elbow into his side as we continue walking.

“Wowwwww. Okay i see how it is' ' he says with a dramatic sigh.

“You know I'm kidding” I say, pulling his arms, so he's now standing in front of me.

“I love you” I softly say looking into his eyes.

“I love you more” he counter,

“impossible.'' I say looking back at him with narrowed eyes.

“Shut up” Luke laughs at me.

“No, you shut up” I sat tilting my head to the side, waiting for his next move.

“Oh really?” he says, taking a step and half closer to me.

“Mhm, what are you going to do about it?” he says, tilting his head down closer to my face.

“Kiss me” I say, not even a beat later, I feel his warm hands cupping my cheeks pulling me into a sweet kiss. My arms circled around his neck, pulling him closer to my body.

Luke pulls away from my lips softly, “I'll never stop talking if you always shut me up with a kiss.” he says in a teasing tone.

“Oh shut up” I mumble back,

“oh I will” is all Luke says before pullin me back for another kiss.

#nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic #new jersey devils #luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes fic #luke hughes fluff #lh43

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synthetickitsune · 5 months

Text

Joshua (Seventeen) | Nicknames fluff | 0.9k words | gn!reader A/N: @hanniedream we're even now, stop indulging my brainrot or we'll get stuck here >:(

You feel his eyes on you while you’re saying goodbye to his friends. It’s nothing new, Joshua generally likes to keep his eyes on you to make sure you’re alright, especially as the night draws to an end. But when you meet his gaze this time, something is wrong. It’s just a flash of something you can’t decipher in his eyes before it’s gone and he smiles warmly at you, inviting you into his open arms. When you close the distance between you, he pulls you close and kisses the top of your head before waving the guys goodbye.

Once the doors are closed, he holds you just for a second longer so you can’t escape, chuckling at your weak attempts to struggle out of his arms. You don’t move far, just enough to look at him.

“Is everything alright?” you ask him. He tilts his head a little.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” he seems confused, his thumbs stroking your waist to provide comfort.

“I don’t know, you looked a little upset for a second there,” you explain and he seems to immediately catch up, shaking his head with another smile.

“I think I’m just tired and wanted them gone already.”

You don’t think that’s all there is to it, but you let it go. You don’t have any proof, and besides - you’re a bit tired too. It’s easy to let the worry melt away when Joshua holds you in bed, your back against his chest and his lips meeting the skin of your neck between every word he speaks.

Truth be told, you forget about the incident the next day and don’t think about it anymore. Largely because Joshua now makes an effort not to make you worry. It’s childish anyway, and so he pays attention to his expression any time he sees you interact with your or his friends. It’s nothing, and you’re cute. No need to make you worry.

You only remember now that you see the same look on Joshua’s face that he had that evening after you get off the phone with your best friend. The slight frown on his face, his lips turned downwards. You wouldn’t say he looks hurt, but it’s not far from it. His eyes immediately grow wide like he’s a deer caught in the headlights when he realizes you saw and he opens his mouth to speak, but no words leave him.

“Shua, what happened?” you whisper. You put your phone down on the counter, but before you can go to him, he’s already standing in front of you. Wordlessly he helps you jump onto the counter before stepping between your legs and caging you in. You blink at him, suddenly flustered by his closeness and the position as he rests his forehead against yours. “Shua?”

“You never use any nicknames for me,” he states with a slight sigh. Better to rip the bandaid off, he figures. “You give everyone else one, though. Why not me? You don’t even call me Joshie anymore.”

You stare at him, stare at the soft look in his eyes, the slight pout to his lips. He doesn’t sound upset but it’s obvious it’s bothering him, and you wonder for how long did he let it steep inside him.

“Is that it?” you ask, not laughing, not judging, just making sure.

“Yeah,” he whines a little, “It’s stupid but it’s been on my mind for a while. Why don’t you call me anything but my name?”

“I heard you mention you don’t care about nicknames much, so I thought you’d prefer if I called you by your name,” you try to remember what was the occasion, but your memory fails you.

“Sounds like something I’d say,” Joshua hums in acknowledgement, soothing your worries by rubbing his hand across your thighs, “But I think I’d like it if you called me something sweet. Something simple.”

“My love?” you try immediately, laughing at the spark in his eyes when they meet yours. “Just love?”

He thinks it over before prompting you to say both again. His smile grows while he listens with his eyes closed, blindly leaning closer to you until his lips are on yours.

“I like when you call me yours,” he smiles into the kiss. He doesn’t pull too far away after you part.

“Just mine then,” you tease, cracking up at the sight of his offended face. His lips part and he scoffs.

“You can lose your partner privileges as fast as you get them.”

“I’m not the one who was whining about not being called anything but my name, Joshua,” you point out. However, seeing the playfulness drop from his face, you reach your arms out and hug him. “You’re cute, my love.”

He hums, his hands sliding down your thighs and to your back, returning the hug with more strength than you were prepared for. You squeak, but he doesn’t let go, not until he leaves a lingering kiss on your cheek. “I like that one.”

“I’ll experiment around with them, this one just felt right for the first one,” you promise, squeezing his shoulders, “Feel better now?”

“No longer feels like my own partner is excluding me, yeah,” he sighs dramatically, putting a hand over his heart. You smack his shoulder lightly and roll your eyes. You stop yourself from asking if he’s going to hold this against you for long - even though it was his fault for not bringing it up sooner. “I love you, my love.”

“I love you too,” you smile. It really does sound nice.

#joshua scenarios #joshua x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #svthub #svt x reader #svt scenarios #svt reactions #svt fluff #joshua fluff #drabble

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keegansshark · 2 months

Note

birthday girl cherry here with a wee request about my favorite scot <33 i NEED a little something about birthday sex with soap. preferably nasty, feral fucking 🫣 totally up to you, but i would love it if the piece included face licking, squirting, and elements of a breeding kink :3

love you and your writing!! <333

cw: 18+, minors dni, fem!reader, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, squirting, dirty talk, spit, face licking, breeding kink, creampie, porn with plot, johnny is very horny (this is a warning in itself)

summary: birthday sex and johnny's a freak

word count: 2.8k

a/n: happy birthday sweet girl <3 love you so much

“I really don’t kno’ why ye dressed up so nicely anyways.”

“Huh?” You nearly choke on the bite of food in your mouth, staring at Johnny incredulously from across the table. “Of course I’d dress up, it’s my birthday dinner.”

“Ah know it is. You look like an angel. And now I’ll have tae tear that pretty little dress off of ye so I can ruin ye.” Johnny sighs, completely nonchalant as your mouth drops open at the bluntness of his words.

“Johnny. We’re in public.” you hiss, feeling your face heat up as he flashes that classic MacTavish grin at you. You’re very much in public at a very expensive restaurant that he insisted on taking you to, but that doesn’t deter him from running his mouth. In fact, he might even see it as encouraging.

“And?” he counters, beaming brighter when your glare turns more into a warning. “Dinnae act like it’s a mystery on what we’re gonna do tonight.”

“You’re awful, Johnny.” you mutter, downing the last of your water as you lean back in your chair. “Can’t spend one evening without you thinking with the wrong head.”

He hums contently, pleased at the way he riled you up. That was his plan all along. It’s working. “Never did tell me what ye wanted for yer birthday.” He’s quick to switch the subject, knowing it’ll get you even more flustered.

“What I want is for you to have some manners.” The waiter swings by the table to drop off the bill and you thank whoever is watching out for you that Johnny knows enough to keep his mouth closed for just a few moments.

“You wound me, sweetheart.” He mockingly clutches his chest, chuckling when you kick him under the table. “Not my fault that looking at ye makes me think such dirty thoughts all the time.”

He tilts his head, clearly weighing the consequences of whatever he’s going to say next.

“It’s also not my fault you look so gorgeous I cannae help but imagine all the ways I’m gonna fuck ye.”

You swallow roughly as he tosses a few bills onto the table, quickly standing up to wrap his arm around your shoulders and direct you out of the restaurant.

He leans in while you make the walk to his car, nipping at the shell of your ear and making you gasp. “And if you keep looking like that, I’ll simply have to take ye right in the backseat, bonnie.”

You don’t even make it past the living room. You’re lucky you make it past the front door.

Johnny unceremoniously shoves you onto the couch the second both of you step inside your house, hiking your dress over your stomach and gripping the delicate lace of your panties to fully tear it off of you.

“Och, dinnae act like ye aren’t aware I’ve already bought a couple new pairs for ye.” he scoffs when he’s met with your unimpressed glare. “Besides, I think ye look better this way. Don’t need anything covering up what’s mine.”

Any argument you have against that dies the second he grabs onto your thighs, the rough calluses of his fingers digging into your soft skin as he lifts one leg over his shoulder to bury his head right into your pussy.

“Yer lucky it’s yer birthday,” he huffs, nose bumping against your clit as he practically drools in between your thighs, his saliva mixing with the slickness you can feel is already coating your cunt. “The way you looked back there, if only ye could’ve seen how hard I was. Wanted tae, fuck, wanted tae pull you right into that restroom, bend you over the sink and fuck ye stupid. Only thing stopping me was wanting to be polite on yer special day.”

“You’re an absolute freak, y’know that Johnny?” you laugh breathlessly before it dissolves into a moan, your hand threading through his mohawk as he presses his lips against your clit and latches on, a few simple sucks making your hips jerk involuntarily.

“I can be worse. So much worse.” He has been worse. Will definitely continue to be worse too, but he’s feeling generous today. It’s evident through the way he noisily laps at your cunt, acting like a man starved as he uses his thumbs to spread your folds and flatten his tongue against them.

“Good thing we didnae have cake yet,” he groans against your pussy, his tongue quickly collecting all the slick of your arousal before he lowers it to press inside your entrance, curling it a few times before lifting his head again. “Got the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted in yer pussy right here.”

He stares up at you with those delicate baby blue eyes of his, letting out a moan of his own as your fingers in his hair form a fist and you tug him back up to your clit. “If only ye could see yourself right now. So beautiful when yer getting yer pussy ate.”

You whimper, grinding against his face as he alternates between suckling and nipping at your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you as you feel yourself rapidly approaching the first orgasm of the night.

“You’re close, aye? Can feel you clenching on my fingers, so fuckin’ greedy.” He leans directly over your clit, opening his mouth as a fat load of spit covers over the swollen bud and his thumb rubs against it to make a sticky mess out of your pussy. “It’s yer goddamn right to be greedy, especially today. I’m gonna need ye tae cum for me, sweet girl, need to kno’ I’m making ye feel good.”

The filth coming out of his mouth coupled with the way his fingers are thrusting inside of you perfectly are what sends you over the edge, crying out sharply as your fluids drench his face, leaving your thighs trembling against his head as he eagerly uses his tongue to clean up all of your cum left on your pussy.

“Gonna make ye do that again. Makes me lose my fuckin’ mind when you squirt on me like that.” he sighs, leaning back as he wipes the slick glistening on his chin and licks his fingers clean. You immediately prop yourself up to reach for his belt, letting out a low whine when he gently moves your hands away.

“Quit yer fretting, you’ll get my cock. Just not here. Need tae fuck ye proper, cannae do it on a couch. C’mon, love.” Johnny swiftly hooks his arm around your waist to toss you over his shoulder, rolling his eyes and landing a soft smack to your ass when you squirm in his grasp. “Dinnae give me that, I’ll manhandle you any day of the year. Nothing you can do about it.”

You bite back the ‘yes sir’ on the tip of your tongue, not wanting to boost his ego even more as he carries you to your room. “I’m more than capable of walking up some stairs, Johnny.”

“Won’t be doing any walking once I’m done with ye.” he retorts, kicking open the bedroom door and dropping you onto the bed. “Won’t be doing much of anything if I can help it. If I haven’t fucked ye till yer legs are shaking and yer heads empty then I didnae do my job correctly.”

“Is that a promise?” you ask softly as Johnny moves to unzip your dress, your hands working in tandem to unbutton his shirt, the collar of which is now completely soaked with your juices.

“It’s a given,” is his short response as he tugs your dress off of you, tossing it to the floor as you finally lose your patience and rip the rest of his buttons open. You let him shrug his shirt off to join your dress on the floor before staring down at the bulge evident in his dress pants.

“Christ, baby,” you mumble, fingers moving swiftly to undo his belt and shove his pants down to his thighs. There’s already a wet patch against his boxers, and you appreciate it as long as you can before you’re pushing them down as well to watch his erection spring up against his stomach.

His dick is mouthwatering, if you’re being completely honest with yourself. A fat pearl of pre-cum already leaking from his tip, dripping against his abdomen. It must be throbbing, aching at being neglected for so long.

“I did all that?” you breathe out, wrapping your fingers around the length of his cock to pump up and down slowly. “Just from eating me out?”

“Fuckin’ hell, you do this just from seeing you.” he inhales briskly, staring down at you jerking him off before he softly directs your hand away. “Cannae lie, eating that sweet pussy of yours definitely helped me too.”

He fully tugs down his pants and boxers, kicking them off towards the pile of clothes as he crawls up towards you.

His mouth is on yours immediately, his middle and ring fingers finding their way back to your pussy and quickly sinking into you. Johnny uses his other hand to guide your head back onto your pillow, allowing his body weight to press you into the mattress as you moan against his mouth. He kisses you sloppily as his lips slot between yours to push his tongue into your mouth and swirl it over yours.

“So pretty, so fuckin’ pretty, baby. My pretty girl.” he croons, his lips trailing down to your neck, practically panting as his tongue laps at your pulse point. “Ye drive me crazy. Every time I fuck ye I’m thinking about when I get to make you cum again. Yer always on my mind, I swear tae you.”

His words being both simultaneously dirty and praising make your head spin, and at first it barely registers that his mouth is moving from your neck. “Johnny, fuck…” you groan, nose scrunching as he drags his tongue across your cheek and leaves a trail of spit in it’s path. “You’re no better than a dog.”

“Can bark if ye want.” he grunts in response, not giving you any warning before spitting against your lips and smearing it around with the tip of his tongue. “Sorry, baby, need my mouth on you. Look so fuckin’ good under me.”

You’d let him do anything to you if he keeps fucking you like this, even if it’s just his fingers for now, and you have to admit that his tongue feels as good against your face as it does against your pussy. His hand that isn’t currently filling out your cunt moves to your shoulder, pinning you down as he licks all over your face, making your skin coated with his saliva.

Johnny pumps his fingers inside you a few more times, the squelching audible before he slowly pulls them out of you. You whimper at the sudden emptiness before throwing your head back against the pillow at the feeling of his cock grinding against your folds, the sensation making your pussy flutter around nothing.

“Please… please, Johnny.” you cry out, rocking your hips back and forth desperately in an attempt to get any friction possible.

“Please what, sweetheart?” he murmurs as he grips his cock, tapping the head against your clit and slathering your slick all over it. “Birthday girl still has to use her words.”

“Please fuck me already.” you whine, your nails digging into his biceps as you spread your legs wider around his hips. “Need you to fuck me, please.”

“Never get tired of hearing that.” He drags his cock against your pussy a few more times to gather up as much wetness as he can before finally pressing himself into you. You feel your cunt stretching around his girth to accommodate him, his tongue and his fingers having prepped you well but never enough for how thick he is.

His thrusts start slow and gentle, but Johnny isn’t a patient man, nor does he feel like holding himself back tonight. He lifts his leg up to reposition himself, before completely pounding his cock into you. It’s almost animalistic the way he loses himself in you, making you cling to him as your thoughts are consumed solely by Johnny and the way he’s making you feel. You breathe heavily, forcing your eyes open as you stare up at him.

Johnny looks as ravished as you feel; mohawk tousled from your fingers running through it and damp from sweat, his pupils blown out you almost can’t see the blue behind them. The thick, rough pads of his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs as he fucks you without hesitation, pushing himself as deep as he’s able to he watches the way your cunt keeps sucking him back in.

You feel him everywhere, his cock spearing you open while one of his hands moves to grope your breast, rolling your nipple between the pad of his thumb and his pointer finger. Your mouth drops open in a silent moan and he uses the opportunity to spit directly into your mouth, feeling it coat your tongue as you make eye contact while you swallow.

That must’ve set something off in him, because you’re instantly rewarded with him fucking you so perfectly it makes you see stars. “Just like that, Johnny! Right there, right-”

He cuts you off as he grips your hips harder to angle himself deeper, the head of his cock hitting the spongy spot inside of you perfectly. “Yeah, yeah, I kno’. Right there. Acting like I don’t kno’ yer pussy inside an’ out, like I haven’t made this pretty pussy my fuckin’ home.”

He leans down, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Think ye forgot I practically molded yer cunt to my liking, bonnie.” he whispers, his hips smacking against your ass with another thrust as if to prove his point. “Believe me, pretty girl, there’s nothing about you I haven’t memorized yet. And that includes all the ways I get tae make ye cum.”

His hand moves from your breast to your stomach, gently kneading your skin as he continues to pump into you. “Wanna cum inside ye. Figured out what tae get you as yer gift.” He meets your eyes as he rubs soft circles against your stomach, smirking as he feels you clench down on him. “Yeah? Wanna have my baby? I’ll make you a mama, don’t even have tae ask.”

You don’t have it in you to reply, your mind feeling fuzzy as you feel the pressure build up inside you again. “Johnny, I’m so close, so so close, I can’t…” you pant, your senses nearly overwhelmed from all the pleasure Johnny’s making you feel.

“I kno’, love. It’s a lot, aye? S’okay, you can be good for me and cum.” he coos, his hand going from your stomach to above your pussy, his thumbing working roughly against your clit.

You arch your back against the mattress with a mewl, his cock and his thumb on your clit working together to send you over the edge. He holds you steady as you squirt for the second time, your juices soaking over the dark curls trailing up his stomach and at the base of his cock.

Johnny fucks you through your orgasm, his own following shortly behind yours. He dips his head to the crook of your neck, sighing out your name as his hips stutter and he finishes inside you, hot ropes of semen coating your pussy as his thrusts slowly slow down. He keeps his cock where it is, allowing his cum to be plugged up in your cunt.

He collapses on top of you, panting and trailing open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. He wraps his arms around your waist, cuddling you tightly as he looks down at you with love in his eyes.

“So good to me. Happy birthday, my girl.” Johnny murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he cradles you against him, your chests rising and falling in unison. “Love you so much. You have a good time tonight?”

“I love you too.” you smile warmly, catching your breath as your lips meet his. “I’m having a great time, Johnny, all thanks to you.” You try to lift yourself up from under him, before feeling his grip against you tighten ever so slightly.

“Where do ye think yer going, bonnie?”

“Don’t you need to take a breather?” you ask quietly, your confusion evident as he shakes his head and guides you back down against the mattress.

“Dinnae think for a second that I’m done with you.” he grunts, pulling his cock out just enough for you to feel his cum run down your thighs and onto the bed sheets before he thrusts into you again. “I’ll make this a birthday to remember.”

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scekrex · 2 months

Note

Im not sure if counts as an ask but. But hear me out.

Adam X Male Reader.

But...

Adam is at meeting but forgot to take the ribs his newly wedded husband (AKA, The Reader) made for him. So being the good husband he is, Reader goes to the place where the meeting is being held at. To give Adam the Ribs.

He arrives and busts down the door. Because he got no fucks to give besides giving Adam the ribs.

When he does, he saw Adam looking back at him with a shocked expression along side Lute who's face mirrored Adam's. A usual site besides the shock.

But what surprises him is that on the side of the room is Lucifer and Lilith (perhaps Eve too if you want) But Reader quickly gets over it, he came here on mission after all.

So he walks to Adam gives the ribs then he proceeds to remove Adam's mask to french kiss him. Then proceeds to walk out the busted door.

But not before looking at Lucifer and Lilith and saying "Our daughter is better than yours." Pointing at Lute as he said this. Then he leaves.

Leaving everyone process what happened.

Also leaving Adam having to explain who that was to his most hated enemies while trying to figure out how to tell Lute, He and his Husband see her as a Daughter.

Omg it definitely counts as an ask and fuck it's a good one on top of it!! It's cracky and I love myself a crack fic

Part 2

I bring the ribs, I bring the drama

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

When you got a text from Adam that informed you he had just reached hell and was attending the meeting scheduled with Lucifer and then spotted the robs you had made for him as a snack still standing on the counter, you did the only logical thing as the husband of the first man. You grabbed the plate filled with ribs and went after him and his forgetful ass.

Reaching hell sure wasn’t as hard as Adam always made it out to be, it was simply a long elevator ride that came with it and knowing the brunette the way you did that alone was reason enough to usually pull his little holograph stunt. But once Sera had caught onto that, she had had a serious talk with Adam, explaining why he wasn’t allowed to continue attending the meetings that way, so he had been forced to physically appear at this exact meeting. Which meant you had als a long ass elevator ride ahead of you. Nothing that would stop you from bringing your husband his much desired food though, you knew from experience how grumpy Adam could get if Sera sent him down to hell without a snack. And you desperately wanted to avoid grumpy Adam coming home only to realize that he had forgotten the snack you had prepared for him beforehand.

When the elevator doors opened with a quiet ‘ding’, you stepped through them and headed to the two winged doors right across the small elevator. You carelessly kicked the doors open, the handles on the inside both hit the walls with a loud ‘thud’ that echoed through the room that had gone quiet the second the doors had opened to reveal you. The glowing yellow eyes on Adam’s mask widened in shock as he spotted you, right in front of you sat Lucifer, his back had been facing the doors but the king of hell had turned around to look at you, confusion was written visible in his eyes as he tried to remember if he knew you. By his side was his wife Lilith. Great. The fuck-up and the cheating whore, both in the same room with your sweet darling. Seems like your little mission of food delivery was more needed than you had first thought it might be. But you knew Lilith was a pain in the ass and so was her husband. Lute fluffed out her wings as she narrowed your eyes before her expression turned into shock just like Adam’s.

In silence you walked around the ridiculously large table that was taking up most of the space in this room, given that its purpose was meetings it seemed to make sense though. You placed the plate in front of Adam, eyeing Lucifer and Lilith, hatred lingered in your eyes and you let the king and queen feel and see how much you despised them. They had caused nothing but trouble, they had been responsible for hell to even open its gates in the first place. Fuck-up, cheating bitches. Then your attention shifted from the married couple across the room to your husband. Hands reached for Adam’s mask and due to the element of surprise you had on your side, he was still trying to process that you had just walked in on this meeting like it was the most casual thing you had ever done in your entire existence, which is why he didn’t stop you from removing his mask. You placed it in his lap, careful not to drop it, you knew how much it meant to Adam and you weren’t intending on leaving scratches on it.

The golden eyes of your beloved were filled with shock and confusion, yet in the far back you saw a glimpse of thankfulness spark in them as you gently reached for his chin and pulled him into a kiss, it was meant to be a quick peck on the lips, but when Adam’s hand shot forwards to grab your waist and keep you close, you kept moving your lips against his. The presence of the others that kept you company inside this meeting room were forgotten in an instant, all that you could focus on were Adam’s soft lips that met your gentle movements so well. You slightly tilted your head to deepen the kiss, by squeezing his jaw you forced the first man to part his lips for you, providing the entrance your tongue needed to explore his mouth from the inside. When the tip of your tongue brushed against his, inviting him to dance with yours, Adam found himself unable to hold back the quiet moan that bled into the soft kiss you had started. And his tongue caught up quicker than his brain did, dancing with yours in Adam’s mouth as you claimed it as yours yet again.

When you pulled back in order to breathe in some stinky hell air - yet it was air so you didn’t mind all that much - you looked into Adam’s wide eyes, this time it wasn’t shock that reflected in them, it was love paired with desire and a shimmer of lust lurked in the back, you knew what he would give for you to stay, to keep kissing him like that, to maybe even sit down on his lap like the pretty little lap prince both of you knew you could be if only you wanted, but that wasn’t part of your mission. Your mission had included the task of bringing your husband food and that you had done successfully so you wiggled out of Adam’s lazy grip and pulled away from the first man entirely.

As if nothing had happened you rounded the table yet again to make your way over to the large doors you had just kicked in, yet you couldn’t help but stop on Lucifer’s side of the table. You slammed your hand down on the blue-ish looking wood, leaned in close to the blonde one and loudly stated, “Our daughter is better than yours, suck dick old fucker,” while you pointed at Lute to clarify which daughter you were speaking about. Lute’s expression shifted from shocked to confused and you watched as Adam’s lieutenant eyed the first man with a mix of confusion and pride. Then you straightened your back and walked out óf the room, once outside in the hall, you raised your hand to snap your fingers which resulted in the doors falling shut behind you with an equally loud sound as they had been opened with. And with that, you left hell again.

Once the door had fallen shut behind you, Adam had been quick to put his mask back on in order to hide the blush that started to bloom on his cheeks, Lucifer must not know about the effects you had on the first man, not when the blonde little devil sitting across from him was his sworn enemy. “Who was that?” the blonde man asked and pointed with his thumb to the closed doors behind him, an eyebrow was raised at Adam and even Lilith seemed to be curious about Adam’s answer to the question her husband had just asked the first man. Adam just and casually answered, “My fucking husband, bitch.” Because while your visit had been surprising, he would not deny you in front of Lucifer. He loved you and he was quite proud to be calling you his husband, fuck Lucifer’s opinion on it. “Daughter?” Lute asked as soon as Adam had answered Lucifer’s question and stepped up to her boss and best friend. The first man avoided meeting her eyes, even if it was just through masks. “Yeah, daughter. His idea not mine, fucking deal with it bitch. It brings my man joy so fucking take it.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

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kryptonitejelly · 2 years

Note

ok so we all know Jake is possessive as shit but is it just me that can see him eventually getting to a point where he’s out with his girl and is like yeah baby get those free drinks

like he knows you’re going home with him and him only and he’s got an eye on you if the situation were to go south. but he just has to hold back a laugh when the guy who bought the drinks realizes you have a boyfriend/husband

wkfhskdjsk no, because i can see him getting there as well!! jake might be possessive as shit (because his), but i firmly believe he 100% gets to that point - just because he is there looking out for you in case anything gets out of hand, and c’mon he trusts you 100% - so it just becomes fun for him to watch.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

You are standing by the bar, tapping your card on the counter in habit while waiting for the bartender, Kevin, to finish up with the customer he is currently serving when you hear the voice sidle up beside you.

“Thanks, but I got it,” you take a glance towards the stranger on your right, flashing a polite smile. He is good looking no doubt, but you aren’t interested.

“C’mon, no lady should need to buy her own drinks,” the stranger tries again, while propping a forearm onto the bar counter, his body turning, stance open to face you in a casual confidence.

“What can I get you?” Kevin brings his attention to you both. You open your mouth to speak, but the stranger gets there before you do.

“I’ll have a beer, and whatever she’s having,” he drawls, confidently. You hazard another glance towards him only to receive a wink in return.

“I ca-”

“I insist,” he cuts you off almost immediately and you take in his stance, the insistence radiating off his being and you shrug, before turning to Kevin, whose lips now bear an amused quirk; something that one would think is a showcase of amusement at the scene unfolding in front of him, but you know better.

“The usual?” Kevin cuts in, his lips now split into a toothy grin.

“Sure,” you shrug, relenting and Kevin nods lightly, hand already reaching for the card machine, fingers punching in numbers, before he proffers the machine to the stranger who taps his card against the reader.

“So, you come here often?” The stranger asks, and you shrug nonchalantly,

“Now and then.”

“I’m Nick,” he introduces himself, body shuffling forward and closer to you. You smile to be polite, but don’t offer up your own name in response.

“So are you going to give me a name?” Nick asks, leaning forward slightly. It makes you slide back just an inch, “it’s the least you could do.”

“Alright, three beers,” you are saved from responding as Kevin thunks down the uncapped bottles down in front of you both, sliding one towards Nick, and the other two towards you.

“Your usual is two beers?” Nick tilts his head, eyes darting from the sweating bottles and back to you.

“Yup,” you pick the bottles up, one in each hand, nodding a thanks to Kevin, who you note has a lazy wide grin on his face of someone who had seen this happen one too many times “our usual is a beer each” you say simply, while tilting your chin towards the back of the space.

You watch it unfold, Nick’s eyes following the direction of the tilt of your chin, before landing on one Jake Seresin, lounging in his seat, back leaning against the wall, marinating in a quiet kind of smugness, his gazed fixed on you.

“Thanks for the beers though,” you say, with a small upward curve of your lips, eyes taking in Nick’s jaw which has unhinged itself, as his mind whirls, no doubt the collect itself, “they are, very much appreciated.”

You clink one of the bottles you are holding in a hand against Nick’s own which is still standing on the counter before pivoting on your heel to pick your way back to Jake.

“Who should I be thanking this time darlin?” Jake greets you, his eyes dancing with mirth as you set both bottles down on the table.

“You’ve started to enjoy this a bit too much,” you say, as you squint up, eyes narrowing slightly, at Jake who pulls a bottle off the table and raises it in the air, no doubt at Nick, who you are sure, has post the thanks from Jake, scurried off in annoyance.

“It’s a treat,” Jake drawls, reaching over to slide his fingers beneath your chin, tiling your head up and towards him, before tugging your face lightly towards his own; you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning lightly across your own lips, “free drinks, and the knowledge that they’ll never have you because you’re mine,” he chuckles lowly, before brushing his lips against yours, the ending to his sentence something you feel against your own lips, “nothing more a man could ask for.”

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narislvr · 17 days

Text

HEY THERE, SUBW4Y GIRL

one-last-stop au ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ | e.williams x fem!reader

cw? reader is painfully bad at asking women out (she will get better dw) new characters introduced, plot is beginning, literally just fluff for now, book dialog and possible(not really) spoilers, not proofread

nari note ᝰ.ᐟ Hi! I just wanted to say thank you so much for all the support on the first part of this series, it really motivates me to keep going and I hope I don't disappoint! Im not staying entirely book accurate but If you've read the book and want certain scenes to show up then please let me know! If you'd like to be part of the taglist then lmk also! That's all for now, and thank you again ♡

m.list [๋࣭🪻] part one [ 🌆 ] palestine-resources & daily click

"The spark in Subway girls eyes ignites so brilliantly that August half expect her to jump out her seat. "Wait, that's my sandwich! I invented it!" ── page 35

Weekday evening shifts were your favorite.

The lights were always dim, painting the old diner atmosphere in hues of orange and amber, and with how slow it was, you weren't forced to run around hoping that table six wouldn't holler you over as you ran to get pancakes for table nine. It was actually quite nice at times.

Being a waitress at a 24/7 diner was not in your plans when you moved away from your last campus all the way in the other corner of the country, but Millers was nice. The building, despite it’s age and outdated fashion, was homey and even with the annoyance of leaving the place smelling like pancake batter and greasey bacon, it was a place youve come to hold dear in your heart.

Having a soft spot for the place and liking your job, however, didn’t mean that you were necessarily good at it a hundred percent of the time. Sleep deprived rushes particularly, made you loath coming in saturday evenings, but today was good.

The evening had been going relatively smooth so far. In the two and a half weeks you’ve worked here, your mistakes have leveled down to now and then little to mix-ups —not counting wedsdays slip up— and your boss, Eliza, had yet to come in and save the day by placing an extra plate of toast on your tray when you accidentally forget them in the kitchen.

With it being close to nine on a Thursday, work was slow, thus, you found yourself leaning on the front counter scribbling random drawings on your notepad with a Miller’s House Of Pancakes pen in hand. With the scribbling, you mindlessly began to reflect on your week so far; your first full day of lectures went well, and balancing work and lectures hasn't been so bad yet ──but then again, the semester just started. Rent was coming up and you had saved enough to pay your share of the apartment and really other than Monday morning's coffee accident, things have been good.

Monday morning…

Subway girl.

Truth be told, you hadn't stopped thinking about the pretty stranger you met on the train a little over three days ago. Sure, she may have only offered her kindness out of pitty at the sight of your teary face, but it was something touching to you nonetheless. It was something that she needed that day, spmething that went right. You didn't see her on your commute to work earlier today, and a part of you couldn't help but feel disappointed. She was just some girl ──green eyes, freckled cheeks, tall and teasing── you had talked to for no more than five minute and yet your mind couldn't stop replaying her smile and her fingers brushing the curve of your shoulders as she wrapped her scarf around you.

You were hopeless

Eliza comes up behind you, shaking her head with a tut of her tongue as she perches her elbow on the counter beside you. "Slacking off on the job, new girl?" Her brow was arched and despite the edge in her tone, you could tell she wasn't exactly scolding you for it either.

"Sorry," you respond as you straighten yourself up. There's a hint of a smirk on the women's face for a second before she shakes her head.

"You eat?" In the six hours you've been in shift, you hadn't eaten anything other than a pack of fruit snacks you'd taken from one of your roommates snacks in the pantry, but did she really have to know that.

‘Uhm, yes?”

"Liar. That's why you slack off. You don't eat. You have no energy," Eliza shakes her head calling out to the man on the grill before you were even able to argue back.

“Jesse!”

"What!" He responds, annoyance in his muffled voice.

“Ew special”

"I already made you one!" Eliza groans, responding with a "for the new girl, Jesse," in an even more annoyed tone before turning to leave at the sound of table 3 calling for more syrup.

What in the world was an ew special?

—

An Ew Special as it turns out, was a sandwich with hashbrown and some cheesy ketchup concoction which honestly, was way better than you expected.

The time on your cracked screen marked 10:07 as you made your way into the subway station for your commute back home. Atleast tonight you'd get a decent night's rest before another full day of lectures and another evening shift. And with that, you sat on one of the benches under fluorescent lighting waiting for your train.

Around your neck was the scarf from before, this time it being worn to keep you warm rather than to cover a stain on your shirt, and definitely not because it was a gift from the handsome girl from before. Nope.

It doesn't take long for your train to arrive, and as you walk in, you can't help but glance around for a familiar auburn haired girl. And again, she's not there, what were you expecting? She was merely a kind stranger, one of the few you've encountered and have never seen again, why would she be any different?

—

The following morning, you follow your usual routine. Wake up, take your vitamin c gummy and see if there's any breakfast worthy left overs before taking a shower, get ready, and leave the 4th floor apartment to make your way to your station. It was a nice routine, one you wouldn't mind repeating the rest of your days in Seattle with the exception of one new thing you've recently had the habit of doing: look around for the girl on the subway, Subway girl.

Subway girl was a smile lost in the tracks. A girl who showed up, saved the day, and blinked out of existence.

It was embarrassing the amount of times you've looked for her only for the same result, so, in order to save yourself another disappointment, you'd instead focuse on yourself and not look around.

And you don't look around, not intentionally atleast, not until a group of late-twenty year olds step off the car two stops into your ride and you catch a glimpse of a familiar auburn girl.

Subway girl. The flannel she had worn the day you'd first met her sat neatly on her lap alowing for a better view of the outlined tattoos on her arms as her white t-shirt sleeves were cuffed below her shoulders.

You couldn't believe your luck.

Her eyes were closed as her head leaned against the window sill, but as she felt your gaze from across of her, she slowly opened her eyes and her mouth formed a soft "oh" in surprise.

"Coffee girl," She smiles, sitting up in her seat as she turned to face you directly. There's a pleasant glint in her eyes as she looked at you, one that you hoped you'd see forever.

“Subway girl.”

Her smile spreads. “Mornin’.”

Your brain tries to reply with a "hi", perhaps ask about her day, but your mouth goes to say "morning", and so what comes out is, "Horny.”

Maybe it's not too late to jump out the emergency exit. You expect her to turn away, wonder why she'd even tried to talk to you, but instead she snorts.

Her eyebrows raise in amusement before she grins teasingly with her voice ever smooth, "I mean, sure, sometimes." She rolls her shoulders back and pulls down her faded green headphones, the ones you saw the day you met her, before setting them on her lap with her flannel and taking out her Walkman to pause her music. It was interesting, you'd never seen anyone actually use a Walkman ──much less walk around with it── but you didn't question it.

"Sorry, I'm─ morning brain. It's too early," you muster out and something shifts in her expression.

"Is it?" Subway girl asks with what seemed like genuine interest.

"Yeah, um... I had a late night.”

Her brows raise again, and you couldn't help but look away as she seemed to try and guess what it was that had kept you up. "Doing what?”

It's not necessarily a lie, but it's not exactly the truth, and really you just needed some cover to not look like an idiot after the word vomit from a moment earlier. "Oh, uh, I had a night shift. I wait tables at Miller's and it's twenty-four hours─”

"Miller's...? As in Miller's house of pancakes on the edge of the city?”

She rests her elbows on her knees and perches her chin on her hands. Her eyes are wide, and curious, her attention solely on you as she awaited your answer.

"You know it?”

She bites her lip, which is fine, and she shakes her head.

"Oh man, I used to wait tables there too," She says. "The owners would argue about how they wanted to name the place so it would always change until they stuck with that.. Jesse still in the kitchen?”

You laugh, her mind blown expression causing a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. Lucky again. "Yeah, he's been there forever. I can't imagine him ever not being there. Everyday as I clock in he's all─”

"Mornin' buttercup," She says in perfect imitation which earns another small laugh from you. "He's such a babe, right?”

"A babe? Oh god," Your reaction gets yet another snort out of her, and as the two of you meet gazes again you both fall into a fit of laughter. It was sweet, and nice, and maybe, just maybe, meant to be.

"Man, there's this thing they serve there now and.. God, it's delicious. I had it the other day, an Ew special'.”

The spark in Subway girls eyes ignites so brilliantly that you half expect her to jump out her seat. "Wait, that's my sandwich! I invented it!”

"No way! Really?"

"Ew is a play on to my initials E.W," She explains. "I had Jesse make it specual for me so many times that eventually everyone else started having them too. Can't believe he still makes them there. He might be in love with me or something," She quips.

"Maybe. He makes them all the time and it's absolutely delicious, it definitely brings you back after a long shift, so, thank you.”

“No problem,” Subway girl says. Shes got this far-off look in her eyes as if she were reminiscing on the sights of customers and the smells of the diner, but she shakes the look off and lets out an exhale. “God, I miss that place. I don’t know if you feel it but, something about it… It's magic.”

You don’t do magic, but who were you to say that when she looks so wistful as if there was a deeper meaning behind her words so you simply hum in agreement.

‘I don't know how they haven’t fired me yet. I’m not the worst waitress, promise, but I accidentally dropped a pie on a five-year-old two days ago. We had to give him a free T-shirt.”

It takes a second, but Subway girl laughs, loud and hearty before shaking her head. “You'll get the hang of it soon,” She says with so much confidence that you believe her instantly. “Small fuckin’ world, huh?”

“Yeah…” You agree. “Small fuckin world.”

A comforting silence lingers in the air as you smile at each other. Subway girl is the first to break it as she glances at the scarf sticking out of your bag, “Nice scarf, by the way.”

You forgot you still had it with you so you quickly go to take it out and hand it to her but subway girl is quick to hold up a hand. “I told you to keep it and besides,” she pulls out a blue plaid one out of her bag, “It's been replaced.”

You look between the scarf in your hand and the green eyed girl in front of you, “I, yeah– thank you again, so much. I wanted– I mean, it was my first day of class and i was already late and didnt want to show up looking–”

“Hey, I mean, Its not that you looked bad,” Subway girl counters. “You just… looked like you needed something to go right that morning. So.” She shrugs, and the intercom suddenly comes on, announcing a stop that was barely audible from how unusually garbled it sounded.

Subway girl points over at the board. “Thats your stop right? The one heading to the college?”

Shit. It was your stop.

You realize as you swing your bag onto your shoulder and glance at the girl across from you that you might never get this lucky again. You seeing her again after 4 days of disappointment could have just been the world messing with you, raising your hopes up only to have her leave for good leaving you with only the memory of the pretty subway masc who saved the day and left you wanting more.

“I’m working breakfast tomorrow. At Millers,” You blurt out as you stand up. “If you want to stop by I could sneak you a sandwich. As payback for the scarf y’know?”

Subway girl looks up at you with an expression so strange and unreadable that you feel your stomach drop, of course, you had to find a way to ruin this. Whatever “this” even was.

Her expression clears up however and she smiles again, “Oh, man. I'd love that.”

“Okay,” you say and start walking to the door, still looking at her. “Okay. Great. Cool. Yeah-” You were going to stop saying words any second now. God, you usually weren't this awkward about asking people out.

Subway girl only watches you go, an amused look in her eyes as she moves a strand of hair from her face.

“What's your name?” she asks.

You stop in your tracks and turn around accidentally hitting another passenger getting off with your bag. “Ah– It’s [ ]. My names [ ].”

Subway girl's smile softens as if she somehow already knew.

“[ ],” she repeats. “I’m Ellie.”

“Ellie.. Hi, Ellie.”

Subway girl, now known as Ellie, smiles. She brings her hand up to her face and gives you a small salute as you say her name, a dorky gesture but one you found endearing nonetheless.

There's a little warning bell to announce the door closing so you quickly step off while still trying to keep your eyes on the auburn haired girl.

“The scarf looks better on you anyways,” Ellie winks, and the Subway doors close in front of you.

TAG LIST ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ @seraphicsentences @amberputh @k1ssesworld @mikellie @williamellieslilho @boobdrug

#HEY THERE SUBW4Y GIRL ᝰ.ᐟ #one last stop au!#subway girl!ellie ☆#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie williams au #ellie williams tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #ellie williams fluff #tlou fanfic

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fluentmoviequoter · 28 days

Text

With You, Even When I'm Not

Requested Here by the amazing @newobsessionweekly!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: When one of Tim Bradford's enemies is released from prison, he sets out to hurt Tim by hurting you. You trust that Tim will save you, but time is not on your side.

Warnings: angst, car accident, torture (injuries to r), based on 2x11 but this isn't a rewrite (for once lol), crying, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 5.5k+ words

A/N: I didn't include a scene with Tim threatening someone like he does in 2x11 and I kinda regret it because it was hot, but I also really like how this turned out...

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“The almighty Tim Bradford isn’t coming to save you. You know why? Because you’re already dead.”

You force your eyes open and ignore the pain and fear to say, “So are you.”

Less than eight hours ago, you sat beside Tim in roll call. You force yourself to remember that rather than consider what Ferguson plans to do to you.

- 8 Hours Ago -

Your day starts like any other: you wake up, get ready, go to the station, and take your seat beside Tim for roll call. The sun is bright, the sky clear, and Los Angeles is event-free for once. So, it has the makings for a good day.

“What is up with you?” Tim asks quietly.

“What do you mean?” you counter.

“You’re all smiley and happy. Someone puked in my shop yesterday and you’re acting like this is the best job in the world.”

“It is!” You chuckle at his look before explaining, “It’s going to be a good day. Just let me enjoy this one for every hundred bad ones I’ve dealt with.”

“Sure.”

Wade enters, and you give him your full attention, though you never forget about Tim. He’s a constant in your life, and you wish you could have him by your side every moment, not just during roll call.

“Nolan, Harper is back so you can return to your TO,” Wade says.

“That’s why you’re so happy,” Tim muses. “You got rid of Nolan.”

You shake your head and smile before you stand. You’re patrolling in one of the nicest Los Angeles neighborhoods today, so you probably won’t see or hear Tim much today.

“Have a good one,” you tell him.

“Be careful,” he replies.

You exit the room, and Tim watches you go. Lucy walks to his side and stops, aware of what he’s looking at and longing for.

“Let’s go, boot, don’t just stand there,” Tim demands.

“Bradford,” Wade calls. “A word? Chen can stay.”

Tim nods and follows Lucy to the front of the room.

“Ferguson was released on parole this morning,” Wade says. “Sorry to tell you like this, but I thought you should know.”

“He had fifteen years left; how did this happen?” Tim asks.

“Who’s Ferguson?” Lucy inquires.

“Someone I arrested,” Tim answers. “He threatened to kill me when he got out.”

“Oh. Uh, should we-“

“That is up to Officer Bradford,” Wade interjects. “If you want to sit today out, I’ll understand.”

“No. I’m not letting him ruin my life, too. We can handle Ferguson if he’s stupid enough to show his face.”

“The parole board seems convinced he’s reformed, but we both know he’s a good liar and a better manipulator. Keep your eyes open, Tim, and don’t hesitate to call in anything you think is a threat.”

“Yes, sir. Let’s go, boot.”

Tim leads Lucy to the shop, and he's quieter than usual. Lucy hasn’t been a cop as long as him, but she knows what it’s like to have a criminal blame you for the consequences of their actions. She won’t push Tim, not about this, but she has questions about everything she heard.

“Pull up Roscoe Ferguson,” Tim says as he turns onto the road. “Get familiar with his face. If you see him, I want you to know it’s him.”

“You really think he’ll do something?” Lucy asks as she turns the dashboard computer toward her.

“I’m counting on it.”

“Dispatch, this is 7-Adam-9, are there any alerts in my area?” you ask into the radio.

“Negative, 7-Adam-9.”

You nod to yourself and place the radio back in the console. The morning has been quiet and slow. You know you shouldn’t complain; a sunny drive in the hills is rarely a bad thing, but you’re a cop, and you’re getting bored.

“7-Adam-9, switch to channel 4 for Sergeant Grey,” dispatch instructs.

You turn the channel dial and let Wade know you’re there. He doesn’t answer, and you slow at a stop sign as you bounce the radio against your thigh.

“You’re in the hills, right?” Wade asks suddenly.

He doesn't use your name or call number, only asks a rushed question. It concerns you, but you remain professional.

“Yes, sir,” you answer. “Do you need me to come back?”

“No, stay up there. Just wanted to double-check.”

“What’s going on?”

Wade goes silent again, and you repeat the question.

“Nothing, I hope. Just trying to keep everyone connected to Bradford out of the heart of LA today.”

“Why?”

“Ferguson was released.”

“He has 15 years left on his sentence!” you exclaim into your empty car.

“I know. I’m trying to get everything figured out and petition for it to be reversed, but for now, just keep working.”

“Yes, sir.”

You turn the channel back and set the radio down. Roscoe Ferguson hates Tim and would do anything to get to him. Tim knows you're here for him, so you focus on your assignment. The Hollywood hills are quiet this morning, but you know better than to let your guard down.

As you turn onto Tahoe Drive, you notice a black truck in your rearview. He gets close to the tail of your shop but slows suddenly and turns onto Tahoe Place. You roll your eyes; the people who live in the Hills drive like they own the hills. They probably do, but it doesn’t excuse unsafe vehicle operation.

You round the bend where Tahoe Drive turns into Lake Hollywood Drive, and the Hollywood Reservoir comes into view. When you glance up, you see the black truck speeding toward you again. You hit the lights and leave them on for a few seconds as a warning, but the driver doesn’t slow. If they pass you, you’ll stop them and issue a ticket, you decide.

There’s a point on Lake Hollywood Drive where there’s less than 200 feet of terrain between the road and the reservoir. It’s covered in sparse foliage, but it would be easy enough to get to the water or hide in the trees. You realize too late that the truck isn’t slowing down or moving to pass you as you near that point. It rams into you from behind, and you lurch forward before the seatbelt catches and snatches you backward. Steering is pointless as the shop slides into a small patch of dirt. The truck is still driving, pushing your car forward. The driver stops just before you collide with a tree, and you reach for the radio.

It's fallen from the console, and the seatbelt holds you uncomfortably tight to your seat. As you wrestle to free yourself and get the radio, you don’t see the man exit the truck or approach your window. He hits it with an illegal tool used for breaking into cars, and you turn your face away as glass showers over you.

“Hi,” he greets. “7-Adam-9, right?”

“And you’re Roscoe Ferguson,” you answer.

“Bradford, get back to the station,” Wade radios, “Now.”

“What’s going on?” Tim asks as he makes a U-turn.

“Ferguson stole a truck. We don’t know where he went after or what he’s planning to do.”

“We should find him,” Lucy says.

“And don’t say you should go look for him,” Wade adds. “You’re too close to this.”

“He’s not going to kill me, Grey,” Tim argues. “Let me help. I caught him once; I can do it again.”

“Get back to the station. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tim sighs as he continues driving toward the station. The last time he worried about Roscoe Ferguson, you were sitting beside him. Though you’ll never take the credit, Tim thinks you’re the main reason he finally got Ferguson in cuffs.

“What now?” Lucy asks.

“We find a way to help find Ferguson,” Tim replies.

“Get out,” Ferguson demands.

He pushes the gun closer to your face, and you raise your hands slowly. Your left shoulder aches from the impact of the seatbelt, and as you reach through the broken window to open your door, you feel the tiny scratches littering your face and neck sting. Ferguson pulls you away from the shop and pushes you toward the reservoir.

“What’s your plan here, Roscoe?” you ask.

He taps the gun against your back to make you keep walking. With your back to him, you slide your hand into your pocket and remove the laminated piece of paper you keep in it. It falls to the ground, and you hope it’s enough to help Tim find you and Roscoe.

“Kill me to get to Tim? Hurt him without touching him because you know he won’t let you get the chance?”

“Shut up!” Ferguson yells. “Walk!”

Taunting him may not be your brightest decision, but making him mad will make him careless. When you reach the water, he grabs your belt and pulls you backward. Your breath rushes out as your back hits the ground, but you smile through the pain.

“You will never beat him,” you say.

“Tim Bradford took everything from me. Let’s see how he likes the feeling,” Ferguson responds.

He raises the gun to your face and pushes the barrel against your forehead. You keep your eyes on him, unwilling to flinch in the face of death. He changes his mind, however, and brings the butt of the handle down against your temple instead, and everything goes dark as the water blows in the wind.

Tim and Lucy have been relegated to desk duty. With Ferguson on the run and numerous threats against Tim’s life, Wade decided it would be best for him to stay here. Wade watches them from his office and shakes his head when Lucy begins twirling her handcuffs around her finger. His phone rings and Wade steps away from the glass door to answer it.

“Sergeant Grey,” he answers.

He listens silently before lowering the receiver and stepping out into the station. Tim looks up, and his expression drops immediately.

“What happened?” Tim asks as he stands.

“They found the stolen truck. It was involved in an accident near the reservoir. He, uh… Ferguson ran a cop off the road, and they’re both missing.”

“Who?” Tim asks, urgency and panic lacing the syllable.

Before Wade can answer, dispatch reads your badge number in a missing officer alert, and Tim’s blood runs cold. He freezes, staring at Wade as he realizes what has happened and that it’s his fault. Tim never anticipated Ferguson going for the people Tim cares about – loves – and he should have.

“Let me go out there,” Tim demands lowly. “I can find her.”

“I shouldn’t,” Wade answers. He looks to Lucy and adds, “But I will. Don’t try to do this alone, Bradford. Take help where you can get it.”

“I don’t want the credit; I want her back,” Tim snaps.

“Then get to the reservoir and do what you do best, Tim.”

Lucy nods at Wade, an unspoken promise that she’ll do her best to help him and keep him from spiraling. They both know that it’s easier said than done.

“Tim,” you call out when you wake.

“Nope, just me,” Ferguson says.

He’s sitting across from you as he carves a piece of wood into a chipmunk. Your arms are tied tightly behind you, and one of your ankles is secured to a metal pole with your handcuffs. Whatever he’s planning to do to you will hurt you, but it will hurt Tim much worse.

“I hope you’re asking for a lot of ransom,” you mumble.

“You and I both know this isn’t about money. It’s about that little partner of yours and what he did to me.”

“Making you pay for your crimes? Yeah, he’s a terrible person.”

Ferguson moves forward quickly. The half-finished wood carving falls to the floor as he presses the knife under your jaw.

“These whittling knives are small, but I can cut an artery before you can call out to him again,” he threatens.

You swallow, causing the knife to bob in his hand. He presses harder and turns to the left before standing. Warm blood trickles down your neck, and you wonder what he plans to do to you before he kills you. If you didn’t have so much faith in Tim, you’d be tempted to anger Ferguson and trick him into killing you early. It’s a terrible thing to think, but at the end of the day, you’re a cop, and you know when your chances aren’t good enough. Right now, they are.

“When he gets here, he will put a bullet in you this time,” you tell Ferguson.

“You stopped him last time,” he answers.

He’s planning to use you as a human shield; let Tim be the one to finish you off in the darkness. Perhaps that’s why you’re underground. The only light you see is from a small lamp; when it goes off, you will be plunged into complete darkness.

“Stop talking,” Ferguson demands as he retrieves his chipmunk. “We don’t have much air in here.”

You try not to let your shock show, but as you look around and fail to see a single air vent, you worry that Tim won’t make it in time. Forcing yourself to take a steady breath, you close your eyes.

“No, no, no,” Ferguson chides. “No napping. We have to stay awake for the pre-game, and the final score.”

He tips your head back, and your eyes open instinctually. When he sees that, he tightens his grip on your jaw and circles you. Looking at him upside-down, you tug against your restraints. He raises a foot and places it on your bound hands before stepping down hard and fast. Your shoulders pull backward at a painful angle with no room that makes you yell in pain. Ferguson’s laugh drowns out your scream, and he keeps his hand on your jaw as he lays a rope over the back of your neck to hang over your shoulders.

“He’s going to kill you,” you say between pants when Ferguson releases your face.

He hinges at his hip, invading your personal space as he smiles and says, “You too.”

“Bradford, there’s blood,” an officer alerts.

Tim steps to your open shop door and sees a few small, oblong blood drops on your seat. Based on the shape, you were in motion when they fell, and it wasn’t enough blood to kill you.

“Probably from the glass,” he decides. “Let’s move toward the reservoir. We can’t tell footprints apart but watch where you’re stepping!”

“Tim!” Lucy yells from just past the tree line.

He jogs to her side and looks down. She found a small, laminated piece of paper, and Tim recognizes it immediately. Your self-proclaimed “perfect fortune” from one of your first dinners together as P2s rather than rookies. He picks it up and looks toward the water. He’s looking in the right place, you made sure to tell him that, but he feels like he’s missing something else.

“Please,” you whimper, even though you know he can’t hear you.

“How many more times do I have to tell you?” Ferguson asks. “He’s not here.”

The only thing on your mind is Tim because if you stop thinking about him you’ll only know the unbearable pain and the man inflicting it. Ferguson places his foot between your legs, pushing against the chair slowly. It tips back, and you close your eyes and imagine Tim catching you. It doesn’t stop the initial pain of your leg being held in one place by the handcuffs as the rest of your body moves back or the scream you release as you hit the floor, but it does give you a reason to keep fighting. Ferguson pulls you up nearly as fast as he tipped you over, and the rope digs in against the side of your neck.

“This is the best workout I’ve ever had,” he says.

He wipes the sheen of sweat from his forehead, and you notice how hot and thick the air seems. Ferguson admitted that the air supply was limited, so if you start wasting it, maybe he will leave.

“If you call him…” you begin slowly. “Let me hear Tim Bradford’s voice one more time, and I will lure him here for you.”

“Do you think I’m dumb?” Ferguson asks.

You nod and immediately regret it when he pulls the rope and forces your head down toward your chest.

“I’m not letting you take control. This is my plan, and it ends beautifully.”

“I can’t do this!” Tim yells.

He runs his hands over the back of his head and down his face as he squats by the reservoir. There are no other hints about where Ferguson took you, nothing to guide Tim toward saving you, only dirt and broken promises. He told you that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you; Tim whispered the promise in the dead of night when you were asleep during an overnight patrol, yet he’s holding himself to keeping it like it will kill him if he doesn’t. Because it will.

“Tim don’t give up yet,” Lucy encourages. She lowers beside him and lays a hand on his back. “We can do this, but we have to work together. The paper means something right? Could it be more than an indication she was here?”

Tim wipes under his eye, and Lucy’s eyes widen as she realizes tears are streaming down his cheeks. He stops them quickly, but she pats his back to remind him he’s not fighting alone. You’re fighting, too, and Tim needs to remember that.

“Lucy, I lo-“ Tim stops suddenly, though Lucy is confident she knows where he was going. “I know what it means.”

He stands quickly, and Lucy follows him to the place where they found the fortune. The little strip of paper from a fortune cookie has been in your pocket since you read it, but not only for the encouraging message on the front.

“34831,” Tim says.

“Your badge number?” Lucy asks, tilting her head to the side. “What about it?”

“It was on the back of my fortune that night. Hers, though, didn’t have a number. So, we wrote one on it.”

“What’s the number?”

“2 25 12 9. I didn’t think she’d know what it meant.”

“What does it mean?”

“It’s an alphabet cypher, but backward.”

“B, Y, L, I,” Tim rattles off. “If she had this, she may have left more clues at those points: 2, 25, 12, and 9.”

“This would have been about 2,” Lucy says, gesturing to the ground. “That’s what, 2 meters from the car?”

Tim furrows his brows at Lucy’s use of meters but nods anyway.

“We can’t walk 25 meters forward, we’d be in the water,” Lucy points out.

“Then we need to spread out in every direction we can go 25 meters… Unless I’m wrong.”

“Don’t question it.”

“No, she would’ve fought. He wouldn’t have been able to make her go anywhere if she wasn’t willing to. We should assume that she couldn’t leave a trail after this point.”

“Then we’re back where we started?”

“Exactly.”

“Tim, what does that even mean?”

“She’s still here. They both are.”

Tim turns and yells for someone to get satellite imaging of the area and the camera footage from your car. Your body cam and police uniform shirt were discarded by the water but the cameras could tell them what happened before and during the initial attack.

“We’ll find her, Tim,” Lucy promises again.

“Thank you,” Tim whispers.

Running footsteps echo over the top of the tin deathtrap you’re in. Someone yells, and Ferguson ducks his head as he moves out of your sight.

“Tim!” you yell.

Your voice cracks, and as you prepare to yell again, Ferguson pulls the rope around your neck. It digs into your skin and compresses your windpipe. Tears begin leaking from your eyes, and after the day you’ve had, you don’t care to stop them.

“Tim, please,” you whisper.

“Welcome to the final round,” Ferguson says into your ear.

He loosens the rope and pushes your chair forward. His foot pulls down against your hands again, pulling your shoulder muscles cruelly as they stretch to accommodate the impossible movement. You scream in agony as Ferguson pushes you past the point he stopped at previously.

“Did you stop to ask yourself what he’s thinking? Wouldn’t he have found you sooner if he cared? I’ve been out long enough that he knew, yet he let you out by yourself,” Ferguson taunts.

“You won’t win,” you say between ragged breaths.

Ferguson pulls your head to the side to hold the whittling knife against your windpipe, and the cut he made earlier pulls open. Your white shirt is stained with blood and tears, and even as your blinks slow and breathing begins to feel impossible, you trust Tim.

“The almighty Tim Bradford isn’t coming to save you. You know why? Because you’re already dead,” Ferguson says.

You force your eyes open and ignore the pain and fear to say, “So are you.”

Throwing your head backward, you ignore the sting of his knife sliding across the tender skin of your neck. Your skull hits Ferguson’s nose, and he staggers backward with a hand holding his face. Suddenly, you can’t pull a full breath into your lungs. Time has run out, and Tim isn’t here yet. You hold your breath as Ferguson stumbles behind you. He drops, and you see his hand and face are covered in blood. His chest rises and falls slowly, but you’re safe until the rest of the oxygen is used up.

“Tim,” you whisper toward the metal sheet above you.

“Wait!” Lucy calls. “The ground is hollow here.”

Tim returns to Lucy’s side and hears his footsteps echo. It sounds like there’s a metal sheeting under the dirt beneath his boots. He raises a hand to call a few officers over before someone screams. It’s muffled by the metal and earth, but it’s a clear sign of pain. Better than that, it means someone is still alive.

“Find a way in,” Tim demands quietly.

As he searches the area around the hollow spot, he wishes to hear your voice again. Not another scream, but an acknowledgement that you survived whatever caused you such agony.

"Bradford!” Janssen calls.

He waves Tim over and points to a small opening. Together, they lift the heavy steel cover away from the round hole. Another barrier of cloth and metal sheets blocks the entrance, and as Tim digs through, he wonders how much air is getting through, if any. The moment he can see inside the fortified bunker, he pulls his weapon and drops silently into the metal housing.

What was likely meant to be a storm shelter has been converted into a survivalist’s nightmare. A small corridor leads to a wider opening, and a dim light is the only sign that anyone is inside. Tim raises his guns and stays ready to shoot as he nears the opening.

“Tim,” you whisper.

Tim hears your voice and doesn’t hesitate to step into the open room and swing his gun as he clears the small, square area. Ferguson lies unconscious in the corner, and Tim can only see your back, the restraints keeping you in place, and the rope loosely wrapped around your neck and shoulders.

Your shoulders shake as you exhale slowly. When you notice that you can breathe again, you take a deep breath before letting your head fall forward.

“Tim,” you repeat, trying not to think of anything else.

Tim says your name as he holsters his gun. You sit up straight and try to turn your head to the side but are stopped by the pull of the rope and the pain in your shoulders. You hiss in pain before returning to your previous position.

“You can’t trick me, Roscoe,” you mumble.

Tim steps toward Ferguson and handcuffs him. He repeats your name as he moves into your line of sight. His hands are raised to his shoulders, though his expression is pure concern. When he sees the blood, sweat, and dirt covering you and your clothes, he has to fight not to rush to your side.

“Tim,” you say again. Your voice is louder than before but still has an untrusting quality. “Tim.”

When you start crying and lean toward Tim, he kneels before you. He reaches down carefully to use his key and remove the handcuff from your ankle. Your head rests on his shoulder as he moves, and when he sees the damage done to your ankle, the swelling, deep bruising, and handcuff-induced gash, he looks back at Ferguson.

Tim sits up slowly and raises a hand toward your face. He pushes your hair back softly and waits until your eyes meet to speak.

“I need to go get backup,” he says.

“No, no! Please don’t leave me, Tim,” you plead through your slowing tears.

You lean forward and wince when your shoulder meets its new range of motion.

“I need to get Ferguson out of here,” Tim explains. “There’s a lot of people above us waiting for me to signal.”

“Tim, please.”

“Can I yell?”

You swallow as Tim moves closer to you. He stops an inch away from you, with your knees almost touching his ribs.

“I’m not going to yell unless you say I can,” he adds.

Tim waits for your nod, then leans away from you slightly to yell for Janssen and Lucy to come in.

“Help me,” you whisper when Tim’s eyes return to you.

He sits back on his heels as he unloops the rope from around you. It’s heavy, and he sees your shoulders drop once it’s away from you. They drop unevenly, though, and he knows you need more help than he can give you.

“I’m staying with you,” Tim promises, “but I have to untie your hands.”

You shake your head quickly, and Tim moves his hands to the sides of your thighs as he agrees not to leave. He asks Lucy to free your hands and keeps his hands on you as Lucy cuts the restraints.

“Thank you,” you say.

Tim doesn’t answer before you pull your arms forward. With them free, you don’t hesitate to raise them and wrap them around his shoulders. It hurts, and you sob as you fall forward and cling to Tim. He welcomes your touch and wraps his arms around your waist, but he doesn’t touch you, too mindful of how injured you are and where those unseen injuries are.

“I knew you’d come,” you say through your tears.

Tim looks over your shoulder as Janssen and a few other officers carry Ferguson to the opening. He should call an EMT to meet you here, but he can’t let you go yet. His grip tightens around your waist without thinking. When your only reaction is relaxing against him, Tim holds you as tightly as he needs to. Your tears are drying, and you turn your face toward Tim’s neck to speak.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t leave more clues,” you begin. “But I knew you didn’t need them.”

“The paper was smart,” Tim replies. “And I will always find you.”

“He wanted to lure you down here and trick you into killing me. Every time I called out for you he reminded me that we would both die.”

Tim exhales deeply, unsure how to tell you he knows you and he’d never make that mistake. He sits back, twisting you so that he’s holding you against his chest rather than letting you support your own weight.

“It hurts,” you say softly.

“Can you get out of here? Go up the ladder?” he asks.

“There’s a ladder?”

Tim’s brows furrow at your question. How did Ferguson get you down here if you weren’t conscious when you came in? He shakes his head; the detectives (and Tim) will look into the details of your abduction later. For now, your safety is the priority.

“Can you climb out?” Tim asks.

“Not without help,” you answer. “I don’t think I can walk.”

Tim looks at your ankle again, and his eyes catch on the fresh blood pooling against your collarbone. He leans closer to you to find the source. When he sees the cut across the front of your neck, he knows you need help sooner rather than later.

“Hold on,” he instructs you.

“I- I can’t move my shoulder.”

Tim lays you against the metal floor and looks at your left shoulder. It’s out of its socket, but Tim can’t risk pushing it back in without knowing if your muscles or ligaments are still intact.

“Please just get me out of here.”

Tim nods and turns around so your hips are beside his shoulders. He leans down and pulls your legs over his shoulder rather than your arms. With one hand pressing your shoulder to your side, Tim stands and pulls you up in a modified fireman’s carry. You stifle the yell that tries to escape, and Tim’s heart breaks when he hears it. He spent so much time fighting, desperate to find you, that he didn’t consider how different things would be when he did.

With the help of Janssen, Nolan, and Lucy, Tim gets you back above ground. He collapses to the ground but makes sure you’re set down with care. You reach out for him immediately, and Tim pulls your chest to his again. The paramedics are close, but until they arrive, Tim will hold you like he never has.

“I’m so sorry,” Tim whispers.

“You found me,” you reply. “You found me.”

Your right hand squeezes Tim’s shirt in your hand as you hold onto him. You didn’t doubt him for a second. Being in his arms gives you the safety and comfort you need to fall apart because you know he’ll hold you together.

“I know what it means,” you say. “Or I think I do. B-Y-L-I; it’s backwards, right?”

Tim nods against you, and you smile through your tears. The paramedics arrive, and you’re carefully removed from Tim’s grasp, though his hand stays in yours. You’re not sure you’ll ever be able to let go, but Tim has already made a new promise, and he won’t leave your side until he’s forced to.

“Where’s Kojo?” you ask as Tim leads you into his house.

“He’s staying with Lucy tonight. He gets excited when he sees you and I didn’t want him to hurt you,” Tim answers.

He guides you to the couch and sits beside you after placing your things in his guest bedroom. Tim refused to let you return to your apartment alone after being discharged from the hospital, and you didn’t need much convincing to stay with him while you heal.

You lean your head against Tim’s shoulder, careful not to jostle your shoulder in its sling. He moves his arm to welcome you closer and tilts his head to rest beside yours.

“It’s I love you backward, right?”

Tim looks down at your hand, surprised to see your fortune in it. He takes it from you and flips it to see his handwriting. He nods and sits up straight. When you turn toward Tim, he wipes under your eyes as if he can still see the tears you cried when he saved you. Your skin is littered with scars and reminders of what Ferguson did to you, but Tim still seems to only see you underneath all of it.

“It’s I love you, Bradford,” he answers. “Whether you wanted that to mean ‘from Bradford’ or something else.”

“I begged for you to save me while I was down there with him.”

“I’m-“

“Don’t apologize. I just- I need you to know I trust you that much because I know you love me. I’ve known for a long time. But I also knew that even if you didn’t find me in time, I would die loving you. And life was worth living because you were in it.”

Tim’s hands rise out of his lap before freezing. He looks down at your neck and back to your eyes before smiling. His eyes look misty, but you know yours are, too, so you decide not to tease him about it this one time.

“I don’t know where I’m supposed to put my hands to kiss you,” he mumbles.

You hold his shoulder as you lean in and kiss him. His hands raise to your waist without thought, and other than the soreness of using your obliques to search for Tim while tied in place, it’s a painless touch. Tim moves slowly and intentionally as he kisses you, reminding you of everything he said and did, even what you weren’t present for.

“I love you, Tim Bradford,” you say against his lips.

“I love you. I will always love you, and I will never lose you again.”

Tim slides the fortune into your pocket as he kisses you again, and every pain and fear you faced disappears because you know Tim will always find you and make you whole.

#hanna writes✯#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford fic #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #requests #fem!reader #the rookie abc

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kitashousewife · 1 year

Text

“so, what was it this time?”

“osamu!” you shriek, nearly jumping out of your skin when you round corner and find the grey-haired miya leaning against your kitchen counter.

eating your chips.

“i thought i locked the door,” you mumble, throwing the fridge open with a huff. your eyes land on a bottle of wine from a week ago, one you got after your last date.

“i have a key,” he says, mouth full of chips. “besides, ya texted me to come over, remember?”

you’re drinking straight out of the bottle, rolling your eyes at both his attitude and the dribble of wine that falls down your chin and onto your pajama shirt. he’s right, you texted him the second your date dropped you off. it was awful, and who better to complain about it to than your best friend.

“yeah, i do.” you put the bottle down, sliding it across the counter to osamu who slides it back and shakes his head.

“well, let’s hear it then.” osamu picks a couple more chips out of the bag, gesturing toward you. only then do you realize he’s still in his work clothes, black t shirt and onigiri miya, even his apron is loosely wrapped around his hips.

“it was awful, worst one yet. he didn’t even pick me up. sent an uber to get me,” osamu interjects with a snicker. you continue. “i get to the restaurant, and he didn’t even acknowledge me when i sat down! just nodded at like like some dog while he talked on the phone to who knows who for at least 10 minutes.”

osamu nods, seemingly unamused.

“then he spent the entire dinner telling me about how much money he makes, the cars he owns and his latest vacation.”

“business man?”

“actor.”

osamu laughs out loud. “in anything good? anything i’ve seen?”

“well if it’s good, we all know you haven’t seen it,” you hoist yourself onto the counter across from osamu as he shakes his head. “but no, commercials mostly. he said he was really hoping to get on that one soap opera, the-“

“so he was a self absorbed asshole?”

“pretty much,” you nod, picking at your nails. “such a waste of my time! i couldn’t believe it. by the time i finished my food his was untouched! he was yapping the entire time.”

you continue on, gesturing wildly about yet another guy who took up your friday night. and it ended the same as all the others: you, sitting in your pajamas while osamu listens, eating your snack. usually, after an hour or so, you let your feelings out and head to bed, leaving osamu to head back to his own place.

tonight though, he doesn’t want that outcome.

truthfully he’s had it. he’s sick of these guys, tired of hearing about how you’re getting treated when he’s fully capable of doing it himself.

“stop spending your nights with these losers, let a real man take ya out.”

you exhale. “i’ve been trying! not my fault i keep getting set up with them.”

osamu groans while he chews the remainder of the chips, tossing the once full bag into the trash.

“i have someone to set ya up with,” he returns to his spot, directly in front of you and crosses his arms.

“please, who is it? after all this time you finally have someone?”

he nods. “he’s tall, dark hair, has a good job. his own business, actually.”

you hum, kicking your feet back lazily off the counter. he takes a step closer.

“he loves his momma, a real mommas boy type. he’s on time, respectful, and knows how to treat ya like a real woman.”

you raise an eyebrow. “and just who would that be?”

he places his arms on either side of your thighs, trapping you on the counter.

“yer lookin’ at him, sweetheart.”

#osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader fluff #miya osamu x reader #osamu fluff #osamu x you #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff

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little-lost-lamb · 2 months

Text

The Sting of Envy

CW: GN!MC, hurt/comfort, angst, occult practice, fluff, mention of kids (kinda?), Demons Being Overall Taller Than Humans On Average, Asmo's part is suggestive, and - of course - jealousy. Please let me know if there is anything I didn't think to add!

_____________________________________________________________

Of course you moved in with Solomon when you went back to the human realm. It only made sense; it’s a big realm after all, and you needed to be close to your teacher. To your demons, however, it was a decision that they did not like to think about. Would Solomon try something funny? What did you do together? Did you enjoy a level of domestic human bliss your demons could only dream of? Or were you largely independent of each other?

They’d probably be delusional if they thought this wasn’t right, that this isn’t where you actually belong. Safe, happy, with other humans. With Solomon. But your demons miss you desperately.

So when you invite everyone to a Beltane party to break in yours and Solomon’s new place together, even Barbatos arranges to ensure he and Diavolo can attend. No one would dare turn it down. Even if it results in envy eating away the very muscle of their hearts.

_____________________________________________________________

Lucifer

His head is swimming from glass number…2…3? He had lost count of how many glasses of red wine he had drunk at this point, but certainly more than intended. How could he not? He had to drink to try to quell the emptiness he felt seeing you thrive here, without him. Don’t get him wrong, there’s pride in this as well - he’s always proud of you. So Proud. How independent you are here. You’re so capable, so strong. You don’t need him to protect you like he did in the Devildom.

As much as he would never admit it, he adored that dependency you had with him. But not here. This is your home, your domain. What hurts the most is that, if you do need help here, you won’t be summoning him - not unless it’s something very important. You’ll call Solomon. Your roommate. He can’t bear to think of this arrangement as anything but plutonic. But he wants you to know you can lean on him for anything.

The alcohol impedes his ability to bury these emotions in the backyard of his brain. They’re inescapable. He feels the familiar sting of tears threatening to form on his lash line. You don’t need him.

“Lucifer, I need you!”

What?

“Can you come here for a moment? I can’t reach this serving dish.”

He stumbles slightly from the wine as he shuffles into your kitchen and watches as you balance unsteadily on one foot, reaching helplessly and futilely at a dish perched on the top shelf. Lucifer’s eyes flit back to Solomon, his nose in his own wine glass, chuckling obliviously at some joke form Asmodeus. He saunters to your side, almost huffing.

“Why don’t you ask Solomon? It is his home after all.” he says, more pointedly than intended.

“Huh? Are you kidding? Look at this cabinet! He’s taller than I am, but he’s still an average-sized human. He can’t reach up here either. We usually have to get a ladder or use magic. I know you can reach it easily though. C’mon, or are you really going to make me go get the ladder when you’re right here?”

Lucifer sighs and shakes his head, but he can’t hide the prideful curve of his lips. He approaches you from behind, softly resting one hand on your waist as he effortlessly grabs the dish and sets it gently down on the counter in front of you.

“Besides,” You lean your weight back into him, craning your neck back to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “I would rather you be the one to help me. I’ll always come to you for help when I need it.”

He blinks rapidly a few times, fighting the sting of his lash line once more as he wraps his arms around you and buries his face in the warmth of your neck

“Say it again.”

Mammon

“I have a little Beltane gift for you, MC.” Mammon’s ear perks up as overhears Solomon talking about gifts. It had better not be cooler than mine, he thinks, thumbing over his own gift for you hidden in his pocket.

He can’t help but to peek around the corner to check out this inferior gift of Solomon’s. Mammon immediately feels put to shame by the presentation alone. The box is wrapped in brown paper, twine, and pressed human realm wildflowers, probably picked by Solomon himself. Fuck.

“Oh, no, I wish I had known!” Your brow furrows as you look up at Solomon. “I...didn’t get you anything.”

“Unnecessary.” Solomon assures you. “It’s nothing big, just something I noticed you needed.”

You smile at him and shyly open the gift, carefully handling the flowers and setting them aside to keep. Instead of an expression of delight at the box’s contents, your face falls into an expression that can best be described as guilt.

“Solomon, I…this is so nice. Too nice. I couldn’t possibly accept something like this without having gotten you anything!”

Humble as ever, Mammon thought, as you pulled out a new pair of leather boots. They seemed cool, well-made, designer. Not that you ever really cared about that stuff. You were modest and practical, and Mammon admired you for it. He wished he could be like you in this way. Of course, he could never turn down free designer boots.

“MC. I have had 3000 years for my fortune to collect interest. I can absolutely afford to replace your boots - which you have worn the soles out of, by the way. Don’t think I didn’t notice. You needed new ones. Please allow me this.” Solomon softly grasped your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Mammon felt like he had been punched in the gut. “Interest” is a concept barely comprehensible to him. More familiar concepts are: “debt,” and “overdraft.” Broke. He wished he could give you anything - everything. He would spend every cent he had to adorn you in the most stylish clothes, the comfiest shoes, the shiniest jewels. He'd take you on luxurious vacations, just the two of you, to the most romantic locations in the demon realm. He would spoil you rotten. But he couldn’t - not like Solomon could. Solomon, who lives here, in this modest home with you, living like he doesn’t have a royal fortune on reserve somewhere (somewhere Mammon desperately wished he could get his hands on.) Solomon, who doesn’t waste every grimm he has gambling and splurging until he is broke enough to wait tables in a seductive bunny outfit and appease giggling, gawking beings who are not you.

Suddenly, the baggy in his pocket felt like a boulder. In actuality, the baggie’s contents are lightweight, small, and…free. But he’ll be damned to the circles before he gives up an opportunity to spoil you.

He waits for a rare moment when you are alone, preparing something in the kitchen for the party, then he makes his move.

“MC.”

You turn to him as he calls you, your face lighting up by his mere presence. And of course you would be happy by the presence of the Great Mammon, your first man. And maybe that would count for something when you open his gift, paling in comparison to the one just presented by Solomon. His cheeks tinge as he holds out the bag, rubbing the back of his neck shyly with his free hand.

“Here. For you. Think of it as a gift for the host.”

“Oh, Mamms! You didn’t have to do thi-...” You’re rendered silent as you pull out a delicate, homemade bracelet. Your smile again drops, but this time it morphs into an expression of awe. You inspect it closer, sliding the colorful beads of a friendship bracelet until you reach letters.

T - R - E - A - S - U - R - E

“Mammon…”

“I-It ain’t much! I know it ain’t, not what ya deserve, but… My luck was lousy at the track this weekend. I didn’t have much left, but I still wanted to get ya somethin’. Borrowed some stuff from Levi. He makes things like this for his “faves, waifus, husbandos,” or whatever, and he wears ‘em to think about ‘em. I thought maybe…you could do that t-...”

Suddenly the wind is knocked from his lungs as you throw yourself at him, flinging your arms tight around his waist.

“I love it. I love it so much. I’m going to wear it every day we’re apart. Would you put it on for me?”

Mammon makes no effort to hide his satisfied grin. He slides on your homemade friendship bracelet, made with all the love in his heart, while the expensive new boots Solomon gifted you lay untouched in the box next to your shoe rack.

Leviathan

It’s too much. It’s all too much. Levi groans and clenches his stomach, the discomfort on his face apparent.

“I…ugh…I’ll be back. Where’s the bathroom?” Levi quickly darts in the direction Solomon casually points as Asmodeus calls after him, frustration in his tone. “I told you not to eat the leftover rainbow pizza when you knew we were about to come here to eat!”

“Yeah,” chimed Beel, “I wanted it to tide me over until dinner.” Beel clenched his own stomach, though likely feeling a different kind of discomfort than Leviathan. Levi doesn’t look back as he storms into the bathroom and slams the door behind him.

“Hey! Easy!” he hears Solomon’s muffled scorn, but he doesn’t care. Not when he is in so much agony.

“It hurts, fuck…” He clenches the lip of the sink, desperately trying to control himself. And it would be so much easier if everyone else could get it together. Every one of them, he felt all of it; every one of them, all at once, seething with envy. The air was practically miasmic with it, and he had to feel the envy of all. of. them. His own was unbearable enough. He raised his face to the mirror, examining his red-tinged sclera and furrowed brows. Then something more interesting catches his tearing eyes.

No. No no no. Are you kidding him? Toothbrushes. Two toothbrushes, one no doubt Solomon’s…and one yours. The mug they’re in, is that…a Disney World cup? Did he take you to DISNEY WORLD?? The cute, fantastical mouse-themed amusement park in the human world? Where you wear matching outfits and hold hands and ride ridES AND BUY MERCH AND EAT JUNK FOOD AND…

He could feel himself hyperventilating until he finally lost control of his human form, his tailing unfurling and his horns erupting from his messy hair.

He wanted to go to the mouse park with you! HIM! He wanted to share a toothbrush cup and home and host a dinner for his family with you! IT SHOULD BE HIM!!!

Before his mind even knew what his body was doing, he found himself curling pathetically up into your bathtub. He spotted a pink bottle of something on the edge, and as he rested his head against the porcelain, he caught a whiff of the gloopy substance inside. It was shampoo. It smelled like you. And Solomon got to smell it every day.

It was the last thing he needed to send him over the edge. The anger of the envy he felt fizzled up all at once, leaving nothing but the despair. He choked out a muffled sob, one he futilely tried to catch with his hand before it fell through his fingers. He curled up tighter around himself and sobbed softly, just begging that no one hear him.

Knock knock knock knock.

He ignores it. That is, until he hears the door gently open. He seriously forgot to lock the door?! Way to go, Levi!

“Levi.” You step in and close the door behind you, looking at him sympathetically. There isn’t an ounce of surprise on your visage seeing him curled up in the tub. “What’s going on?”

He hides his face again, hoping you didn’t see his tear stained cheeks. Suddenly, he feels you step into the porcelain, lay down, and wrap yourself around him.

“I’m sorry it’s not very clean in here. I didn’t really expect any of you to go into the tub.” You squeeze him ever so much tighter. “You’re hurting me, did you realize that?”

“I…what?”

He flinches as you curl down the waist of your pants - just enough for his pact mark to peak out from the waistband. The skin around the sigil is red and agitated, as if it had been freshly branded onto you all over again. His mark, as he knew well, was the biggest you had, enveloping your hip and thigh. After Mammon greedily claimed the space over your heart, his jealousy made sure his was the biggest one you’d ever have. He watches you wince slightly as you pull the band back up over your stomach and feather your fingers over your thigh.

“It’s hurting my heart too. To feel you hurting like this.”

“Disney.”

“…Disney?”

Levi sighs and hesitantly glances at you from his periphery.

“Everyone is so jealous right now. All of them. Even Barbatos! It’s suffocating me. They’re probably jealous of you being here, living with Solomon, and him having you all to himself. He’s shady, who knows what he’ll try! And I’m jealous too, you know! Of course I am! And then…then I saw your toothbrushes. And your cup. You must have gone together. And I want to go with you…”

His voice fades to a whisper, every ounce of his energy sapped by the envy radiating within the house. You are quiet for a moment.

“Do you know why he took me?”

Levi barely cared, but he listened anyway.

“Barbatos stopped by one day. He had some kind of business with Three Crows and took the opportunity to say hello. He mentioned that Diavolo and you guys were all at Devilcat Land that day. After Barb left, I was so sad, wishing I could have been there with everyone. With you.”

This got Levi’s attention, and he huffs out a short burst of disbelieving laughter.

“We had to leave early because I started crying on the teacups. It made me think about that time,” you interrupt yourself with an involuntary chuckle, "that you spun our cup so fast that Lucifer threw up! The Avatar of Pride! Spun a little too fast and threw up in a Devilcat trash can!”

Levi softens, laughing with you, his grip around you tightening.

“Don’t be jealous.” You press a soft, sweet kiss against his lips, wet with tears. “Because I miss you every day.”

Satan

He knew he must have mirrored Lucifer’s body language, brooding over his glass of red wine, but he was too mad to care. Maybe “mad” wasn't precise. His eyes went to Levi, his face contorted with some sort of discomfort and clutching his stomach. Asmodeus made a comment about Levi’s upset stomach, but Satan was too emotionally intelligent to believe it was his lunch from earlier that ails him: he must be overwhelmed by everyone’s envy. Levi’s. The rest of his brothers’. Satan’s.

Satan kept it hidden well, of course. It was what he did constantly and what he did best - keeping his emotions in check. His expression had yet to falter and his tail remained concealed as he perused the selection of your bookshelf. He allowed himself a subtle smile, seeing some of the books he had loaned you. He spies a few books that seem like human realm bestsellers he didn’t recognize, but he hoped you’d loan him later if they were any good. He trusted your taste in literature. A few magical reference books, and…oh please… The Lesser Key of Solomon. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. How pompous to have a copy of your own book in your own house. He could feel his irritation rising.

“MEOW.”

His head immediately snaps to the source of the familiar sound. A small, adorable, yellow cat prances right up Solomon, nuzzling his precious fluffy face on his leg. Solomon shifts his attention to the cat and scritches his chin. “Oh! There you are.”

Satan’s head goes fuzzy, his ears buzz, and his heart practically drops into his feet. This was it. He felt the barbs of his tail flick against his ankle and fortunately had the wherewithal to wrap it around his leg before it hurt someone. He stares, jaw hanging, mouth agape. You have a cat together.

“You…have a cat together…” His tone is somewhere between a question and a statement. The displeasure is now apparent on his face.

They have a cat together.

“No!” Satan is grounded by your cry and the thunder of legs pattering down the stairs. “He was supposed to be a surprise!” You hurry down in a frazzled state and scoop the cat up into your arms.

“Tch. He’s not my cat.” Solomon finally teases. “He’s mostly MC’s. We found him wandering outside soon after we moved in here. Ask MC what they named him. I wanted to name him Abraham.”

Still, Solomon stares fondly at the cat, and holds his paw between his thumb and index fingers. For a moment, it almost sounded like Solomon’s tone had a hint of jealousy of its own. You carry the bundle of fluff over to Satan. You give the kitty a loving kiss on the forehead before passing him to Satan’s oh-so-eager arms. Satan runs a finger over the cat’s green collar until he finds the name tag. He flips over the little silver fish to reveal the cat’s name.

Satan Jr.

The flush on Satan’s cheeks creep across his entire face, ears and all.

“I know Lucifer won’t let you keep one, not after the incident. I thought, maybe…he could be our cat. And, you know, mostly live with me. But still!”

Satan peered down wide-eyed at the bundle of fluff, already so comfortable in his arms. Satan Jr.? Theirs?? It felt almost like…this cat was their child. In an instant, every ounce of fury that had built up in his body was transmuted to bliss. He arranged Satan Jr. in his arms so he was pressed against his chest, caressing him like he might his own spawn.

“Then I suppose we have a cat together.”

He tried to play it cool, but you couldn’t help but chuckle at the unbridled joy on his face and the brightness in his smile.

Asmodeus

He is definitely seeing something he shouldn’t - but he can’t look away.

It’s perhaps one of the most beautifully surreal scenes he’s witnessed since his time in the Celestial Realm, yet it’s so unapologetically human.

He had initially been drawn to the sound of your sweet voice, singing as clear as crystal rims in the echoes of the kitchen while you watched over the honey cakes in the oven. He was pulled in as if it were a siren’s song, but it wasn’t. It was beautiful you.

He stopped himself from joining you when he heard Solomon’s voice, equally beautiful and equally moving, begin to duet your own.

Perhaps the song had started one day as one of you overhearing the other, recognizing the melody, and clumsily singing along. Now, however, it was like some kind of hauntingly beautiful mating call between two human lovers. Your voices were intertwined, complimenting each other, rehearsed. You two must have sung this together often.

Asmodeus couldn’t help but peek at his two favorite humans in the kitchen, but now he almost wishes he hadn’t.

Because what he sees when he peers in is the two of you, dancing slowly and softly together as you sing your beautiful melody to each other. Solomon smiles and stares lovingly into your eyes as your cheeks flush and you sing your line. The adoration in Solomon’s gaze is unmistakable. His hand in your hand, Solomon softly rocks you to the music the two of you create together. The golden hour sun lights up every single color on your irises and peppers your skin with the rainbows from the suncatchers you’ve hung in the kitchen window.

From the open window pours a warm spring breeze that lifts your hair to dance in the currents, and assaults Asmodeus’ face with the sweet scent of spring flowers and…you.

It is ethereal.

To see such beauty completely removed from himself begins to arouse envy in his chest. This kind of beauty is unique to humanity, and he cannot be a part of it. But it is not you he is envious of.

Asmodeus loved Solomon. He did. But he had felt the kind of love he feels with Solomon before and will likely feel it again. You, though. You. You made him experience that agony and euphoria of being in love. A feeling he thought he was completely incapable of. Until you.

But if his favorite humans were mates, then…that made sense right? You make sense together. And Asmodeus could have his pick of anyone else in the three realms. Maybe he could even convince the two of you to let him in on things. So why did it hurt so much?

“Apologies, darling apprentice, but I saw your grimoire open this morning. You’re working on a Beltane ritual, yes?”

The singing stopped, but Solomon’s grip on you remained. Asmo could still hear Solomon’s voice despite his hushed tone, because he could pick up the tone of seduction anywhere. While ordinarily Asmodeus would appreciate the game, the honey in Solomon’s words to you made him sick.

Even as a human realm holiday, Asmodeus had heard of Baltane. This one, after all, was adjacent to his domain: a holiday of flames, fertility, and…

“I could help, if you’d like me too. We can even jump over the flame together this year. Wouldn’t that be fun? Then, once we prepare, we can perform the ritual.” Though Solomon whispers against your ear, Asmodeus can faintly make out Solomon purring, “Sex magic is very powerful.”

And with that, Asmodeus was gone. He’d already seen too much.

After dinner, as Asmo shoved his arm through the white, leather sleeve of his jacket to leave, he wondered how he could distract himself from yours and Solomon’s…ritual…later. Perhaps he could find someone at The Fall to drown his sorrows in. After all, it’s not like you and Asmo were exclusive. You could fuck whoever you wanted and he wouldn’t care, he lied to himself. He’s shaken from his jealous slurry of thoughts by a warm hand on his forearm.

“Asmo, wait!”

He takes a deep breath before turning to face you. “I had a great time tonight, hun, thanks for inviting us! I have to get going, but-“

“I need your help with a ritual tonight!”

Your cheeks flush and your eyes sparkle as you look at him. You’re projecting an air of shyness, but Asmodeus can smell it in your pheromones, no mistake. Lust. You were simply adorable. “P-please.”

Ah, interesting. So the ritual wasn’t meant to be performed with Solomon. It never was. How embarrassing for Solomon. Amusement dances in his eyes thinking about you rejecting his advance mere moments after he had walked away. Solomon would be spending the night of Beltane alone, while Asmo…

The corners of Asmodeus’ mouth curl into a dangerous smile and he gently pulls you into him by your hips.

“It’s Beltane, is it not? What kind of ritual could you need me for, darling?”

You’re silent a moment, the blush dusting your cheeks deepening by the second. “It’s Beltane.” You respond.

“Well, well…” You could practically see the hearts in his eyes just before he gently pulled your mouth to his, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. He murmurs against your lips in a deep, seductive tone, “Blessed Beltane.”

Part 2 ->

#obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me solomon #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me #obey me fluff #obey me x mc

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slayfics · 2 months

Text

Explosive Tendencies a slow burn fan fiction about the readers developing relationship with Katsuki Bakugo.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Katsuki gets his provisional licenses.

Chapter links

You tossed and turned in bed, unable to get comfortable or fall asleep. You turned to your side and gazed at the stuffed bear Katsuki had given you- or more like shoved into your arms.

Your mind raced with regret. You should have spoken up and agreed with Eijiro that you wanted to say good night to Katsuki alone but- you couldn't help but feel nervous and overwhelmed.

Why didn't Katsuki say anything?

You let out an exhausted sigh and grabbed your phone. Unlocking your phone and staring at the text thread between you and Katsuki, you contemplated something to say. You typed out a sentence, decided it sounded stupid, and deleted it.

Then to your surprise as you were trying to think of something else to say, you saw three dots appear on the screen indicating Katsuki was typing as well. You set your phone down and decided to wait for his message before you sent one.

You felt your eyes get heavy as you patiently waited- and before you knew it you had dozed off to sleep.

As soon as you came back to consciousness you reached for your phone to see if Katsuki ever sent a message but- your phone had no notifications from him.

Could it be that he was also struggling with what to say? Or maybe the three dots you saw were a mistake.

Either way, it was too late now. Katsuki was at his last supplemental class for his provisional licenses by now. You put your phone down disappointingly and got ready for the day.

Later in the common room, your classmates talked about Shoto and Katsuki taking their final class.

"They will pass, won't they?" Kyoka asked.

"Oh yeah- Bakugo may be a jerk, but he's been doing really good lately," Toru said.

"Maybe I'll make a cake while we're all waiting," Rikido suggested.

"Yeah, we could have a little surprise party for them," Momo encouraged.

The rest of your classmates agreed excitedly.

You shuffled uncomfortably on the couch, "I don't know- something tells me Bakugo would hate that," you spoke. While your classmates did have good intentions- you knew it would just be a reminder to Katsuki that he had fallen behind everyone.

"Bakugo is always a grouch no matter what! Besides they both worked hard and I'm sure Todoroki would appreciate it," Toru countered.

Being outnumbered by your classmate's enthusiasm, you decided to go along with the plan.

When Shoto and Katsuki returned to the dorms, everyone turned off the lights in anticipation of surprising them.

The two boys walked in confused by the vacant common room.

"Did we have a blackout or something? Katsuki asked.

"Maybe everyone else left the dorms?" Shoto suggested.

Your classmates then turned on the lights and popped some party streamers causing Shoto and Katsuki to jump in surprise.

You stood timidly in the back of the group as you watched Rikido present the cake to the two boys.

"That thing is massive!" Katsuki barked his face in a scowl from surprise.

You rolled your eyes as multiple of your classmates fawned over Shoto. Then just as you had predicted Katsuki yelled in a rage at Izuku who attempted to praise him.

"Congrats! Now we can do hero work together! It'll be great, Kacchan!" Izuku sang.

"What do you think you're better than me 'cause you got your license first!?" Katsuki yelled.

"No no! That's not what I meant!" Izuku cried out as Katsuki continued to yell.

You made your way to get cake as the squabble continued. Eventually, Eijiro worked his way over to Katsuki and got him to relax. You eyed the situation as you kept to yourself. You knew Katsuki hated big crowds and too much attention- so you decided not to add to it.

Plus, with the awkward way things left off between you- you weren't sure what the right thing to say was.

It didn't take long for Katsuki to make a swift exit as soon as he could sneak away. You noticed him walk out the front door and shut it quickly behind him.

He must be super overwhelmed to go outside in the cold you realized. The cold was something he hated more than parties. Although he probably thought he couldn't sneak his way all the way to his dorm without someone noticing and trying to make him stay.

You took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to go outside and check on him.

You slipped out the door trying not to make a scene and avoid anyone following you.

Katsuki was sitting on the steps outside the door, "What do you want?" he barked before turning around, "Oh- it's you," he said glancing at you slightly and then resting his cheek back in his palm.

"You ok?" You asked.

"Hah!? Of course, I'm ok!" He yelled.

You sighed and sat next to him, "I just know you aren't a fan of parties and a lot of attention. I told them you would hate it," you spoke.

Katsuki let out a huff, "Yeah well- I get that they were trying to be nice. But... I'm just tired," he said.

"That's understandable, I'm sure it was a long day for you. It must be nice to be all done with those supplemental classes though," you said trying to lighten his mood.

Katsuki grunted in agreement his gaze still away from you, "Yeah glad to be done with that bull shit. It did have its moments thought," He spoke.

"Oh yeah? Like what?" You asked.

"Guess I never finished telling you," Katsuki said, a laugh escaping him. You smiled at his mood finally shifting. "During that test where we had to work with kids- the damn brats started calling Todoroki, Five Winnies," he said bursting out laughing.

"Those kids have better nicknames than you," You laughed with him until the short moment of laughter subsided and you both fell into an awkward silence once more.

"Hey um- I'm sorry about yesterday." You finally had the courage to say.

"Hu?" He murmured and looked at you for the first time of the night,

"After the festival when Kirishima tried to leave," You reminded him.

"Yeah, I know what you're talking about. But- what are you sorry about?" He asked, his eyes looking at you curiously.

"I uh- I just should have said something," You responded.

"Yeah? And what should you have said?" He questioned.

You felt yourself freeze. You hadn't expected him to pressure you into clarifying.

"I uh- I don't know-," You began to stammer. No matter how many times you replayed that scene in your head you couldn't bring yourself to tell Katsuki in-person what you would have liked to say.

You would have liked to thank Kirishima for giving you both privacy and then-

"Ugh," Katsuki grunted bringing you out of your thoughts, his face scrunching up back into his usual scowl. "Stop being such a damn coward and tell me how you feel already!" He barked.

Your face flushed at his words- had Katsuki noticed your crush on him this whole time??

"Come on, you think I'm stupid?! I always catch you watching me during training, you- snuck out to come find me when I was kidnapped, and you practically begged to come see me when I was on house arrest- and, at the summer camp... You were going to tell me you thought I was attractive, right? So just- ugh," he grunted in frustration again. "Look- I- I don't hate being around you like I do everyone else ok- and I know you feel whatever this is between us too, right?"

You nodded shyly completely overwhelmed by his outburst of emotions.

"Good so just- let me kiss you yeah?" He proposed.

Your whole body trembled as your eyes scanned his for any sign that this was a joke. You had imagined scenarios like this playing out between you two so many times that it was hard to believe what was happening now was real.

"You- you do want that right?" he asked again, beginning to get impatient with your lack of response.

You nodded eagerly, unable to form any words.

"Tch- don't be so damn nervous, like I said- I... I like you too," he said, then awkwardly scooted closer to you.

You hadn't seen this expression on Katsuki's face before- was it nervousness? You never once saw him nervous in any sparring or training but- this seemed to be uncharted territory for him.

"Just- don't move ok," he said sternly as his hand shook, placing his finger under your chin and guiding your lips to his.

Katsuki rested his lips on yours, his touch shattered any doubts you had about this being real. The simple gesture transformed what was a friendship into something more meaningful and answered all your questions about how your classmate felt about you.

The blissful moment was over too soon, and your eyes locked on to his as he pulled away- the look on your face full of emotion.

"What?" Katsuki said, his face blushing as he looked away from you.

"Uh- nothing-... that was- that was nice..." you said looking away to hide your own blush.

"Tch- well... you better have enjoyed it because that's all you get," He barked.

"You're kidding right?" You said playfully scooting even closer to him.

"Hey careful brat," he said squirming at your closeness. "Look- I'm... not good at this stuff so... let me go at my own pace, alright?" He requested.

"Ok Bakugo," you agreed.

Katsuki winced, "I just kissed you- there's no need to be so formal with me anymore," He spoke.

"Oh- ok Katsuki," you said blushing once more.

"We should probably go back inside to that dumb party before someone comes looking for us," he said standing up.

You followed his lead standing up but as he was about to reach for the door you called out to him, "Hey Baku-... Katsuki?"

"What?" He asked, turning around.

You reached out and grabbed his hand interlacing your fingers with his.

Katsuki's face was taken over by another blush as he gazed at both your hands. Handholding was a small gesture- but walking back inside to the rest of your classmates like this was a big step. His nose scrunched up as he contemplated the consequences.

You second-guessed yourself and tried to pull your hand away, "It's ok if that's too much," you said.

"No-," he said tightening his grip on your hand, refusing to let you pull away. "It's fine- I don't give a damn about any of those extras anyway. It doesn't make a difference to me if they... know about us- Come on let's just go- it's cold as fuck out here," he said swinging the door open with his other hand.

As if on some silent cue, the whole inside of the common room went silent as your classmate's heads turned to take in the sight of you and Katsuki holding hands.

"Ohhh~ does this mean it's official now~?" Mina sang, bringing her hands together with a huge grin on her face.

"YES FINALLY!" Eijiro yelled.

"WHAT?!" Denki exclaimed. "No way Kacchan gets a girlfriend before me!"

Your face flushed as you looked away from the prying eyes of your classmates.

"SHUT THE HELL UP!! ALL OF YOU! THE NEXT PERSON TO SAY A WORD GET'S THEIR FACE BLASTED YOU HEAR ME!?!" Katsuki yelled, the pupils disappearing from his eyes with rage.

Although your classmates were bursting at the seams trying to hold in laughter and comments, they respected Katsuki's wishes and said nothing else about your newfound relationship

Over time, with the privacy from your classmates, Katsuki slowly became more affectionate with you in his own way, and you both continued to learn how to navigate your relationship through all the stresses of working towards being pro heroes. Taking it one step at a time.

Thank you to everyone who supported this series! I appreciate all of you and I hope you’ve enjoyed it!

Tags: @anon-mouse223 @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @sikuthealien @queenpiranhadon @melrs21 @poemzcheng @kazuumii @bakunianadecorazon @ur-crusty-uncle @reads-stuff-quietly @chixkadee @perfectsukii @faetoraa @fem-weeb @nagicats @lees-chaotic-brain @maelibo @zanarkandskylines @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55

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kingtomura · 25 days

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Vitality | 3

Summary: You were always told heroes and villains had no place in your home. Not when there’s an increase in crime, not when there’s monsters on the loose in Hosu and certainly not when the man in your home raises a hand to you. All it takes is one impulsive decision to change your life forever. content: shigaraki tomura x female reader, slow burn, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, reader has a quirk, graphic depictions of violence, past abuse, past sa, angst, pstd, eventual smut, found family LoV, mdni wc: 4.8k | prev | chapter 4 | m. list | read on ao3

Sometimes days can pass by pretty slowly in the League. It takes time for a good plan to come together.

Today is one of those days.

You’re sitting at the bar, fiddling with your given phone and customizing the home screen when someone slaps a paper down on the counter, startling you from your task.

You glance up and of course, it’s Shigaraki. It’s hard to fight the eye roll, loaded and ready, but you do — the photo on the paper catches your eye instantly.

All too familiar eyes meet yours.

Same hair, same nose, same mouth.

It’s you.

Your eyes widen as you glide over the words printed above your photo.

Missing Person.

You feel the pricks of panic trail its way up your spine as you read the words below your photo.

Have you seen me?

There was no way.

“Where did you get this?” Your voice feels foreign as you fall into the sinking feeling in your chest, the anxiety is beginning to spread throughout your mind and it is taking a lot to remain still. Even though it feels like an impossible task, you try to calm your rapid breathing, hoping that this was some kind of sick joke.

Shigaraki just shrugs, watching your every move as he takes his own seat in the barstool next to you. “All over. These posters are everywhere right now.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “What…”

“I didn’t know your father was the lead detective over the city.” His tone is light and airy as he taps at his phone. Shigaraki’s concentration is deep in the search, but his movements are relaxed — too relaxed for your liking. “That’s impressive.”

Shigaraki seems to find what he is looking for as he turns the phone in your direction. A news article with your face below the headline.

“He’s staging it as a break and enter gone wrong,” he continues, “said they knocked him out and took you away. He’s been in the hospital recovering for a few weeks now.”

You are rendered speechless. He is not dead. Your father is alive and well and he is looking for you.

“Wanna see the press conference?” Shigaraki’s question rings in your ears as he holds the screen up to your face, pinky and index fingers extended as the others clutch the device.

You don’t, but you can’t bring yourself to speak, nor could you shake your head and deny. A morbid curiosity within you wants to see though. It wants to know everything happening outside of these walls.

Shigaraki is pulling the screen up before you could refuse — taking your shell shocked silence as permission.

(Maybe he knew, deep down, that you wanted to see, to know your reality in its entirety.)

Sure enough, there was your father — bandages wrapped around his head and in his detective uniform you knew so well. He stood at a podium, two of his colleagues beside him as he read off of a paper in front of him.

Your father speaks of criminals and senseless violence, he speaks of the injustice done to him and his family and how he will work day and night to make sure those responsible will pay and that you will be brought home safe and sound.

It’s so heartfelt you almost believe it.

If it weren't complete bullshit.

You knew the truth. You know exactly what happened that night and how it all went down.

He is a monster in his own right. One that puts on a front of the caring guardian, but you know so much better.

The truth of it all makes you nauseous.

“And to my precious daughter,” his voice rings through the speakers of the phone, “We will find you and we will bring you home. That’s a promise.”

The video ends there and the screen goes black, revealing your own troubled reflection in the glass.

“He’s going to find me,” your voice shakes as Shigaraki locks the phone and slides it back into his pocket, “I don't have long.”

“He won’t.” Shigaraki is unbothered, crossing his arms with a tilt of his head.

You shake your head, knowing your father all too well.

He is thorough in everything he does and he would leave no stone unturned until he finds you and brings you home. That cursed home you would never set foot in again. The one that haunts your dreams.

There's heat burning at your eyes and you realize it's the sting of tears. You couldn’t cry here, not in front of villains — in front of your leader of all people. It's humiliating.

“He will! It's only a matter of time.” Bringing a hand to your chest, you fist the fabric of your shirt, wishing it could be your heart, open and able to be ripped out of your chest just so you could stop the rapid beating—

“Let them look, but they won't find you.” His voice is calm, rational. It's certain in ways you weren't sure you could believe. “You’re with the league now — we won't let anything happen to you.”

It’s hard to believe when your face is plastered on everything. When a huge search and rescue effort is being made and for all the public knows, you were being held somewhere against your will, subject to all kinds of torture.

It couldn’t be further from the truth.

You can only watch as Shigaraki stands from his seat, exhaling sigh on his lips as he waves you off. Clearly he had other places to be and other things to do.

“It’s getting late, you should get some rest.” he offers, and you note that it's barely nightfall, but say nothing. Lost in a daze as you stare at your feet, tears threatening to fall and humiliate you further.

“Kurogiri.” Shigaraki commands and the apparition nods, opening a warp gate. You can tell by the familiar bedding beyond the portal that it leads to your room.

“We will keep an eye on the situation and make further plans tomorrow.” He announces passively as he walks off, passing by the warp gate and leaving through the door.

The gate will save you a trip of walking through the borderline endless tunnels, and you’re grateful. All you wanted was the safety of your room.

You waste no time walking through and sighing in relief as the portal closes behind you.

There was no chance of anyone coming into your room here, but you move to lock your door anyway — the extra layer of security makes you feel safe.

Your mind swam in the overwhelming feelings, drowning your thoughts in fear and anxiety.

It just couldn’t be. The idea of killing your father was beginning to sound much more manageable than the reality.

And his press conference?

The bed greets you with its comfort and you bury your face into your hands, tears finally escaping and sobs fighting their way through your staggered breaths.

It was all bullshit.

The break and enter, the kidnapping and the promise of finding you.

He wants you back, but not for a friendly reunion. No, the day he finds you again will be the day you are better off dead.

Everything else said is just fluff for the media and crowd.

But you knew better. It is an intimidation tactic for you.

A way to weed out the possibilities of hiding with a good civilian. Any good civilian would take their chance to bring you back to your seemingly loving home and surely loving father. It was a chance for an ordinary person to be a hero and reunite family together from a tragic event.

Bullshit.

The man is abusive. In every way possible and he will take advantage of any benefit given to him. He was nothing more than a shady cop who just so happened to play his cards right and work his way to the top of the food chain.

The idea of someone so cruel being on a team of detectives makes your stomach curl as the sobs you so desperately held tight echo throughout your small room.

It's just not fair.

Why should you have to pay the price for wanting freedom?

The question haunts you as you lie your head down onto the pillows, quiet gasps of your easing sobs filling the room. Your new blankets have always seemed warmer than the ones from your old home. You hold them tight and pray that Shigaraki is good on his word and strong in his promises.

If they cannot find the most wanted criminal in the country then there was no doubt they would not find a missing girl.

You would have to place your faith into this group. It’s the only thing you can do for now and the uncertainty of it all only makes you feel worse.

The uncertainty of it all weighs on your mind as you pray your troubled thoughts won’t catch up to you in the form of nightmares.

———

The meeting of the day is brief and to the point.

Since the media is plastering your face everywhere, it is best for you to stay back at the base. It's not much different from what you had been doing, but still informative for the other members around you.

However, after the meeting you run into a small problem.

A small, blonde and enthusiastic problem.

“Just come with me, please!” Toga is loud as she bounces in place with her fists clenched in excitement. The wild smile on her face makes you take a small step back from her. “It won't take long!”

She was so young, but so… odd. You weren't sure what to make of her. “They just told us I can’t leave.”

“It’s not out in the open! Let me show you!”

You sigh and look around, no one is paying any attention to this scene Toga is causing, which leads you to believe that this must be a common occurrence for her.

Even Shigaraki gives no reaction, only focused on his newspaper and you assume it must not be much of a problem if he doesn’t care.

Well, if he doesn’t see a problem in Toga dragging you around, then you suppose it can’t be that bad. Reluctantly, you shrug and agree.

Toga does not hide her excitement, cheering and waving to Kurogiri.

“Kurogiri! Will you do the honors, please?” She asks the man behind the counter and he agrees, opening a gate and Toga wastes no time grabbing your hand, pulling you through.

The gate leads you to an empty field. So much for not being out in the open.

There’s a sinking feeling of unease making itself present as Toga lets your hand go.

It lingers as she walks on, fully expecting you to follow her along to wherever she deemed so important to show you. Against your better judgment, you follow her, believing in your heart that you were both in the League so there was no reason not to trust her.

But…

The entire situation is odd. Even as you look around the field and see that it is as vast as it is empty, you know that something is off. The girl only hums a tune, completely content with leading you nowhere.

“Hey, healer,” Toga starts, continuing her pace ahead as you begin to lag behind — your thoughts catching up with you and making you slow.

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever dream?”

The question makes your brows furrow as you watch from a distance. She seemed so carefree.

It makes you ponder as you find the words to respond, “No, not really. If I do, I won’t remember them.”

You may not dream, but you do have nightmares from time to time.

They haunt you when you least expect it, but you would rather not share that with a girl who made venomous snakes look good on a bad day. Instead you try to focus on what’s around you. The field is as green as it is empty, and it only makes you wonder more why you were brought out here — wherever ‘here’ even was in the first place.

It’s all unusual.

You look back at the girl and notice she’s stopped walking, causing you to catch up with her.

“Hey, Toga, where are we going anyw—“

Your words are cut short as she turns on you, the silver gleam of a knife in her hand now against your throat.

“I dream, too! But I remember mine,” Her eyes are glassy as she smiles in delight, the look on her face makes you more on edge than the knife against your throat. “I dream of a world I can live freely in. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

The question sounds rhetorical but you bring yourself to nod anyway, swallowing your fear and you can't help but wonder what deity you’ve pissed off to have ended up in this situation.

She pulls the knife back and it feels like you can breathe again, only to be put back on edge as she lunges towards you.

It’s a reflex, the way you squeeze your eyes shut and bring your arms up to defend yourself from an oncoming attack, but you do. Only to be met with nothingness.

Toga presses a hand to your shoulder, using the momentum she gained to jump up and over your head.

The action makes you pause, but you don’t get any time to question as the swift print of a shoe kicks you right in the back, making you fall to your knees onto the ground.

You feel it then, the unease you’ve noticed since walking through the warp gate.

You are weak.

You are small and fragile and it burns at your throat as you grit your teeth in frustration. The idea of being taken down by a child is so fucking frustrating it makes you sick.

The press of Toga's shoe against your back feels like it holds the weight of the world within it.

Every ounce of inadequacy falls upon your back as you curse under your breath. But just as soon as the weight is there, it is gone. Lifted away as she comes to stand in front of you — extending a hand with a smile no longer wicked, but warm.

“Living in this world is hard, you know? It looks like it’s been hard for you too.”

Her words make you still, your eyes meeting Toga’s hand and then dragging up to meet her eyes as well. You decide to take her hand in yours, allowing her to help you to your feet, even though you are still wary of her movements.

“To me, you’re like… a caged bird.” She continues, making a point to keep your hand in hers. “But now you’ve opened the cage and you still won’t fly! That just won’t do.”

It’s difficult to place this feeling in your chest, this string tugging at your heart as you purse your lips, unable to speak as she goes on.

“I love the league. It’s my home. The one place where I can truly be free and do whatever I want.” She looks far away as she speaks, eyes staring off at the now setting sun, illuminating the field in orange and pink hues as she smiles fondly. “I love Jin and Dabi and even Tomura! They’re my friends.”

Her attention is back on you as she brings her hands to your face, cradling your cheeks in her small palms like you were the one needing comfort and not the other way around.

“And I love you, too, little bird!” Toga pulls you into a hug then and it is as warm as it is strange. The action shocks you still, you can’t recall the last time you had been hugged. “I’ll help you fight.”

Toga’s voice is soft as she continues, words dripping with honesty, “The League will help you spread your wings. You’ll fly with us.”

You lean into her touch and think maybe, just maybe, you’re right where you need to be.

———

The scene to greet you both at the bar is a strange one. It makes you raise a questioning brow as you walk through the warp gates.

A rare sight of Spinner and Shigaraki, in a deep discussion, that is somewhat shy of an argument over what seemed to be a video game.

“No, no, no! He is not the best at that! It’s Little Mac!” Spinner is at the counter of the bar, seated next to Shigaraki, his scaled fingers jabbing into the counter beside them.

Shigaraki seems unbothered, an assessment you can only make by the posture he held and relaxed form. You couldn’t make out any kind of expression behind the hand covering his face.

“That’s dumb. He’s easily countered by Ness.” He supplies and this answer only seems to frustrate Spinner more. The latter groaning and desperately pleading his case.

You can’t help the way a smile tugs at your lips as you walk towards the counter yourself, hoping Kurogiri would supply you with more of that fizzy clear soda you enjoyed.

“Hey, healer!” Spinner calls, making you snap your head towards him. “Tell him! Little Mac could beat any competitor with no trouble if you’re skilled enough at playing him!”

You fight the frown making its way onto your face. “Um…” This was about a game, you’re sure but the name of it eludes you. “Is this that fighting game that came out a while ago?”

Spinner is enthusiastic as he nods, just happy you recognize it. “Yes!”

“Oh, um,” your brows furrow as you try to remember the details of it, but it’s fuzzy in your mind. “I don’t really remember much, but I always played as the character with the blue dress. My father said games like that rot your brain, though, so he took the console before I could really get good at it, sorry.”

The memory makes you huff a bitter laugh, mood souring at the idea of a fun game potentially ruining your young mind. “Gotta make sure dad’s keep their daughters’ undivided attention at all times, right?”

The comment was more towards yourself — thinking out loud, really. But the feeling of all eyes on you makes you look up.

You feel like you’ve said something wrong with the way you feel the eyes on you. Even when you let out a small awkward laugh to break the tension it remains. It makes your stomach turn as you are constantly reminded of your unusual upbringing.

Spinner speaks first, with a look of genuine worry on his face. “That’s… not normal. Why would he do that?”

“Um, I’m not sure.” You walk past the group, forgoing the soda and instead choosing to head straight for the tunnels, eager to get out of there and more than ready to shower and go to bed. “But I think I’ll head in for the night.”

It’s a feeling you can’t outrun, you realize as you sit in the shower of the bathroom — allowing the water to run over your body and you watch as it flows down the drain.

You wish so badly things were different. That you could have been a normal child with a normal upbringing and a normal life.

But that just hadn’t been in the cards for you.

You tuck your head down into your hands as your thoughts spun around you. Toga's words invade your mind, swimming around in your head and you agree with them.

You were just like a caged bird.

And even though that door is open, you know exactly what lies outside of it. You know exactly who is watching and waiting for you to take the bait, to come out and risk capture again. The repercussions of escape this time may be much more dire than before and you just couldn’t take that chance.

The warm water of the shower masked the tears running down your face, but nothing could cover the burn of them. The way they sting at your eyes as you fight to maintain composure.

You know exactly why your father took the console from you. Some shitty reasoning lying beneath the real issue of how much attention you were putting towards it instead of towards him.

It was bullshit.

It makes you feel sick.

—------------

Everything feels more peaceful at night.

It’s a comfort you didn’t expect to find here in the league but it is a welcomed one.

The days can feel long but the nights are calm. Even though more than a few of the members are working throughout the night, you are safe to relax and enjoy them. You’ve even started filling your bookshelves. It’s only three books for now but they keep you entertained.

Even when your leader pays you a visit, you don't feel afraid.

Tonight Shigaraki is your patient and he is as quiet as the night. The lack of disembodied hand daunting his face is obvious as the pale moonlight lit the room — bathing his natural features in a soft light.

You’ve learned that there seems to be more than meets the eye when it comes to Shigaraki.

He never asked more than he needed to know, his eyes never lingered.

Tomura Shigaraki had goals and his focus was undoubtedly on them at all times. It made you feel… safe. Like you weren’t a burden indebted to him. Like you had autonomy.

Never anything you had at home.

No one in the league really bothered you or impeded into your space. It was refreshing. It’s why you feel the boldness within you that gives you the strength to ask,

“Why did you send Toga to train me?”

The question breaks through the stillness of the room, catching Shigaraki by surprise, but his expression stays neutral — only opting to raise his eyes from the ground and meeting yours.

The question seems to pull him from his own deep thoughts. His eyes were carmine red and they seemed to glow in the light of the moon. The intensity of them makes you want to shy away.

“She seemed like a good fit.”

“Is it because she’s a girl?” You feel emboldened in the space of your room. The door, forever cracked, allows more light to bleed into the area.

He doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s because she can fight.”

Silence.

You move to heal the next area, a cut along his arm. He went out into the field today and didn’t come back unscathed.

“Does that bother you?” His question surprises you and it shows on your face.

You shake your head, it doesn’t. “No, it’s fine.”

He hums in acknowledgment. There’s an awkward air to the space now, but you’re sure it’s only on your end. Your nerves prickle as you work on his arm, past his deadly palms.

“She did pull a knife on me though.”

“That damn brat.” He huffs a little sigh. “She wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Yeah, I figured that out after. Shook me a little though.” You pause taking in the calm of the room. “Thank you.”

He looks surprised, the small tick of his brow giving the expression away.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said… and my father.” You look down, focusing your gaze along the arm you’re healing. His skin is so pale. You were so close. “I never thought I would get the chance to stand against him, or even fight him. But… I want to be able to if it comes down to that.”

Shigaraki says nothing and you aren’t sure he’s even heard you, yet you go on, speaking the most you have since you’ve gotten here. “I think in any situation, I want to be strong. I want to try to stand on my own. Working with Toga is a good choice, I believe.”

You swallow, nerves catching up to you and it’s a wonder you’ve said this much. You don’t know where these words are coming from, but you can’t help but wonder if you should have probably kept them to yourself.

“That’s good to know.”

His voice surprises you, causing your eyes to look up and meet vermillion. It sends heat spreading along your face and you feel stuck — frozen in place as his gaze locks you into a trance.

Shigaraki is not bad to look at once he no longer had his face fully covered. You can’t help but wonder if it’s inappropriate to think of your leader as cute. Handsome, even.

Lately he has shown you something akin to kindness, but you know better than to let your guard down. He is still a villain. A villain with goals of taking down society.

But…

He could be kind. You feel desperate to find some kind of connection in this new world you’ve found yourself in. You’re not sure what pulls you towards your leader — be it the promise of safety or guidance it just does.

You break out of the trance you’d found yourself in moving along to the battered bruises along his upper arm.

“Also… is Spinner always like that?” The question falls and the corner of your mouth ticks up in a small smile.

This piques his interest. “Like what?”

“Nerdy. Ecstatic about video games.”

Shigaraki huffs a laugh, barely there and light. A blow of air from his nose and nothing more. “Yeah. He’s kind of a weirdo.”

You laugh at this, words falling before your brain can catch them. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

You instantly regret it, freezing your motions and wondering if you’ve made a mistake.

Shigaraki actually laughs. It’s short and shallow and rings in your ears. You decide you like it and would do anything to hear more of it. “Yeah, well, it takes one to know one.”

It’s silly, really. The way you would take any crumbs of generosity after years of the opposite. Years of violation and violence can never compare to consistent kindness and respect.

When you feel your cheeks flush at the sound of Shigaraki’s laugh you feel strange. The feeling makes you remember a quote you had read from one of your mother’s old poetry books.

Something about silver spoons and knives.

But still, you want to indulge the feeling.

“Hey, Shigaraki?”

He hums in acknowledgment, eyes meeting yours again. It makes you focus on anything else, the ground is your subject for now.

“Do you think the investigation will go anywhere?”

“No, they have nothing in their corner.” He’s confident, and continues, “guys like that are full of shit.”

The bluntness surprises you, though it's not unwelcome. “You think so?”

He scoffs at this, “Yeah, it’s all for show. There are no criminals and he’s hiding something deeper behind the pretense of you going missing. If they dug closer into the issue, they would find his lies. He wouldn’t want that.”

You nod in agreement, and for the first time you feel yourself relax a little. Shigaraki was not only sure, but he had the reasoning to back it up. The confidence made you feel warm — glad you were not in this alone.

“Got anything else for me?” You ask, the hint of a smile sneaking onto your lips as you finish your healing. Shigaraki shrugs, shaking his head as he moves to stand.

You don’t know how you hadn’t seen it before but there’s a bandage around his hand. Wrapped tight and kind of sloppy, you reach for it before you think about it, your innate need to help bleeding through at the worst times.

This was perhaps the first mistake you’ve made since joining the league.

Shigaraki’s reaction tells it all. His movements are fast and sharp.

The way he recoils from your touch makes you think you’ve burned him. Shigaraki is on his feet in an instant, knocking the chair he previously sat on backwards and sending it tumbling to the ground.

Your eyes widen in shock as you try to reach out again, an apology quick on your lips, but he’s far away from you now — more than an arms length away and ready to put more distance between you two.

“Don’t,” his voice is low and his glare is sharp, if you didn’t know any better you would think the rise and fall of his chest was from panic instead of anger. “Don’t touch me.”

It hits you then and you curse your carelessness.

His hands.

You almost touched his hands, without a care in the world — just wanting to help your leader out and fully heal whatever you could.

You were so close to danger, so careless.

“Shigaraki, I—” You don’t get to finish your thoughts, already lost to the open and slam of your bedroom door. The air of the room is quiet and still, the only reminder of his presence being the overturned chair left behind.

The silence rings in your ears as the distressed expression on Shigaraki’s face replays in your mind. For someone supposedly so cold to react so strongly to the smallest possibility of accidentally activating his quirk makes you wonder what else lies beneath your leader's layers.

It makes you wonder just who Tomura Shigaraki is.

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