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merrybloomwrites · 2 months

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I Hear Them Calling (Chapter 5)

Story Summary: Alpha Harry Styles and omega Y/N Y/L/N meet under less than ideal circumstances. Overtime their paths will cross and they will be drawn to one another in ways they never expected.

Chapter Summary: Harry and Y/N spend the weekend together in Chicago

Previous Chapters: Prologue ; Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3 ; Chapter 4

Word Count: 3.8k

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“So, what are we going to see in the city?” You ask Harry. You’re both on the couch eating fruit, since Harry insisted you needed some sort of snack to hold you over until lunch.

“Well, first, we should swing by your hotel. Figured you might want to get changed,” he replies. You laugh and nod in agreement. While you wouldn’t mind living in Harry’s comfy clothes doused in his scent, you know that going in public, with him, wearing his clothes, is admittedly a terrible idea.

“Then obviously some lunch,” he continues. “And after that, I have no idea. Maybe see where the day takes us?”

“I like that plan,” you answer. Normally you like to have everything totally scheduled out, but you’re excited to see what experiences might happen naturally.

“We can keep your things in the car while we’re out and stop back here to drop them off on our way to the arena later,” he adds.

“Am I staying here tonight?” You inquire.

He pauses, trying to find the right words. “I would like for you to stay,” he finally says. “It’s just, you’re only hours out of a drop. And you said that hasn’t happened for a long time. I would like you to stay close to me in case something happens. And uhm, my alpha is fairly attached to your omega at the moment.” Harry blushes and his eyes look down at his fingers as he finishes his sentence.

“Harry?” you say, and his gaze meets yours. “I’d love to stay.”

His anxious face instantly morphs into one of excitement and he says, “Fantastic! Okay, I’m going to call a car to take us to your hotel and we can start our adventure.”

“It’s only a couple of blocks, we could walk it.”

At this he seems nervous again and he quickly explains, “It’s probably best if we drive. We’ll be more under the radar that way, and I don’t necessarily want to be seen in public too much.”

“Oh, right, of course. That totally makes sense.” There’s an insecure part of your brain telling you that it’s because he doesn’t want to be seen with you, just some average nobody, but you tell that voice to shut up. Harry would never be so callous, so shallow. He simply wants his privacy.

A few minutes later you’re back in your quiet hotel room. Harry is waiting in the car, so you quickly get changed and freshen up. You spray on our scent blockers and are disappointed that you no longer smell like Harry. He put on blockers before leaving his hotel as well so now it will be hours before you’ll catch his scent again. If you’re lucky. You remind yourself this whole situation is temporary, and you should take what you get.

Your belongings are mostly packed so it only takes a minute to get everything together. When you reenter the car you let out the breath you’d been holding while separated from Harry. You admit to yourself you are still feeling the effects of the drop, and you allow yourself to revel in the presence of an alpha. Normally the idea that you need to rely on an alpha for anything would make you mad, but not right now. Not when that alpha greets you with a shy smile as you slide into your seat next to him. And especially not when that alpha reaches over so your hands are resting close enough to just barely touch.

It's a bit of a drive to the restaurant Harry picked out, and you pass the time making small talk. You discuss your families, hobbies, favorite vacation spots, anything you can think of. Nothing is all that crazy or interesting, but Harry is locked in on every word you say. It makes you feel warm inside, having his full attention and knowing he truly wants to hear what you have to say.

Harry is so absorbed in the conversation that even he is surprised when the car stops outside the restaurant. He gets out, quickly moving around the car to open your door for you and lead you inside. The diner he’s chosen is lowkey, giving hole in the wall vibes, and you think it’s perfect.

It’s not empty, but the crowd there doesn’t bat an eye as you two walk in. A quick glance around the room shows that you’re the youngest people there by far. Everyone is engaged in conversation or reading the newspaper or a book they’ve brought with them. It makes you feel comfortable, relaxed, and you know you’re going to enjoy this lunch.

You’re seated together at a table towards the back, and a waiter comes over to take your drink orders. After he walks away it’s quiet for a moment, both you and Harry reading through the menu. He comes back a few minutes later to take your food orders. Once he leaves again you fold your hands on the table in front of you and look at Harry.

He’s sitting the same way, hands folded just inches from yours, and his eyes are already on you.

“So,” he hesitantly begins. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Like, of yours?”

He laughs before saying, “No, just, in general. But I am also curious what your favorite of mine is.”

You think for a moment, and you catch him chuckling and your very serious thinking face. “I guess all-time favorite song might be ‘Annie’s Song’ by John Denver. It was my parents’ wedding song, so we played it a lot at home. Makes me think of them.” You smile and think again for a moment before saying, “And my favorite song of yours, well, that’s harder to choose. I think maybe ‘Canyon Moon’. It’s just so fun, and upbeat. It’s the first one that really hooked me on your music.”

“That is a fun one, yeah. Kind of bummed it’s off the setlist if I’m honest. And I too love a little John Denver occasionally.”

The discussion on music lasts until your food is placed on the table. The delicious smell alerts you to how hungry you are, and you immediately dig in. Conversation stops again so the two of you can eat.

As Harry settles the bill (which you attempt to help pay for, but he quickly denies) he says, “We’ve got about an hour before we need to head back to the hotel and get ready. There’s a park nearby. What do you say about a little stroll?”

“That sounds perfect,” you reply.

He stays close to you as you walk the couple blocks to the park. His hand reaches out towards you multiple times but he pulls it back like he’s afraid to make contact. It keeps your mind spinning, wondering what’s he’s thinking when he does this. Is it an unconscious gesture? Is it a protective one? Does he just want to be touching you the way that you want to be touching him?

Once in the park he leads you to a bench by a small lake. The bushes grant you both some privacy from the few other people who are walking nearby.

“So,” he says timidly. “How are you feeling today? After the drop and everything.”

You take a moment to assess in order to answer truthfully. “Honestly, I feel pretty good right now. Like, better than I have in weeks. I think my omega really needed that break.”

“You said your meds lost their potency right? And that’s been going on for weeks then, at least since the first show you came to. How have you been coping with all of that? Do you nest at all?”

“I tried nesting in the past, but it never brought the peace people said it would. I guess cause most people are betas now so it’s harder to get alpha or other omega scents. And without those nests aren’t as comforting.”

“That has to be frustrating. I’m sorry it’s so difficult for omegas. I wish things were different for you guys, I truly do.”

“Thanks. Me too. Can I ask, why do you keep your alpha status a secret?”

“I guess because people have certain views of alphas. They think we’re mean and controlling and yea, a lot of alphas are these days. I just didn’t want people to judge me before getting to know me. Plus, some record labels and managers don’t want to work with alphas. Say they’re too unpredictable or difficult.”

“Seems like it’s tough for alphas too.”

“Yea, but at least we’re safe. No one tries to cross us or control us. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have your free will taken away by an alpha command.”

“It’s definitely not fun,” you say, shivering at the memory of being frozen and silenced just by a knothead alphas words.

Noticing your slight distress, Harry places his hand on your knee and says, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up, I know you have bad memories with that.”

You’re instantly soothed by him, and you reach out to place your hand on top of his. You have no idea where the courage to touch him like that comes from, and you’re about to pull away when he flips his hand until your palms are touching and he’s able to intertwine his fingers with yours.

The sound of your purring is sudden and surprising. It’s not something that happens often, and you almost cut it off, but you see the smile that breaks out on Harry’s face. You sit there, holding hands, and purring softly. Neither of you tries to start a conversation, just enjoying the moment.

Harry’s phone ringing brings you both back to reality. His driver is on the line, reminding Harry that it’s time to head back in order to stay on schedule. He lets go of your hand as you leave the bench, and though you’re disappointed, you remind yourself of the media frenzy that would ensue if Harry was caught holding hands with a girl.

You’re especially soothed when he reaches out for your hand again once in the privacy of the car. Just like the earlier drive, you get to know each other better, this time discussing favorite books at length.

He insists on carrying your luggage into the hotel for you, and letting you have the first shower. You’re in the living room finishing your hair when Harry walks out of the bathroom, having finished his own shower. He’s wrapped in a towel, water dripping off his hair and down his chest. You pray that your suppressants still work well enough to at least prevent unwanted slick production. Because you would literally die of embarrassment if the telltale scent of honey filled the room.

“Sorry, so sorry, forgot to grab clothes,” he says as he dashes into the bedroom to grab an outfit from the dresser. He jogs back into the bathroom and closes the door behind him. You let out the breath you’ve been holding and quickly reel in your thoughts to ensure your face isn’t still beet red when he comes back out.

You force yourself to focus on perfecting your hair in an effort to erase the image of a practically naked Harry. Or at least, erase temporarily. While you’re in his presence. It works, because by the time he comes out again, now dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, you’ve fully contained your thoughts.

“Car will be here in five minutes, you almost ready?”

“Yup, just gotta grab my phone,” you say before walking back into the bedroom to get the phone from where it’s been charging. Harry’s scent is strongest here, likely because he’s been sleeping there for weeks, plus he was broadcasting his scent the night before during your drop. It’s so potent that you almost feel dizzy. You shake your head in an attempt to clear it, quickly get the phone, and rejoin Harry in the living room.

He's distracted during the drive over, checking updates on his phone that he’d been ignoring during the day. It’s hectic but organized at the venue. There’s so much to be done but it’s a well-oiled team and everyone does their job well. You hang out in Harry’s dressing room for the most part, wanting to be out of the way.

There’s a brief moment after Harry is ready and before he needs to go on stage, and you need to find your place in the crowd. You’re finally alone again, and the two of you are standing facing each other. He reaches out to hold both your hands between his and he says, “I have another question for you.”

You’ve been asking each other questions all day, most lighthearted, some serious. But you can tell by his tone that this may be the most important one yet.

You meet his eyes, encouraging him to go on, and after a moment of nervous hesitation he says, “I’ve really like spending time with you. I’ve known for awhile that my alpha had formed a connection with your omega, and I thought that’s where my feelings for you came from. But after today I know that I just like you. You’re funny, and smart, and beautiful. So, uhm, I was wondering, will you go on a date? With me?”

You’re speechless for a moment, so you nod your head yes while trying to process everything he just said.

“Can I take you out tomorrow morning for brunch?” He continues.

Finally, you find your voice and say, “Yes, Harry, that sounds perfect.”

The brightest, most boyish smile spreads across his face. Harry’s about to speak again but there’s a knock on the door and a voice telling him he needs to leave the room in one minute.

Harry quickly says, “Can I scent you? Before you go out there?” You again nod yes, knowing that he needs this, needs to protect you in this way even though you’ll be in a VIP section with plenty of security.

Plus, you’ve decided that you’d have to be insane to ever say no when he asks that question. One of his large hands cups the side of your neck while his nose moves to the scent gland on the opposite side. It slides against your skin, and you’re surrounded by his mouthwatering smell. He presses one gentle kiss directly near your mating spot before he pulls back, gives you one last dazzling smile, and walks out the door.

Jada walks in to find you still standing, dazed, in the middle of the room. “Need a minute?” she asks with a knowing smirk.

“Just, uhm, gonna use the…bathroom, real quick,” you stutter out before fleeing through the door to the attached restroom. You quickly take some deep breaths and grab toilet paper to clean up the slick that had escaped. Thankfully you’d held it in until Harry left, and Jada, being a beta, would be none the wiser. Still, you need to pull yourself together and get your desire under control before you embarrass yourself.

Once you’re ready she leads you to the VIP section. You feel amazing, completely opposite from the night prior and you know that you owe it all to Harry. Not once during the entire show do you feel dizzy, or anxious, or any of the negative emotions you’ve been feeling for weeks. Instead, you feel electric, especially during the handful of moments when Harry’s eyes find yours in the crowd, sharing a special look with you.

You’re screaming along with all the other fans as Harry runs out of the venue. Jada then leads you out to the car the two of you will be taking back to the hotel. The ten-minute drive turns into almost thirty with all the post-concert traffic.

Back at the hotel, you knock on the door to Harry’s room. Technically it’s also yours now, and yes, you do have a key, but it still feels weird just walking in while you know he’s there. It takes a moment but finally he’s opening the door for you. As you take in his appearance, you realize you made the right decision to knock. His hair is, once again, wet, he has pajama pants on and is quickly throwing on a shirt. Obviously he’s just showered again, and you know you would not have survived seeing him with any less clothes on.

“There you are,” he says, smiling and pulling you in for a hug as the door closes behind you. For a moment you’re surprised, but quickly melt into the embrace.

Before pulling away he says, “Why don’t you change into some comfy clothes, and we can put on a movie.” You head to the bedroom, grabbing your own set of pajamas before changing and washing your face. Once you feel clean and comfortable you join Harry in the living room.

He’s already laid out blankets on the couch and pulled up the latest Rom Com on the TV. After confirming that you want to watch it, he presses play and you snuggle under your blanket.

You try to pay attention to the movie, truly, you do. But Harry’s right there, sitting next to you, looking perfectly cozy and domestic, not a single scent blocker covering the delicious smell that’s started to feel like home to you.

It’s not surprising when you start to subconsciously shift closer and closer to him. He notices the small movements, and without hesitation, wraps and arm around you and pulls you close to him. He adjusts the blankets so that you’re tucked in before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

Feeling safer and more content than you have in possibly your entire adult life, you fully relax. The next thing you know, you’re being gently placed into the bed. Sensing that you’re awake, Harry smooths down your hair and says, “Get some sleep, love,” as he pulls the covers over you.

***

Waking up with Harry’s arm slung around your middle is unexpected, but entirely welcomed. Everything feels so warm, so safe. His arm unconsciously tightens around you, and you snuggle deeper into the embrace.

It isn’t long before Harry wakes up, stretching out beside you and saying, “good morning.” His husky morning voice has you practically melting, but you still manage a “good morning” in reply.

Neither of you move for a while, choosing to lay there holding each other for as long as possible. It’s nice, once again feels rather domestic, and you have to stop yourself from imagining this happening every day. Your mating spot practically tingles at the thought of you and Harry bonded to each other, raising pups together in your home.

An alarm rings on Harry’s phone, thankfully stopping your daydream from getting too out of control. You take turns getting ready before heading to the car for your first official date.

Brunch is absolutely perfect. Harry had booked a private room to ensure fans and paparazzi wouldn’t be able to spy on your date. He steps away to use the restroom at one point, and you think about how it’s going so far. It’s just like any first date you’ve ever been on; better even.

It’s almost easy to forget that he’s this world-famous popstar. When it’s the two of you together, focusing on each other, he really just becomes the man of your dreams. The fact that he’s a respectful and gentle alpha is the icing on the cake.

After brunch you head back to the hotel to repack your bags before flying home. Harry watches sadly as you prepare to leave him. You ignore your own feelings for the moment, not wanting to cry in front of him. But truthfully, the fact that you have no idea when you’ll see him again is borderline devastating.

Once you’re packed and ready to go, Harry pulls you in for a hug. You stand there holding each other for a minute before he pulls back. You look up at his face, mere inches from yours, and note how his eyes are looking between your own eyes and your lips. His hands slide up your arms, your neck, until they’re cupping your face. He leans in and presses one simple kiss to your lips.

His eyes meet yours again, silently asking if that was alright. You can’t help but lean back in, giving him a couple kisses of your own.

It doesn’t go any further, and that alone brings you some peace. He’s not just doing this all to get into your pants the way many alphas would. Honestly, this whole weekend with him feels more like puppy love than anything.

“Would it be alright if I scented you before you left?” Harry asks before adding “Since you’ll be at the crowded airport and everything, it might be safer if you smelled like you have an alpha.”

Some omegas might find this controlling, overwhelming, overprotective, but you know that’s not his intention at all. So you agree, and close your eyes as he leans in to scent you once more. It’s electric having him so close to you. It takes all your self-control to hold back a needy whine when he presses a kiss to your scent gland.

“One more thing,” he says after pulling away. You watch in confusion as he walks back into the bedroom. He comes back out a minute later holding his green Pleasing sweatshirt. He hands it to you, and you can immediately tell he’d scented that as well. Without hesitation you slip in on, catching the satisfied smirk on his face as you do so.

You get a text from Jada letting you know a car is there to take you to the airport. Harry pulls you in for one last kiss, and having to leave his embrace is nearly physically painful for you. After saying a final, quiet goodbye, you grab your bag and walk out of the room.

All the stress of traveling seems miniscule compared to separating from the man who is quickly becoming one of your favorite people, not to mention is the alpha your omega seems to crave.

You arrive home pretty late that evening. The last thing you want to do is wash away Harry’s scent, but you desperately need a shower after an afternoon of travel. Thankfully you have his sweatshirt to burrow into.

You sleep peacefully that night, still surrounded by Harry’s scent, knowing the last text you received before bed was a message from Harry saying, “Sleep tight, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

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AN: Thank you so much for reading! So sorry for the long delay between chapters! Hoping to get the next chapter out much sooner!

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@theekyliepage@numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry@ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess@houseofdilfs@shaquille-0atmeal-1@kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye@n0vaj3an@snwells@drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305@creativelyeva@daphnesutton@selluequestrian@lovingfurypanda @stardream14 @tbsloneely@eversincehs1@boomitsallie1@rose-garden-dreamz @fictionalmensblog @buckybarnessimpp @ottawaoutlander @storyschanging

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you

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usetheeauthor · 1 year

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I’d Stop The World… (+18 MDNI)

Sub!Arisu Ryohei x Plus!Touch-Starved!Reader

Summary: After nearly losing your friend, Arisu, during the witch hunt game and experiencing the King of Spades, you realize the fragility of life and just how important he is to you.

NO READ MORE LINE BREAK ADDED DUE TO GLITCH

A/N: Wrote this because there just isn’t enough Arisu fics and my boy deserves some lovin’

Word Count: 3.8k words

Warnings: spit kink, dirty talk, doggystyle, scratching, biting, crying during and after sex, squirting, creampie, using underwear as gag, cum eating, if you squint ass worship/body worship, body hair kink, multiple orgasms, existentialism, mentions of violence, graphic language, talks of death and impending sense of doom, depression, markings/hickies, hair pulling, oral (m & f recieving), fingering, choking, hand kink/finger sucking, size kink (reader likes how small Arisu is despite him being really tall)

You wondered how it got to this point. How did you end up in a place where you constantly had to fight for your life? A place far from home. Not even existing in your normal universe.

You remember wanting to get away from all of your problems back in America, a year ago. You ended up moving to Japan. Being a city girl, you didn’t think much of the difference in perspective aside from the language. Luckily for you, your mother was a teacher who’d taught English in Japan so you were pretty familiar here.

You mostly kept to yourself, no friends in question. Just how you intended it. All you wished was for a peaceful life. Something you felt hadn’t been granted to you ever since your father lost his battle with depression and your mother developed early dementia. Believing she was too far gone, you’d left. Leaving only a phone number on file to the nurse back home only in the case of emergency. You never visited your mother since.

Now…all you wanted was to visit her. To hold her. To tell her you were sorry for leaving. Her nurse is probably calling you now. Maybe even your friends and family have called you as well. But you’ve pushed them away and you have no way of letting them know that you’re lost in the borderlands with no idea whether you’d be able to get back home.

Along the way, you met countless others who’ve been forced to play the games, too. Countless lives lost. It was enough to wear you down.

But then you met the courageous, intelligent, and inspiring Arisu Ryohei. When you wished to die on the “distance” biking challenge, he encouraged you to love in hopes you’d one day see your mother again. That was your motivation.

However, the closer you got, you realized just how much he meant to you as well. You wanted nothing more than to leave the games with him and start a fresh life together. Maybe even introduce him to your mother.

Then, the night of the Witch Hunt came around. People frantically trying to win the game to proceed and retrieve the Ten of Hearts card. You learned that Arisu’s visa would soon expire at midnight but he’d been tied up somewhere around the hotel. With the help of some players, you were able to save him. Only for Aguni and his goons to continue to attack Arisu nearly beating him to a pulp. Now present day comes around and you’ve made it to the King of Spades level in which he’s mindlessly killing people. An absolute massacre.

The fragility of your mortality comes into question. You’ve met so many great people who you’ve come to know as friends. Usagi, Kuina, Chishiya, Ann…Arisu. People who’ve taught you how to let people in again after building walls for so long. Now you’re at risk of losing them all and never seeing your mother again.

You needed to confess your feelings for Arisu if tomorrow’s your last day. This meant regardless of whether those feelings are returned. Obviously, you sensed that Arisu had feelings for Usagi as he also has a close friendship with her.

“Are you okay?” Arisu asks, snapping you from your panicking thoughts.

The group has separated in pairs, currently searching for supplies to bring to a safe house (abandoned hotel) far from any of the hot zones.

“Mhm.” You simply say, nodding.

“You seem tense…which is fair. We are being chased by a madman with sub machine guns,” He says with a small smile. You give no reaction, continuing to search through the ruins of the convienence store.“Seriously, what’s wrong?”

You sigh. “If I tell you, it’ll make things different between us.”

“I thought we were friends. Nothing could possibly change between us.”

But that’s exactly what I want!

“Okay, I will tell you,” You began. “But I have some rules.”

“And they are…”

“Number one: don’t interrupt.”

“But—”

“Shhh, I said ‘don’t interrupt’. Number two: When I say what I have to say, you don’t have to answer me. At least not yet. You can tell me some other time later just not now.”

“O…kay.”

You inhaled and exhaled deeply, eyes squeezed shit before opening them once again. “Arisu…I…I like you. Like a lot. I long to touch you and hold you. To kiss you. I feel like I’m alive when I see that you’re okay. I’ve been thinking of my motivations for keeping alive. I wish to see my mother again but also I wish for a life where I can be with you and things would be normal. I wish for all our friends to be alive and well. I wanted to let you all of this before it’s too late. When I thought I nearly lost you at the Beach, I felt so sick and lost. I realized that I just couldn’t bear the thought of not having you. You make me feel less alone. I don’t want to go out with so many regrets when I could’ve said something while I can. I release this truth for a lighter conscience. So in case I die tomorrow…Ryohei, I love you.“

He’s stunned by your confession. Rendered speechless. You awkwardly give him a small smile before packing up some food in your backpacks. The rest of the trip back to the safehouse was quiet aside from the one time you wept having to go through a street littered with bodies of players not much older than you.

The group sat in a circle in the middle of a fire outside of the safehouse, talking about their fears and dreams in life. Every now and then, you noticed Arisu glancing at you before quickly averting his gaze.

Deciding to call it a night for wnough rest and energy, the group had gone to their designated rooms. Before you enter your room, you spotted Usagi and Arisu speaking together in the hallway. You knew his feelings for her were stronger but it didn’t hurt any less knowing.

Climbing in bed, you curled the sheets around you. Silently crying to yourself, you here a knock at your door. You wipe your eyes, grabbing a nearby t-shirt to cover your body half-naked body. Trudging over, you opened the door. Arisu stood in the doorway, hair disheveled and eyes needy. He quickly pulls your body to his, planting a passionate kiss on your lips.

The two of you stumble into your room, him kicking the door shut. You pull away for a moment, him pecking your lips with each word you spoke.

“I dont (kiss) understand (kiss). I thought you (kiss) liked Usagi.”

“Usagi’s a friend. A good friend. She encouraged me to not be afraid to say how I feel about you. I was worried that you only felt like you had to say those things because you were scared. I thought a girl like you could never want someone like me. But now I know you mean it because I feel it, too. I love you.”

“I wanna feel you tonight. All of you. No holding back.”

“I’m not very experienced. But if you teach me how to touch you, I will do my best to please you,” He whispers against your lips, cock hardening against your stomach. “I want this to be perfect for you.”

“I don’t want perfect,” You grip him through his shorts, biting down on his bottom lip at the same time. “I wanna fuck. I want sloppy, messy, dirty love making. The kind that will make everyone blush in the morning. I want it to where I could feel you between my legs even when your not there.”

“I want you so bad. I ache. Do you feel me throbbing in your hands?”

“How could I not? All I ever wanted was to feel you. I can’t believe I get to do that now,” You sink down to your knees before him. “But I need more. Need to suck your cock and taste you.”

He caresses the top of your head. “I might cum in your mouth.”

“That’s what I hope for.” Untying the strings of his shorts, you tug them off to reveal his boxers. The head of his growingly hard cock peaking through the hole. Too impatient to pull down his underwear, you suckle on the pink head through the hole; tasting the salty and addicting taste of his precum. Increasingly lowering your mouth around the base, you jerk and bobbed until his cock was fully through the hole.

He groans, biting his lip and watching you through the dark strands of his hair. Once in a while, he’d run his fingers through your hair keeping it out of your way as you gagged around. He was fairly thick in size, dick surprisingly tanned and pretty. Although, he wasn’t extremely huge, he was fucking perfect.

Hands free, you continued to move your mouth up and down his cock. Your hands busied themselves, pulling up at the hems of his shirt. He takes the hint, pulling the shirt over his head. He reveals his toned stomach and faint happy trail of which you happily crawled angry lines down his abs while he fucked you mouth.

His hand rests on the back of your skull, thrusting sing into the back of your throat while saliva dripping down to the cleavage of your breasts, soaking your shirt and forming a puddle on the floor.

You pull away, stroking his cock. “You taste so good, baby. Love it when you fuck my throat.”

“You need to be naked.” Arisu whimpers.

You remove your shirt, breasts exposed to the cold air and your nipples immediately get hard. Only in your lace panties, you shove your hand down to play with your swollen bud while resuming to suck on his deliciously veiny cock.

“Oh, fuckkkk,” Arisu whines head thrown back and knees nearly buckling. “I can’t…It’s too much. Too good.”

You slurp the thick saliva off his cock, jerk him a few times before spitting it right back on the base. You deepthroat his cock, fingers playing with his balls. Never again would he question your desire for him. The sight before him right now is proof enough that you wanted him bad enough to devour him.

“Mmm.” You hummed your enjoyment, sucking hard on the tip for more of his essence while folding his testicles. Your only given his high-pitched cry as a warning before his shooting his warm cum down your throat.

You greedily swallow him down, sucking and moaning until he has to physically pull you off. By the time you look up at him, he’s trembling. His hair even messier from his head trashing around.

“You were amazing,” He breathes out a chuckle. “I’ve never had a girl do that for me.”

“I’d do anything for you, Arisu.” You say, doe eyes and kiss-swollen lips glistening in the moonlight.

“Could I taste you, too? I’ve always wanted to try. I’m not sure how to begin.”

“I can teach you,” You rise up to your feet, eye contact not breaking as you played with the band of your panties. “Off or on?”

“O-off.” He says.

You lower the blue lace material down your legs, keeping them close for later use. “I’d like yours off, too.”

Arisu obeys, finally peeling off the boxers. He’s freed of his restraints and it’s as if he’d gotten even more beautiful somehow. The underwear held back from just how perfect his cock appeared, still drilling wet with your spit.

You lie on your back on the plush mattress, sitting close enough to edge. You prop your up by your elbows, gesturing him with a beckoning finger to come closer to you. When he does, you then gesture him with that finger to get on his knees. His blown pupils assured you that he was more than eager to do this.

He looks down at your glistening core before him as if staring at a 5-course meal. You were, in fact, his meal.

You tug his hair, bringing him forward. His face hovers over your puffy pussy. “You have such a pretty mouth, Arisu. So pink and full. Even when facing death, my eyes can’t tear away from them. I bet they’d feel like heaven on me.”

“Please let me taste you,” Arisu begs. “I promise I’ll do anything to make you cum.”

“How can I deny my good boy?” You cooed. “Go on and taste me.”

Tugging on his hair once again, you bring his face down. He sticks out his long, thick tongue licking a long stripe up your cunt. Flicking the tip of his tongue rapidly against your clit, he sucks it into his mouth causing you to whine out.

You pull at his hair again to pull him away for a bit, looking into his eyes. He was far gone. His eyes trained on your perfect cunt. You decide to let him take the lead releasing his hair. He kisses your inner thighs, enamored by the thickness in them. God, he’s dreamt countless nights of you squeezing his head between them. Tonight, he plans on getting that wish.

He dives back in, kissing and sucking on your lips like he would with the ones on your gorgeous face. Your eyes roll into the back of your head. He’s already doing so good.

With his lips clamped around sensitive nub, he takes a large hand and kneads your thighs before slipping his longest finger into you. You groan out loud, rolling your hips and shoving mouthfuls of your pussy at him.

“Ohhhh, Arisu. You’re so fucking incredible. Ooo, baby.” You groan, removing the hair falling over his face. as stared at you with intense lust-filled eyes. You bite your lip to keep from screaming when he adds another finger in proceeding to do the ‘come hither’ motion and triggering your impending orgasm.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cum.” You squeak. Arisu works his fingers faster into you alternating between pumping them into your tight core and playing with spongy trigger. He hears the sound of your wetness before he see it. The squelching noises sounding off and then you’re squirting around his fingers. He continues to pump until your eruption practically shoots them out if you. He eagerly licks at your arousal from his finger and the source itself. You take his fingers, sucking them into your mouth.

He can’t take it anymore. He needs to be inside you. Now. You’re turned over on your stomach, hands stretched behind you for him to pin them behind your back. Cuffing a hand over your wrists, he slips his hardened cock into your sopping pussy. The two of you moaning out your bliss.

“Feel so good inside me, my good boy. You’re so tiny compared to me. You really think you can handle all of this body.” You tease, you voice sultry and fucked out.

He bottoms out, biting his lip to keep himself from whimpering. “I can handle all of you. Your curves, your beautiful ass.” He lets a hand collide on your ass cheek causing it to ripple.

“Fuck me, Arisu. Fuck. Me.”

He picks a pace. A pace that—although felt incredibly pleasant—would make you cum soon. You wanted to stretch the moment for as long as you could.

With your cheek pressed to the mattress and your eyes rolled, you beg him to change pace. “Slower. Please. Need to feel every inch.”

He listens, hitting into you with long, deep thrusts timed like the swinging of a pendulum.

“Oh shit,” You whimper, hearing the sounds of your sticky release squelching with the churn of his cock. “Arisu, please, don’t leave me.”

“So good, hanii. I’ll never leave. Never. I’m going to make this pussy my home.” He growls.

Arisu picks up the pace a little, hitting deeper and deeper. You involuntarily began to fuck back against him, your plump bottom smacking against his pelvis.

“Oh god, I’m not gonna last long at this pace. You feel sooooo good and wet,” He punctuates with one thrust against your cervix. “I’ll have to pull out.”

“Just cum in me.” You whine, sounding desperate.

“I don’t want this to end so soon,” Arisu pulls out, letting out a shaky breath. He looks down at his length coated in your creamy arousal. “You’re making it so hard.”

You turn around to face him on all fours. “Want me on top?”

“I need a few minutes to calm down. If I’m inside you again, I’ll blow my load.”

“Do it,” You beg. “Let me be filled by you.”

“Please, hanii…I’ve waited for this moment and I won’t blow it so soon.”

“You can fuck me as many times as you want, Arisu. If I die, I don’t want to live with regret. I don’t want to die without ever having the chance to have you in as many ways possible. The next game we go into, I’ll look at the marks you leave on my body and I’ll remember exactly how I got them. I’ll remember them each fondly. You’re my motivation to live. To come back into your arms and hold you.”

A corner of Arisu’s lips twitches as if he’s attempting to keep himself from smiling, too shy to let you know how much your words made him feel like he was on top of the world.

He nods his approval. “Okay. You can get on top now.”

You push at his chest, making him lie back. Slowly crawling over him as a predator to a prey, starting from licking at the creamy release on his dick, up his chiseled stomach, then finally to his lips. You plant a soft kiss on his lips, gentle enough to leave him wanting more but present enough to run your tongue over his chapped bottom lip.

Taking your lace underwear, you shove it into his mouth and straddle him. You line him up with your entrance than sink down, sobbing out at the feeling of him stretching you. His big, round eyes watched you in awe, mouthful of your panties wet with your arousal. He savors the taste of you on his tongue.

You grind slowly on his cock, biting your lip and watching his lips part. He looks up at your face then your breasts then back at you. But your primal emotions had gotten the best of you and your back to setting a dam-breaking lace, grinding down hard on his cock to bouncing on it.

“Ahh.” Arisu muffles out a whimper at your newfound energy, squeezing his eyes shut.

You wanted slow but did he have to feel so goddamn good?

“Look at me when I’m fucking you.” You growl, grabbing him by the chin. He opens his eyes. You pull the gag from his mouth, parting his lips. Sticking your tongue out, you let a trail of spit fall onto his tongue and he immediately swallows.

After a few bounces, you notice Arisu breathing has gone ragged along with the tightening of his balls from under you which indicated he would be coming very soon. You squeeze around his neck bouncing harder and faster, not giving him any room to breathe.

“That’s it, little one,” You hiss. “Just stay there and take it.”

You loved how fragile he looked under you as if you could easily break him. You can tell he’s never been with a curvier girl. You were going to make sure you’d be his first and his last.

You pull off him causing him to groan and protest. “Why’d you stop?”

“Because I want you on top of me. I want to feel your chest against mine and kiss your neck while you drive into me.”

“I really won’t be lasting long this time. Even if you pull out for the last time, I’ll cum.”

“It’s okay, baby. I won’t pull back this time. Just fuck me slow.”

You lie on your back once more and waited for him to get into your arms. The moment he does, you grip his butt forcing him to quit beating around the bush and fuck you properly.

The gooey, squishy noises were music to your ears. You moan and sob, tears running down from how incredible he felt. You intertwine your fingers in his hair, pulling hard. The other hand clawing angry lines down his back. Your mouth occupies itself biting into his shoulder hard enough to draw blood.

He sucks a bruise on the top of your right breast. He sounded so pretty and desperate. Shaky moans and high-pitched whines whenever you’d clench around him. He pulls his length out for only the tip to stay in, playing with your entrance by shallowly pushing in before going in deep again.

You circle your fingers over your clit, gasping at the feeling of him. He was just so special. “Arisu…I gonna cum so hard. I want you to know that I love you so much. If this kills me, I’ll die happily.”

Taking one hand and pinning it above your head, he tangles his fingers in yours. His eyes still boring into your soul while the heavyness of his breath tickles your skin. He’s panting louder and louder the closer he gets to cumming as well.

“I love you, too.” He reciprocates, placing his beautiful pink lips against yours and it’s enough to awaken a rapture within you.

You cry out, the tension snapping and a splash of wetness shooting out of you and coating his pelvic area and pubic hair.

“Arisu.” You chant his name over and over, the tears continuing to flow as you felt every sensation on every part of your body that contained nerve endings.

Arisu releases his thick, hot essence into your tightening pussy and milk him passed the point of sensitivity. He’s just as loud when he cums, whimpering and begging you to take all of him.

You pull him in for another kiss, your tongue swirling around in his mouth to stifle his cries. By the time you pull away, a line of saliva tracks before you flicks a tongue out to lap it up.

He flops down on the space beside you, letting out a sigh of relief. “That was…”

“Otherworldly? Heavenly? God-tier? Because that pretty much sums it up for me.”

“R-really,” Arisu says dwindling with his thumbs.

“Uh-huh, I’ve never cried this much during sex. You’re one of a kind, Arisu.” Tears still flowing from your face.

“You’re still crying.” Arisu says with concern.

“So are you.” You say, wiping away a tear from his eyes.

“I just don’t want to lose you.” He whispers, taking your hand to kiss it.

“Me neither. I want us all to live.” You sniffle.

“Then, we’ve gotta do whatever we can to survive. I’ll do everything I can to protect you.”

You and Arisu share a passionate kiss, staring into each other’s eyes until you fell asleep for another day…and another game to come.

Japanese Translation: Hanii means “Honey”

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dabislittlemouse · 1 year

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ʚ DABI FLUFF ALPHABET ɞ

(A-Z)

Credits go to @snk-warriors for this cute idea. This one is totally fluff/sfw. Smut alphabet will come soon.

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Dabi loves going on walks with you, especially during the night. He loves to take you on empty peaceful places, like forests, beach, etc. Dabi also likes to stay home as well, watching movies as he rests his head on your thighs or your chest and eating snacks.

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/ o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

To him you’re a ray of sunshine in his life, your beautiful eyes shining whenever you see him is what he loves the most. Your eyes show a million emotions that you don’t always express in words, and that’s where he realizes how much he is loved by you.

He admires your strength, your recklessness, your braveness to take risks and not caring too much what happens or what other people think.

Dabi admires the way so many little things make you giddy; pretty flowers that you found in the park, a butterfly that you were trying to catch, silly trinkets that you got in some shop. He can’t understand why such simple things make you so excited overall, but he loves the way you smile and jump around whenever you get your hands on pretty stuff. It makes him want to spoil you a lot.

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Dabi will grab your face with both hands, get closer until your noses touch. “It’s okay baby, I’m here… shhh, you’re safe.. calm down love…take a deep breath”

He’ll hug you and make your head rest on his chest, he’ll encourage you to breathe in the same rythm as him, until you eventually calm down. He’ll place little kisses on your head and rub your back, if your hands are trembling he’ll grab them and squeeze them softly, letting you know that he’s here with you, he’ll keep you safe.

Dabi will hear you rant, will let you cry on his chest, will encourage you to let it all out, will try his best to understand you and make you feel better.

He actually gives some of the best advice ever and provides so much comfort for you. Chatting with him will make the burden on your chest feel less heavy.

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Assuming he’ll be alive until he sees that day, Dabi wants to be in a small house far, far away from the city, maybe in a forest, or some farm. Just you and him, together in your happy little home, a peaceful life that he has longed so much for.

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Dabi is mostly passive, he lets you decide where to go, what movies to watch, what activities to do for the day. He simply goes with everything you want to do, no complaints. Even the most boring thing ever seems fun to him when you’re around. He shuts his brain off and just lets you be.

If he sees you’re unsure on what to do, then he’ll be “in charge” of decisions, he’ll give ideas, opinions, until the both of you have come on one final decision.

Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Dabi will forgive you, after a fight/arguements when you come apologize for the harsh tone you used when you were angry, he will forgive you, he won’t hold grudges against someone who he loves the most. He understands that you never mean to hurt him, and that’s what matters to him.

Getting into fights with Dabi would be rare, you go along so well with him that fights aren’t very common among you two. But if for some reason you end up fighting, the both of you will scream at each other, and I either see Dabi leaving the room and not coming back until midnight, or if you are the type who usually cries while being yelled at, he’ll feel extremely guilty and apologize over and over again while hugging you.

In the end you always talk things through and apologize deeply to each other, especially Dabi. Even in cases when he isn’t actually “guilty”, he still apologizes, because he doesn’t want to fight with you anymore.

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Dabi is beyond grateful that someone like you is in his life. He never thought that life would provide him happiness, but you are a beautiful gift that he always cherishes.

He is not the type to always express it with words, but the way he clings to you and is extremely touchy, so overprotective, the way his pupils dilate whenever he is talking to you.

There are some cases where he actually feels like expressing everything with words, and he always mentions how lucky he is to have you, how beautiful you are for him, that you’re an angel on this earth, whispers to never leave him alone.

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

The only secret Dabi hides at the beginning is his true identity. Once he trusts you, that won’t be a secret anymore.

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

You for sure changed the way he views life. You are a walking proof to him that life can also be beautiful. His mood has gotten better with time and you helped him a lot through his mental struggles and depression. The League has noticed too that Dabi has been in a better mood and not always so stern or harsh towards others.

You helped him see that he is worthy, that he is strong and beautiful, that nobody else can dictate his worth, especially not that piece of trash called Endeavor. You were a major help to boost his confidence/ self esteem.

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Dabi is extremely jealous and possessive. You better not be “too close and friendly” with Tomura. He’ll start to think that you finally got bored of him, that you’ll abandon him like everyone else did. Dabi tries to push away these thoughts, he trusts you and he knows that these thoughts only come from the dark places in his mind caused by his past trauma.

You know how a cat hisses and growls when you try to get close and catch their toy or whatever thing they have on their mouth? That’s how Dabi is like whenever some stranger talks to you or tries to get close to you. He’ll put his hand around your waist, bring you closer to him while giving a death stare to those people, scaring them off. Nobody dares to talk to you, let alone mess with you. They’re scared of Dabi, he won’t hesitate to show his possessiveness.

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Dabi is a very good kisser. He doesn’t have experience in the past, but with you suddenly his lips know the right way to dance with yours, like they’re made for yours. He also is a biter too, your lower lip will always be bleeding if he gets too rough.

Dabi loves deep sloppy kisses, with spit and tongue, loves to devour your mouth, literally eating your face.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

It’s the hardest thing to do,, his hands might be trembling and he tries his best to keep calm. His heartbeats get faster and he feels an uncomfortable warmth on his chest, because spilling feelings isn’t an easy thing to do. His hand always scratches the back of his neck nervously.

“I guess I care about you too much, dipshit.. ” is something he’ll say while chuckling, making it known that he actually feels a lot for you and cares about you.

Those three words won’t be said at the beginning, don’t expect Dabi to actually understand that feeling very well so he decides to not use it first. He doesn’t want to put a label to his feelings, it makes him anxious.

Though he’ll definitely say them once some time has passed and he is more than sure that what he feels for you is love.

Marriage - Do they want to get married?How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

He thinks labels are stupid, but sometimes he loves calling you his “little wife”, and he melts when you call him “husband”. It makes him feel so giddy, blushing and everything, he wants to throw up.

I imagine him proposing when he takes you out near the beach when the sun is slowly going down. He is so nervous, he is sure that you’ll say yes but still…

He’ll get you a Sapphire ring, fit for a princess like you.

He’ll go down on his knees, look up at you, kiss both of your hands, and then… don’t expect him to get a box out his pocket. He’ll keep the ring between his fingers like he’s holding a cigarette.

“Will ya marry me love? Be my pretty wife forever?”

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

Princess, love, baby, babygirl, doll, sweetheart, sugar.

Dipshit, silly, idiot, worm, little shit (affectionate)

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others?

Dabi is extremely obvious when he is in love. He’ll look only at you, smile only at you, is very touchy towards you, everyone can tell that he loves you.

Touch is his love language, it’s way better than words, sometimes words aren’t enough to express the way he feels about you.

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Dabi doesn’t brag, but he isn’t shy either. He’ll kiss you in front of everyone, keep you on his lap, hug you or tease you. He doesn’t give a shit.

But if only someone asks him about you though, he’ll brag about you like he married some queen. In fact, that’s what you are to him.

Quirk - Some random ability they have that's beneficial in a relationship.

WARMTH!!! His quirk is the best weapon against cramps when you’re on your period, he puts his hands on your lower belly, activates his quirk and makes you feel so relaxed.

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy?Cliché or rather creative?

Deep down Dabi is a hopeless romantic. If he loves you, he’ll do anything for you, from the most simple things to the most major ones. Flowers are too often, little gifts as well, whatever makes that smile appear on your face.

I see him expressing his feelings better when he writes. Dabi writes small love poems for you, sings or hums songs to you.

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Dabi is your number one supporter. He’ll do his best to make himself useful to you, to help you achieve your goals, even when you tell him not to.

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

From time to time Dabi might try new things, but overall he prefers a certain routine.

Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Dabi is very empathetic, he understands you (especially if you’ve gone through the same stuff as him).

Dabi knows you even more than you might know yourself sometimes, he helps you understand your own thoughts and feelings when everything becomes a mess.

Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it's worth in comparison to other things in their life?

It’s the most important thing in his world. He considers it equal to his major goal in life to burn down hero society (maybe even more important than that). He knows that your relationship won’t mess with his goals, because you support him and will do everything to see him win.

Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Dabi loves taking care of you, fixing your hair, dyeing it, doing random hairstyles. On a casual day if his hands aren’t around your body, they’ll be on your hair, casually playing with them as you’re talking to other League members and not paying attention.

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Very affectionate. The best cuddler is Dabi. It’s his favorite activity to do with you, he needs some soft moments in his life.

He kisses you a lot, he will suffocate you, because he loves you too much.

Yearning - How will they cope when they're missing their partner?

Dabi will text you all the time, or facetime you. Look at your pics/ videos, smell your clothes, sleep on them. He feels empty inside, he just can’t stay away from you!

Zeal - Are they willing to go to great length for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Yes. He’ll go as far as burning people to death and destroying everything that threatened the peace in your relationship.

Tags: @ko-konutty @shadowsandshapes @mostlyheinous @holydayaria @keiskake @mossy-opal @dabispreciouslittlebean @dabislittlesluttyprincess @todorokistoya @drownedbytears @syrenkitsune @awalkingshame @malewifetouya @arinexeisnotworking @vjohnson696 @sukunas-bitxh @stuckbetweena-and-z @cherryflavoredkissess @bakugoukatsukiwifiu

#B.writes #dabi x reader #dabi fluff #dabi todoroki #dabi #touya todoroki #mha dabi #my hero academia #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #mha #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #touya todoroki x reader

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exhaslo · 25 days

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Hi! I'm mainly doing this because I crave angst, but what would happen if CorruptionAU!reader has the baby and has Postpartum depression?

And, I mean SEVERE depression. Like, she doesn't bathe, eat, sleep, and sometimes even ignore the baby's cries.

🚩Warning: Mental break down and suicide attempt🚩

And one night, as she's trying to go to sleep, the baby starts crying. Like a loud shrill cry, and reader just breaks down. Like to the point where she laughs and it turns into a cry, and she runs in the bathroom and locks it.

Then when Miguel comes back from doing whatever, all he hears is the baby crying and when he goes to find reader, she's in the bathtub and the water's bloody 'cause she tried to kill herself.

How do you see Miguel and reader handling handling that and so forth? Like, would she feel like it's her fault that she feels like she can't love her own child? Does Miguel try and blame and gaslight her? Does he help her?

How do you see all this going down.

Also, I'm going to write an angsty one-shot(maybe a two-shot) about this exact scenario but I really wanted to know your opinion.

If that were the case, then Villain!Miguel would actually feel fear for the first time in his life.

He'd start to worry about reader's health when she starts her new behaviors, and he would help her through it. After all, her health always came first. Miguel would never admit that he worries for reader when it comes to bathing or eating, because he was there for her.

Yes, he was worried prior to whenever reader would get hurt when fighting, but he knew that he would always be there to protect reader.

But coming home to that? Miguel's first thought would be where was reader. He would actually ignore his crying child in order to find out where reader went.

Immediate panic when he finds reader in the tub. He screams for Lyla, demanding that his private doctors come at once because this was something he was not going to risk doing himself. He would be holding you in his embrace, trying to stop the bleeding, begging you to stay.

Villain!Miguel would lose it if you died. Once you recovered, he would have you cradled in his lap with the baby in the room as he worked.

Whisper you compliments and praises.

Let you cry on him.

Miguel won't blame reader for what happened. He prepared for any possibility by reading several books about woman's pregnancy. He just would never expect it to happen to his perfect wife, but then again, reader is still human.

Miguel will protect reader from herself and anyone. He'd comfort her back to good health and take care of the child. Reassuring her that the next one won't be like this.

But this was a wake up call to Miguel. He felt fear finding reader in that state. Just the thought of not having reader with him anymore stirred feelings that made him angry. You can bet that Miguel took it out on the city, blaming them for everything.

He'd set the city on fire just so everyone could have taste of what reader went through.

What he went through.

At the end of the day, Miguel would have you sitting on his lap, rubbing your back as you slept. You could take as much time as you needed, just as long as you were still with him.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x you #miguel o'hara

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iliumheightnights · 1 year

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Hometown | Clark Kent x Male!Reader

Fandom: DC Pairing: Clark Kent x Male Reader Summary: Clark takes his boyfriend back to Smallville for the first time. His boyfriend finally gets to meet the Kents.

A/N: Alright, so this might not be my best work, but I still wanted to write SOMETHING while I was stuck in bed. But then again, I’m still a bit out of it so I’m hoping it is a decent story.

~~~

“Next stop, Smallville station.”

M/n looked out the window as the train sped down the tracks. Fields of corn passed by in flashes. He turned his attention away from the window towards his traveling companion next to him. Clark was reading a newspaper they had grabbed before boarding the train.

“So…is it ALL corn fields?”

Clark laughed hearing that. He sat his paper down and looked at M/n. “I can assure you, Kansas is not all corn fields…only most of it and other farm lands.” He laughed and M/n’s face. “But honestly if you go to some of the cities like Wichita or Topeka those are more urban, it's the smaller towns that are farms really. Lucky for you, Smallville isn’t all farms.” M/n raised his brows and nodded. “Uh-huh. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Was this the point that Clark told his boyfriend they’d be STAYING on a farm? He had already known that right? Clark honestly couldn’t remember if M/n knew or not and decided to just let it roll. I mean…they were staying with Ma and Pa and the Kent’s OWNED a farm.

Oh well.

Soon the train pulled into the station and came to a stop. Clark helped M/n with the luggage and carried them. “I can carry mine Clark, it's no problem.” Clark chuckled and shook his head. “I got it. Don’t worry. Besides, this is nothing.” Of course he was referencing his superstrength. To him it really was nothing. M/n also knew it was pointless trying to argue with him and let it go.

The two of them left the station and were greeted by the sight of a rather small town. “Well…this is quaint.” M/n said with a smile. Honestly he didn’t mind the small town, it was a nice change of pace from the hustle of Metropolis.

Soon there was the sound of a horn honking and they watched as a pickup truck pulled into the parking lot. “Clark! Oh Clark!” Once the truck parked a nice older couple jumped out and soon tackled Clark into a tight embrace. Obviously his parents. “Hi Ma. Hi Pa.” He returned their embrace for a while before they broke apart.

Martha then turned her attention towards M/n. Her smile never fading or breaking. “And you must be M/n! Clark has told us so much about you!” She then engulfed M/n in a hug. “It’s so nice to meet you.” She pulled back and that’s when Jonathan walked up. “Pleasure to meet you M/n. Put ‘er there.” He said lifting his hand for a handshake. M/n returned the handshake. “Pleasure to meet you too sir.”

“Alright let’s get you two back to the farm. I bet you two are hungry.” Jonathan helped take the cases from Clark and load them in the truck. Soon all of them were in the truck and on their way back to the farm. As they drove through town Clark and Martha pointed out certain places and landmarks, each with their own story.

“Oh look! M/n that’s the high school where Clark went to. Clark, do you remember that time-” Clark blushed at almost every story Martha told. Most of them embarrassed Clark but M/n absolutely loved hearing about his boyfriend’s life before. “And that’s the farmer’s market stalls, that happens every weekend. Clark used to go with us all the time back in the day. He’d go running off to eat the samples though.” Martha giggled at that. “Ma…”

“What’s that?” M/n pointed to a newer looking building that seemed to be reaching the end of construction. Jonathan seemed to grunt at that. “A new LexCorp office. They bought a couple of farm’s out here for their own. I don’t like it.” M/n looked to Clark who was frowning. He could tell Clark wasn’t liking it either. He’d talk to him about it later.

It wasn’t much longer before they were out of town and going down a gravel road. More cornfields. M/n could tell Clark was looking at him with that smug smile on his face. Soon a large and beautiful farmhouse came into view. The Kent Family Farm. M/n had seen photos of it before but they didn’t do it justice.

Soon the truck was parked and Martha was already booking it to the house. “I’m going to get lunch started for you both!” Clark laughed. “It’s alright Ma! You don’t need to!” Martha only waved him off, she wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Clark went to grab the bags with Jonathan. M/n was going to grab his as well but stopped when he heard a dog bark. “WAS THAT A DOG!?” He turned around and soon a blur of white ran across the yard and jumped into his arms. “RUFF!” The dog licked at his face and made M/n laugh. “That’s Krypto. Hey boy! How are you?” Clark rubbed the dog's head. “He missed you.” Jonathan said moving into the house. Clark and M/n followed after him with Krypto trailing behind.

The inside of the Kent’s house was just as beautiful as the outside. The entire place gave a sense of warmth and familiarity. Photos of the family lined the walls and tables. Most were of Clark throughout the stages of his life. M/n looked at each and every one of them. “I sat the bags in your old room, Clark. Figured you’d stay in there.”

“That’s fine, thanks Pa.” Clark moved to place the bags in the room and M/n followed.

Clark’s room…made M/n smile. The room OBVIOUSLY hadn’t been touched since Clark left for Metropolis. Lots of his movie posters were still up with different drawings and fliers. It really did give off the vibe of a high school senior’s room before leaving for college. “So…this was your room?” M/n said with a smile before picking up a photo with a young Clark and some friends. “It’s adorable.”

Clark’s face turned bright red from blushing. He rubbed the back of his neck as he looked sheepish. “Yeah, when I left I never really put anything away. Honestly, I kind of half expected to return rather soon. When I didn't it was a surprise. Guess Ma and Pa didn’t touch a thing. Though now it’s pretty embarrassing.”

“I don’t think so…okay maybe just a bit, but I think that happens to a lot of people.” M/n laughed and planted a kiss to Clark’s cheek. “Now how about you show me around a bit?”

“Gladly.”

Clark showed M/n around the farm. Honestly there wasn’t a lot to really look at. Fields, the barn, some animal pens, and of course the house. But both were enjoying the company of each other as they walked. “There IS some place I’d like to show you though.” Clark said.

He took M/n’s hand and walked him to the back of one of the farm buildings. At first it didn’t seem like anything was there, but then Clark moved one of the panels. “A secret door?” Clark smirked and nodded. “After you.” M/n walked into the hole. He expected to see some sort of farm storage or something but instead saw a nice little hideaway.

“This is my nook. I used to come here a lot when I just needed to get away from things.” Clark said as he sat down on a pillow. M/n looked around the place. It was small and decorated with a blanket and some pillows. A few books and posters were around. “This is cool. Did you make this place?”

“Yes and no. The building is used to store old equipment and things. But I discovered there was this back section that wasn’t being used. So I kind of made it my own.” M/n laughed and sat on another pillow. “Do your parents know about this place?”

Clark chuckled. “Oh I’m sure. You can’t hide anything from Ma. Pa? Sure, but Ma? No way.”

“Speaking of, we should probably head back. I’m sure lunch is probably done.”

“Yeah and knowing Ma she won’t stop fussing until we eat.”

Clark stood up and helped M/n up. He placed another kiss on his boyfriend’s lips before they left the nook. “I’m glad I got to share this with you.” M/n smiled. “I am too. I like getting to learn more about you.” He held Clark’s hand as they left.

They sealed up the hole before heading back to the house. Something told M/n that this trip was going to tell him a bunch about Clark he didn’t know.

#dc #clark kent #superman #x male reader #x male!reader #x reader #male reader #male!reader #imagine #male reader imagine

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seijorhi · 1 year

Text

Shelter from the Storm

Oikawa Tooru x female reader

w.c 8k

tw: yandere, blood, murder, nsfw, smut (sorta), oikawa is awful in this, technically everything is consensual but... big yikes.

A gentle breeze blows past, a lock of loose hair fluttering in its wake. Early still, the sky is painted with buttery oranges and pinks, a perfect, picturesque sunrise. Leaning on the railing of the balcony, you gaze to the city below, lost in thought.

Behind you, the sliding door opens, a warmth enveloping you, strong, sinewy arms curling around your middle.

“Morning,” Oikawa murmurs, drawing you closer. His bare chest rumbles at your back when he speaks again, “You want some breakfast? Coffee?”

How many times can you make the same mistake – fall into bed with the same person – and still claim it to be a momentary lapse in judgement? Maybe you’ll set a new record.

“Oikawa…”

Lips press against the back of your head, strangely affectionate. For all your little indiscretions, the time you’ve spent together, this sort of affection – the casual touching, the… intimacy of it all, feels out of place in broad daylight. “Mm? We could go and get one of those croissants from you like from the place across the road? Or get something delivered if you’d rather stay in?”

“Oikawa,” you sigh again, more insistent this time. You spin in his arms, turning to face him. Hair still mussed from sleep, shirtless, smiling down at you – unfairly handsome in the morning light.

“What? Not hungry?” he asks, a faint amusement lacing his tone.

Your hands find their way to his chest, your pinky grazing the raised, puckered outline of one of his scars. While curiosity might eat away at you, you’ve never quite mustered the courage to ask him about them.

You’ve heard enough of the rumours that swirl around Oikawa; they won’t be pretty stories.

“We can’t keep doing this. You have to stop.”

He laughs, surprise flitting across his face, “Me? If I remember correctly, you were more than eager to get those lovely hands of yours on me last night.”

“That’s not–” you break off with a flustered huff, cheeks warming. “That’s not what I meant, stop twisting my words! You work for my father, I can’t keep– we can’t keep doing this.”

A little of the mirth in his expression fades at that, “You don’t think I can handle keeping you safe while we’re sleeping together, ‘s that it?”

“He’s paying you to keep me safe. I’m a job, Oikawa, that’s it. That’s all.” You bite back a sigh, shifting to put some distance between you two – as much as his grip will allow. “This is a bad idea, you know it as well as I do. In a few weeks, or months–”

“So?” he asks, cutting you off. “He can’t say I’m not doing an excellent job, keeping such a careful, close eye on his beloved daughter,” the hands the rest on your waist slide down to your ass, squeezing it appreciatively as he closes the gap between you once more. The grin he wears is nothing short of devilish – not to mention incredibly self satisfied – his mouth a hairsbreadth from your own. He continues, “I’m keeping you safe, satisfied and very, very happy. If anything, I should be getting paid extra for that.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure that’s how he’ll see it.”

Oikawa leans forward, kisses the tip of your nose, and then your lips.

“I’d kill for you, how many other guys can say that, hm?” When the joke fails to garner a response, he sighs. “We’re not breaking any rules, and I’m not going anywhere. Stop overthinking it.”

—

In the days following the first threats made against your father, the idea of having a bodyguard shadowing your every step seemed laughable. Ridiculous. You weren’t some darling, young starlet with creepy, obsessive fans. Not a witness set to testify in some groundbreaking criminal case.

No, you’re simply collateral, caught up in a mess of your father’s making, one that has nothing to do with you.

That you love him in spite of it is an immutable fact. You’ve tried hard – so, so hard – to distance yourself. To separate the life you’re trying to lead and the good you’re trying to do from the shadowy reach of his legacy.

In any case, you felt perfectly comfortable brushing aside his offer of protection. You neither wanted nor needed someone monitoring your every move under the guise of keeping you safe.

And then the focus of the threats turned to you. To your step-mother. To Ryo, your little brother – a kid.

Your father, a man unaccustomed to hearing the word ‘no’, introduced Oikawa the very next morning and would not budge on the issue. ‘You do not have to like him,’ he’d said. ‘But he’ll keep you out of harm’s way, and you will listen to him.’

It was – is – an adjustment.

Those closest to you, your friends, your work colleagues – the ones you interact with on a daily basis at any rate – have all been made aware of the truth behind his presence. For everyone else–

“Don’t mind him, Oikawa’s my new assistant,” you explain to the hotel’s manager, smiling sweetly at her bemused expression.

Oikawa matches it with one of his own, saccharine and glittering.

A cup of tea is set out before each of you by one of the hotel’s employees, and he thanks her quietly, swirling the cup round in its saucer to better reach the bone china handle. Lifting it to his lips, he takes a smooth, slow sip.

“I’m really just here for the free tea and cake.”

One look at the blushing manager, and you can tell she’s thoroughly charmed – which is the only reason you abstain from kicking him under the table.

“Ignore him, please. I had a thought about letting some of the kids come up and talk on stage as part of the opening speeches, but I wanted to make sure that wouldn’t push us too far behind with the entertainment.” There’s a slight nudge at your thigh, “And um, we also wanted to run through the security measures, if possible.”

Her brow wrinkles, “Security, I– well, we’ll have doormen to check the guest list, and I suppose we could have some of our security staff posted near the ballroom exits if you’d like?”

You nod, “Yes, that’ll be–”

“You should have a few dressed to blend in with the crowd, mingling throughout the room, regular security at the stairs, and we’d like some guards working the backstage area as well,” Oikawa interjects. “Considering the guest list, not to mention the A-list performers we’ve hired for the night, the least they can ask of us is to ensure we’re making their safety and security a priority, no?”

“All these extra measures are a little last minute, don’t you think? The gala’s tomorrow night!”

On the brink of exasperation, she looks to you, no doubt expecting you to rein in your employee.

You simply smile, folding your legs over one another, taking a moment to indulge in the tea you’d been so graciously provided. “We chose this hotel as our venue for a reason, I’ve heard nothing but excellent things about you and your staff. A few added security measures shouldn’t be too difficult for your staff to accommodate. As my assistant said,” your eyes slide to Oikawa’s, a faint hint of a warning there, “we simply want to ensure everyone has a safe, enjoyable evening so that the foundation can raise as much as we possibly can.”

“… Of course,” she concedes.

“Perfect! So, let’s get back to the opening speeches.”

And so it goes, the two of you discussing the final touches and small details for the event you’ve spent months bringing to fruition, the foundation’s first charity gala.

Untouched by your father’s hand, you built this foundation from the ground up, it’s yours – your baby. Your pride and joy.

You think nothing of it when Oikawa excuses himself to take a call. He doesn’t leave the room – he won’t risk straying that far – and you’re distantly aware of the quiet tones of his voice speaking into his phone. You pay it no mind, focused on closing out your meeting with all the i’s dotted and the t’s crossed.

By the time the meeting’s finished, you’re thrilled.

Naturally, there’s still plenty you have left to do; one last check in with the caterers, you have to go and pick up your dress, and there’s the debrief with your team. You’ll have to come back to the hotel early tomorrow to make sure that the set up runs smoothly and nothing’s slipped through the cracks.

Regardless, promising that you’ll touch base first thing in the morning and thanking her again, you can’t quite tamp down your excitement, or the giddy little grin you wear, exiting the hotel with Oikawa.

At least, until he stops you just shy of the town car waiting out front, his hand on your arm, murmuring your name.

“What, what is it?”

He appears almost hesitant. Regretful, certainly. “There was another threat delivered to the main house today…”

Your stomach sinks.

You can see it written across his face, know what’s coming before he even opens his mouth, “Don’t, don’t you dare–”

“There’s too many variables, I am not putting you on the stage in a dark, crowded room–”

You throw your hands up in a huff. “Fine! I won’t speak then.”

“You’re not going at all. Shizuku can do your speech, the team has everything else handled. I am not risking your safety, point blank.”

“That’s not your decision!”

Oikawa’s eyes narrow, “It is. You can be pissed at me all you want–”

“We’ve been working on this for months! Oikawa, this is the most important night of our entire year – we need this funding. The kids need this funding! You can go as my date, you’ll have every excuse to spend the entire night glued to my hip. We just got them to agree to all that extra security stuff you wanted, what more do you need? Don’t ask me to sit at home because of some baseless, stupid threat, please!”

You hate that your voice sounds so desperate, so pleading – but it’s frustration, not disappointment that’s to blame for the thick lump that chokes you up. The hot tears that sting in the corner of your eyes.

“I’m not asking.”

The callousness hits you like a slap in the face.

All that anger, that mounting, seething frustration, it cools in an instant, settling like a rock in your stomach. Without another word you turn and climb into the backseat, slamming the car door behind you.

If that’s how it is, fine.

Oikawa joins you a moment later, rattling off instructions to the driver.

The two of you have argued before, more times than you care to count. As charming as he thinks he is, Oikawa’s equally capable of being obnoxious, annoying, rude, arrogant, the list goes on. This is the first time it’s truly mattered, though. Maybe that’s why the cold dismissal – his refusal to give so much as an inch – stings more than it should.

“Don’t make me the bad guy here,” he murmurs when the silence between you grows too heavy to bear. “I won’t apologise for putting your safety first.”

He reaches for your hand then; a peace offering, an olive branch. You yank it back before his pinky can so much as brush against yours, lacing them together over your lap.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. That’s what you’re being paid for, right?”

—

Days later and the elephant in the room remains firmly lodged between you two.

It’s hard to justify anger towards someone who claims they’re only making your life difficult because there are people out there actively trying to hurt you and your family. At the same time, Oikawa’s insistence on smothering you under new ‘security measures’ isn’t doing him any favours.

Driving home from work, the twinkling lights of the city speeding past in a blur, the purring hum of the engine a comfort in the otherwise silent car, you can only wonder how much longer this’ll go on for.

How much more of it you can take.

“I have a date tomorrow night,” you admit in a quiet voice. “A friend of a friend, she’s been trying to set us up together for months now.”

You glance at Oikawa then – hesitant, searching his face. Momentary surprise flickers there, and then he simply raises an eyebrow, “Oh? And you’re telling me this because you want me to give the two of you a little privacy, right? I guess it would be slightly awkward to have the last guy you were fucking watching from the next table over.”

Though his tone is perfectly pleasant, there’s no disguising the razor sharp bite of the words themselves. Guilt stabs at your insides, twisting like a knife. “That’s not what I–”

You’re so tired of arguing with him. Tired of all of this. Your hands can’t lie still, smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles in your skirt, and though your attention falls to your lap, you can’t escape the weight of Oikawa’s watchful eyes, following your every move.

Waiting on the verge of impatience for you to dig yourself deeper.

You sigh, wetting your lips. “I’m not interested in him. This isn’t about that. I just… I can’t do this with you, Oikawa. I can’t handle every detail of my day – what I do and who I see – being monitored and micromanaged. I can’t handle you acting like a glorified babysitter and then still trying to get into my pants the moment we’re alone. I just– I need one night without that, that’s all.”

Maybe that’s a selfish thing, a stupid decision. You’d made it at the drop of a hat, your friend gushing over this guy over the phone for the umpteenth time. He doesn’t seem like the type to have a favourite gun, and that was good enough for you.

Oikawa snorts out a laugh, “If you’ve got an itch you need scratched, I’m more than happy to offer my services, pretty girl,” he drawls, low and lecherous, grinning so condescendingly you’re honestly tempted to slap him. “But there’s no way in hell I’m letting you run off to play date night with some asshole you know next to nothing about when there’s a target on your back and I’m the one keeping you safe, understand?”

You’d anticipated some kind of resistance – Oikawa arguing over where you’d go, wanting the names of the guy in question, the friend who set the two of you up, all of it.

The possibility he’d outright refuse hadn’t even crossed your mind.

You open your mouth to argue the point, only to close it softly a heartbeat later. Why bother? What good would arguing do when you’re perfectly aware that he has no intention of budging on the subject.

Which isn’t to say that you’re letting him off the hook entirely.

“Careful, you’re sounding awfully jealous there, Tooru.”

His eyes widen a fraction, but it’s delight, not aggravation, that gleams in those deep, brown depths. “Do you want me to deny it?” he challenges, the car pulling to a stop out the front of your apartment block. “You wanna know what I think?”

Not particularly, but that’s never stopped him before.

“You want me just as much as I want you, you know we’re good together. You accuse me of being jealous, yet you’re the one running scared, jumping at the first, half-baked opportunity presented so you can lie and tell yourself that you’re not missing me.”

“Please,” you scoff, unable to help yourself. “You’d have to be gone for me to miss you.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Rolling your eyes and biting back a huff, you nevertheless accept the hand he offers to help you out of the car, the two of you making your way inside. He greets the porter by the door, inclining his chin in a short nod, and calls the elevator with a swipe of your keycard – the one he’d snatched right out of your hand the very day he’d met you.

All in the name of doing his job and keeping you safe, of course.

‘Well what if I need to use the stupid lift and you’re not around?’

‘Unless you’re planning on ditching me, I don’t see that being a problem, do you?’

Impossible, right from the start.

While Oikawa leans against the mirrored walls, smug and all too self satisfied, you snatch your phone from your purse, angrily typing up a quick message to your friend about tomorrow night. No doubt she’ll think you’re being overdramatic, if not outright lying – she, however, doesn’t have to contend with Oikawa on a daily basis.

By the time you reach your apartment, you’re tired, grumpy and itching for a glass of wine and a nice long soak in the bathtub.

You’re only half paying attention, impatient to kick off your heels and soothe the day's stresses – you don’t notice that the door’s hanging ajar, at least not immediately. Oikawa does, his whole body tensing, eyes alert and cautious.

The second you try to move, his arm’s there, outstretched to keep you at bay while he hastily tries to shut the door and obscure your view.

Not quickly enough.

Through the crack, you see it; the crimson splashed across your living room, stark and hideous against the white tile floors.

Blood.

It’s everywhere. Dripping from the lampshade, down the walls, pooling on the tiles.

Red, red, red, spattered and sprayed like the set of a b-grade slasher flick. And the smell, coppery and pungent, sitting in the back of your throat as bile creeps up to meet it.

No one person can bleed that much, can they?

Your breath comes quick; short, heaving little gasps far too shallow to do you any good. Your limbs feel weightless, weak – a stumbling step backwards almost sends you to the ground. Nausea churns in your guts, threatening to upheave.

All that blood… Your apartment–

They– they were in your home.

And a sudden thought occurs to you, a fresh wave of horror sinking its claws in deep. Without stopping to think, you lurch forward, desperate to get inside. Arms seize your waist, yanking you back, and you let out a blood curdling shriek, thrashing against the grip.

In the haze of your blind panic, you recognise that it’s Oikawa’s voice, speaking in your ear in a low, urgent tone. You don’t care, you can’t make sense of the words anyway, not amidst the overwhelming fear, the terror and the pounding of your racing heart.

“Ryo–” you choke out, struggling to get free, “I have to– h-he might be–”

“He’s not in there. He’s not in there!” Wrangled back from the door, he all but shoves you against the wall, caging you in close as your fists beat weakly against his chest, your pleas little more than whimpers. He exhales heavily, moving in closer to press his forehead against yours. “He’s at home, with your father. They’re not in there, I promise. We have to go.”

He takes your hand, leads you one step after another, murmuring reassurances the whole way.

You’re numb to it.

You don’t remember much, the ding of the elevator, stale air of the underground parking garage and a chill nipping at your skin. An unfamiliar car you’re hastily bundled into.

Time moves strangely after that, seconds trickling by like the drip of a leaking faucet.

The car is quiet. Dark. The cityscape out the window a blur that barely registers. Your mind ticks over the same thoughts, a reel stuck playing the same loop over and over; blood splashed across the curtains, the couch. Your apartment – your home – awash with it. The stench of it, clinging to you like perfume.

No one was hurt.

They were in your home.

You’re fine, Oikawa’s fine. Ryo was never in danger.

They were in your home.

You let out a shuddering breath, shoulders curling inwards as you draw your knees up to your chest. Oikawa clocks the movement, sparing you an assessing glance from the corner of his eye.

“… Where–” you wince at the raw sound. “Where are we going?”

“Back to the main house. Your father’s been alerted, he’s expecting us.”

Ah. Where else?

Your father has ‘round the clock guards at every entrance, high tech, expensive security systems. You’d be with your family, safe and protected within the walls of the home you grew up in. The minute he’d heard what’d happened, your father would’ve demanded Oikawa bring you back without delay.

Despite that, you find yourself shaking your head, “I… I don’t want Ryo– he’ll get upset if he sees me like this,” you mumble into your knees. “He’s already scared. Please.”

He looks at you again, properly this time. There’s a muscle working in his jaw, long fingers drumming against the leather of the steering wheel.

You’ve seen him angry before, irritated. Never like this.

Every breath he draws in is tight and controlled, his features set like granite. You only catch sight of it when the yellow glow of the street lights outside wash over you both in thick swathes; the cold fury that lurks in the black pits of his irises, held back like a caged beast.

It should scare you – it does, a bit. The man sitting next to you feels like a stranger, and yet you force yourself to hold that stare, not to shy away.

Oikawa won’t hurt you.

Whatever seethes beneath the surface, it’s not directed your way – you can’t say how you know that for certain, only that you do.

But neither one of you can return home to your family tonight, not when you’re both so wound up and strung out. You’ll beg on your hands and knees if that’s what it takes to sway him. Ryo’s already afraid enough as it is.

Your heart thumps painfully against your ribs as you wait in tense silence.

Oikawa considers you for a moment longer, mutters a curse under his breath and casts a look back over his shoulder, throwing the car into a sudden – and very illegal – u turn. “You’re gonna be the death of me, I hope you realise that,” he groans, but the words lack the hard, clipped edge they’d carried before.

He takes you instead to an apartment downtown; nondescript, small, tidy. The furniture appears new, fitting in with the same clean, monochromatic colour scheme as the rest of the apartment. There’s books on the coffee table, bland art lining the walls, cushions on the couch, a knitted beige comforter tossed over the armrest. It’s… fine, if not a little soulless.

Turning to face Oikawa, you lift an eyebrow, “You… live here?” you ask.

The brunet’s lips quirk upwards, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it over the back of one of the chairs. “Not often. It’s a foxhole, one of a few I have, actually. This one just so happened to be the closest.” At your confused expression, he continues, “Think of it like a hideaway. There’s no paper trail tying me to this place and very few people who know of its existence. We can lie low here for a few days while we figure everything out.”

Somewhere that can’t be tracked, because there are men out there who want you dead. Faintly, you nod, trying your best to ignore the pool of dread sitting heavy in your gut.

There’s no pretending the threats aren’t real anymore.

But you’re safe here, with Oikawa. No one’s coming to hurt you tonight.

Exhausted, your whole body aching, you shower under a scorching spray, drying yourself off and pulling on one of Oikawa’s old shirts to sleep in (‘We’ll get you some proper clothes tomorrow,’ he’d promised). There’s only one bed in the tiny apartment, and even if you could find it within yourself to care, you’re altogether too drained to say anything when, after a quick shower of his own, Oikawa crawls in beside you.

He’s warm and solid, the scent of him familiar as his arm slides over your middle, drawing you close.

“I’m not going to let anyone touch you,” he murmurs into the dark. “I’ll kill them first. You’re safe with me.”

—

Two days later, your father summons you home.

Oikawa’s curtly dismissed at the door, left to his own devices. You, meanwhile, are taken into the study, tea is poured, and the conversation, naturally, shifts towards the break in at your apartment.

“You can always stay here with us, little one, for as long as you’d like. Ryota would be thrilled to have you back.” Your father smiles, setting the steaming cup down. “As would I.”

The childhood endearment makes your heart tug. You’ve spent too long clawing your way free of his influence to do some good in the world, to return home now, no matter how tempting the thought, would undo that in seconds.

“I know,” you reply. “And I appreciate it, dad. Oikawa’s taking me tomorrow to see a few apartments, though, so hopefully we’ll find something that works.”

He makes a dissatisfied noise, mouth tightening. “Yes, well considering this happened under Oikawa’s watch, perhaps you should rethink the weight you place in his judgement.”

“It’s because of Oikawa that they broke into my apartment. He never gave them an opening to come after me directly, so they tried to scare me instead.” Tried, and succeeded, mind you. “You’re the one who hired him,” you grumble.

“I hired him to protect you, nothing more,” he replies sternly. “If you’re put at risk again I will not hesitate to replace him with someone better suited.”

Peering down at you from behind wire frame glasses, he considers you for a moment – the same weighty, assessing stare he’d give you when, as a kid, he thought you were misbehaving. “I am not so blind that I cannot see what is happening in front of my own eyes. You’re close with him, you… trust him.”

“Am I not supposed to?” Wasn’t he the one telling you you had to listen to Oikawa?

He doesn’t answer you straight away, seemingly weighing up his response. When he does eventually speak, the words give little comfort. “Oikawa is… a necessary evil. He has the temperament and skill set which make him a natural choice in protecting you – they’re also what make him dangerous. If your life weren’t at risk I would not want you within a thousand yards of that man.”

You think back to the scars that litter Oikawa’s torso. The look in his eyes that night, the tempest raging, violent and volatile.

It’s not as though you ever believed Oikawa to be a saint – if his association with your father wasn’t proof enough, the frankly alarming number of weapons you’d stumbled across, stashed throughout the foxhole certainly did the trick.

You grew up surrounded by men like that. Your father, your uncles. Business associates invited to dinner. None of them ever frightened you.

Unease slithers down your spine.

Satisfied, perhaps, that his warning struck home, your father straightens in his chair and clears his throat. “Enough of that. Come, drink – your tea’s getting cold.”

He keeps you there for a little while longer, to indulge in another cup and talk of other, lighter subjects; your work with the children’s foundation, Ryo’s progress at school (he’s becoming quite the little scientist), to the gardens that surround the estate, the cherry blossom trees set to bloom in a matter of weeks.

On your way out, he asks for you to send in Oikawa.

It takes you less than a minute to find him – sitting cross legged on the living room floor, deep in conversation with your seven year old brother. Ryo’s the one to spot you first, his whole face lighting up. Discarding the open book he’d had splayed across his lap, your brother jumps to his feet and barrels towards you with a delighted shriek of your name, arms outstretched. You catch him with a grin, squeezing back when he hugs you firmly.

“Careful, bud” Oikawa laughs, “you’ll knock her right off her feet.”

You ruffle Ryo’s hair. His mom would say the unruly locks are desperately in need of a trim – you think it suits him, reminds you of a wild thing. “Please, this little guy? Light as a feather.”

The indignant grumble you get in response, his face still buried in your middle only makes your grin widen.

Still sprawled across the floor like a kid himself, Oikawa meets your gaze with a warm one of his own, something in your chest fluttering at the sight of it. He looks content, perfectly relaxed here with you and Ryo.

In that moment, you’re struck with the realisation that he’s not the only one.

Whatever gripped you back in your father’s study, there’s no trace of it now, it holds no bearing here with the two of them. This is the Oikawa you’ve come to know, the one you trust.

The one you like, if the warming of your cheeks is any indication to go by.

… Maybe it’s time you stopped running from that.

Saved from any further musing by your brother’s attempt to crush the life out of you in one final squeeze, Ryo reluctantly lets you go.

“I missed you,” he mumbles, his cheeks turning pink. He kicks at the carpet a little, chews at his bottom lip, hesitating just a touch. “… Dad said you’re coming home to stay this time. Are you?” And beneath the wide, puppy dog eyes that tug at your heartstrings with practiced ease (no wonder he has both his parents wrapped around his finger), there’s no hiding the hope glimmering in his tone.

“I missed you too, squirt.”

At the mention of your father, however, something else springs to mind, and you turn your attention back to Oikawa. “Oh, almost forgot – he said he wants to see you. He’s in the study, waiting.”

The brunet nods, rising. If he’s bothered by the demand at all, there’s no outward indication. From your own conversation with the man, you can’t imagine he’s about to walk into anything particularly pleasant. Then again, you doubt that whatever your father has in store for him – whether it be lecture or complete verbal evisceration – is in any way anxiety inducing to someone like Oikawa.

Sauntering past the two of you, he stops for a second, lays a hand on Ryo’s shoulder and leans down to whisper conspiratorially into his ear – just loud enough for his voice to carry. “Why don’t you show your big sister the new project you were telling me about, hm?”

Ryo lights up again with a giddy gasp, racing from the room, and Oikawa winks at you, breezing on through.

—

The moment you’re through the door back at the foxhole, he’s on you.

Ravenous, hungry, lips moving feverishly against yours, prying them apart for another taste of you. The clothes he’d bought for you are hastily discarded, thrown to the floor and kicked aside as Oikawa lifts you up, hiking your legs around his waist so he can carry you into the bedroom.

“What’s gotten into you?” you laugh, half breathless when he deposits you on the bed.

“Do I need a reason?” he retorts, yanking off his shirt and casting it aside. “I’ve been waiting to do this all afternoon.”

He climbs onto the bed then,pushing your shoulders back down the mattress as his lips find yours to kiss you senseless. Your hand meanwhile slips down between your bodies, a feather light touch grazing the bulge in his jeans.

He moans into your mouth, breath shivery and light, hips bucking ever so slightly to chase the touch. When he draws back, your stomach flips in anticipation at the positively wolfish expression you find there, “Careful, pretty girl,” he warns.

“Or what?”

He takes your hand then, pulls it back to his crotch and grinds into it slowly, shuddering, “Or you’re gonna be in for a long, long night.”

You arch up to kiss him, lips finding his throat, the two of you working together to hastily free his cock from the confines of his boxer briefs.

The moment you’re successful, the hard, flushed length bobbing against his stomach, Oikawa lets a fat glob of spit fall into his palm and takes hold of it, twisting his wrist as he slides his hand back and forth along his cock, groaning and nudging your thighs apart.

Usually, he likes to take his time prepping you, lowering his mouth to your pretty little pussy, teasing you and edging you until you’re a squirming, hot mess beneath him, all but begging him to hurry up and fuck you. Other times – when he’s in a more selfish mood – he’ll send you to your knees instead, taking his pleasure by fucking your face, fingers curling in your hair, the tight, wet warmth of your mouth too tempting to pass up.

But something feels different this time. More than hunger, or desire, beyond simple urgency. It glints and gleans in his eyes, seeps from his skin like the bead of sweat that trickles down the curve of his neck.

It crackles like electricity in the air between you.

And when he drags your hips down close, and pushes his cock deep into your warm, fluttering cunt, it robs you of all words.

True to his promise, Oikawa takes his time. Fucks you on your back, legs locked around his back at first – and then pressed back either side of you, the ache in your thighs second only to the stretch of your pussy, clenching around him with every languid roll of his hips.

He flips you over and draws your ass upwards, your face pressed down into the pillows, pounding into you from behind.

Hands on your hips, guiding you up and down his throbbing shaft, hungry eyes fixed on the way your tits bounce so enticingly for him.

And then, when your legs are shaking, pussy leaking his seed and every cell in your body is electrified and buzzing, he lays you down at the edge of the bed and feasts on your poor, sensitive, abused little hole ‘til you’re grabbing at his hair, bucking up and writhing on his tongue, screaming yourself hoarse from an overload of pleasure.

Only then does he allow you rest, kissing you sweetly as he slips from your side and exits the bedroom.

He returns moments later with a glass of water, which you gratefully accept and guzzle down. Collapsing back on the bed, you let out a groan, “I feel like I could sleep for the next thousand years.”

He chuckles. Climbing onto the mattress to flop down beside you, Oikawa rolls close, smiling with a soft look you’ve only ever seen directed at you. “So sleep. We’ve got an hour or so ‘til dinner, a nap won’t kill you.”

—

You wake to the sound of a car backfiring.

Eyes bleary, disoriented, you struggle to gather your wits as the door to the bedroom flies open. Oikawa appears in the doorway, still wearing his pajamas, gun in hand, eyes focused and alert – and it’s then, in the dim, early morning light that you realise that the sound you heard wasn’t a car at all.

With his handgun and attention trained on the front door, Oikawa spares you only the briefest of glances, “Get up, we need to go. Now.”

Your heart skips a beat, chest tightening as the reality of the situation – at least, as much as your sluggish brain can piece together – dawns upon you.

Questions, one after another, claw their way up your throat, desperate and urgent, terrified, you force yourself to swallow them down, along with the near paralysing fear that takes hold. There’s no time for that. No time to panic. Pausing only long enough to ascertain that you are in fact somewhat clothed – an old tee of his and a pair of sleep shorts you must’ve thrown on at some point last night – you scramble to Oikawa’s side.

Any reassurance you feel at the grip he takes of your hand is quickly and overwhelmingly buried, however, when you catch sight of the dark mass by the entryway.

Your stomach lurches, blood running cold. It’s a body – a man’s. The room’s not yet light enough to get a good look at his face, but the open, unblinking eyes and the sticky looking pool beneath him tell you plenty.

Dead.

“Don’t look,” Oikawa murmurs.

His fingers tighten around your hand in a reassuring squeeze, already pulling you onwards. Like a bad accident, tearing your eyes away is easier said than done.

That man, he… he’d come here for you, hadn’t he? To kill you.

You’ve never seen a dead body before, and now there’s one lying across your living room floor, riddled with bullets from Oikawa’s gun and that–

That could’ve been you. Would’ve been, if not for Oikawa.

Your chest constricts, a noose tightening at your throat. And just like that night at your apartment, the fear that takes root begins to strangle you, making it hard to breathe, harder to think.

Every uneven thump of your heart rattles your chest, your limbs feeling like they’re disconnected from the rest of you. Oikawa notices, and curses softly beneath his breath. There’s no time to coax you down, his grip turns iron, half running now down the fire door stairs with you stumbling behind him.

Somewhere above you, shouts begin to sound, and with a fresh wave of terror hammering through your veins, you force your legs to move quicker. There’s no choice but to run, to duck and cower when the creaking door to the floor above swings open and Oikawa abruptly yanks you forward to fire up the stairwell behind you.

Bare feet pounding against the floor, chest heaving with ragged breaths, you burst out into the parking garage, and still you don’t stop.

For the second time in less than a week, you’re corralled into a car, shaking and numb, on the verge of outright sobbing.

Oikawa drives for a long time.

You don’t ask where you’re going, if they’re still following you. You don’t speak.

The traffic on the streets thins out, the towering skyscrapers disappearing in the rearview mirror. Wherever he’s taking you, it’s not towards home.

And there’s a pit in your stomach, a bleak, festering emotion that grows harder and harder to ignore with every passing mile. Oikawa’s silence – tense and uncomfortable, only adds to your unease.

This isn’t like last time, when he was angry beyond words. This feels… different, somehow.

When you’re well beyond the city limits, he pulls the car to a stop on the side of a deserted stretch of road and turns it off, leaving the keys in the ignition.

“There’s a phone in the glove box, can you get it for me?”

Doing as he asks, you pop the compartment open, only to cringe when the first thing your fingers brush over isn’t a cell, but the cool metal of a handgun. Nevertheless, you keep going, eventually finding the black phone tucked away near the back and wordlessly passing it into Oikawa’s waiting palm.

He smiles at you, leans over the console to press a chaste kiss to your cheek, “Thanks. Stay here, alright? Gotta make a quick call.”

He’s already dialling, smoothly exiting the car before the words truly register.

You’re helpless to do anything but watch anxiously from the passenger’s seat, fingers worrying away at the hem of Oikawa’s shirt. Seconds tick by – nothing. No one picks up. No one answers.

A small frown graces his features. Glancing into the car to check up on you, Oikawa simply ends the call, dials another number, holds the phone to his ear, and waits for whoever’s on the other end of the call to pick up.

… But nobody does. The phone rings out.

He spares you another brief glance then, your wide, worried eyes meeting his. His brow furrows, the edges of his lips thinning into a hard line and before you can call out to ask him what’s wrong, who he’s trying to get ahold of, he’s moving away from the car and out of earshot.

This time, he seems to take longer to find the number he’s after, drawing the phone back to his ear, foot tapping away as it rings and rings and rings.

You don’t realise that you’re holding your breath, fingernails biting into the palm of your hand until you see him speaking into his cell, nodding at whatever the person on the other end of the line is saying.

Yet that reprieve, unlocking the breath trapped in your lungs, soothing over all of your tension and that awful, gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach lasts only as long as it takes for you to realise that Oikawa, staring at you from yards down the road, looks entirely too grim for the relief that you’re feeling.

He ends the call with a heavy exhale, shoulders slumping.

Your heart stops cold in your chest.

One look at his pained expression, the pity swirling in his eyes, the sympathy, and your whole world comes crashing down around you.

Fingers fumbling for the door latch, you unbuckle your seatbelt to stagger to your feet, lurching towards him. Oikawa reaches you first, letting you collide into his arms, pulling you close.

“He– he’s fine, right?” you beg in a thick, trembling voice, trying in vain to blink back hot tears. “Ryo’s fine. They both are. They’re okay. Tell me they’re okay. Please, Tooru, you have to– you have to tell me that they’re–”

As words fail you, Oikawa sighs. With a gentleness that shatters something inside of you, he cups your cheek in his palm, brushing away your tears, and presses his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry. They… they hit the house before they came for us. No one made it out.”

No… no, no, no, no, no. That’s not true. You clutch at him, desperately shaking your head. Ryo can’t be dead, he’s only seven. He’s just a kid, an innocent, good kid. He’s your little brother.

He can’t be dead.

But Oikawa’s looking at you so brokenly, and you feel like somebody’s ripped you open from the inside out and saved your heart for last of all. You open your mouth to beg for him to tell you he’s lying, but all that comes out is a sobbing wail.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, holding you close, cradling you against him. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

—

The soft sound of leather shoes walking atop marble tiles echo throughout the empty halls of your father’s estate.

There’s no need for Oikawa to disguise his presence now – not that there was much of one to begin with.

The staff had opened the door without blinking, welcoming him inside, the guards on rotation nodding in acknowledgment when he strode past. They might not particularly enjoy his presence (no accounting for taste, he supposed) but after months working for the patriarch to keep you safe, they’d come to begrudgingly accept it.

In their eyes, he was one of them, and so no one thought to stop him and ask why he’d shown up at the estate so late in the night, seemingly without reason. Without you.

It made picking them off one by one that much easier.

Well, not all of them. He had left one alive – unconscious, possibly paralysed, but breathing all the same. Oikawa smirks.

With the guards and household staff dispatched, he’d turned his attention towards the bedrooms.

Ryota was first. Fast asleep, clutching the teddy-bear you’d bought him, your baby brother hadn’t stirred when Oikawa crept in with the shadows. He made it quick. Painless. As much of a mercy as a man like him was capable of.

The kid’s mom was next; the second wife, the replacement. The money hungry, greedy, vapid little cunt.

It was no secret that your father had been married before, that his first wife – your mother – had died after a long, tragic battle with cancer when you were sixteen. The first time he’d tried bringing it up, you’d shut him down and quickly changed the subject, but in the end, all it took was one too many glasses of wine, a few stories of his own, and those pretty lips of yours were spilling all sorts of interesting secrets.

That your step-mother was fucking him before she was even cold in the ground was one such fascinating tidbit.

While he’d felt a slight twinge of guilt over killing the boy, Oikawa had no such qualms shooting her while she slept, the silencer on his pistol ensuring it raised no alarm, just like the others.

While you’d mourn for your beloved baby brother, he knows you won’t shed any tears for that bitch. He wonders if you’d even thank him for it, if he ever decided to tell you the truth.

A pleasant shiver rolls down his spine at the thought of how sweetly you’d go about it.

Presently, he raises a fist to knock at the door of your father’s study, one final goal in mind.

“Come in,” a deep voice replies.

Oikawa has to give the older man some credit, one look at him – gun in hand, the flecks of blood spattered against his crisp, white shirt – and your father stills, the colour draining from his face. He doesn’t panic, though, doesn’t shout or cry out for help, much less for mercy.

They both know none is coming.

Instead, he sets down the papers he’d been working on and rises slowly from his chair. No doubt he has at least one gun stashed nearby, but with Oikawa’s pointed towards his chest, the brunet’s index finger poised on the trigger, and his better years behind him, the odds don’t fall in his favour.

“My wife?”

Oikawa grins, clicking his tongue, “Dead.”

He nods, taking a moment to process the information. “And… my son?”

“Dead.”

“… I see.”

Oikawa’s heard more than one person accuse your father of being a cold, heartless bastard. It’s an easy assumption to make – no one gains a reputation like his without a certain brutality and overall disregard for the lives of others. The truth is simpler; your father does have a heart, it resides in both of his children. While his voice might not shake at the news of his son’s demise, his hands, splayed out over the papers on his desk, most certainly do.

He swallows with difficulty, takes in a trembling breath, “My daughter, I assume you killed her, too?”

“God, no,” he laughs. “She’s sleeping, safe and sound, blissfully oblivious to all of this.”

And for the first time since Oikawa crossed the threshold, a look of confusion adorns your father’s face. Before he can give voice to it, however, the brunet decides to nudge the conversation along. The drugs in your system will only keep you down for so long, and there’s still plenty he has left to do before the two of you can have your fresh start.

“You seem to be under the impression that I’m working for the people who want you and your family wiped from the map. I’m not. I’m simply making the best of an opportunity." He sighs, shrugging, “We could have avoided this nastiness, you know. Maybe not indefinitely, but for a little while at least. All of this, it’s your fault; you gave me a gift, and then,” his smile turns sharp, an edge of anger bleeding through, “you threatened to take her away.”

There are worse fates than death.

“If it gives you any solace,” Oikawa murmurs, the soft, placating tone at odds with the cruel twist of his vicious grin. “I intend to keep my promise. She’ll be safe with me, no one will ever lay so much as a finger on her.”

No one, that is, except for him.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #yandere oikawa #idk if i hate this or not but hey at least it's done #:))))

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the-kr8tor · 4 months

Note

PLEASE, PLEASE FAE HOBIE X READER PLEASE I NEED IT AGAIN YOUR SERIES KILLED ME EVEN IF I LOVED IT AND I NEED MORE FAE HOBIE X READER. I NEED POSSESSIVE FAE HOBIE X READER PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE (IVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOUR REQUEST TO BE OPEN PLEASE I BEG OF YOU MORE FAE HOBIE HES PLAGUED MY THOUGHS BC OF YOU.)

IT CAN BE ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING WITH FAE HOBIE (BESIDES ANGST I HAD ENOUGH OF THAT WITH YOUR SERIES/HJ /PF)

I UTTERLY NEED TO KISS AND JUST NEED FAE HOBIE. YOU GOT ME OBSESSED WITH FAE HOBIE GUENGUENAHJFSBIAHDNSHSNFUD 🩷🩷🩷

Hi, bestie! I blacked out while writing this (a side effect of writing for fae Hobie 🤣🤣 he does things to me) I tried my best at making this as fluffy as possible but if you want it fluffier pls feel free to send another prompt! (Fae Hobie still has my heart) thank you for requesting!! 🫶

Pairing: Fae! Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw food mentions, Fae AU, Fae! Hobie Brown, a bit of hurt/comfort, fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You definitely remember planting your tulips just yesterday. At first it was your cabbages growing large just after a few days of planting, then the tomatoes and now the tulips. The colorful bulbs sway in the breeze, the fragrant flowery smell relaxes your bones. Yet you can't help but feel creeped out by the weird phenomena.

You just moved in recently to a quaint town that's settled right on the edge of a dense woodland area. You've heard of the stories when a human has captured a fae’s attention, and it looks like this is the case for you. All the stories don't always end well for the former. But if the extremely fast growth of your garden says anything, it's that this particular fae means well. Hopefully.

So as a thank you to the kind entity, you place a bowl of milk and honey right under where your tulips are planted. You've even left a plate of salad all made from the crops you've lovingly planted and bloomed after just a few days of planting. You think for a second that maybe the soil under your feet is healthy and bountiful but there's no harm done if there isn't any mythical creature helping you. The worst case is a raccoon eating your offerings.

Bewildered is an understatement, your eyes are the size of dinner plates once you see something shimmering on the ground. Whatever you did, the fae seems to like it. They left a crown of daisies on your doorstep the next morning, the petals are all adorned with flecks of gold. The flowers run like silk under your fingers.

You look past your garden to the woods, the fog swirls around the edge. In your vision you see the mist form and shape into a tall slim figure. Your hand tightens around the crown of flowers, hands shaking in disbelief.

You didn't go out that day.

More gifts appear outside your home, tiny trinkets woven carefully to create something beautiful. A bouquet of flowers on your windowsill, a figurine of a spider made from vines that's left hanging by the large oak in your backyard. They all appear outside your house so there's no cause for actual fear. If only you stop feeling eyes on you whenever you go outside.

A friend from the city visited you one day, telling you how much they've missed you, gushing on how much you've missed while away. They ask if you ever feel lonely out in the outskirts of the country you could always come visit them.

The same eyes you feel outside can be felt in your bedroom that night.

Whatever latched on to you seems benevolent, watchful, yes but not evil or controlling. You've gotten used to the presence after a few months of living at your cottage. You've even started talking to them during the day when you have no one to turn to. You tell them stories of your almost forgotten childhood and your old life where the houses are made of glass and grey stone, where they stood high above, almost touching the heavens. They've never responded, always listening and ever present.

He wants to respond though, tell you tales of old, where the flowers used to sing and dance, where the woods reigned supreme above all. He misses them, yes, but he misses your voice more. Is it possible to miss your touch too even though he's only imagined it before? Perhaps your hands feel like the finest silk spun upon his skin, your fingers weaving through his like a glittering river, waking him up from his centuries of stagnant waters.

He's seen you laugh and cry, and tend to your garden like it’s your own children. He wants nothing more but to join you in harvesting your bounty, to converse with you and listen to you mumble about your day. Gradually he appears behind you when your back is turned, watching as you make your dinner, observing you plant something new. Then in a flash, he vanishes when you turn around. Leaving you feeling empty

You enter the gates of your garden with tears in your eyes, words barely coherent by your sobs. Kneeling in front of your tulips, you grasp the grass underneath, pulling and ripping out the blades. A sudden hand circles around your wrist, warmth enveloping you in a crashing wave.

He appears just behind the tulips, your eyes soften when your vision focuses on his handsome and otherworldly face. He doesn't know what's gotten you upset but what he does know is that it'll be alright for now on. Because he's—

“Here, ‘m here” His voice calms you down like a thick blanket in the winter.

Without hesitation, you embrace him, the smell of sandalwood and flowers almost stops your heart. You grip him tight, his strong arms envelope you securely, his face nuzzled right between the space over your neck. You do the same, already feeling at home on his skin.

“You're here. You’re real, aren't you?”

“As real as you” he leans back to look at your tear stained cheeks, wiping it with his thumbs. “And here to stay if you want me to”

“Please” you lean on his touch.

He nods, placing a weighted kiss on your forehead. Suddenly you know his name. You call it sweetly amidst the tears, it feels welcome on your tongue.

For the first time in years, Hobie smiles and chuckles, kissing you atop your eyelids with a promise to never leave your side.

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callsignvenomcod · 4 months

Text

baby boy

Prompt: Reader's Simon childhood love from Manchester. Or Simon's past catches up with him on a random patrol day.

One shot based on the song "Baby boy" by Childish Gambino.

warnings: parent abandonment, age gap couple.

______________________________________________________________

It was an agreement.

It was a civil agreement made between two responsible adults in the best benefit of a third party. It was supposed to be easy, the best way to come to terms with it, but as he was going to learn later in life, nothing came easy for Simon Riley. Or anyone unlucky or dumb enough to stick around with him.

He secretly always imagined how it would be like to see her again. It was a pleasure he reserved for lonely nights, for really long desert crawls, for the frail moments, suspended in air, between standing at the edge of a helicopter door and the decisive jump. He always imagined alternative universes in which he actually had a lucky star, in which he actually had a chance at life, at happiness, at being domestic, nothing but a fat house cat.

Simon met the girl in the butcher shop. He took the first job he could get his hands on. It wasn't bad. Not bad, bad.

Where else? Girls like her didn't walk around his side of town, but they all had to eat; and cutting up carnage and splashing around blood, that he could do. She walked into the Butcher's, making the little bell on top of the door ding, and Simon knew, with as much certain that he knew that one day he would die, that his life had changed forever.

He was scarred but the light inside him still worked. Simon had skeletons in his closet, but he was doing such a good job at keeping them at bay. When she walked into the butcher's, fivers in her hand, Simon could stand up straight, could spare a few small smiles, could keep the voices in his mind at peace, for the brief interactions, the shared smiles and pleasantries, the "What's your name?", "You from around?" and "What time you get off?", the way the girl tried so very hard to divert her gaze from the blood stained apron.

It led to so much more. She worked half time at a chippy, and they did good. They did really good for a couple conformed by a Manchester alley kid and the fucking angel that she was. He was in love, and therefore he was in trouble, because no one was around to teach him how to deal with a swollen heart about to burst; and with an outside world that was made of needles and pins.

He liked the way her smile tilted up whenever she was directing it to him, the way she would sit down at a stool in the butcher's, waiting for him to get off shift, just so he could walk her home. Liked the way her skin felt under his rugged hands, how soaked she would get through grey panties, how he drank her saliva right off her lips and how she whispered how much she loved him, actually, truly, loved him, while he was trying his best not to cum in his pants, short breath, in the living room of her house, while her mother was upstairs watching Channel 4, willing to overlook the fact that Simon was a bit (or a lot) older than her daughter because she had never seen her so happy.

And they loved each other. He can say it; it doesn't hurt, doesn't embarrass him either; if anything, he feels unusually lucky his nostalgia makes him wonder at nights, patrolling the barracks or in this case, a small English city, with so many men and women who looked like the people he grew up with.

Then 9/11 happened, and it was too big to ignore, too big to drink away, and she cried when saying goodbye to him on the train station on his way to join, and she knew deep down inside her that Simon Riley was not the kind of man that would turn around to give her one last glance before disappearing into the military for a few months. It was a higher calling, something bigger than him, a reason to get away, from his childhood home that was wrecking, from his father, from something hungry that lived inside of him and was getting out of control.

She called him the minute she way Tommy starting to get bad. She was younger, younger than Tommy even and had reached out to a cabin to dial the number he gave her "for emergencies only", and she told him how Tommy had been stealing from their mum, stumbling around alleys with the wrong crowd, leaving Beth a crying mess in her room, looking too much like Daddy.

That's when he came back. Took a train in the January rain and fixed his whole house up. Picked up his mum from the hoarder state she was in, kicked common sense into his baby brother and simultaneously kicked his old man out. Never to be seen again.

Y/N's watched from the courtside every moment; watched as Simon cleaned up vomit from Tommy's chin, while Beth's belly swollen with a baby, and she cooked porridge while Simon allowed his mum to cry on his chest for hours and hours, victim of the detox, of the night horrors, and herself. All of them became the new Riley's in a way, and she stopped going home to her mother, just crashing at Simon's twin size mattress, in his childhood bedroom that still had the Man U posters on the walls and a beaten-up Walkman CD player.

-I couldn't do this without you...- Simon had whispered after a particularly difficult night that involved Tommy screaming and Beth threatening to throw herself off the stairs. They were lying in bed in their underwear, cozied up together, warm limbs and tangled sheets, staring at the fading glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. She turned on her side, staring at his nose drawn by the shadows. His warm, yet tired eyes, looked back at her and they shared a sorry excuse of a smile before they could share a kiss.

They were in the shit, and the girl on his too small bed was in it for the laughs of it, for a chance to sleep by his side. For that thing they called love.

Winter arrived. The house was freezing still, but they could afford heating now. Now Tommy was paid up for, and he was a butcher at the groceries, and Beth stayed home with Mum and Jacob, the baby. He was skinny for a newborn, the doctors said, but he will catch up with breastfeeding. Simon was a best man at the wedding, but he didn't give a speech. Y/N's was maid of honor, but only because Beth had no other friends. The photos never lie, and you can see Simon with the longest hair he's ever had, in a fitted suit, stern look, a girl clinging from his arm, a baby brother hugging him, a mother with crinkles, a sister-in-law elegantly 9 months pregnant in a wedding dress.

For a moment it was nice, and the future was looking bright. He got a taste of what life could have been like if the stars would have been kind to them. He would wake up early to jog and would see the back of Tommy's head while he left for work, and almost every day his mum would be up, carrying around Jacob in a bathrobe. Beth would cook breakkie and Y/N's would always ask him if he wanted red or brown sauce even if she knew that he wanted brown.

It could have been...good. Great, even. But instead of that it was real life.

He left for Ukraine a few days after he learned she was pregnant with his child; and he thanked every damn God or Goddess he knew of when he learned that everyone was dead except her; her mum falling ill and asking her to take care of her in her childhood house. The blood didn't reach her; she still didn't pay for loving Simon. He became radioactive after that and closed his ears to any plea, to any love confession and promise of safety. He wanted her to hate him, to want him away, he wanted her to have an abortion, she wanted a baby. A baby with him. His baby.

"A part of me and you", she said, "something ours. Untouchable."

But they weren't untouchable, were they? He had scars for days to prove it, coffins, even a child size one, night horrors, a medal, had proof every time he closed his eyes, had nightmares about how many people had touched him and everyone near him. It was a no brainer.

When Price told 141 about this patrolling mission, he would be lying if he said that a shiver ran down his spine and he heard bells for a couple of minutes before forcing himself to come back to the briefing reunion. There was always a chance.

While everyone thought that Ghost would be at least thrilled at the prospect of going back to the UK, Price kept a close eye on him. He knew he was only a few years older than Simon, and his boss as well, but they had seen hell together and survived it. The captain cared for his team, cared, weather he wanted to admit it or not.

Truth was that he wanted to say he knew all about the men he worked with, but that would be a lie, a lie every captain said once in a while. He knew, for example, that Johnny "Soap" MacTavish had two older sisters in Fort Augustus, Scotland, Mary and Ava. He knew Roach had a horrible fear of clowns for some accident in a party all those years ago, Nikolai, Yuri, he had facts about them too.

He knew, for example, that somewhere in England, Ghost had a kid. A baby boy.

Every month, a generous amount of his paycheck went to a throwaway account in the Bank of England, more than half. And he had listed a minor for healthcare and schooling, housing military benefits, The name was Alfie Riley, listed as Alfie Smith; and he was 6 years old.

Simon knew he knew. He trusted that upon him, not out of pure friendship or companionship, but maybe with a hint of letting him know that if it leaked, he had no problem into taking the business into his own hands. There was only so much you could stretch a person without breaking it, and if anything happened to the boy, Price knew it would be Simon's point of no return. A monster would be born or rather, let out of the cage.

Sometimes he thought about it while staring at him on a briefing. Sometimes he tried not to.

-Right. The intel we have on this cell comes from the right source. Our man says this human trafficking cell operates within the church compounds. He believes it has something to do with the orphanage...

Captain Price's voice boomed through the briefing room designated in the security house. They had arrived a few days ago, and it looked as if the whole city of Salisbury took a deep breath at the presence of military men and women. For sure it was an odd view, big bulky men walking around the country fields, around town, asking questions, smiling, blank faces, new voices and sights; but they knew, at least, the problems the community had been facing, will now come to an end finally. The 141 was going to help with that. They were the good lads.

-So split up, ask around. They know were here. - Price said, staring at Gaz from behind his desk; giving the order and finishing the meeting. Soap and Simon bantered around something as they usually did. He sighed, watching as Simon stared dead in front of him while the younger soldier tried to get inside his head. -Kyle, you're with me. Let Bert and Ernie fetch for themselves. - he sentenced, and that was that.

They were sent to walk around Salisbury. They could see the warmth of people's lives, a few kids crossing the street, a teenager in love, dogs being walked, girls staring at windows with headphones on, daydreaming. It was a life so far from the one they had, from the one they choose when they were too young, that is seemed foreign, alien. Johnny MacTavish smiled at walkers who stared at the vest, or his stupid haircut, whatever that catches their sight first.

Salisbury was a small city, one of the smallest in England, actually, and Simon had never been there before this mission. There was a church in every corner, much like Cornwall, but it lacked the shore and the salt in the water. It was Johnny who did all the talking anyway; what, with being younger, less imponent, with the thick Scottish accent that made everyone pay attention, either to help or to even try to understand what he was saying. Specially since Johnny actually had a face to show, and a friendly one.

Right now, Simon was backup, right now he was deuteragonist.

Simon limits himself to lean against one of the local pastries shop fronts, while Johnny walked inside. He thinks that right now would be a great time to have picked up the habit of smoking, to pass the time, to measure it in cigarettes, but a troubled childhood and several fading little dot scars on his arms remind him how repulsed he was by cigarettes. So, he stares at the road in front of him, at the other shops, at the people that stare back at him because of-fucking-course, he's wearing a skull balaclava, and he's 6'2, and he's a crucial part of the army party that erupted in Salisbury a few days ago, asking questions, taking names.

It takes him a minute or two to realize what's going on. It was an agreement. Part ways, stay in the country to get the benefit, but never let each other know where they were. When Simon died, a letter would arrive, a letter with his dog tags and she will see it fit to know what to do next.

-Fucking hell...- he muttered and sprung up like a slinky. He panicked for a few moments before realizing even if she stared right at him, she couldn't recognize him; she would only see a dirty, dusty skull balaclava and black grease over his eyes.

She would not see Simon, the boy that left her a few years ago, he wouldn't see Simon the man who simply stood there while she was trying to level with him on raising the kid together, to be a family, and she wouldn't see Simon, the man who did what he had to do. Who erased his own face from the world, who spared them both, Y/N's and Alfie, of a life of wondering when they were going to be kidnapped, hurt or killed.

Men like Simon were not meant to have a family, to have people to depend on them, not like this, not this close, because in the blink of an eye, shit would hit the fan and things like Manchester massacre would happen again and again and again. He would be left firing his gun to an empty field with nothing ticking inside his chest. It was better this way.

But nothing could prepare him for this moment. It was a sick joke of destiny, really, to be stationed in one of the smallest cities in England, and for her to be standing right across the street, holding their son in her arms, looking both sides, like a good mum, before letting her white keds touch the pavement.

Alfie was a brunette. It made sense; and if this was lighter, he would roll his eyes and the bowl cut the kid had, which combined with their missing could be a picture-perfect description of a rascal. Except he didn't know a thing about Alfie other that he had been to the doctors twice past month, one to the dentist, one to the medic. Stomachache. 10 pounds for tablets. Simon didn't know if he was a rascal or not, if he had friends or didn't, if he was in trouble at school or not, didn't know his favorite show or his favorite color, what he wanted to be when he grew up. All he knew was that he loved him, it didn't matter that the kid will never hear from him or meet him. Simon loved them enough to remove himself from their lives. To give them a chance that he was denied from the beginning.

His P.O. box said that he got letters once in a while, from different cities in England, and you didn't have to be a genius to figure out who wrote to him. He only ever picked up one, and it was simply a polaroid. It was her, and it was his son, and she was smiling at the camera with very tired eyes, an oversized shirt, and messy hair, and Alfie was on her lap, missing teeth, bowl cut, space shirt, freckled face full of birthday cake. A candle in the shape of the number 6.

Little hands, little feet, tiny heart, tiny beat

It was better this way. He would repeat himself that every morning as soon as he woke up in a barrack, instead of a military housing, alone and cold, instead of next to her and warm with the heat of her body. Sneaking a quick fuck with the love of his life before the kid two doors down woke up.

It was better this way. She would walk right past him, not knowing that the soldier in front of the pastries shop learned every curve in her body, every freckle, the birthmark in her right rib; He would thank his mask once again, and let his eyes wonder at the way she struggled with her bag, with still holding Alfie in her arms, while trying to stay alert.

It was better this way. A grenade will reach him, or the enemy, Ali Baba, a Russian, a Mexican, another Brit, the son or daughter or brother or best friend of someone he fucked up in the past. Cancer, a snake.

A heart failure at 70, a bullet at 41. He would die eventually, and they will give him his dog tags, and he will have a slight discomfort knowing his father died, but that's it. Like learning an actor from your childhood died of age; sad, but irrelevant. The day will go on.

It was better this way. She will fall in love again, with a bank clerk, or a veterinarian or Alfie's football coach. Someone else will teach Alfie how to be a father, will tie his shoelaces, will talk to him about girls, about fist fights, will buy him his first pint. It was better this way; Y/N's will tell him about him someday and he will look for him, or not, he will understand or not, he will hate him, forgive him, love him, in that order, or not.

It was better this way. It was.

There was a time before you, and there will be a time after you. With these vibes or not, walk tall, little man, walk tall.

It was better this way. His breath would get caught up in his throat as he saw Y/N's try to control the child, placing him on the ground, holding his hand while she looked inside her bag for something. And Alfie's blue eyes would wonder his surroundings, piercing his father's heart without knowing so. Simon wouldn't move, Alfie neither, but they would stare at each other for a few seconds before the kid broke out in a smile, tugging at his mother's hand, saying something in a squeaky voice, with a south accent, tiny index finger pointing at Ghost's skull mask. He had his mother's smile, but those eyes were all Simon.

Y/N looked up, finally finding some keys on her bag before returning her attention to the boy latched to her hand and she will also look at Simon without knowing so. The woman would frown for a moment, before giving up a quivering smile, murmuring something to the kid, pulling him to the opposite direction. And for Alfie, that was going to be it. The day went on. The man stood there thinking he couldn't do this with her, he shouldn't, and every attempt to reach out was an attempt against his kin. That there were some people that shouldn't be a father, like his own father, like his father's father.

She turned around a few times, locking eyes with the man in the balaclava before disappearing into the street, mixing up with the people walking by; the coats and the jackets. And Simon gulped down nervous saliva, suddenly needing to lean on the wall a bit more than he wanted to admit.

It was better this way.

______________________________________________________________

Hello! Venom here.

This is the first time I write for the COD fandom and for Ghost Riley. An absolute menace, I think he is. Please let me know what you think about it and give me a follow if you liked it.

Thank you :)

#simon riley #cod headcanons #cod mw2 x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #cod #x reader #reader insert #dad simon

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nina-renmen · 8 months

Note

Damn I love the story 🤭😍

Could you make apart3 if it’s possible

Absolutely! This is the final part of this series, but anyone can request another Pickle scenario! But please enjoy!

Pickle X Black reader Final Part

A woman shreiked from behind Y/n making her turn around quickly. Her fighting instincts kicking in. That was until she bumped into a large, broad chest. Puzzled, Y/n looked up and her eyes widened.

“Pickle?” Y/n questioned. Pickle was in street clothes that were obviously too small for him. But he was able to put them on. Pickle growled affectionately at Y/n, pulling out pretty rocks from his pockets. He handed the prettiest one to y/n, the rock was white with splashes of blue patterns on it. It seemed to have sparkled in the city lights and stars.

Pickle was trying to court her. Pickle gave Y/n more rocks, not wanting him to throw a fit in public she took them, unknowingly accepting stage one of the courting process. Pickle purred, his chest rumbling as he watched Y/n accept his gifts before bending down and rubbing his cheek against hers before licking her cheek.

“Ewww! Pickle!” Y/n exclaimed, wiping the saliva off of her cheek. She scrunched her nose up in distaste as Pickled tilted his head to the side like a confused predator. Nonetheless, his chest never stopped rumbling as he purred, propping his chin up on Y/n’s head. Y/n Yelped as Pickle all but snatched her up. He took her as if she were a delicate flower that would easily rip by just a harsh rain drop. Hoisting her over his shoulder Pickle slipped through Ally-Ways as Y/n struggled out of his grip, but it was no use. The pretty rock that fell out of her pocket told her why this was happening.

Before she knew it she was in an unknown area. An unknown animal dead in front of her, killed by pickle. The primitive man pushed the carcass over to Y/n. It was another gift, he was showing her that he was strong and worthy enough to protect her. Pickle flashed his teeth, he looked as if he were smiling. But in reality it was a courting ritual, usually the female wanted to see how strong the males teeth were. The female wanted to feel protected in case something happened to her and she left her young.

Y/n looked down at the dead animal, it was large that’s for sure. But it was raw, how did Pickle expect her to eat this? She’d surely get sick. Looking around, Y/n found some dry sticks that were nearby and picked them up. But as she made a spark Pickle growled at her, it was custom to eat the meal raw. She was breaking tradition.

“How did you expect me to eat that?! It’s raw! I’m going to cook it.” Y/n huffed as she made another spark only for the sticks to be taken from Y/n’s hands and practically turned into dust by Pickles grip.

Once again, Pickle picked up the carcass and plopped it down in front of Y/n. He sat opposite from Y/n, pushing the carcass over to her, as is urging her to eat his kill…To eat his trophy.

Y/n only looked down at the carcass and shook her head no. It was raw, she wasn’t willing to get sick at the expense of his feelings. This only angered the primitive man, before Y/n could get up and make a run for it Pickle had grabbed her arm. Once again he forcefully hoisted her over his shoulder and moved at incredible speed. No amount of struggling or protests could slow him down as they eventually ended up in what looked like the sewers.

Y/n felt trapped as she looked around the unknown place. How would he escape. Pickle pulled Y/n ti his chest and sat down, holding y/n in his lap as his chest rumbled once more.

Another one of the pretty rocks slipped out of Y/n’s pocket as she tried to struggle out of his grip. She froze looking down at the white and blue splashed rock and suddenly realized why she was in this mess….

If only she hadn’t accepted that damn rock.

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brownsugarwrites · 5 months

Text

Hold on.

Pairings: countryboy!kenshi x citygirl!black!reader

Warnings: cursing. smut. praise. vaginal sex. spitting. fingering. creampie. nipple play. reader has braids and nipple piercings. mentions of lingere. Pet names (sugar, baby, sunshine, babygirl, pretty girl, my wife). you and kenshi are newlyweds on yalls honeymoon!.

wc: 2.0

notes: Loved writing this. I hope you enjoy. If theres any warnings I miss please let me know. For your listening pleasure.

The crackles of the wooden fireplace could be heard throughout the quaint cabin as the aromas of the freshly made chilli could be smelled throughout.

It was always in the plan for you two to have a winter honeymoon and you were shocked it came so soon. But the wait was worth it. You spent some much needed time with your husband and even learning things about him you never knew.

When you two went snowboarding he was actually good at it. It made you jealous he was able to ride more of the intermediate slopes while you had to stay on the kiddie ones.

Out of side hitting the slopes, most of you and Kenshi's time was spent hiking, exploring the woods, and going to the city to explore and eat.

While you weren't complaining you missed your man in ways only he could statsify. You had brought this pink frilly lettuce trim lingerie set to wear for him since it was your honeymoon but by the time you got back from your activities each day, the two of you just wanted to shower and sleep.

But luckily for you the last day in the cabin was spent just relaxing and cuddling. The two of you watched the snowfall with a cup of hot chocolate and watched a few movies to pass the time.

Now that it was a little later into the night. The two of you migrated to the room with the floor-to-ceiling windows directly looking over the frozen lake which the moon reflected from as the warm lights from the lamp illuminated the room.

“Did you enjoy your time sugar?” his honey-thick accent rung out

Looking into his eyes, you nodded before sitting on your knees.

“I did Ken. The scenery was so nice and all the delicious food! You chose a great spot” you said smiling

You watched as he put both his hands behind his head smiling at you. Closing your eyes gently you sighed trying to drown out the inappropriate thoughts about your newlywed husband before opening them up again.

Quick flashes of the way he went down on you on your wedding night still had you captivated and had wanting for more.

But the winter season was so rough on him on the farm so your sex life wasn't like it was before the two of you got married. You let him focus on his crops and animals while you made sure to take care of him the best way you could. But the lingering touches and kisses really set your body on fire. You felt like a teenage girl experiencing touch for the first time.

Coming on this trip you expected sex on top of sex. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. You were damned if you were going to let this last night go to waste.

“Something on your mind sweetheart?” Kenshi would ask seeing that you started to stare off into space.

“Yes actually,” you said eyes meeting his

Gesturing for you to expand further you told him to wait on the bed and you’ll be right back. Going to your duffle bag you stuffed the lingerie set under your shirt before scurrying into the ensuite bathroom.

Cocking an eyebrow he shrugged his shoulders before going back to his phone to check on some orders pertaining the farm. A couple of moments flew by and he wondered if you were ok in there.

“You ok in there baby girl?” he asked from the bed.

Becoming startled you quickly closed the top of your mascara and sounded back a yes telling him you’ll be out in a moment. You were nervous for some reason. It wasn't like he hadn't seen you naked but it's been a while since you've been intimate and this was your first time dressing up for him.

Your pierced nipples with the hearts on the barbells could be seen through the mesh of your top and so could the small wet patch seen from your underwear as well. You finished putting on your pink glittery lip gloss before adjusting the cute pink bow that held your knotless braids in a ponytail and fixing the pendant with your husbands initial on it.

“Baby I'm coming out,” you said peeking your head outside

“Ok I'm ready f’you” he said smiling while doing the come here motion with his fingers

“You have to close your eyes, Ken!!! It's a surprise,” you said excitedly

Closing his eyes you made sure he wasn't looking before peeping over to the bed and going back to your previous position of sitting on your knees. As he felt the bed dip he got a whiff of that particular flower scent you loved.

“Open your eyes,” you said through small giggles

Opening his brown eyes, he saw you sitting so pliantly in the skimpiest of clothing with the cutest smile on your pretty face as the diamonds of the necklace sparkled against your brown skin.

“ ‘s all for me, sweetheart?” he asked sitting up on the headboard and watching you as you nodded your head chewing on your glossed lip a little

“What for?” he asked before rubbing up and down your thigh that held the lacy bow garter.

“You know… it's our honeymoon and I wanted to look pretty for you! Also because we haven't had sex in a while” you said mumbling the last part.

Giving a “hm” in satisfaction he played with the garter for a minute before snapping it against your thigh. Hissing at the sensation you playfully hit his chest before giggling.

“You too quiet,” you said meekly

“Just enjoying the view sugar that's all,” he said grinning up at you before going back to rubbing your plush thighs

Repositioning yourself back onto your knees Kenshi took notice of the sticky wet spot that clung onto your sheer panties. Smirking he looked up at your soft face before opening his mouth to speak.

“You look so pretty in this lil get-up you have on” he teased moving his hands closer to your clothed cunt

Your cheeks burned as the compliment went towards your pulsing cunt. Giving a thank you he slotted his fingers into the inside of your thighs before giving it a squeeze. Without being told your thighs fell open exposing that wet spot on your panties.

Feeling his thumb stroke up and down you sighed squeezing your eyes shut

“Tell me where you want me sugar,” he said continuing the teasing motion.

“Right there Ken please” you pleaded to him grinding yourself onto his hand

Flipping you over to your back his hands found purchase on your hips before moving your underwear to the side swiping his fingers up and down your silt

“Missed this s’much” he said pushing his fingers inside your warm cunt

Whimpering at the sensation your breath came out more of a hiccup as you squirmed under him.

“You’re so good to me sweetheart. Getting all dolled up just f’me. Makes me feel like the luckiest man.” he expressed while putting pressure against your clit

“K-kenshi please bout to cum” you whined back arching off the bed

“Cmon sweetheart let it out” he instructed you as you came undone from his fingers

Letting out a squeal your body went limp on the bed as you caught your breath

“Fuck” you rasped out breathless coming down from your orgasm

This is what you wanted. What you craved for all those nights leading up to this honeymoon. Your plan was coming into fruition.

Looking to where your husband was seen taking off his shirt revealing in the intricate tattooed arm sleeve that transformed to a chest piece. You smiled sweetly at your beloved husband as your head rested on the pillow.

You had to be some angel that fell from the sky. At least thats how he felt about you. He knew from the first date he wanted to make you his wife. Even with the stark differences of you being a city girl and him being a traditional country boy.

He knew he wanted to take care/provide for you as long as you lived. He would do anything if it meant seeing you smile. He loved you more than anything.

Pulling you to the edge of the bed he hooked your plush thighs across his hips as you rested on the palm of your hands. Staring at you his eyes trailed to the diamond K pendant that stopped right before the valley of your breasts he placed a kiss to your collarbone leading up to shoulder eventually finding his way to your neck. Moaning softly you tilted your head in order to give him more access to you.

Deciding to become bold with your words you told him what you wanted.

“Kenshi.. I need you to fuck me.. Please” you said feeling your self go crazy at the incessant teasing

Hearing those words fall from your glossed lips he groaned in response before yanking your thin panties off and quickly unbuckling his pants. Freeing his dick from its confines he held out his hand as he instructed you to spit on it before going back to stroke himself a few times.

Squirming at the sight you tried to pull him as close as you could so that he was close to your entrance. Bringing you into a kiss he gave himself a few more pumps before lining himself with your pussy and pushing in gently.

“Oh shit” you whined little tears pricking at your eyes as your eyes squeezed shut

“Just focus on me sunshine, relax let me make you feel good” he cooed as his free hand came to your pierced nipple rolling it gently feeling your hips buck into him

“Thats it pretty girl. You can take it all right baby?” He asked pushing in further as you choked back a yes

“I know you can babygirl. Such a good wife f’me isnt that right” he asked as you nodded your head in agreement

Bottoming out he quickly began to give you long and deep strokes as you moaned in his ear about how deep he was. One hand held you to him as plowed into you hearing your cries for more and your babbling. Your nails dug in his toned back as you came again for the second time with out warning.

Not giving you much time to think he flipped you over onto your stomach placing a pillow under your lower stomach you tried to catch yourself from falling but quickly felt a pair of hands steady you as he pushed back in.

“Oh fuck, w-ait Kenshi please” you begged as tears fell from your eyes still sensitive from your prior orgasm.

Ignoring your cries he plowed into you watching the way your ass rippled everything time he pushed back into you. Your head rested on duvet as they caught your tears as your hands tried to push him away to slow him down.

“Nun uh sweetheart you can handle it. Doing s’good for me just hold out for me” he said taking your hand and kissing the finger that held the wedding ring he put on your finger

Coming close to your orgasm again your cries became louder as you asked your husband to let you cum. Nearing his release he gave you the greenlight as he came with you cum filling up your pussy as it still clenched around his dick.

Pulling out gently he watched as his load seeped out of you before turning you back over to see you falling asleep

“Hey, sweetheart, wake up f’me gotta get you cleaned” he said placing soft kisses along your face to wake you up

“Need a few minutes ken. Please” you said in between breathes laced with sleepiness

Laughing at your fucked out state he gave you one more kiss before letting you rest. Watching your chest rise and fall as the soft light illuminated you

“Thank you for being my wife. Thank you for everything” he said quietly as he ran his hand over your braids.

#mortal kombat x black!reader #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat smut #mortal kombat x black reader #kenshi takahashi #kenshi x reader #kenshi smut #kenshi x black reader #kenshi takashi x reader #kenshi takashi x black reader #video game x reader #video game smut #video game fanfic

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harleehazbinfics · 2 months

Text

Home is where my Heart is.

Chapter 8: An Angel's Head Table of Contents | Profile

Word Count: 2128 A/N: aaaaa take it. we're getting more miledy backstory in the next chapter, cheers!

Feeling a gentle hand sweep through my face, I open my eyes and see Al. I wiped my own tears away and sat up.

“Couldn’t sleep well?” he asked somberly.

“Yeah, just- it’s just a few months until her birthday is all. I just miss her so much,” I answered hugging myself trying to shake my anxiety.

He sighs, probably feeling the same way. Al left us before Abby could even reach her 4th birthday. He adored Abigail, in some way she had her grandmother’s face that made him attached to her even more. So, leaving without seeing Abby through adulthood has been rough on him. Though I’ve him told stories about our lives, how Abby missed him and often quoted his sayings from his recorded shows that she begged me to give her when she found it in her father’s old studio when we were cleaning it out. It warmed his heart that he was still an important part of her life despite being gone, clearly pleased that he didn’t end up like his own dad that he grown to despise.

“I know, but since we haven’t found her here. She must be off up there, somewhere better… safer…” he mutters almost regretfully.

I tried to smile and held his hand in assurance, “Yeah, I hope you’re right.”

He raises his lips to a smile and says, “Well then! How about some breakfast to lighten up the mood?” and guides me to the table in the woods in our room placing a dish for me and a deer carcass on his side. I roll my eyes playfully at him and said, “I’m not standing next to you if you don’t take a mint after.”

“Of course, of course. I won’t forget.”

While we enjoyed our meal together, the door bursts open to reveal Vaggie and a bunch of Eggbois.

“Alastor!”

His eyes shifted from her to me and his meal before replying, “Do you mind? I’m in the middle of breakfast.”

“Good morning to you too, Vaggie,” I greet before eating a mouthful of the meal that Alastor prepared for me.

“Hi,” she responds dryly, “Pentious' eggs are all over the place, and I need you to get rid of them.”

He throws away his utensils and summons his microphone before responding, “Oh, well, in that case, I'd be delighted to!”

“Humanely!”

“Hmm. Well, that's a lot less fun,” he remarks turning his head from Vaggie and on to me revealing his glowing red eyes and the x-mark on his forehead, “but I suppose I can take care of that on my outing today.”

“Great!” she looks at our table and sees the dead deer and comments, “That looks disgusting.”

“Dear, can you wait after breakfast?” I sighed, while Vaggie saw herself out.

“Alright, I can wait,” he smiled smiling at me and sitting in front of me again.

“Hello, little men. How are you all doing today?”

“Hi, pretty fish lady! We’re well, though we got kicked out by the owners, now we’re going wherever you go!”

I laugh at them petting their heads, “I see. Now be good eggbois and follow Alastor and I closely. We don’t want you ending up cracked.”

They saluted at us rather clumsily making it endearing for me to look at, they remind me so much of how the children in the orphanage played pretend.

As we enter Pentagram City, the little Eggbois kept pestering Alastor with questions making me cover my giggles under my hand as I watched his eye twitch in annoyance from their never-ending questions.

“This seems rather familiar. Remember when Abby reached the age where she would question us about everything?” I started with a smile, trying to calm him down.

He huffs out a laugh and nods, then shakes his head, “She was so talkative, it seemed like she would never lose her voice.”

“She’s a lot like you in that way,” I grin bumping my hips at him.

We get caught off-guard when Zestial comes before us, I guess we were so engrossed in our conversation that we missed this mighty being’s arrival.

“Hark, Alastor, M’lady. How fare thee this day?”

He places a peck on my hand in greeting while Alastor makes a little static sound.

“Who's that, boss? Want me to rough him up for you?”

“Follow in silence if you value your shell!” he replies tapping their heads and then turns back, “Greetings, Zestial!”

“Ah, the weather, doth become this fine day.”

“Indeed, looks like we might have some acid rain this afternoon!”

Not a moment later, a demon overhearing their conversation lights themselves on fire and runs away screaming, my eyes following his figure before our party continues with our walk. I let the two gentlemen talk with themselves—listening in to their conversation.

“If our luck doth hold! I do revel in the screams. How art thou? It has been an age since thou hath graced us thy presence. Some hath spun wild tales of you falling to... holy arms.”

As he says this, my eyes couldn’t help but widen at the implication. This wasn’t just about him helping Charlie, who by proxy is Lucifer’s daughter—an angel. Does he mean that he made a deal with someone from heaven. With a confused look, I turn my eyes on Alastor who looks around somewhat nervously.

“Oh, I just took a well-earned sabbatical, nothing serious,” he adjusts his bowtie in the mirror as he answers, “Though it's fun to keep everyone on their toes!”

“There too hath been rumor of thy involvement with the princess and her recent flight of fancy. Tell me,” he stops walking and opens his coat briefly, making me somewhat embarrassed for looking directly at him, “how does thou fall in such folly?

“That is for me to know. But please, do guess, I'd love to know the theories!” Alastor answers holding his cane in one hand and the other on my waist pulling us forward.

“T'would be grander folly by far to assume the workings of your mind, Alastor. Thou hath been naught but an enigma since thy manifested in this realm!” Zestial comments.

“Coming from someone as ancient as you, I take that as quite the compliment!” Alastor ‘smiles’ as we arrive at the entrance to Carmilla’s building. While we got on the elevator, the little Eggbois closely followed only to be stopped by Alastor.

“No, no. I have a very important task for you. Stay here and guard the front until I return,” Alastor commands making them salute. I raise my eyebrow counting only four of them. I find the other one near the door, which I pushed behind me with my foot signaling him to stay quiet.

We entered the venue, quietly greeting Rosie then sitting between her and Alastor.

“Welcome, Hell sovereign overlords. I've invited you all here because you represent the controlling powers of our city. Together, you own millions of souls. Souls at risk with the new Extermination schedule. We need to discuss what can be done to minimize the impact to our interest.”

“Zestial, so good to see you, my friend,” she greets when he sits near her.

He summons a teacup and saucer and replies, “Enchanted as always, Carmilla.”

She finally notices my husband and calls him, “Alastor?”

He replies smugly, “Yes, I know I've been absent some time. I'm sure you've all been wondering!”

“...Not really. But welcome back in any case,” she replies dismissing him which he narrows his eyes in offence to.

“This year's Extermination was brutal, far more even than years past. We have assessed that about 16% of the population was lost With the angelic legions now returning twice as quickly, I think it prudent we—"

She gets cut off when Velvette enters the room on the phone with presumably one of the other Vees, side-eyeing her for her impertinence.

“Yes, I've got it handled, Vox. Are you doubting me? Really? Me? That's what I thought. Haha! Yes, I know. They're all a joke. Thank you, V. See you soon. Kisses, darling.”

“Nice of you to join us, Velvette. Will your... colleagues be joining?” Carmilla asks despite being rudely cut off by the brat.

“No, they have better shit to do than to listen to an old windbag who thinks she's tough shit. I'm here to represent.”

“Charming. So, as I was saying, we need to discuss—"

She again interrupts Carmilla by waving her hand to get her attention.

“Yes?”

“On the subject of discussion,” she starts before taking out an Exorcist’s head throwing it onto the table lolling side to side as it rests in front of us.

“Holy shit!”

“Oh! Tasty...”

Narrowing her eyes, Carmilla asks, “Where did you get this?”

“We found it during Extermination Day. If these Holy Rollers can be killed, the game has changed. We can take the fight to them. The boys and I have come up with a full assault plan—"

Velvette stops talking as she and the other overlords look at Zestial, who is sipping his tea loudly and aggressively to drown out Velvette.

“If it be true thee and thy colleagues desire to war with such meagre proof, thou art far more... foolish than I be thought,” he laughs.

Velvette scoffs and crosses her arms, “Meagre proof? It's a dead fucking Exorcist. I'd say that's pretty fucking definitive. You going blind, old man?”

“We know not how this perished. Mayhaps t'was not by a demon's hand at all. If we rush to war without knowing mightn't, they purge all of Hell for daring an uprising?”

The other overlords mutter in agreement. Velvette notices Carmilla's expression and smiles.

“Oh, I get it. So, Grandpa is too pussy to fight, so I guess there's no point, right?” she says getting on Zestial’s face, “Oh, what's the matter, Fossil? Too senile to make a real power grab for—"

I lost myself with Carmilla and Velvette’s little duet. They’re completely different styles but they blended well together which I appreciated a lot. Despite Velvette being a little brat coming here, I can’t help but enjoy her singing. I got startled when Carmilla announces that the meeting was over. We didn’t even properly start it when Velvette came in and suggested picking a fight with heaven.

Alastor and I walk out of the room eyes never leaving Carmilla. She seemed so defeated.

“Hmm. Well, that's interesting,” he then points at the remaining Eggboi with his cane, “You, little egg creature. I have a job for you.”

“Oh. Yes, boss!”

“Follow them!”

He then salutes and scuttles over inside the room.

I looked at it worriedly, “Will he be alright?”

“Darling. It’s a little egg thing. No need to get so attached,” he titters holding my waist and takes us to the elevator.

“But it’s so cute!” I pouted.

“Alright, we’ll ask Pentious if he can lend you one of them when he can,” he compromises making me beam at him. “Only if, he can tell us something valuable.”

“Deal!” I reply excitedly then giving him a kiss on the cheek are we got off the elevator and waited for the little egg to report to us.

He bounded happily and stops in front of us.

“So, what did you hear?”

“First, the old guy w-was all, "Y-you're not yourself. You're the one who killed the angel," a-a-and, she was all, "♪ Whatever it takes ♪"” he reports clumsily making me smile a how adorable it was.

“And then what was the last thing?" Alastor asks getting annoyed by how jumbled up his sentences were.

“She killed the angel?”

Alastor hums finding this information important, “Interesting. Let’s keep this between us. Shall we?”

“You got it, boss!”

My eyes still wide about the information, “She killed exorcists? How? I mean the evidence was staring at us dead in the face, quite literality but, this changes everything.”

“Indeed. We should keep this to ourselves for now, this could help us someday,” he answers mysteriously.

He’s been doing that more often now with me after those years that he stayed gone. Oh Al, what happened.

We arrive at the hotel seeing them get together so happily bantering with one another.

Vaggie says from the balcony, “Alastor. failed to get rid of the eggs, I see.”

“Yes, well, the little monsters prove to be rather useful,” Alastor replies eyes glowing with excitement.

“Why don't you give them back to Pentious,” she says smiling.

“Really? Sir Pentious asks teary-eyed.

“Yeah. After today, I guess I can trust you with them. But seriously, no more weapons,” she announces putting her foot down.

“Why don’t we go to our room ourselves, dear?” Alastor suggests escorting back us to our room.

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