#like bouncing around the room ''panic panic panic panic'' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eiightysixbaby · 8 months

Text

horror movies & chill

word count: 2.6k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie tries to scare you and gets more than he bargained for.

cw: SMUT - 18+ MINORS DNI. this is literally porn with a smidge of plot, sorry not sorry. mask kink, choking, degradation kink on the low (eddie calls reader slut/whore), fingering, unprotected piv, creampie

The TV screen lights up the dark living room, flashes of different colors streaking across the space. You sit on the couch, blanket draped over your lap as your knee bounces absentmindedly. Your boyfriend had wandered off to get something, and now you sit alone in suspense as the girl on screen figures out there’s a killer in her house. The movie goes eerily quiet, the lone heroine peering around her silent home. You know what’s coming next. You’ve seen enough horror movies to know that when it gets too quiet, a jump scare is right around the corner.

And yet.

You scream in unison with the girl on television, two hands gripping your shoulders from behind just as the fictional killer grabs his target. You spring up off of the couch, the blanket falling to the floor in a heap. You spin around, frantic, your body gone cold for a moment. Wicked laughter erupts in front of you as you get your bearings, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

“God dammit, Eddie!” you shout, hand over your heart as you attempt to steady your breathing. “You absolute asshole!”

Eddie’s doubled over behind the couch, a cheap Halloween store Ghostface mask covering his head. He’s still laughing, trying to get words out and failing.

“Baby…” he says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice even though he’s trying to be serious. What a dick. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think I’d get you that good,” he says, walking towards you.

“You’re such a jerk sometimes,” you reply, but nevertheless you let him grab your arms, rubbing soothing patterns on the skin.

“I know. I am, baby, you’re right. That was mean,” he agrees, nodding his head beneath the black and white mask. You know he'd be giving you puppy-dog eyes if you could see him.

You can’t help but laugh, the initial panic leaving your body. You must’ve looked petrified, and you’re a little mad he scared you so badly.

“You’ll have to make it up to me,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest.

Eddie’s head cocks to one side, sympathetic, playing it up for you. “Of course, sweetheart. And how do I do that?” he asks, stepping slightly closer to you.

He wants a genuine answer, but you find your breath hitching in your throat. Maybe it’s the way his fingers rub circles into your lower back. Maybe it’s the heat radiating from his body onto yours. Maybe it’s the sound of his labored breathing beneath that sweaty mask that's getting to you. You press your thighs together, suddenly feeling too hot for such a cold October day.

And Eddie can see, through the mesh eye cutouts, the way you bite your lip just slightly. He can see the way your lips part but no words come out, the way you tilt your hips closer to his. And he definitely feels the way your fingers hook into the belt-loops on his jeans, drawing him in.

“Oh my god. Are you into this right now?” he asks, voice dripping with his smug attitude. He’s grinning like the damn Cheshire Cat, if only you could see it.

You don’t answer right away, shifting on your feet. You look down, not sure if you have the gumption to tell your boyfriend the god damn Ghostface mask is turning you on right now. You were scared shitless mere minutes ago. But the way your heart pounds now is completely different to the way it had before.

“Shut up….” you mumble, your face growing incredibly warm.

“You are so fucking into this right now,” he says, laughing as he gets the last word out.

“Okay, if you’re gonna make fun-” you start, drawing your body away. Eddie doesn’t let you finish.

“Waitwaitwait,” he interrupts, pulling you back to him. “I just didn’t expect it, is all,” he reassures, his voice sounding muffled beneath the rubbery material.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, eagerly anticipating his next move. You can't quite bring yourself to act first.

He brings your body flush against his, two fingers gliding up one of your arms, sending chills down your spine. He leans his face close to your ear, his breathing audible. “I won’t judge if you like the mask, baby,” he purrs, his voice deeper now.

His other hand wraps around your waist, palm pressing into your lower back, pushing your crotch against his. You gasp, goosebumps perking up along your arms. Screams erupt from the movie, the final girl running free from her potential killer. It’s comedic, really, how you’re stood here ready to jump the killer’s bones.

Eddie’s hips roll, just slightly, but enough for you to feel the tent in his pants. You let out a shaky breath, your body seeking him out, wanting him to give you more of that friction.

“What is it, babe?” he taunts. “You want me?”

“Eddie…” is all you get out, a breathy little thing, your hands pressed to his chest.

And then he’s pressing you against the wall, hiking one of your legs around his waist, his crotch pressing against your needy core. One big hand comes to wrap around your throat, cold rings soothing the flames that lap at your skin. He squeezes, making you delightfully hazy, pinning you hard against the wall with his body.

“This what you want, baby? Want me to fucking ruin you?” he asks, voice akin to a growl, squeezing your throat yet again.

“P-please,” you mewl, desperate for more. You know you’re soaking through your panties, practically aching for him.

Something about not being able to see him drives you crazy. Relying on just his voice, trying to gauge his tone. You’re writhing beneath him, grinding yourself against him. He’s so hard it has to be painful, you can feel it even through the layer of denim covering his bottom half.

“Oh, she’s so desperate, huh? Pussy needs me, baby? God damn…” he rasps, and you throb for him.

His fingers dig into the meat of your thigh where he holds it, giving it a sharp squeeze. His other hand removes itself from your neck, tugging down the zipper on his jeans. You undo the button for him, just as eager to get his pants down as he is. His cock stands at attention beneath the fabric of his boxers, begging to be touched. He ignores it for the meantime, though, releasing his hold on your leg and letting you drop it. He makes quick work of sliding your leggings and panties down, fingers collecting the honey that drips from you.

Groaning, he brings his fingers to your mouth, prompting you to suck them. You oblige, mouth opening and enveloping his digits. Your tongue swipes over them, tasting yourself and coating them with saliva. And then they’re pulled from your lips, teasing your clit before slipping into your cunt. Your leg wraps around his waist once more, allowing for a better angle. He scissors those two fingers inside of you, his breathing heavy, sounding almost amplified from beneath the mask. Your hips buck forward, forcing his fingers deeper. One hand grips your side, pinning you back against the wall.

“Don’t be fuckin’ greedy, slut,” Eddie barks, words sending sparks right through you.

His fingers curl in a ‘come here’ motion, your body feeling boneless as you try to keep yourself upright. He laughs, a devious thing, clearly satisfied with how pliant you are for him. You can tell how wet you are from the slick sounds coming from every glide of his fingers, your body so desperately craving more of him. He adds a third finger, prying you open even farther with complete ease, grunting as he feels the way you tense around him.

“Eddie,” you gasp, “f-feels so good.”

“I know it does, baby, I know,” he coos, smirking to himself at the way your body writhes beyond your control. “Gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy, hm?”

“Yeah, oh god,” you cry, head tipping back as you moan to the ceiling, his fingers pressing so deep inside of you.

He moans despite himself, your cunt completely drenching his fingers. His cock twitches in his boxers, leaks and pleads for you. You’re a little blurry through the eyes of Ghostface, but he can still make out the way your face contorts in pleasure. He loves making you feel like this, loves having you in the palm of his hand.

“My filthy girl, so fuckin’ wet for me all because I put this mask on, is that it? Really gets you going, huh baby?”

He wanted you to like the mask, if he’s honest, and the fact that it’s working on you is driving him up a fucking wall. He needs to be inside of you, needs to fuck you hard and pump you full of his cum before he loses it.

Three fingers slide out of you, squelching slightly as you suddenly clench around nothing. He yanks his boxers down, merely a hindrance to him, his thick cock springing free. You whimper at the sight of it, chewing on your lip as you watch him wrap his hand around the shaft. He pumps himself a few times, lets his pre-cum drip over his fingers, and it makes you ache. You feel like your body is on fire, you need him so bad, white-hot flames licking up your thighs.

A few more pumps and then he’s releasing himself, hoisting you up so both of your legs tangle around him. He grips the meat of your ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh the best he can. He lines his cock up just right, your cunt glistening with your arousal. And you want to kiss him so bad, you want to feel your tongue against his and you want him to bite you, to suck bruises into your neck. The fact that you can’t almost makes you crazier, spurring you on more. You can only imagine what his face looks like as he sheathes himself inside of you, can only imagine those perfect parted lips as he sighs blissfully.

His cock pushes through your slick folds until you can feel his balls pressed against you, his thick length fully seated inside of you. It’s such an enticing stretch to fit him, your whole body vibrating with desire. He rocks himself in and out, in and out, letting you get used to his size. Your cunt has already soaked him in your cream, you can see it pooling where his body meets yours.

“Fuuuuuuck baby,” Eddie groans, panting beneath the warmth of the mask. “Such a needy whore for me, god damn. So fucking wet.”

You whine, canting your hips upwards ever so slightly, the tip of Eddie’s cock pressing so deep inside.

“She’s fuckin’ soaking me, angel. This pussy loves me, doesn’t she?” he says, thrusting into you harder now. He sets a quicker pace, holding your weight against the wall with complete ease.

“Eddie, Eddie,” you moan, waves of euphoria rippling through every inch of your body. He’s so deep and so big and so good.

Your nails dig into the skin of his back, clawing at him through his t-shirt as he fucks you like it’s his last opportunity. You can hear grunts and strained whines falling from his lips, breath coming out in spurts from exertion.

“Babe, fuck, can I take this thing off? Need my mouth on you baby,” he pants, hips snapping against yours and making you cry out.

“Yes, yes - fuck Eddie!” you moan, nearly screaming his name.

The mask is whipped off in one swift motion, Eddie’s unruly curls sticking out. His eyes are wild, pupils blown with sheer need, those perfect lips of his so pink and plump. His mouth is on you in an instant, kissing your lips, your jaw, his teeth biting at your neck. He sucks on the delicate skin, unforgiving as you hiss at the sensation. His warm tongue laves over the irritated area, soothing you and sending a shiver down your spine. You roll your hips, needing more from him, needing him in impossible ways.

“Fucking Christ, you’re so desperate for me,” he gets out through heavy breaths, his cock impaling you over and over. His cocky demeanor doesn’t waver, hands squeezing your ass, smirking when you whine at him.

Filthy noises fill the living room, wet smacks as your dripping pussy sucks Eddie back in for more more more. He glances down to where your bodies join, his dick shiny with your juices. Eyelashes flutter as he looks back up at you, pulling your face to his to kiss you harder. His greedy tongue roams your mouth, his lips demanding in the way they move with yours.

Eddie can tell you’re getting close by the way your eyes roll back into your skull, the way your pussy keeps squeezing him so tight. Your brows knit together as you focus on how good he feels, eyes pinching shut.

“Nuh-uh. Look at me, sweet girl,” Eddie instructs, fucking you faster. “Look at me when I’m making you feel so good.”

Your eyes open, big and glassy as they plead with him. You’re so ready to snap, your body overwhelmed with pleasure as Eddie abuses your cunt. Your fingers tangle in his hair - something you’d missed while he’d had the mask on - and tug, drawing a throaty groan from him. His balls are slapping against the skin of your ass with each rough thrust, fingers digging so hard into flesh you’re sure you’ll be sore tomorrow.

Those big brown eyes of his are incredibly dark, his lips parted as he watches you slowly unravel right before his eyes. You feel yourself about to tip over the edge, about to let go, and he can see it on your face.

“Gonna cum for me, dirty girl? Little slut’s gonna cum all over my fucking cock?” he taunts you, every single word sending bolts of electricity right to your core.

“Gonna cum so fucking hard, Eddie, oh my god,” you say breathlessly, eyes fluttering to a close as you reach your peak.

You’re delirious as you cum, your walls squeezing Eddie so fucking tight. Strings of curse words are falling from his lips as he chases his own release, drawing it closer and closer as you completely soak him. Movements get sloppy, not aided by the slippery mess you’ve created, and Eddie’s breaths grow staggered.

His cock pounds into you one, two, three more times before his hips stutter, hot ropes of cum filling you. You can just barely feel the way he twitches inside of you, every last drop of his release pouring out. Both of you settle finally, catching your breath as you come down from your highs. Eddie sets you down, your feet hitting the ground once more. Your legs feel like rubber, like you might crumple to the floor if it weren’t for the fact that he’s holding your waist and pulling you in to him.

You look down at the floor, the crumpled mask staring up at you, mouth gaping in a perpetual scream. You’re dizzy with realization of what's just happened.

“You’re fucking unreal,” he says finally, tilting your chin up so your eyes will meet his. “Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know…” you admit, cheeks growing hot. “Something about that damn mask,” you smirk at him, getting a waggle of his eyebrows in response.

“I can go to the store right now and get more… who do you want next? Michael Myers? Jason?” Eddie jokes, smiling when you scoff at him.

“Just make sure to keep the Ghostface one around, okay?” your shy request has him grinning, his tongue running over his teeth.

“Oh, you’ll be seeing more of him for sure.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #ghostface!eddie munson #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #divider by @cafekitsune

4K notes · View notes

sadembryhours · 9 months

Text

softened touch ♡ mattheo riddle

synopsis ; [name] takes a nap in the slytherin common room and mattheo keeps them company gender neutral reader, no content warnings

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

naps in the slytherin common room were routine for you. having a free period in the middle of the afternoon, right after lunch? you felt like you were blessed by some kind of angel.

pansy snickers to herself as you let out a little snore, shoving astoria lightly up the stairs. “leave ‘em be,” she says, “nothing can wake [name] now.”

blaise pauses as you turn over, eyes drifting up from his book and watching until you settle again. he’d already placed your notes where they needed to be ; no longer scattered on the table and floor. you’d been pushing yourself, he frowns, studying instead of taking care of yourself.

it’s mattheo who dares to linger the longest. he waves draco and theo away, urging them to leave without him. he was going to wake you — truly, he was — but you looked so peaceful when you weren’t scowling and glaring.

a velvet, evergreen blanket is folded over your body as you twist once more. another snort leaves your lips — mattheo grins at the sound. he crouches in front of your sleeping form before he can talk himself out of it.

delicately, mattheo brushes his pointer finger just under your eye, tracing the curve of your cheeks until he ends at the corner of your lips. your fingers tighten around the blanket as you whine, stretching lightly.

the panic doesn’t catch up to him until your eyes are gazing into his own. mattheo goes to speak but is silenced by your touch. you grab his hand — the one he’d been using to trace shapes into your cheek with — and cup your cheek with his palm.

mattheo’s breath catches in his chest as you smile.

“didn’t mean to wake you,” his whisper bounces around the room. your eyes flutter closed once more before you fight to keep them open. mattheo smiles, “go back to sleep.”

you hum, turning to place a barely-there kiss to the palm of his hand. settling again, your grip on mattheo’s hand tightens. sleepy eyes open to glare his way as he tries to leave.

mattheo grins again, wider this time as he laughs a little. “okay, i won’t leave. let me get more comfortable though, hm?”

his back is leaning against the couch you rest on, your knees pressing into the top of his shoulders. his left hand is slung behind him, intertwined with your own as you snore once again. mattheo is going over his potions essay as the common room slowly bursts to life.

you’re not woken up again until dinner. no one would come near you with a riddle glaring the way he was ; daring them to try and wake you.

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle imagines #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheoxreader #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter scenarios

3K notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 4 months

Text

Simple Math / Part Six

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4k words - AO3 Warnings - tags: 18+ MDNI. No smut but this fic contains mature themes. Nurse reader, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies. Reference to past domestic violence. Angst. Alcohol. Crying, anxiety, panic. Johnny in distress. Johnny is still a menace. Soft dads. POV switches. Note: Safe sleep for infants always. I do not endorse sleeping with your baby in your bed. This is a fic not real life. Simon does some digging.

“Shhh now, ye’re alright.”

Johnny coos, Penny cradled up to his chest. He’s not wearing a shirt, eyes still half sealed shut with sleep, and she squalls in his arms, screaming as loud as her little lungs will allow. “What is it, mah wee lamb? Are ye hungry? Do ye need a change?” He checks her nappy, efficiently looking for a mess or something to clean up and is nearly disappointed when he finds her still dry. If it’s not her nappy, then maybe her stomach? Could she be hungry again? He thumbs through the notes on his phone to find Simon’s last entry: 23:20 – 50 ML.

That was only an hour ago.

He frowns, walking in a circle, bouncing her gently, trying to settle her back to sleep. She’s so tiny, and still has grown so much in just the short time since they brought her home. It amazes him. It terrifies him.

“What is it, sweet bairn? What’s got ye all upset?” He touches his lips to softest skin he’s ever felt, his thumb trying to swipe away the tracks of tears on her cheeks. “Please dinnae cry. I-“

“You okay?” Simon clears his throat behind him, and Johnny tenses.

“We’re fine. Ye’re supposed to be sleepin’.”

“Heard the two of you in here fussing. Thought I could help.” Simon’s trying to be supportive, trying to be a good partner, Johnny knows, but all he can feel is irritation, a defensive reaction making his hackles rise.

It’s not fair. He’s so good at it. He’s a natural. And Johnny… Johnny feels like he’s failing his own kid, when she’s not even a month old yet.

“I dinnae need-“

“Hey.” Simon touches his elbow, and then his chin, tilting his face upwards. “I know you don’t, love. You’re doing a great job. It’s not your fault she’s having a rough go.” He soothes him, fingers kneading into the top of his spine, squeezing the nape of his neck and pulling him into his arms. Penny is still crying, but softer now, a low-pitched tone of misery that makes his heart ache, and he feels so overwhelmed, so helpless, staring down at her as she tries desperately to tell him what's wrong, the only way she knows how. He rests his cheek against Simon’s chest, melting into his hold, letting him wrap his arms all way around his waist.

“She hates me.” Johnny grumbles, and Simon presses his mouth to Johnny’s temple in short, succinct kisses.

“She doesn’t. She’s brand new. She can’t hate anything, yet, and certainly not her Da.” He strokes her cheek. “Let’s bring her to bed, see if we can get her down and then one of us can put her back in the crib, alright?” Johnny sighs.

“Alright.”

“What’re you doing after this?”

“Going to bed?” What else would you be doing?

“I’m thinking about going to Jackie’s for a drink… wanna come?” Nia untucks her scrubs, pulling the top up over her head.

“Jackie’s, huh?” You chew on your lip. You shouldn’t. You really, really shouldn’t. But… Jackie’s is a dive. It’s dark, and dingy, with black walls, black floors, no window in sight. And... it’s a hospital haunt.

“It’s my birthday.” She whispers, casting a glance around the rest of the room. “I’m not… it’s not a thing, I just want to go, have a few to celebrate.” You take a deep breath. “Please?” She tacks on at the end, and your shoulders dip down in defeat.

“Okay. One. And then I gotta go.”

“Yes!” She cheers, excitement smashing her palms together.

Nothing like a seven am beer.

Jackie’s is a distinct place. It’s one of the only twenty-four-hour liquor licenses left in the city, or so you’ve been told, and has been frequented by hospital staff for decades. It’s dart boards and dark wood floors, cheap beer and rail vodka, a worn to hell pool table, and an old, disabled juke box that someone broke intentionally, years ago. It’s an institution, and reminds you of some old places you used to frequent, when you weren’t… who you are now. Years ago, before, you used to love a good dive bar. Didn’t mind the way the floor stuck to your feet, and you considered yourself nearly tactical at darts. It was a source of pride, the accuracy, the rate at which you could make a bullseye, even when you were a few sheets to the wind.

“Coulda been a surgeon.” You’d tease, a smirk growing across your boyfriend’s face.

“If you were a surgeon, sugar, who’d be at home waitin’ for me after work?” He’d push back, coating the warning in an adoration, giving whoever was undoubtedly watching a slick smile before snaking an arm around your waist and tugging you close. “You don’t need to be surgeon. You don’t even need to work. You have me.”

You thought you knew, then. Knew how to handle it, how to navigate the ever-present, ever-growing threat… but you were wrong.

You were so, so wrong.

“So, heard there’s a spot opening up on days.” Nia chucks her purse at the bar top, climbing onto the stool next to you. “You’ve got the seniority… you givin’ it any thought?” The bartender walks by with a hello, and you nod at him.

“Old Speck please. And no, I like nights.” She raises an eyebrow.

“Didn’t know Americans liked Old Speck.”

“We have it in the states. I didn’t live under a rock.” You quip, and she laughs before ordering her own poison, a choice that makes your own eyebrows shoot up in question. “Vodka on the rocks?”

“I’m a straight to the point kind of girl.” She explains. “So, no days?”

“No days. You?”

“I might. Night shift is kicking my ass.” She complains. “Don’t even know what day it is half the time. My rhythm is off.”

“You need like, at least six months to fully adjust.” You put a note down in exchange for your beer, and then the bartender scuttles away, distracted by some insistent woman at the other end of the bar.

“Six months?!” You’re about to launch into your spiel about how it’s not that bad when your phone vibrates in your pocket.

>Make it home from work alright?

>It’s Johnny, by the way :)

The two texts are the start of a new group chat with your number, Johnny’s number and the number you put in your contacts just yesterday… Simon’s. Your head jerks back on instinct, confused.

“You okay?” Nia asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, fine just…uh-“ She peeks over your arm, and giggles.

“Is that your patient? Two sixty-eight?”

“What?”

“Your patient. The military hottie. The one that’s always lookin’ at your bum.” Your face burns, and she tsks. “Ah, don’t be embarrassed. He’s smokin’. Wish he looked at me the way he looks at you.” You’re surprised at the flare of irritation that starts up in your stomach at her, a hot streak of jealously simmering there, burning away indignantly. “Aren’t they… I mean… isn’t the scary mask guy his partner?” He’s not scary, you scowl inwardly. He’s just… protective. The butterflies in your stomach startle, and you drift back to last night, in the stairwell, in the car.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart.”

“If you ever need anything, Johnny and I… we’re here.”

Nia says your name, dragging you back to earth, and you shrug. “Yes… they… they’re together. It’s just been hard on them, so I think there’s a bit of an attachment growing there. You know, it’s not unusual.” She bites her lip, mouth pushing up into a smile.

“They’re quite fit. Wouldn’t mind if they formed an attachment to me.” She pauses, delicately sucking her gasoline on ice up through a straw. “Gonna text him back?”

“Nia.” You hiss, and she barks out a laugh.

“Oh, come on, just a bit of fun. I don’t mean anything by it.”

“It’s not appropriate.” You remind her, and she rolls her eyes.

“You’re such a stick in the mud sometimes. Remember when Marshall was fucking his brain cancer girl? Now that, was not appropriate.” You do remember- Marshall’s sudden absence, the whispering, the HR investigation that spanned weeks, interviews with everyone on the floor.

Your beer goes sour in your stomach.

“I gotta get home.” You wrap an arm around her shoulder with a squeeze and a whisper. “Happy Birthday.” You feel bad for abandoning her, and maybe in another life you might even consider her a friend, but you’re already too exposed here as it is, and staying any longer would be too indulgent- not to mention, incredibly stupid.

You pass another nurse on the way out and him know that Nia’s at the bar, alleviating your guilt just a tad before you hike up your hood and make a beeline for the train.

By the time you get back to your hotel room, get showered, and collapse on top of the far too big bed, it’s nearly been an hour. You plug your phone in, unlocking the screen to flick on do not disturb, and realize the group message is still open, cursor blinking, waiting for your response.

It’s fine. You can tell you got home okay, that’s not crossing any lines.

>Yeah, just got settled for bed. See you later!

A text from Simon chimes back within a minute, and you squint at it, one eye open.

>Get some rest.

The floor is dead silent at the beginning of your shift.

Nothing beeps or whines or cries, no noise echoes around the corner to where you’re scrolling through Johnny’s chart, getting caught up on his day, triple checking that his levels and vitals are all within normal range. He passed his follow up for the liver procedure with flying colors, and the relief you feel is not unexpected, the weight of worry lifting free from your shoulders without another thought.

He’s fine, he’s better than fine, he’s… too healthy for the ICU.

Reality hits you like a truck, and you stop short, sneakers squeaking along the floor.

He won’t be your patient anymore.

He won’t… be your patient anymore.

The thought twists you into a mess of complicated emotions. A snarled, tangled viper's nest of unknowns, uncertainties, things you're desperately trying to tuck back behind your heart, hide them away so no one, not even yourself, can see them.

This is a good thing. This is what you want. Stable patients, on their way to recovery.

So, you’ll miss them, that’s okay. There’s a little bit attachment, that’s alright.

This is the best case scenario. You’re making a mess of things. You’re getting too involved with your patient and his family. You let Simon drive you home, for fucks sake.

They’re getting confused, because you’re the caretaker. It happens all the time. As soon as Johnny steps down, they’ll forget all about you.

You’re risking too much. You’re risking their safety, their child’s safety, your own.

It’s for the best.

You put your best work smile on when you approach his room, pulling as much air into your lungs as you can manage.

Focus on your job. Your patient. You’re a professional.

Johnny is alone. No Simon, no visitors, nobody keeping him company. It’s a strange sight, and he looks almost uncomfortable, creased brow lowered down over his eyes. That’s… odd. Worse, there’s a heaviness in his gaze, sadness pulling his mouth downwards, usual playful demeanor nowhere in sight. Even sad, he’s a marvel, and every day, he gets stronger, he gets healthier, he gets closer to leaving this room, amazing you with his tenacity, his will.

“Hey, you on your own tonight?” You casually knock on the door frame, and then pull it shut behind you, cocking your head.

“Aye.” He’s sullen, his despair tugging you closer to the bed, an urge to try to comfort him too strong to deny.

“How are you feeling?” You try the subtle question, hoping he'll be forthcoming, and you keep yourself composed as you wait for his answer.

“’m alright.” You tab through his chart, glancing it over once more, if only to assuage your own anxieties, and then tap into his vitals. Everything looks good, last labs look great… so what’s going on?

“Just alright?” His fingers flex in the blanket, tanned skin against white linen, picking at fibers and threads, unable to hold himself still. He looks like he’s going to burst open at the seams, explode inside this room, a ticking time bomb, just waiting for the end of the countdown.

A tear tracks down his cheek. “Johnny?” You step closer, close enough so your fingers graze his, trying to delicately let him know, you’re here. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. What’s going on?” The monitor beeps steadily in the silence, his chest depresses with a gust of air.

“It’s… it’s nothin’ bun. I’m jus’… I’m havin’ a bad day.”

“Want to talk about it? I hear I’m a pretty good listener.” You encourage, and his face twists.

“No, I- Ach. Aye, alright.” He shifts in the bed, and you hover in case he needs help, but he waves you away. “It’s… bein’ in here. I want to be wi’ my family. Penny turned one, before I left for this assignment. Was only supposed to be two weeks tops, but then it turned into a month, then two. And now, I’m home… but ’m not really home, and I-“ His voice cracks, raw thread of agonized emotion separating his words, and he swallows it, forcing it back. “I’m blown to bits and cannae even see my own daughter. I’m missin’ out on everything.” Oh, Johnny. Your heart is heavy, and it hurts for him, bleeds as he wipes his face.

“You’re not blown to bits, just a little banged up.” You give him a soft smile, and when he shakes his head, your fingers find his on instinct. You don’t even stop to second guess yourself, fully sinking into the contact with a gentle squeeze. “Hey, look at me.” His lashes are wet, sticky with tears, and he sniffles. “You’re making great progress, Johnny, going to be out of here in no time. You won’t even be in the ICU much longer, and then once you’re downstairs, Penny will be able to come visit all the time. After that, it won’t be too much longer until you’re back home with them.” He nods, and you stroke your thumb across his knuckles.

“Ye think so?”

“You’re the toughest patient I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a fair amount, you know. Traumatic injury recovery takes time, it takes patience, but you’re doing a great job of it so far. You just have to take it one day at a time. Before you know it, you’ll be at home on your own couch, bossin’ Simon around all day instead of me.” He laughs at that, a throaty chuckle capable of spreading heady warmth through your veins, and then gives you one of those stupidly stunning smiles.

“Shouldnae be cryin’ in front of ye.”

“You can cry in front of me any time you want. That’s what I’m here for. Besides, it’s not the first time.” You tease and he rolls his eyes.

“Doesnae count. I was high.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” The untouched dinner tray on his side table catches your eye, and chilling worry reappears in the back of your mind. “You didn’t eat?”

“Didnae have an appetite until ye showed up, pretty girl.” Okay. You can remedy this easily, if he's interested in eating. Lack of appetite is alarming, but if you can get him to eat now...

“You hungry? I haven’t eaten yet. Want me to grab you something?” He brightens, indulging in a spectacular smile, and you take it as a yes with a small laugh. “Alright. Let me run down to the café, yeah?”

“What’s that saying, about how I hate to see ye go, but love to watch ye leav-“

“Okay!” you practically shout, cutting him off, fire racing across your skin, and he snickers, palm pressing against his heart like he’s wounded. “I’ll be right back.” You give him a serious look, and and he rubs his palm through his hair, mirth sparkling in his eyes. Holy hell. How is he so attractive? And how is it still so blinding, every time?

You get two of the only option left this late in the evening, chicken soup and some sourdough, balancing the bowls carefully on their trays until you’re placing them down in the room, swinging the little table over Johnny’s lap and settling in beside him, perched on Simon’s recliner. The soup is warm, spiced with herbs and thick with noodles, and you're pleased that it's better than you were expecting, happy that Johnny seems to like it as well.

"Wanted to take ye out properly for our first date, but this will have ta’ do. Simon’s gon’ be so bloody jealous.” He masterfully hums between your bites, and your eyes go wide, trying and failing to swallow your soup instead of choking on it.

“Johnny, we… this… I- this isn’t a date!” you squeak.

“Why not?” He asks, inflection innocent, and your brain rattles around inside your skull, splitting down the middle, falling apart in bewilderment. Why not? What does he mean?

“You… you have a partner. Simon? You know, your family that we were literally just talking about?” He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you with this look on his face, one you can’t interpret. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What did Simon tell ye, the other night. When he took ye home?”

“What? He… I don’t remember.” Does he know that Simon gave you his phone number?

Of course, he knows, he started that group text.

Does Simon know what Johnny said, about you coming into their lives? About-

“Didnae he tell ye, we’re here for ye?”

“Y-yeah.”

“We, bunny? We.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” He sighs. What is he trying to say? What is going on?

“We like ye. Like I said, we think ye’re really special. Simon, and I. Together, bun.”

“Wh-what?” Puzzle pieces snap together and then break apart, like a landscape jigsaw that you spent days completing once before it was promptly ruined. Does he... does he mean... Oh. Oh no. Oh no no no. You have to squash this. Now. Just explain it, he’ll get it. He’s smart. “No… no, Johnny it’s just… it’s this thing, that happens. Patients get attached to their nurses or doctors sometimes, it’s normal. You d-don’t like me, I promise. There’s nothing even to like.” He blinks, jaw grinding under stubble. If Simon’s stare feels like he’s reading your mind, then Johnny’s is like being pinned down in one place, unable to move. You’re paralyzed, and powerless, lost in the icy blue sea of his eyes, drowning with a hand sticking out above the crest of the surf, reaching for him.

“Why would ye say that? That there’s nothin’ about ye to like? Nothin’ could be farther from the truth.”

“I don’t… there’s not. It’s… I’m your nurse, Johnny. That’s all.” Sweat glosses the small of your back, slicking upwards to cover your spine, and your heart hammers, it beats, beats, beats- so loudly you’re sure the pulse point in your wrist is visible. “Johnny.” His name shakes from your lips, and he relaxes, gentle concern replacing the relentless intensity in his gaze.

“Shhh, hey. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didnae mean to upset ye.” You're still frozen, a statue, and he reaches for you, trying to grab onto your hand. The heat of his skin breaks you from the spell, and you force a robotic, bedside smile onto your face, scooping up your half empty bowl.

"It's okay." You need to get out of this room. Now. The walls feel too close, Johnny feels too close, everything is compounding on top of you, threatening to derail your entire life, ruin your plan. They cannot like you. They cannot care about you. They cannot show interest in you. You can’t let this happen. “I’ve gotta check on some other patients, okay? I’ll swing back your way in a bit.” You promise him, guilt eating you alive about running away, and when he gives you a sad smile, you almost lose your resolve.

“Alright, pretty girl. I’ll see ye later, then.” He murmurs, and you try not to trip over feet during your hasty exit.

Fuck. You’re so fucked.

Simon and Johnny’s house is finally silent.

Penny is down, safely tucked into dream world, her grainy grey-scale image flickering on the video monitor at Simon as he pours two fingers worth of bourbon into a glass.

Poor baby girl. His stomach twists. She put up such a fight tonight, hollering at the top of her lungs, standing up in her crib, working herself into an absolute state. He hates leaving her alone to cry, and on nights like this one, the only way she’ll close her eyes is if she’s being held, snuggled in Johnny's arms, or against Simon's chest.

He’s a sucker, he knows. Doomed from the day she was born, but he can’t help it. Neither of them can. She’s their baby.

So, he doesn’t blame her for being so out of sorts. She always sleeps better when her Da is home. They both do.

His phone vibrates with a text, a short message from Johnny, and he scrolls through it, settling on the couch with his laptop, unopened email from Laswell blinking impatiently.

>She’s jumpy. Tired. Looks like she hasn’t gotten any sleep. Simon frowns.

> She manage to find a pair of panties for work today?

>Unfortunately. He can practically see the pout on Johnny’s lips, can hear the way he probably huffed and puffed when you first came into the room this evening, your hips swishing side to side, pretty smile on your face for him.

>I think I made her upset. Simon pinches the bridge of his nose. Johnny, love. Why can’t you listen? He takes a deep breath, trying to relax the worry that’s creeping up the back of his neck.

Disagreements aren’t for text messages. They’ve learned that the hard way.

>Take it easy for the rest of the night, then. She’s skittish. He shoots off the recommendation, and then pulls his laptop across his knee, clicking open the email from Kate.

Simon, Your girl is a ghost. This kind of wipe work is professional level… are you sure she’s a nurse? I’ve attached everything I could find, but it’s pretty scarce. The name you provided pulled a copy of her NHS nursing license, her taxes, an award she won at work last year, and a COVID vaccination record. No birth certificate, state identification, or public records of any kind, even after a global hand search. Nothing that even proves she exists or is an American except a sealed record from two years ago in the states. It’s not accessible, even for me, which means it could be WITSEC, or a court ordered name change in relation to a domestic violence case. There are 18 states that seal those records to protect the victim, so she could be from anywhere. My gut says it’s probably the latter, which is why she doesn’t exist prior to. You’ll notice on the vaccine record, she marked ‘unhoused’, and I couldn’t find any lease/rental agreements, sale records, or mortgages in her name. I wish I had more for you, but she really is a bit of a puzzle. I’ll keep digging. -K.L.

There’s an unsettling rattle going off in the front of Simon’s skull. It’s a siren, a smattering of warning bells, and he swallows the rest of the bourbon in one go, embracing the burn that slides down the back of his throat.

Who are you, little bunny? And who are you running from?

#peaches writes #simple math #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #ghost x reader x soap #soap x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader x ghost

1K notes · View notes

pippin-katz · 9 months

Text

Alex & Being Bisexual 🩷💜💙

I've seen a lot of people complaining about Alex not having as big of a crisis over being bisexual as he did in the books, but I feel like a lot of people are overlooking the development he does go through.

Henry is the first guy he has felt attracted to that he actually knew prior to getting physically involved.

Alex & Miguel

Nora's asks specifically about men Alex has "been with", not men he's liked or interested him. She means physically, and he knows that too. Alex doesn't even bother with giving any context or details for his high school hook up. His description of his hook up with Miguel is straightforward, direct, and factual, because he doesn't have an emotional attachment to that moment or Miguel.

This, and his interactions with Miguel, gives the impression that they don't really know each other that well. It seems like they met during the campaign, made out in a hot tub, and now occasionally they talk at school.

They don't seem like friends, rather acquaintances after a one night stand, which is pretty much what they did. Their first conversation is mostly Miguel trying to get quotes for his journal and flirting with him rather than any kind of real discussion.

Gifs courtesy of @phakphumm from this post

Alex isn't stupid; he knows Miguel is flirting with him, however he chooses not to acknowledge it. He doesn't discourage him, but he does not encourage him either.

He avoids saying anything about it at all. His expressions after the eyelashes comment show him at a bit of a loss for how to respond. Alex seems flattered by the compliment, but doesn't seem to have any real desire to hook up again.

Everything Miguel says, he says in an attempt to get something out of him, whether it be flirting to hook up and/or get quotes for his journal.

Same thing at the state dinner; Alex isn't fully paying attention cause he's busy staring at Henry, but Miguel opens with compliments, specifically about his memo, which is definitely an attempt to flatter him. Then he starts asking direct questions about the campaign, Alex doesn't answer, and he walks away. They're not really friends.

New Territory

It's one thing to admit being somewhat attracted to the same sex, under limited, physical circumstances. Lots of people often joke about "being straight/gay but I would sleep with this person".

It's another thing to develop an attraction to a person you know of the same sex when you've never had those feelings before. It's not just physical anymore, because you know and like this person outside of that context, and the physical intimacy gains a new meaning.

Alex VS Feelings

This is a new feeling for Alex. This man practically makes out with two women he barely knows without any qualms, but when he's waiting to see Henry? His close friend who he knows and plans to kiss?

He is nervous; not just a little nervous either:

Alex is a pretty confident guy, able to host massive parties and dance without any reservations about it, unlike Henry who awkwardly bounces. He's a fantastic public speaker. Excluding the wedding, which were extreme circumstances, he's able to navigate a room comfortably. We know from the closet conversation that he used to get scared, but it's clear based on his campaign efforts, the DNC speech, and so on that he's grown into his role and can play it well.

Here, Alex can't sit still. He doesn't know how to stand. He's shifting around, almost pacing. He visibly tries to muster up the confidence we know he has, but can't. He's trying to pose, or look confident, and almost gets there, but the second the door opens, he panics and just stands there.

"But that's just cause he really likes Henry!"

Yes, exactly; Henry is his first step towards fully realizing his identity.

Once the tension is broken, Alex is confident again and doesn't hesitate anymore. He may not be completely sure of his identity, but he is completely sure that he wants Henry. Those thoughts take priority when he kisses him. He knows physical intimacy. He knows how to kiss with someone regardless of who they are. He has been with a couple men, and is a man himself, so he knows what feels good. His confidence stays intact during their exchange when they get to his bedroom.

There are very small moments where you can see his nerves poke through.

When Henry pushes Alex over the couch, not only is it surprising to him, it also disconnects them for a few seconds. He has a chance to look at Henry while they're not touching or kissing, no direct distraction.

When Henry starts undoing his pants, he looks up, inhales quickly, blinks a couple times, and swallows; it's almost like he's thinking "okay this is actually happening now". Again, no direct distraction, as Henry isn't doing anything yet, and Alex isn't touching or kissing him.

Both moments go by fast though because he's focused on what he knows, the physical part. He knows he wants Henry physically, so he can focus on that, and deal with the other feelings later.

Alex is aware that he has feelings toward Henry that are new to him. He doesn't know what they mean, and it's nothing even close to what he feels later in Paris and at the lake house, but they're starting to form. He's the one who suggests that he and Henry see each other again, and you would have to be blind not to see the brief disappointment on his face when Henry says it has to be very casual. It's also important to note that this is right after Alex comes out.

The Bisexual Label

While his feelings make Alex nervous, Henry is still his friend and he feels comfortable around him. He's the first person he comes out to; he was unable to say anything definitive about his identity during his conversation with Nora, despite her best efforts to help him.

Henry is the first person he tells and he distinctly shows uncertainty when he first uses the bisexual label:

He's serious about it; not overly serious, but he's coming out very formally. He's nervous, even though he's telling Henry, who he literally hooked up with five minutes ago. Henry already knows he's attracted to men. Alex is not nervous about that; it is clearly the label that he's uncertain about.

Confidence

A lot of people get taken by surprise when they start questioning their identity because they had simply never thought about it before.

The uncertainty Alex has about his identity was initiated by his feelings for Henry. Alex clearly never considered the idea of being in an actual relationship with a man. Without Henry, he may have never figured out that he was fully bisexual. He may have continued fooling around occasionally with guys, never giving serious thought to the other possibilities, unless/until he met someone like Henry who basically smacks him in the face with a mirror.

Being with Henry makes him truly think about himself, and come to the conclusion that he's bisexual. Seeing/dating Henry also makes him more comfortable and confident in his identity over time.

While Alex hadn't acknowledged Miguel's advances before, after he sleeps with Henry, he actively calls him out on it and refuses without hesitation as soon as Miguel puts the suggestion out there. Miguel even says "Well, I don't anymore", confirming that had been his intention in earlier scenes.

He had been trying to hook up with him again, and because Alex never addressed it, Miguel thought that it was possible. Alex may not have addressed his comments, but Miguel could see for himself that they had a positive reaction; he felt flattered and bashful. That response coupled with the fact that Alex did not outright tell him to stop was enough reason for Miguel to think it could happen again.

Also, Alex told Nora that he got the feeling Miguel wanted to hook up again, but that he was a journalist, which does not say he wouldn't be down. He never says he wouldn't want to; instead he expresses his apprehension to the idea due to his job. So for all intents and purposes, before Henry came along, Miguel was correct to think it was a possibility.

This seems to be the first time Alex has ever actually addressed their tension, and it occurs after he starts seeing Henry and using the bisexual label.

Owning The Bi Label

Then Zahra finds him and Henry the next morning. She is kind enough not to tell Ellen immediately, because even if she won't admit it, she does care about Alex a lot and recognizes the importance of something like this. However, she makes it very clear that he needs to tell her ASAP or she will.

When he comes out to his mom, he is significantly more sure of himself when he uses the bisexual label. He laughs and uses the shorten term "bi" which is a small detail but indicates his confidence, compared to how he cautiously said "bisexual" when coming out to Henry. He's not at all nervous to use the term, and says it grinning.

This is also indicative of his confidence in his label because Alex doesn't lead with his sexuality. He leads with meeting someone, and clarifying that it's a man, and that it's Henry. So once they're on the couch talking, Ellen is also already aware that he is attracted to men, but this time, he's prompted about his label and he shows zero nerves about using the term "bi".

Queer Identity

By the end of the movie, Alex is able to publicly refer to himself as having a queer identity. Obviously, he was outed against his will, but he is still able to stand up and acknowledge who he is without nerves about it. He has been with Henry for a year, and he knows who he is, and he’s not ashamed of it. As he says, the leaks were an issue of privacy, not shame. Alex is not afraid to say who he is, and he is queer, he is bisexual. He’s a different person than he was before Henry. He’s learned about himself because of him.

Does he have a complete, computer-error-noise breakdown over it? No, he doesn’t, but he does not immediately start waving a bi flag around either.

Okay, that’s all! This took so freaking long to put together, but I hope it helps people understand how his bisexuality is addressed in the movie. Just because he has a different journey than he did in the book does not mean he did not have a journey at all, and I hope this allows people to see it more clearly! Thank you for reading!

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb movie #rwrb thoughts #bisexuality #alex claremont diaz #taylor zakhar perez #miguel ramos #henry hanover stuart fox #ellen claremont #firstprince

2K notes · View notes

hanafubukki · 6 months

Text

Summary: In which, a potion accident leads to Lilia having long hair again.

You coughed and waved your hand, trying to dispel the fumes in the area.

You knew allowing Grim and Lilia to partner up was a bad idea.

Whatever the two had poured into the cauldron caused an explosion of colorful gases, you could hear Silver call out to his father in panic.

“Khee hee~ It’s been a while since I’ve been like this.”

Malleus cleared the area with his magic, and you were faced with the nonchalant laughing fae.

Lilia was safe and sound with no visible wounds, the only difference was his hair. Whereas he had short hair before, now he had long hair, more than he ever had in his long life.

Oh no.

This was bad for you.

It turns out cutting said hair would not be possible. The potion ended up giving Lilia indestructible hair no magic or blade could cut.

Professor Crewel had simply stated the easiest option was to wait until the potion wore out.

Whenever that was.

In the meantime, you watched as Silver’s bird friends and Malleus’ magic worked together to braid said hair.

It reminded you of a certain movie back in your world, ironically enough.

Sebek poked at you, “Human! What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all!”

Sebek seemed to realize something to your mortification, “Oh! Is it because-”

You slammed your hands over his mouth, “Don’t finish that sentence!”

You and Silver watch as Lilia uses his hair to swing side to side across the room.

His laughter bounced off the walls.

Neither of you were surprised, but it was still an amusing sight nonetheless.

“Sebek told me about your…problem.”

You were going to kill him.

“It’s not a problem. It’s just a me thing.”

“Father would be happy if you told him.”

“He would be insufferable and you know it.”

Silver couldn’t deny that.

“Malleus!”

“Child of Man?”

You ran behind Malleus, taking cover.

“Oh come now~ I just want to talk Dear.”

“Whatever you want to ask, you can ask in front of Mal.”

Lilia pouted, his hair was still long and dragging about. You wondered how it didn’t get dirty.

But then again, you knew Silver who uses soap on his, so was this surprising?

“Lilia, why is YN hiding from you?”

“That’s what I want to know! They’ve been neglecting me~ I want my cuddles but they keep running away.”

Malleus seemed to think Lilia’s words over, and you used this opportunity to try and escape-

“Woah!”

Something wrapped around your wrists and pulled you across into Lilia’s arms.

You stared at the hair binding your hands together.

You’re kidding me-

“Bye Malleus~”

“Wait! No! Malleus-”

“It is better to express yourself rather than keep it in. It was you who taught me that, YN.”

Traitor.

Lilia burst into laughter.

Normally, you would find this cute

You know, if you weren’t tied to your chair.

Bound with layers of hair.

The irony of this didn’t escape you.

“So you ran away because you couldn’t handle how hot I was?”

“…maybe.”

You weren’t going to tell him that General Llilia, during your time in his dreams, still made you hot and bothered.

Nor would you tell him about those dreams with the General, the current Lilia in front of you, and you. Together.

Nope.

Never.

He would have a bigger head than he already does, knowing how weak you are for him.

It was bad enough that Sebek knew how much you simped for his mentor because you needed to confide in someone. Though you kept those thoughts away from him, for both your sakes.

“Khee~ Hee~ You’re so adorable, Beloved.”

Lilia leaned towards you.

“Would you say…I make you speechless?”

The dark crimson of his eyes made you fluster. A flash of an image of him in his groom outfit had you blushing more.

“That’s cheating!”

Lilia chuckled before sitting on your lap, his thighs framing yours and his arms circling your neck.

“I never said I played fair. Besides, I quite adore you like this.”

His fingers trailed up the back of your neck into your hair. His breath mingled with yours, lips barely touching.

“Bound and pretty under me, and all mine to do as I please.”

Your whimpered plea has him finally leaning in, lips pressing against yours.

The way this idea gripped me and never let go as Nessy ( @masquerade-of-misery) and I talked about how hot Lilia is with long hair.

Hope you enjoyed ☺️🫶💚

#lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia vanrouge x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x you #twst silver #sebek zigvolt #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland x you #lilia x reader #lilia x you #twst lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x you #twst imagines #twst scenarios #lilia vanrouge x mc

2K notes · View notes

perlelune · 6 months

Text

Oxytocin | Coriolanus Snow | i.

One act of kindness from a peacekeeper may be your salvation or your doom. Possibly both.

Warnings: NON-CON, Blackmail, District 8 Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Bitterness burns in your gut as you watch the yellowed pages of one of your favorite books curl and blacken amidst the weak flames of the hearth.

You want to cry. You really do. But it wasn’t the first and it won’t be the last. The winters of District 8 are infamously harsh and long.

You wouldn’t have survived it. So you stare with dry eyes and an empty chest as your childhood memorabilia turns to ash.

A wheezy cough tears through your melancholy. Panic rips through you as you get up and whirl. You dash to a small bed across the room and hunker down near your cousin.

You hold her hand, despising how tiny and feeble it feels in yours.

It wasn’t always like this. She used to drag you around the cabin, eager to play, her high-pitched laugh bouncing off its molded walls.

Tears you managed to quell before now rush to your eyes.

You cup her face. Sickness has drained the color from it.

“You’re gonna get better, I swear.”

She gives a weary smile, but it’s interrupted by another fit of wet coughs that makes her entire frail frame shake. Your stomach plummets at the sight. Even you struggle to believe the words that crossed your own lips.

Everyday your younger cousin seems worse off than the one before it. Her medicine has long since run out. So has the food. Your modest wages from working in the factory won’t come for another fortnight. And there are little to no wares left to trade in the rickety wooden cabin.

Nothing except you.

The mere thought sends a shudder through you.

Though the virtue of some lowly district 8’s guttersnipe isn’t worth much, you bet you could easily find a buyer. A warm body is as good as any after all. Besides, you haven’t missed the lascivious glares wandering your way sometimes when you hasten through the streets of the city at night.

You shake your head.

No.

While your virtue isn’t worth much in this awful world, you will hold on to it for as long as you can. Some modicum of dignity. Maybe it’s too much to ask for someone like you, too…greedy. But it’s the one thing you get in this life. Your one gift. You belong to yourself and no one else.

“Hungry…” your cousin whispers between pained exhales. The orange glow from the chimney outlines the sickly grayness of her skin and the sweat dotting her forehead.

You squeeze her hand, rubbing her fingers against yours. Maybe some of your warmth will seep into her. You can only hope.

“I know, Tilly… but there isn’t any food left anymore.”

At the mention of food, your shriveled up stomach reminds you of its unfortunate existence. Hunger twists your insides, vicious and relentless. As always.

Determination sparks inside you, tiny embers shifting into a furnace of iron hot will.

You rise to your feet.

Tilly will not die. You will not die.

You plant a soft kiss on her forehead. Her eyes flutter closed as she drifts away, her glassy gaze finding the cracks and webs scattered across the ceiling.

She seems to look at nothing at all. It worries you. Tilly’s all you have left, the rest of your family having succumbed to disease, failed uprisings or some accident at the factory.

“I promise to bring food, and something to cure your cold.”

A cold.

Another lie. For her or for you… who knows this time. Deep inside, you’re aware no common cold lasts this long or is this nasty.

But you cling to the lie. Because you need it. Because without it you have nothing.

Nothing to wake up for, nothing to go work another unending, grueling day at the textile factory, nothing to suffer another day in the hell that District 8 is.

A few minutes later, you’re at the door.

Outside, the winter winds swaddle you in their cool embrace. White clouds surround you as you unleash a deep breath. Through the thin soles of your shoes, you can feel the icy stones with each step. You slither through the narrow alleys, hood low on your brow as you ponder the plan you hatched less than an hour ago.

It’s beyond stupid. You could get thrown in jail if caught. Or worse.

But what else is there to do?

You’re past the age to sign up for tesserae, and you’d never subject your cousin to the disturbing possibility of being chosen in the next reaping just to fill your stomach.

You finally reach the grand marketplace. It’s crowded with folks, like every morning. You remain hidden by a brick wall, a strategic spot where shadows engulf you, where you can survey the place as you wish. The perfect way to begin enacting your stupid plan.

Anticipation has your fingertips twitching against the stones.

You note how easy it’d be to mingle with the crowd, how some of the merchants don’t keep a perpetual eye on their wares.

And most importantly, you note the lack of peacekeepers. You squint, seeking a glimpse of the terrifying blue uniforms. Disbelief flutters through you at the realization none of them is here.

Such a chance never presents itself…yet it’s prancing right before you today.

As your eyes land on a luscious spread of colorful fruits sitting on a stand a few feet away, your mouth waters.

How easy it would be.

When’s the last time you ate anything solid? You can hardly recall.

Slow, ginger steps drag you right before the stand. Busy chatting with a customer, the merchant doesn’t see you.

Hope blooms inside you. This is your shot. You just need to be quick, so quick he won’t even notice before you’re long gone.

Your tremulous hand creeps out of your coat. The uproarious drumming of your heart fills your ears, louder as your fingers get closer to the tantalizing skin of the fruit.

Just a few inches.

“What are you doing, little bird?”

Startled, you release a sharp breath. Long, pale fingers cinch around your wrist, causing you to drop the fruit. It hits the wet cobblestones with a soft thud, sending your hopes crashing down alongside it.

You whirl to the stranger beside you.

“You little thieving whore…”

Numb with fear and shock, the merchant’s irate curses dwindle to a faint echo.

The stranger’s towering frame forces you to lift your gaze to the sky, and you are met with eyes bluer than its expanse.

Lost in his unsettling stare, you take entirely too long to notice his uniform. The gear is unmistakable. You have threaded your fair share of the fabric over the years, sewn hundreds of uniforms just like the one before you.

A peacekeeper.

A wave of snow ripples through your back.

Your entire body turns to stone in his grip, your eyes as wide as plates.

This is exactly what you feared would happen. And now it has.

As stormy irises take you in, you see your miserable life melt in a smoldering sea of blue.

Run.

It’s the only thought in your head as you jerk your hand away from his fingers.

Your body leaps into action, adrenaline pumping through your veins. White puffs of your short breaths flow around you as you dive into the nearest dark alley, hoping to disappear through a drain hole and lose your pursuer.

But you don’t get far.

Only a few minutes into your panicked race, the hard sole of a boot connects with the back of your knee. A shriek of pain tears from your throat as you tumble to the floor.

Wincing, you lift your head.

The tall, lanky figure of the peacekeeper looms over you. Your chest seizes. He holds up the bright red fruit you tried to steal in his right hand. Sunlight limns his frame, threading silver in his white hair, making him appear almost angelic.

How deceptive when he is your doom.

If it weren't for him, you’re convinced you’d have gotten away with it.

“Hey, I think you forgot this,” he deadpans.

Your brows knit at his casual tone. You wonder if he’s toying with you.

“Please, I… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Mirth illuminates his cerulean gaze as he scoffs, “So you meant to pay?”

Unsure what to respond, you choke on your words.

“I…”

Silence expands, its oppressive weight clogging your airways.

You could lie, or try to. But he saw you, stopped you. He knows exactly what you attempted to do.

So instead of stating your case, you bolt to your feet. Ignoring the needles pricking at your knee where he kicked you, you attempt to flee again.

This time it’s barely seconds before he catches you.

He picks you up and slams you against the wall with frightening ease. Fighting him would be for naught. There is no strength left in you. Still, you try.

The pitiful attempts to claw at his bicep leave the peacekeeper unfazed.

His deathly grip on your neck doesn’t relent.

“Where do you think you’re going, birdie?”

“Please, my cousin needs me.”

He studies you and your stomach sinks at how empty his eyes are. An errant tear makes a slow descent down your cheek.

He plucks it, the soft pad of his finger tracing the salty trail.

“Stop crying. I’m not like them. You can trust me.”

“You’re a peacekeeper,” you retaliate, forehead creased in confusion. Peacekeepers exist to enact the Capitol’s will by any means necessary. Their name couldn’t be more misleading, as peace is rarely how they go about solving an issue.

The blond’s cheek flares ever-so-slightly.

To your utter shock, his hold on your neck slackens.

You gulp a wide lungful of air, rubbing your throat where he held so tight. It’s sore. You wouldn’t be surprised if it were to bruise the next day.

“My name’s Coriolanus. What’s yours?”

While he backs away, he’s still crowding your space in a way you don’t like.

Stubborn lips remaining sealed, you glare at him. He steps away from you.

“You don’t want to say?” The corner of his plump lips twists upwards. “I’ll keep calling you bird then, since you keep trying to fly away from me.”

You gasp when he suddenly tosses the crimson fruit in your hands.

“Eat.”

His steely inflection is more order than suggestion. You scowl down at the fruit. Every cell in your body longs to take a bite of it…but you don’t.

“What?” you reply dumbly.

It has to be some kind of trap. Is the apple even safe to eat? Maybe this peacekeeper is the sadistic type and he wants to watch you wither in agony for his sick pleasure.

Still, the longer you peer at the luscious, colorful flesh of the fruit, the more your stomach growls, begging you to just take a bite even if it means running headlong towards your possible death.

Coriolanus heaves out a deep sigh.

“I can tell from the way you were eying that apple earlier that it’s been a long time, right?” he guesses, all too accurately for your liking.

His gaze holds yours.

“I know what it’s like to be hungry, sweet bird…” You go statue-still as he bends over to whisper in your ear, “So hungry, you’d do anything for it to stop.”

The faint scent of roses tickles your nose. You smelt it once before, on a lavish dress you spent hours sewing meant for one of the fancy ladies at the Capitol. You recall shoving the tiniest piece of the silk in your pocket and smelling it every chance you got. But the nice scent quickly faded.

Yet that same scent, that crisp, delicate, slightly dizzying aroma…It clings to the boy in front of you.

You glower at him.

“How would you even know? You’re one of them.”

His jaw ticks as his eyes flicker.

“Eat,” he insists, this time more firmly.

Your insides wrench. You could fight him on it, again. But you have an inkling that this boy, this Coriolanus, usually gets his way.

So you bite into the apple.

The sweet juice that coats your tongue and chin afterwards is heaven. The savors explode in your mouth. You could weep. It’s been an eternity since you ate something this fresh and delicious.

But once you realize his curious stare is on you, you stop eating and hastily wipe your mouth and chin.

“See? Isn’t it better?” he inquires smugly.

You don’t tell him how good it felt, especially after so long. Days, maybe weeks. You don’t know anymore. Every day tends to blend into the other here.

Instead, heated words pour out of you.

“Why are you helping me?”

He shrugs. “Why not?”

You don’t like his cryptic demeanor. Nor his nice smell. Nor his striking eyes. Nor his sharp, handsome features.

Everything about Coriolanus seems so out of place in District 8.

After a few minutes of silence, he nods and walks away.

“See you around, sweet bird.”

A shiver travels along your spine.

You wish for the opposite, to never ever see him again. And though the words never escape the confine of your lips, it’s as if he could hear the unspoken venom sizzling the tip of your tongue.

Coriolanus smiles at you as he leaves.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #tbosbas fanfiction #ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #dark!coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosbas

1K notes · View notes

barefoothighlander · 11 months

Text

cherry

summary: ghost finds out about your side gig

simon ‘ghost’ riley x camgirl!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), smut, unprotected pinv, porn/nudes, masturbating (m+f), rough sex, choking, praise, licking?, tattoos, mention of scars, blowjob, fingering, sex on camera, biting, rank kink if you squint, ooc!ghost

a/n: I got a req for a 141 member/camgirl!reader x ghost but I can’t find it so I’m so sorry if this was ur req but it’s here now! fair warning I know very little about sex work so I hope this is mostly correct

Ghost's brain is in a fog, his eyes wide as they watch the screen, he turns his phone off in a panic, Soap had sent him a link, a simple text that would change everything about your relationship, sure he had thought about you before, you were beautiful, talented, and braver than any soldier he had met.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't pictured you, bent over with your ass in the air, waiting for him to fuck you but he kept it professional, maintaining a strictly platonic relationship with you around base.

It can't be a coincidence, the woman in the video has the same tattoo of a cherry, on her right hip, directly above her ass, it's the same tattoo that he'd seen a hundred times when you'd tugged your sweater off when you'd stretch and your shirt would ride up a little. He can't see your face, covered by a balaclava which he found ironic, but the woman bears a strikingly familiar body type to you.

He paces around his room for a minute, comparing you to the woman, before deciding to watch the video again, strictly for research purposes.

He shifts his hips in his seat as he feels his cock twitch, he's entranced by the noises that are falling from your lips, your moans going straight to his length, he watches you fuck yourself using a toy, stuffing it inside your dripping core like he so badly wanted to. He palms himself over his jeans, desperate to gain some friction against his erection, he watches your breasts bounce up and down as your slick drips down the toy, coating it in a sheen.

Without thinking he unzips his pants, groaning as he wraps his fingers around his length, biting back a moan as his thumb runs over his leaking tip. He strokes his cock in time with your movements, imagining that it was him you were moaning for, that it was his cock stretching you out, making you feel good.

A string of curses falls from his mouth as his orgasm hits him quickly, spilling onto his stomach, coating the skin in his warm spend. He drops his head back, catching his breath before looking back down, the realization of his actions hitting him as he shuts his phone off.

He blatantly avoided you at work the next day, practically running away every time he saw you, it was like a Pavlovian response, every time he saw you he saw the woman in the video, his mind flashing through the images as the blood rushed to his cock. He'd have to run to the bathroom to jerk off, needing to get rid of his erection quickly, he felt like a teenager again having to excuse himself in the middle of meetings.

During one of the team's conferences you had dropped your file, bending down to pick it up, his eyes glued to your lower back as your tattoo peaked from your shirt, squeezing his eyes shut, willing his mind to behave.

It had to be you, he was sure of it, what he didn’t know is if Soap had caught on yet, or how many others he’d sent the link to, it made him mad, he hated the thought of anyone else on the team seeing your body, he’d grown slightly possessive over you throughout the years, requesting to be paired with you on missions, always keeping a close eye when the team went to the pub in case some stranger tried it on with you.

In a strange way he was offended that you’d never told him, he thought you were close enough, he knew about your life outside of the team, where you lived and what you did with your free time, hell he knew how much you made with the 141, it didn’t make a lot of sense to him why you even needed to have some sort of side gig.

It plagued his mind for days, deciding if he should bring it up to you or not, the last thing he wanted was you to be uncomfortable with the fact that he’d seen the video, but he was curious.

He couldn’t chalk it up to simple intrigue anymore, sitting in his flat his fingers clicking on links that lead him toward your entire page, he couldn’t fight the temptation, the boxes that asked for his information staring back at him as he subscribed, the new access to your videos making his cock twitch in his jeans.

It was like he was watching an entirely different person, such a stark contrast to your personality at work, he thought he knew you but apparently not, he craved you, your touch, your body, he had to do something about it.

It took him till noon the next day to even speak to you, spending the morning awkwardly staring at you, turning away when you’d notice, he was always confident in his work, but this, it was something that felt so far away.

“What’s with you?”

Your words take him by surprise, whispered in a meeting room whilst Price spoke about assignments, concerned eyes gazing at him, he felt his throat dry, unable to ask the question he wanted to as you wait for a response.

“I’ll tell you later”

You nod with furrowed brows, receding into your chair and turning your attention to your Captain, your thoughts about Ghosts nervous state playing in your mind.

You wait for him after the meeting, watching as the room empties for a moment alone with him, you’d always been concerned for his welfare, knowing enough about his personal life to check in with him every once and a while, but he’d never been antsy, avoidant of you completely, it worried you.

“So what’s wrong, you’ve been steering clear of me for a week”

“Right, well um” He scratch’s the back of his head, his eyes drifting from yours.

“Out with it Lieutenant”

“Soap sent me a link”

“Okay?”

“Well, I’m not positive but, do you, make videos?”

“Videos? What kind of videos”

“Porn videos”

“Oh” The words ring in your ears, you’d never thought anyone you knew would find them, “Yes, I do, is that a problem?”

“No, not a problem” He waves his hands in defence, “Just unexpected”

“Why is that unexpected?”

“Just doesn’t seem like something you’d do”

“Does Soap know?”

“He knows of one video, not sure he thinks it’s you”

“Okay”

He nods, turning his eyes to yours, there’s no embarrassment behind your gaze, no shyness.

“If you don’t mind, keep this to yourself”

“Of course”

“How did you know, that it was me”

“The tattoo”

“The one above my ass”

He nods

“So you watched the video”

It’s his turn to be embarrassed, his cheeks flush under his mask, visions of your naked body flashing in his mind, forcing the blood to his groin.

“I did”

You eye him up and down, watching him fidget under your gaze, “What’d you think”

“Pardon?”

“About the video, what’d you think” Your relaxed state has his heart beating fast, you’ve been exposed entirely to him and you’re asking his opinion on your body, he can’t lie, no matter his response your friendship is changed forever.

“Good”

“Good? That’s all”

“What do you want me to say, that I watched it more than once, that every night for the past week I’ve stroked my cock thinking about you”

“Only if it’s true”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me”

“Didn’t know how you’d react”

“I never would’ve thought of you differently at work, except now you’re all I think about”

“And that’s a bad thing”

“If it didn’t give me a hard on during work it would be fine”

“During work?” You smirk a little at his words,

“I can’t help it”

“I can”

His body freezes at your response, your tone is serious,

“What are you saying”

“Meet me at my flat, 6pm” You wait a moment to gage his reaction, his body tense as he blinks at you, stopping for a moment before nodding.

It was like the rest of the day couldn’t go by fast enough, rushing through meetings and paperwork, watching the clock tick as he sat in his office, your proposition was everything he had been dreaming about, damn your friendship, the way he saw it there were two outcomes, either your sex is strictly professional and for the benefit of your friendship, or it becomes a regular thing, moving past any sort of platonic arrangement, god he hoped for the second one.

He was oddly calm now, the elephant in the room dispersed, he could talk to you like he always did, as a friend, he’d never had an issue with casual sex but more often than not his endeavours began and ended in a single night, using them as an outlet for his stress and moving on, this felt different, he knew you, he liked you, as soon as the clock hit 5 he was on a mission to get to you.

Stopping at his flat after work to shower quickly, changing into civilian clothes and tossing on his balaclava before making his way to your flat. He sat in the driveway for a few minutes, working up the courage to knock on your door before his phone buzzed.

Get out of my driveway, come in

There was no escaping now, you knew he was here, your words dragging him from his car towards your door, he didn’t even knock, you opened it standing there, eyes staring up at him as his mind froze.

“Bloody hell”

Whatever he was expecting, this was not it, your body clad in a black lacy set, sheer stocking that ended at your thighs carrying his eyes toward your sex, barely covered by your panties.

“You like it?”

He can’t form words, settling on a simple nod as you smirk, grabbing his hand and dragging him into your house, from the angle that he walks behind you he can see the rest of the set, the thin black string that connects from the front of your panties, the little bows that hold your bra together, he just wants to reach forward and untie them.

“Sit for a second”

He does as you say, resting on the couch as his eyes are glued to your form, “I have an offer, you don’t have to say yes but I need your full consent before I do it”

“Okay?”

“Would you be down to record us, for my page”

“Like, I record you?”

“More like we record us”

“You want to record us having sex?”

“Only if you’re okay with that, I wouldn’t show your face obviously, and I’d keep it completely anonymous, plus you’d get half the revenue”

“Okay” He doesn’t even think about it, honestly the idea of being able to watch himself fuck you over and over had his pants already tightening.

“You’re sure?”

“Let’s do it”

You wait a few minutes, having him sign a few papers and establishing any rules you may need, offering him an out at any time in case he was uncomfortable.

“Are you clean?”

“Clean?”

“When’s the last time you went to the clinic?”

“Oh, clean, yes I’m clean, I get checked every month”

He’s safe, responsible, a new piece of information that makes you happy, you didn’t know a lot about his sexual endeavours but this was a checkmark in your books.

“Okay, you ready?”

“Is there anything specific I should do?”

“Whatever you feel like, pretend the camera’s not even there, it’s just us”

“Okay”

“And remember, if anything’s too much or you want to stop at any point, say Delta"

"Got it"

He watches you cross the room, leaning to adjust the camera, his eyes focused on the red light that clicks on, it's pointed toward the bed. He stands still as you move back to him, positioning yourself directly in front as you stare up at him through your lashes, you rest your hands on his chest, moving your fingers toward the bottom of his shirt as they find their way underneath it, bunching the fabric as you push it up.

He keeps his stare on you as he lifts his arms, helping you to take his shirt off, his breath heavy as you press kisses on his sternum, your soft lips trailing across his chest. His hands find purchase on your waist, holding you, his breath hitching as you part your lips, flattening the muscle on his skin and licking small lines over his scars, you kneel lower, your breath ghosting over his skin as you keep your eyes on his, your tongue tracing a line down the centre of his abs as you make your way toward his hardening cock.

His hands move to hold your jaw, his chest rising with every breath as your fingers make quick work of his zipper, undoing it to reveal the outline of his length, you palm your hand over it, causing a groan to fall from his lips.

Satisfied, you tug at the waistband of his underwear, his cock springing free to slap against the skin of his lower stomach,

"Need to taste you"

he peaks an eye at the camera, the two of you clearly out of view, you were doing this just for him because you wanted to, his cock twitching as your lips near it, flattening your tongue to lick the precum from his tip, his fingers tightening in your scalp.

You hum as you swallow, the salty taste mixing with your saliva, parting your lips to allow the head of his cock in, his hips jerking as you close around him.

You work him in your mouth, using your hand for the length that couldn't fit, your spit soaking his cock as you move back and forth on his length, small moans falling from his lips every time you flick your tongue over his head. You stare up at him, nodding to the best of your ability, letting him know he can move, his grip tightens in your hair, tugging your head lightly back as he thrusts into your mouth, your hands resting on his thighs for balance as the head of his cock hits the back of your throat.

The room fills with the sounds of your gags, the corners of your eyes wet from the tears that prick them as you stare at him, god he could cum from the sight alone.

He pushes his cock deep into your throat, holding you there for a moment, your nose pressed against his pubic hair as his cock twitches in your mouth. He pulls back with a pop, allowing you a breath of air before he kneels down, his arms locking under your legs, lifting you from the floor as turning to drop you on the bed.

His thumb runs over your spit-soaked cheek, his dark eyes pinning you down as his body cages you against the bed, your legs moving to wrap around his waist before he sits back, his stare devouring you.

He teases a finger down the valley of your breasts, pulling on the fabric of your bra, his palms kneading over the flesh as you reach behind you to undo it. He grabs your wrists, pinning them to the bed above your head with one hand, using the other to reach behind you, tearing at the fabric and pulling it from your chest.

He watches as your tits fall free, your nipples peaked from the cool air of the room, his fingers pinching at them as you let out a whimper,

"So perfect"

Your arousal is pooling in your panties, your hips squirming, trying to gain any friction they could as he paws at your flesh, your hands stuck in their position, unable to touch him.

"Please"

"Please what?" His accent is thick, his voice dripping with lust as he watches you squirm under him,

"Please stop teasing, fuck me"

"How bad do you need it?" His hand moves down, cupping your clothed sex, he can feel how bad you need him, your slick soaking through your panties.

"Need you so bad"

"Good girl" His hand releases you, moving to grab your leg, flipping it over so you're on your side, he tugs your panties off, tossing them across the room as he gains view of your glistening pussy, your slick coating your thighs.

"So wet already, this all for me?"

"All for you" You wriggle your hips, begging him to touch you as you bend your knee higher, giving him a better view, his hand's paw at your ass, kneading the flesh as you groan.

He slides two fingers between your folds, collecting your slick before smearing it across his length, positioning himself between your legs and lining himself up.

He glides his head between your folds, coating himself before pushing his length in, groaning as you squeeze him. The stretch of him is like nothing else, his size burns in the best way possible as he pushes deeper, inch by inch until he bottoms out.

"Bloody hell, feel so fuckin good baby"

Your hands reach for him, and he grabs one, holding it against the bed as he leans over your frame, his cock stretching you out as he holds it still, allowing you to adjust to it. You move your hips, letting him know he's okay to move and he pulls back, thrusting in with nearly every inch as you moan.

He sets a brutal pace, the sound of skin hitting echoing in the room as your fingers squeeze his hand, his other roams your form, his fingers circling over the tattoo on your lower back, smirking to himself.

He grabs your waist, tugging you onto all fours and your chest falls against the bed, your cheek pressed into the sheets as he fucks you from behind, his thrusts forcing your body forward with every stroke.

He grabs your hips, tugging you against him in time with his thrusts, his cock driving impossibly deep inside you as your ass smacks against his lower stomach, he snakes a hand around, his fingers circling your clit causing your back to arch, allowing him even deeper, your pussy swallowing him.

"You like that baby, s'that feel good"

"Yes, fuck, more"

His fingers swipe across your clit, rough pads rubbing at the bud as the fire in your stomach ignites, the band stretching out as works you toward your orgasm.

"Cum for me love, soak my cock"

You clench down on him as you come undone, your orgasm tearing through your body leaving your vision blurry and your legs weak, his fingers working you through it as his arm holds your waist, keeping you up.

"Fuck, just like that angel, so goddamn tight"

You're at a loss for words, the feeling of him taking over your body, consuming you as you come down, your juices leaking from your cunt, soaking his cock and the sheets under you.

He pulls from you and you whimper, his hands flipping your body so your beach is against the bed, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pushes into you, his cock fills you entirely, stuffing his length into your weeping cunt as he leans over your form, his arms next to your head, pressing you against the mattress as he snaps his hips against you.

You trail kisses over his exposed skin, your nails digging into the flesh of his back as you cling to him, your heels pressed into his hips, begging for more.

"More please, need more"

His hand moves over your skin, settling on your neck as his fingers squeeze at your pulse point, your breath caught in your throat as you moan.

"You'll take what I give you"

He begins thrusting slowly, dragging his cock along your walls, your pussy clenching around him as he slowly fills you with every thrust. You squirm under him, heels digging into his flesh, urging him to go faster but he remains slow, languid strokes that force you to feel every inch of his cock inside you.

"Been dreamin' about this for too long, gonna take my time, work you open till you're a mess on my cock"

His hand moves to your clit, slowly circling the bud, keeping you on a high but refusing to let you cum, he takes pleasure in your whimpers, the way you try to move your hips under him but he's much stronger, intent on having you his way.

Your orgasm builds inside you, slowly taking over your nerves as he keeps his slow pace, your skin covered in a sheen of sweat as your body crumbles beneath him.

"Please, need to cum" You manage through strangled moans,

"You can do better than that"

You lock eyes with him, your heavy lids obscuring your vision, "Please Sir, let me cum"

"That's it"

He snaps his hips into you, forcing a yelp from your throat as his pace quickens, his fingers flicking over your bud as your second orgasm surfaces, his cock driving into you, keeping you on your high as your limbs squeeze around him, your hips twitching as he fucks you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, your mouth open as quiet moans fall from your lips, the hair on your forehead stuck in a layer of sweat as you fall apart, he doesn't let up, elongating your orgasm until your legs are trembling around him, your skin on fire from the sensation.

"Such a perfect little pussy, so good for me"

His hand releases your throat, settling on your waist to pin your lower half down, driving his cock into you using his weight, his head slamming against your cervix as your body becomes putty, melting against him.

You're a babbling mess under him, spit from your mouth pooling at the corners of your lips as he fucks you,

"You all drunk off my cock baby, c'mon you can take it"

He grabs your legs, pinning them against your stomach, your heels resting on his shoulders as your fingers grab at the sheets, your brain foggy as his cock glides into you with ease.

"That's it, take it, take it all, knew you could"

Your body moulds to his, his length stretching you out to fit perfectly like it was made for you, he leans over you, lifting his mask just slightly to reveal his lips,

"Open"

You do as he says, flattening your tongue as he spits into your mouth, it drips down the muscle, trailing to your throat before you swallow, he grunts above you, pressing his chest flat against your legs as he buries his cock into you,

"Cum in me, please, need to feel you"

The thought has his brain sparking, his abs tightening with every thrust as he nestles his head against your neck, his grunts flooding your ears, you paw at his flesh, nails dragging against the skin as you lean your head up, digging your teeth into the flesh of his shoulder, his arms wrapping around you, keeping you pressed against him.

You kiss lazily at his neck, your spit smearing on the skin as his strokes get sloppy, his muscles tensing around you,

"M'gonna fill this little pussy up, stuff you full of my cum"

All he can hear are your moans, silent pleas for him to continue,

"Gotta give me one more love" His fingers find their way to your abused clit, your body twitching as he makes contact with the nerves, your head falling back against the pillow as his thumb rubs the bud.

"One more baby, you can do it"

Your body is mush, he drops one of your legs, allowing you to dig your heel into the bed, your fingers digging into his flesh trying to ground yourself as he brings your orgasm quickly.

You sob as you cum, your pussy soaking his thighs as you gush around him, squeezing his cock as your limbs begin to feel like static.

"Fuck, just like that, so perfect"

He buries his cock in you, his cum flooding your walls as you come down from your high, your combined spend leaking from your hole as he gives a few shallow thrusts, forcing his seed deeper.

He pulls from you slowly, eyes glued to your core where his cum leaks, dripping down onto the bed, your limbs falling against the mattress as your chest rises with every breath.

He stands from his spot, crossing the room you see him click off the camera, the red light turning off before he moves away, leaning into the bathroom to grab a cloth, dampening it before moving back to you.

He carefully spreads your legs, wiping around your core to clean up the mess, avoiding your sensitive clit as he runs the cloth over the skin, tossing it aside and reaching for the glass on your side table.

He moves beside you, his arms resting around your waist, tugging you against him so you can drink, gulping down a few sips before releasing a deep breath, resting against him. His fingers trace lightly over your skin, soothing the muscles as he holds you,

"You doing alright love?"

"Perfect" You don't bother to open your eyes, just resting your head against his firm chest as your fingers hold his forearm, you can feel his heartbeat, slowly returning to normal as he sits with you.

"It's getting late, did you need anything"

"Stay"

"You want me to stay?"

You nod against him, humming quietly to yourself as he smiles lightly under his mask, "Okay"

He shifts in his spot, lowering himself down and letting you curl against him, tugging the blanket over the two of you as you nestle your head against his chest, your fingers splayed over his stomach while his arm holds your waist, keeping you close. He rests his chin against your head, listening to your breaths even out as you grow tired, your legs tangled with his as he closes his eyes.

It was one of the best sleeps he's had, laying next to you, letting your warmth consume him as he slept, he wouldn't tell you but he had woken up an hour before you did and just stayed there, his arms holding you, watching you sleep, you were so peaceful, so soft, he didn't want to leave.

The next few days at work were strangely normal, with no awkward encounters with each other, you didn't treat him differently which he liked, he'd been trying for days to think of an excuse to come over again but he couldn't come up with one good enough. A smile spread on his lips when you texted him,

Videos up, here's the link, we should do it again sometime x

That was it, his excuse, he'd be at your beck and call whenever you wanted him, he needed more. He clicked on the link, eyes glued to his phone, it was strange watching it, knowing it was him in the video, that he really was doing those things to you that he'd imaged so many times, he had so many ideas about what to do next, things to try, he'd just have to muster up the courage to ask you.

His train of thought is interrupted by another text, a link from Soap,

Check this one out LT, Lad in the videos got tattoos like you

He glances at his forearm quickly and back to the screen, shit.

#simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw x reader #ghost cod #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #mw2022 #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut

3K notes · View notes

flickering-chandelier · 6 days

Text

Will It Patch Your Broken Wings?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel is feeling insecure one night and cheats on Reader. She is absolutely devastated and wants nothing to do with him, but he is determined to show her how much he loves her.

Inspired by the love triangle in Taylor Swift’s betty/august/cardigan

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: angst, cheating, swearing

Word Count: 6.3k

Betty, I know where it all went wrong

Your favorite song was playing

From the far side of the gym

I was nowhere to be found

I hate the crowds, you know that

Plus, I saw you dance with him

Azriel tucked his wing in tighter as you led him through Rita’s, your hand in his, a bounce in your step. You loved it here: the energy, the dancing, the music.

Azriel, on the other hand, really only went along because he loved you.

The music was pounding in Azriel’s mind, overwhelming his senses. He could normally block it out and will his body to be loose enough to attempt to dance with you, but today had been a particularly long day in which he had to… secure information from some traitors.

He didn’t let his memory go past that, not when he was with you. But it had been a day. A terrible day.

You were dancing now, like you were born to do it, like you didn’t care at all who was watching. You turned to him, a bright smile lighting up your face, and he couldn’t help but soften at the sight, feeling comforted by your effortless radiance.

He would never understand why you had chosen him. He was thankful of course, but he was willing to admit the two of you sometimes seemed like an unlikely pair. You were bright and bubbly, lighting up every room -- a direct juxtaposition to his shadows, his darkness, his tendency to be stoic and silent.

Watching him stay completely still in the middle of the crowd, your face fell, and you sidled up to him, craning your neck to look him in the eyes as you got closer, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Are you okay? We can go home if you want.”

Azriel smiled faintly at you, dipping his head to give you a quick kiss. “Long day. You can dance. I’m going for a drink.”

You nodded, but still eyed him warily for a moment, gaze lingering on his swirling shadows, before turning back to the dance floor.

By the time Azriel got his drink (the strongest they had), you were fully engrossed in a song that he realized was one of your favorites. He watched as you writhed on the middle of the dance floor, swaying your hips, a bright smile on your face.

A male came up to you then, taking your hand and twirling you under his arm. You laughed brightly before moving away from him, dancing on your own once again.

Azriel couldn’t stop his heart from plummeting. That’s the kind of male she should be with, he thought. The kind that goes to a normal job and comes home without shadows or demons to chase away in his mind. The kind that can dance and twirl and laugh with you without a care in the world.

He watched as you danced and danced, occasionally dancing with a random male for a moment before moving on.

She deserves better than you. She always has.

His breath was coming faster and faster now, the music pounding in his ears, through his skull, all that heat from so many bodies closing in on him. He had to get out, had to stretch his wings, had to get out.

Azriel shoved through the crowd and burst through the doors, out into the cool night, stretching out his wings and breathing deeply. He cursed himself. He was normally better than this, better at maintaining his emotions, his panic. By the Cauldron, he was the Night Court’s spymaster and he couldn’t handle an evening in a nightclub with his lover.

Pathetic. That’s what he was.

“Are you okay?” a light, sing-songy voice broke through his rumbling thoughts.

He turned to see a very pretty High Fae woman. She was dressed a bit like Mor, he couldn’t help thinking, wearing a thin red dress that showed off all her assets, her light brown hair cascading down past her shoulders.

She gave him a look that he hadn’t seen, or at least paid attention to, from a stranger in a very long time.

He blinked. “Honestly? I don’t think so.”

Her lips slowly curved up into a sultry smile. “Anything I would be able to help you with?”

No. No, you cannot help me. I don't think anybody can.

She watched him, her eyes sparkling with mischief, before she tilted her head for him to follow.

And Mother save him, he did.

---

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets

August sipped away like a bottle of wine

'Cause you were never mine.

Your heart had been pounding, your body trembling, ever since you realized that Azriel was nowhere to be found.

Something must have happened to him. It was the only explanation. He wouldn’t just leave you without a word.

But, what could have possibly happened to the shadowsinger, in Velaris, of all places?

Your hand shook as you raised it to pound on the door of the river house.

Rhysand was the one who answered, shirtless, hair a mess. He looked very unhappy to see you.

“I need you to find Azriel,” you nearly shouted before he could scold you.

He sobered immediately, noticing your distress. “What do you mean?”

You explained to him what had happened, that he had seemed off at Rita's, that he told you he was going to get a drink, then vanished. You had assumed that he had been lingering on the outskirts of the dance floor, and didn't notice for quite some time that he had left completely.

“I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation,” he said soothingly. “Did you check your apartment?”

You nodded. He wasn't there, at the home he shared with you. “And the townhouse.”

Rhysand's violet eyes were contemplative. Hesitating.

“Can't you just…feel for him or whatever?”

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Yeah. I can.”

“Then do it!”

Rhysand's eyes went unfocused after a beat, and when they widened again in surprise, you knew he had found him.

“What is it? Is he okay?”

“He's… at a random apartment. At least it's not one that I recognize.”

Your heart lurched. “What? Why?”

Rhys shrugged, his expression darkening. “Okay. Shit. Wait here, I'll go tell Feyre what's going on and take you to him.”

Rhysand came back a moment later, now in his normal black attire, and winnowed you in front of an apartment complex not far from Rita's. You had certainly never been here before. The silence was agony as you followed Rhys up the stairs, to the door.

He glanced back at you, a question in his eyes. You shook your head and he knocked, the sound rattling around in your skull.

You heard shuffling, giggling, and then.

Then.

A woman answered the door. A beautiful woman who was wearing Azriel's shirt.

A woman who was wearing your lover’s shirt and nothing else.

Your knees nearly buckled. You tasted bile in your mouth. You were going to be sick.

She cocked her head to the side. “Yes?”

Rhysand was deathly still, his power rippling from him, darkening the doorway. You remained behind him, but you had to know. Had to know for sure.

So you peeked around Rhysand's shoulder, further into the woman's apartment.

And saw Azriel, bare chested, lying in her bed, the sheets bunched up at his waist, his wings drooping on the ground, his hand tucked under his head, staring at the ceiling, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You barely had time to spin around before you entered your stomach in the hallway.

---

The worst thing that I ever did

was what I did to you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Az?” Rhysand's voice boomed from the door the woman had just answered.

Hearing such a familiar voice in such an unfamiliar setting was initially what shocked Azriel enough that he nearly fell out of bed.

Then it hit him.

Rhysand was here.

No no no no no no--

Azriel scrambled up out of the woman's bed, frantically searching for his pants and tugging them on.

“I-”

“Don't answer that.” Rhysand spat, and it was then that Azriel realized Rhys was holding you upright as both of you lingered in the doorway.

His heart stopped working. His mind stopped working.

He said your name, but it came out more like a croak.

You were trembling in Rhysand's arms, tears sliding down your cheeks.

What had he done what had he done what had he done--

Azriel took a step forward, but you recoiled, and he knew you would've fallen to the ground if Rhysand hadn't been holding you.

You looked… afraid of him. Not just hurt, not just disgusted, but actually afraid.

He said your name again, his voice and his heart breaking, but you turned to Rhysand and said in the smallest voice he'd ever heard, “Get me away from him.”

Rhysand shot you one last withering glance before he winnowed out of sight, taking you with him.

It was silent for a moment, until the woman said, “If I'd known you were such an asshole, I never would have done this.”

Azriel sank to his knees and wept.

---

You drew stars around my scars

But now I'm bleeding.

Back at the river house, Feyre was holding you as your body continued to shake, silent tears continued to fall, while Rhysand paced back and forth, rage radiating off of him.

“Azriel?” Feyre asked, wide eyed. “Our Azriel?”

“He's certainly not mine anymore,” you sniffed, and Feyre winced, shooting you an apologetic glance, holding you a little tighter.

“I can't believe it,” Rhys said, still pacing in the spare room where they had set you up for the night. “I cannot believe him.”

There was a knock on the door of the house and you froze. You all knew who it was.

You looked at Rhys, your eyes pleading.

“I won't let him in,” he said, his expression softening as he turned to you. “I'll ward the fucking house against him if I have to,” he growled, mostly to himself, as he retreated to send him away.

You leaned further into Feyre, grateful for your friends.

For his friends, you realized. His family.

They were on your side now, but you knew where their allegiance would ultimately lie.

In losing Azriel, you would lose your family, too.

Sobs racked your body then, and Feyre held on tight, settling her cheek on the top of your head.

You thought of all the walls Azriel had broken down around your heart, all the promises he had made about love and forever. All the broken pieces of you that you had let him see, that he had helped you heal.

But it was all a lie.

You couldn't stop seeing it -- the woman, naked except for his shirt; Azriel, naked in her bed.

You wept and wept until there was absolutely nothing left of you.

---

A friend to all is a friend to none

Chase two girls, lose the one.

Azriel had come to the river house twice a day for the past three days.

Each time, Rhysand opened the door, molten hot rage in his eyes, and told him to leave, that you weren’t ready yet. Azriel couldn’t blame him.

He knew there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say to make it better. To make you better. He could try to explain what he had been feeling that night, but it wouldn’t matter, not really. It was all excuses, and he knew it.

Azriel had destroyed everything. And now he just had to watch as his world burned down.

Letting out a shuddering sigh, he knocked on Rhysand’s door, expecting to see his pissed off brother again, but it was Feyre who appeared.

He had never seen his High Lady look so disappointed. He hated that it was directed at him.

“How could you do it?” she said, crossing her arms, leaning against the doorway.

Azriel felt tears prickling his eyes, and willed them not to fall. “I never felt like I deserved her,” he said quietly.

“Well you definitely don’t now.”

He winced. “I know. I just -- I want to see her. How is she?”

Feyre furrowed her brow, furious. “How is she? She hasn’t left her room since she got here. Elain’s been forcing water down her throat so she doesn’t shrivel up and die, that’s how she is.”

Azriel swallowed, trying to steady his shaking hands. He felt like he was drowning. He wished he would, if it meant that it would make you stop feeling like that. “Do you think she’ll talk to me?”

She studied him, her mouth a hard, thin line. Finally, she turned, heading inside and he followed her, his knees wobbling.

When they made it to your door, she knocked softly, saying through the door, “He’s here.”

Azriel held his breath until the door opened, slowly.

And when he saw you, he couldn’t breathe. You looked… devastating. Your eyes were red and swollen, you were pale, your hair was a mess.

It was his fault. He had done this to you. He felt sick.

Your eyes were hollow when you looked at him, like you didn’t feel anything at all.

“Do you want me to stay?” Feyre asked you quietly.

You shook your head, your eyes darting away from Azriel. Feyre shot him a warning glare before she reluctantly went down the hallway.

You turned, moving to sit on the bed that looked like it hadn’t been made in days, every movement you made looking wary, exhausted. Destroyed. Your eyes were fixed on your hands in your lap, unwilling to look at him.

Azriel lingered just inside the room, feeling uncomfortable in his skin. He longed to hold you in his arms, to kiss your pain away.

He said your name, willing you to look at him. You flinched.

It felt like a punch to the gut. Azriel wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

“I am so, so sorry,” he rasped.

You shook your head, not looking up. “How could you do this, Az? How could you do this to me?” Your voice cracked when you said his name.

Tears started to fall down his own cheeks as he said, “I… don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. I saw you dancing with those males, looking so carefree, and I didn’t feel like I fit into that part of your life. I’ve always felt like you deserved someone better than me, someone… easier.”

Finally, you looked up at him, and he wished you hadn’t. Your eyes were full of fury. And hurt. He had never seen you like that before. “You cheated on me because I danced with some guys for two seconds?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Azriel tried.

“You think I wanted somebody like them? Somebody easier?”

Azriel opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I thought--”

“I wanted you,” you spat, and he recoiled at the hurt in your voice, at the pain in your eyes that he had put there. “All I ever wanted was you.”

He couldn't breathe. His voice came out weaker than he had ever heard it, “I'm sorry. It was a mistake, I'm a miserable, miserable fool. I want you. You're all I want.”

You laughed, but it was a hollow, bitter sound. “How can you even say that after what you did?”

“I know, you’re right,” he sighed, raking a scarred hand through his hair, his shadows dancing around his arms. “It doesn’t make sense, what I did. It was stupid and awful, and the worst thing that I’ve ever done, and I am so so sorry,” he said, taking a step forward, reaching his hand out to take yours.

“Don’t touch me,” you spat, wrenching your hand away.

He blinked, taking a step back, his heart in his throat.

“You said you loved me,” you said, your voice now barely a whisper, as if all your energy had been completely drained. “You said you wanted to be with me forever. Did you ever mean any of it?”

“Of course I did,” he said softly. “I still do. I love you. I want you.”

You sniffed, putting your head in your hands. “Well. You should’ve thought of that before you fucked her.”

He blanched at your tone, at your language. He didn’t think you’d ever said that word before, at least not around him.

“Please,” he said, his voice breaking, as he knelt down in front of you, trying to meet your eyes. “Please, what can I do? What can I do to fix this?”

Your eyes rose to meet his. You took in the sight, the shadowsinger kneeling before you, begging for your forgiveness. “You can’t fix it,” you said, seething. “You left me. You abandoned me at Rita’s. Do you have any idea how that felt? I thought something horrible had happened to you!”

Azriel tightened his jaw. He hadn’t known, hadn’t even thought about--

“And then to see you. With her. In her bed,” you broke off, looking at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears from falling, he knew.

“I’m sorry.” It was all he could say. His tears were flowing down his cheeks now and he hastily wiped them away, not wanting to take his eyes off you for fear that you would vanish.

After a long moment, you leveled your gaze on him again. “Would you have told me? If I wasn’t worried sick, if I had just gone home, and waited for you to stumble on in, would you have told me? Or would you just keep acting like everything was fine, knowing that you had just betrayed me?”

Azriel swallowed hard. He thought about the guilt he had felt immediately, how he was contemplating what the hell he was going to tell you as he was staring at that ceiling before Rhysand had knocked. “I would’ve told you,” he said, his voice husky. “I was going to tell you.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, looking anywhere but him. “I don’t even know why I asked. How can I trust anything you say?”

“I don’t know. But it’s true,” he said, shifting on his knees, wishing he could reach for your hand.

Hiding your face in your hands, you said, barely audibly, “I hate you. I hate you for doing this to me and making me feel like this.”

Azriel’s heart finally shattered completely. He knew he would never be able to put the pieces back together, as long as he lived. He had done this to you, his beautiful, bubbly, happy love. Reduced to this. To hating him. And he couldn’t even blame you.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you.”

“Stop saying that,” you cried.

“It’s true. It’s all I’ve got. I won’t try to make excuses, I’m just … I’m sorry. And I love you. I’ll never stop loving you.”

You sniffled, and took your hands away from your face, looking to the ceiling once again, like you were steeling yourself to say what you were about to. “I never want to see you again,” you said, weakly. “You can have the apartment. Elain and Nesta are packing my things right now.”

Azriel shook his head, his panic rising, “No, no, you don’t have to--”

“I do,” you cut him off. “It’s done, Az. We’re done,” you rose off the bed and went to the washroom, looking unsteady on your feet. “You can go now.”

You shut yourself in behind the closed door, and it was five hundred years of will and training that carried his legs out of the river house, and out of your life forever.

Azriel took to the sky, flying and flying, the wind biting at his skin, at his eyes. He kept picturing your heartbroken expression, the words you spoke to him.

He didn't stop flying until he made it to the depths of the Illyrian mountains, where he knew he would be well and truly alone.

Spotting a flat section nestled between several mountains, he landed in the snow, barely stopping long enough to punch the mountainside. It was stupid, he knew, he was more likely to break his hand than blow off any of this steam, but he had to do something to stop this pain, this panic, this despair that he could blame on nobody but himself.

He had lost you. He had lost the love of his life forever because he couldn't overcome his fears. He had been so scared that he wasn't good enough for you that he made sure that it was true.

Grunting, he punched the mountainside over and over again until his knuckles bled, and then he punched it some more. Tears froze on his cheeks, the wind chilling him to the bone.

Az was dimly aware of someone landing behind him, so hard it shook the ground beneath his feet. He kept punching.

“You're not going to solve your problems out here,” Cassian called to him.

Finally, Azriel halted, turning around to face his brother. “You know, we have better things to punch,” Cassian added.

Azriel scowled, sinking into the snow, exhausted.

Cassian strode over to him, plopping down a few feet away, hissing at the cold now sleeping through his pants. He studied Azriel, seemingly waiting for him to speak.

“She hates me,” Azriel whispered finally. “She said she never wants to see me again.”

Cassian sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Fuck.”

Azriel could only nod sadly.

“You know she didn't mean it. At least not the second part. She loves you.”

Sniffing, wiping at his eyes, Azriel groaned. “I don't know if she does anymore.”

“She does,” Cassian said quietly. “I know she does.”

After a beat of silence, Cassian asked, “What are you going to do?”

Azriel shrugged, watching his bloody hands start to heal. “Well. I could either hang around, keep apologizing, and piss her off more, or… leave her alone…”

“And piss her off more,” Cassian added.

A dry laugh escaped Azriel. “Exactly.”

Cassian was quiet for a moment, seemingly pondering how to help him.

“I’m not giving up on her,” Azriel finally said, with more conviction than he felt. “I just… I don't want to make it worse.”

“Az, I hate to tell you this, but I don't think it could get much worse,” Cassian said, grimacing.

Azriel just sighed, stretching out his wings behind him.

---

I knew I'd curse you for the longest time

Chasing shadows in the grocery line.

Seeing Azriel again, seeing him beg on his knees for your forgiveness, seeing how hollow his eyes looked, how his shadows were so unrelenting around him, had absolutely wrecked you.

It was another few days until you had the courage to leave the river house at all.

Azriel had come back to the river house several times, but you had your friends send him away. You couldn’t bear to see him again.

Feyre and Rhysand had checked on you frequently during your stay at their house, consoling you, cursing Azriel’s name right along with you. Rhys had even loaned you what you needed to get your own apartment, on the other side of Velaris from the one that you once shared with Azriel.

That part seemed to make it final, somehow. You could almost convince yourself it had all been a dream until you made your way to your new, empty apartment, without a trace of the love that used to be yours.

That empty apartment wrecked you all over again, and as you looked around it for the first time, your body folded in half, arms wrapping around your stomach as your body racked with sobs.

You had started to regret insisting that you do this part by yourself.

It was really over. Azriel really cheated on you and it was really done.

You knew it was time to start distancing yourself from Azriel’s family. They had undoubtedly been on your side this whole time, but even Rhysand and Feyre were starting to change their tune slightly. You know he loves you still. You know he’s a good male. You know he’s so sorry.

You understood where they were coming from, really, you did.

But that didn’t make it hurt less. What you needed was to hate him. It was the only way you could ever bring yourself to move on, to start living your life again.

You had been solemnly unpacking for a few hours when there was a knock on your door. You stiffened immediately. Rhysand and Feyre had said that they wouldn’t tell Azriel where you lived, but maybe he had figured it out?

“Relax sweetheart, it’s me,” Cassian said on the other side of the door, and you did relax, if only slightly. You hadn’t seen him since before this all started.

Reluctantly you let him in. He was sauntering, wearing that easy smirk he always donned. You couldn’t decide if it was comforting or annoying.

Cassian whistled as he looked around. “Nice place.”

You settled on the couch, tucking your feet underneath you. “What are you doing here?”

His eyes softened as he walked closer to you, then perched next to you on the couch, not quite relaxed. “I wanted to check on you.”

“You can report back to Azriel that I’m just as pissed as ever,” you grumbled.

“He doesn’t know I’m here,” Cassian said quietly.

Skeptically, you turned to face him. You were sure he would be the most likely to take Azriel’s side.

After a moment, Cassian said, “If it’s any consolation, he hates himself probably about as much as you hate him right now.”

“I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse,” you admitted.

Cassian sighed, leaning back into the couch. “Did you mean it? That you never wanted to see him again?”

You shifted, hugging your knees to your chest. “In the moment I did. Thinking about seeing him now… it breaks me apart. But, thinking about the rest of my life completely without him…”

“That breaks you apart too?” Cassian offered.

You nodded, tears stinging your eyes.

“Okay, look,” Cassian said, turning so he fully faced you. “I’m going to tell you something. You’re my friend and he’s my brother, and I love you both, so I need you to know I’m not trying to convince you of anything, I am merely giving you information. Okay?”

“O-kay…”

He took a deep breath, seemingly gathering his thoughts, before he continued. “Azriel has always felt like he was inferior. The way he was raised… he carries that around more than a lot of people think. He often thinks that he isn’t good enough for people, but especially you.”

“How do you know?” You knew that Az still dealt with a lot from his childhood, but he wouldn’t often voice those things to you. He had mentioned something about not feeling good enough when you saw him, but you weren’t sure what to make of it.

“He mentioned it to me a few times, that he didn’t feel like he was the kind of person you should be with. You’re so bright and bubbly, he felt like you deserved somebody who was the same.”

You rested your cheek on your knee, trying to digest the information. “But… he must have known I never actually felt like that, right?”

Cassian shrugged. “On a good day, maybe. But deep down I think he always had it in the back of his mind: that fear that he wasn’t right for you.”

“He should’ve told me,” you said quietly.

“I agree. And I’m not saying that it excuses what he did, but that day…it was a hard one for him. What he had to do in the Court of Nightmares.”

Your stomach dropped. You hadn’t even thought about that.

“Well, he should’ve told me that too.”

Cassian nodded. “Yes. He should have.”

You groaned. “I hate this.”

“I know,” he said quietly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. “I’m sorry.”

Cassian let you cry on his chest for a long moment before he said, “hH wants to come see you, you know. He doesn't want to give up on you.”

When you didn't respond, he said softly, “Just think about it.”

Days later, all that Cassian had said was still ringing in your ears, even as you walked through the market when it was the busiest.

Despite everything, it hurt your heart to think that Azriel had ever felt like he wasn't enough for you. And you were still so hurt at what he had done and what you had seen, but it at least made more sense now.

You hated this feeling of loneliness that followed you around wherever you went now, rooted so deeply in you that you were scared it would never go away.

Azriel had been so good to you for so long. Was one mistake really worth throwing everything away?

Every time you had the thought though, you remembered the sight of him in her bed and wanted to scream or cry or kick something.

Suddenly, as you were nearing the edge of the market, you swore you saw the wisp of a curling shadow out of the corner of your eye and stiffened. This hadn't been the first time that you thought you glimpsed Azriel's shadows or wings in public since it happened.

But, no this time it was real. And he saw you too.

You willed your feet to move, but they wouldn't. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, from this man who had loved and hurt you so completely.

Azriel approached you like you were an injured animal he was trying not to scare away. Your heart thundered in your chest.

“Hi,” he said in what you knew was his gentlest voice.

You couldn't bring yourself to speak. Still, after everything, you missed him. And seeing him now… it was too much to bear. Yet, too much to walk away.

“I'm sorry,” he said softly, his eyes swimming with pain and affection. His shadows were on full display, despite the fact that they usually shied away from the sun.

“You've already said that,” you murmured, still rooted to the spot.

“I know. And I'll keep saying it every chance I get. If I knew where you lived, I'd send you flowers or a book or dinner from that restaurant you love every day and I'd tell you I'm sorry and that I love you.” His voice was shaky in a way you had never heard from the shadowsinger.

“You would not,” you said, trying to sound angry but it just came out weak.

“Of course I would,” he said, risking a step closer to you. “I would do anything to take your pain away. You have to believe that.”

You did. You did believe that he meant it. But you didn't know if it would be enough.

For a moment you let yourself gaze at the man you once trusted with your whole heart. He looked thinner, like he hadn't been eating enough. His eyes were still hollow, dark bags beneath them. Even his wings drooped slightly. He might look even worse than you did.

And yet, you could still see the beautiful, sweet shadowsinger you had fallen in love with so long ago.

Finally you said quietly, “I'll tell Rhys he can give you my address.”

Those hazel eyes sparked with hope. And love. Definitely love.

---

The only thing I wanna do

Is make it up to you.

When you went out the next morning, there was a book left at your doorstep with a note attached.

It was the newest from one of your favorite authors. Your lips formed the tiniest smile.

The note read:

I couldn't start my groveling with something too cliche, so I went straight for your romance novels.

I've never told you this, but I always love when you tell me about the books you’re reading. Your entire face lights up when you do. And you know I love a fairytale ending.

I hope you have a good day today.

I'm so sorry for what I did. I'm so sorry for hurting you.

I love you so much. I always will.

-Az

You couldn't help but laugh a little by the time you got to the end. As if anybody else would be writing you this note.

The next morning when you stepped out your door, there was a pastry from your favorite cafe in a to-go bag. On the bag was a note:

I'm really hoping you'll find this in the morning so it's still good.

If not, you just come let me know and I'll drop everything to get you a fresh one.

I miss you.

My life is a nightmare without you.

I'm so sorry.

I love you.

-Az

And so it went. Every morning, rain or shine, Azriel would leave something that he knew you would love, with a note, always ending in some version of I'm sorry. I love you.

It did warm your heart that had turned so cold. The dedication alone was enough to prove to you that he really was sorry for what he did.

Yet, every time a note would make you laugh or cry so much that you wanted to run to his arms, you were always stopped by that image that plagued your mind. By the fact that he did what he did and no amount of little gifts would change it.

Months passed, and to Azriel's credit, the gifts, and more importantly the notes, kept coming. Your bedside drawer was completely full of them. And there may have been a night or two when you missed him so desperately that you would read them over and over again until your eyes burned and you had no choice but to cry yourself to sleep.

You would sometimes lay awake at night, picturing him coming up to your door. Several times you wanted to wait up for him, to listen for his footsteps, to pull him into your apartment, forget everything that happened and just be happy again.

But you never had the nerve. You were terrified of going through it all again.

Until one day, there was no gift at your door. No note. No sign of him anywhere.

Your heart plummeted. Had something happened to him? Was he hurt? Injured on some mission Rhysand sent him on?

Or had he finally given up on you?

It wasn't until that moment that you were willing to admit to yourself how much you had been relying on those notes, those little pieces of him.

You went through your day in a daze, devastated all over again.

It was early in the evening when there was a knock on your door. For a moment, you hoped it would be Azriel. You hadn't actually seen him for months. But you quickly realized it was more likely to be one of your friends, who still came by, despite what you had initially thought.

So, the breath was knocked completely out of you when it was indeed the shadowsinger waiting on the other side of the door.

His handsome face, his soft expression, on his face made you want to weep. You missed him so much.

Azriel smiled somewhat shyly as he gazed down at you, holding a paper bag in his hand. “I'm sorry it's late. Rhys has got me scouting out some things, and I didn't get back here until now. I brought dinner,” he said, holding it out to you.

You recognized it from your favorite restaurant. With shaking hands, you took it from him, spotting the note attached to the outside.

I'm sorry. I love you.

Over and over again it was repeated, taking up the entire paper. You placed it on a table inside before your gaze flicked back to him. He was watching you closely, his wings tucked in tightly behind him.

“I thought you gave up on me,” you whispered.

His timid smile fell. “Never,” he said softly. “I'll never give up on you. I love you so much.”

Tears brimmed your eyes and all of a sudden, you knew you couldn't take it anymore. You didn't want to hate him, you didn't want to dwell on the one awful thing that he had done. You had a drawer full of wonderful things that he had done.

“I love you, too,” you murmured, the tears spilling freely down your cheeks now.

A sound that sounded distinctly like a sob escaped Azriel, and he wrapped his arms around you, crushing you into his chest. “I never thought I'd hear you say that again,” he sniffed, his hand cupping the back of your head, kissing your temple.

After a long moment, he took your face in his hands, gazing at you for a moment before he slowly kissed your tears away. You laughed lightly and he smiled, leaning in to kiss you so softly, like he was afraid you would break.

“I love you,” he murmured against your mouth. “I love you so much.”

You pulled back long enough to gently brush his tears away. “No more secrets. If you're struggling with something, you need to tell me.”

“I know. I'm sorry. No more secrets.”

“And nobody else. Ever.”

He winced. “I'm so sorry, love.”

“I know you are,” you said softly, cupping his cheek in your hand.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

You rose to your tiptoes to kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

At last, you had found your way back home.

#acotar fic #acotar one shot #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar #azriel one shot #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel angst #acotar angst #acotar fanfic #angst #angst with a happy ending #request #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel

545 notes · View notes

tongue-like-a-razor · 1 year

Note

Can u please do smut or fluff of this with rooster or hangman:

Y/n: hey can you zip me up?

R or H: Sure!

...

Y/n: I said zip me up not down

Ooh thank you for this sweet request, I had so much fun with this one!!

The Zipper Incident

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're running late and need some help zipping up your dress. After recovering from the initial shock of seeing you all dolled up, Rooster is more than happy to assist.

CW: Fluff, angst, swearing, a pinch of smut. You stand up your date, which is shitty of you, but it's probably worth it.

I’d like to think that this little drabble could be a prelude to this fic but it’s absolutely not a necessity to read it first. I just had this particular dynamic in mind while writing this.

You rush out of the locker room in a panic, whipping your head around to see if anyone is still around. Your date is imminent – t-minus twenty minutes and counting – and you’ve spent the last forty-five on your hair and makeup only to suffer a devastating wardrobe malfunction at zero hour.

You’re sure that everyone is long gone but you nonetheless shuffle over to the guys’ locker room on the off chance that perhaps somebody might still be in the building.

Just as you’re coming up on the door, Bradley walks out and you nearly collide with him in your haste.

“Woah!” he yells, holding his arms out in case you wouldn’t be able to stop in time.

“Oh my god, Rooster! Thank god!” you shriek.

Now that he’s had a moment to process the situation, Bradley is blinking at you oddly, his eyes slipping briefly to glance at your dress before reverting to your face.

While you’re flattered that your outfit has rendered him speechless – the guy’s never seen you in anything but a uniform – you hardly have time for this kind of delay. “Rooster, can you do me a favor, please? Can you zip me up?” You turn your back to him promptly and twist your arm behind you to point to the zipper that’s gotten stuck halfway up.

“Uh.” Bradley stalls and you look over your shoulder to see his gaze trailing down your bare back as he tentatively lifts his hands.

“Bradshaw, today!” you urge, bouncing slightly on the spot while you hold up the front of your strapless dress.

You feel his fingers graze your back as he pulls gently on the zipper. “It’s jammed,” he says a little hoarsely.

You let out an exasperated sigh. “No shit,” you reply. “Look, I’ve got a date in” – you close your eyes and whimper desperately – “fifteen minutes. Could you maybe put those big, strong muscles to good use?” You throw him a deriding look before glancing pointedly at the arm that's taking up approximately half of your field of view. His bicep is even more pronounced than usual in the tight, black t-shirt he’s wearing.

Rooster exhales slowly, tugging more deliberately on the zipper. “I don’t want to break it,” he says.

This statement gives you pause and you spin around sharply, nearly taking Bradley’s hands with you. “You can’t break it!” you exclaim. “I have nothing else to wear!”

Bradley watches you steadily. “Well,” he says with a small smirk. “Don’t rush me, then.”

You eye him warily before turning back around. “Okay,” you say. “But you don’t have all day,” you mutter when he starts to fiddle with the zipper once more.

His hands stop moving and he clears his throat. “We had a deal.”

You sigh, starting to tap your foot, when your feel his hands close around your shoulders.

“You’re wiggling,” he says.

“I’m anxious,” you retort sourly.

Bradley steps closer until his chest is brushing lightly against your back, and leads you out into the center of the corridor. “I need more light,” he says.

You close your eyes. “It’s a fucking zipper, Bradshaw. You operate a fifteen tonne, seventy-million-dollar government vehicle fifty thousand feet off the ground but this is somehow a struggle?”

Bradley’s hands stop moving. “That fifteen tonne vehicle came with an instruction manual and five years of training.”

“Oh, hang on,” you say. “Let me just pull out my zipper manual. I don’t go anywhere without that thing.”

Bradley snorts. “You’re distracting me,” he says, yanking slightly on the zipper and, in the process, pulling you closer.

You hang your head defeatedly, trying to stay still while he works to fix your dress.

After several moments of silence, Bradley speaks again. “You have a date, huh?”

You stare at the space where the floor meets the wall, taken aback by his question. You and Bradley have but a smidge of history; you met a few months ago when you were brought in for a mission together, and have since been assigned to the same squadron. You’ve flirted here and there, exchanged a few meaningful glances, but nothing more than the occasional tease has ever come to pass. You’re both professionals and, as such, are amply aware that any sort of romantic entanglement would quickly dissolve into a logistical nightmare fraught with more paperwork than either of you would care to complete. And yet, the insinuation in his tone, paired with the intermittent brush of his hands along your back sends a quiet thrill through your body, resulting in a soft blush that heats your cheeks and creeps down your neck. You nervously pat down your hair, making sure it obscures your reddening face before you respond with a casual, “Mm-hm.”

“Anyone I know?” he asks, his thumb sweeping over your shoulder blade as he takes a break from wrestling with the zipper.

Suddenly you’re extremely aware of how short your dress is and how very loosely it hangs around your sides as you clutch it to your chest. “I doubt it,” you say quickly, wondering how you hadn’t noticed the obvious draft coming from the vent overhead until right now while firmly pressing the material of your dress against your rapidly hardening nipples.

“Well, you look nice,” he says, his voice a little rough as he resumes his efforts with the zipper.

You bite down hard on your lip, trying to suppress the shiver triggered by his words. “Would be nicer if I were fully dressed,” you respond flatly.

“Debatable,” Rooster counters.

You swallow uneasily as Bradley continues jerking at your dress. He’s flirting with you now? Ten minutes till go time? After weeks of avoiding every instance of physical contact, including that time you sprained your ankle and he called Phoenix over to help you get to medical instead of taking you himself?

Suddenly, you feel the waist of your dress release as the zipper gives. You gasp, pressing the fabric against your body as it starts to glide.

“Bradshaw!” you yelp. “I said ‘zip me up!’”

“Sorry!” Bradley fumbles with the dress. “It slipped.”

“Sure,” you say with a note of cynicism in your tone.

Bradley chuckles, sliding the zipper back up. “I promise, it was unintentional.” He pauses for a moment, his fingers still holding the clasp even after having completed the task you’ve given him. He runs his palms along your shoulders before they come to rest on your upper arms. “You’ve got a nice back,” he says quietly.

You freeze, trying to come up with an adequate response to the most unexpected of compliments, but you can’t bring yourself to face him because you’re blushing anew. You take a second to gather your thoughts, close your eyes to savour the moment. You’ve completely forgotten about the time and how much of it you might have left because all your concentration is devoted entirely to the gentle sweep of Bradley’s fingers as they slide down your arms.

“First date?” he asks.

You’re furious. You’re livid. Where was all this attention four weeks ago when all that glorious flirting amounted to absolutely nothing. “Second,” you respond curtly.

“Getting serious,” he says wryly, his hands trailing all the way down to your fingertips before they finally fall to his sides.

You chuckle and, although it’s becoming increasingly difficult to restrain yourself from turning to face him, you mutter a quick, “Thanks, Rooster,” while smoothing out the wrinkles on the front of your dress.

Bradley walks around to take a look at you from the front and now you have no choice but to meet his gaze. You give him a tight smile and do a little curtsy and he laughs, shaking his head.

“That’s a hell of a dress,” he says.

You give him a serious look. “It’s not the dress, Bradshaw. It’s the model.”

He grins at you in amusement. “Can’t argue with that.”

You nod slowly, slightly lost in his eyes, when you suddenly remember that you’re running late. “Shit! What’s the time?” You lunge forward to grab his forearm so that you could check his wristwatch. “Fuck! I have to run!”

You drop Bradley’s hand, glancing up at him sharply. He’s watching you with a bewildered expression, as though he wasn’t expecting you to actually leave. “Okay,” he says. “Have a good time.”

You nod and start to draw back, finally turning and escaping down the hall and into the women’s changeroom. Once the door is closed behind you, you sink down on a bench, bringing a hand to your unsettled stomach. The interaction with Bradley has resulted in a revival of that ridiculous crush you had on him when you first arrived on base. You’ve been fairly successful at quashing those feelings, right up until ten minutes ago when Bradley was able to effectively resuscitate them with a vengeance.

You let out a frustrated sigh and start putting away your belongings. You step into your heels and sit back down to do up the straps. Walking over to the mirror, you fix your hair and take a moment to admire your makeup. No wonder Bradley was flabbergasted. He’s never even seen you wear lipstick.

You pick up your purse after shoving your backpack into a locker and head for the door but, when you walk out, Bradley is still there, waiting for you.

You waver on the spot upon seeing him while he hesitates slightly before approaching you. His eyes rake over your figure before finally resting on your face. “I can’t let you go on that date,” he says, his rasp more pronounced somehow, perhaps because he’s trying to keep his voice down.

You gulp nervously, blinking up at him as your cheeks flush. “Why not?” you ask quietly.

Bradley bites into his bottom lip as the corner of his mouth curls upward mischievously. “Because even thinking about you on a date with someone else is making me angry.”

You let out a shallow breath as his eyes focus briefly on your lips. “Why?” you whisper.

You feel Bradley’s hand cup your waist, pressing you gently into the wall at your back while he takes another step forward. He lowers his head and you lift your gaze as he towers over you, as he places the palm of his other hand on the wall behind your head. His breathing is heavier than usual but he comes closer still, caging you in. “Because it should be me,” he says hoarsely.

You lower your gaze but soon feel his fingers under your chin, lifting your face to look at him. “You didn’t ask me,” you manage to say despite the distracting pounding in your temples. “Are you only interested because I’m unavailable?”

Bradley slowly shakes his head, bringing his forehead to rest on yours. The hand that’s been leaning against the wall slips down to your shoulder as he takes another step closer and his body brushes yours. “You know that’s not true,” he says.

You put a hand on his abdomen, pushing him away half-heartedly. “I know that you’ve had plenty of opportunities to make this happen and chose not to.”

Bradley brings his hand down on top of yours on his stomach. “Maybe I was intimidated,” he mutters with a grin.

You roll your eyes. “Am I less intimidating in a dress?”

He shakes his head, his smile widening. “More.” His fingers close around yours, still pressed against his rock-hard abs. “But you left me no choice. I had to just bite the bullet and go for it.”

You glance up at him reproachfully. “I’m late,” you say.

Bradley pulls his lips into a frown as his eyebrows crease. “Stay,” he pleads.

You scoff, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Bradley,” you say. “You’re late too.” You start to peel your back from the wall, forcing him to back away from you.

He takes several steps backward, the disappointment evident on his face. “You don’t want to go,” he says quietly.

You raise your eyebrows. “How the fuck do you know what I want?” you ask, offended.

He watches you piercingly. “I can tell you want to stay.”

“If you can tell, then why didn’t you ask me out before?” you say angrily.

“Because I’m an idiot!” he responds heatedly.

“Well, at least we agree on that,” you say.

Bradley sucks in his cheeks, nodding contemptuously. “Now what?” he asks. “Ball’s in your court.”

You stare at him crossly. “Now nothing, Bradley,” you say. “You didn’t start anything because you knew that it would be a conflict of interest. That, if anybody found out, one of us would end up being reassigned.”

“Who has to find out?”

You close your eyes briefly before giving him a withering look. “Well, now we know where your head’s at.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just want to fuck,” you say matter-of-factly.

Bradley stares at you, speechless for a moment. “What are you talking about?”

“Sorry, Bradshaw,” you say. “That’s not my style.”

But when you turn to leave, Bradley springs after you, grabbing your arm and pulling you back around. “You’ve got it wrong,” he says. “I promise you.”

You eye his fingers, still wrapped firmly around your arm. “Come on, ‘Nobody has to know?’” You glance up at him disdainfully. “You obviously don’t see a future here.” You regret the words the moment they leave your mouth, recognizing how unreasonable it is to expect him to see much of anything with someone he hardly knows. But his words have caused quite a sting which, in turn, has made you slightly irrational. “You know this is a bad idea,” you say finally, reluctantly.

Bradley takes a step forward, simultaneously pulling you closer. He takes a moment to study your features before speaking. “I know that if you go on your date right now, I’m going to lose my fucking mind,” he says with a small chuckle.

You watch him carefully as he brings a hand up to brush some hair away from your eyes. “I’m really late,” you whisper, your hands moving of their own accord to rest on his hips.

Bradley brings his face down to meet yours, his nose brushing along your cheek. “I really want you to stay,” he says in a low voice, his grip loosening on your arm and his fingers gliding gently up to your shoulder.

You lift your face slightly to let him brush his lips with yours. After an excruciating pause during which his mouth hovers tantalisingly over yours, Bradley finally bridges the gap, confidently capturing your lips in his. His fingertips dig into your shoulders as he presses his body against yours, directing you backward into the wall. He leans into you eagerly, his kiss overriding each of your senses as you adapt to its unpredictable rhythm. Slow and deep, then soft and sweeping, evolving with your every movement. His hands twist rabidly into your hair, rough but restrained as he paces himself while you breathe unevenly against his mouth.

He's warm; swathed around you almost possessively; protectively. You aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. You pant when he finally releases your lips, struggling to steady your heartrate.

Bradley lowers himself slightly to diffuse kisses along your jawline, the pressure of his lips on your skin quickly escalating as the two of you sink into one another. You open your mouth to sigh against his ear when his hand slips underneath the hem of your dress. “Bradley,” you whine as his finger drifts along the line of your panties.

“Yeah baby?” he breathes, his finger tracing circles into the already saturated lace.

“This is a terrible idea,” you whimper as the most torturous desire pulsates through your body.

“Yeah, baby,” Bradley agrees, continuing the gentle strokes of his finger over your soaking panties.

You bite your lip trying to suppress a moan, fevered and nearly shaking, sweating and breathless, unsteady in your heels. You feel transported but unsettled, euphoric but wanting. You nip at Bradley’s earlobe in response to which Bradley presses his mouth into the crook of your neck and releases a muffled groan. You continue sucking on his ear and kissing his neck and the hand that’s been hovering between your legs suddenly grips into your thigh. You let out a soft cry and Bradley stifles it with a passionate kiss. His hand coasts upward, cupping your ass cheek as he presses himself against you, pinning you to the wall. “Bradshaw,” you murmur against his lips. “Can you do me a favor?”

Bradley’s teeth catch your bottom lip before he starts gently pecking your swollen lips. “Anything,” he responds in his grating rasp.

You let out a shallow breath. “Can you unzip me?”

Bradley’s mouth curls into a smile against your lips as his hand glides down your back. “I’ve got you, baby,” he says softly, pulling on the zipper. “I’m an expert.” You chuckle as your dress comes loose but, a moment later, Bradley mutters, “Fuck,” right into your open mouth.

You pull back to stare at him mutely as he gives the zipper a few more tugs. “Don’t tell me,” you say in disbelief.

“What is it with this thing?” Bradley says in exasperation, spinning you around to inspect the contraption. You giggle, resting your forehead on the wall resignedly but, the next moment, Bradley grabs you by the waist and pulls you in. “Fuck it,” he says, lifting the skirt of your dress. “I can work around it.”

Rooster Tag List:

Please feel free to let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in Rooster fics/if you no longer consume Rooster content <3 The rest of the tags are in the comments!

@simp-for-fictional-people

@ollyoxenfrees

@iamabeautifulperson18

@living-in-my-imagination88

@wintercap89

@mavrellover91

@gingerbreadandpaper

@lonelywitchv2

@cashwheelersgirl89

@callsign-jupiter

@kindablackenedsuperhero

@everything-i-love-in-life

@malindacath

@rosiahills22

@wandering-wah

@olliepig

@m1llydins

@emilyniamh3679-blog

@footwatter

@books-for-summer

@harper1666

@coffeeaddictedmay

@diabeticgoth

@katiebby04

@problematic-420

@wishfulhope

@elizabitchsshit

@inarabee

@boringusername3

@zombiedixon89

@izz-ayes-world

@ratedtvpg

@mak-32

@sunnysofia

@a-nostalgic-disaster

@aaliyahjovel

@anyonehaveanyorangeslices

@bcon24

@lovemesomevesey

@daydreamingalways

@gerudolivinliv

@emilybradshaw

@olivethenerd16

@kaitlynw011

@l-rexter45

@xoxo-lyss

@beebslebobs

@dracosluvbot

@peoniarose

@annedub

4K notes · View notes

natsukishinomiyaswife · 10 days

Text

⋆ 𝓙𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓵 𝓥𝓲𝓹𝓮𝓻: 𝓐 𝓙𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓣𝓼𝓾𝓶 ⋆

I wrote this for an OC of mine, but changed it to be a x Reader so that I could post it! Enjoy! ♡

⋆ It's scary how similar they are, you couldn't help but think, feeling a pair of eyes on you.

You're sitting in the lounge of Scarabia, playing with Kalim's tsum. Jamil's tsum sits a few feet away, watching you intensely. Kalim had an emergency club meeting to attend, the Pop Music Club's concert having been rescheduled to be sooner. The members were left scrambling to practice with the short deadline. Since Jamil had his duties to attend to, you offered to watch their tsums for them, Kalim thanking you and saying goodbye to his tsum before rushing off.

⋆ Jamil was more reluctant, hesitating for a moment before allowing it with a sigh. Him and his tsum locked eyes, staring at each other. They stayed that way for a minute, having a silent conversation before he left down the hall. Since they left, all Jamil's tsum did was stare at you, keeping his distance. It reminded you so much of Jamil, how he always seemed to watch you for some reason, never really approaching. It made you nervous, looking back every once in a while to see if the tsum was still there.

⋆ You weren't sure why it put you on edge, much like how Jamil's staring would. Perhaps it's because you're unsure what you did wrong, looking back again to see the tsum behind you, watching you still. You took a deep breath, doing your best to focus on Kalim's tsum. He was a little bundle of energy, never seeming to keep still as he bounced about happily. Watching him made you smile, laughing as you played. A chill ran up your spine as you felt Jamil tsum's stare, turning to see the tsum was looking at you much more intensely. It almost seemed like he was glaring at you, making you turn back to Kalim's tsum with a frown.

⋆ The happy tsum seemed to notice the change in your mood, laying himself in your lap as a way to comfort you. You looked down at the tsum, his eyes looking back at you as if asking if you were alright. A small smile came to your face, petting the top of his head. He was so cute, and reminded you so much of Kalim. You looked back to check on Jamil's tsum, doing a double take when you realized he wasn't there. You started looking around the room, trying to see where the tsum could have gone to and doing your best not to panic.

⋆ Right as you were about to get up and start searching the halls, Jamil's tsum appeared, carrying something on his back. As he got closer you realized it was a plate of fruit, the tsum sitting it down in front of you. You stared at the tsum in confusion as he nudged the plate, as if telling you to eat. You pick up a grape, realizing you were hungrier than you thought. Your chest grows warm as you eat the fruit, realizing the tsum had noticed you hadn't eaten in a while.

⋆ You turn to look at him with a shy smile, petting the tsum's head as you thank him. The tsum seems pleased by this, soaking in your touch. After a moment, Kalim's tsum hops in your lap, clearly wanting some attention too. You laugh at his antics, moving to pet his head instead. You feel Jamil's tsum staring again, just as intense as before. You turn to the tsum, wondering what was wrong. As you gaze at the tsum you realize his stare wasn't directed at you, following his line of sight to the tsum in your lap.

⋆ It takes a moment before it clicks, with you apologizing to Jamil's tsum and shifting your attention back to him.

"Ah, sorry! Did you want to sit in my lap too?"

Jamil's tsum seemed embarrassed at being caught, but didn't deny your offer, moving to lay next to Kalim's tsum. Though he didn't seem happy with sharing, pushing the other tsum out of your lap when you weren't looking. Kalim's tsum bounced back up a moment later, choosing to sit on your shoulder instead.

⋆ Jamil was done with his tasks for the day, heading back to the dorm lounge to check on you. He hopes Kalim's tsum didn't give you too much trouble, figuring his own wouldn't do much. If anything, perhaps his tsum helped you keep Kalim's in check. When he got to the doorway of the lounge he froze, taking in the sight before him. You sat on the floor, Kalim's tsum sitting on your shoulder while his own rests in your lap. You had a small smile on your face as you looked down at the tsum, petting his head. His tsum was clearly pleased with the attention, looking smug when he noticed Jamil in the doorway. Jamil couldn't help but cross his arms, shooting his tsum a look.

⋆ What he wasn't prepared for was you picking his tsum up from your lap, lifting the tsum close to your face as you eyed him affectionately.

"You really do look like Jamil! Same hair, same clothes. It's so cute!"

You press a gentle kiss to his tsum's forehead, setting him back in your lap afterwards. The sight causes his heart to pound in his chest, feeling flustered as he turns around. He'll come back later, after he's calmed down ♡

I might post the original one I wrote featuring my OC one day, but for now...

𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾! ♡

#♡.sheep writes #♡.twst #♡.jamil viper #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader

411 notes · View notes

girlgenius1111 · 1 month

Text

arrival

alexia x r - mila verse :) the arrival of little baby mila. talk of pregnancy and giving birth, obviously.

You hated being pregnant. Some women, you knew, loved it. You were not one of those people. You felt humongous, everything hurt all the time, you felt sick most of the time, and more than anything, you just wanted to meet your baby girl. You were excited to give birth, if for no other reason than finally getting to be done being pregnant.

And it wasn’t that you thought labor would be easy, not at all. You were just very sure you could handle it. If it meant getting your baby to you safely, you could do it.

You didn’t consider that maybe your body wouldn’t be able to do it, or that your baby wouldn’t cooperate either. No, you naively thought you were past the stage where there could be complications. Labor would be difficult, you were sure, but it would be over and done after a couple of hours. You had nothing to worry about. That was what you thought.

-------

You were in the shower when your water broke, which was actually really lucky. No mess to clean up, and you could finish your shower before heading to the hospital.

“Ale!” You shouted, turning the water off briefly to hear your wife’s footsteps running down the hall towards you.

“Are you okay?” Alexia asked, bursting into the bathroom, looking around frantically.

You were completely calm when you responded, knowing that if you panicked, Alexia would panic. “I’m fine. My water broke. I’m gonna finish washing my hair, can you get the bag ready? And bring me some clothes?”

“Your… you… it is…. tiempo de bebe?” Alexia spluttered, looking shocked, as if you hadn’t been pregnant for 9 months.

“Yes, Ale, baby time.” You smiled, turning the water back on and continuing to rinse your hair out.

Alexia turned toward the door and then back to you at least 3 times before she seemed to get a handle on herself, taking a deep breath, and yanking the shower door back open.

“Amor, we need to go! Get out, get out, you cannot give birth here, it is not clean!”

You rolled your eyes, turning off the water and holding your hand out for your towel. Alexia misunderstood, grabbing your hand with both of hers, eyes wide.

“My towel, babe.” Your wife nodded her head rapidly, grabbing your towel and carefully wrapping it around you. She was practically bouncing up and down as you took your time getting out of the shower and began to dry off. “Alexia. The bag. Clothes. Vamos, there is a person inside of me that wants to get out.”

“Sí, sí,” Alexia said, rushing out of the bathroom. She’d only made it a few feet before you heard a crash in the hall, one that sounded like she’d tripped over her own feet. “Estoy bien!” She shouted, confirming that she had, in fact, tripped.

You shook your head, not sure whether to laugh or cry, knowing you needed to step in before her poor head exploded. She returned with clothes for you to pull on, watching anxiously as you did so, to ensure you didn’t need help. Once you were dressed, she turned to go grab the hospital bag, but you stopped her before she could get very far.

“Ale, ven aquí,” you called. Your wife turned back towards you, forehead wrinkling with worry as she walked back over to you, gently taking your hands in hers.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt? Should I call for an ambulance?”

“I’m fine. Breathe for a second, baby.” You told her, smiling sympathetically when she shook her head.

“Amor, we-”

“No, Alexia, you need to relax. Take a deep breath, please. Everything is fine. We have time. We have a plan. We’re okay.” You reminded her, squeezing her hands as she dutifully closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, they were clearer, and she looked determined.

“I am going to get the bag. Do not move.” She instructed, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before she walked calmly from the room.

-------

You were decidedly less calm hours later, when you began to have contractions. Not the little ones that had started in the car, but contractions, ones that felt like you were being ripped open from the inside out. You were, to put it nicely, a huge baby. You wanted the epidural as soon as possible, but the doctors said you weren’t far enough along, yet, and you’d have to wait so it didn’t wear off too early. This made sense, in theory, but it was making less and less sense after 12 hours had passed, and nothing was looking any different. You laid in the hospital bed, hand gripping your wifes much too tightly, teeth gritted as another contraction ripped through you.

“You are doing so good, mi amor, this one is almost over,” Alexia encouraged softly, trying not to flinch at the strength with which you were squeezing her hand. “I love you, I love you so much.”

You knew seeing you in such pain was torture for Alexia, having to watch and know she could do nothing about it. You were losing your nerve, though, growing less and less calm and less and less sure that you could actually do this as every minute passed. And even in the middle of giving birth, you were hyper aware of your wife, not wanting to cause her any unnecessary anxiety or sadness.

“Ale, can you go ask if I can have the epidural yet?” You asked after the contraction passed, deciding you just needed a few minutes alone to pull yourself together, shed a few tears, and give yourself a pep talk.

“I’ll call the nurse,” Alexia agreed, reaching for the button. You stopped her though, grabbing her hand and attempting to throw her a convincing smile that you were sure looked more like a grimace.

“It’ll be faster if you just go ask. Please, Ale.” You told her, watching as she looked between you and the door, clearly feeling unsure about leaving you. You had requested it, though, so she kissed your forehead, ignoring the fact that it was rather sweaty, and headed off in search of a nurse.

As the door shut behind her, you covered your face with your hand, letting a few choked sobs out in your wife’s absence. It was absurd, to have her leave so you could cry, but you weren’t quite sure you were capable of making rational decisions currently. You figured you had a couple minutes to calm down, knowing you could blame your tearstained face on a contraction when Alexia came back.

However, unbeknownst to you, Alexia had found a nurse just outside your room, relayed your request to be checked again, and turned around, rather pleased she hadn’t had to go very far.

“The nurse will be in so- mi amor, no,” Alexia walked back into the room, catching sight of your shaking form, and panicking. “What is it?” she asked, leaning over you and pulling your hand away from your face. “Mi niña, por favor hablame.” Alexia was begging desperately, now.

You’d been caught, and you’d definitely only made the situation worse by trying to hide your emotional outburst, because Alexia looked like she was about to find every doctor in the hospital and bring them all to you to find out what was wrong and what you needed.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you reassured her, although it wasn’t very effective as you grabbed a fistfull of her sweatshirt and tried to pull her closer.

“Okay, estoy aqui,” Alexia said soothingly, gesturing for you to scooch over in the bed so she could fit next to you. Once she was settled, you burrowed into her side, taking a few calming breaths. Your wife knew you very well, and had now realized that nothing was wrong with you or the baby, you were just feeling a bit overwhelmed. “You can do this, mi amor, I know you can,” she encouraged, frowning sadly when she felt you shake your head against her.

“I can’t, it hurts, I can’t do it,” you sobbed, only feeling worse when you felt another contraction beginning.

“You can. You are the strongest person I know. I am right here, we will do it together, vale? Just squeeze my hand, mi amor, I am right here with you.” Alexia promised, looking up at the monitor to see exactly why you were now tensing up so much.

You cursed loudly, this one being even more painful than the last, gripping Alexia’s hand painfully tight. Your wife didn’t even wince, she just kissed your temple, and whispered reassurances into your ear. “I know, I know it hurts. I am so proud of you. You are doing so well, so perfect for me.”

The nurse came in, then, giving you a sympathetic smile. She checked to see how things were progressing, which was rather uncomfortable and invasive, though you were well past caring, focused instead on the way your wife was tracing a calming pattern over your cheek with one of her fingers.

“Amor, Barça is star-”

“Finish that sentence and you’ll be leaving this hospital divorced.” You warned her, knowing she was just joking to distract you. She smiled sweetly at you, seeing her efforts worked, before she caught the nurses eye, and her face fell. You turned towards the nurse as well, seeing a rather concerned look on her face, which was never a good thing.

“Still no progress,” she frowned. You felt Alexia take a steadying breath next to you, grabbing your hand once again.

“What does that mean?” She asked.

“Well, we really should be seeing some more progress at this point, especially as the contractions are worsening. It seems your baby girl is a little reluctant to come out today,” the nurse said, trying to ease the tension in the room. “I’ll grab your doctor. It’s possible we’ll start talking about a c section, as it has already been 12 hours with very little progress made, but that is up to your doctor.”

With that, she left the room, and you turned to Alexia with a look of horror on your face. This hadn’t been the plan, this had never been the plan. Your wife was quick to sense your distress, pressing her forehead to yours, and pulling your hand to rest on her chest.

“We are okay. They do these everyday, and you and Mila will be completely safe. I know it is not the plan, but everything is okay, mi amor. I have you, I will not let anything happen to either of you.” She whispered, pressing her lips to yours rather urgently.

Her words calmed you, however ridiculous that was. Alexia had no control over anything happening to you or the baby, not really. She couldn’t do anything if something went wrong, but her promise to keep both of you safe made you feel better regardless. Alexia had never let you down before, and you didn’t see her doing so in the future.

Alexia remained calm, a pillar of strength, while you tried to do so as well. Even when the doctor came in and confirmed that c section would be in the baby’s best interest, as well as yours, you stayed calm, holding on to your wife like your life depended on it.

-------

They were preparing you for the epidural when it happened. The monitor that reflected the baby’s heart rate began to beep loudly, and everyone around you seemed to lose their minds at once.

Your doctor addressed you and Alexia both when she spoke, her voice firm but reassuring. “We need to go, right now. We don’t have time for the epidural, we will put you under general when we get in there. Unfortunately, Ms. Putellas, you cannot be in the room.”

Alexia felt like she was being torn in half, but she knew she had to keep it together, at least until you were out of sight. She nodded, acting more confident and calm than she was, leaning down to leave a soft kiss on your lips.

“Ale,” you choked out, your voice choked with fear.

“All okay, mi amor. Bebé will be here before you know it. I love you, so so much cariño. I will see you soon, vale?”

“Te amo,” you whispered back, pulling her back into as tight of a hug as you could manage, before your bed was being wheeled from the room.

The doctor hung back a moment, addressing your wife as you were brought down to the operating room. “This is routine, Ms. Putellas. We will take good care of your wife, and your baby. Both of them will be brought back to this room as soon as they are ready, so you can wait here. I will have someone bring you updates.”

“Thank you,” Alexia mumbled, trying her best to return the doctor’s smile, as if her entire reason for living hadn’t just left the room without her.

-------

They put you out almost immediately upon arriving at the operating room, putting the mask over your face and having you countdown backwards from 10. Before you hit 8, you were out, the room fading from your vision, the only thought you could manage being a deep, desperate wish for your baby to be okay.

-------

The hospital had strict rules about visitors, something neither you nor Alexia had really minded when choosing where you were going to have the baby. Now, though, as Alexia waited in the hospital room, minutes away from becoming a mom, all she wanted was her own mom.

Pulling out her phone, she clicked her mother’s contact, the line only ringing once before it was picked up.

“Do I have a granddaughter yet?” Eli asked excitedly.

“Mami,” Alexia cried, unable to keep it in any longer.

“Ale, what is it?” Eli asked urgently, knowing instantly from her daughter’s voice that something was wrong.

“The baby’s heart rate dropped and they took them both back for a c-section. I can’t go back because they didn’t have time to do the epidural, and they had to put her under,” Alexia sobbed.

“Oh, mija, everything is going to be alright. They do c sections all the time. Both of them will be just fine.” Eli soothed, shutting her eyes at the pain spiking in her chest at the sound of her daughter’s pained sobs.

Alexia let her mami calm her down before she hung up with a promise to keep her updated. The next hour and a half passed excruciatingly slowly, though the doctor kept her promise, and Alexia was given frequent updates.

She was told when the baby was born, and the joy she felt at the news that Mila was completely healthy, completely safe, fully overshadowed any sadness she felt that she didn’t get to see it. After that update, Alexia took to pacing the room, knowing her baby would be on her way to meet her very soon.

Alexia heard Mila before she saw her, somehow instantly knowing that the soft cry that echoed in the halls was hers. 2 nurses wheeled in the little crib in which Mila was laid, wrapped in a soft yellow blanket, a little pink hat pulled over her head. She was crying, the noise a bit earsplitting, her little limbs kicking out as she tried to convey her dismay.

Alexia had worried, through the whole pregnancy, that she would have a hard time connecting with the baby because she didn’t carry it. All of those worries flew right out the window, though, the minute she laid her eyes on her baby girl.

“Hola mi princesa,” Alexia whispered, completely blind to the smiles on the nurses faces, or the fact that they were taking a video for you. Alexia reached down, very carefully taking the infant into her arms. Mila stopped crying right away, letting out a small sigh as her eyes fell shut, and she dozed right off in her Mami’s arms. There were tears in Alexia’s eyes, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever been this happy in her entire life. Still, though, she thought of you.

“My wife?” She asked the nurse, tearing her eyes away from her baby for just a moment.

“She’s doing great. They’re stitching her up now, and she should be out shortly.”

Alexia thanked the nurse, starting to subconsciously rock on her feet to keep the baby asleep, the nurses once again forgotten, as she took in her baby’s perfect face. “Did you hear that Mila? Your other Mama will be here soon.”

Your wife kept up a running dialogue, saying more at once than she’d potentially ever said in her life, as she waited for you. She texted her family, telling them the good news, before putting her phone down to focus all of her attention on Mila, who she was very sure was the most perfect person on the planet. Aside from you.

------

When you awoke, it was to a rather odd sound. Maybe not odd, but mostly unfamiliar. Alexia’s soft voice filled the room, talking so gently and quietly, that you could barely identify it as belonging to her.

“Sí, and she loves you so much, mi princesa. You are so perfect, Milabear, so so perfect. Just like your Mama.” Alexia cooed, and you were close to tears before you even opened your eyes. When you did, you were greeted with the very beautiful sight of your wife, holding your baby, sitting gently on the edge of the bed. Alexia’s face was bright, thrilled, and she was holding Mila close to her body, her shirt long discarded.

Alexia glanced up at you, as if she had been doing so every couple seconds, her eyes lighting up even more when she saw that you were awake.

“Mi amor!” She said excitedly, “Mila, mira, es Mama,” she told the infant, holding the baby up a little bit so you could see her.

“She’s okay?” You croaked out, throat raw from being intubated.

“She’s the most perfect baby on earth. Do you want to hold her?” Alexia beamed, moving closer and holding Mila out towards you. She could see the brief panic in your eyes, not sure if you were allowed to hold the baby at the moment, if she’d want to be held by you, as she looked so comfortable in Ale’s arms. “It’s okay, you can hold her, the doctor told me.” Alexia assured you. “Here, amor,” she gently pulled the loose gown away from your body, exposing your chest, before carefully laying Mila down on top of you. Mila’s cheek was pressed to your collarbone, and you could feel her soft exhales on your skin.

“Hi, my baby,” you whispered, pressing your lips to her forehead as lightly as you could. “Oh, you are so beautiful.”

You heard a sniff from next to you, and turned to see Alexia watching with tears streaming down her face. This, in turn, made you cry, until Alexia was leaning over you, forehead pressed to yours, Mila perched perfectly in between the two of you.

“Thank you, mi amor, thank you. She’s so perfect, and you kept her so safe and healthy. She’s so perfect because she’s yours, mi niña, and I love you.” She whispered, pressing repeated kisses onto your lips.

“Ale,” you whispered back, guiding her face away so you could wipe a few tears off her face. “She’s perfect because she’s yours, Ale. And because you took such good care of me.”

Alexia simply shook her head, resting a hand on Mila’s back, gazing at you so lovingly, it almost made you cry again. “You did it, and I am so proud of you.” She told you.

It was your turn to shake your head, pulling her closer until you could kiss her, this time. When you broke apart, you looked down at Mila, sleeping peacefully on your chest. She was Alexia’s technically, even though you carried her, and it was so clear to you. You could see Alexia everywhere in her tiny little face. Most of all, you felt it in how much you loved her. “She is the most beautiful girl in the world, like her Mami,” you said, echoing Alexia’s words from earlier. You weren’t sure you’d ever be able to stop looking at Mila. And when you did, it would be to look at Alexia looking at Mila, wearing the same look of pure adoration that you were sure was on your face, too.

In that moment, everything was perfect. Mila was perfect, and Alexia was perfect, and you had an unknown amount of stitches in your abdomen, and you couldn’t quite move your legs yet, but you were perfect too. The three of you, together? You’d always be perfect.

-------

#alexia putellas x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso x reader

727 notes · View notes

satorusugurugurl · 1 month

Note

I know you might have one like this … but can u do a multi fic with jjk boys (gojo geto nanami and toji) where they push their girl to using the safe word.

If this is too similar to ur other fic I get it lol. If it is then can u do a jealous fic for them.

JJK Men: Safe Word

Summary: Things get a little too hot and heavy, and you have to use your safe word!

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Toji, FAB!Reader

Word Count: 2,038

Warnings: Rough sex, mentions of blood, public sex, teasing, boundaries crossed, safe word use, after-care!

A/N: Thank you for the request, Nonnie! I hope you enjoyed it; I know I did. Requests are open!

Gojo Satoru:

“Fuck!” Satoru growled from behind you as his cock slammed in and out of your pussy at a rough pace. “Baby, you feel so fuckin’ good!”

It did feel good. God, you loved it when Gojo fucked you rough. Rough sex was always fun—depending on where you were. You loved it in bed! On the couch, the kitchen, and even the shower. But your private onsen? Yeah, this wasn't exactly it.

“S-Satoru,” You winced out, hands scraping over the rocks of the private hot spring you were in. The pain in your hands stung as the hot water started making you dizzy. “Satoru!”

Your attempts to grab your boyfriend's attention went over his head. You crying out his name meant you must be enjoying yourself. Gojo loved it when you cried and screamed his name. It made his cock throb inside of you. He grabbed the back of your neck, pushing your face against the rocks.

“That’s right, say my fucking name~!! Let everyone here know who fucking you so good that you're crying, Y/N. Take it, take it~!”

Your face stung, the rocks cutting into your delicate skin. The hot water sploshed around as your breasts bounced. Fuck you were dizzy, and your palms were sore. You might pass out, and not in a good way.

“Toru!” you yelled again, tears in your eyes as black spots formed in your vision. “T-Torr—” Hot, too hot, “Toru,” Panic rose as your vision blurred. You had to use it, your safe word. There was no other choice. “Mochi!! Mochi!!”

Instantly, Satoru stopped, pulling away. “What's wrong? Are you okay?!” Concern laced his voice as you weakly tried getting out of the heated water. “Y/N?!” He scooped you up in his arms, carrying you out of the hot spring. “Holy fuck, you're burning up!”

You whine, trying to blink away the black spots, listening as Gojo runs around the room. You sighed in relief as a cold rag was placed on your forehead. The chill felt good against your heated skin, bringing your temperature down slowly but surely. After laying on the ground for a couple of minutes, you slowly opened your eyes, seeing Gojo looming over you, towel around his waist as he fanned you.

“Hey, there you are.” Tossing the fan to the side, he gently examined a couple of scratches on your face. “Fuck, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?”

You tried to get up, only to be shoved back down. “I got so dizzy, and my hands were killing me.” Satoru frowned, grabbing your hands gently and turning them over to examine the red skin littered with tiny cuts. “I'm sorry, Satoru, I just couldn't do it.” your boyfriend shook his head, kissing your palms so softly you barely felt it.

“Don't you even think about apologizing! We have a safe word for a reason.” Satoru sighed in relief, the back of his hand feeling your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, I was way too rough.”

“I don't mind you being rough. Just preferably in bed. Or the kitchen. Or that time in your office.”

Satoru scoffed, shaking his head as he picked you up, carrying you into the room. “You just almost passed out ten minutes ago, and you still like it rough?” He sat you on the bed, taking the rag off your head, heading to rinse it out, and put it back in place.

“I may not be the strongest or the chosen one.” You lay down, watching his toned back flex with laughter as he shook his head. “But you chose me ~ I'm the strongest at making you cum.” The wet rag promptly smacked you in the face. The wet plop had you giggling as the bed dipped.

“Alright, chosen one, lay back down and let me cuddle you.”

Geto Suguru:

“S-Sugu~!.” You gasped out, face pressed into the corner of the small closet you were in. The tiniest fucking closet in the world. And your leggings were around your knees as Suguru humped into you from behind.

“So tight, fuck you're clamping down on me.” Suguru humped faster, pushing you deeper into the tiny constricting corner. “You like this? Like it when I fuck you when people could catch us?”

Usually, yes, you got off on it. But right now, in a coat closet, that was constricting your air, not so much. Your body was tense, legs trembling as waves of nausea washed over you. Your chest felt tight, and you suddenly couldn't breathe all that well. It felt like the closet was getting smaller and smaller, threatening to crush you.

“Y/N fuck~” Your boyfriend whispered. “Are you gonna cum~? You're getting so tight~ Gonna cum on my cock?” Suguru slid his hand up, grabbing your throat and squeezing it. “Let me help.~”

Now, you really couldn't breathe, and it triggered your fight or flight. “Red!” You barked out, clawing at his hand around your throat.

Hearing your safe word, one Suguru never heard you use, had him moving so fast. He released your throat, pulled out, and quickly readjusted both your clothes before opening the door to the closet. He watched in fear as you stumbled out, falling to your knees as you gasped for air.

“Y/N, princess?” His hand gently pressed against your lower back. “Are you okay? What happened? Did I hurt you?”

“N-No!” You gasped out. “I was getting claustrophobic. I couldn't breathe.” Your heart rate slowed down as you turned to face him. His bangs dangled in his face as his dark eyebrows knitted together. “You didn't do anything wrong. It was all me.”

Suguru felt somewhat relieved that he had not been entirely responsible for your use of the safe word. But that didn't stop him from feeling bad. He turned his back to you, motioning for you to climb on.

“Come on, let's get you outside.” You eagerly climb on his back, resting your chin on his shoulder. “This party is lame anyway.”

“Yeah, it is. On the way home, can we get boba?”

“That's a silly question. Of course, we can get boba. Watching you suck down balls would be far more entertaining than this party.”

“If I'm feeling up for it later, can I suck on your balls?”

“We’ll see how you feel later.” God, why was he so caring and perfect? You buried your face in his neck with a happy hum. “Okay, back there, princess?”

“Never better.”

Nanami Kento:

One of Nanami’s favorite things to do when he got back from a mission was to tease you. It started as simply worshiping your body, gentle actresses of skin, and kisses down your neck. The man wanted to retrace every part of you he hadn't gotten to see while he was away.

So this time around, he was paying extra close attention. He had just gotten home from a two-week mission, and he was desperate for your touch. Nanami was gently caressing your arms, your inner thighs, all the way to your dripping pussy. But he never touched your sex. He wanted to savor every inch of you. Taking in the way you whimpered and twitched as his hands trailed over your body.

He could do this for hours.

You gripped the sheets in your hands, whining as Nanami’s fingers drew closer and closer to your clit, but he never touched it. What had started as loving, longing touches had turned into an almost torturous touch. Your legs began to tremble and shake, aching for your fiancè to do something, anything!

“So beautiful~” Nanami whispered as his fingers grazed your inner thigh, all the way up to your pussy. “God, you're so wet.” oh, this was it. He was finally going to touch you! But to your absolute disappointment, he trailed his finger back down to your thigh.

It was too much; you were so turned on it hurt! Covering your eyes, you whimpered in frustration. Nanami focused on your calves, honey-brown eyes transfixed on the soft skin, reveling in the feeling of it when his world crumbled at your soft cry.

“Yellow.”

Nanami whirled his attention back to you, his hand cupping your cheek. “Y/N love, honey, what's wrong?” You said nothing; your bottom lip trembled as you clenched your thighs together. “Y/N, talk to me.” His deep voice was concerned as his eyes focused on you while you pulled your hands from your face.

“I-I can't take it anymore. I need you to touch me, like really touch me; it hurts.”

Nanami’s shoulders slumped down as he sighed in relief. “Oh love, I'm sorry. Was I teasing you too much?” Calloused fingers immediately found your clit, sending you nearly off the bed. “Is that better?” he cooed as his lips pressed against yours as you whined.

“Y-Yes!” You inhaled sharply, eyes going wide as he slid those two fingers inside of your wet heat. “K-Kento!”

“Shh, I got you know, just relax.” But it was hard to relax when he started pumping those thick fingers in and out of your cunt. “I got you.”

Toji Fushiguro:

“Fucking bitch.” You whine as Toji slams into you. “Trying to flirt with you.” your nails dig into the brick wall of the alley Toji fucking you in. Your panties dangle from your ankle as he presses your back harder into the wall. “I'll show them; all of them you belong to me.”

“T-Toji!” you whine out, “please be quiet.” Your eyes darted down the alley. People were talking and walking by. The streets are busy on a Saturday night, and you'd much rather not get arrested for public indecency.

“No.” His teeth clamp down into your neck so hard you scream. “Let them hear, let everyone know who's fucking you so good.” You winced, trying to ignore the anxiety settling in your chest. It would help if you focused on the pained pleasure instead. “You want that? Don't you want the whole city to see you getting fucked like a bitch in heat?”

“I-I—!”

“‘I-I—’ what slut? Use your big girl words.”

“Toji I—I don't—!”

“If you don't tell me what you want, I'll just have to take you to the street and fuck you in front of everyone.” Sharp teeth bit down on your earlobe as a group of people laughed yards away.

Everything hit you at once. Toji’s words, the sound of approaching laughter, the fear. “Red!” His eyes widened as he gently pulled out, placing you on the ground. Just as a group of people walked by. Gripping your dress, you shakily slid down the wall.

“Hey, hey, you okay, Y/N?”

“I—I—” you flushed, putting your panties back on, “I didn't like the way you were acting. I don't like the idea of someone else seeing me like this.” Toji’s face softened as he nodded. “That was too much. Way too much, Toji.”

His face fell. The confusion that was etched into his features was replaced by regret. You were visibly upset, arms wrapping around yourself as you took several deep breaths. You were right. He had gone too far. He was so annoyed with the guys looking at you in the bar that he took it out on you—the last person who deserved to be treated that way.

“Y/N.” His fingers graze your cheek. “I’m sorry, babe. I was so in my head I didn't even consider how you would feel.”

He was being sincere. His cheeks were flushed as you looked at him. He rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced down the alley; for him to apologize like this meant a lot. Toji wasn't the best when it came to using his words.

He flinched as you fell forward into his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist. “You dummy.” He scoffed, wrapping his arms around you and leading you down the alley to the street.

“Come on, brat, let’s get you home. I'll snuggle the fuck out of you as an apology.”

“Can I be the big spoon?” You asked, leaning into his side as you walked.

He snorted a laugh, his hand holding your hip, pulling you tighter against him. “You sure can.”

749 notes · View notes

luveline · 8 months

Note

hi! your stories are so captivating😍 Thank you so much for doing them!

If you feel inspired I would love to see a story of Spencer x badass reader where she physically defends him from an unsub and/or verbally from someone they are working with like a cop or something

tysm! ♡ 1k

Sweat drips into your eye.

It follows a line down your cheek like a teardrop and hits your swat vest with a thud. Quiet has settled with the heat, a blanket encompassing everything, your one drop of sweat enough to give you away. The unsub stills at his computer screen, white light bouncing against his jaw. He looks up like he's looking for rain.

He turns right first. He sees Spencer.

"FBI," Spencer announces steadily.

You point your weapon at his chest. "Put your hands up and stand against the wall."

Cory doesn't look like he's going to surrender so easily. "You have three children upstairs," you say, though it's not true. The children sit outside in foil blankets, and with any luck they'll be taken somewhere safer before the arrest. "Three young children who love you. What do you want them to think of you now? Come peacefully."

Cory's face rippled with rage quickly masked. He sits back from his computer and pauses. Then, slowly, he puts his hands against the wall.

"Reid," Morgan instructs, at your left, his gun similarly trained.

Spencer moves forward to handcuff him. It's not your normal routine but it isn't out of your jurisdiction, quieter arrests often mean you act as cops rather than full-fledged agents. "Cory Harrison, you are under arrest for the homicide of Tara Harrison. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say–"

The handcuffs clink as they're whipped from Spencer's grasp, one cuff open, the other closed around Cory's wrist, the links brought unapologetic to the pale curve of Spencer's throat.

Spencer grabs for his gun. Cory pulls the cuffs tight, forcing Spencer closer to his chest and choking the air from his throat.

You reposition your aim. Another drop of sweat curves past your eyebrow. The basement humidity and your panic threaten to blind you.

"Let him go," Morgan says sharply.

"I'll shoot you if I have to."

Cory scoffs at you. "And shoot through string bean?"

You tense your finger against the trigger of your glock. "I have good aim," you say simply.

You have no intention of firing. Cory has a standard issue pair of handcuffs to his discretion. He isn't big or muscled enough to kill Spencer bare-handed, not quickly, and he's on unsure footing.

You step closer. Cory snarls. "Stay back. I'll kill him, you stupid bitch–"

Men. Cory killed his defenceless wife with rohypnol and a rope and now he thinks he can win a fight against two agents trained extensively (admittedly one more than the other) in defence. He's lucky Spencer's in the way —you would've attempted to push his nose into his brain. As it stands, you hook your leg between his and Spencer's, your teammate more than aware of the manoeuvre you're about to pull. With one hand you pull the cuff links cruelly up against Spencer's neck but away, most importantly, allowing him the room to dive from Cory's grasp, and with the other you tuck your gun out of Cory's reach. His arms up, his stomach open, you pull your leg behind his knee and grate your foot down his calf.

He collapses to the floor. You stomp your foot into his groin.

Morgan saves you the chore of cuffing him a second time. He reads the Miranda Rights by heart as you catch your breath, stepping back into Spencer's open hands.

You relax at his touch. He's alright, he–

"Did I hurt you?" you ask, spinning on your heel.

Spencer pouts at you, irked at being worried after. "Of course you didn't."

"Your neck, I almost choked you like he was," you say, mindful of the agents and specialists flooding the room to secure the crime scene and any evidential material.

Spencer lifts his chin. "Doesn't hurt."

There's a rubbed red line up the column of his throat, but it could be worse. You finally wipe the sweat from your face, exhausted and ecstatic that you got the bad guy.

"Come on," Spencer says.

You follow him outside. In the grass yard waits medical, parked along the entirety of the street stands law enforcement. Hotch nods at you as you return and you take it as a job well done, slouching against the side of a cop car to take a breather.

"You okay?" Spencer asks.

You grab for his hand without looking at him. His fingers are warm, neat as they slot through yours. "Why do they always pick on you?" you ask.

Hotch's voice startles you, but you don't take back your hand. "They underestimate him," he says. "And you. Do you need anything? You're looking…"

"I'm fine." You're tired, too hot, and the short-lived adrenaline of a confrontation is crashing. "Thanks, Hotch."

He trudges away. Spencer draws closer as you bend forward, his hand on your back. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"No, I feel awful. I feel sick," you confess.

He's the only person you'd ever admit it to. You crave his comfort. Spencer must read your mind (or more likely, the twitch of your sore back), his hand landing in the space between your shoulders as he crowds you. "That makes sense. High stress situations make us nauseous because of the fight or flight response. Our body's aren't good at keeping neurotransmitters where they're meant to be. Adrenaline mostly, but cortisol too. It's probably the norepinephrine that's making you feel sick."

"How do I make it calm down?"

"Just take a deep breath," he says, rubbing your back.

You breathe in and out until the sick feeling subsides. Spencer prompts you into standing tall.

"You know everything," you say fondly, touching his elbow. "Thank you."

He nudges you. "Thank you for defending me."

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

1K notes · View notes

lady-ashfade · 8 months

Text

Mates By Fate

Various Hybrid!Characters x Human!Fem!Reader.

Plot: The adoption center is filled with many different hybrids from all sorts. But when one gets a whiff of your scent that they can’t help but get excited to see you.

Characters: Rabbit!Izuku midoriya, Wolf!Katsuki Bakugo, Dog!Eijiro Kirishima, Cat!Shoto Todoroki

Warnings: quick adoption, licking, love at first sight, mention of dark past, not much.

Rabbit! Izuku Midoriya

The building was filled with all types of noises, from barks to meows, even some growls. Some hybrids were out playing and doing their own things, some playing in groups outside or maybe they enjoyed their own company. Izuku was watching a movie that had come on just in time for his break. All hybrids get a break from the others to focus on themselves if needed, and he decided to watch his favorite movie. Super Hybrid: All might. Oh, how he adored the movie and the man it was about. His room filled with decorations of Allmight himself, posters on every wall.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off the screen when the scene came on. Allmight fighting a bad guy, his tail smacking him around from place to place. It was like watching it for the first time, he was on the edge of his seat cheering at the screen for his hero. Not much could get his attention away from this movie, so when a scent came into his nose it peaked his interest. What was that smell? So sweet, soft yet bold, how could something smell so perfect? His flappy ears stood up and his attention drew to the hallway where his door was cracked open. Grabbing the remote be paused the movie and walked to the door.

He poked his head out slowly to see what was going on and if he could find the source of the smell. Then he saw the owner of the adoption center in the middle of the hallway, then a woman standing next to her about three doors down. A hybrid with droopy ears likes his but brown, the hybrid rubbed her head against the new woman’s hand as she smiled. When he saw you, he felt the world crash onto him with a kick to the chest.

Mate.

The words rang through his head and made his body tense up at the thought of having you in his life. But, he couldn’t have a mate? And not someone as pretty as you? He cheeks heated up while staring at you with wide eyes frozen in the doorway to his room. He could hear your conversation but didn’t truly listen, the words sounding like muffles to him. But a few seconds later your head turned when the owner said something and you looked right at him.

He yelps and slips back into his room quickly from being caught and your attention. His heart raced as fast as it could go as he panicked over every detail. Did you really see him? Was he imagining you here? What if this was a dream and he’d wake up mateless again? What if you don’t want him as a mate anyway? So many questions ran through his speedy head and made him panic.

“Izuku,” the old woman’s sweet voice called him out of his thoughts as she walked into the open room. “We have a visitor, like to meet them?” Your frame shuffled into the room and waved softly, the smile on your lips look like heaven. All he could do is stare and mumble nervously with words you couldn’t understand.

“He’s shy, but he’s a good hybrid to have around.” You nodded and reached into your pocket and his attention calmed down at the other scent he loved. Treats. A brown little heart shaped treat rest in your hands and pushed it towards him. “Hello, Izuku. My names Y/n.” The name engraved itself into his brain. The excitement finally washed over him and shot throughout his body, making him so happy that his leg started to tap and take the treat into his mouth.

He was so happy as he chew and you watched his nose crinkle with each bite, his happy feet bouncing. You giggled at the sight, he was your favorite by far. “I’ll let you have some time with him, seeing as he’s your perfect match. I shall be just outside with the other hybrids, call if you need anything.” She bowed and walked out the room.

You look at izuku and a nervous smile spread your face as he inched closer, no threatening gestures but with a curious look. His noses sniffed around your hand and up your wrists, he looked so focused. Then he nudged his faces across it like he was petting himself and your heart exploded. He looked so happy and relaxed with your touch.

“Mate.” He muttered and you froze up. Did he say that or was it a mistake…Mate? That’s interesting but you can’t help but feel like it was right. “Tell me, do you want me to take you home?” He jumped up and hugged your leg and you almost fell. Laughing you reach down to pet this hair.

He was interesting, he couldn’t get himself off of you. But he was perfectly sweet.

Wolf! Katsuki Bakugo

Katsuki is wasn’t one for social interaction, especially with new people he had just meet. Whenever someone came to look at the hybrids he wouldn’t let them get near and just walk off or give them attitude. He was adopted once before and it was the worst time of his life, humans were cruel and he knew damn well they couldn’t put up with him. So he put off the idea that he would find someone nice enough.

Kats didn’t get along with the other hybrids, only a selected group he allowed near him. If he wasn’t hanging around them then he was outside in the shade, or playing with a chew toy that need to be replaced each day. He loved to be outside a few hours because he had a lot of energy he couldn’t release inside. Today he decided to take a break and lay on the ground to take a quick nap, the shade and sun making him tired. Then, his nose picked up a scent. Shooting his head up from his resting place his head looked around for the scent he was smelling.

This wasn’t food, it wasn’t like anything he’s ever smelled before. It was the perfect smell for him. He craved to get near the source. So he stood up and looked around, his tail wagging behind him. Big and thick with blonde and white with brown tips like his ears. “Shit.” He smelled it out and followed trail. A beautiful laugh caught his ears and he looked up to see a woman smiling with the owner, a hybrid getting their head pat. Her. It was coming from her.

Mate. Claim. Mate.

She was his mate, his tail wagged harder but his head gave him trouble. He didn’t need a mate, and not a shitty human at that. What was she trying to do? He’s a alpha and not some pet she could keep in her house- But he wanted it. To be close to her at every second to keep he safe and sound. He groaned and fell close to the ground and behind the flowers, the garden being filled with big places with high planted flowers. It was easy for him to crawl closer without being caught, after all it was in his blood to hunt.

He got closer and watched for a second. “I’ll leave you to look around, I know of a few hybrids out here. A snake one, he’s usually in the trees and many others.” She smiles and took the cat hybrid inside, leaving you alone. Smiling to yourself and straighten your blouses then walk over to the flowers, smelling them. Bakugo wiggled his body and got ready to pounce on you, why? He just felt like it. But when you giggled and looked over at his direction he froze in shock and confusion.

“There’s a mirror wall behind you,” you look a seat on the bench beside you. “But don’t be discouraged, you would of had me.” The lighthearted tone in your voice made him heat up, and your smile with no anger in it. He rolled his eyes and stood up, inching closer to you with a glare, a low growl leaving his lips to imitate you with fear. You only smiled and pulled out a big threat, a bone shaped one.

“I apologize if I offended you, it was not my intention.” Standing up slowly you tossed the treat softly before him. “But I hope you’ll take this treat as a apology, great wolf.” His ego built up at your praise and felt better. He took the treat and took a few bites. While he was focused on the treat you backed up to leave him alone, not wanted to anger him. Wolfs can be very territorial when it comes to it, so you wouldn’t egg him in.

“I didn’t say go, damn human.” His tough voice caught you off guard. You turned around to see him soften his glare and look at the bench you once sat at. “Sit.” You smirked for a second and walked back to the bench and did as he said. He was adorable. You stuck out your hand for him to sniff and he hesitated, looking up at you like asking permission or to get a read on you. But you only flashed him a eye closing smile.

His noses poked your hand and sniffed all around to take in your scent in, and his body turned into mush. Your scent, he craved it. “Damn, of course it be a human.” He huffed and crossed his arms. You looked at him confused, “Hmm?” Kats rolled his eyes hard and pointed at you, “Mate.” He enjoyed how you looked at him in shock and flustered.

“Now, go get the paper work done so I can leave. I wouldn’t let anyone leave with you today wether you like it or not.” His tail stomped the ground as his teeth really showed to threaten the people he thought of. “Well? Go!” You giggled and rushed away from the shouting hybrid, a rough one.

He was demanding and didn’t care. He however, was loving on the way to your house so you didn’t mind.

Shoto Todoroki

Shoto is a hybrid that likes to take naps, his cat like nature is strong. The sunlight can make him fall asleep anywhere, no matter the place. He also loves to climb up on things to take a nice nap, mostly on a cat like tree they have for hybrids. He also has a scratching problem but not in a bad way, he just needs to stretch often. Those are the things he does in a day. Wake up, scratch, eat, Nap, scratch and then repeat. However he does hang out with some hybrids on occasion.

Today Shotos place of choice was in front of the art rooms door, so close to getting hit if someone opened the door fully. The hybrid didn’t notice this when he went to sleep or he would have scooted a bit further. You wanted to explore the place and decide to check the art room to see what’s it was like. When you opened the door you didn’t see the hybrid behind you, only a tail that curled and swung slowly. Stopping and not pushing the door any further you walked through the gap and poke your head around to see the hybrid laying there.

His hair mix toned, red and white. His tail thin but long, white fur all the way down. But his ears matched the hair on each side, he was gorgeous. You smile and push all the way in the room and close the door as quietly as you can, trying not to startle him. Kneeling down a few inches from him you start to call out softly for him to walk up. Clinking your tongue, “Little buddy, wake up please.” You repeated that line over and over. But he wasn’t little, only a small frame but you could see the muscles he had and how tall he was.

He slowly opened his eyes with a yawn, confused on what was going on. When he noticed you his demeanor changed slight. His face dropping and staring you, with almost a cold glare. Chuckling to not be afraid you step back, “Sorry, I just didn’t want you to get hurt. You were sleeping in front of the door.” You glanced at the door and showed him what you meant. But he didn’t stop staring at you with a unreadable expression.

Shoto was freaking out inside. Your scent drove him insane, one he wanted to run and nuzzle up to. He couldn’t look away from your pretty face or he would have. What was this? Had you have some sort of magic to bewitched him? Why was his body on fire? He had so many emotions and non of them made sense. Until his mouth started to water..

Mate.

The clicking sound echoed through his brain when he realized what you were to him. A mate. Fate was funny about bringing people together and he didn’t have to find you, you found him. “Hello?” You waved a hand in front of your face as he continued to be silent and frozen. He blinked finally and you felt relieved. “Call me shoto.” You hummed at the calming tone. “Y/n.” You reached out your hand with a smile. Of course he couldn’t hold himself back from taking it and sniffing you.

Your scent was so nice to smell, calming but made his blood pump. You had weird affects on his body. You watch him sniff you and it made you laugh as he kept hitting his nose against the center. He was booping his own nose. Then he did something unexpected and licked your hand softly. To give affection he kept doing it, small licks. Nothing more to the eyes. Only he did it to get his scent on you.

“Adopt me.” He look up at you blankly and you were taken aback by his boldness. “We just met, don’t you want to get a know me first?” You asked. Most hybrids take a week at least before getting comfortable with a owner, or at least a whole day. “I know all I need, you are my mate of course.” He nuzzled against your hand as his tail swayed around smoothly.

“Mates?” You questioned but couldn’t help but rub his cheek, he purred so loudly you could feel it. “Hmm, smell you. Us hybrids have mates, or some do and mine is you.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “Now, I’m tired. Could you go get everything done so I can’t go back to napping?”

You took shoto home that night and he fell asleep on your nap. Followed you around the house with his head in your shoulders.

Eijiro Kirishima

Kiri likes to be with other hybrids and people, a social butterfly if you will. He always has a smile on his face to cheer and play with the others, the big brother of the estate. His dream is to one day have a forever home with a family that loves him but worries about being worthy. Despite always tell the others they’d get adopted or cheer them up, he felt the same way. But he puts it off and has fun instead, he’s very active. They had to build a new playground area just for him and hybrids like him who are rough but playful.

Kiri today was in the playroom all by himself and it saddens him, no one to play with. He’d have the rope in his mouth and swing it around almost like a weapon. Or jumping around from the bars to places, or his favorite. Catch. They had a device to throw the ball automatically and he loved it, almost as much as someone actually throwing him the ball. Kiri watched the ball get shot out and hit the table making it change direction to the door. To his surprise the door opened just as the ball rolled on the floor and stop between someone’s leg. His mind focused on the ball he chased after it.

His legs ran to catch the small object and only to be caught in another trance caused by a smell, a delicious smell. Stopping in his tracks he froze and looked up at the person at the door who now looked at the ball between her feet. A smile spread on her lips when she bent down to pick it up. The smell was coming from her. Was it a treat in her pocket? What flavor was it? That smell was heaven to his nose, like it was made just for him.

Mate.

Giggling you looked at the pup in front of you, a grip on the ball “Want me to throw it?” You wiggled it slightly. Thump thump. The sound of his huge fluffy tail hit the floor as he panted quietly. He was so excited. “Get it.” You threw it past him and made sure not to hit anything but far for him to have fun. He leaped up and chased after it, so fast and quick. It was cute to watch him bite the ball and chew down on it slightly then look back at you. He pranced back to you with his tail wagging, a pride filled aura as he puffed out his chest.

He dropped the ball at your feet and sat back on the floor, his tongue sticking out. “Awe, such a good boy.” You reached down to pet his head but gave him enough time to pull away if he’d like. But he didn’t so your hand patted the red hair, slightly touching the ears on his head. “My names Y/n.” Without a warning he jumps up and knocks you down, leaning onto of you and starts to lick across your face. His hands on your chest and tail making a breeze.

You laughed and tried to move but he didn’t let up on his actions. You smelled too good. You called him a good boy. A perfect mate for him. He leaned up and didn’t let his hands up from your stomach. “Eijiro Kirishima.” His smile was so wide you saw his teeth that looked perfectly white and sharp. Taking a breath you smile up at the hybrid you just met. “Nice to met you.” He jumped off you and waited for you to get up.

When you did you brushed off yourself and whipped your face off. Kiri stood up finally and you looked up at him, he was one of the biggest hybrids you have ever seen. Blushing at his height you giggled, he was just a huge puppy. “Are you here to adopt?” He asked, his ears and tail stopping and going down. You could tell he was sad and you wondered why.

“Yes, I am.” You see him look at the floor and a sad smile grew on his face. “They’d be luck to have you.” The heart in your chest shattered at his tone, so quick to dismiss himself. “Would you be willing to get adopted? I was looking for a dog hybrid…If you’re willing.” Kiri’s head shit up and his body started to wage and bounce. The sparkle in his eyes reappeared and his happiness coming back.

The next thing you know his arms are wrapping themselves around you and pulling you closer, his tongue licking your cheek. You patted his head, “I’ll take that as a yes.” You didn’t expect to meet the hybrid of your dreams on the first day of looking but here he was. “Mate, going home with my mate.” His words made you tense up. Mate? Does he think you’re his mate… Why doesn’t that not sound wrong?

“Okay, let’s go so I can go to the office.” He whined and hugged you closer. His head rested on your shoulder and he refused to let you go, he had a person for the first time. Too soon to let go. “You can come with him, but I need to walk.” He felt your chest vibrate with laughter and he huffed. His arms let your waist go but hooked on your arm instead.

You didn’t expect him to be so clingy and protective over you but that’s what he was. You’re now his home. But there’s no other pup for you.

2K notes · View notes