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anniesocsandgeneralstore · 2 years

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Come over here and overwhelm me + in the bed of a truck while stargazing prompt!

just put me in my coffin i can't that's so cute

prompt: in the bed of a truck while stargazing

word count: 1254

warnings: EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI (dilf!hangman, married people still very in love, unprotected pinv, creampie, mentions of getting caught, mention of creaming pants) this turned into way more dialogue and story than I first intended but it's cute so fight me

"This is nice," Ronnie commented as she stared up at the sky full of stars.

She had watched them plenty from their backyard. But this was different. Jake drove out to the farthest pasture after their dinner in town, revealing the reason for all the pillows and blankets in the bed of his truck. So many stars were more visible out in the Texas plains - so many more than she ever got to see on the California coast. And it was made even better by the fact that her husband laid right beside her in the bed of his truck, his fingers laced between her own as they counted those little pinpricks of light.

Jake turned his head to look at her, "D'you say somethin'?"

She smiled at him fondly. Most people didn't notice them. That little bit of plastic and metal now sat in his ears. Jake preferred it that way. For people not to really know that he needed them. Even though he did admit to turning them off during boring meetings.

She guessed as a two-star Admiral he could get away with that sort of thing.

Turning onto her side, she spoke directly at him for the aids to better catch the sound, "I said this is nice."

"Yeah, no kids, all the time in the world," Jake replied as he looked back up towards the stars, one arm propped up behind his head. "It's so quiet."

"It's beautiful," she corrected with a grin. "Thank you for doing this, Jay."

He looked back at her with a small smile, something quiet and loving in it that still made her heart melt. "My pleasure, sweets."

Ronnie just couldn't help it. Not when her husband looked so inviting. In that button-up shirt with the top few undone, hair jelled into place, a few greys shining through on his temples, and having worked so hard to still make her fill special even after all those years. She scooted in closer to him, her front pressed into his side. Putting a hand to his cheek to get him to look at her, she kissed him - soft and sweet.

They both smiled into it. But when Ronnie tried to pull away, go back to stargazing, Jake chased her lips with a soft whine at the back of his throat.

She cocked a brow at him, "Really, Seresin? Out here?"

"Mm, can't help it." He rose up onto his elbows and quickly turned the tables on her, with her now flat on her back and him leaning over her with a hand on her throat. "You look so damn gorgeous in this dress. In everything. All the time."

He slotted his thigh between her legs as he leaned down and pressed his lips to her own. It was slow and steady but full of desire, each of them moaning into each other's mouths and hands wandering. Jake hitched up the fabric of her sundress as he pressed more of his weight into her, his own arousal poking into her thigh. Their kisses turned wet and sloppy, nearly desperate - Ronnie's fingers clawing at the back of his shirt and his wide palm squeezing her breast. The building pressure in her core became too much as she ground against his jean-clad thigh. Ronnie moaned something broken around Jake's tongue in her mouth.

He pulled away from her panting, but his mouth didn't stop. He dragged his lips along her jaw and down the column of her throat messily. Leaving a trail of spit that cooled in the night air.

"I feel like a teenager," Ronnie laughed breathlessly as her hands pushed into his hair. "Making out with a boyfriend I'm not supposed to have."

He pulled away from her neck with a soft pop, leaving behind a red spot that made him smirk. "Oh, yeah? Think we're gonna get caught, darlin'?"

A thrill ran up her spine at the thought. But it also made her laugh. There was no one for miles around except maybe some cattle. That thought too, of looking up to see a cow stupidly watch them, made her giggle as Jake kissed down her chest. But it was cut off by a soft little noise as he mouthed the top of her breasts that were revealed by the neckline of her dress.

"Mm, Jay," she whispered into the night sky as her hips bucked against him.

Slowly, he made his way back up to her lips. He smirked as he muttered, "I think I've gotten better at this since I was a teenager."

"I sure hope so." She stopped to kiss him hungrily as he began to grind his hips into her own, creating that perfect amount of friction. "I can compare notes with Molly Parker next time I see her."

Jake stopped moving as he stared down at her with a furrowed brow. "You're friends with Molly Parker?"

"Sort of - " Ronnie huffed as she tried to wiggle against his weight, get that friction going again, but it was to no avail. "Her kid and Noah have soccer together. We talk sometimes."

"What else did she tell you?"

Ronnie shrugged. "That you used to date." Then she grinned wickedly. "That you creamed your pants while making out with her junior year."

"Jesus," he groaned, face dropped into her shoulder.

Ronnie could only laugh. She could picture it perfectly. Baby Jake Seresin at his first high school party, making out with a girl on a basement sofa, and he just can't help it. He cums in his jeans. And it makes something inside her go feral as she snakes a hand between them. She palmed him through his trousers now, making him groan again as he bucked into her hand.

She continued to work him through his jeans, his hips chasing her hand as he rocked against it. His breath came out in short pants that heated her shoulder.

"Think I can make you do it now?" she whispered, almost darkly, directly into his ear. It made something like a whine form in his throat. She felt him twitch beneath her fingers. "Think I can make you cum just like this?"

"Mm, yes," he moaned out brokenly, then he shook his head. "But I wanna feel you...Baby, please."

She couldn't deny him that. Not when her own need was slick between her thighs. So she reluctantly drew her hand away from his now painfully hard member. After that, Jake was quick to undo his belt and the zipper on his jeans. Pushing it all down just enough for his cock to spring free. Ronnie bit her lip as she watched a bit of precum leak from his angry red tip. Jesus, she had gotten him riled up. Jake dragged her panties down her legs but left her dress on, bunched up around her waist. Too impatient to get any of their other clothes off.

He sunk into her slowly, almost reverently. Their twin moans loud and carefree with no one around - the stars as their witness.

"Shit, always so tight for me," Jake grunted as he started a steady pace.

One that rocked the truck beneath them with squeaks and metal clangs.

"Jay," Ronnie breathed, fingers tight in his hair.

The stretch was delicious, even after all this time. His pelvis ground against her clit with each thrust that sent sparks flying up her spine. Ronnie fought to keep her eyes open, to gaze up at the heavens as Jake brought them down to her.

send in a location and an au

#annie answers #smut prompts #writing prompts #oc: ronnie bradshaw #fic: come over here and overwhelm me #fic: what happens in texas stays in texas #fd: top gun #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman #jake hangman seresin x oc #jake seresin x oc #hangman x oc #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake seresin imagine #hangman imagine #jake seresin x ronnie bradshaw #dilf!hangman

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dawnslight-aegis · 7 months

Text

21. grave

Estinien sighed as he stared down at the list in his hand, comparing the messily-scrawled kana on the parchment to the signs around the market. 'Twould be a great deal easier on his barely-functional grasp of Hingan if the woman who had written the damned list was close at hand to translate the last few ingredients they needed, but Marz had disappeared sometime between buying herbs and arriving at the fruit stalls, leaving him to decipher her handwriting on his own.

Finally making an educated guess that the last entry was what Eorzeans knew as a mango, he had a few sent to the Shiokaze Hostelry with the rest of the supplies they'd procured.

Why he had been wrangled into accompanying her on a trip across the star for what amounted to grocery shopping, when the twins or Kaede could have kept her company just as easily, Estinien did not know, but it was often easier to go along with Marz's whims than fight them. Besides, Mor Dhona had grown quite dull over the past moon, and he welcomed the chance to stretch his legs, so to speak.

Their task concluded, the dragoon turned his attention to finding his erstwhile companion. Fortunately xaela were not much more of a common sight in Kugane than they were in Eorzea, and he was able to pick up her trail as it led from a flower stall to the nearby waterfront. After that, all he had to do was look down, and he found her easily, small dark form curled in on itself on the edge of a pier, her calves half-submerged in cold salt water.

A single jump had him landing on the wooden slats behind her, but she did not stir at the sound as she stared out to the west, towards the unbroken horizon of the Ruby Sea.

When his shadow fell over her, she finally spared him the briefest glance before returning her attention to the bouquet of flowers in her hands. "Have I ever told you how my tribe buries their dead?"

The morbid question caught him briefly off guard, but then several things began to slot neatly into place – Marzanna's sudden desire to cook one of her family's traditional meals for the Scions, the insistence that it be today, and the necessity of coming all the way to Kugane just for the correct ingredients. Grief was what was pushing her forward today, which made even her preference for his company over the others' make sense.

Very few people knew what it was like to lose both everything and everyone that made you who you were, to be the last person left to remember.

So he sat down on the pier next to her, unlacing his boots and setting them aside with his lance, rolling up the cuffs of his trousers to dangle his feet in the water next to hers, the way he used to do on warm summer days as a boy. "No. You haven't."

She idly ran her fingers over the petals of the orchids, voice quiet. “My people believe that the ocean and the sea of souls are connected, and to return a body to the water is to return their soul to the great flow, as well. And that when we touch the sea, our ancestors are all around us. So to do that, we bind their bodies with reed ropes, adorn them with shells and flowers, say the words, and then take them to rest at the seafloor, weighed down with stones so they do not return to us too soon.”

‘Twas a far cry from Halone’s halls, indeed, but it struck him as kinder, as well. No great deeds or valour required, no fear of the seven hells to separate one’s kin. No graves to visit, though, save the ocean, which was cradle as well.

She paused for long enough that he thought perhaps she was waiting for him to respond, when the words wrenched themselves free. “I ran out of flowers by the time I buried my mama. Orchids were her favorite. I wish I’d been able to do it right.”

The grief in her voice was palpable, painful. It had been bad enough, to find his parents, his little brother, his entire village lost to stone and flame – he hadn’t had to bury them himself. The Temple Knights had seen to that. He’d had somewhere to go, as much as he’d loathed the city at first. There were people who knew his story, if not his face, but Marzanna…

How many dozen of corpses had she had to swim to the seafloor, in the wake of what the Garleans did to her people? How long had it taken her? He couldn’t fathom the exhaustion, the way something so brutal must have become banal in the repetition.

And then to come to Eorzea after, to leave her lost tribe for foreign shores, where there was no one who looked or sounded like home – well. ‘Twas a small wonder she had been so angry, when they’d first met. Angry enough that even Nidhogg took notice, despite there being not a drop of Ratatoskr’s blood in her veins.

Were he anyone else, he might have given her empty platitudes, about how he was sure her mother forgave her for being unable to attend to the rites the way tradition dictated, but Estinien knew better. Such words did nothing to assauge the guilt of the living, only breathing life to resentment. Instead, he nodded. “Next time, we should bring some Nymeia lilies, as well. If you think should would have liked them.”

The Spinner’s favorite flower, which he had left at too many graves – the memorial at Ferndale, the gates of Azys Lla, the depths of Sohr Khai – it wasn’t Marz’s people’s tradition, but Eorzea was part of her now, too. Perhaps if the flowers reached her mother, the woman’s spirit would be gladdened to see that Marz had found herself a new family.

“I… Yeah. Okay. That sounds… nice.” The side of Marz’s head rested lightly against his upper arm, and they sat there in silence for long moments, as the sun disappeared beneath the waves, the crimson of sunset fading into the violet of dusk. When no sliver of sunlight remained, Marz dropped the bouquet into the water with a murmured invocation to Nhaama and a “happy nameday, mama,” before rising to her feet. One small, tattoo’d hand curled around his shoulder as she used him for balance to put her sandals back on. By the time they were secured, the melancholy was nearly buried again, in whatever grave in her heart she normally kept it. “C’mon. We should get back, if I’m going to make dinner. It may be morning in Mor Dhona, but some of the dishes take a few bells.”

Estinien rose, picking up his boots in one hand and lance in the other, shadowing Marz back to the Hostelry. “Dare I ask what you’re making?”

A small smile, not quite one of her usual grins, but more genuine than he’d expected, brightened her face. “It’s a surprise. Though, in case you were wondering – I did buy some squid, just for you. As repayment for coming with me.”

“Oh, aye? You might have mentioned that sooner, you know.”

“What, and miss out on you grousing about carrying my groceries for me?” Her husky voice tilted more towards teasing than anguish, and Estinien accepted the jab with a small, half hidden smile as they collected their provisions and set out for the aetheryte, and from thence to Eorzea.

Home, for both of them.

#wow I sure am glad I had a silly one between this one and weal because WHEW #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite 2023 #tales from the dusk #we were slaves to any semblance of touch

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arctobicwrites · 2 years

Text

Arc one - Watching

Hopper, vigilante of east Suoen, swings her legs on the edge of the narrow ledge running below the billboard, unworried at the height. It’s her favourite spot to take a break when in costume, and she has 5 more minutes before going back on patrol.

Earlier she ran into Bagufeisu again, while she was holding up a shop. Her meta-ability, Centipede, which gives Bagu many extra limbs and a lovely shiny carapace, doesn’t give her much in the way of manoeuvrability or job prospects. It is technically illegal to discriminate against people due to their ability, but Bagufeisu doesn’t want to go to the authorities after what happened to her father. Poor guy. The family is still paying hospital bills. The last time Hopper had seen Bagu she had gotten a below table job, something about deliveries. Hopper gathered that had fallen through from the impromptu robbery she broke up. Seriously, who uses a lighter to holds up a shop? Even worse, who falls for that? The whole thing had ended when Hopper had recommenced a few more places to try that were still looking for new hires, and Bagufeisu had left, even though they both knew how unlikely it would be for her to get a job.

Now Hopper is tired, after stopping two other muggings less peacefully, breaking up a minor drug deal, escorting a guy with a meta-ability that made him resemble a badger back home and enduring the whole ‘vigilantism and public meta-ability use is illegal’ spiel from the police when she called in the mugger. Strictly speaking, they should be arresting her, or at least trying to identify her, but with how poorly funded and unequipped they were for dealing with villains in this area, they’re not going to turn down what basically amounted to a volunteer professional hero.

She leans back, head pressing against the rather garish billboard. It’s bright and gaudy, a stark contrast to the buildings around it. ‘Ratchet, hero of iron is patrolling near you!’ is emblazoned in grey bubble letters, with the hero doing a dramatic pose to the left of it. The effect is ruined by the spray paint messily smeared over the board. Particularly notable is the word ‘LIAR’ dripping red over the hero’s chest. It’s not so unspoken knowledge that official heroes tend to stick near the wealthier areas, due to the high concentration of news stations, and part of their pay depending on the amount of news coverage a fight generates but saying you’re going to patrol somewhere and just not is a new low. If she was the more investigative type, Hopper would definitely help some investigative reporters ruin Ratchet’s reputation, but unfortunately, she has no idea where to start with that kind of stuff.

She straightens and starts scanning the rooftop while idly sipping mint tea. There’s a flicker of movement on the rooftops in front of her. Squinting, she sees a dark blur disappear behind a chimney.

Hopper knows she’s not the only vigilante in Suoen. There was that guy called the Fly who covered the north and west before he suddenly disappeared. Sparkplug, who patrolled in the school holidays and tested countless inventions on anybody unlucky enough to commit crime in front of them. And probably quite a few more that only the criminals they fought knew about. But there are no others in the east, her patrol area.

She spots it again. A figure dressed in a grey darker than hers clambers on top of the roof of a small seedy café. For a brief moment, they lock eyes.

The figure is first to break eye contact, sprinting for the edge of the roof. They disappear off the edge into the small alleyway behind the café. Hopper scrambles upright, drink abandoned.

Hopper reaches for her ability, mentally noting the flat surface of the billboard behind her as mental hands tugged at the flat space on the café window, drawing the space itself on the flat surface behind her, like stretching a rubber band. In an instant the elastic tension relaxed, the rubbery space from the windows position slotting into place. Hopper grinned as she fell backwards into the warp portal her ability made behind her, emerging in an instant in a roll on to the pavement next to the window. If the figure in dark grey wanted to run, she was down for a chase.

She charges around the corner, entering the back alley behind the café just in time to see the dark figure disappear around a corner. She tugs the wall at the end of the alley under her feet, feels it click and falling, then rolling upright.

It’s a dead end. A dumpster, a few dirty windows. No sign of the figure in dark grey. Hopper ignores the twang of disappointment. It would be nice to have someone to watch her back.

Six days on from when she saw the dark figure, she is violently reminded of that sentiment. She is limping through the back alleys as fast as she can, with her blue scarf and medical mask stuffed in the pockets of a ratty cardigan she didn’t mind bleeding on- she can’t afford to be Hopper now, not with a knife in her leg. So Iriguchi Ugoki hobbles down the alleyways in twilight gloom.

She could go to an actual hospital, but she didn’t know if they were in the CHR’s pockets, and they tended to ask tricky questions like ‘where did that knife come from’ and ‘what were you doing outside at 6 in the morning’. And going to her parent’s private doctor would be admitting defeat- that she couldn’t function on her own.

She bites down a hiss as she brushes the knife accidently. Some guy had a teleporting meta-ability that negated his momentum. A perfect (or imperfect) storm that could counter her strategies. She’s lucky that he was focused on getting away, and unlucky that the knife had been aimed at the thinner part of her motorcycle leathers.

She frowns as she tugs at the end of the alleyway, then limping through the gate. Technically, public meta-ability use is illegal, but considering the vast number of other laws she’s already broken (vigilantism, assault, breaking and entering, theft and on one memorable incident grand theft auto) she has stopped caring about that particular crime. Using her ability to cut down on walking time to get to Avalanche’s clinic is hardly going to seriously harm anyone.

Avalanche is an underground doctor, possibly a medical student. She’s very good for stab wounds too serious to treat at home, setting simple bone fractures from when you barrel into a wall at escape velocity, and generally the best option for consequence free medical treatment. Iriguchi shudders slightly at memories of her brief… association with the Bone Phoenix. So creepy. For someone with a healing ability they sure had limitless capacity for violence. Thankfully, that particular partnership had ended when the healer had moved to greener pastures and was now healing for some gang or other in a different city.

Iriguchi reaches a familiar alleyway, lit by a flickering dirty white porch light over a metal door at the bottom of a small set of stairs. The thick metal door is open slightly. Looks like Avalanche is in a good mood.

She winces at she limps down the stairs to the waiting room. The stab wound is dribbling blood down her trousers. The knife seems to be a very nice-looking switchblade, which would explain how it got through the leather.

She reaches the waiting room, ignoring the small blood splatter behind her. Several chairs pushed into the corner, with the rest of the basement curtained off for the illusion of privacy. There is a purple haired man, slumped deep in one of the white plastic chairs, apparently asleep. Iriguchi shrugs, mentally winces, and tries to work out the shortest distance to reach the nicest chair possible.

She decides where to sit and takes a step forward.

“Iriguchi!” Avalanche sounds delighted at cutting her off. The curtains push back with a rattle. She aims a half-hearted glare at the doctor. She’s smiling behind her blue medical mask, and the dark rings around her eyes which normally are the colour of bruises have faded to a faint blue. A very good day for Avalanche then.

“Hey Avalanche.” Iriguchi tried to grin but ended up wincing.

Avalanche glances at the knife and turns back into her workspace. “Come right on through, I’m ready for you!”

Iriguchi smiles, genuinely. Her visits to Avalanche, except for the injury parts are always nice. She limps through to the workspace.

It’s surprisingly clean for a cellar. A leather couch takes up most of the space near the back wall, polished to a shine. A small rickety table and a cabinet were positioned near it There were a few packages on the table that she ignored in favour of sinking into the couch with a relived sigh.

“It’s been a while.” Avalanche comments, opening a packet containing some thread.

"Ha, yeah." Iriguchi tries to ignore the pinprick of Avalanche applying local anaesthetic. "I got better at dodging."

"Not good enough." Avalanche threaded the needle.

Iriguchi averted her eyes from what Avalanche is doing to her leg, fake pouting. "They could teleport!"

"So can you." Avalanche tilts her head to the side, like she's remembering something, and shudders almost imperceivably. Iriguchi notices, and shifts slightly, trying to keep her numb leg from moving. Avalanche sighs. “Just remembering a bad dream.”

Iriguchi relaxes. She was worried for a second, but Avalanche's nightmares are the top cause of her insomnia on her bad days, and as bad as it sounds, remembering was much better than the dreams themselves.

She gently pats the doctor on the shoulder, mindful of the bandages she is wrapping around her leg. Avalanche smiles weakly. “I’ll be fine.” The doctor promises.

Iriguchi huffs. “Good because if you die, I’m inventing necromancy and dragging you out of the afterlife.”

Avalanche’s startled laugher is the best thing she’s heard all day, staying with her as she limps back home to her dark apartment.

A week passes, days blurred with soup kitchens, patrols and sorting donations in charity shops while the dull ache of her leg gradually faded, and Hopper is nervous. The headlines are screaming, the people are panicking, and petty crime has dropped to an all-time low, as both criminals and civilians alike scramble to remain inside as much as possible. All because, for some reason, a hero slayer, a villain that has killed multiple professional heroes is in town. Why? There aren‘t even any professional heroes here. Well, Hopper winces, remembering the latest headline of ‘Silence kills off duty hero in West Sueon!’, no heroes patrol here. It doesn’t stop them from making use of the red-light district.

She shifts nervously on her perch on the roof edge of a bustling bar, chewing her lip and keeping half an ear on the far away conversations. Just because Hopper was technically an illegal part time hero, doesn’t mean she might be targeted by Silence, simply for being a vigilante and whatever unknown reason he murdered other heroes. She shudders. Silence’s thing was luring heroes out of sight, using his ability to muffle any nearby noise, and then go for the kill. It’s very hard to defend yourself against something you can’t hear coming. Many professional heroes had died at his hands, some corrupt, some glory seekers and some for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Hopper shifts again, wary of moving in the sudden quiet of the night.

Nobody knows this guy’s motive. No manifesto, no grand speeches, no posturing, nothing. Just cold efficiency, the antithesis of the violent villains you see on the news that the heroes always fight against. The only thing they have is that he can muffle sound in the surrounding area, some blurry picture and a short recording from one of the victim's comms. It’s unnerving. And it’s making Hopper nervous. Silence breaks the pattern; of villain, hero, vigilante and criminal- just a man with knives and murder.

Wait- quiet!?

Hopper tips herself forwards off the edge. She tugs the space on the ground below frantically her to where she had a brief glimpse of a closed door.

She hits the floor inside the building hard, momentum making her impact the wall beneath the window in a way that makes her bones rattle, and the walls shake. It’s still quiet. Hopper tugs down her mask from her nose and sniffs. Dust, and something metallic. Hopper barges into the corridor.

There is a body. Blood saturates the carpet. A person dressed in dark oranges with a sword. Silence- and it must be Silence, charges.

Hopper shifts backwards, sword missing chest by centimetres. Too close. Glance, tug and Silence stumbled as gravity shifted 90 degrees. She tugs downwards and she falls behind him and socks him in the head. The metal ridges on her gloves come away streaked in blood. Silence whips around and knifes her in the ribs. She feels the knife scrape bone.

Hopper roars soundlessly as she kneed the murderer in the chest, sending him stumbling back, tripping over the cooling corpse. Snarling she starts towards him, but the dagger makes itself knowns and she falters. Silence grins and swings his sword, and oh, she’s going to die.

The sword is stopped by a fancy looking wooden stick, with a loud thunk. Hopper blinks, because her vision is blurring slightly, and the stick is being held by the man in black she saw almost two weeks ago. She blinks again because his skin is covered in glowing eyes. An eye on the back of his neck focuses worriedly on her, and her unexpected rescuer stares at Silence.

The murderer is swaying on his feet, rough gasps spilling out of his mouth. He looks like he’s having trouble focusing. Silence turns and bolts.

Hopper immediately passes out.

She wakes at Avalanche’s, gloves and mask bundled into pockets. She vomits into her trash when she remembers the dead body, Avalanche holding her hair out of the trash.

(Later, when not distracted by her ribs, or her failures she’ll wonder how the man with many eyes knows Avalanche. Later she’ll wonder how Avalanche knows the man with many eyes.)

It is days later, and Hopper is running. Not from an enemy, not from any physical thing. Simply running. She jumps off the office block, tugs directly beneath her to a roof in the distance. She shoots up into the air in a flip and finds the next roof. Her meta-ability hums every time she stretches the laws of physics, every time she let the world return to as it should be. Up, down, up, down. Neat flips at each peak, air whistling past her as she plummets.

If she stops, she is going to cry.

She sees a rooftop. She lets her mother’s words echo in her ears. She lands, less graceful, more shaky, jarring her rib, and curls up on a little ball. She lets herself feel.

Much later, when the sky had lost all its light, Hopper uncurled and shoved her remaining feelings into what she had mentally named ‘the negative emotion box’ and stood up, wincing slightly at her healing rib.

She glanced around, drinking in the sight of unfamiliar buildings. Hmm. Hopper shifts, feeling wrung out, and tugs space from a shopfront window to the wall just below the edge of the office building and swings through the gate. She lands on the pavement in a sitting position, and slowly picks herself up. It’s been one of those days. Normally she would head back to her patrol route, but she has the bone deep knowledge that if she fights like this, she will get hurt. Frowning at the thought of downtime on her vigilante activities, she resolves to not get into any fights. But having a wander around won’t hurt.

It takes her an embarrassingly long time to realize she was in Fly’s old stomping ground, in the North, just past where Sparkplug frequents in the school holidays. This area is mainly offices, and business headquarters with some residential apartments scattered around, a stark contrast to the East which is crammed full of living people, and the West which is fondly known as the ‘Party district’.

She wanders past a carpark, surrounded by chain link fence when she hears running behind her. Hopper knowing she looks as innocent as someone walking around at night can do, turns- then throws herself to the ground as glass whistles past where her head was as the man in black skids past her, paper falling out of his arms. A man in what looked like a security guard uniform charged after him.

“Get back here bastard!” the glass thrower yelled, flinging more pointed bits of glass in a blatantly illegal display of his meta-ability.

The man in black made a rude gesture at him and disappeared around a corner.

Glass thrower screamed something unintelligible and raced after him.

Hopper slowly picked herself off the ground, careful of the broken glass and paper scattered around her. She scooped up a close piece. It looked like the bank records of a man named Gurasu Toketa. She blinked. No, it was definitely bank records.

There was a startled scream from a few streets away, and the sound of what could be someone getting hit with a many eyed vigilante’s fancy stick. Hopper picked up a few other pieces of paper, with similar financial contents and shuffled them into a neat pile.

There’s a rustle of cloth behind her, and she glances to see the man in black doing up his hoodie, paper tucked under one arm.

“Oh. Here.” Hopper hands over the paper. The man in black tucks them under his arm, and stares at her, expression unreadable. She stared back.

The man pulled a pen out of his pockets and scribbled something down, then tilts the paper towards her so she can read the neat handwriting.

‘What are you doing here? You patrol in the East.’, it reads.

Well, that’s slightly creepy. Hopper rubs one of her shoulders as she shifts out of the fighting stance she didn’t know she was standing in.

“Well, you know me.” She chuckled weakly, eyeing the fancy stick the man in black was holding. It gleamed slight under the streetlights. She gulped. “Just exploring.”

The man in black’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll...” Hopper shuffled backwards. “...I’ll be going then.”

Hopper bolted.

Iriguchi huffed, stretching a knot out of her back as she slowly changed into her vigilante gear. She’d been hauling around boxes of food delivered for the volunteers at a soup kitchen nearby and helped with a Dogs job - a guy moving out of his abusive girlfriend’s home- and she was pretty sure she had pulled something. She wrapped her blue scarf around her neck and looked out her window to the vandalized billboard. She reached to the flat surface mentally, dragging it to a deliberately left clear wall to her left in her small apartment. She stepped though the portal, blinking against the breeze, and sat with her legs dangling over the edge. The sun is setting on the horizon, which causes Hopper to grimace as she remembers her mangled sleep schedule.

She shifts, feeling the now dull ache of her ribs. Hopper sighs. She thinks of the many injuries hidden by time and healing that mar her skin. It would be nice to have an ally in her fights. But Fly is gone, old patrol routes taken by a vigilante that breathes violence and the man in black. And she does not know if she can trust him.

There is a thunk, a few seconds of silence and what sounds like a wire being retracted and someone scrabbling up the side of the building. Hopper drops off the billboard and rolls into a low crouch, then slinks behind a chimney as scrabbling indicates the stranger is still climbing.

The man in black knows her vigilante name and where she patrols. What else does he know about Hopper? Her favourite spots? He wouldn’t come to the East without reason. But he has reason. Her trespass earlier. An eye for an eye.

Hopper watches the man in black tug himself over the edge of the roof, detaching what looks like a small grapple gun. Hm. If they work together in the future, she’s grilling him for his support tech supplier. Hopper has had a piece of gear on her mind for quite a while.

Hopper silently pulled at the area of roof in front of the man in black, feeling the portal click into place on the floor in front of her. She hesitated, shrugged, and jumped into a backflip. She fell through the portal, upside down for a few seconds before she pierced the portal, making the man in black scramble back. Eyes ripple into existence along his bare arms, glowing pink ominously. Hopper felt the portal snap.

She landed in a shaky crouch. Every time a portal was closed in an unusual circumstance her meta-ability gave her a migraine. Hopper can feel the edges of this one building up in the back of her head. She straightens wincing.

Hopper grinned a grin she’d been told looked positively demonic. “Hi.”

The sky is now a deep orange, pink clouds flecking the horizon. Hopper mournfully cradled her arm like a lost lover, wincing as a passing car jabbed a point of sound into her temple. On the opposite side of the roof, the man in black was poking at serval new black eyes on his arms and chest. Apparently, when injured, his extra eyes didn’t disappear. Good to know. Hopper wondered if his meta-ability was a transformation type (that changed the user’s body) for the extra eyes, or an emitter type (that made or emitted items or effects, like her portals), for the ability nullification or pink light. A wave of pain shot through her skull. Hopper made a mental note to never fight with a headache ever again.

The fight hadn’t been more than a catfight, really. Hopper had slapped him a few times, mindful of how her brass knuckles could bruise bone, and cause concussions. The man in black hadn’t even used his fancy sticks.

“So …” Hopper winced slightly at the volume of her own voice and switched to ASL. “What’s your name?”

“What?” The man in black signed, hands flicking into the appropriate shapes.

“Your name. Whatever people call you. I never caught it.” Hopper winced as a sign required use of both arms and decided to switch back into speaking.

“I assumed you already knew.”

“How? It’s not like anybody told me.” Hopper went back to cradling her arm.

“Police reports?” The man in black tilted his head.

“You can do that!?”

“Not legally.”

“But that’s breaking the law!”

The man in black gestured at Hopper, indicating her vigilante outfit and her bruised arm.

“Oh yeah. I keep on forgetting vigilantism is illegal. And assault. And public meta-ability use. And trespassing. And fraud. And tax evasion.” Hopper paused. “I’ve broken so many laws.” She muttered quietly.

“There, there.”

“Are you mocking me?!”

The man in black’s eye crinkle. “No.”

Hopper huffs in mock anger. The man in black’s shoulder’s shake slightly.

“My name is Watcher.” He signs, after he recovers.

“Nice. Want to exchange Chatter handles?”

“...I’m gay”

“And I’m not interested in people romantically. Now, do you want to exchange handles or not?”

“...Sure.”

Iriguchi frowned. It had been a day or two since she and Watcher had exchanged Chatter handles, and they had talked a few times about mundane things, like the weather and stab wounds. However, there was something off about today. She decided to bother the other vigilante about it.

Private Messages [Heaven] -> Sick_of_your_horror

H: Noticed anything weird lately?

Hopper grinned as her phone lit up with a reply almost immediately.

Private Messages [Heaven] -> Sick_of_your_horror

S: No, not at the moment.

S: Also it’s 4AM.

H: Hypocrite.

S: …

S: May I ask why?

H: Just a bad feeling, I guess.

S: Disappearances are up now, and the drug smugglers in the west are stirring up some trouble over here, but that’s pretty standard.

H: Hey, isn’t that where that other vigilante patrols?

H: Red Castle or something.

S: Red Bastille.

H: Yeah them.

S: If you are suggesting warning them, I would advise against it.

H: Why?

S: Most of the newspapers are not exaggerating.

H: Yikes.

H: Even that one where they beat up a guy with her own leg?

S: Yes.

H: Damn.

It was much later, almost sunset and Iriguchi was relaxing alone in her apartment, enjoying the quiet and using the time to go over the soup kitchen’s finances again, when her phone buzzed twice.

Private Messages [Heaven] -> Sick_of_your_horror

S: Are you there?

Iriguchi frowned.

Private Messages [Heaven] -> Sick_of_your_horror

H: Hello?

S: You have teleportation

H: Sort of.

S: I may need a favour

S: LOCATION_PIN: 345207

S: I will owe you.

Iriguchi checked the location. It’s near a police station, in one of the places where their patrol routes overlapped.

Private Messages [Heaven] -> Sick_of_your_horror

H: Do I need to pay bail?

S: What.

S: No.

S: I just need some help with transporting some items.

Well that just isn’t suspicious at all. Iriguchi sighed and opened the duffle bag which contained her costume.

Private Messages [Heaven] -> Sick_of_your_horror

H: On my way.

When Hopper gets to the location, she finds Watcher has broken into the police station archives. Of course.

“I wanted the kidnapping case files.” He signed sheepishly, turning so she can read his hands. “But they’re very heavy. So, I went out to get you.”

Hopper facepalmed. “You idiot.”

They slip past a shitty camera, into the archives themselves.

“They rely on the security system too much, when they don’t have enough funding for a good one.” Watcher informs. “And not many people are interested in cold case files from years ago.”

Hopper, who had watched him avoid the only cameras in the building by simply ducking, hums slightly under her breath as she notes possible escape routes.

The case files were indeed, heavy. There were a surprising number of cold cases, most of which Watcher was piling into a carboard box he had found full of other folders

“Why do you need every disappearance in the last 20 years?!” Hopper furiously signed.

“This city has the highest kidnapping rate in the county! I want find out why.”

Hopper paused. “Ability trafficking?”

Watcher flinched, and grimaced. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

Hopper shuddered. With a teleportation ability, she was a very high value target, but even she pitied the poor people who were born with a warp meta-ability that they had to register. The kidnapping rings tended to target them because of their ability to transport items and people without the chance of serious injury, unlike teleporting meta-abilities which tended to be able to give very nasty accidental wounds.

Watcher finished piling files of unsolved cases into the box. “Where should I put these?”

Hopper glanced around, then opened the blinds slightly on a nearby window. "Near here should be fine.”

Hopper stared at a distant balcony window, and tugged with invisible hands, drawing the rubber like space to the wall next to where she was. The portal stabilized and she nudged the box though with a foot.

“C'mon” Hopper grabbed Watcher’s arm and tugged it forwards.

“Wait, wait, wait-”

The air is crisp and bracing on the balcony, and Watcher is hunching over the boxes.

“Are you okay?”

Watcher throws a shaky thumbs up. Hopper feels slightly sheepish. She hasn‘t transported anybody else through her teleport gates for... Actually, has she ever done this at all? Wow. She realises that hurtling towards an apparently solid wall headfirst would probably upset anyone, even someone as unflappable as Watcher. Oops.

“I’ll text if I find anything concrete.”

Hopper was not panicking, everything was fine, that was not the reason she was considering cashing in her favour two whole days after she got it! Nope, no way. It was certainly not why she was seriously considering asking for help from the guy with the weird meta-ability which the more she thought about the surer she was it shouldn’t exist! Meta-abilities should be a mutation which was a permanent deviation from the standard body plan, a transformation which was a reversible change to the user, or an emitter which created or changed something outside the user. Not a hellish mix of a transformation type and an emitter! Right?

Hopper breathed deeply, and shoved her jitters into the negative emotion box, and messages Watcher on Chatter.

Private Messages [Heaven] -> Sick_of_your_horror

H: About that favour.

S: Speak.

H: I would like to discuss this in person.

They meet in a frozen yogurt place as the sun is starting to set. It’s a little hole in the wall and the owner is GreedAndTemperance on the Dog’s server who offers lovely financial advice about funnelling money from bank accounts without detection. She is less jittery now, but there is an odd emptiness in her gut which she is refusing to acknowledge. She’ll be fine!

Watcher eyes the surroundings hesitantly, relaxing slightly when they both slid into a corner booth.

“Time for business.” Hopper signed with a flourish, almost knocking over her strawberry yogurt.

Watcher poked at his grape yogurt gingerly and gestured for her to continue.

“You mind if I talk out loud?” Watcher gestured for Hopper to continue. “Okay, so I heard from a friend of a friend of mine that for the past... week or so these vans have been arriving at an abandoned address full of boxes of cash.” Bagufeisu had often told or gossiped things to Hopper every time they met, and their most recent encounter was no exception.

Watcher’s eyes widened. "What.”

“Yeah. I thought it might be gang activity. Maybe the drug dealers? I tried to have a quick look in there, but I didn’t want to risk anything if they were guarded.”

“I could get the floor plans if you give me the address.”

“See, I knew there was a reason we’re friends.”

Watcher paused, then shook his head like a dog shakes off water. “...What's the address?”

“Oh, here.”

“I can get the plans in a few days, enough to plan a course of action.”

“Nice.”

The plan is go in, get solid evidence of the huge amounts of money, get out, and dump it in the nearby police office. Watcher is immensely unhappy about the police part, but a quick reminder from Hopper that if they do not go to the police, they would have to deal with the entire gang themselves, which definitely needed more than two people to mop up.

“I will not drag your bleeding body all the way to Avalanche’s place; Watcher.” Hopper punctuated her sentence by jabbing her spoon she was using to eat the frozen yogurt at him.

“But-”

“No.”

If the police don’t pull through –which Hopper begrudgingly admits is a real possibility- the plan is to dump the problem on Canidae’s dogs’ laps through the dog's server and watch the fireworks. Strictly speaking there was no guarantee that Canidae and their pack would even interfere: but the large amounts of money involved, the server’s recent funding crisis and the intrusion on Canidae’s ‘territory’ meant that it was most likely. Unfortunately, with their (It wasn’t much of a surprise when Watcher had also admitted he was involved with the dogs too) relatively non-suspicious online presence, a stunt of that size would get both of them noticed. Not that it’s a bad thing entirely. But no one sane would want Canidae to take an interest in them, not with Canidae’s reputation.

Both steps require evidence, however.

“You are using them wrong. That is not how you use a rake pick.” Watcher signed frantically.

They were at the abandoned house where the money was presumably being stored, and Hopper was picking the patio doors. Or, well trying to, with 5 minutes of YouTube videos as a reference. Watcher had offered to let her try, and she was currently using his tools on the rather battered looking lock.

“I can hear you moving but I don’t know what you’re saying since I’m looking at the lock.” Hopper pulls out the metal pin. Was it quite as bent when she put it in? She shrugs, and jams what looks like a small wrench into the lock.

Watcher shoves his hands in front of her face. “STOP.” There is an odd scraping sound from inside the door. Hopper tugs on the wrench experimentally. Stuck. Watcher runs his hand over his face, disturbing his beanie to reveal a strand of violet hair.

“I will try the other door.” Watcher’s glare in the nigh time darkness gives no room for arguments.

The inside is surprisingly clean for an abandoned house. It’s a big one, built by some bigshot pro hero who wanted a peaceful retirement home before the city went to shit. Both are them are signing silently, afraid of detection, but the house had been unusually empty.

Watcher hesitates. “Lets check the basement.”

Hopper hesitates. “Where?”

Watcher checks the printed-out floor plans in his hands. “The entrance is near the kitchen.”

The basement is also covered by a steel safe door. Watcher and Hopper share a glance.

“This is unlikely to be a recent addition.” Watcher observes blandly.

Hopper grins. “Bet 10 bucks it’s a sex dungeon.”

“What-no!” Watcher recoiled. “How do you even know that sign!?”

Hopper’s shoulders shook with silent laughter as she grinned.

The safe door swung open, and a spear of chitin impacted where Hopper had been standing less than a second ago. Spiked claws ripped into the floorboards like butter. A deep buzzing filling the air, resonating with the two vigilante’s very bones. Something hung and buzzing pulled itself out of the cellar almost seeming to swell-

“Fucking hell!” Hopper yelped from the top of the fridge.

Watcher opened his eyes, pink light spilling across the room. The wasp mutant roared and shrunk, a sound unnatural in a human throat and swiped at Watcher who batted away the spiked limb with his stick, and dived for the kitchen, eyes blooming over his back. Hopper threw her knife at the thing. It hit true, one eye busting, as the wasp turned on her in blind rage as she rolled off the fridge.

“Now!” The wasp launched itself into where she had crouched a moment before, wedging itself into the wall with a thunderous impact. Watcher’s eyes all closed, and Hopper reached and pulled-

An hour later, the dawn was quite beautiful. The two vigilantes lay sprawled across the roof, panting, far away from the empty house and whatever the hell was. Unfortunately, they were empty handed. Fortunately, they had both escaped with their lives!

“Fucking hell.” Hopper states, drained. Watcher lifted his head, nodded, and slumped back down.

The wasp person had been fast and strong. Too fast and strong. Hopper was pretty sure that it had grown the spear of chitin it had thrown at her. And it had been visibly growing in size. Another meta-ability with emitter and transformation elements, one owned by what was a mindless monster, and another owned by the man slumped on the roof next to her. Two meta-abilities that shouldn’t exist.

Hmm. The wasp had charged at Watcher as well. He had saved her, back then from Silence and today from the Wasp. Nevertheless, it was awfully suspicious.

Hopper felt another headache building. She had fumbled with the teleport portal she had made to allow them both to escape, and further use of her meta-ability had only made it worse.

“We should give this one to the dogs.” Hopper rubbed her temples. Owww.

Watcher rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows. “You’re not going to ask about my meta-ability and that giant goon’s?”

Wow, bold. Hopper shrugged. “The guard attacked you as well, and I was the one who brought you here.”

Watcher frowned. “Yes, but-”

“Are you seriously arguing against yourself?” She snapped.

Watcher’s hands stopped moving. He was still frowning.

Hopper grinned, pushing the pain to the side. “Hey. You’re a nice guy. You’re fun to be around, and I can’t judge you for keeping secrets.” Hopper playfully nudged him with her foot, causing him to jump slightly.

“Okay.” Watcher didn’t seem convinced.

The two lay in silence, watching the sky light up. Hopper shuffle into a sitting position.

“Give me a call when you get something about the kidnappings?”

“Sure.”

Hopper grinned as she dropped through a warp. Things were looking to become very, very interesting in the future with Watcher around.

#alias writes #hopper #Watcher #mentioned: Red Bastille #Avalanche #Silence #mentioned: canidae #the wasp beast #Peace in our time #my writing

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nny11writes · 3 years

Link

“You could pay that bounty off on her behalf, send word out to her. And there. You didn’t forgive and you didn’t take her back, but you kinda apologize for the whole throwing her off a moving train business.”

“You ain’t ever gonna let that go are you?” Glimmer groused.

“You threw her off a moving train as a Deputy!”

#glimmer #catra #glitra #glimtra #spop #she ra #how to quit you #htqy #western AU #fanfiction #fanfic #Adora finally gets her chance to shine #Secrets are revealed #and a few more things slot messily into place #sometimes you really are just mad because of how hurt and scared you are #RIP Glimmer you will never live down throwing Catra off a moving train #also what is happening how am I posting this frequently???????#whoever is possessing me just stick around for a bit wouldja? I could use the assistance!

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pochipop · 2 years

Note

I LOVE LOVE LOVE THE LOCKED OUT OF DORM HC!😍 amazing🛐 can you write a follow up like in the morning maybe where reader and the boys wake up together all cuddled up and close? I want some romance in the air wink wonk😏

WAKING UP IN HIS DORM — BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA.

warning(s) ; none.

characters ; izuku, bakugo, tenya, shinso, shoji, shihai.

a/n ; you can find the "locked out of your dorm" post here if you'd like to read it for context, but this can be read as a standalone!

𝑰𝒛𝒖𝒌𝒖 mumbles softly, snuggling into the unusual warmth at his side. He's half asleep, so it hasn't dawned on him just yet that you're pressed against him, —head resting on the same pillow, arm draped across his chest, and his own leg slotted between yours. It doesn't register for a while longer as he flirts with consciousness, drifting back and forth between a hazy, dreamlike state, and a less than tangible sense of reality. Finally, when his eyes open halfway and he assesses the position he's in, his heart starts to beat a few pumps faster. He has no idea how the two of you ended up like this. . . Everything from the nighttime feels like a fever dream. The last thing he can certainly recall is falling asleep with his back to you, and your back to him in turn. There was a defined space between the two of you as well, specifically to avoid the likes of this. Not to say Midoriya wasn't fond of you. Much the opposite, in fact, which was a large factor in him letting you spend the night with him in the first place. He's always seen you as a friend, and maybe he's even toyed with the idea of being more than just that, but. . . It just wasn't feasible. Being so caught up in the pursuit of dreams, always training, always reaching for success; —Izuku didn't want to hold you back, and he didn't want to levy distractions for himself either.

Still, he can't deny that this feels right somehow, despite his spiking anxiety. His nerves leave his body stiff at first, but as he relaxes, he can't help but notice how nice this is. He even dares to note how cute you look like this, with your hair messily slipping in front of your eyes and your lips parted in a semi-squished pout. He swallows everything down. It's not like he can tell you how he feels. After all, he thinks it's wildly unlikely that you'd ever reciprocate, and to top it off, he's so dumbfounded by even the idea of having something other than a platonic relationship with someone that he wouldn't even know where to begin. Still, you're here at his side, and not even Midoriya can deny the butterflies fluttering around inside him. Quickly, he tears his gaze away from you when he hears you make a small noise, eyelashes flittering as you begin to stir from sleep. He doesn't want to make this any more awkward than it's sure to already be, and if you were to catch him staring at you like he was studying a science experiment, he's positive that would make things a lot harder (on both of your behalves.)

"Mm. . ." You vocalize, your voice riddled with sleep, "Izu. . ." As your words trail off, his face heats up, a hefty blush painting his cheeks. "G-Good morning," he offers with a stammer, quickly pulling his leg away from yours. His body is quick to mourn the loss of your warmth, —almost instantaneously. You scramble a bit, putting space between yourself and him. This is something akin to mortifying. How you'd ended up so close is lost on you, but the fact that he'd woken up first to you wrapped around him? Shame crackles under your skin like pop rocks. "Good morning," you finally reply, unable to look him in the face. When silence falls, you kick yourself. You know you need to say something about this, —but what, and more importantly, how? Eventually, when the quiet hangs too heavy for your liking, you cave in and settle for an apology. "I'm sorry for getting so close in the night," you say, fiddling with your thumbs as you keep your eyes trained to the bedsheets, "I don't know how we. . ." It's too embarrassing to even articulate. You pause, but not for long. "I'm really not sure. I'll head out now, though, I don't want to cause you anymore trouble. Thank you again for letting me stay with you for the night." Somehow, he knows that if you leave, the two of you will be hard pressed to talk this over later on. He can almost taste the uncomfortable synergy in the UA halls. "Wait, y/n!" Midoriya says, and you do as he requests, "—you don't need to apologize. We sort of met in the middle anyhow, so I'm just as much to blame. It was a chilly night, our bodies were just moving towards the warmth in our sleep, I'm sure. . ." Brushing it off also doesn't feel quite right to Izuku, but it's the best way to settle this awkward tension as far as he can tell. He may not be the best with these kinds of situations, but he walks with you to get help for your locked dorm room door and doesn't apologize when the back of his hand brushes against yours along the way.

—

𝑩𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒈𝒐 stills when he realizes the position the two of you are in. He's on his side, as are you, and his hand is resting along the dip of your torso. Your face is lingering around the crook of his neck and his shoulder, soft breaths fanning over his skin, and it's then that it dawns on him that he should have slipped a shirt on before getting in bed with someone else. He's at a loss. . . A part of him wants to shout in your ear, give you a loud, displeased lecture about the fact that you've invaded his personal space like this; —but he knows, deep down, that he's just as much to blame here. His legs are tangled amongst yours, and he can't help but notice that the hand he has resting against you has a fairly firm grip for him having just woken up. Katsuki has never really felt the warmth of someone else like this. . . He never thought it would suit his tastes. But now that you're here, sleeping so close to him, —resting so peacefully that it rings of intimacy and vulnerability, he isn't sure what to do with himself in turn. He swallows, lets his body relax (if only a bit,) and evens out the breath that hitches in the back of his throat. He stares at you for a while longer, red eyes lightly scanning over your face and body. You must trust him a lot to sleep this soundly so closely, and the thought of that leaves Bakugo reeling. Making friends has never been his strong suit, so having anything beyond a platonic relationship has been all but completely out of the question for a long while now. In fact, up until this very moment, he hadn't even considered that it could be within question.

Softly, you let out a little hum in your sleep, face pressing more into his chest. Katsuki thinks for a moment that you're like a little kitten, desperate for warmth as you snuggle into him. And the worst part is that he likes it.

The thought of it jolts something uncomfortably warm inside of him. It's something he's never felt before, —made of fuzzy static and sharp stings of electricity that send his heart racing. The hand on your torso retreats away quickly, and the sudden movement jostles you awake. By now, the tips of Bakugo's ears are on fire. You blink the sleep from your eyes, pushing yourself up on his bed with your arms. He hates that he could get used to this, to you.

"Idiot," he chastises, "don't you have any sense of personal space?"

All of this feels so sudden. You hadn't meant to end up in that position, and even more so, you're not even sure how you had. The warmth of his skin lingers along your own.

Bakugo can't seem to look you in the eyes.

"I. . . I'm sorry," you answer softly, words thick with embarrassment.

He scoffs.

"You should be," he states, but it sounds much less harsh than it could have had he actually meant it.

"This is what I get for being nice. A weirdo clinging to me like a stupid, helpless little cat."

The comparison has you staring at your hands just to avoid his face.

"I'm sorry," you repeat, "I'll leave now. This was a bad idea from the start anyway, and that's my fault. Thank you for letting me stay the night, and if I can do anything to repay you in the future, please let me know."

Katsuki bites at the inside of his cheek so hard that he nearly draws blood.

"There's a jacket in the closet. Take it. It's cold outside, and I don't want to have to hear about it if you get sick."

—

𝑻𝒆𝒏𝒚𝒂 wakes up first, unsurprisingly so given his intensely keen circadian rhythm. However, it is shocking to him that you're wrapped around his arm, one leg draped over his own. He knows that his first reaction should be to diffuse this, —it's inappropriate, even if it's innocent in nature. Iida should shake you awake and reprimand you softly for this indiscretion, but. . . You're so warm.

And you look so peaceful, sleeping soundly with him at your side, and he can't deny that he feels proud of that. It means you trust him, maybe more than anyone else in class 1A. It means you're comfortable enough around him to be vulnerable. It means that you're putting faith in him as more than just Class Representative.

He gets lost for a bit, —in the moment, in the lull of your breathing, in the way your grip tightens ever so slightly around him. The mature side of him knows he should put an end to this. Rules are in place to keep things like this from happening on campus. But the emotional part of him that Tenya likes to stuff down and drown out with a confident facade whispers to him that it's okay to enjoy this, if only for a little while. It's human. He's human.

Iida is hyper aware of that with you next to him. He's painfully aware of the heart in his chest that's beating faster than usual. Your warmth sinks softly into him.

"Y/n," he decides, lightly shaking your shoulder until he sees your eyes open slowly, "we should go speak to someone about your door now."

There's a moment of defiance. Your eyes close for a moment, forehead pressing against Tenya's upper arm. Then there's panic. You jolt awake, realize the position you've found yourself in, and pull away from him with a small gasp. The good thing is that he doesn't seem mad or disgruntled, but this is embarrassing for you beyond words.

". . .yeah, okay," you agree.

An apology is waiting on the tip of your tongue, but just as you open your mouth to utter the words, he speaks again.

"If you could," he prefaces, "please don't tell our classmates about what's happened in here. I. . . Have a bit of a reputation to uphold, and I'd rather they not know that I've broken the rules like this. If they know their class representative has done things like this, they'll be more likely to do it themselves."

He has nothing to worry about. As far as you're concerned right now, this is going with you to the grave. It was humiliating to wake up like that next to him, —especially now that you've come to realize you wouldn't have minded it at all under much different circumstances. You swallow that down adamantly.

"I can do that," you nod, "and I'm sorry. . . For that."

His heart skips a beat, but he gives you a humble smile.

"Don't worry about it," he brushes it away and under the rug, at least for now, "let's sort the situation with your dorm out now."

—

𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒐 looks peaceful in a way that you've never seen him. Not that you see him terribly often, —but whenever you do, he's always got a clouded expression. Something always seems to be bothering him internally, like he's wrestling with demons that nobody else can see. He doesn't talk much. Sometimes, you forget what his voice sounds like. What you can't forget, however, is the way he works himself to the bone just to prove himself to those around him. You see the way he strains himself day after day, just to match the strides of people who overlook him again and again.

So now that he's fast asleep, arm draped across your chest, chin resting against your shoulder, you don't have the heart to move. And you can't deny that a large part of you doesn't want to anyway. It's jarring to you just how warm he is, and how gentle he can be. Up until now, you'd always thought him to be a bit rough around the edges, —but good, nonetheless. Heroic. Now, you're watching those edges smooth themselves over in real time. And maybe they were yours all along.

Like this, you see him very differently. The dark circles imprinted under his eyes become a bit less of a worry. He's not scratching and clawing for a place to belong, —he already does, and you hope he can feel that too.

Hitoshi mumbles something you don't catch in his sleep, shifting gently against you. He's a light sleeper, and he rarely sleeps well, and this isn't much of an exception. You don't know it, but he was struggling to fall asleep less than two hours ago, tossing and turning in bed, just hoping he wouldn't wake you up in the process. When his eyes open, he's quick to realize the position he's found himself in, and he pulls away so fast that it gives you whiplash.

He barely chokes down the curse words playing on the tip of his tongue.

"Sorry," he says quickly, and it almost sounds like a gasp, "—I didn't know I. . . Got that close."

You sit up to meet him where he's at, head tilting to the side. His lilac hair is a mess, but it's a charming look on him.

"It's okay," you offer up a gentle smile, hoping to soothe his nerves.

It seems to work well enough. You watch as he bristles a little less, shoulders relaxing to their usual position.

"As long as you slept well, I don't mind," you add, (at the risk of coming on a little too strong.)

He looks at you like you're the first person to ever show him that sort of kindness. It breaks your heart to know that might actually be the case.

". . .thank you," he mumbles, hard pressed to meet your gaze.

Shinso worries he's fallen in a bit too deep now, but the glint in your eyes wanes the anxiety off, —at least for the moment. Maybe, he thinks, being cared for isn't so bad after all.

—

𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒋𝒊 can't say he's shocked that you're so close to him when morning comes. Really, it would be hard not to be. He's tall, broad shouldered, and to top it all off, he has extra appendages on either side. It's no wonder, and it couldn't really be helped. But it still feels. . . Intimate, dare he acknowledge. Your head rests close to his shoulder, but more along the upper part of his muscular arm. In fairness, his bed isn't very large, and he shifts in his sleep a lot, so this is more than likely just a side effect of that. Even so, having acknowledged that, a part of him wants to hope that this isn't simple coincidence.

A part of him wants to think that you felt so comfortable with him that it just happened naturally, like a bee to pollen or a butterfly to nectar. He knows that might be a longshot, but he can't stop himself. Whatever these feelings are that he has for you, you're indulging them in this moment, whether you're aware of it or not.

He knows what it's like to have people rely on him, of course, but this. . . This is different, somehow. Your reliance feels unconditional, like all he has to do is lie here beside you, and that's enough. You're not concerned about scouting for villains from a rooftop or using him as assistance in hand-to-hand combat against some ruffians. As things stand, you just need him to be there, and you're not asking for anything else.

Shoji likes that.

But just as he finds himself thinking that you shift a bit, and within a few second your eyes are only half lidded. Blinking away the sleep, you quickly realize how you've tangled yourself into him throughout the night. Your face feels warmer now as you pull yourself away from him.

"Sorry," you mumble softly, "I guess I move in my sleep more than I thought. . ."

"Don't worry about it," he replies, and you can tell he's smiling softly by the way his eyes slit into little crescent moons, "my bed's a little small, so it couldn't really be helped. As long as you slept well, all's well that ends well."

"Yeah," you return the smile, "I did, thank you. And thank you again for letting me stay the night with you. You're a lifesaver."

And somehow, those words coming from you hit different. They resonate. He hopes to hear words in that vein from you again.

—

𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒉𝒂𝒊 is almost giddy about this. In an innocent way, of course. He's never been in a position like this, certainly not with anyone like you, and a part of him is hard pressed to believe it's even real. If not for fear of waking you and shattering the moment, he probably would have pinched himself just to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

His fingers are loosely gripping your wrist, tethered to the arm you have draped over his chest. A sliver of your body is resting on him, head tucked away into the crevice of his neck where your breath ghosts against his skin. Your legs are woven amongst his own. Shihai basks in this, —attempting to engrave it into the deepest parts of his brain so that he'll never forget it, just in case it never happens again.

If this isn't what he hopes it is, he wants to keep hold of these feelings, even if they're futile.

He's never really experienced this kind of closeness before, —certainly not with you. For as long as he can remember, there's always been an unspoken distance between the two of you. Or maybe he was just making that up in his head in order to give himself excuses for not pushing anything further. It's hard for him to imagine that people genuinely enjoy his company, and the cocky, arrogant persona he puts up doesn't always do much to help his cause in that department.

But you've broken through a lot of his walls, and he's gotten used to having you around. As a friend, anyway. This, however, this is new. This closeness, this toeing of the line. . . This is all unchartered territory, and he doesn't have a clue where to go from here. He knows what destination he's hoping to reach, but what direction must he start with to reach it? Your guess is as good as his.

His illusion shatters too soon when you whimper softly. He can feel your eyelashes flutter against his skin.

"Ah. . . Morning," he says, fingers slowly unfurling from their place around your wrist.

There's a few seconds of stiffness as you realize what's happening. Shihai feels the muscles in your body tighten, and then subsequently release their tension in suit when you realize he seems to be okay with this, for one reason or another.

". . .Good morning," you reply, but you don't pull away from him just yet.

He just hopes that means what he thinks it does.

masterlist : here! (requests open, but fair warning i'm not the fastest at fulfilling them!)

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yandere-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Title: Closed Casket.

Commissioned by the very lovely @99shadowcat99.

Pairing: Yandere!Demon Brothers/Reader (Obey Me).

Word Count: 2.4k.

TW: Toxic Relationships, Dehumanization, Codependence, Threats of Violence, Mentions of Death, Implied Imprisonment.

It was a closed-casket funeral.

For such a small detail, it bothered you more than it had any right to. You hadn’t been the one to arrange it, the one to speak to the undertaker and evaluate the damage – that was a responsibility that fell to her fiancé rather than you, a distant cousin, only brought up in conversations about postponed friendships and quickly thinning family trees. You’d done what you could to help, what a last living relative should do to help - paying for flower arrangements, speaking to financial advisors, sorting through her belongs and trying to guess at what might’ve held some sentimental value to someone more present in her life, but you never saw the body. No one ever offered, and you hadn’t known how to ask. She was gone, now, dead and buried, and you'd never gotten to see her, even if everyone who had said that it was probably for the best.

And it probably was. They were probably right. You wouldn’t feel any better, if you had.

And yet, you found it difficult to believe you could feel any worse than you did now, either.

Belphegor was curled around your arm. He had been since you came back from the Human World, slotted against your side, draped over your shoulders, and currently, splayed out on top of you, his face buried in the flesh just above your shoulder blade, his body forcibly tangled with yours in a way that was too awkward to be comfortable for both of you, a sacrifice he seemed more than willing to make on your behalf. You’d tried to shrug him off earlier, when he first decided there was enough space on the smallest loveseat in the common room for his strange, daily ritual, and when that failed, you’d tried to talk him into letting go, into loosening his grip enough for you to slip away when he fell asleep, into relocating to somewhere else, somewhere softer, somewhere with a pillow that could easily replace you when he was too busy tossing and turning to care, but Belphegor had always been so frustratingly picky when it came to where, how, and when he chose to sleep.

He’d chosen you, and he’d chosen like this, and he’d chosen now. There was little you could do to change his mind, after he’d already made it up.

Still, you tried. He wasn’t asleep yet, caught somewhere between permanently half-conscious state and a sleep deep enough to warrant medical concern for most living creatures, supernaturally inclined or otherwise. “Belphie,” You called, gently, pushing the temptation to try more forceful methods into the back of your mind. “Think you pick another spot? Just for today?”

“Can’t.” It was a simple response, his voice heavy with sourceless exhaustion, just as short and just as blunt as it had been the last time you asked. You weren’t sure what you’d expected, honestly. “You were gone. I can’t.”

Your frown deepened. You’d left for a week – nine days, at most. And Belphegor couldn’t have been awake for more than half of that. “That’s not--”

“He was lonely, sweetheart.” It was Asmodeus, this time, as he perched himself on the loveseat’s arm. He wasn’t any better than Belphie, nimble fingertips soon tracing aimless patterns over the side of your neck, the dip of your shoulder, taking up the space he could occupy since the space he’d like to was already in-use. “He’ll get better, in a few days. Once it sinks in that you won't be leaving again.”

You were out of practice. A month ago, you would’ve known better than to respond, than to ask questions to someone who took as much delight in festering doubts as Asmodeus did. A month ago, you would’ve brushed him off and found your way to Purgatory Hall for the rest of the night. But, it wasn’t a month ago, and you were tired. You were still thinking about that casket, and you couldn’t seem to think of much else. “What do you mean?”

“Oh?” There was a pause, a laugh, light and melodic and fluttering. You’d always liked his laugh. You could bring yourself to enjoy it, though, not right now. “No one’s told you, yet?”

“Don’t tease ‘em.” You hadn’t noticed how full the common room had gotten, not until Mammon spoke and you reflexively turned to face the sofa opposite to yours. He was standing, leaning against the back, his hands clasped in a way that’d put his anxiety on display far more transparently than his voice ever could. Beelzebub, too, his arms crossed over his chest as his attention shifted idly between you, the console in Leviathan’s hands, and the book splayed out in Satan's lap, his scowl serving as evidence of his annoyance. It always bothered you, how easily he grew frustrated by situations he chose to put himself in. It bothered you a little more, today. “Might as well spit it out, if you’re going to bring it up,” Mammon went on, shifting his weight, letting his eyes fall to the floor, then rise to the ceiling, then drift back to you. “There’s no point putting it off.”

“Weren’t you supposed to tell them, Mammon?” Beelzebub chimed in, absent-mindedly. If it'd been Satan, if it'd been Lucifer, it would’ve been pointed, malicious, purposeful. Beelzebub just sounded like he was trying to remind his older brother of something he’d forgotten. “You said you should be the one to do it, since you met them first. Then, when Lucifer said you wouldn’t be able to do it, you said that if the human threw a tantrum, you could just--”

“I didn’t say shit.” Mammon cut him off, his tone hostile, but it was a half-hearted anger, more petty than vengeful. “I said I could, not that I would, and Lucifer shot me down. If he hadn’t, there’d already be a deadbolt on every fucking door in the house. We wouldn’t be sitting around, talkin’ about it.”

“Every door?” Beelzebub looked confused. Then, he looked concerned. “I thought we agreed to just seal the exits.”

“I still think we should just use their bedroom,” Leviathan chimed in, never looking up from his hand-held. Something tightened in the back of your throat. Experimentally, you tried to pull yourself out of Belphegor’s arms, but he only held you tighter, and Asmodeus’ nails dug into your shoulder, rooting you back into place without a single word. “It’d be cool, kinda like a permanent save-point. We wouldn’t have to worry about baby-proofing the entire house, either.”

“We could use a leash,” Asmodeus suggested, never breaking his stare. He didn’t look away. You wished he would. You wished they’d, if nothing else, have the courtesy to wait until you’d left the room to start talking about things you didn’t know and didn’t want to know. “So we can make sure they’re always close by! Or, we could have Lucifer enchant a collar – having to hold a tether might get in way when I have to--”

“He’d never do it.” It was the first time Satan had cut in, but it was clear he’d been listening. His book was still open, his expression still concentrated, but he was tapping his foot, the disruption soundless against the thick carpeting, and you couldn’t remember the last time he thought to pretend to turn a page. He was listening, but he didn’t want to be. He was a part of this, but you doubted he’d every say as much out loud. You doubted he’d ever let himself admit he’d stooped to that level. “And if he did, we’d never hear the end of it. In a week, there’d probably be a new kennel in the catacombs, right next to Ceberus’.” He stopped, for a moment, shaking his head. For your own sake, your chose to believe the envy lingering behind his voice was his attempt at a bad joke. “You would prefer a bedroom, wouldn’t you, (Y/n)?”

He asked you a question. He was talking to you, now, directly, which was more than you could say for any of his brothers. It should’ve been an improvement. An opportunity, if nothing else, a chance to ask why Asmodeus was looking at you like that, why you could feel Belphegor’s careless smile pressing into your skin, but you hesitated, something catching in your chest. It felt too solid, too heavy, too rough and too jagged. It felt like it’d hurt to swallow down, later on, once the unease passed and you got over whatever scheme they’d planned out, while you were gone.

“I… What?” You weren’t sure what you wanted to say, but it came out as a question regardless, your reluctance blending messily with your confusion. “This isn’t funny. If you’re going to act like this every time I visit the Human World, I might have to stop coming back.”

Finally, Satan glanced up from his book. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve said he was smiling. “Right. Because you still think you're allowed to leave.”

The rest of the room fell silent. Or, maybe it didn’t, maybe it was louder than it'd ever been. You didn’t know. You couldn't hear anything, not over the sudden ringing in your ears. “I’ll have to, eventually. It’s not up to me.”

Beelzebub shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. “It’d be safer if you stayed in the Devildom. We can’t protect you in the Human World.”

Leviathan’s grip tightened around his console. In the background, you could hear the plastic shell start to crack. “We wouldn’t be able to see you. Not all the time. Not for more than a few weeks at a time.” He was quiet, for a moment. Then, he added, “It wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t… It wouldn’t feel like it does when you’re here.”

Mammon looked away, letting his head lull to the side. “You belong here, with us. You’re supposed to be here. We’re just doin’ you a favor. No one wants to watch you figure out how fucked you’d be on your own.”

And, finally, Belphegor groaned, exhaustion heavy in the gravely sound. He untangled himself from you, but the freedom was temporary, fleeting, his arms snaking around your waist, instead, his face soon gracelessly buried in your chest. His eyes flickered open, but barely, just enough to let him stare up at you through his eyelashes, a thoughtless grin pulling at the corners of his lips. He wasn’t divided, not like his brothers were. He didn’t try to pretend he was above holding you against your will. “You're not leaving again.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even a threat. It was just a fact, to him. It was something that wouldn’t happen, that couldn’t happen, if only because his older brothers were willing to work so hard to make sure it didn’t. “We’re not gonna share you, anymore. We’re not gonna have to.”

You didn’t want to hear anything else. You didn’t want to be here, anymore, not if this was what it meant, not if it was going to feel like standing in front of that closed casket all over again, the urge to run and sob and scream silencing every reasonable thought you’d ever had. You didn’t bother trying to talk to Asmodeus and Belphegor, you didn’t bother trying to coo and edge and skirt around their anger, their unspoken threats, not anymore, not when your body was already standing on its own, shoving at Belphegor’s body and swatting at Asmodeus’ hand as he reached out, aiming to cup your cheek and tell you so gently to sit down and shut up. Beelzebub leaned forward, Mammon flinched, and you could’ve sworn you caught a row of long, pointed fangs flash across Satan’s sneer, but you didn’t care. You wanted to hit something. You wanted to yell. You’d wanted to ever since you came back to this damned house and its overly affectionate occupants.

“You don’t get to share me.” You couldn’t be shared. You weren’t theirs to share, even if they already seemed geared against the idea. You weren’t theirs to trap, either. You never would be. “I don’t need your protection, and you don’t need to see me, and the only place I’m supposed to be is the Human World. I don’t know what got into your fucked-up heads while I was gone, but you can’t just--”

“Sit down, (Y/n).”

You stopped mid-sentence.

Right. You’d almost forgotten Lucifer hadn't gotten a chance say his piece, yet.

He didn’t give you time to cooperate. There was already a fist curled around the back of your collar, dragging you back into your seat, the action so much more aggressive than Belphegor’s oppressive dead-weight or Amsodeus’ sweet, sickly temptation. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel Lucifer looming over you, standing tall, towering above his younger brothers as he took control of the room. You wondered if he’d been here the entire time, if he’d heard everything, rather than just your sudden outburst. You wondered if you should hope that he had.

“We missed you, while you were gone.” He didn’t sound mad. He didn’t sound mad, but none of them did, none of them sounded like they were plotting to keep you away from your home, your friends, the life you had outside of demons and angels and magic. None of them sounded dangerous, either, save for Lucifer. He’d always been easier to trust when he wasn’t pretending to be kind. “We’ve all been alive for centuries, and yet, you went and made a week feel like a small eternity. Do you know how difficult it is for a human to inflict that kind of suffering onto a demon?”

You didn’t answer. Across the room, Mammon laughed and Satan bristled. Belphegor melted back into your side, more than happy just to have his resting place scared into immobility.

“You’ll stay.” It was an order, this time. Not a suggestion, not a passing concern, but a command, something you would be expected to obey. He had the nerve to use that low, calm cadence, measured and pre-meditated. He didn’t want to let you convince yourself he was as prone to bluffing as his brothers were. “You’ll stay because we want you to. We’re willing to use force, but there’s no need for that. Is there, love?”

You nodded, your body tense and your eyes glassy, and Lucifer rewarded you with a breathy chuckle, a row of knuckles delicately pressed to your cheek. A miserable reward for such an unwilling sacrifice, but Lucifer didn’t seem to mind. It certainly didn’t stop him from leaning in, his lips brushing against the top of your head, his voice falling just low enough to make something sharp and cold shot down your spine, as he went on.

“It’s not like you have anything to go back to, anymore.”

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marvelouspeterparker · 3 years

Text

home

pairing: mob!tom holland x reader

request: okok i have a mob!tom idea... what about tom having to work until veeeryyyy late at night cause he’s like drowning in paperwork and all that mob crap i wouldn’t know about... and when he finally stops he comes to your room to find you asleep and he’s like instantly relieved to see his princess after all that stress (can involve some smutty smut or else what’s the point). by anonymous

warnings: smut but it’s soft

word count: 1.7k

notes: ok i love this concept + this has been a wip for a while now and i’m honestly not sure how i like it, i kinda struggled for some reason but i hope you enjoy. this wasn’t rly what i wanted to post first and i’m kinda nervous tbh but here you go! just a short, sweet smut to get back in the groove <3

There was something reassuring and almost soothing to Tom about coming home to you after a long day at work. His days were sometimes filled with blood, betrayal, violence, frustrations, and nothing good––but none of that would matter when he stepped into the comfort of your bedroom, the warmth of your embrace, basked in the light of your presence.

He would often feel the tension rolling off of his shoulders as soon as he set his eyes on you, the light of his life. No matter how dark his days would get, how brutal his job forced him to become, you would always bring him back to you, with your words, your company.

Tonight, was luckily not bloody, but rather boring and exhausting. Tom spent hours in a room with dozens of other men, bosses, associates of other mobs writing up agreements, making deals, negotiations over territories, clubs, money. He was done with them all the minute he stepped foot at the designated meetup location and even texted you throughout the meeting to get through it. As soon as everything was done he was the first one out of the door.

You often tried to stay up and wait for him on long nights like these, but sometimes, you couldn’t overcome the fatigue, and Tom couldn’t blame you. As he stepped into your bedroom quietly, he perked up when he noticed the light was still on but smiled softly when he noticed your figure curled up on the bed. You were dressed in your pajamas, since it was technically early in the morning now, but you were lying on top of the covers, meaning you had tried to stay up but ultimately failed.

Tom slowly closed the door, careful not to make too much noise and put his cufflinks away first, in the dish on the dresser, then he went into the walk-in closet and put his shoes away before undressing down to his boxers. It wasn’t until he went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash up before bed that you woke up, the sound of running water stirring you awake.

“Tommy?” Your voice was sleepy and saccharine, luring him to bed like a siren. “Is that you?”

“Yeah baby, I’m here.” He dried off and shut off the bathroom light before making his way over to your side. He bent down and brought a hand to your cheek, gently holding your face as he looked at you with tired eyes.

You cleared your throat, your eyes blinking up at him slowly. “Did you just get here?”

He nodded, his thumb caressing your cheek, this close to lulling you back to sleep. “Meeting went on for ages. They just would not stop talking.” You knew he was honestly irritated, but the frown on his face and the furrow between his brows was nothing but cute to you and you couldn’t help but let out a quiet breath of laughter, making him smile down at you.

“Get in bed with me?”

“Of course.” He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead and climbed over you, pulling the covers out from under you and tucking the both of you in. You turned in his arms and placed a hand on his neck, looking up at him fondly. He looked at you for a moment before leaning in and pressing his lips against yours gently, leaving a few small pecks that got longer and longer until you were pulling each other closer, desperate to feel one another. You were breathing slowly and deeply, in sync, your arms wrapped around each other tightly.

You rubbed your thighs together, suddenly remembering how needy you had gotten when he was gone before you had fallen asleep. You took a deep breath and sighed at the feeling and Tom quirked a brow, immediately recognizing the sound.

He pulled away slightly and brought his hand back up to your cheek, taking note of the glint in your gaze. “I know that look in your eye, darling.” He smirked softly. “Someone feeling a bit needy?”

“Please.” You pouted, mind too tired to let out full sentences and Tom was quick to indulge you.

His hand trailed down between your legs and raised his brows when he felt the wetness on your panties. “See you kept busy while I was gone, hm darling?” You nodded innocently and he growled, capturing your lips with his, his voice hot and heavy with need as he whispered against your mouth. “Yeah? You touched your pretty pussy thinking about me while I was away? Such a naughty little thing.” He quickly slipped your panties off and out of the way and bit his lip at how you purred and arched under his touch, your body practically melting from the touch it was desperately aching for.

You rolled your hips as his fingers swiped between your folds, spreading your mess around almost lovingly. Tom slipped a finger inside you and kissed down to your neck, making sure to leave a few bold marks just the way he liked. You felt him smirk against your skin before his tongue swiped against it, a second finger making its way into you. It didn’t take long for him to find and tease your spot with his fingertips––the feeling making you gasp and writhe under him, your hands desperately reaching to grab his hair in one and his arm in the other.

He pumped his digits in and out of you at a teasing pace until your skin felt hot and you could barely breathe, until he could see from the look in your eye and the way your lips parted, unable to let words pass through them, that you needed more. Soon enough, his fingers were quickly pounding into you, the sound of your wetness against his hand almost deafening in the quiet room.

He nuzzled against your cheek adoringly as if he wasn’t touching your most sensitive parts. His voice was as soft as his lips as they grazed against your skin. “Come on lovie, fall apart on my fingers. Wanna feel you make a mess in my palm.” He pressed his thumb against your bundle of nerves and your fingers dug further into him, your mouth dropping open as you finally reached your peak.

Your back arched slowly and you swore you could feel every muscle in your body from your head to your toes as the pleasure spread through your core, your stomach, and down your thighs. The world went silent for a few seconds until you came to again, the feeling of Tom’s lips against your cheek and his fingers soothingly rubbing between your legs bringing you back.

You blinked slowly a few times before turning to look at him, a lazy smile on your face. You slid a hand up to his jaw and closed the distance between you, thanking him through a passionate kiss. You tried to pull him on top of you and he obliged, sliding between your legs without pulling away from your lips. He pressed his hips down against yours and you gasped into the kiss from the feeling of the fabric against your sensitive core.

Tom sucked on your bottom lip and pulled away teasingly slowly to look in your eyes, one of his hands caressing your cheek, the other holding him up. “Are you sure you’re not too tired, love?”

You shook your head immediately, “Just want you. Need you.”

He smiled and kissed your cheek. “Well my girl always gets what she wants, doesn’t she?” You bit your lip and nodded up at him cheekily, prompting him to kiss you again, this time on the lips. He pulled his member out and lined up at your entrance, swallowing your moans as he slid into you. He bottomed out and ground his hips against yours, relishing in the gasp you let out. He took both of your hands and pinned them on either side of you head, his fingers interlocked with yours as he started to thrust into you, his eyes watching you fondly and lustfully.

You whined and looked up at him, “Missed you Tommy.”

“Yeah baby?” He moved closer and let his lips graze yours. “Well I missed this tight cunt too.” You moaned loudly, your head tilting back and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you, leaning down to thrust deeper and slower, letting you feel every inch of him inside of you, all of his warmth on top of you.

The two of you were holding on to each other, almost merging with how close you were––moaning and panting as you raced towards your highs. Your lips slotted together messily and desperately but still lovingly as you got closer and closer.

“Can feel you clenching baby. Shit––You gonna come on my cock?”

You wrapped your arms and legs around him tight and nodded, “Yes, please Tommy make me come––”

He slid his hand down to play with your clit the way you needed and groaned as his pace got sloppier, his thrusts deep and hard. “Fuck, come on darling, let go. Wanna feel you drip down my cock, that’s it––”

Your fingertips dug into his back and he buried his face into the crook of your neck as your back arched again, a sharp moan ripping from your throat as your body shuddered under his before he came undone soon after, biting your shoulder as he filled you up.

You stayed like that, holding each other for a while before Tom started to get up slowly, kissing every inch of skin he could until he reached your lips, making you smile giddily. Though he wanted to stay in your arms forever if he could, he knew it was only right that he get up to clean you up.

After gently dismissing your whines and pouts for him to stay in bed and kissing the back of your hand before promising to come back soon––it wasn’t long before he had tenderly cleaned you up with a soft washcloth and gotten back in bed with you.

He pulled you close and wrapped his arms around you again, resuming the first position you’d been in when he’d first gotten home. You placed your head on his chest and looked up at him sleepily with a small smile which he returned.

He pressed his lips against your forehead and swiped his thumb across your cheek, lulling you to sleep yet again. “You are the love, the light of my life.”

You smiled and leaned up to kiss him softly. “And you’re my home.”

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland request #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fic #mob!tom holland #mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom holland smut #mob!tom holland oneshot #mob!tom holland fic

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whorangdan · 3 years

Text

pretty boy

part one of what i'm hoping will be a series. i decided not to split this so it is a bit lengthy, i apologize.

around 3.7k words, shy!virgin!joshua, praise kink, slight finger sucking, blowjobs, overuse of the word pretty, pretty boys being pretty, reader is shameless, joshua's a wreck, soonyoung cameo at the beginning, sorta proofread, sorry for any mistakes xx

you've always taken a liking to the pretty boy living in the apartment across yours. you've seen him around campus and had him for one of your classes so it wasn't like you were a total stranger, you two had interacted before. like the times the two of you left your apartments at the same time and awkwardly bowed your heads towards each other before the both of you went your respective ways.

you had to admit, the boy was cute. his black hair messily fanned across his forehead, and you've seen the way his eyes slip into crescent moons whenever you catch a glimpse of him smiling during class. you'd be lying if you said he didn't interest you.

deciding to get closer to the pretty boy, you approach him during class. from the short talk you had with him you found out two things. 1, his name, joshua, and 2, he was valedictorian of his graduating class in highschool.

you had given him your number, passing it off with some shitty excuse of "if any one of us ever misses class we can catch the other up, yeah?"

luckily for you joshua didn't seem to think twice about your lame excuse. he nodded, chuckling as you saved your number into his phone. you cursed your heart as you felt it flutter at his laugh. damn it.

______________________________________

the next time you saw him was at a café. he was a few people ahead of you in line. the boy picked up the hot chocolate he ordered and made his way to a table in the corner. cute. your thoughts were interrupted when someone behind you coughed, signalling for you to order. embarrassed, you mutter an apology and quickly order your drink to catch up to him.

"hi joshua! is it alright if i sit here?" you asked warily, slightly afraid he would say no. but of course, this was joshua hong.

he nodded, "of course. i was going to get in some extra studying before my next class but this is okay as well!"

"oh shit i'm so sorry. i could leave if you'd like?"

joshua brushes it off, "oh no you're fine, i've prepared enough, really!" he returns the smile you pass him and you feel your heart soar.

the rest of your time at the café is filled with mindless chattering of the project your professor assigned, the upcoming exam for your class, and joshua's work habits. you learn he loves being involved on campus, joining clubs and helping out when he can. you also learn he doesn't really take many breaks from school, instead opting to head to his apartment right after work.

"you really don't go out? not even by yourself?" you wonder, curious to how he even survives. junior year of college isn't the easiest. joshua blushes, not wanting to seem like a complete loser.

"well...i..i go to the shops a lot? to get food and stuff...and i go to the park a lot too? when i want to relax..." he trails off, not being able to think of anything else. his cheeks are red and he's shuffling nervously, awaiting your reply.

you simply smile. "that's cute, joshua. is it enough for you though? like, is it ever enough to feel completely free? sometimes it's good to forget about school, you know. there's a lot more to college than grades and studying," you tell him, sipping your drink. "not that it's a bad thing to focus on that stuff, of course." you add, not wanting to make him feel bad.

"i-i mean yeah..." he chews on his lip. "i'm kind of used to it all, i've been like this since highschool. sometimes it does become too much but there isn't really anything i can do about it." he finishes. you hum, impressed by his work ethic but also feeling pity for the poor boy.

"if it works then it works, nothing wrong with that. how about work?" you play with the straw in your drink.

"i work here, actually. it's not the most money, but it's enough for me to buy what i need, with a few dollars extra to buy miscellaneous items." he replies and as if on cue, an employee from the cafe strolls up to your table.

"hey, josh! you working later today?" the boy, who you recognize as soonyoung from one of your classes, wipes the table next to yours with a rag.

joshua nods, "after class, yes." soonyoung looks to you, stopping his cleaning.

"oh, hey y/n! i didn't know you knew joshua. small world, isn't it?" soonyoung laughs at his own comment.

joshua looks between the two of you, his brows furrowing. "you two know each other?"

"i have him for physics," you say at the same time soonyoung says, "i have her for physics!" the both of you stare at each other before soonyoung laughs and walks away, muttering something about how the world works in crazy ways.

you look over at joshua and he shrugs, sipping on his hot chocolate. you end up walking out of the café until the two of you need to part ways.

"see you in class, y/n!" joshua walks off hurriedly and you watch as the bunny keychain on his bag bounces with each step.

__________________________________

the two of you seemed to click together instantly and spent more time together than you first thought you would. you had a habit of going out together on the weekends and although at first it took an embarrassingly long time convincing joshua that it was okay to actually leave campus, now it's something he suggests himself. and it wasn't rare for joshua to spend the night over at your place, usually when the two of you are staying up late studying, but there are also times when joshua invites himself over, claiming he can't sleep. you don't understand how you help with that, especially since he sleeps on your couch on those nights but hey, you could never say no to him. you have been to his place before but most of your time together is spent at your place, seeing as you always have a full fridge.

of course with all positives come a negative, and you find your feelings for the pretty boy have become increasingly harder to ignore. through your time with him you've also learned he's incredibly fun to tease. the boy flushes at the mere mention of sex and doesn't seem to have any idea of even the basics. of course you aren't stupid and know very well what that means but joshua's always quick to shut any idea of him being a virgin down.

"i have done stuff before, y/n! i p-promise!" though the way he shuffles on his couch screams otherwise.

you chuckle. "i believe you, joshua, i swear. it's just fun to tease you like this. you become a blushing mess and it makes me want to ruin you." you tease, not really realizing the impact of your words until you notice joshua's cheeks flare up.

"...wh-what—what did you say?" joshua stutters, not daring to look up from where he's staring down at his hands.

"i was joking, shua! i wouldn't do anything to you if you didn't want me to." you laugh. hearing that makes joshua flush even more, your choice of words causing him to believe you want to do things to him.

"a-and...and if i wanted you to?" he admits after a couple minutes of silence. sighing, you take his shaking hand into yours.

"then i would do anything you'd ask. so long as you're okay with it." you shrug. joshua's mind is spinning, jealous at how you could be so casual with this while he was shaking like a leaf. it wasn't fair.

joshua slowly lifts his head and looks you in the eye, a look of determination settled on his face. "i want you to," his shaky voice betrays him and you smile fondly, reaching a hand up to stroke his cheek. "to ruin me." he finishes.

"you're so cute, joshua. really, you are. have you ever kissed anyone, pretty?" the new nickname has joshua almost whimpering, not used to this kind of attention.

he shakes his head, "n-no...i haven't really...done anything...with anyone..." his head drops in shame.

you lift his head to look at you, staring into his eyes. "there's nothing to be ashamed of, pretty. i'll take care of you, if you allow me to." your words have him shuddering and he nods, so desperate already.

"i need words, joshua." he swears he almost moans then, biting his lip and managing to form a shaky yes.

dragging your hand to his neck you pull him in for a kiss. his lips slot against yours and you can tell he's nervous by the way his fingers tap against his thigh. you intertwine your other hand with his in hopes of calming his nerves. luckily it seems to work, his kisses becoming less shaky.

as the kisses become hotter and more desperate you pull away and he whines, chasing your lips.

"it's okay, baby. just a little change of position." you drag his thighs to pull him into your lap and he yelps, hands coming up to grip your shoulders. joshua flushes as the nickname and the closeness of you two hits him simultaneously.

"is this alright, pretty?" you hum, bouncing your intertwined hands on his thigh. joshua opens his mouth to answer but his breath gets caught in his throat and you laugh. he's so unbelievably precious. joshua nervously smiles at you.

you pull him in for a kiss again, your hand going up to his hair. deciding to experiment a bit you tug at his strands lightly and he moans into your mouth. pleased, you pull his hips closer to you. you detach from his lips and kiss down his jaw and neck. little whimpers leave joshua's lips and you see him bite his lips as if to muffle his noises.

"uh-uh don't hide your noises from me, pretty boy." your thumb reaches up to tug his bottom lip out from under his teeth. joshua nods and you take the time to examine how gorgeous he looks right now. his lips are swollen from the kissing and biting, black hair messier than you could ever imagine, and a blush lays prettily on his cheeks all the way down to his collarbones peeking out from his shirt.

his eyes are glazed over with desire and need. when he looks down at your thumb you get an idea. hesitantly, as if to just test the waters, you poke at his lips with your thumb, circling his mouth. as if reading your mind, he slowly opens his mouth, allowing you to slip your thumb between his lips.

"suck." you order, the rest of your fingers curling around his jaw. joshua obeys, his tongue and mouth working together to engulf your thumb. his head bobs and when you apply more pressure to his tongue his eyes slip shut, a cute whimper leaving him.

"oh, you like that? sucking on my fingers like this? of course you do. does it make you feel good?" joshua's moaning at your words, his hips beginning to lightly rub against yours. you chuckle at his pathetic attempts to pleasure himself.

"already so needy? i haven't even touched you and you're already so hard." he whines against your thumb. taking your thumb out of his mouth you pull him into another kiss, basking in the way he moans into your mouth.

"let's head to your room, yeah? your first time shouldn't be on a couch." you tap his thigh and he shuffles off your lap, taking your hand and leading you to his room. walking in you realize you've never been here before, and suddenly you're reminded of who it is you're doing this with.

his room is very clean and neatly organized. you take a second to look around, taking it all in. his desk is filled with random school stuff and you catch a glimpse of his assignment from your guys' class. on his dresser you see cute little houseplants, some random bottles you assume to be colognes and perfumes, and what looks to be a projector.

"what's this?" you gesture to it, walking closer to examine it properly.

"it's a...it's a star projector...when you turn it on it lights up and fills the room with little stars...i like turning it on when i can't sleep..." joshua nervously mumbles, scared you might find it childish. instead, you smile and you feel your heart melt. god how much cuter can he get.

turning around you see joshua sitting on the edge of the full sized bed in the middle of the room. he stares up at you and you notice the way his eyes are still glossy, and when you see the tent in his pants you remember what you're here for. dragging him into a kiss you push him into the mattress and he moans against your lips.

you hold yourself up with one hand and reach the other around to tug at his hair, using his moan as an opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth. grinding down on his clothed crotch he whines pathetically into your mouth.

you pull away and rest your forehead against his to catch your breath.

"...please..." joshua begs, unsure of what he's asking for himself.

"what do you want, joshua? tell me what you want, pretty." you grind against him once more and he whimpers needily.

"i don't...i don't know..." his cheeks flare up and you're reminded he has absolutely no experience whatsoever.

"that's okay, baby. i'll help you. it's all about you today, so tell me what you want. we don't have to do anything you don't want to, you can say no at anytime." you reassure him, sensing how nervous he is. kissing his cheek you pull away, sitting against the head board. he makes his way into your lap and let's his head fall onto your shoulder.

"i don't think i'm completely ready for it yet...i'm sorry y/n..." he trails off and you swear you hear him sniffle. your hand reaches up to card your fingers through his hair, pulling him away from your shoulder to face you.

"hey, listen, shua. don't apologize. at all. it's okay. look at me," his eyes are still focused on your shoulder, not wanting to meet your gaze. he shifts his eyes to your face and you can see how desperate he is and how his eyes are laced with worry. "we don't have to do anything you don't want to."

he nods and you kiss his nose, then his cheeks, and forehead, and nose again until you're littering tiny pecks all over his face and he's smiling again. you kiss him again, more innocent this time, and you try to convey your feelings for him through this kiss, letting him know you care for him regardless of whether you two have sex or not. you can tell the message gets through to him by the way he shyly looks down when you pull away.

the scene would look incredibly awkward to anyone else. joshua's sitting in your lap, head on your shoulder, with you gazing down at him warmly. the mood is most certainly not matching the hard on in joshua's sweatpants. but you found it all the more endearing, and you weren't going to make anymore advances unless he wanted it.

joshua is reminded of the problem in his pants and he flushes once more. he may not be ready for the real deal, but he certainly wants to get off tonight. slowly, he grinds his hips. you don't even notice he's doing it until his breath hitches and he grips onto your arms for leverage, quickening his pace.

"..a-ah...i'm sorry...im just–" he's cut off with a moan and you nod at him, signalling you understand.

"i know, baby, i know. do you want a little help?" he nods furiously. you guide his hips a bit more, thrusting up to meet his moves. the friction has joshua's eyes rolling back, not used to such sensations.

"do you want to get off on my thigh, pretty? or do you want more? what more can i do hmm..?" you hum, stroking joshua's hair as he keeps up his movements.

he shakes his head, "help me, please. please help me—touch me please." joshua reluctantly slows his thrusts, staring up at you with his pretty eyes. smiling, you nod. grabbing his wrists you change your positions, now hovering over him.

you kiss down his neck, nipping and sucking at the skin. joshua melts into the mattress, his hands gripping the sheets. you play with the bottom of his shirt, looking up at him. he nods, lifting his arms to allow you to slip the shirt over his head.

you take a minute to admire his body. his torso is slim and his skin is even, small moles littering his skin here and there. he's so gorgeous, you think. you let your eyes wander up to his neck, hickeys beginning to bloom, a pretty contrast with his fair skin. you're interrupted from your thoughts when joshua makes a noise of embarrassment, hands coming up to cover his blushing face.

"don't hide from me, joshua. you're beautiful." you coax, grabbing his wrists to lower his hands. you smirk at the way he whines at the praise.

"th-thank you..." you stroke his cheek before continuing your way down his torso to his waistband. you thumb at his pants and he lifts his hips, allowing you to slip the sweats off his legs.

joshua's face is burning up, not used to being so exposed. you're settled between his legs, hovering over the pretty boy.

"you look so pretty like this, shua. such a pretty boy you are." joshua whimpers, your words of praise going straight to his cock. you litter a few more kisses on his torso, going lower until you reach his boxers. you give open mouthed kisses to his length, the dark patch by his tip spreading the more you toy with him. moaning, joshua thrusts up against your mouth.

"no no, pretty. patience. i'll take care of you i promise. good boys wait patiently, and you're a good boy, right joshua? you'll be a good boy for me?" you tease, removing his boxers completely.

joshua nods desperately. "y-yes...i'm a good boy...your good boy..." he whines at his own words, the praise becoming too much. his neglected cock lays against his stomach, precum leaking over the tip and onto his belly. the hair down there is neatly trimmed and for whatever reason that makes you smile. cute.

"of course you are, joshua. my beautiful good boy. waiting so patiently." his hands are moving about, not sure where to put them as he tries his hardest not to grind his hips up. grabbing his wrists you hold them above his head, pressing a kiss to his forehead while you're there. "keep these up here, don't move. you can do that right?" joshua whimpers, nodding.

letting go of his wrists you turn your attention back to his cock. giving kitten licks to the head you glance up, taking in all of joshua's needy noises and using that to motivate you. you leave little kisses on the head before you take him into your mouth, joshua's hips jolting in response.

taking his entire length in your mouth was quite easy, not that he was small or anything, but he wasn't the biggest either. joshua's moans spill out of his mouth, hips slightly bucking before you rest a hand on his hips, stilling his body on the bed. your tongue circles his tip while your other hand works on the rest of his length. the extra attention to his sensitive head has joshua whining, breath catching in his throat when you lick over his slit.

"feels good—oh god—feels so good..." you pull off his cock, your hand still stroking him. you notice the way his hands are still right where you told him to keep them, his eyes shut in bliss as your hand works to pleasure him. you find yourself smiling at how obedient he is.

his legs wrap around your waist, bringing you closer to him. leaning down you suck more marks onto his skin. joshua's moans are higher now, and with the way his hips are sloppily thrusting into your hand you're certain he's close.

"are you close, shua?" nodding, he opens his eyes to meet yours. "good boys ask for permission." your wrist works faster, thumb rubbing his slit.

"please...can i please...y-y/n...please can i cum..." he twitches against you, desperate for release. you jerk your wrist and joshua thrashes his head against the pillows, his thighs shaking with pleasure. you lean down to press soft kisses to his inner thighs, sucking marks onto the smooth skin.

"yes pretty boy, you can. cum for me, joshua." his back arches off the bed, streaks of cum coating his torso and your hand. you pull off when he's writhing from overstimulation, hands gripping the pillow above his head.

cute whimpers leave his lips when you clean him up, the post orgasm aftershocks combined with your gentle touches have him on cloud nine. joshua's eyes are closed, sweaty hair stuck to his forehead. as gently as you can you pull him into your lap, being mindful of how sensitive he still is.

you stroke his hair out of his forehead, caressing his cheeks while he comes down from his high.

"hello, pretty boy. you did so good for me, shua. you were wonderful." you coo when he opens his eyes, his lips turning upwards at your words. joshua opens his mouth to say something but he coughs last minute, throat scratchy from all his moaning.

"oh i'm sorry, pretty. here, drink up." you press a water bottle against his lips, guiding him. when he's had enough he pulls away, head immediately dropping back on your chest.

"how was it? did you enjoy it?" you question, intertwining your hand with his.

"it was good...thank you y/n." he smiles up at you, squeezing your hand. you return the smile, rubbing his back and coaxing him to rest. joshua's eyes shut and he drifts off to sleep.

sighing softly you shift your positions so joshua's laying next to you. he hugs your waist in his sleep, cuddling you closer to him and you wrap your hands around his naked waist. bringing the sheets up to cover the both of you, you let yourself rest as well.

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#sub seventeen #sub svt #sub joshua hong #sub!svt #sub!seventeen #sub!joshua #sub joshua #sub seventeen smut #dom reader #sub idol

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heymrstargazer · 3 years

Text

celebration time IT’S THE 100TH DAILY HC!!!! thank you for the continued support as i post these (often shitty) hcs, i appreciate it very much. with that being said, ive jammed together a few hcs ive posted, leading up to the backstory of one of of my most popular ones (neil kissing andrew’s forehead) in a little fic (also sorry if there’s spelling mistakes i had to hold this off until today despite that i had stuff to do so hopefully its alright ??)

daily aftg hc: Most would easily shove the day into a bad category because of the pouring rain and flashing lightning. Andrew would not. He easily relished in the gray sky peeking through the curtains, tucked safely under a mountain of blankets all shoved to his side after Neil grumbled that it was too hot.

Though, that was another reason it wasn’t a bad day. Neil was still curled up next to him despite the late hour of the morning. His red curls fell over his forehead, eyes, ears, and messily around his head on the pillow. Strands stuck up in unnatural poses that made the corner of Andrew’s lip quirk up.

“You have the worst bedhead,” he mumbled, half-hidden in the black duvet he tugged up past his shoulders.

Neil squinted his way. “And you have a blanket addiction.” To prove his point, one scarred hand crawled out from under the sheet and pulled back the corner of one blanket. Then the next. And the one under that. And so forth until he finally found the rest of Andrew, poked him once under the ribs, then got up and padded out of the room. He would forever regret the day that Neil found out he was ticklish.

With a sigh, Andrew trudged out of the room and into the quiet kitchen, a blanket wrapped over his shoulders. Neil was standing at the counter, blankly staring at the coffee pot with the bag of grounds in one hand.

“Space cadet,” Andrew hummed and grabbed two mugs. It was another name on the ever-growing list, one he’d been using more as the new semester approached.

As expected, Neil slanted an unamused look his way and continued the task at hand. He watched for another second, readying an excuse if Neil caught him staring, before turning to the fridge and retrieving a package of strawberries and whipped cream.

He laid the halves out nicely on a plate, sorting them into several different shapes before deciding on a frowny face. Each received one swirl of whipped cream, carefully placed in the center. A short huff interrupted the process, the one Andrew easily recognized to be Neil’s laugh, and was followed by an amused, “Did you forget something?”

The strawberries were good, the mugs were out, the whipped cream was open, the fridge was closed, as well as every other detail Andrew calculated. Stubbornly relenting, he glanced over to Neil with a squint. Instead of an answer, Neil’s eyes trailed down and he offered one small nod. Oh.

“Pants are an unnecessary social construct,” he concluded, topping off the last of the strawberries with a sprinkle of sugar. Neil’s lip pinched between his teeth, the closest thing to a smile he would allow himself, before one of his hands gently reached toward Andrew. It would be rude to turn down the offer, right?

Andrew slotted himself into Neil’s arms, tugging him down for one kiss before resting his head on Neil’s shoulder. He could smell the cheap laundry detergent on Neil’s shirt, and remnants of last night’s cigarettes embedded in his collar. Neil’s fingers scratched lightly at his scalp and some part of him wished they could do this everyday. Nicky was retrieving a few things from the Columbia house, Kevin was staying with Wymack for their last free week, Robin was off with friends, and the rain meant Neil was confined to dorms instead of his morning run. Which, in turn, meant they were stuck all alone in the dorm together. Not that Andrew minded.

He startled only slightly when Neil’s hand crept up the back of his shirt, squinting at the light after opening his eyes.

Neil pressed his lips to his temple for a moment before handing over a steaming mug. “And I’m the space cadet.” Blearily taking his coffee, and unsettlingly unaware of the time that passed, Andrew leaned against the counter to wake up for the second time that morning. He observed Neil, watching him move around the kitchen to put things away, wipe off the counters, and take a few sips of his own coffee.

Unlike Neil, Andrew wasn’t as shameless about his staring. He calculated Neil’s reaction times, glanced away before he could be caught. Neil didn’t even have to be in his line of sight for him to remember the blue of his eyes, the scars on his hands, or the pitying, judgmental expression on his face as he sent reporters into an early grave. It didn’t even have to be Neil at all. It could be his shirt hanging over the railing of the bunk, or his fucking socks on the coffee table. Sometimes it was the half-empty water bottles strewn everywhere from the windowsill to behind the TV.

Or, like now, it was the emptiness of the dorm. It would’ve seemed dead, scarily so, if not for the steady breathing of Neil next to him. He only indulged in silence like this with Neil. With Neil on nights when the rest of the foxes were partying. With Neil on weekends at the Columbia house alone. The stillness was scarce, but desired in a way too unfamiliar to be safe at first. Too open, too easily accessible for one person to enjoy alone, but, at the same time, too untrustworthy to spend with a stranger.

That could be all the murder documentaries talking, though. So, instead, Andrew focused on Neil. Neil who, for the longest time, was a stranger. Completely unknown to anybody but himself, the dead, and people who wanted his head on a spike. Anything the general public did know was a lie, or at least half of one, piled so high that Andrew never quite knew how Neil kept track of them all.

But, there he was, standing in the dorm’s kitchen, holding a whipped-cream topped strawberry up to Andrew’s mouth. Which he took, and regretted almost instantly as Neil happened to wipe said whipped cream all the way from the tip of his nose down to his chin.

“I hate you.”

He only shrugged back. “My hand slipped.”

Before Andrew could call out his lie, Neil busily attended to his ringing phone buried deep in his pocket. “Ah shit,” was his final declaration before hurrying to the bedroom, coffee abandoned and forgotten behind him.

Neil was supposed to be downstairs helping Matt ten minutes ago. Andrew knew that, but why should he say anything? He’d rather chalk it up to the amusement of Neil running around piecing together whatever outfit he could. Watching him gracelessly slip on his untied sneakers and nearly trip out the door because of it, casting one apologetic wave behind him.

Andrew wasn’t a liar, though, and most certainly not to himself. For the past months he had stretched out every day, minute, second of alone time with Neil. It was another difference in shamelessness, Neil falling on the opposite side this time. Neil wasn’t always actively looking for every single opportunity to be alone together. Prioritizing was welded and stitched into his DNA, only analyzing the appropriate times for everything and shoving down any other urges.

On the other hand, Andrew didn’t care if they were on the court or in a packed room, if he saw an out, he would take it. Nothing else mattered because Andrew knew their time was running short. His last year starting up meant the inevitable approach of his permanent departure. He hadn’t brought it up with Neil quite yet, they still had months to go, but they’d have to think about it soon. And he really didn’t want to.

Instead, on unhurried, quiet days he’d take as much of Neil as he could get. Even if it was small, even if it was in the middle of the worst kind of days, he’d take what he could get because he was going to miss Neil. And, even though that absolutely terrified him, it was the truth.

The truth had been a difficult thing between them, often ugly and unfortunate, but a key component to a type of trust they both desperately needed. Avoidance felt like a lie. Neil was the liar and Andrew was supposed to call him out, not the other way around. Not talking about it felt even worse than a lie. It was a nauseating truth they both knew, unspoken and untouchable out of the fear it provoked, yet it was still the fucking truth. Undeniable, terrifying truth. Soon they wouldn’t even see each other, much less have time alone.

After numbly changing into regular clothes (pants included), brushing his teeth, and cleaning up the mess on the counter, he stood in the center of the kitchen.

Never once had he kissed Neil in front of the foxes. That was another thing reserved for time alone. It wasn’t a regret, it was a fact. A truth, even. It didn’t go undiscussed, though. They spoke of it months ago, before Andrew worried every waking moment of leaving, and Neil said it was fine.

Weekends and one week breaks don’t always allow for alone time. The point of the question was to solve some of that issue. Widen their chances of affection to more than behind a locked door. Neither had taken advantage of it yet.

But, soon enough, the only people around to see it would be the press. The press couldn't keep their mouths shut, though. Matt could.

And, again, the truth wasn’t a pretty thing. But, maybe instead of avoiding it, they needed to work around it. Bee always told him small steps were still important. It was beyond important that he and Neil spent more than a night together at a time. And, if that meant receiving a kiss in front of Matt Boyd, then so be it.

He heard their voices outside, opening the door and looking once, then twice before spotting them just down the hall. Holding tightly to his courage with willpower alone, he walked their way. Neil was quick to see him, analyzing the look in his eyes and the hand Andrew gripped into his sweatshirt. Neil knew this routine, taking the clenched-jaw determination into account before wordlessly leaning forward and pressing one kiss to his forehead. Andrew wasn’t stupid enough to stick around for questions.

He settled the panic in his chest with one of the double fudge cookies in the cupboard. Small steps were important, and he would take as many as he needed, as many as he could, to use up every possible moment with Neil. Because he was going to miss him. And, while that was sickeningly unfamiliar, they would adapt. They would last through any emotional hurricane or attempted murder, and sometimes a kiss on the forehead was enough to assure him of that.

----

(also can i just credit this to @archiveofourfoxes ?? like she basically came up with everything except the actual physical writing. but anyway thank you for being my one person friend group i appreciate it very much)

#aftg #all for the game #tfc #the foxhole court #aftg hc #tfc hc #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #daily aftg hc

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mouthfulloftoothpasterry · 3 years

Text

Growing closer

summary: Harry and Loralie spend the night at Y/n and Milo’s flat for the first time and the kids spend time getting closer to the others parent.

warnings/disclaimers: mentions(?) of smut, its not much. i wont ever write much again because i hate writing it and i’m horrible at it so this is the most you will get, sorry! barely edited so sorry about that!!!

Y/n invited Harry and Loralie to spend the night. She decided to take their relationship to the next step and make plans for Loralie and Harry to come over and spend the night. She went down to the market earlier and got some ingredients for dinner, stress cleaning her flat, and helped Milo clean his barely used room before the two came over.

Now they sit in Y/n living room, Milo and Loralie on the floor playing together while Harry and Y/n set up on the couch together, sipping some wine. A random Disney movie plays, none of them are really paying attention to it, it’s mainly on for background noise. They finished dinner not too long ago, they had an arugula salad, then garlic Parmesan pasta. It was amazing and they all scarfed it down but now they are bloated and tired. “It’s almost Loralie’s bedtime.” Harry whispers, pecking Y/n’s jaw. She giggles, pulling her head away from him and standing up.

She pulls Milo up, kissing his cheeks. “It’s time for bed, babe.” She says, softly bouncing him on her hip while she takes him to his bedroom, glancing back to see if Harry was collecting Loralie and joining them. They settle the kids for bed, changing them into pajamas and saying their goodnights, tucking them into bed then checking for monsters and leaving a kiss on their heads.

They head back out to the living room, sitting on the couch and resuming their wine drinking and movie watching. They cuddle under a thick fluffy blanket, Harry’s head resting on her shoulder while they both sag into each other. “Thanks for inviting us over.” Harry hums, his lips finding her shoulders.

Y/n nods, kissing the top of his head. “It’s no problem. I love being around you guys.” Harry’s kisses travel further up, tickling Y/n’s neck. “Yeah,” he hums on her neck, his nose rubbing alongside her jaw. She giggles, pushing him away. “Our kids just went to bed!” She says, also a little nervous because this would be her and Harry’s first time if it goes anything past kissing. Harry shrugs, lifting her up bridal style and giving her a rough kiss.

Y/n laughs, jumping down. She wraps her arms around his neck, slotting her lips with his. Harry’s arms wrap around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer to him. He sloppily leads them to her bedroom door, knocking over an empty wine glass on the way, knocking into a wall, and finally accidentally slamming the door against the wall once he got to it.

Y/n giggles on his lips, pulling away to look around the corner. Milo and Loralie yank open Milo's bedroom door. “Shh!” Milo says, his hair already a mess and his eyes dropping with sleep. The parents hold on a laugh, Y/n covering her mouth with her hand. “Okay, I’m sorry. Let’s go back to sleep.” Harry whispers, turning the kiddies around and leading them back to the bedroom. Y/n joins them, a small smile on her face. They tuck them back in, kissing their foreheads and heading back to Y/n’s room.

“We better just head to bed.” Y/n says from her closet, tossing out some pajamas for herself. Harry nods, deciding they can try again another night- a night there their kids are being baby sat. They get cozy in bed, flipping on the TV. They watch some news for a bit, getting updated on a few things before they switch it off, turning off the side table lamps. They settle into bed, giving each other a goodnight peck. “There is always next time.”

***************************

When they wake up the next morning it’s absolute chaos, grumpy children and tired parents, everyone trying to get ready for the day and make breakfast. “No, sit down. You can play later.” Y/n says to Milo, pointing to his chair and setting his breakfast in front of him, some eggs, a half piece of toast, and two pieces of sausage. Usually she is lucky if most of his food doesn’t end up on him.

“Okay! Wear your pajamas for the rest of the day. Whatever, just go eat, please. And no more raising your voice at daddy or you're taking a nap early today.” Harry says, trying to keep his voice calm while he tries to settle down his two year old.

Y/n softly laughs, “looks like we’re both struggling.” Harry nods, still in his pajamas and his hair a mess. They have both been so focused on their grumpy children that they haven’t even had time to brush their teeth let alone take a gander in the mirror and see how frightening they truly look.

“Here’s some breakfast for your troubles.” Y/n offers a plate to him, setting a fork down on it making a little clink. Harry thanks her, joining the kids who are rudely eating with their hands and not even giving their forks a thought (but they were toddlers so no one cared). Y/n eventually joins them, setting her own plate down with a yawn.

“What are we doing?!” Milo asks, Harry tiredly laughing. “We are eating breakfast, mate.” He says, giving him a tired smile. Y/n laughs at the interaction, covering her mouth, “No, H, he means like… what are we doing today?” Y/n informs him, a giggle in her voice. Harry raises his eyebrows, “ohhh,” Harry nods, “yeah, I knew that.”

“Well we’re gonna let them go home, baby. Then I gotta go down to the shop.” Y/n smiles, pushing Milo's sippy cup toward him.

They finish up breakfast, Harry helping Y/n clean the kitchen before they finally get themselves ready and part ways, having a long goodbye.

*******************************************************

Harry was taking Milo out today and Y/n was taking Loralie out. Harry and Y/n talked and they thought it would help grow their relationships, even though Harry was already best buddies with Milo, and Y/n and Loralie were the best of friends they needed to become more or parental figures than best friends with the kids. So they arranged to take the other out and get to know them more, treat them like they would their own children instead of a friend.

Harry was going to take Milo out to a baseball game and Y/n is taking Loralie out to get Mani pedis, to the mall, then to dinner.

Harry and Milo were already at the baseball game, getting settled in while Y/n and Loralie are on the way to their nail appointment.

Harry and Milo get settled in their seats, the game not started yet. “Are you excited for the game, bub?” Harry asks, looking down where Milo is sitting in his stadium seat. Milo nods, giving him a thumbs up while he plays with his toy dinosaur. “Dinosaur.” he says, making it walk up Harry's arm before making the brachiosaurus bite his shoulder. “Munch munch! He got you!” Milo dramatically says, standing up in his seat. Harry laughed, gasping and backing up a little, “Ahh!” Milo giggles. Harry didn't even know where he got that dinosaur from, he didn't see it on the ride over so he must have stashed it in his pocket.

“Okay, bub, smile for mummy. Gotta let her know we made it here safe.” Harry says, pulling out his phone and opening his camera, leaning toward Milo and smiling widely, Milo smiling widely and closing his eyes, his small dimples poking out. Harry chuckles, pulling the phone away and sending the photo off to the little boy's mum.

Harry: Already having bunches of fun! *1 attachment*

“Loralie, text your daddy back and tell him I'm trying to drive” Y/n jokes, making Loralie look up at her while she's strapped in her car seat. “What?” she asks, making Y/n laugh, pulling into the nail places car park. “Nothing, Lora. Let's get our nails done, girl!” she sings, unbuckling her car seat and pulling her out, softly setting her down on the concrete and holding her hand while they walk into the nail salon.

They get seated together, Loralie giggling at the chair massaging her back. Y/n snaps a photo of her to send to Harry later when her fingers aren't wet. “What color did you pick out?” Y/n asks Loralie, turning toward her. “I got purple, daddy likes it.” Y/n heart swells, Loralie is such a sweet girl. “Good choice!” she smiles, looking at the light pink color she picked for herself.

“Are you having fun, Milo?” Harry asks, watching the boy eat a snow cone almost the size of him that he purchased for him not too long ago. Milo nods, smiling up at him while he spoons another mountain of the ice treat in his mouth, getting it all over his nose and around his mouth. Harry laughs, “Here, bub.” he laughs, handing him a paper napkin. Milo takes it, messily wiping around his face. Harry nods watching him try and get it off, glancing back at the game.

The announcer yells as the better runs to home base, making a home run. Milo cheers with the crowd, pumping his small fists in the air. Harry's eyes widened, laughing for the thousandth time today. How did he know anything about the game? Milo looks around, still excited even though the crowd has died down. Oh, he was only excited because everyone else was.

“Our nails are so cute!” Y/n cheers, walking out of the nail salon. Loralie squeals, looking at her purple fingers and toes. “Lets send daddy a photo!” Y/n says, putting her hand out, Loralie quickly joins her hand between their bodies. Y/n takes the photo, sending the one she took earlier of Loralie and the one she took just now to him before getting them back in the car.

Y/n: Our nails are done :) *two attachments*

They zoom to the mall, hopping out and walking around first, looking at some stuff through display cases, perfume, pretty (but super expensive) jewelry, and some old lady jewelry. Then they head up the escalator (Y/n and Loralie holding hands extra tight because Loralie was scared), going to look around at all the different stores they have.

Loralie stops a candy store, gasping and pointing to it. Y/n instantly laughs, leading her to the candy store. “Okay, we're only getting a little, we aren't telling daddy, and we are gonna eat it after dinner, ‘kay?” Y/n asks, Loralie looking up to her, nodding as if she was keeping the most precious secret. They collect their candy, definitely getting more than they should have, but it was worth it to see the little girl so happy.

Loralie squeals, running out of the candy store, one arm clutching the candy bag and her other hand still holding Y/n’s hand. Y/n laughs, walking with her. Y/n had expected to feel a little awkward today, not sure what to talk about or how to treat Loralie but she's had a bunch of fun with her and she already feels that parental role taking over.

They end up in a random kids store, filled with stuffed animals, toys, kids jewelry, and clothes. “Look!” Loralie basically yells toward Y/n, showing her some play pearls. Y/n smiles, taking them and nodding. “Like what daddy wears!” she gushes, making Y/n pout, she's the most adorable girl. “Yeah, let's get them and you can match daddy.” Loralie nods, pulling another off of the display and holding it up to her. “For Milo” she smiles. Y/n pouts, kissing the top of her head.

“Sounds good, babe”

“Want a hat or something, Milo?” Harry asks, looking around the gift shop with the boy. Milo shrugs, more interested in making his toy dinosaur crawl up Harry's leg. Harry chuckles, pulling the toy up on his hip, “let's get you this hat” he says, flopping the small hat on the boy's hat before stomping over to the cash register, feeling heavy and bloated from all the crappy baseball stadium food they ate today.

They buy the hat, Harry placing it back on the toddler's head and walking back to the car with him on his hip since he was half asleep. “I've had a great day with you, bub.” Harry says to Milo, almost to the car. Milo sleepily places his head on top of Harry's, closing his eyes, “me too.” Harry's heart squeezes, thinking he could cry. “I'm happy you did.”

“Dinner was good!” Y/n smiles, throwing away their trash from their huge slices of food court pizza. Loralie smiles, wiping the rest of the greasing from her face on the back of her hand then wiping it on her pants. Y/n laughs at her actions, wiping off her hands. “Well, I guess it's time to go meet daddy and Milo!” she hums, pulling her up on her hip and heading back down the escalator to hop back in the car to drive back to her flat.

They get back to her flat in about twenty minutes, heading up the stairs. She unlocks the door, placing a sleeping Loralie on the couch before she heads to her bedroom, changing into some pajamas. She hears a soft knock on her door, unlocking it and opening it to find Harry with Milo sleeping in his arms. Y/n laughs, “just lay him on the couch” she whispers, pointing over to the couch.

Harry places the boy on the couch softly, making sure not to wake him. He walks over to the counter, watching Y/n get a glass of water. “How was your day?” he smiles, leaning over the counter, kissing her. “It was a lot of fun.” he admits, smiling widely. Y/n smiles widely back at him, “Good. I had so much fun with her. We had a blast.”

Harry smiles, “That's amazing to hear, babe. Now I gotta get the sleepy girl home” he peers over the couch, watching his daughter sleep for a second. Y/n shrugs, “or you could spend the night again?” she smiles, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest. Harry smiles down at her, kissing his head.

“Yeah, maybe I'll stay the night.”

please reblog if you liked it and tell me what you thought!!!

taglist: @romionefp @harrystyles-tpwk @wholesomestyles @evanjh @hopeyoustaythenight @harrysddtittys @harrysdimple05

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allyouneedisbuck · 3 years

Text

Honey, Honey

Summary: it's mother's day & harry wants to do something to celebrate you from him and leo.

Words: 1.4k

Notes: i haven't touched my little lion series in so long, and i saw a sweet card at target yesterday and inspiration struck. & i wanted to post something since it's been a few weeks.

Timeline: mother's day in may, about six months after the engagement to harry. leo is almost two. (for the rest of the little lion series see my masterlist.)

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Harry wasn’t entirely sure how to bring up Mother’s Day with you. Leo was still young, just a little under two years old. And while he was sleeping through the night, and babbling away, he was too young to even comprehend the holiday. Harry knew you weren’t really expecting anything.

But the two of you had been together for over a year now, you lived with them, and even if Leo wasn’t yours biologically, you had made it clear he was your son.

But... Last year, the three of you had skipped over Mother’s Day. Your relationship was still treading through milestones. Meeting families, moving in… So it had been pretty much forgotten about. This year though, Harry wanted to do something for the day, he just wasn’t sure what.

He knew you enjoyed the brunch served at the place downtown, but Leo couldn’t really handle super large crowds and long days yet, both a staple for Mother’s Day brunches.

He had ordered flowers to be delivered, but that didn’t really feel like enough. He could try breakfast in bed, but you were a light sleeper and most likely not be able to sleep through the surprise.

“Gem.” He groans as he flickers through the cards in front of him. “Not only do I have no gift, there are no cards for like, adoptive moms.”

Gemma laughs softly. “H, you know she’ll love it no matter what. I’m sure it’ll mean the world to her that you want to do this.”

Harry shakes his head as he slams another card back into its slot. “I know that. I just want her to know that I appreciate her wanting to be with Leo and I.”

Gemma sighs. “She does, Harry. And she’ll love whatever you choose for her because it’s from the heart.”

Harry picks up another card and sighs. Too many of the cards were dedicated to wives, which you weren’t yet, work was so busy for the both of you planning hadn’t even really come up yet. He assumed a card from Leo would be a little easier, as long as the card didn’t mention genetics, it would work.

But Harry just couldn’t find the perfect one. Gemma sighs again when Harry doesn’t respond. “H, it’s a card. You’re overthinking it because you’re nervous. Just pick one with Leo’s favorite cartoon and she’ll love it. I have to go. I love you, bye.”

Before Harry can respond Gemma ends the call and all that’s on the other end is a dial tone. Harry looks at the cards in front him, exasperated.

“Excuse me?” He spins around and finds a woman who looks to be around your age. She’s looking up at him nervously and fiddling with the car in her hands.

Harry smiles politely. “Yeah?” He asks quietly as he steps out of the way of a teenager shuffling through cards and panicking.

She smiles up at him. “I overheard you talking and…” She glances down at the card in her hands before holding it out to him. “My mom, she isn’t my mom biologically, and cards are tough.”

Harry hesitantly takes the card and looks down at it. It’s a small card, with Winnie the Pooh, Kanga and Roo on the front. Harry’s eyes scan over the words printed on the front. “This is… This is great. Thank you. I-“

The woman smiles and shakes her head. “Mother’s Day was weird when I was young because I knew my mom wasn’t biologically my mom, but she was always there. You know?” Harry nods. “Finding good cards sucked, especially because so many talk about getting their genes or even the favorite kid jokes are awkward.”

Harry drops the card into his basket. “Thank you so much. It’s… We just got engaged and it’s her first official Mother’s Day with us. I want her to know how appreciative I am.”

“She will.” The woman takes a step back. “Anybody who is this worried about a card definitely shows how much they care without it anyways.” She smiles and offers a small wave before turning on her heel and leaving Harry alone in the aisle.

He looks down at the card again and with a newfound confidence in his ability to find something good for you, he ventures further into the store.

Leo’s sitting on Harry’s hip as he messed with the flowers on the dining room table. Your card is propped against the vase while the gift bag Harry had filled was next to it.

“I really hope mama likes this, little lion.” Harry murmurs as he takes a step back, finally happy with how the bouquet looks.

“Mama?” Leo questions as he rests his head against Harry’s shoulder. He lets out a yawn and Harry laughs. He had forced the poor toddler out of bed much earlier than he was used to.

Harry nods gently. “Yeah, mama. We’re gonna celebrate her today.”

“Dada.” Leo murmurs as he points haphazardly to the set up. There’s a knock on the door and Harry rushes to open it.

“Styles?” The man questions tiredly. Harry offers a sympathetic smile as he nods. He was sure this wasn't the man’s first or last breakfast delivery of the day. “Just need you to sign since you paid with a card.”

Harry adjusts Leo on his hip as he messily signs the receipt the man is holding up on the wall for him. The man looks at Harry before sighing. “Have a nice day.”

The bag handle digs into Harry’s fingers as he carries it back to the table while holding onto a sleepy Leo. “Gonna put you in your chair while I set up, then we can wake mama up.”

“Mama?” Leo repeats the word as Harry gently sets him down and straps him in. “Mama. Mama!” He calls louder, out for you.

“No! Stop!” Harry glances down the hallway panicked as he listens for any sign that you’ve woken up. When no movement comes from the hall, Harry lets his shoulders relax and begins to pull plates out of his kitchen.

It doesn’t take long to set up the already cooked food, less than half an hour before he’s picking Leo up again to go wake you up.

His nerves have been high all day, maybe all week. They’d been high since he’d begun planning this whole thing out. But right now was an all time high.

He was proud of what he’d planned, but worried you would be overwhelmed. Did you even want to celebrate? Had he gone overboard?

“Too late.” He mutters as he quietly opens your bedroom door. You’re sitting up and scrolling through your phone.

When you look up, a wide smile stretches across your face at the sight of your boys. “Good morning, loves.” You say quietly. You lock your phone and sit up straighter as Harry sits Leo in your lap.

“Mama.” Leo murmurs. He slaps his hands against your cheeks and squishes. The act makes both of you laugh.

“Hello, little lion.” You say once he’s taken his hands off. “What’s got you and daddy awake?” You look over at Harry with a knowing stare.

“We’ve got a surprise for you.” Harry says quietly. “If you wanna get up.” You nod and stand with Leo clinging to you.

You’re all still in pajamas, and Harry’s sure his hair is sticking in all different directions. The three of you make your way down the hall, Harry leading.

You freeze when you enter the dining room. Your eyes move quickly to take everything in. Harry watches nervously as he tries to gauge your reaction.

“Happy Mother’s Day.” He finally says when you take another step into the room. Leo lets out an excited, “Mama!”

You press a kiss to the baby’s head and finally move fully into the room and towards the table. “Oh, Harry.” You murmur as you look down at the spread.

“Do you… Is this okay?” He asks hesitantly. He realizes he maybe should have just bit the bullet and talked about today with you. This feeling of not knowing was killing him.

You spin around to look at him with teary eyes and a bright smile. “This is… This is more than okay. I can’t believe you did all this for me!”

He lets out a relieved laugh and leans down to press a kiss to your lips. “Anything for the best mom in the world.”

You place Leo into his chair and strap him in as Harry pulls out a chair for you. Once the three of you are settled, Harry hands the card over to you.

“Happy Mother’s Day, love.” He says quietly as you tear into the card’s envelope. “We’re so grateful for you.”

“How do you learn to be a mom?” asked Pooh.

“You just follow your heart,” Answered Kanga.

Notes: hello all. please enjoy this fluff piece for the upcoming american mother's day. hope you're all safe & doing well.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles x fem!reader #single dad harry #little lion series

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wandsandwheezes · 3 years

Text

505 | G.W

WARNINGS // SMUT 18+, If you know the song, you know what’s coming. Mutual pining, kissing, a lil sadness, George being a simp,

I wanted to celebrate me reaching 500 followers (something I legit never saw happening) by writing a fic for you all!! I went back to one of my favourite songs... it seemed pretty fitting.

ps. please don’t post my work elsewhere, it breaks my heart!!

I'm going back to 505

If it's a 7 hour flight or a 45 minute drive

In my imagination you're waiting lying on your side

With your hands between your thighs

505 New Harleston St. The place where it all began, your childhood home. It had been years since George had seen you and every part of him dreaded the thought of you loving someone that wasn't him. It hadn't been easy for him to move on, when every beat of his heart was beating for you. As he turned the ignition of the car and rolled out of his driveway, the destination was set in his mind. Each road and turn was like muscle memory as he set off on the forty-five minute drive in the pouring rain to see you. He prayed you still lived with your parents and that you weren't in the arms of another man. He pictured you in your bed, back arching as you touched yourself to the thought of him. The imagery was sinful, and distracting, so distracting that he had almost veered the poor ford Anglia off the side of the road. He however couldn’t pull himself away from the soft melody that was your moans as they echoed around his brain.

Only when he was parked outside your house, looking up at your window, which was only dimly lit, did he contemplate driving back home. But he was sure he was meant to be there, after all even if it had taken a Seven hour flight, he had to be there to see you.

He stepped out of his car, the heavy rain drenching him from head to toe within a few moments. He checked his watch, it was nearly midnight and he hesitated once again. He then noticed the kitchen light flick on. 'it's now or never' he thought, his feet dragging him to your front door, ignoring the doorbell to knock gently on the painted wood.

The knock on your door caused you to spin around and look at the clock, confused at who would come knocking at this time, you assumed it could only be that your cat, Ernie, had snuck into the neighbour's house again. You quickly walked towards the door, words falling from your lips before you could even process who was in front of you. "I'm so sorry, Mrs Jame- George?"

Stop and wait a sec

Oh when you look at me like that my darling

What did you expect

The way you looked up at him with a look of pure innocence and love drove him absolutely crazy. An old oversized t-shirt was hanging against your thighs as your eyes went wide with shock. you blinked a couple of times, thinking your mind was playing tricks on you. He didn't disappear, however and something inside of you roared as you darted forward, hand sneaking up to rake your fingers through the hairs at the back of his neck as you pulled him down and into a kiss. You didn't care that his clothes were soaking wet and that the rain was gusting into the house, you had George in front of you and that was the only thought plaguing your mind.

It was as if all the time you had spent apart had never happened, your body slotting perfectly against his as soon as he had you in his arms again. The kiss you shared was passionate and needy, before you knew it, he had you trapped between him and a wall, making out like teenagers again, your hands frantically pulling off his jacket and letting it fall to the floor.

"Georgie.. I've missed you." Your eyes were wide, looking up at him innocently and full of passion, it was a look he was obsessed with. The nickname you used for him brought back so many old memories that he knew that he had to have you back and he would do anything in his power to call you his once more. His hands had slipped under the t-shirt to rest against your waist, the feeling of his large hands on your warm skin was familiar and intoxicating. "I couldn't stop thinking about you, my angel, I miss us."

His confession had you weak at the knees. Despite the fact that your break up was messy, the love you shared for each other had never left. Having both gone through the war with each other and gaining trauma that neither of you knew how to process, resulting in more frequent arguments, less affection, more ange and more more resentment until you both decided it was best for the both of you to part ways. Over the years, you had taken the time to heal but George however, grew insecure and lost confidence of his own worth. He didn't know how to move on in life without you by his side.

That's why kissing him felt so natural, his lips and arms felt like home to you. It was why you were willing to risk it all and take him back. It was also why you were sure you were sure you'd let him fuck you senseless in the hall out of desperation. You were still in love with him and a part of you had truly never stopped loving him, even after all this time.

I probably still adore you with your hands around my neck

Or I did last time I checked

You'd pulled the boy up to your room, stripping him of his damp clothes and admiring every inch of his skin, you had to pinch yourself every time because having him here felt like a dream. As you lay on your bed, your head on his chest, you listen to the in and out of his breath, letting his heartbeat remind you that he was in fact here, and not hundreds of miles away.

He didn't try to initiate anything you didn't want to do, talking into the early hours about everything you'd done since you'd last seen each other. You confessed that you would take him back if he wanted you. George's eyes went wide at that statement, his breath hitched in his own throat. He took the opportunity to kiss you again, the soft, open mouthed kisses turning quickly to a more passionate exchange as your tongues brushed against each other. He pulled you on top of him so that you were straddling his hips, his hands guiding your own to gently rock back and forth against his.

You were grinding against him, feeling the desperation for him grow inside you as you were reminded of the mind blowing sex life you used to have, you adored him even as he was fucking you relentlessly, hand wrapped around your neck. You missed being touched the way he touched you. You picked up the pace, causing a string of moans to fall from your lips, it was enough for him to buck his own hips up to meet yours. As if he could hear your thoughts, a hand moved up to grasp at your neck, a smirk plastered across his lips. "Always knew you liked that, Princess."

The string of moans that fell from your lips were pure filth but nevertheless, music to his ears. You were adults, pining over one another, in a situation not too dissimilar from one you had with him as teenagers, sneaking away from your group of friends and up to the dorms. Coincidentally, it was the same day he'd told you he loved you.

Your mind was flicking back and forth to the present and the past as George's hands trailed gently up your sides. The look in his eyes was pure lust as he pulled you in for another kiss. His kisses were intoxicating, and you couldn't stop yourself from going in for another, and another, and another.

"We don't have to do this, not if you're not-" You cut him off with a simple kiss, before pressing your lips to his neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses down to his collarbone, slipping between his legs with a content sigh. "I want this George, I want you."

You had started by palming him through his boxers, watching as his head fell back into the pillow. There was no rush, just gentle, meaningful movements. When you finally pulled his cock from his underwear, his heart sped up, you rested your cheek against his thigh as you stroked him, his hand smoothing over your hair as warm moans fell from his lips. You looked up at him through your lashes, as amazing as George's more dominant side was, to see him completely at your will as his cock was in your hand made you feel so powerful. Your hand was perfect, small enough that when you wrapped your hand fully around, the squeeze was enough for him to feel like he was in heaven, not to mention the way you looked at him. You truly were his angel.

He had flipped you over before you could even take him in your mouth, he was gentle as he pulled your shirt over your head, kissing every part of skin he could. This moment with you was everything he was waiting for, to be with you, intimate and in love. He slipped your underwear to the side before pushing into you. It felt like everything you could've needed in that moment, he didn't make it rough or push you. He simply made love to you as the sun rose, mumbling words of pure praise against your lips. "You're doing so well, Princess, taking me so, so good."

His fingers found your clit, rubbing circles with his middle and pointer finger as he brought you close to your release. His hair was hanging messily as his hips rocked into yours. "That's it baby, cum for me, such a good girl."

When you came over him, your mind went blank except for the thought of him. It was perfect, he was perfect, he was repeating over and over that he loved you. Godric, did you love him too.

Not shy of a spark

A knife twists at the thought that I should fall short of the mark

You and George had been back together a whole month before he offered for you to move in with him. You’d be lying if you said that you hadn’t hesitated when he asked. You were worried that perhaps since getting back together things were moving too fast again, but as soon as he’d shown you his beautiful home, all worries seemed to fade. When George bought the house, he imagined what life would be like with you sharing his home - your home together. Everywhere he looked, he imagined what your future children would be doing as they ran around the halls. Everything he seemed to do was with you in mind.

It was one particular evening where you’d come back to your now shared home to find George sat alone on the sofa, all of the lights still turned off. He hadn’t even noticed you enter, he was silently sobbing as tears rolled down his cheeks. Thoughts swimming in his head of not being good enough for you, that he fell short of being everything you needed. He didn’t know how to process these feelings, he hadn’t learned how to cope with the negative thoughts, let alone how to tell himself that they were all bullshit.

You noticed the tears glistening off his cheeks, lit only by the lamppost outside, quite literally dropping everything, not caring where it fell. You pulled the crying boy into your arms, his head resting against your chest, the salty tears transferring to your t-shirt. Once he had come to his senses, no longer lost in his own bubble, the bubble in his throat prevented him from speaking, hardly able to string a sentence together. You did your best to console him, but the pain in his chest felt like someone had stabbed him in the chest and continued to turn the knife.

“I- I know don’t fucking deserve you.” He was babbling over his words as you rocked him, playing with the hair that he had grown out especially for you, pushing the strands out of his eyes and off his forehead. George only managed to calm down by the grace of your soothing hum and gentle kisses into his hair. He still felt the pang of sadness that didn’t want to shift, as a shallow breath rattled around his lungs. “You are enough for me George, I love you and I’ll always love you.”

But I crumble completely when you cry

It seems like once again you've had to greet me with goodbye

You were sitting together on the sofa, your head on his shoulder and your fingers intertwined as you watched a movie, something you’d insisted on bringing into your home together. You had been feeling overly emotional In the past week, breaking down into tears over nothing. Just yesterday the sight of orange peel made you tear up. You’d told Fred about it today and he simply laughed at the notion that George had ‘made the orange naked’. While Fred found it hilarious, George hated the sight of you crying. Crumbling completely into a mess to care for you at the very sight of a tear.

Fred and Lee often joked over dinner that George was ‘whipped’. He shrugged off the taunts, retorting back that at least he had a girlfriend. To which the other two boys imitated, un-phased by the younger twin’s attempt at seeming menacing. Lee told you about how they used to call him ‘Whipped Georgie’ back at Hogwarts, a nickname you knew you had heard too often in the quidditch changing rooms. You marvelled at how it was nice to have them all back, but really the group was incomplete without Alicia and Angelina here, you note that you must have them over for dinner soon, or at least another girl’s night.

More recently, however, you and George had been like passing ships in the night, It was kicking into the busiest time of year at the shop and he more often than not crawled into bed with you in the early hours of the morning, only for you to kiss his forehead goodbye as you left for work only a few hours later. The mornings didn’t get any easier, leaving his warm arms another day, to return to him not being there. You feared he would slip away again, a heavy feeling sitting in your stomach as you wake for your day, to see your boyfriend only just slip through the door. You had greeted him once again with a goodbye, your eyes hanging on to his for a pleading moment, as you considered never leaving his hold again.

I'm always just about to go and spoil a surprise

Take my hands off of your eyes too soon

George had strolled into the shop, ready for the afternoon and evening rush, his eyes deep set and tired. It was back to sleepless nights for him. Fred noticed the exhaustion in his brother’s eyes, making a quick decision to send him home. They had only just yesterday had the conversation that George had seen almost so little of you that it didn’t even feel like you were together. That feeling broke his heart.

There were so many thoughts running through his head as he walked home. The usual quick walk was slowed way down as he pondered on every running and passing thought. He was a man filled with worry, what if you had stopped loving him? He couldn’t lose you twice.

He arrived home to you, his precious girl, sat on the bed sobbing, looking down at something in your hands. His whole body ached, seeing the tears physically fall, when you smiled up at him his heart softened, perhaps it wasn’t as bad as he thought. He caught a glimpse of the small blue box in your hands and his eyes widened. George Weasley was always shit at keeping secrets.

His mind told him ‘fuck it’ as he got down on one knee next to you as you were sat on the bed. A thousand ways of saying what he wanted swirled around his brain, he wanted to say the right words and make it a special moment for you. Every moment you had shared together flew past his eyes, it was like watching a star go supernova. Every bright smile and giggle, every kiss and longing look. It was the perfect movie shared between the two of you.

“I think you already know what I’m about to say, and based on the fact that you’re still crying I hope this isn’t a bad time. But Merlin, I’ve never wanted anything more than I want you. I want you to be mine forever. I’m sorry that I still haven’t healed and I’m sorry that I wasn’t there when you needed me the most. My life is you and if I don’t have you, it’s thunderous and wet and lonely. So, my sunshine, will you marry me?

I'm going back to 505

If it's a 7 hour flight or a 45 minute drive

In my imagination you're waiting lying on your side

With your hands between your thighs

...and a smile

The red-haired boy was sitting at his desk, a dim lamp emitting only the faintest glow. Once again his mind was on the thought of you. The thought of you waiting for him at home, His gorgeous wife, her fingers desperately trying to find a release at the thought of him. He contemplated running home, in a full jog, just to devour you. He flicked back to the day he travelled to 505, how he was so desperate to see you, that he would’ve climbed every mountain just to kiss your perfect lips and see your perfect smile.

George realised that It was never 505 New Harleston St. that kept pulling him back. It was you. You were 505.

@starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @gcdric @theweasleysredhair @whiz-bangs78 @weasleysflowr @minty-malfoy @vivianweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @witch-and-a-half @wand3ringr0s3 @vogueweasley @loony-loopy-lupinn

#george weasley x reader #george weasley fic #George Weasley #fred and george #george wealsey imagine #george weasley smut #Harry potter #harry potter fic #writing #505 #arctic monkeys

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mellowyandere · 3 years

Text

SCP Academia Containment Breach

Reader: F

Characters: Aizawa Shouta (main); Shigaraki Tomura

Rating: M

Summary: Dr. L/N tries to find somewhere safe during a containment breach.

Length: 1604 words

Warning: Yandere, mentions of death, mild dub-con/non-con.

Hurried footsteps carried you down the dim hallway. The only light source coming from the red alarms periodically placed along the corridor. Sirens blared overhead as you clutched your files closer to your body.

CONTAINMENT BREACH. ALERT CONTAINMENT BREACH. ALL PERSONNEL REPORT TO YOUR DESIGNATED SAFE ZONE.

KNOWN ESCAPED SCPS INCLUDE…

You listened as the automated message listed off a series of varying classed SCP’s, straining to hear if any of them were assigned to you. If you made it through this alive maybe you’d consider resigning. They say memory wipes aren’t so bad.

No, you couldn’t leave. You had seen the way SCP’s were treated, you couldn’t abandon the few you were in charge of. Leaving them behind to someone cruel just didn’t sit right with you.

You were approaching a four way intersection in the compound, you’d need to take a left if you wanted to get to his enclosure. A rather interesting male humanoid SCP you had dubbed “Eraserhead”. You were too far away from any safe zones, he was your only bet at survival.

Reaching the intersection you moved to turn left before stopping dead in your tracks. Guttural screams and snarls echoed down the poorly lit hallway. It sounded as if some SCP’s were fighting, and since you didn’t know if Eraserhead had breached containment you didn’t want to test your luck and end up dead.

To your right gunshots and more screaming discouraged you from going that way. You’d have to go straight, or back the way you came. Behind you was a dead end in the facility, that being your small section for testing and personal office. You’d be screwed if anything came down that way and cornered you, so you decided to go straight.

You were running now, panting as you attempted to fill your lungs with oxygen as you descended further into the foundation, away from your zone of expertise. As you progressed deeper into the facility the sounds of gun shots and screaming became quieter. Even the overhead message had ceased playing, leaving only the blinking lights of the alarms to illuminate your path.

Squinting as you ran you saw a form slumped over on the ground. Honestly you don’t really know how you had managed to make it this far without bumping into anyone else. Running up to them you recognized the uniform they were wearing. A Class-D Personnel. Humans typically on death row, brought here instead to die some cruel and unusual way all in the name of science.

You slowed down as you approached their body, intent on checking if they were alive but stopping just before you fully reached them. Their head and arms were completely missing, but there were no traces of blood. Instead, black ash surrounded them, as if their body parts had been reduced to dust. Unfortunately for you, you knew exactly who the culprit was.

Your hairs stood on end as a raspy cackle sounded above you.

“Ahhh Dr. L/N, you weren’t supposed to see that.”

You jumped back from the corpse, yelping and dropping your files. The papers scattered all over the floor. You looked up to see one of your assigned SCP’s smiling down at you, sharp teeth seemingly glowing despite the dim light of the hallway. Curse this stupid power outage, you didn’t even see him.

“De.. Decay what are you doing here..” you mumbled the nickname you had given him pathetically as you began to step further back. As if it was even possible his grin grew wider, chapped lips cracking as his red eyes squinted in delight.

“No need to be afraid little human, you’ve always been so good to me. I’d never dream of hurting you.” With that he fell down from the ceiling with a thud. Standing up to his full height he opened all six of his arms, as if inviting you in for a hug. His blue hair fell messily over part of his face.

“In fact I was just on my way to find you! Thank you for saving me the trouble…” He began to shuffle closer, slowly approaching your smaller frame as if you’d bolt at any second. Which, to be fair, you would have if you believed you stood a chance.

“Me? Why on Earth were you looking for me?” you asked while frozen in place as he continued to approach. If any of his hands got five fingers on you, you were in for a bad time.

“You’re kidding right?” he questioned. “All humans do is poke and probe at me, treat me like shit, hurt me, experiment on me,” he snarled. “But you…” he continued in a softer tone, his hands reaching out for you. “You talk to me, make sure I’m okay. Treat me like I fucking mean something… like I exist. Such a sweet little human… but you’re always behind that stupid glass. Glass I can’t fucking decay. But now I’m free. No, no, I won’t hurt you. I want to touch you.. I want..”

The SCP stopped mid sentence, his eyes taking on a far more sinister appearance as he snarled at the space behind you. He lunged for you, desperate to get you in his arms. Suddenly, something wrapped around your waist and you couldn’t help but scream as you were quickly dragged away from the six armed creature. Your back crashed into a broad chest as black tendrils violently whipped around the hallway.

“GIVE HER BACK!” The creature rushed forwards fully intent on dusting the bastard who dared to take you away. His hands wrapped around the tendrils, ready to plow straight through. Much to his surprise nothing happened, except him violently being thrown back.

Bright red eyes cut through the darkness of the hallway, penetrating the fallen creatures own red orbs.

“Back off or I’ll kill you.” A deep voice rumbled against your back.

“Eraserhead!” you exclaimed in relief. While Decay was known to turn anyone who got to close to ash with violent outbursts, the SCP behind you was far calmer in nature. That didn’t make him any less dangerous, but between the two you’d pick him any day.

“Dr. L/N will be coming with me. If you know what’s good for you, you won’t follow.”

Decay hissed in anger but backed down. Eraserhead had a far larger stature than the other male. With his tendrils filling the hallway, as well as the inability to currently dust the man, the extra arms made no real difference in a battle.

“You best watch your back… you and I both know I’m not the most dangerous thing around here…” With that the blue hair creature slunk down the hallway, off to go decay whatever was unfortunate enough to cross his path.

You released a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding and slumped backwards against Eraserhead.

“Thank you, you really saved me aha,” you nervously chuckled. Craning your head back you peered up at the large male, his bloodshot eyes gazing down at you. The tendrils filling the hallway retreated back into his form, large black lines that almost resembled scars housed them all over his body.

“You shouldn’t have left your area, I would have come to you. Others momentarily got in the way, but not anymore.” With that he scooped you up. You squeaked out in surprise as he carried you bridal style in his arms. You were too exhausted to fight against his decision to carry you.

“That rectangular piece of plastic you use to enter and exit my area, where is it?” The creature asked.

“My key card? In my pocket where it always is, why would you need it? You’re already out.”

“There are still doors I can’t open without it, and we’re not out enough. It’s not safe here. I need to take you somewhere safe for us to nest.”

You gawked a bit at his statement “Wait, nest? What are you talking about? You can’t get all the way out this facility, it’s impossible. Look, let's just go back to my office and lie low I promise I won’t let them hurt you.”

The creature couldn’t help but scoff at your remark. “Little one, I’m far stronger than I appear. I’m taking you out of here to protect and mate, and with your key card we can open any door we need… you said so yourself a couple months back. Full access level 5 whatever.”

At this you began to struggle a bit. Mating? Nesting? What the hell was he going on about.

“Eraserhead no. I don’t understand, but we can’t leave.”

The tall figure sighed, as if he was merely reprimanding a child. “I didn’t want to do this but I need your full cooperation. Don’t worry, next time you see me we’ll be somewhere safe my little human.”

With that he leaned down and latched his mouth onto your own. You cried out in shock, and he took advantage of your surprise to slip his long appendage into your mouth. He threaded his hand into your hair and slotted your head back, and soon enough you felt hot liquid begin to seep down your throat.

Your struggling increased, small fists pounding against his chest. You had no idea he was even capable of doing this, what the hell was going on! The longer he held you there the sooner you realized you had no choice but to swallow the warm fluid. Satisfied that you finally drank it he pulled back and you desperately gasped for air. Your vision became hazy, until finally you fell limp in his arms.

#aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x reader #yandere aizawa #yandere shouta aizawa #tw: dubcon #bnha aizawa #aizawa x you #SCP Academia #yandere eraserhead #aizawa #aizawa shouta #tw: noncon

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loveislattes · 3 years

Text

Good Morning (Darkiplier/Reader) Fluffy Smut Drabble

Request: As a drabble, waking up sleepy and content next to your choice of either Dark or Infelix. Can just stay fluffy and adorable or they can be a little more, dirty ;)

Important: Reader is gender-neutral but is a vagina owner!

Warnings: Smut (obvi), pet names, light choking, power play, shadow tendril/tentacles, and no use of protection.

A/N: This was written quickly on my phone while at work so please excuse any errors. I was just excited to get something down on paper!

As always, if you would like to support me, I have a Ko-Fi (here) for donations and I usually have a few slots open for commissions (unless life gets in the way)!

Ever so slowly, the awake world began to invade your sleepy space as you rolled onto your side with a throaty groan. The alarm hadn't gone off yet so you knew it wasn't time to wake up, but you weren't brave enough to crack your eyelids and check those blaring red numbers to see just how long you had left.

As you were starting to fall back into a light slumber, your bed partner curled up around you with a deep groan. Goosebumps ran down your arms as the prickles of his short beard dragged across your bare shoulder.

"What time is it?"

Desire shot through your body at the sleepy rasp whispered right into your ear and you couldn't resist wiggling back against him in turn, whimpering as his straining cock pushed against your bare thighs.

"I haven't checked," you admitted softly, "Early though."

"Good."

The burn of his beard slowly gave way to soft lips and easy nibbles that trailed up your shoulder to the lobe of your ear. Sharp teeth pulled a heady gasp from your lips while his fingers drew your top thigh back over his, his dick slotting perfectly against your cunt.

"That means I have time to ravish you before the fools are demanding my attention," Dark purred huskily, "That is, if you're up to it, darling."

Wordlessly, you reached back and sunk your fingers into his shaggy locks, gently directing his mouth to your throat as you stretched your leg back further to offer him room.

"Always, my love," you murmured.

"Hmmm, that's my good pet," he rumbled lowly against your throat.

You were thankful for the late-night romp that left you both nude because it meant there was no barrier to impede his fingers from slipping between your thighs.

"Fuck!"

Every swirl of his fingertips pulled weak tremors from your form, clit still hypersensitive from the blessed tongue lashing he'd treated you to hours ago. When a rather rough convulsion made you yelp, he slowed his motions and brought his hand to your hip instead.

Before you could even question him, he said, "If this is going to be too much-"

"No! It's not that. I'm just really sensitive still. I want this. Maybe just avoid my clit for a while?"

He didn't respond other than a warm hum and immediately you knew he was reconsidering the whole ordeal. He did that a lot, got overprotective over silly things- even over himself. To help sway him back to the dark side, you hastily lifted your hips and wiggled so his head was pushing ever so slightly against your entrance.

His nails dug sharply into your skin as he unleashed a demonic growl.

"I want you, please," you begged softly.

"You're playing with danger, darling, but I suppose I shall humor you this once."

He snapped his hips forward without hesitation and buried his cock as far as possible with that first thrust, and in that same motion, his idle hand came to encircle your throat.

At that moment, it felt like you had shattered into a million delicious pieces. Your mind instantly shifted into that carefully crafted space that was reserved for Dark, and Dark only, as he invaded every inch of your body. Having had him again after many loving, arduous rounds a few hours ago... it was like you'd never stopped in the first place.

"Look at you," he grunted softly, "My perfect little pet, still so wet and ready for me, taking me so perfectly."

"A-Always, Dark, always ready!" You gasped out between breaths.

Your blood pumped heavily in your head as he tightened his fingers and quickened his thrusts. The slap of skin on skin synchronized almost perfectly with every thump of your heart and momentarily you wondered if he could hear your heart race to time it so perfectly.

Aching to touch him, you snagged his wrist tight and ran your thumb back and forth over the top of his hand, mumbling frantic "I love you"s as he hastily pushed you toward the end.

"And I you, my love."

He suddenly withdrew his hold on your throat, fingers dancing down your curves until they came to rest just below your navel.

"May I touch you now?" He purred sweetly.

"Fuck, Dark, yes!"

His nails left a stinging trail down your stomach and over your mound, making you clench hard down on him before gracing you with a sweet burst of pleasure.

"Fu-uh-ck," he hissed sharply.

Before you knew what was happening, you were facedown. Dark manhandled you onto your knees, hips high in the arm and back arched low, giving him the perfect leverage to thrust back in without pause.

As if planned by the universe, there was a knock at the door the moment he started to speak.

"Hey-"

"If you do not disappear within the next two seconds, I will spend the next millennia eviscerating you from the inside out, over and over until I tire of seeing your entrails at my feet. Am I clear?!"

Your cheeks reddened in mortification as your body reacted undeniably to power and rage in his voice, hips pushing back into his, needing more of his touch.

You felt as if bruises would form instantly as his hands took place harshly on your hips, jerking you back again as he thrust in with a snarl.

"You like that, do you?" He sneered darkly, "Is it knowing that I would kill to remain in you for just a second longer, hmm? Or maybe… just maybe, it's the knowledge that if I didn't love you so, I could easily do the same to you?"

An uncontrollable whine escaped as you buried your face in the pillows, but suddenly his hand was around the back of your neck, jerking your head up almost painfully.

"Tell me, darling, am I right?" He asked, voice shaking with the strength of each thrust of his hips.

You found words to be nearly impossible as he fucked you rough and frantic, the taste of your orgasm teasing at the edges of fruition.

"Yes, yes, oh fuck- yesss!"

He released his hold only to shove your face back into the pillows, head aside to allow you just enough room to breathe, with a death grip on the nape of your neck to pin you in place.

"Come for me then. Let me feel what my power does to you."

The sound of the headboard slamming into the wall thundered through the room, rivaled only by the tortured cries and moans pouring from your lips. And then you felt that familiar coil of cool energy between your thighs. If you could look, you knew you'd find one of those dangerous black shadows wrapped around your hip, dipping just below your belly, and the thought alone made you tighten. You knew he would never hurt you, but you'd also seen the pain and horror his powers could amass.

His name became a jumbled prayer on your lips as you shuddered under him. Every thrust of his cock, every brush of that life-stealing tendril, it coalesced into a mighty and fierce wave that stole your breath.

Tears smeared messily between your face and the pillow as your pleasure erupted with finality. You couldn't help but release a sob of utter devastation at the bliss wrecking your nerves, core clenching painfully tight around him as if trying to keep him in and never let him go.

"Oh fuck- that's it, pet," he snarled brokenly, "Like a fucking vice- agh!"

The sensation of his cock throbbing and emptying hot into your cunt sent you over another little wave, tearing a distraught moan from deep in your chest.

It was overwhelming in the best of ways.

As if knowing your turmoil, Dark released all holds on your body and gently brought you both onto your sides- oh so similar to the way you had started.

Despite panting for breath like you'd just run a marathon, you couldn't help the goofy smile that curved up your lips.

"If there weren't so much to be done, I'd cancel it all just to lay here and see that beautiful expression on your face, darling. You are absolute perfection," he murmured, planting a great kiss on your cheek, "But alas, I have some… unfortunates to lead."

#dark/reader #fanfiction #smut #fluff #morning loving #power play #pet names #light choking #no beta we die like the plebs we are

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