#I see the disinfectant that knocks it out in a minute

[temis-de-leon]

Love potion and Dateables - Part 3

Characters: Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon and Simeon (x reader, separately)

Intro , Part 1 , Part 2

Masterlist

CW: fluff, hurt, insecurities, Barbatos is living in a horror movie for a hot minute, boys are crushing hard and MC is implied to be crushing hard too, pre-established relationship

A/N: I didn't know what to do for Simeon's part and it turned out to be the longest

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Diavolo

His extensive knowledge on etiquette begged him to knock the door, but his longing asked him otherwise. He didn’t have much time until Lucifer came looking for him and he really, deeply, needed to see you.

RAD’s latest festival had been a massive hit, various stalls displaying regional costumes, homemade food and games, and he had been naïve enough to think he finally had the chance to take you on a real date. A moment with no interruptions for him to show you how he felt and for you to, hopefully, love him back.

Sadly, spirit week passed by and Diavolo barely had any time to see you. All he watched, from your stunning features to your sparkling eyes, had been from afar. And now, days later, he still felt a tingle in his chest whenever he remembered how you looked during the festivities.

So he knocked once, twice, thrice, until his impatience got the best of him and made him open the door.

The room was dark, but your scent still lingered. It felt weird, however. What was it? Your blood and sweat? The products you used on your body and your clothes? Scented candles, perfume, food…? What was it? A mix of everything, it seemed.

The guilt of intruding your private space mildly subdued when he saw the cauldron on the table.

So that’s what it was. Surely homework for Solomon, although he’d had to ask the sorcerer what was the purpose of this particular assignment.

The potion looked like blood covered velvet and it immediately reminded him of his future: a rich fabric drowned in danger. On the other hand, its warmth soon embraced his face, allowing him to imagine your fingers caressing his cheekbones, your lips covering his in a smile with ridiculous care.

Diavolo sighed and walked away from the table, not sure of what to do. He couldn’t stay and risk being caught by you, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night if he went back to the castle without talking to you first.

He checked his uniform, straightening his tie before brushing his hair with his fingers.

If he was lucky, he’d cross paths with you on the hallway.

Barbatos

The House of Lamentation was introduced to a new routine the moment Barbatos saw that rat. Mandatory deep cleaning once a week and very recommended evacuation once a month for disinfecting purposes. Barbatos would refuse to enter the house otherwise, which was the last thing he wanted to do because he hadn’t spent any quality time with you in days.

There had been chit-chat in RAD whenever he saw you, as well as short trivial conversations on the phone. He’d also tried to invite you to his tamest shopping trips and as much tea parties as he was capable of organizing, but damn the brothers for being jealous and making everything so difficult.

Never in his life he would’ve believe he’d feel thankful for a rat’s existence.

However, MC, if you didn’t open your door in the next ten seconds he would open it himself.

Barbatos knocked again, mouth full of saliva and heart jumping out of his chest. He could feel something crawling up his back, whiskers and soft fur exploring his skin under the uniform and tiny claws scratching whatever they could.

Unable to keep waiting in the deserted hallway, wide enough for any rodent to run up to him without being detected, he rushed inside your room and closed the door with a bang. He felt deeply embarrassed, thankful that you weren’t there to see his dishevelled state, but his demeanour changed when he smelt the room.

It was something he was very familiar with: the tea blend he made just for you! Smiling softly at the realization, he created an image in his mind; you trying to do the blend on your own and succeeding. It made his heart soar in pride and apreciation.

His mood quickly changed without him noticing and soon the only thing occupying his mind was you. How thankful you were of his actions, MC, how happy you made him feel by simply existing.

Feeling stronger than ever and giving himself a few more seconds to breathe and regain his rationality, Barbatos opened the door and stepped out of your room.

His fears be damned; he was in dire need of your presence.

Solomon

Your smell vanished soon after your departure and Solomon had to grip the edges of the table to stop himself from grabbing the vial again. He knew what would happen then, as it happened before. He would lose himself in the potion and the memories within, every reason he had to love you and to feel loved by you.

Your humanity, tainted, but still present, the colour of your eyes, the softness of your skin; the lack of horns and wings and tail. How you trusted him against everyone’s advice, like you knew there was more to him that no one else bothered to see.

And he refused to feel threatened by someone like Mammon; Barbatos or Simeon he could understand, but why Mammon? Why did he have to sit and stare whenever the Avatar of Greed reached the limit of his jealousy? And why did that limit lower when Solomon was present?

He frowned in anger and frustration. Ironically, the thing he knew would make him feel better was the one he was viciously trying to avoid. Was he even an option for you, MC? Asmo did tell him from time to time to go for it, but he also inserted himself in those fantasies, so Solomon tended to take his words with a pinch of salt.

Unable to resist the temptation of your comfort, he walked towards the cabinet and grabbed the vial again. How could such a small container radiate so much warmth? For so many years he had it and in just a few months it grew stronger than ever.

Reinvigorated.

That’s how you made him feel. You may call him an old man and he may be an old man, MC, but he wasn’t one to bend the knee and he wouldn’t start doing that now.

Feeling determined, Solomon vaguely waved his hand and watched as his room tidied up itself. Books flying to the shelves on the walls, spell equipment returning to its original place in the table and clothes resting in hangers.

You once called him Mary Poppins and he had yet to understand, but never mind that for now.

He’d give you enough time to make your own potion during the evening and then he’d go to the House of Lamentation. Having your friendship was enough, but King Solomon the Wise never settled.

Simeon

The moment he heard Solomon’s door close, his heart went up his throat, blood rushing through his body in excitement. The table was full of vegetables, meats and fruit native to the Devildom, the result of experimentation as a cure to boredom, and he deeply hoped you could stay for dinner. He needed more testers other than Luke’s sweet tooth and Solomon’s destroyed palate.  

To his disappointment, the only thing you did when you entered the kitchen was wave goodbye.

“Gotta leave, Simeon! Enjoy dinner!”

“Wait! MC!”

You turned around, fighting to force your arm inside the jacket with your schoolbag tightly secured between your legs. You looked at him silently, embarrassed? Probably due to the unnecessary effort when gathering your things.

“Why don’t you stay for dinner? There’s more than enough for all of us”

You smiled back at him, suddenly bashful, before pointing at your bag.

“I have homework to do, blame your roommate”

He laughed and rolled his eyes, trying not to show his dissatisfaction at seeing you leaving once again, but he could try another time. Probably best to ask in advance, though.

“What did he ask you to do?”

His hands went back to the food, cleaning, cutting and slicing with carefulness, but his eyes were set on you. Simeon couldn’t help but feel anything other than delight when he noticed you leaving the bag on the floor and coming closer.

“It’s a love potion, he said it might come in handy in the future”

“Did he now?”

For what, he may wonder. He hoped you never felt the need to use it; your heart was more than enough to enchant anyone you encountered.

“He showed it to me once, too” he confessed, not really thinking through what he was saying “It smelled rather nice; although I suppose that’s its purpose…”

His mouth stayed open, unsure of what to say next, before finally closing with a snap. Simeon’s attention went back to the food once more, failing to see your uncertainty at his words.

“And what did you…?”

He raised his gaze when you stopped talking and your shy demeanour took him by surprise. Did something happen? Did he say something wrong? He was about to ask, worried at your silence, but you beat him to it.

“Forget it, it’s nothing. I’m going home, okay? I need to study”

“Stay safe, MC”

You nodded, then grabbed your bag again and left the kitchen. Barely a minute later he heard the front door open and close one final time.

Whatever happened? Everything seemed to be doing okay, although he did stop looking at you for a short moment. Did the love potion have something to do with it? Solomon better pray that wasn’t the case, otherwise he’d be learning a new method of teaching very soon.

Fortunately for the sorcerer, thinking about the love potion again made him remember what he smelled when he saw it for the first time. A faint scent of old books, like a memory, and a stronger coat of cinnamon, cocoa powder and whipped cream.

He had a great idea.

Maybe a couple of pastries would make you feel better! He’d need to notify Lucifer in advance so someone could hide the desserts from Beel until you were finished.

Or should he deliver them in person? Simeon couldn’t avoid imagining you opening your bedroom door, smile wide in your face upon seeing him and offering him to eat his baking together, like many times before.

He’d make sure to prepare your favourites; he knew them by memory.

.

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@hello-gloomy  @the-sassiest-toaster  @hero-nii-blog  @yourlocalyin  @elaemae  @eliciria  @darkflowerav  @zarakem  @yuuvis32  @anxious-chick  @commets-space  @deepestartisanhumanoidshark  @ourfinalisation

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

ex!Toji x Reader ~ Make You Better

sum: Your ex shows up on your doorstep one night, months after disappearing on you without a word. He’s also bleeding out from a stab wound.

feat: hurt/comfort (emotional & physical), tending wounds, drinking, apologies, protective!Toji // wc: 2717 // [ao3]

You’re jolted awake, nearly falling off the couch where you had passed out a few glasses of wine ago. Bleary eyes squint at the oven clock. 2am. There’s another knock on the door, hard and fast. Desperate. You think tiredly to yourself that nothing good ever happens after 2am, and prepare to be proven right as you slouch to the door and press agains the peephole.

The sight you’re met with sobers you like a slap to the face. You haven’t seen the man on your doorstep in six months, and tonight he looks like the most pathetic kind of stray cat, spiky black hair plastered to his forehead with lashes of rain. His strong form is bundled into a jacket, and his hands are pressed to his abdomen like he’s holding himself together. Toji Fushiguro.

You crack open the door and he straightens up quickly, teeth catching on his bottom lip as he bites back a groan. “Hey, doll. Sorry to bother ya so late.”

“Toji, what the hell? What are you doing here?”

“Mind if we talk inside? I’m not feelin’ too good.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on. I haven’t seen you since…” since he disappeared. You had had an argument one night, the same one you always had about his line of work, but when you woke up the next morning he was gone. Toji doesn’t finish your thought, just smiles weakly.

“That’s fair. Thing is, I got into a lil’ trouble and this was the only place I could think of to go. Just need a minute to clean myself up, and then-“ he sways on his feet, suddenly unstable.

“Toji?”

His next words are slurred and lost. He takes an unsteady step forward and his leg gives out, left knee hitting the concrete floor with a nasty crunch.

You leap forward on instinct, catching his broad shoulders with an impact that knocks the breath out of you. His head lolls onto your shoulder, and you see the whites of his eyes.

“Fucking hell.” You drag him inside with a litany of curses, just managing to prop him up on the floor against your couch. He’s out cold, his chest rising and falling unevenly, and you slump against the wall opposite him. Nothing to do but wait for him to wake up.

A few too many minutes have passed with just your thoughts for company, and you risk leaving him long enough to pour yourself a drink in the kitchen. The liquor burns your throat but steadies your hands, and it dulls the adrenaline in your veins.

You walk back to the living room and wave the bottle under Toji’s nose, figuring the piercing fumes might snap him out of it. Nothing. You stare into the neck of the bottle, wondering dimly if this could be the mother of all nightmares. Your deadbeat ex-boyfriend passing out on your doorstep in the middle of the night. It would certainly fit the bill.

The part of you that isn’t wallowing in liquor-soaked bitterness thinks that he must have come here, of all places, for a reason. Something out there scared him more than the thought of facing you. With a heavy sigh, you scoot closer to him and push open his jacket, examining his body for wounds. Even in unconsciousness, his scarred hands were wrapped protectively around his stomach. You gingerly pull them away, and fall back on your ass with a gasp.

Fushiguro is bleeding badly. The palms of his hands are stained with what’s already dried, fresh blood slicking your fingers where you’d touched his. His t-shirt is transparent where it’s stuck to his skin, the ragged edges of a puncture wound framing a raw, red hole.

Your body reacts faster than your mind, and before you process what you’re seeing you’ve pressed your hands back over the wound with as much pressure as you can muster. You need a dressing, need to make sure there’s nothing else in there, need to disinfect…

“Why the fuck would you pull it out, dumbass?” You’re mumbling, to yourself. It’s one of the first rules you learn if you’re going to run the risk of getting stabbed with something, come on…

“Wasn’t me, doll. Bastard took his knife back when he ran.” The gravelly voice startles you, and you shove down harder on the wound in surprise.

Toji moans in pain, sucking air in through gritted teeth that somehow still form a cocky smile. “Easy, doc. Don’t need you squeezin’ out the blood I got left.”

“Oh good, you’re awake.” You switch your hands with his, waiting to let go until you feel him put the same amount of pressure on. “Now can you tell me why you’re bleeding out in my living room?” You try to sound detached, even angry, but your voice wobbles and you know he catches it.

“Thanks for bringing me inside.” His voice is softer, almost embarrassed. “Didn’t mean to faint on ya.” You stay quiet, waiting for him to continue. He twists his neck until it cracks, and stares at the floor.

“Wasn’t really thinkin’ straight after I killed the guy that put the knife in me. Realized you were the closest place I knew, wasn’t sure I could go any further. I didn’t wanna bother you, doll. Honest.”

You don’t react to the confession of murder. The more shocking thing was that someone got close enough to Toji to stab him in the gut. It’s a plausible enough excuse, you suppose. And it’s hard to hold a grudge for a man who is currently dying on your carpet.

“Yeah, well. Don’t make a habit of it,” you say gruffly, standing to retrieve a first aid kit. “Let me find something to patch that hole.”

When you return with an armful of gauze you find Toji finishing off the rest of your liquor. He flashes a stupid grin at you, and you start to remember why you hate him.

“That was my last bottle, asshole.”

“Aw c’mon mama, it’s my last meal.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach at the old pet name. “In my dreams, Fushiguro. You’re gonna be fine.” You’re still not confident in that, but don’t bother letting him know. It’s not like it’ll matter if you’re wrong. Your assurance seems to loosen something in him though, and the show of bravado cracks with his voice.

“Yeah?” His broad shoulders slump. “That’s good.” He smiles up at you, eyes bright with the drink, his scar bunching at the corner of his lips. “Knew you’d fix me up.”

You hum as you start to cut away his bloody shirt. “Where the fuck is Shiu, huh? Isn’t your handler supposed to do the handling?”

Toji scoffs. “Don’t need him. He’s not happy with my attempt at an early retirement.”

“Not that early, is it old man?” You tease him mostly to distract him from what you’re doing, half-listening to his words, and thankfully he takes the bait.

“Hmm, you didn’t seem to think I was too old, babydoll. I thought you appreciated my experience.”

“Uh huh. Whatever you gotta tell yourself, pops.” You finish cutting the shirt open and slide it down his arms along with the jacket. “Can you get this off?”

He grunts and slips it off slowly, sweat beading on his forehead from the effort. It must hurt like hell, but he doesn’t complain. He sees you watching him and smirks. “Like what ya see?”

“Yeah, Fushiguro. I love a man with a good stab wound.” You won’t give him the satisfaction, but he does look good. His muscles are as defined as you remember them, unexpected hardness on the soft expanse of his body when he moves. He’s tense now, as one is after a near-death experience, and your mouth waters despite yourself at the familiar sight of him. Even injured like this, rain- and liquor-soaked, he’s beautiful.

He’s laughing softly, a pink smudge across his cheeks that isn’t just from drinking. “Did I leave ya speechless?” He relaxes a bit against the back of the couch now that he doesn’t have to move anymore, just the muscles of his forearms standing out as he holds his stomach together.

“Something like that. This is gonna hurt like a bitch, okay?” You take the inch of alcohol left in the bottle and pour it over his wound, biting your lip at his surprised cry.

“What the hell!” He pants, wide-eyed.

“Need to disinfect the wound,” you offer, without apology.

“Know damn well you could’ve been nicer about it,” he mumbles.

“You didn’t have to disappear on me.” The words are out of your mouth before you know it, before you can think of anything else to say, something that doesn’t make you sound like a vindictive, pathetic ex.

He blows out a breath. “Jeez, doll. I guess I deserved that.”

“I did need to disinfect it…”

He holds up one bloody hand to placate you, quickly returning it to his abdomen. “I know. You could have left me outside in the rain. Wouldn’t have been surprised, even.”

“I wouldn’t kill you over it Toji, damn.” You shook your head, angry at yourself for letting the conversation get here. “But why me? Seriously, you’re that mad at Shiu that you couldn’t have him take you to a fuckin’ hospital?”

Toji is quiet for a while before he responds, choosing his words with uncharacteristic care. “Shiu didn’t know about this job. I’ve been…freelancing. Something like that.”

You frown at him, trying to put the pieces together. “Freelancing how, exactly? You put an ad in the paper? Sexy hitman for hire?”

His mouth twists. “You think I’m sexy, mama?”

Fuck. Did you say that out loud? “Not the point, Fushiguro. What do you mean freelancing?”

He smirks, but lets it go. “I’m tryin’ to get out of the game. Turn over a new leaf. Go straight.”

He’s got to be joking. What he’s saying is unbelievable, but. When you look into his eyes, they’re serious. And you know he wouldn’t give enough of a shit to let himself get hurt this bad on a regular job.

“Why?” You’ve kept working on him as he talks, and finish applying the pressure dressing to his stomach. You wipe a wet cloth over his hands, smearing away the worst of the blood.

He’s quiet again, his pulse ticking in his clenched jaw as he watches you treat him. When you move your hands away from his, his fingers twitch like he wants to pull you back.

“Someone…informed me of the error of my ways.” His sharp canines flash as he smiles at you in the dim light. “Introduced me to an, alternative lifestyle. But I wasn’t too good at following the rules.”

“Toji…”

“Hush, doll. This confession’s been a long time coming. Don’t think I can keep goin’ if ya stop me now.” He looks longingly at the empty liquor bottle. “I understand why you were afraid for me, why my line of work was hurting you. It was selfish of me to want you, selfish to stay, when it was putting you in danger…” his breath hitches and he presses a hand to his stomach again with a pained smile. “Don’t think the blood loss makes this any easier.”

You move closer to him and cup his cheek in your hand, brushing your thumb over his rough skin. “I’m listening.” Your anger is ebbing away, replaced with something tender and fragile. You’ve never heard Fushiguro be this vulnerable, and you don’t want him to stop.

Toji’s eyes flutter closed as he leans into your touch. “Are ya gonna make me say it, doll?”

“Yeah, I am,” you murmur.

“I know I’m not what you deserve. But I’d give it all up to get just a little bit closer. Be a little bit better for you. I left because…” Toji trails off, and you feel the man tremble under your hand. “You were sleepin’ next to me, all innocent and beautiful, and I couldn’t…” he tries again. “I couldn’t let you tie yourself to a broken down old man like me.”

Toji opens his eyes and looks into yours. “Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But since then, I’ve done everything I could to be better, be someone worthy of you.” He shook his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “But it seems my colleagues don’t take kindly to someone gettin’ out of our line of work.”

Something like pity shows on your face, and Toji talks faster. “I wasn’t planning to come back so soon, I swear. I was gonna take you out someplace nice when I was clean, show you that I could live this life, that I’d changed and that I’d done it for you.”

He reaches up to hold your face, and his calloused palm is softer than you’ve ever felt it. You’re looking at his lips, remembering the heat of them on yours. “Toji, I…”

He pulls his hand away as you lean toward him, the narrowing space between you electrified. The shadows shift across your face as you come closer. Toji suddenly jerks away from you, a look of horror in his eyes as they fix on your cheek.

“Toji? Toji, what’s wrong?” Your voice comes out too high, frantic and defensive. The wine and liquor roil in your gut as nausea climbs up your throat.

He presses himself against the couch, and his voice sounds very far away. “Your face, doll.” He’s shrinking, making himself as small as possible, as if his touch would contaminate you.

You press shaking fingers to your cheek, staring dumbly at the blood that smears them when you pull away. “Toji?” You’ve said nothing but his name for the last minute, each iteration smaller and more confused.

His smile is icy, the soft warmth he had shown you doused completely. “You’ve got my blood on your face. S’like I said. I’ll ruin you.”

You wipe hard at your cheek, leaving it red and stinging. “It’s nothing, Toji. I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be! Fuck!” He tries to stand and you cry out, rushing to steady him, but he pushes you away. “This is what I mean!” You can’t tell if the shine in his eyes is from blood loss, liquor, or tears. Toji’s throat burns as he tries to keep you from guessing the latter.

“It’s the middle of the goddamn night and you’re holding my guts in while I bleed on your carpet. You let me in, hell you carried me in here after I collapsed on your doorstep like a pathetic little stray.”

He’s wobbling on his feet, but manages to keep you at arm’s length. “Someone could’ve followed me here. I could get you killed.” A strained laugh. “I’m a fucking curse, doll. I need to stay the hell away from you.”

A red stain is blossoming on his clean bandages, but he hasn’t noticed yet. “You don’t get to decide for me!” You cry, furious at his arrogance, desperate to keep him here until you know he’ll survive the night.

“What would you decide then, hm?” He points at himself. “This the prize you want? A beat-up old man who kills people for a living? Who comes home with blood on his hands? It’s not always mine, sweetheart.” He’s being mean and you both know it, the venom in his words meant only for himself.

“Maybe it is. So what if it is?” He lets you come closer, leans into your space, drinking in your look of defiance.

“That’s why I get to decide.” He’s pushing past you, heading for the front door, limping with every step. You don’t move to follow him. You press your lips together and curl your hands into fists, fighting to stay still as you watch him stumble, clutching at the wall. He staggers two more steps before he falls hard onto his knees.

You step up beside him, looking down with a sad smile. “I don’t think you’re leaving tonight, Fushiguro.”

He swears at you with his last breath before he loses consciousness.

[purplifield]

🪻👻| Sucker

Kinktober

Hobie x reader; oral (f receiving), praise, soft, drop of overstim if you really read into it

You were chilling in your room, dark, stormy ambience overtaking it and soft music playing in the background as you did your work for the day. Suddenly a knock came from a window behind you and you turned to see none other than Hobie. You stood up to let him in, noticing the fewer cuts on his face

“Hobie, how many times will I have to tell you not to involve yourself in fights?” You scoffed, closing the window after he climbed in the room, chuckling and not saying anything as he tools off his boots.

“Aye, ‘s a small price for victory. I beat them into the fuckin ground” Hobie assured and turned to you to give a small, bloody kiss on your forehead, which you wiped off quickly. You motioned him to sit, searching for the first aid kit. Now it was just everything you needed to patch him up, but still.

“Only face and knuckles?” You asked coming in front of him and took his chin to examine the little wounds. He nodded, thankfully and you began to disinfect it. He winced.

“Nurses usually are way more careful, y’know? Especially private ones like you.” He grumbled and closed his eyes. You frowned and sighed in frustration, mumbling something about not appreciating you enough. He smiled slightly “Still love you tho”

One cut after another, you were done with those 4 quickly, moving to bandage his hands. These days you could call yourself professional with the speed of your work.

“Done” you took your supplies and put them away in you drawer. You searched around your desk “Oh and probably since I’m a ‘nurse’, you should get a sucker for enduring pain. Only if I found it..”

Hobie laughed at your act and stayed on the bed. He reached out to you “I would appreciate something to suck on, yea”

You look at him with a raised brow, but in a swift manner, he sat you down on the bed, kneeling in between your legs “Sucker is right here”

“Hobie-“ you felt how he eagerly tugged on the waistband of your sweats AND panties. You propped yourself up on your elbows, lifting your hips a little with a grumble. The cold air hitting your pussy made you shiver, yet to your dismay you couldn’t close your legs.

“Fuck, been waiting for this long” he whispered, air he breathes out feeling on your heat. He kisses your inner thighs and looks up at your stare, a little bitchy smirk on his face.

Like it was established, he was eager. He made sure to kiss your thighs and acknowledge them, but the main point was your wet pussy. He leaned towards, his hands comings up and a digit of his collected your juice, teasing your hole. He knew your buttons.

He kissed your cunt few times before dragging a long strip across it, the finger entering slowly. He made sure to ease you in, since this whole ordeal happened very quickly. But with this he was teasing more himself than you. So after a minute or two his tongue started drawing letters you couldn’t make out. He was pretty good at it, gaining more experience every time he made you cum.

“Hobes” you whispered softly, your head leaning back and eyes closed. He hummed against your cunt, the vibration making you squirm a bit, but he hugged your thigh and held it in place as he continued. He sucked on it softly, kissing the top afterwards. And it went for a long time, just you two in that position, you moaning at his tongue. Somewhere between there he entered a second finger but didn’t change his pace; he focused on working with his tongue rather than his fingers so his hands was moving quite slow.

But the buildup was there. You felt the little sensation in your stomach, trying to spread through your whole body but you held it for a bit, he knew you were close by hearing your breath hitch at any sudden move he did.

The moment it crashed upon you, you let out a whine and held your thighs together squeezing them a bit and holding him in place, the muscles weakening within a minute and he lifted himself with a smirk

“This nurse right here has some booomb suckers”

[pholla-jm]

The Right Treatment

IMAGINE: THE RIGHT TREATMENT~ LAW X READER GENRE: FLUFF WARNINGS: MENTION OF BLOOD, MEDICAL USE, AND CURSING. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of your crew mate’s laughter rang in your ears as all of you walked back to the Polar Tang. “That was a close one!” You hear Penguin shout and the other agree with him. “Woo! I really thought that marine got you there for a second there (y/n)!” Shachi says while giving your back a harsh slap. The simple action caused you to stumble a little bit and you had to hold back the grimace.

Instead, you laughed right along with Shachi, “as if!

Your captain eyed you from the other side of the ship. He knew something was up. He had two reasons to assume something was wrong with you. The first reason was you were covered in a sheen layer of sweat, but you could brush that off as it is hot. The second reason is that you were that ‘ugly’ boiler suit the correct way. Usually, you would have the top half tied around your waist claiming that ‘I have to make something fashionable’.

But no, this time the suit was all the way zipped up. He knew you were hiding something. After a couple of more laughter and jokes about the ‘strong marines’ thrown around, you quickly dismissed yourself. Claiming that you wanted to clean yourself up before you smelt.

Technically you were going to clean yourself up. As soon as you enter your room, you let your composure loose. Letting out a soft sigh of pain, you made your way to the bathroom. You were happy that you got your own room. Slipping off the boiler suit, you threw it to the corner of the bathroom, making a mental note to clean it later. You then slipped off the black tank top only leaving you in your undergarments.

You clicked your tongue as the gash among your side was revealed. The extra movement causes a fresh trickle of blood to leak out of the wound. You quickly grab a washcloth to compress the wound. While you held it there, you grabbed all the tools you would need to fix yourself.

Once you gathered everything you needed, you removed the cloth. Happy that it stopped the bleeding. You grabbed another washcloth, making sure this one was damp. You cleaned up the area so you could see what you were working with.

“Ugh.” You mutter as you look at the semi-deep wound, “I think butterfly stitches will do.” You grab the disinfectant, unaware of what was going on the other side of your door.

Law had eyed you as soon as you left the small group. He knew something was up, but he decided to give you a few minutes so he could catch you in the act. With an annoyed sigh, he also dismisses himself from the group. To which the crew pay no mind, seeing that they were used to this. The walk to your room wasn’t long. When he reached the metal door, he leaned closer trying to see if he could hear anything. The only thing that could be heard was some slight movement here and there.

The sudden thought entered his mind. What if you were naked? He didn’t want to seem like a pervert. But he also wanted to see if his assumption was right. He decided to play it on the safe side and knock lightly on your door.

You didn’t respond. He took it as a sign for him to walk in anyway. When he opened the door, he took note that the light wasn’t on. The only source of light came from your bathroom, which was wide open. He walked towards the bathroom, eyes going wide at the sight in front of him.

There you were, only in undergarments as you strained to wrap your torso.

“What the hell are you doing?” Law’s voice cut through the silence.

The sudden voice caused you to jump slightly and turn to see your Captain. You blinked a couple times, trying to process the situation. When it finally clicked you let out a little shriek, trying to cover up by crossing your legs and arms. The sudden movement caused you to flinch in pain- hoping that the gash didn’t leak.

“What the fuck? Don’t you know how to knock?” “I did knock. You didn’t answer. I was worried something was wrong… and it looks like I was right.” He says while eyeing the gauze you wrapped around your stomach. You scoff at his words, “well. I took care of it. Problem solved.” “Last time I checked, you’re not a doctor.”

You didn’t even have time to get out your next words because Law had ‘Room and Shambles’ the both of you back to his medic bay. The cold air in the room, immediately made you tense, and you hug yourself tighter trying to savor any warmth.

“Lay down.”

From the tone of his voice, you could tell that he was annoyed. With a sigh, you lay on the medic bed. Hoping that it will provide some warmth. It did not.

You didn’t both looking over to see what Law was doing. But the next thing you knew, you felt a blanket drape over your lower half. “Thank you.” You softly mutter and just stare at the ceiling.

You hear snipping of scissors and your felt the gauze become loose around your torso. You heard a sigh from Law. “What’s wrong?” You ask. “Did you really think butterfly stitches were going hold this together?” He asks. You could tell in his tone that he was annoyed, and it started to feel worse about this situation. “You should’ve just come to me in the first place.” “I’m sorry… I didn’t want to be a burden” “If you didn’t want to be a burden, you should have gotten it treated right!”

The sudden snap caused you to shut your mouth. You didn’t want to argue with him. And honestly, you hated it when he yelled at you. So, you sat there with a small pout on your face as he continued to work on your gash. Law didn’t miss this. Seeing your expression tugged on his heart strings and he almost felt bad for making you feel this way. But in his defense, it was your fault. In his mind, if you went to him first then he wouldn’t have snapped at you.

“At least you disinfected it. You did something right.” He continues to talk, hoping that it would uplift your mood. “When a cut is at least a half inch deep, then you need stitches. This cut is almost an inch deep.”

“I don’t like needles.” Is all you say causing the man to roll his eyes. “You’re not scared of knifes and swords, but you’re scared of needles.” “Yes,” you answered like it made complete sense.

Another sigh came from Law making you think ‘Law sure sighs a lot’. “I’m going to numb the area.” He says and you hear him rummage around a bit.

You take a glance at the needle, immediately grimacing at the thought of that piercing your skin.

Law notices this and takes ahold of one of your hands. “It’ll be okay. You’re just gonna feel a slight pinch.”

You didn’t respond, just turned your head so you wouldn’t have to look at the needle. You felt Law squeeze your hand a little, followed by a slight pinch- just like he said. You let out a small whine, a shiver going up your spine at the feeling. You really hated needles…

“It’s okay, darling. The hard part is over.”

Law released your hand so that he could start working on your stitches.

You were glad he numbed the area because you were sure you would have cried at the feeling of needle piercing your skin over and over. You didn’t look over what he was doing because you knew you would’ve freaked out.

While Law was working on the stitches you started thinking about Law’s last sentence. He called you darling. And the way that he was holding your hand. If you weren’t in pain, you probably would have teased him for being so mushy with you. However, you liked it at this moment. It was a side of Law you have never seen, and you definitely wanted to see more of it.

“Okay, (y/n)-ya. All done.” You hear Law say and you finally look over. The wound was finally closed- held together by neat black stitches. Definitely a better job than what you did.

It was silent between you for a few moments, until Law spoke up again. You could tell he was feeling a bit awkward, but you didn’t mind.

“I just want to tell you that you’re never a burden (y/n)-ya. If there’s anything that you ever need, just come to me, okay? I promise you; you could never bother me.” “Thank you, Captain.” You whisper with a slight blush on your face. You never knew that Law could be so kind. You were too worried about your own blush that you didn’t notice the slight red tinge on Law’s ears. “When it’s just us, you can call me Law.” Your eyes widen at his words, “okay... Law.” His name felt weird coming out of your mouth. But it was something that you could get used to.

Law’s lips upturned a little. “Get some rest. I’ll grab you an extra pair of clothes.” He says as he walks out of the medical bay. You just nod your head at him and grabbed the blanket to cover yourself up properly.

As soon as the metal door closed, Law put his hand on his chest. Feeling his racing heart. “What a nuisance.” He mutters to himself.

He wondered to himself; just what was he going to do about these pesky feelings?

[cringe-but-proud]

Would you do a 1610 miles morales request where he and the reader became close at visions and she figures out he’s Spider-Man so he tends to go to hers when needing comfort/help so one night after patching him up, they end up sharing a bed cause he’s too hurt to go home and they’re both flustered and cute cause they clearly like each other?

Yurrrrrr

Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

Warnings: light swearing, mentions of pain/injury, reader and miles share a bed (NOTHING SPICY 😑)

A/n: First non-second person POV fic on here. As always, my requests are open 🥳

Tonight had been pretty rough for Miles. He had gotten in a pretty bad fight with some guys that were trying to rob a jewelry store. He had stopped them, which was good, but his entire body felt sore.

So, like always, he made his way over to her apartment.

This had become a sort of regular thing for him to do. His best friend, Y/n, was one of the only people who knew about his secret identity, and so, he went to her whenever he was in need of some quick first aid.

Miles swung over to the familiar apartment building and knocked on her bedroom window.

After a short moment, Y/n opened the window for him. She scanned his disheveled state while helping him climb through the window. "Wow, you look like shit." She commented.

"Thanks. Good to see you too." Miles replied as he pulled his mask off and let it fall to the ground.

She laid a towel on her bed before he sat down (Y/n was very serious about Miles not getting blood on her sheets) and grabbed the first aid kit that she kept in her room.

"Rough night?" She asked as she got out some of the medical supplies she'd be using.

"Yeah. I'm alright though."

She began disinfecting the wound and a comfortable silence fell over them. Miles always liked coming over to her place. Even though he was almost always injured or hurt when he came over. He liked how cozy her room was, he liked that she always had music playing, and he liked that she was always too focused on patching him up to notice him staring at her.

After about 30 minutes of tending to his wounds, she finished with a relieved sigh. "You're lucky I like you, dude. If anyone else asked me to do something like this I'd tell them to never talk to me again."

Miles chuckled and looked down at the floor. "Uh... Thanks?" He tried standing up, but winced.

"You alright?" Y/n asked, looking back at Miles as she put away the first aid kit.

"Yeah... Just a little sore." He said as he sat back down on her bed.

"You gonna be able to make it back home?'

Miles thought about it for a moment. He didn't think he had the strength to swing or even walk home right now. "Uh..."

"If you need to you can stay the night." She tells him

"Really?"

"Of course, man." She smiled softly. "It's not a big deal."

To Miles it was a big deal. Staying over at his crush's house? Huge deal.

But, he had to play it cool.

"Uh... Yeah, alright." He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant about the whole thing.

Y/n had given him some of her oversized clothes for him to sleep in.

There was a brief argument over the sleeping situation (Miles didn't want to kick Y/n out of her own room, but Y/n wasn't gonna make an injured Miles sleep on the couch) they decided to just share the bed.

No big deal. Two friends sharing a bed. Totally normal. No big deal.

Miles settled into her bed, back turned to her as he stared at the wall.

The two of you exchanged a brief 'good night' and then it was silent.

Miles was wide awake. The position he was laying in was uncomfortable, but he didn't dare move. The minutes passed by like hours and he wanted to look at the time, but he couldn't wake her up.

Little did he know, Y/n was feeling the exact same way. Wide awake, unable to move, and unable to speak.

Somehow, against all odds, after what was probably at least 2 hours of still, dead silence, they both managed to fall asleep.

If they thought falling asleep next to each other was awkward, then the dilemma of waking up cuddling each other was going to be absolutely unbearable.

[faghubby]

punished

Vicky, my wife of ten years and mother of my two children. opened the door to see me bent over the dining room table as a large black man drove his long thick cock in my ass.

"What is going on here!" She yelled. I tried to get up. But Marcus just pushed me back down into the table and pounded away on my little faggot ass.

"Be done with the cunt in a minute" he told Vicky. Vicky was stunned just stood there watching.

"Vic" I said only to be smacked hand across the ass

"Shut the fuck up bitch" Marcus told me. I didn't dare say another word. Marcus stiffened and grunted as he shoved the full length of his cock in my ass. Pumping his load deep. He pulled out and pulled up his pants.

"All yours" he told Vicky as he let himself out. I stood up my legs tied to the table legs. I was wearing a red bra and stockings. Along with three inch heels. I tried to bend to untie my legs but fell on the floor.

"What the fuck?!" Vicky screamed. "You fucking gay bitch" she looked around evennmore confused by the scene. There was a paddle and two leather belts, along with a bottle of lube and bandage gear. That with me naked on the floor, trying to untie my legs as I babbled about it being a one time thing.

"Shut up" she said disgusted half laughing. She kicked my hand lightly. "Stop that and get up" she ordered me. I tried to stand finally pulling myself up.

"You let men fuck you? spank you?" She held a belt. "Not even sure" she started holding a big 2 inch diameter butt plug. It was still covered in lube. She pushed me down back over the table. She pushed the toy against my ass that was now leaking Marcus cum. My ass sucked it right in.

"Wow" she commented. As I ler out a little wimper. She then walked around the table.

"Don't you dare move" she warned me.

"Vicky I can" I started

"Shut up" she screamed she grabbed a set of leather cuffs and hooked my wrist to one of the legs. Then used another set to hook the other. I could lift myself some but not much. She found the matching panties to the bra I was wearing.

"Open up" she told me and shoved them in my mouth. I don't even think she realized how much she was turning me on. She turned off the light and left. I heard the door close and the car leave. Was she leaving me here for good. Hoping someone else found me. I struggled to get free. But it was a very sturdy table. I was stuck. I cried myself to sleep. What had I done.

It was hours before I head the garage door opening. It woke me up in the silence. Vicky came in obviously had been drinking. I had spit the panties out of my mouth hours ago.

"Still waiting for me cunt" she laughed. I so needed to pee.

"Please Vicky I need to pee" I pleaded. She laughed and looked down at my cock.

"What is this?" She asked grabbing the metal cage and yanking. I screamed.

"Marcus doesn't like to see me get an erection" I wimpered. "So this stops you from getting hard!" She laughed. She let it smack into the table making me groan again. I was about to burst.

"Where the key?" She asked.

"On my dresser" she unhooked one hand then left. I quickly undid my other hand but Marcus nots on the robe on my legs was tight. I struggled getting only one unlocked before I actually peed on the floor.

"You are disgusting" Vicky told me as she returned. "I want this all cleaned up now" she screamed then returned to the bedroom. It was late but I did as she had said and cleaned everything. Scrubbing the floor with disinfectant. I took a shower and removed the plug my ass gapped open after wearing the plug for hours. Only then did I try and go into the bedroom it was locked. I didn't even knock just went and crashed in the guest room. I slept naked not having any clothes but the bra and panties.

I was up before Vicky, actually she didn't emerge from our bedroom till noon. She loomed horribly hung over. I had done some laundry so at least was able to get dressed.

"Can I get you something" I asked. She glared at me then said. There is a mess in the bedroom" I got up and found she had thrown up in the trash can. Looks like most missed. She had also got it on the bed. I cleaned up the floor, took the trash can outside. Then stripped the bed. I had scrubbed the floor and remade the bed by the time. Vicky came back in, only a towel wrapped around her. She had a bruise on her shoulder.

"Are you okay did you fall?" I asked. She glanced at her shoulder. Then smiled.

"No he just liked to bite" she told me getting into bed naked. I noticed another mark on her thigh.

"Bite?" I asked

"Yes, big guy was kinda forceful. A biter, I guess everyone has a kink don't they?" She said glaring at me. I just let her go back to sleep. When I went to check on her a few hours later the door was locked again. I desperately wanted to ask her for the key to my chastity cage but didn't think it was the time.

I let her be, she had cheated on me I guess I deserved that. But what did this mean for us. She emerged from the room again about dinner time. I had made pasta. She devoured a bowl. And then went back to bed with two bottles of water. I heard her lock the door. She didn't emerge until the next morning and then rushed out the door for work with barely a word. No option I wore the chastity cage to work.

When I got home Vicky was home, she normally was home before me so this was normal. I found a garage bag by the door and without thought I threw it away. I found Vicky in the bathroom folding laundry.

"Vicky can I have the key to the chastity cage" I asked just wanting it off I had never worn it this long.

"Why? You don't need it anymore" Vicky said confused.

"What?" I stuttered

"Well your lover obviously doesn't use it for anything, and I certainly an not going to be using it again. So why?" Vicky asked again looking at me. "I may have use of that tounge from time to time but that's it" Vicky added.

"Vick!" I wimpered.

"What you can't expect me to see you as a man after the other night can you?" She asked. "Come here" she patted the bed.

I sat next to her.

"I got rid of all your boy undies too, I mean you like wearing girlie things right?" She said her hand cupping my face.

"I slept with Greg" she confessed. Greg was my best friend he would never.

"Greg wouldn't" I started.

"When I showed him the pics of you getting fucked by your boyfriend he understood why I needed a man. I didn't know he liked to bite though" Vicky explained. "Here put these away" she handed me a pile of bras and panties. I headed towards her dresser.

"Silly those are yours" Vicky told me. I looked down and realized she was serious and placed them in my empty underwear drawer.

"I would like to meet your lover, what is his name?" Vicky continued

"Marcus" I said softly

"He has a big cock, is he gay. I mean does he fuck woman as well?' Vicky asked.

"I don't think so" I told her. In kind of a trance. Was this all happening?

she took my phone and called Marcus.

"Hello whore" he answered the phone with.

"This is the whore's wife Vicky "she told him.

"You want me to stop fucking the slut?" He asked with a chuckle.

"No, not at all. He seemed to enjoy it "she told him. "I think he like it if you fucked him even more" I listened as the two of them started to make decisions and a schedule of my life. I tried twice to interrupt but was silenced before I could speak.

Vicky gave up any marital rights, giving them over to Marcus. She promised to make me more femine for him as well. I found myself meeting Marcus two to three times a week. Vicky had hired a contractor to build a bedroom and bathroom in the basement. It even had its own entrance. As soon as it was done I moved into it. She had designed the room with hidden anchor points, the room was also done in pink and light blue colors. And the closet full of woman's clothes in my size. Marcus could come and go privately. Vicky didn't hide that I was a sissy fag. And openly slept with other men.

Marcus even started taking me put as his little sissy bitch in public. Even making me service some of his friends. We have been married for 15 more years. Where I don't think I have seen Vicky naked in all that time. We have both gone thru several lovers.

[reve-writes]

—inked; kaz brekker.

ʚ kaz brekker x reader | grishaverse | 1k words. ʚ reader is a tattoo artist, kaz brekker needs a tattoo. there's a lot of yearning involved. ʚ non-descriptive needle and tattoo stuff; slight angst. ʚ a/n you can tell i don't know how tattoos work.

Kaz Brekker should stop trying to find a reason to knock on your door. He should step back, tilt his head down and walk away as if he was never there in the first place. It was becoming a habit and habits meant comfort and comfort usually became root for something more—something that someone like him couldn't grow beyond a sprout when you deserved the whole forest.

Yet he stayed stubbornly at your door.

He was a selfish man in that regard.

He could hear you shuffling behind the door and then the rattle of your keys, followed by a soft click of your door being unlocked. You pulled the door open a smidge.

“Kaz!”

He wished you didn't sound so happy to see him. Then, he wouldn't feel welcomed to come back the next time and the next time and the next. He didn't want to make a habit out of it, but he was here yesterday and four days ago and a week ago. He had a feeling that he would be here in the near future as well.

Your door swung open immediately. You were wearing casual clothes, comfortable for sleeping, instead of your usual coats and leathers. It was a welcome change. It made his visits feel more personalised, like he was the only one to see you as you were and not as you wanted him to.

“What brings you here tonight?” you asked, already leading him to sit on the upholstered couch in your room. It used to be your bed, before you saved enough for a real one. Now, it nestled itself in one corner of your room for rare visitors. The only one who ever came by your rented room in Ketterdam was Kaz lately.

“I want to get a tattoo.”

His eyes wandered to your walls, littered with inked drawings of past tattoo designs you had done. You worked at a tattoo parlour that fell in the Dregs' territory. Many of the new members had their tattoos done at your workplace. You had even inked a few of them yourself.

“The shop opens in a couple of hours,” you said. “We can wait—”

“Not at the shop, if you can,” he interrupted. He didn't think he could bear having other people in the same room. He didn't think he wanted someone else to potentially do it as well. He came to you because he trusted you. He had spent too many nights awaiting dawn with you. He had told you too many secrets he shouldn't have. You had told him things about yourself that you probably shouldn't. He came to you when nothing went right. He came to you when everything went the way it should. You waited for him after a good day. You still waited even after a bad day.

It was a strange dynamic.

It should feel like he was skeeting over the edge of a chasm, but it felt more like the gentle hum of his room at the Slat. Steady, familiar four walls that served as a respite from the debauchery of the Barrell.

“Of course,” you agreed. It took you less than five minutes to gather everything you needed. Fortunately, you had gone on a supply run for the shop earlier. You were planning to bring everything to the shop when it opened, but you'd be needing them earlier than you thought.

“You're putting a lot of trust in me,” you joked. “I could write 'Ketterdam's biggest loser' on your arm.”

“It would suit you better than me.”

You chuckled. He thought it would sound good on vinyl. He could listen to it for hours.

“Rule one, Brekker. Never insult the person who's putting permanent ink on you.” You shot him a glare, but you were smiling. It was inexplicably easy to smile around him. “What are you thinking?”

“The Dregs tattoo, on my arm.” He rolled his sleeves and your heart was beating twice as fast. Unbeknownst to you, his was as well. He had never bared a part of himself so casually before. You had never seen him without all his layers—all the protection over his skin.

Your machine whirred to life. You disinfected his skin with a couple swipes of a disinfectant pad. His whole body tensed when you made contact, despite your gloves.

“Hey, Kaz.” You pulled his attention away from where you'd touched him. “I won't hurt you.”

You held out your gloved palm. With your free hand, you took his gloved hand and set it gently over your palm. He inhaled sharply.

“It's okay. It's just me.”

He trailed a finger softly over your palm. There was a barrier between your skins, but it was daunting all the same. He took a couple of deep, spaced breaths with closed eyes. When he opened them, you were smiling encouragingly at him.

“You can start,” he said, but almost immediately regretted it when you pulled your hands away.

“There will be slight pain,” you said over the whirring of your machine.

He scoffed. “I know pain better than—”

He cursed, inhaling sharply when first contact broke his skin.

You rolled your eyes. “I warned you, Brekker.”

Stray hairs fell over his forehead. “I was startled.”

His eyes were tracing the lines of your face as you worked. The proximity started to feel somewhat comfortable, with the lull of your tattoo machine. You occasionally hummed as you worked. He etched the sound into his mind. You weren't a singer, but he preferred your voice over any performers.

“Done!” you suddenly proclaimed. He looked away and cleared his throat. “What do you think?”

The crow and cup over his right forearm. A permanent mark that he was Dirtyhands of the Dregs. No deed too low for him as long as there was enough Kruge involved. Was that all who he really was?

“Can you add another? A small one,” he rasped.

“Certainly, Kaz. What is it?”

“The letter R, here,” he pointed at his bicep. “For the boy I was. For my brother.”

“I wish I could've met him, you know. Jordie.”

Kaz wished so, too. A foolish wish. Ketterdam didn't groom him to be a wishful thinker. Hope was a dangerous, dangerous thing. He should leave.

“Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry if I overstepped.”

Kaz's eyes widened. “No. You're okay.”

It was him.

“Then stop looking like you're ready to bolt anytime, Kaz. I happen to appreciate your company.”

“Oh.”

He let hope force its way in and make a nest in his chest anyway.

[ ]

[darl-ingfics]

Sicktember Day 12: "You're not fine, you're throwing up."

Fandom: ATEEZ

Sickie: Yunho (stomach bug)

Caregiver(s): Jongho, with some Hongjoong

Word Count: 912

Jongho woke up to a sound he wasn't able to identify. He rolled over, hitting his phone screen. 7:30am. He sat up, frowning as his brain attempted to make sense to what he was hearing. That’s when it hit him: the distinct sound of gagging over the roar of the shower. 

Jongho was up and outside the bathroom door in seconds.

“Hyung?!” Jongho knocked. The only response was another gag. The youngest member pushed open the door, crossed the room in two steps, and ripped back the curtain. Yunho was on his knees, at the mercy of his body, throwing up in the shower. “Oh, hyung,” Jongho muttered. He reached over and turned off the water.

“Nooo.” Yunho reached a hand up towards the tap before he was cut off with a violent cough that turned into more retching. Jongho knelt on the floor outside the shower, rubbing at Yunho’s spine as he coughed up another wave of sick. 

“It’s okay,” the younger man soothed quietly. 

After a second, unproductive cough, Yunho sat back on his heels, scrubbing at his face. “Water was helping.”

“Helping with what, exactly?”

“Cleaning…” 

“That’s the last thing you should be worried about right now, hyung.” Jongho’s hand hadn’t left Yunho’s back, massaging up and down his spine. He felt the dancer’s body contract once, twice, before he was leaning over again, at the mercy of his stomach, but bringing up nothing. 

“This sucks,” Yunho whined.

“I know, I know. How long have you…?”

“I don’t know. What time is it?”

Jongho consulted his watch. “7:36.”

“Then I’ve probably been here for about fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes?!”

Yunho waved his hand. “Not… not the throwing up part. I came to take a shower fifteen minutes ago, got sick maybe… God, I don’t even know.”

“Well, at least it wasn’t fifteen minutes cause that would be a problem.” Yunho smirked at that. He closed his eyes, appreciating the feeling of Jongho’s hand on his back. The cold air hitting his wet skin, though, was less welcome, sending shivers through his body. “We should get you out of the shower.” 

“Okay.” Yunho didn’t move. Jongho squeezed his shoulder before standing up himself. He offered his hands out to the older man, carefully pulling Yunho to his feet. It was then that Jongho noticed that that dancer still had his boxers on. “Hyung, why were you wearing your underwear in the shower?” 

Yunho shrugged. “In case I passed out.”

Jongho blinked at him. “So you knew you weren’t feeling good, and you got into the shower? The most dangerous place to slip and fall?”

Yunho shrugged again. “I thought the water would feel good.”

“Did it?”

Yunho nodded. “Until I threw up, it was heavenly.”

Jongho nodded, restraining himself from sighing as he helped Yunho out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around the older man’s shoulders. “Think you can make it to your room to change, or do you want me to go grab you clothes?”

“I can make it,” Yunho replied, curling deeper into his towel. “I actually feel a lot better. Puke and rally, right?”

“Sure, hyung.” Jongho rolled his eyes as soon as Yunho moved past him and through the doorway. He would see to it that there would be no rallying for Yunho; Jongho could feel his fever plain as day while they sat in the shower. 

Still, there was work to be done. Jongho texted the group: no one use the upstairs shower for a bit. He then peeked under the sink to see what cleaning supplies were currently on hand. He didn’t find what he wanted, and resolved to simply turn the water back on and wash the shower out first, then go back with the disinfectant later. 

Hongjoong appeared a moment later. “What happened?” 

“Yunho threw up in the shower, so I want to clean it before anyone else uses it.” 

“Is he okay?” 

Jongho shrugged. “Definitely feverish. He should not be practicing today.”

Hongjoong nodded, pausing as Yunho rounded the corner from his room, dressed in his dance clothes.  

“What the…?” Hongjoong shook his head. “Yunho, what are you doing?” Jongho peeked his head into the doorway. 

Yunho shrugged. “We’re going to dance.”

“No. We’re going to dance. You’re going to bed,” Hongjoong relied. 

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, you’re throwing up,” Jongho insisted. 

“No, I threw up. Past tense. I’m good now.”

“That’s not how it works, and you know that,” the leader explained, moving forward to place his hand against Yunho’s forehead. “You have a fever, bud. That means no practice for you.” Yunho whined, shoulders slumping forward. “I know, I get it, but you know the rules.”

“But I wanna dance,” Yunho said in reply, attempting to hit Hongjoong with his most convincing puppy eyes. 

“And you’ll be able to dance a lot better sooner if you take today to rest your body,” the leader insisted, patting Yunho’s shoulder affectionately. “Besides, no one wants to see you puke in the middle of the practice room.”

Yunho gasped. “I would never!”

“Well let’s not tempt fate, shall we? Bed.” Hongjoong pointed towards the room, and Yunho shuffled off, all the fight leaving him. Hongjoong sighed. “In your professional opinion, Jongho, should he be left alone?”

“Probably not,” the youngest chuckled. “I don’t mind staying with him.” 

“You’re the hero we need.” Hongjoong cuffed Jongho’s shoulder before walking away to notify their manager of Yunho’s upcoming absence. 

[throneofsapphics]

Hey hey, as someone who also speaks fluent angst, I was hoping to make a request?

Reader is injured and tries to hide how bad it is?

Could work for any character soo you choose! I do love your poly fics though 🥺🥺🥺

THANK YOU!!

knocking on death's door

poly!Manorian x Reader

Summary: You knew you weren’t dying, but by the looks of it everyone else seemed to think so.  

Warnings: major injury, descriptions injuries/mention of blood, angst-ish

Word Count: ~1.7k 

A/N: ah thank you! I love this request, thank you for sending it! honestly I love writing poly fics. also anyone if you hit your head please go to a doctor 

You took a small tumble down the stairs. You’d been injured worse before, but knew you likely had a concussion and would have some intense bruises on your back and legs. You could already feel the giant one blooming on your upper thigh, and felt the ache in your lower back. But, a good salve and a discreet healer could fix a majority of problems. 

The only problem that might come your way is Manon and Dorian. Both of them have the tendency to be fussy. The last thing you wanted was to be on bedrest for a week. 

You crept down towards the healing rooms, taking a few servants' passageways, and peering through the door. Just your luck, the only healer you trust not to report to them, a close friend of yours, wasn’t present, and you decided to go back tomorrow - right after they left. 

-

Manon and Dorian weren’t in your shared rooms and wouldn’t be back until later. They had a plethora of negotiations and meetings today and the next few days. A part of you did feel guilty hiding this from them, but they already had a lot going on - you didn’t want to add any extra stressors. 

You slipped into the bathroom for a quick shower, washing off the blood from a few cuts, and snatching some of the salve and a pain tonic you kept in stock. With that, hopefully the bruises will fade in a few hours, and the headache should disappear. The small scrape on your palm … that you’ll just have to wait out, but it’s easily explainable. They know you can be clumsy sometimes. 

You fell asleep on the couch quickly after. 

-

Manon scented something was off as soon as she entered the rooms - blood. She stalked right for your side, one arm dangled over the edge of the couch, the other curled under your pillow. You were sound asleep, your breaths deep and steady, and only mumbling as she carefully lifted your arm, turning it gently to see a small scrape on your palm. Falling. Again. You were so clumsy it worried her sometimes. She called your name, quietly at first. Poking you when you didn’t wake. Your eyes fluttered open, blinking heavily once you saw her. 

“Falling, again?” She raised her brow, looking at the slightly guilty smile on your face. “You need to be more careful.” She exhaled sharply, going to find something to bandage it with, and disinfect it. 

“I already took care of it,” you called after her, but she ignored you. Dorian came back shortly after, frowning at Manon wrapping a small piece of cloth over your hand. “It’s over kill,” you insisted, but one sharp look and your mouth snapped shut. 

“Did you hurt anything else?” 

“No,” you sighed, rolling back to shove your head into the pillow. Manon was a bit suspicious but … she knows you get annoyed when she fusses, and left it for now. 

-

The three of you collapsed into bed, all tired, and a slightly longer than usual nightgown hid the bruises. Your head still ached, but you took another tonic to fight that off. Apparently their day had been incredibly exhausting because they didn’t question anything too much, and the three of you fell into a deep sleep within minutes. 

-

Dorian rose first the next morning, smiling at the sight of you and Manon curled up together. Your nightgown bunched slightly at the side but … purple, he caught a sliver of purple skin. Carefully, he pulled down the blanket some more, shifting your clothing as well. A giant purple bruise bloomed on the side. 

He called your name, but you didn’t wake - he woke Manon, however, who spotted the bruise as well. 

“Y/n.” She called this time. Nothing. He shook your shoulder slightly, and you still didn’t stir. 

A quick scan with his magic showed some kind of swelling in your brain. That’s beyond anything he could handle. He scooped you in his arms, darting out the door as quickly as possible, not caring he was only wearing a pair of long sleeping pants, and sprinted for the healing rooms, carefully cradling your head against his shoulder. Manon caught up to him quickly, thankfully having thrown some clothes on, and asking questions but he couldn’t answer - his only focus was getting you there, as fast as he could. 

-

It took most of Dorian’s self restraint to keep both him and Manon from interrupting the healers working on you. 

“She said she didn’t hurt anything else.” Manon’s voice was barely above a whisper, her hand clutching onto his arms, nails digging in slightly. Maybe it would’ve hurt, but he was too focused on the scene in front of him to notice. 

You can be a bit clumsy, and Dorian knows that - it’s not unusual for you to come in with some sort of scrape or bruise once in a while but … neither of them asked what happened this time. The day had been long, and they’d been tired. Guilt ripped through him. And you’d lied too - to Manon, saying nothing else was injured, then a dark bruise on your leg and back, and somehow you’d hit your head. 

He felt his magic starting to bubble underneath his skin. One of the healer’s noticed as well and turned sharply to them. “We’re taking care of her. Both of you out.” 

-

Manon’s eyes narrowed at the woman ordering them out of the room, but her face was firm, no-nonsense, and unyielding. Dorian pushed her back gently, and she left, somehow without snarling or hissing at any of the healers. They found a small bench no less than 20 feet from the door, and waited. She leaned her head against his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her. The warmth provided an anchor, kept Manon from spiraling too deep into her thoughts. But she can’t help thinking she should’ve checked, she should’ve pushed further. Dorian’s absolute panic had filled her with dread. He always seems to keep his head, always calm. 

-

You knew you weren’t dying, but by the looks of it everyone else seemed to think so. 

It was strange, seeming to float outside of your body - watching everyone move around you. You were in and out of this semi-conscious state for days, watching as healers would fuss over you - take your temperature, check your heart rate and breathing, scan for any additional injuries. Swelling in her brain, you heard once - and winced. 

The worst part was watching Manon and Dorian. They were pale, their eyes lined with worry, and the bags under their eyes were heavy enough it looks like they might have punched each other. You were never alone, one of them was always there unless the healers kicked them out. Either holding your hand, or sitting next to you. 

Once, when Manon wasn’t present, Dorian brought a book. Your favorite, and read outloud to you - his eyes darting over to your face with every other line. All you wanted was to reach out, to grab his hand, touch him and let him know you’re okay, but you couldn’t. Your body was stuck there, limp and pale. 

You’d never felt this kind of hopelessness before. Knowing your loved ones are in pain and only able to watch them suffer, not give a comforting squeeze, word, or even blink. 

Five days passed, and you were back in your rooms. 

At dawn, on the seventh morning, Manon laid next to you, curled on her side, eyes closed, but you could tell she was awake. Dorian was awkwardly spread over a chair, his chest falling and rising in even breaths. Asleep. You watched as tears dripped down Manon’s cheeks. Not once had you seen her cry. She didn’t say a word, no sobs leaving her chest, but the silent tears broke something in you.

You blinked, and you were back in your body. You stayed perfectly still, trying to figure out if this was real or not. Slowly, you opened your eyes. Manon was there, tears still lining her cheeks. 

It took more effort than you cared to admit, but you reached your arm up, brushing a tear off her cheek. She leaned into your touch for a few seconds, before those beautiful eyes shot open. 

She grabbed your hand, holding it gently between both of hers. “You’re awake.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and hoarse. 

Dorian was up in an instant, sitting on the other side of the bed and taking your other hand. 

“Hi.” Your voice was so weak it came out as a croak. Dorian let out something between a sob and a laugh. 

Reluctantly, Dorian left to grab the healers as quickly as he could. Manon had refused to move - holding onto your hand like a lifeline. 

He returned with them, and it was a whirl of questions that made your head hurt, and further instructions. Rest, rest, and rest. Enough rest to drive you insane. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Manon finally asked after the room cleared. 

“It .. it didn’t seem that bad.” Your voice was rough and your throat scratchy but you managed to get the words out. 

“You hit your head, you’ve been out for a week.” Manon hissed, but kept her voice low. You could have died, went unsaid. Dorian handed you a glass of water, helping you sit up against the pillows. You could sense the … not quite anger, but hurt coming from him. Hurt and fear. You clutched the glass, forcing your hands not to shake, and took a small sip. 

“I know,” you whispered. She blinked in confusion. “I … I wasn’t here, but I could see it, sometimes.” Your hands began to shake, water starting to slosh over the edges

She pressed her lips in a tight line, and took the glass from you, pressing it up against your lips. “You’re not getting out of bed until I say so,” was her response. 

You glared at her, opening your mouth to say something, but Dorian spoke before you could. “This isn’t a battle you’ll win. I’m on her side.” 

“Traitor.” You mumbled.

[thetomorrowshow]

learning curve

empires superpowers au masterlist (not up to date)

this story takes place during chapters 10 & 11 of ‘poisoned rats’.

cw: anxiety, blood and injury

~

Scott calls out that he’s home as soon as he arrives, careful to close the door softly.

It’s been nearly a month, but it’s still weird to have another person living in his house. Particularly since that person is Solidarity.

He doesn’t get a response, but he doesn’t expect one. Solidarity is just as quiet as the day he’d arrived. Scott tries not to think about that too much.

Scott’s ashamed to admit that he doesn’t notice for a while. He goes about his afternoon, doing laundry and his post-work stretches and watching TV.

It’s not until he’s getting ready to prepare dinner that he actually approaches the closed door of the guest bedroom, knocking lightly on the door.

“Jimmy?” he calls quietly. “Would you like to help with dinner?”

No response.

Scott chews on his lip. “Okay, um. If you don’t want me to open the door, say something. I’m just coming in to make sure you’re all right.”

After another moment’s pause with no response, he eases the door open, sidles in.

Jimmy’s not there.

It isn’t hard for him to tell���there’s barely anything in the room, all the clothes put away neatly and the bed made. The spot between the bed and the wall that Jimmy likes to wedge himself into is empty as well.

Okay, no need to panic yet. Jimmy’s fairly new to using the home gym, so maybe he’s just checking out the equipment.

A glance in the gym tells him all he needs to know.

Still, it doesn’t mean he’s—he hasn’t been kidnapped. He hasn’t been kidnapped. He’s safe.

Scott heads into the kitchen, checking around for evidence that Jimmy’s been there. And once he’s looking, it isn’t hard to find.

The lunchmeat is out on the counter. The dishes cabinet is open, but there’s nothing new in the sink or the dishwasher. Scott looks around, checks the fridge, the other cabinets, the trash—

There’s something in the trash.

There’s shards of china in the trash, some of them dark with something red and wet.

The pieces fall into place.

Jimmy had broken a plate, panicked, and ran. Scott knows it with a certainty that surprises him, so he checks the shoes by the door just to make sure and immediately notices that Jimmy’s are missing.

His phone is plugged in at his bedside. His shoes are gone. There’s blood on the china in the trash and Jimmy is missing.

Scott’s tearing out the front door practically before his mask is firmly on his face.

It’s luck, more than anything, that at the end of the street he picks the right direction and within minutes can pull up to the side of the road, where a familiar figure in a grey hoodie is curled up against a lamppost.

“Jimmy!” Scott calls out the open window, trading out his mask for a beanie without even checking to see if anyone’s watching. Traffic’s bad at this time of the day, and already there are people angry about having to go around his car, but he hops out anyway and jogs around to the sidewalk.

“Jimmy,” he says again, and he doesn’t grab him by the arms but almost does— “Jimmy, are you all right?”

Jimmy flinches away, his hands curled loosely in front of him—and they’re absolutely covered in blood—

“Get in the car, okay?” Scott says, glancing around. Nobody’s paying much attention to them, they’re still in the wealthy part of the city with less folks out on the streets, but he’s pulled over on a major road so he needs to get Jimmy out. “We can disinfect this and wrap your hands up, all right? You’re not in trouble, I promise. Can you get in the car?”

Jimmy nods after a moment, allowing Scott to lead him back to the car. Scott buckles him in and shuts the passenger door, taking only a moment to rub his face. It’s okay. He found Jimmy. Everything’s going to turn out fine.

He keeps telling himself that on the silent drive home.

“Sorry,” whispers Jimmy when Scott sits him down in the bathroom, snapping open the first aid kit.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, it’s all right,” Scott says absentmindedly, unscrewing the cap of the rubbing alcohol and dousing a cotton ball with it. Jimmy sniffs, eyeing him carefully, his face streaked with tears and his hands still held gingerly in front of him.

“I’m going to clean your hands, then wrap them in gauze. Is there anywhere else you’re hurt?”

Jimmy shakes his head. Slowly, he uncurls his fingers, splaying his hands out for Scott to see.

It’s not as bad as he’d feared when he’d first seen blood streaming down his knuckles. There’s one large gash in the center of Jimmy’s right palm, and a couple of smaller ones with little slivers of china stuck in them, but all the other cuts littering his fingers and palms are tiny and shallow.

Scott disinfects first, telling Jimmy everything before he does it. He’s going to be patting it with this cotton ball first, and it might sting a bit, but it’s going to help, okay? Now that that’s done, he’s going to press a little harder to wipe away the blood. Is everything still all right? Does he need to slow down?

Forcefully, Scott’s reminded of a night from so long ago, when a heavily bleeding and injured Solidarity had collapsed on his doorstep. He’d been less gentle in his administrations, then.

It keeps Scott up at night more often than he’d like to admit. If he’d let Jimmy stay longer, would he have learned more about Xornoth’s abuse? Would he have felt motivated to track down the villain and take them out before more damage could be done? Could he have saved Jimmy so much unnecessary pain, just by being a kinder person?

“I’m going to use tweezers now, okay? There’s some splinters I think I can get out.”

Jimmy nods, and as Scott watches, his face . . . settles, in some strange way. The tears brimming at his eyes vanish, his mouth sets into a determined line.

It’s unsettling, and Scott’s not quite sure what it means, but if it helps Jimmy brave the treatment, he’s fine with it.

Jimmy’s hands flinch back a couple of times as Scott digs into the cuts with the tweezers, plucking out slivers of porcelain until he has a small, bloodstained pile of them on the corner of the sink. Once the wounds look totally de-splintered, he wipes them down again with rubbing alcohol then wraps them in gauze.

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy says again when he’s almost done. Instead of his automatic response of earlier, Scott pauses to consider that.

“What are you apologizing for?” he asks eventually, because while he’s pretty sure he knows what it is—breaking the plate—he’s not sure Jimmy understands that it’s something forgivable.

But Jimmy, surprisingly, doesn’t mention the plate. “Lying,” he says, and his face doesn’t break. His eyes don’t water. But something changes in the quality of his voice, some terrified edge to it. “I lied to you. I’m sorry.”

“What did you lie about?”

“I—I told you I could control it,” says Jimmy. “Back at—at the hospital. That my powers—I could control them. But I can’t. I—I wasn’t even touching the plate, it just—I don’t know what happened—”

Scott tapes off the end of the gauze, then sits on the side of the tub, doing his best to look into Jimmy’s eyes without forcing him. Jimmy’s biting his lip, hands shaking, looking for all the world like he’s about to bolt.

“It’s just a plate,” Scott says, trying in some way to convey the fact that he doesn’t care what Jimmy breaks, he’s not going to kick him out.

Jimmy shakes his head, quick and repetitive. “It’s just a plate today. It’s—it’s the doorknob tomorrow, and your car the day after, and then it’s your leg or—or—” he cuts himself off, swallowing thickly. “It’s—it’s nothing. Forget it.”

And before Scott can stop him, Jimmy rises on shaky legs and leaves the room, arms clutched around himself.

-

It’s times like these that Scott really misses Aeor.

He’s never taught anyone this kind of thing. He’s never even seen anyone else be taught—and his lessons in control had been far later than most might receive them.

But he decides to start with Jimmy the same way Aeor had started with him—proving that his mistakes aren’t harmful.

Scott’s hand hovers over the dishes in the cabinet. A stack of nine dinner plates, once ten. Five bowls. Eight dessert plates. Four mugs, four saucers.

He never uses half the stuff, particularly not the mugs and saucers—he’s bought his own, more casual mugs in recent years. And a quick internet search shows him that he could replace the entire set for relatively cheap, though they wouldn’t be identical.

The main issue is that these are dishes that came from Aeor. Dishes that he used.

It only takes a second for Scott to come to the conclusion that Aeor would prefer these dishes be put to use to help someone, rather than gather dust in the cabinet.

So Scott piles all of the dishes in the backyard, just beyond his little flower garden. He’s got a decent-sized backyard with a privacy fence, which he thinks will do quite nicely. If they stand on the patio, the fence isn’t too far away, yet not right in their faces. Still, a bit of protective gear is in order.

He manages to scrounge up two pairs of safety glasses and three pairs of work gloves in the garage, all of which he sets out next to the dishes on the patio. Then he turns the oven on, sets a frozen pizza to cook, and heads upstairs to find Jimmy.

Scott knocks gently on the door. “Jimmy? Can I talk to you?”

What feels like ages passes with no sound. Scott’s poised to knock again, mind racing through various possibilities—did he run again? Is he hurt?—before he hears movement inside.

It’s still another full minute before the door opens, revealing a rather miserable-looking Jimmy.

His hair is all rumpled, like he hasn’t gotten out of bed all day. His t-shirt is half tucked into his jeans, half sticking out under his hoodie. The constant shadows under his eyes have only deepened, ringing the redness that rims them. The tip of his nose is red to match, and he sniffles as he stands there, waiting for Scott to speak.

Scott clears his throat, takes a slight step back (he doesn’t want Jimmy to feel like he has no personal space). “Um, I started on dinner, but I was hoping I could have your help with something? In the backyard?”

It’s an agonizingly long moment that Jimmy takes to think it over, but eventually he bites his lip and nods, rocking back on his heels as he waits for Scott to lead the way.

Scott does so, pausing by the front door so that Jimmy can slip on his shoes, then leads him out the back.

“I don’t want you to ever feel unsafe here, all right?” Scott begins, putting on a pair of safety glasses. Jimmy stares at the glasses, the gloves, and the dishes, before cautiously taking the other pair, eyes flicking up toward Scott every so often.

“I accidentally froze something when I was seventeen, and my parents kicked me out. I always thought that was just the way it was—I had to be perfect with my powers, always, and my lack of control was . . . well, I spent a long time hating myself for those accidents.”

Scott pulls on his work gloves, still stained with dirt from the last time he tended his garden. Jimmy surveys the two remaining pairs before choosing the larger ones, biting his lip as he gingerly pulls them on over his bandaged hands.

“I didn’t figure out until—or, Aeor taught me—” Jimmy flinches at the name, but Scott carries on— “that you’re expected to make mistakes. Nobody knows how to control their powers at first. It’s a . . . it’s a learning curve, see?”

Jimmy shrugs. And that’s fine—Scott’s fairly sure it’s a quiet day. It’s just difficult to work with at the moment. He just barely restrains from pinching the bridge of his nose, remembering at the last second that he’s wearing dirty work gloves. How had Aeor ever managed this with teenage Scott?

“From what I understand,” says Scott, “you couldn’t control your powers until . . . recently. And now, you’re thinking that maybe you can’t, because you used them accidentally?”

Jimmy looks away, throat bobbing. He shrugs again.

“Right. So, first of all, this is normal. It’s sort of like—like you’re going through puberty again, okay? You’re going through the learning-to-control stage for the first time, so you’re going to mess up. It happens. I messed up so many times—I used to freeze over the floor when I was angry. I used to be terrible at control, but I just needed someone to help.”

Hopefully that part of the lesson has gotten through to Jimmy. He’s observed, in the month that Jimmy’s been here, that even on quiet days he’s listening more often than not. Scott sucks in a breath, hoping that some air will loosen the stressed knot in his chest, and picks up a bowl.

“So, mistakes are really common. And, Jimmy, I don’t really . . . understand your power, I guess, but things are going to break while you learn how to control. And I just . . . I want to make sure you know it’s okay. It’s okay to break things, okay?”

And with that, Scott chucks the bowl at the fence at the other end of the yard.

It collides with a smash, shards of porcelain flying apart at the impact. Jimmy takes a startled step back, reminding Scott wildly of a spooked horse.

He acts like he doesn’t notice, though, instead handing Jimmy a dinner plate.

Jimmy glances at him, unsure, as he takes it. Scott smiles in a way that he hopes is encouraging, points to the fence.

“Go for it. Don’t hold back.”

Jimmy’s certainly holding back when he throws the plate, but it breaks anyhow, snapping in half against the fence. Scott hears him gasp, but when he looks back at him, Jimmy’s as stoic as ever.

Scott picks up another dinner plate and tosses it, feeling an odd sort of satisfaction echo through his bones as it breaks against the fence. He hands Jimmy a bowl, and with noticeably less trepidation, Jimmy throws it at the fence.

It’s a weird bonding activity, to be sure. Not the weirdest—Scott can remember some of the bonding stuff the theatre folk he worked with in college got up to—but it definitely ranks up there as something probably socially unacceptable.

He throws the next dish even harder.

“Things are going to break,” Scott reiterates, handing Jimmy one of the mugs. “I broke things. You’ll break things. You’re not going to be in trouble for it—you’re an adult, and I plan to treat you like one, all right? And I plan to help you learn how to control it. You’re not alone in this.”

Jimmy hurls a saucer with all his strength, and Scott thinks he sees a shadow of a smile when it shatters against the fence. He does it again with a dinner plate, then steps back, allowing Scott to throw a few more.

When it comes down to the last dish—a dinner plate—Scott hands it to Jimmy, gestures for him to take a good stance. Jimmy doesn’t hesitate; he sends the plate flying into the fence, and this time he definitely smiles a bit when it breaks.

“Jimmy,” Scott says seriously when the man, panting a little bit, turns back to him. “I want you to know—there is nothing in this house that you can break that will make me stop caring about you. As your conservator—and more importantly, as your friend, I place your health and happiness above anything that I own. I want you to remember that, okay?”

Jimmy nods, and Scott’s struck by the sudden, overwhelming urge to hug him. He doesn’t, of course—Jimmy doesn’t really do well with touch, and that’s fine by Scott. He really, really wants to, though.

Instead, he tugs off his gloves and jerks his head in the direction of the backdoor. “I put a pizza in the oven, it should be done soon. Want to find something on Netflix and just hang out for the rest of the night?”

Of course, Jimmy doesn’t say anything. But he offers a small smile, shakes off his gloves, and places his safety glasses on the patio table. Then he steps around Scott and heads inside.

That night, they eat pizza on paper plates while watching an episode of a new suspense show. When the drama peaks, the light in the living room fizzles and goes out—and while Jimmy flinches hard and hides his face, Scott reassures him that it’s fine until he reemerges, forcing out a raspy apology, but agreeing to finish the episode.

It’s not perfect, but it’s progress. And somehow, Scott feels almost proud—and he thinks, really, Aeor would be as well.

[thehardy-boys]

The Platform Part 7 (Tommy Shelby x Reader)

Hi there! Thank you all for taking the time to read this little story. I love reading all your sweet comments! They make my day! I'm so sorry about the huge delay. I've been at uni which has sapped my entire soul and ability to have hobbies. This is the next part so I hope you all enjoy reading it. I'll try and post the next part in the next few days! Also I've tried to tag everyone who wanted to be tagged but I might have missed someone so just let me know! :)

Warnings: Bit of blood but nothing too crazy and some light smut

Part 7

(y/n) had been right; the winter was harsh. The wind was unforgiving. It cut her cheeks on her walks to work, and it froze her nose and made her bones ache when she was in bed. There were snow flurries that made her shiver and freezing rain that chilled her permanently; that not even a hot bath could solve.

In the dead of winter, her mother died. (y/n) got the call at work. She took two days off. One to organize the funeral and the other to attend it. Her mother had no friends, no remaining family. (y/n) buried her out in the marshlands alone and then it was over and done with. She felt nothing and she was ashamed. (y/n) remembered when she was younger how kind her mother was, but she had changed. The war had twisted her. The fear she had felt for both her kids had altered her. In the end, she wasn’t the same person. (y/n) didn’t even cry; instead, she went back to work.

She had handed off the Thursday deliveries to Evelyn, she was ecstatic. (y/n) had been worried that there would be some backlash, that Thomas would storm into the building and demand that she do her job, but it never came. She didn’t write anymore horse related articles. When Mr. Beavers asked about them, she just said that she assumed Mr. Shelby would contact them if he wanted anymore. But he never did.

In fact, she didn’t see him for weeks. And she was glad; she needed the distance. But there was also a part of her that was disappointed, and she hated that. She wished she was stronger, that she could just move on. But she was weak; she wanted somebody who wanted her. She wanted somebody to hold her and kiss her. But the truth was not just somebody…she was very weak because she wanted him, Thomas.

The knock came in the dead of night. It was a particularly cold one and (y/n) had carefully cocooned herself in several blankets. It took her a full five minutes to untangle herself. She wrapped her nightgown around herself and carefully walked down the hall to her front door. Her bare feet beginning to ache from the chilled wooden floors. Another knock against the door.

“Who is it?” She called out.

“Me.” And she knew who it was. She moved forward and opened the door a crack. He was leaning heavily against the door frame. His hair was skewed and something black was dripping down the side of his face.

“Is that blood?”

“Are you going to let me in, then?” But he was already pushing her aside.

“Here, sit here. Let me get something for the cut.” She pushed him into one of the kitchen chairs and ran to the bathroom for her bandages. When she came back, he was already beginning to unbutton his shirt. His jacket was discarded on one of the chairs. It looked as if he had foregone his vest for the day. (y/n) bustled over and took over unbuttoning the rest and pulling the shirt to the side to see a cut on the left of his rib cage.

She leaned forward to have a better look, “This isn’t that deep so no stitches.”

(y/n) disinfected it, ignoring the slight hiss from Thomas. Then she cleaned and patched it up. She grabbed a rag and cleaned off the blood from the rest of his torso. And she ignored the rippling muscles beneath his milky skin. Her eyes dutifully avoiding the tattoo above his heart and the smattering of hair at the base of his throat because those weren’t for her.

“You were a nurse.” His rough voice pulled (y/n) from her focus.

She didn’t respond and instead had a look at the cut on the side of his temple.

“During the war.” He continued, his voice rumbled through her empty flat, filled the gaping corners.

She replied with disinfectant and felt gratified when he jerked in the chair.

“Are you asking or telling?” She finally spoke after she finished rubbing away the blood from the side of his face.

When she looked into his eyes, she found them ready for her, welcoming her own.

“Askin’.”

“I was but I guess Mrs. Chestisen already told you.” The name soured (y/n)’s mouth and brought back the humiliation of the balcony, the anger she felt in front of the hotel.

Thomas swallowed and averted his gaze to something behind her. She carefully placed a small bandage over his cut.

“Finished.” She gathered up the supplies, but he took her wrist, turned her back to him so she was forced to look down at him and she did see the guilt, she could see the regret written in his eyes.

“(y/n), let me explain.” She pulled her arm out of his hand and turned away to put away the extra bandages leaving him in the kitchen. When she came back, he was standing, leaning against the counter, shirt open, hair tousled, and looking drained. She leaned against the opposite counter and wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling both cold and exposed in her dressing gown. Thomas looked up at her as she came in and they both stood there in silence, watching each other. The loneliness of her flat pushed in on them.

“Why did you come here?” (y/n) asked when she realized Thomas wasn’t going to break. He was too stubborn.

He sighed, his chest caving in visibly now with his shirt open and he dropped his head.

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I don’t know.” He hissed at her, eyes alight and pinning her against the counter with their force.

He shook his head and carded a finger through his hair, “I was bleedin’ out. I was bleedin’, and I looked down at my chest and saw the blackness of it. I came here. I just came here.”

He threw his hands up in frustration, showing more emotion than she had ever seen from him, “And I though’ of you.” He swallowed, “I though’ of you, is all.” He whispered, eyes falling away to find some purchase on the kitchen table.

(y/n) was at a loss for what to do. She didn’t understand him. There was a part of her that was still frozen over from the incident at the party but another part of her was beginning to thaw. She wanted an explanation for that night because a small corner in her mind wanted to believe that it was a misunderstanding. That Thomas wouldn’t have done something like that, not to her.

“Explain to me,” And he turned to look at her as she spoke, jaw clenching, eyes shimmering under the dull kitchen light, “what happened that night.”

Thomas swallowed and swiped a hand over his eyes, “I knew Mrs. Chestisen might have known of you. She mentioned her son before. Your brother came up and I made the connection, same last name. I didn’t know she blamed you for what happened. I thought that you might have been happy to see her because…she might have known something about your brother.” His chest tightened as he let out another breath.

“I didn’t know that she would react like that. I didn’t know, (y/n).”  He tapered off.

(y/n) rubbed up and down her arms trying to bring some warmth to herself, “Alright.”

“Alright?”

“Alright, I believe you.”

Thomas exhaled and (y/n) subtly watched his abdomen contract, how the firm muscles rippled. He was distracting. She wished he would button up the shirt.

“I’m sorry about your mother.”

“It wasn’t much of a surprise; she had been sick for a while.”

“Will you leave?” His eyebrows raised in question, his hands gripping the counter behind him.

“Leave?”

“Small Heath.”

(y/n) tugged her robe tighter around her, “Should I?”

And there was an unspoken question there. Should she bother staying for him. But she needed some kind of sign, a signal, or a hint that she wasn’t just delusional. That there was something meaningful between them.

“Where would you go?” His voice deep from emotion.

(y/n) shrugged and walked forward slightly to tidy up her kitchen table. She collected a few stray oranges and piled them all into the fruit bowl. With her movements her gown came slightly undone revealing a brief glimpse of her soft night dress, but she quickly covered herself up and glanced over at Thomas but from the darkness that slipped into his eyes he must have seen something of her nightwear. And whatever he saw, it drew him forward. The back of her thighs hit the wooden table as he neared her.

“Anywhere.” She whispered out between them. He reached forward to tug at her dressing gown, and it slipped open more fully, and his eyes swallowed her figure. Her night dress was a warm cream, but it did nothing to hide the shape, the gesture, the detail of herself and Thomas seemed to be appreciating that, deeply.

“I could go to London.” (y/n) heard the breathiness of her own voice and Thomas’s eyes snapped up to her lips but he did the opposite of what she expected. Instead of leaning forward he dropped to his knees.

“What are you doing?” Her chest began to rise and fall rapidly. Thomas looked up at her as his hand wrapped around her ankle. Then his hand began to move. Soft, light, teasing he dragged his hand up her calf and he leaned down to place a kiss on her shin. He pulled her leg forward to place another warm kiss on the top of her knee. Then another, another until he reached the hem of her dress. He looked up at her then. He didn’t ask but he looked and drew his hand up to push her dress further up, revealing the fullness of her thigh. Another kiss, another. And she felt herself react, the wetness between her thighs making itself known. She wondered if he could see it through the sheerness of her dress. He teased his lips over her skin, drawing patterns, and swiping his tongue out and it drove her crazy, made her breathless.

She grasped the edges of the table. He made her mind melt, his continuous movements. She found it hard to form any thoughts, let alone words, “You’re hurt, Thomas.” That was the best she could come up with.

“Don’t feel hurt.” He mumbled out against her skin. He moved further up, nudging the last of her dress up with his nose as placed more open mouth kisses. He had reached the apex of her thigh and if he just turned his head and leaned forward a breath, he would be right where she needed him. And her heart felt as if it was making a run for it as he did just that. He was so close. She could feel his breath against her core, and she knew there was no way that he couldn’t tell how wet she was. She could feel it dripping past her lips. And the hitch in his breath and slight rumble from his chest hinted that he could see it. He took one lick, a deep one that teased past her folds and her hips jerked at the sudden sensation.

Suddenly she gained some sentience and realized that this wouldn’t solve anything. Did she want this? Grab his hair and pull him forwards to devour her? Yes. Yes, she did. But he was bleeding out moments ago, he had hurt her before, humiliated her even if it was a mistake, and it was the middle of the night. It was happening to fast. So, it took all her effort to push him away and drag him back up to his feet. He was caught off guard, a bit dazed, his eyes wide with surprise and his lips just glistening from her wetness.

“What’s wrong?” His hands found her waist and she realized she had missed that feeling, the weight of them around her.

She shook her head, her hands gripping his biceps, to ground herself, “This won’t help anything. It’ll just make it more complicated.”

He looked at her. That indifferent, shuttered look began to fall over his face, “No, no Thomas don’t shut down. I’m just saying that I need to think. That I need to slow down. I don’t want to just be some fantasy of a memory fulfilled.”

He pulled her too him and leaned down to place a soft, feather kiss on her lips. She could just taste the hint of herself on him and a surge of desire pulsed through her, but she needed to be strong.

“You’re not a fantasy. You’re real. I don’t want you to regret it.” Her mouth twisted at his choice of words as she remembered what she had told him after the party. How she had regrated the platform, the balcony, the kisses, the moments, all of it. She turned away from him, releasing herself from his arms.

“Button up, it’s cold outside.” She grabbed his jacket from one of the kitchen chairs and brushed it off before holding it to him. He was silent in his acceptance. She walked him to the door and watched as he walked down the front steps before turning around and looking up at her. (y/n) shivered against the winter air.

He cleared his throat, “You’re not leaving then?”

(y/n) shrugged, “I don’t know. That’s why I don’t want to…to start anything that won’t be finished.”

Thomas looked down at his feet. He looked young in this moment of vulnerability. He looked very close to the Thomas she had been with on the platform.

His mouth twitched as if trying to fight against his own words, “Will you do the deliveries again?”

“Yes.” She whispered, her breath clouding in the air.

Part 6 ---- Part 8 (Coming soon...)

Tags: @black-kitten-imagines, @illuminwtesz, @slutforcoffein, @madeinuk, @in0320, @globetrotter28, @txmxav, @christina-who, @sagemastah, @marcysbear,

[atomicladytimetravel]

Hot for Teacher

I saw a request by @whichwitchwanda and I had a good idea. It got a little longer than I expected it to but I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: After a stressful morning of teaching, your fiancé Joel stops by to help blow off some steam. You get a Zoom call from your boss, but that doesn’t stop him from making you feel good. Things only get better once the two of you are home.

No outbreak AU. There’s an unspecified age gap (however reader is young enough to be able to get pregnant) so you can use your imagination. Smut with little plot. 18+ MINORS DNI. Public oral and breeding kink. No use of (y/n).

3,824 Words.

“I think I might actually hate my job.”

You said it out loud to an empty classroom. You were staring at the mess of papers, empty water bottles and food trash your students had left on the floor. You ignored the school’s no food in class policy as long as the students picked up after themselves. It hadn’t been an issue in the previous years, but the group of students you had that semester were rough.

You took your phone out and snapped a picture of the mess. You walked through the rows of desks and sighed heavily upon seeing one with dicks of various sizes drawn in what you could only assume was permanent marker. You grabbed a disinfectant wipe and confirmed your suspicions when the ink didn’t budge. You took a picture of that as well.

You went back to your desk and opened your laptop. You were supposed to be having a Zoom meeting with your superintendent and principal in half an hour to discuss this exact issue. You transferred the two pictures over and attached them to an email.

Good morning,

Due to the destruction of my classroom (see attached photos), I am requesting we reschedule our Zoom meeting. I have to clean this up during my free period. I will be available when my students leave for lunch between 12:00pm-12:45pm.

You signed the email and sent it, hoping for a quick response. While you waited, you shot off a text to your fiancé Joel.

[9:04 AM] You: I am so done with these fucking teenagers.

He didn’t respond immediately, but you expected that. He was either elbow deep in paperwork or at a job site helping his guys put up walls. You did get a response from your two bosses confirming their ability to reschedule, however. After thanking them, you closed your laptop and got to work cleaning. Your phone vibrated a few minutes later and you paused to check your messages.

[9:31 AM] Joel: Uh oh. Bad morning?

[9:32 AM] You: [Image Attached] They destroyed my classroom. There’s trash everywhere and someone drew dicks all over one of the desks. In PERMANENT MARKER.

[9:32 AM] You: Now I have to grade papers AND have my Zoom meeting during lunch since I’m stuck cleaning this up during my free period.

You continued cleaning, going between the rows and picking up the trash. You came to the dick desk and wondered how you were going to get that cleaned up. You googled “how to remove permanent marker from a school desk” and scrolled through the results. Your eyes flicked to the top of the screen when another text from Joel came through.

[9:51 AM] Joel: Fuck, that looks pretty bad. I’m sorry babe. Some people’s kids 🙄

[9:52 AM] You: Tell me about it. Better finish cleaning before my next class. Love you 😘

[9:52AM] Joel: Love you more ❤️

One of the google results said a dry eraser marker should remove the permanent marker from the desk. You were pleasantly surprised to find out it worked. At least you didn’t have to hear the immature comments from the next kid to sit there.

You finished cleaning right before the bell rang. Your next class went alright; your classroom wasn’t in shambles at least. When the bell rang for lunch, you scarfed down the granola bar you’d gotten from the vending machine in the teachers lounge and started grading papers. There was a soft knock on your door a few minutes later. You saw Joel through the thin window and smiled, motioning him in.

“Hey baby, what are you doing here?”

“Since you had a rough morning, I thought I would come see you and bring you this,” he said, placing a venti cup of your favorite Starbucks on your desk.

“Oh god, this is exactly what I needed.” You grabbed the drink and took a big gulp of it. “I knew I loved you for a reason.”

He chuckled and stood behind you, massaging your shoulders as you continued grading. His strong hands worked at your tense muscles; you almost moaned because it felt so good.

“Damn darlin’, you really are stressed. Your shoulders are rock hard,” he observed.

“You have no idea,” you sighed. “These kids are killin’ me.”

“You know you can leave if you want to. I can support both of us comfortably, you don’t have to put yourself through this,” he reminded you. He’d been trying to get you to quit all year. His contractor business had taken off and he made more than enough to take care of you. You had been mulling over his offer more and more. Between the students and poor decision making from the school board, you went home crying more often than not.

“I know. I’ve actually been giving it a lot of thought,” you replied. “This has been my worst year teaching.”

“I know baby.” He moved your hair to the side and peppered kisses to your neck.

“Joel, what are you doing?” you giggled softly.

“Let me make it better,” he muttered into your skin.

“Baby, I’m at work,” you pointed out.

“So? No one is in here. I locked the door when I came in. I haven’t had lunch yet so why don’t you let me eat that little pussy real quick?” His lips were next to your ear now and his bedroom voice sent shivers down your spine. You knew you definitely shouldn’t, but an orgasm would help relieve stress. You were thankful for the maxi dress you chose to wear that morning.

“Mmm, how can I say no?” you hummed.

“Thaaaat’s a good girl,” he whispered right into your ear. You spun your chair around to face him.

“Good girls don’t let their fiancé eat their pussy while they’re at their teaching job.”

“Good girls do what they’re told.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. “Now turn back around.”

You obeyed and he got to his knees in front of you. He backed up under your desk, smirking the whole time. The man loved being dirty. He settled himself under your dress and pulled your panties off. He spread your thighs with his hands and placed soft kisses to the flesh between your legs. You tried your best to keep your face neutral as he started kitten licking at your clit. You gasped when he sucked gently. You were so lost in the pleasure that you almost missed the invitation for your Zoom meeting come across your laptop.

“Shit…Joel, my Zoom meeting,” you said, sitting up straighter in your chair. He didn’t stop.

“Joel, it’s the superintendent of the school district,” you hissed.

“Better be on your best behavior then.” You couldn’t see his face but you could practically hear the shit eating grin plastered on it. You clicked the link to join the meeting and composed yourself as best as you could. The faces of the superintendent and the principal appeared on the screen.

“Good afternoon Mrs. French, Mr. Simms,” you addressed them. “Thank you for taking the time to have this meeting.”

You struggled to remain professional as Joel’s tongue circled your clit. He was an expert with his tongue. You could feel yourself getting wetter with every swipe. You wanted to fuck his face so bad, but you knew your top half would give you away.

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry to see the photos you sent to us,” Mrs. French (the superintendent) said. She really looked like she could not have cared less.

“Yes, that’s disheartening to see,” Mr. Simms added. “What’s with all the food wrappers? There’s a no food in class policy.”

You toyed with your bottom lip and thought carefully about your answer. You knew they would ask about that. Joel sucked on your clit again and the jolt of pleasure made you slap your hand on the desk.

“Is everything alright?” Mrs. French asked, eyebrow raised.

“Yes, just killing a pesky gnat,” you lied. “I told my students at the beginning of the semester that I didn’t mind if they ate in my class as long as they clean up after themselves.”

You did your best to concentrate on your principal’s response as Joel’s tongue prodded at your hole before licking back up to your clit. You bucked your hips ever so slightly; thankfully it looked like you were just adjusting your position.

“We have a no food policy in place for a reason. You can’t rely on rely on teenagers to clean up after themselves,” Mr. Simms said. You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Then you had to stop yourself from crying out as Joel began furiously eating your pussy. Your hands white knuckled the arms of your chair. You cleared your throat, hoping your voice would come out steady.

“To be frank, I’ve been telling my students this since I began teaching here three years ago. This is the first time it’s ever been an issue. My students this semester have been disrespectful and rude,” you told them. “I have several more pictures to prove it.”

Your breath hitched when you felt two of Joel’s thick fingers slide into you. You wished you could see him, nose buried in your cunt and knuckle deep inside you. You loved it when he looked up at you when his face was between your legs. You were trying so hard not to make any noise; Joel’s fingers were ramming into your g-spot repeatedly and it felt so fucking good. You wanted to feel him everywhere. You wanted his hands to pull the neckline of your dress down and roll your nipples between his fingers. You wanted him to fuck you from behind, your dress bunched up to your waist and tits spilling out the front. You realized you had zoned out while your superintendent was speaking and you rejoined the conversation mentally.

“-so you really can’t blame the students for leaving food wrappers everywhere.”

You didn’t need to know the rest of what she had said. She was blaming you for the mess the students had made.

“With all due respect, I do blame the students. They’re all old enough and should know how to walk to a trash can to dispose of their trash. Water bottles and paper are allowed in class and that also littered my floor this morning. Should I stop allowing water and paper?” You were getting angry, but that didn’t stop Joel. If anything, it made him go harder. Your cheeky side turned him on. Your legs were shaking with pleasure on his shoulders.

“There’s no need for sarcasm,” Mrs. French chastised. “What do you want us to do about it?”

“Literally anything besides nothing,” you responded angrily. You were tired of not being taken seriously. “I’ve been dealing with this all semester and I’ve gotten no help from either one of you. I’m tired of going home mentally exhausted and crying.”

You made up your mind then. You could have a much better, more stress free life as Joel’s housewife.

“As a matter of fact, today is my last day teaching.”

Joel stopped then, shocked that you actually just quit.

“Let’s not be hasty now,” Mrs. French started, but you cut her off.

“Listen, my fiancé makes more than enough to support me and I don’t need to keep taking shit from this fucked up school district. I’d leave right now if I thought you could find a sub on such short notice.”

They both stared at you in stunned silence; you had always been very mellow and neither of them ever thought you had it in you to speak to them that way.

“I’ll leave my room key at the front office at the end of the day. It’s been a pleasure speaking with you.”

You left the Zoom meeting without another word.

“Keep eating my pussy,” you demanded. “Need to fucking cum.” Joel wasted no time obliging. The tip of his tongue worked furiously at your clit and you sighed with relief. He pumped his fingers inside you again, curling them and making your hips rise involuntarily. A quiet moan slipped past your lips and you pursed them together tightly. He flattened his tongue against your clit and you bucked your hips, fucking his face until you were teetering on the edge.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whispered. You slapped your hand over your mouth and squeezed your eyes shut as the orgasm washed over you. You squeezed his head with your thighs and he knew you were cumming hard. When your body relaxed, you pushed your chair back and Joel stood up. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned widely at you.

“You quit.”

“I did. I’m all yours from now on,” you smiled. The thought of not coming back tomorrow filled your entire body with joy.

“Baby girl, you better be ready when I get home tonight,” he smirked. He pulled you to his chest and kissed you softly. His hard on poked your thigh through his jeans. “Wish I could fuck you on this desk right now. I’m so fucking hard.”

You reached down and gave his dick a quick squeeze.

“Mmm, you are aren’t you? I’ll take care of that for you later,” you promised. He smiled.

“I’ll see you at home baby. Love you,” he said, kissing you once more.

“Love you more.”

———————————

When you got home from work, you freshened up and put on Joel’s favorite black lace teddy. You dabbed a little perfume behind your ears and on your chest. You heard him come through the front door and you checked your appearance in the full length mirror before settling on the bed.

“Baby?” he called from downstairs.

“Up here, in the bedroom!” you called back. You heard his heavy boots thudding up the stairs.

“Look at my baby,” he grinned when he opened the door. “God damn, you look like heaven.”

“You told me to be ready for you. I’m ready,” you told him. He stood at the end of the bed and you crawled over to him. You stood on your knees and draped your arms around his neck. You put your lips to his ear. “Been ready all day.”

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I’m so fucking proud of you baby. Gonna reward you so good.”

He crashed his lips against yours for a hot, open mouthed kiss. His fingers tangled in your hair as your tongues swirled together. His other hand pawed at your ass cheek, squeezing briefly before giving it a smack.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day. I’ve been half hard since I left the school. I can’t wait to bury myself in your tight little pussy.” His mouth was on your neck then, nibbling and sucking at the skin. You knew there would be a mark there later, but you didn’t care now. He pushed the thin straps of your teddy down and pulled the neckline so that your breasts were exposed to him.

“So fucking pretty,” he muttered as he squeezed them in his hands. His thumbs swiped over your nipples and they hardened under his touch. He used his tongue on one of the sensitive buds as if he were using it on your clit. The sensation sent arousal straight to your core.

“Hmmm, that feels good,” you hummed. You cried out when he sucked then gently nibbled on your nipple. You were already soaking the lace in between your legs. As if reading your mind, he reached down and grazed his fingers over your pussy lips.

“Fuck baby, you’re soaking for me,” he marveled. He pushed the teddy the rest of the way down your body and helped you out of it.

“As much as I love that thing, I love seeing all of you even more,” he said. He shed his own clothing and instructed you to lie back on the bed. He crawled over you and nudged your legs apart with his knee. He reached down and lightly pressed two fingers to your throbbing clit. He began rubbing in tantalizingly slow circles. He looked down at you with lust filled eyes. You spread your legs wider to give him better access.

“There ya go, that’s my good girl,” he praised. He moved his fingers faster and you moaned, squeezing his bicep.

“God Joel, fuck me please,” you whimpered.

“Mmm, soon but not yet baby. I love touching your little pussy. Love feeling how it responds to me.” He dipped one finger inside you before dragging it back up to your clit and you moaned again. His words turned you on even more and you bucked your hips into his hand. He pushed them down and pinned you to the bed.

“Patience, love. You’ll get what you need,” he soothed. He pushed two fingers inside you and continued rubbing your clit with his thumb.

“Fuck, baby that feels good,” you whined.

“You deserve to feel good, sweet girl. Gonna make you forget all that stress.” He fingered you expertly and peppered kisses to any part of you his mouth could reach. “I’m gonna take such good care of my baby.”

“Oh god,” you moaned. The way he was talking to you drove you wild.

“Cum on my fingers so I can give you this cock,” he commanded. “I’m gonna fuck you so good baby. Can you cum for me baby girl?”

“Fuck, yes I’m so close,” you gasped. You pulled his face to yours so you could kiss him hard.

“I’m gonna cum,” you panted against his lips.

“Yeah, give me that cum baby,” he growled. You came around his fingers, your head tipping back and mouth hanging open as he continued to fuck you with his fingers. He slowly pulled his fingers out of you once you’d come down and he sucked them clean.

“God I love the way you taste,” he said before kissing you again. You could taste the remnants of your orgasm on his tongue. He didn’t waste any more time; he dragged his rock hard cock through your pussy lips and you jolted when the tip hit your sensitive clit.

“Put it in Joel, please,” you begged.

“Aw, my needy little thing,” he cooed. He slid just the tip of his cock inside you before pulling it back out slowly.

“N-no teasing baby, please give me your cock,” you pouted.

“Since you asked so nicely…”

He slid into you fully, bottoming out before sliding out and repeating the motion.

“F-fuck Joel…so big. Feels so good,” you moaned.

“Yeah? This what you needed baby? To be full of my cock?” His hips snapped forward and you wrapped your legs around his waist, gripping the sheets beneath you.

“Yes baby, wanted to be full of you so bad. Love how you feel inside me.”

“Shit baby girl,” he groaned. “Gonna fuck my baby like she deserves.”

He thrust harder, faster and rubbed your clit with his thumb until you were screaming his name over and over.

“God Joel, keep fucking me just like that. You’re gonna make me cum.” Your words came out breathlessly and desperate.

“Cum on my cock baby. Let go for me.” He rubbed your clit faster and you came around him, your cunt squeezing his cock. Your nails scratched down his back and your hips rose off the bed as you orgasmed hard.

“Oh my god,” you panted. “Fuck baby, that felt so good.”

“Can you do it again darlin’? God I could watch you cum for the rest of my life.” His voice was gruff and sexy.

“Mmm yeah baby, give me another one,” you purred.

“God damn I love you,” he grinned down at you.

“I love you,” you replied, matching his grin. He brought your legs up so that the back of your thighs were pressed to his chest. He held your ankles together with one hand as he resumed thrusting.

“I love being in this tight fucking pussy,” he groaned through gritted teeth. You did a kegel around him and his movements stuttered.

“Oh god do that again,” he moaned. You did it once more and reveled at the reaction you got from him. He wrapped his arm around your thighs and thrust into you hard.

“Cum for me again baby. I’m not gonna last much longer with you doin’ all that,” he panted. You giggled a little; he was very much the dominant one but you loved what you could do to him with the tightening of one muscle. He started fucking into you with intensity, his balls slapping against you obscenely with every thrust; you tensed around him again.

“If you don’t quit doin’ that, I’m gonna cum before you do,” he warned.

“Give it to me,” you whimpered. “Cum inside my pussy.”

“Are you sure?” he asked; you’d talked about children but your job always came first.

“Yes baby, I wanna be so full of your cum.”

“Yeah? You want me to give you a baby?” You weren’t aware either of you had a breeding kink until then.

“Oh god, fuck, yes put a baby in me,” you cried.

“Oh yeah baby girl. Gonna look so good being my pregnant little housewife.” His thrusts were relentless. You could tell he was getting close. He dropped your legs and leaned down to kiss you, swallowing the moans coming from your mouth. You wrapped your legs around him again and he reached between you to rub your clit.

“Joel, I’m gonna cum baby. Gonna cum so f-fucking hard.”

Your back arched off the bed as you came for him again. You muffled your screams into a pillow so the neighbors wouldn’t think you were being murdered.

“God damn, squeezin’ my cock so good. I’m gonna cum. Gonna fill you up and fuck a baby right in this little pussy.”

“That’s right baby, fill my pussy up. Give me all your fucking cum,” you encouraged. You squeezed around him as he thrust one last time and you felt warm cum filling you up. His hips stilled and he held onto your thighs for dear life as he drained his balls deep in your cunt. When he was finished, he pulled his sensitive cock out and watched as his cum dripped from your hole.

“That is so hot,” he panted. “I like seeing my cum drip out of you.”

“I think we just discovered a new kink,” you giggled.

“I think so,” he winked. He kissed you tenderly.

“I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself today,” he said. “I promise, I’ll take care of you for the rest of our lives. You and anyone else that comes along.”

“I’m the luckiest girl in the world,” you smiled softly.

“I’m the lucky one.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I love you.”

“I love you, too Joel.”

[yourfavblondy]

RECKLESS

warning: mentions of injury

synopsis: a fight just like any other leads to confessions in the dark

It was just another normal night. You were lying in bed peacefully scrolling on your phone. Oh how naive you were. With the infamous Rindou Haitani as your best friend no night would ever be normal. A knock on your window interrupted your scrolling. You shuffled closer to let the intruder in.

To your horror inside stumbled a beaten up Rindou. He could barely walk and needed your help so he wouldn't fall to the ground. "Rindou..." you whispered helping him lay down on your comfy bed. "Stay there." you ordered before going to the bathroom to get your first aid kit. "Not like I can go anywhere." he chuckled, but his laughter quickly died down and was followed by a painful groan. Not even a minute later you came back into the room standing next to him. "Um can I unbutton your shirt?" you asked awkwardly. You just hoped that the shadow cast over your face provided you with enough protection so that he wouldn't see your red face. Sure Rin had been to your apartment plenty of times to get patched up after fights but it was never this bad and you never ended up in a situation where he needed to unbutton his shirt. Usually he would let himself in and ask you to help him with small bruises, cuts, scrapes maybe even a busted lip or a black eye but never something as serious as this. He nodded slowly and you unbuttoned his shirt. The atmosphere was heavy. Quiet and solemn. Nobody dared to utter even a word. The only sounds present in the room were the sounds of you rhythmic breathing. As you undid the last button Rindou let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Your eyes widened in shock in hurt to see your best friend like this. Bruises of various colour and size littered his torso. You tried looking in his eyes but he just turned his head the other way, ashamed. "You should see how the other guys look..." he tried lightening up the mood but nothing helped. You didn't answer instead you just applied bandages where needed and disinfected the open wounds.

After you were done you put the first aid kit back in its place before kneeling on the floor next to he bed. Your head rested on the bed next to his arms while you absentmindedly traced shapes and patterns on his open palm. "Rin you need to be more careful. You're too reckless. I don't want to loose you, you mean too much to me. Please Rindou promise me you'll be more careful." you mumbled breaking the silence. "I promise. I don't wanna loose you either. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. You mean the world to me and I'd do anything to keep you by my side. I promise I'll be more careful." he muttered. "I love you Rin." the words rolled off of your tongue so smoothly. You don't know where the confidence burst came from or what even made you utter the three words you've been keeping to yourself for the past nine months. They tore from your throat so easily it scared you. Your feelings were now out in the open and as much as it exited you it also teriffied you. What if that one phrase that should have never been spoken just ruined your entire friendship. Rindou didn't speak. Instead he sat up in bed and patted the spot infront of him motioning for you to sit down. You obliged sitting down with your legs crossed. The dim light perfectly illuminated his lilac eyes. Oh those eyes that made you swoon over him each time you saw them. Those eyes that kept you awake at night taunting your dreams. Those eyes that you wished you could look at every morning and every night for the rest of your life. Rindou gently grabbed your chin inching closer to you. His gaze flickered between your lips and your eyes before he finally closed the gap between you two trapping your lips in a tender and sweet kiss. It was intoxicating. That one touch alone sent electricity running through your body a million thoughts running through your head and a million emotions crashing down on you like a tidal wave. You were drunk off of just that one kiss, it was sweeter and more intoxicating that any alcohol you ahd ever tried. You couldn't get enough of it. So there you were kissing, giggling, smiling and laughing with your best friend. Well after this night he was probably something more than your best friend.

[tired-teacher-blog]

He's home

Characters : Bakugo/ Fem reader

Genre : Fluff, tooth rotting sweetness/ drabble

Summary : When he comes back home after a long day's work, you're the only one he wants to hold in his arms.

Masterlist|Second Masterlist

A dream? It almost felt like it, although the feeling of his lips on your skin has always been unmistakable, so maybe it wasn't a dream after all.

_ ".. Katsuki?" his name left your mouth in a broken whisper, one that was affected by remnants of sleep.

_ "Hey beautiful, I'm sorry I didn't mean to wake you," he was kneeling right by your side, hand gripping the couch's arm rest, "why are you sleeping here? I told you not to wait up didn't I?" he meant to scold you for not getting a proper slumber in your bed, but his soft smile and gentle voice betrayed him.

_ "I know, but I couldn't do that before seeing you first, it's.." you stopped mid sentence, eyes widening as your vision finally cleared up, "you're hurt!"

Night shifts are the worst, only the most wicked and monstrous villains enjoy roaming the streets at those late hours, and even a hero as powerful and vigorous as your boyfriend can still get harmed if he's not careful enough.

_ "I'm fine babe it's nothing." he tried to reassure you, standing back up and extending his arm out for you to hold on to and follow his lead.

You did, wordlessly squeezing his hand and walking towards the bathroom where the first aid kit was stored.

He truly wasn't badly injured, only a scratch on his forehead and a few bruises here and there, but that didn't stop you from worrying or imagining how those injuries came to be. You were lost in your own world, tracing the dark marks on his chest and arms, until a soft chuckle snapped you back to your senses.

_ "I'm truly fine y/n, though I really don't mind the extra attention." he teased, cradling your cheeks and leaning in to capture your lips in a sweet kiss.

He knows the pressure you face on a daily basis, being linked to pro hero Dynamight. The constant distress you're left with each time he's on a mission, the curious paparazzi and jealous fans you find yourself surrounded by ech time you're outside, and who crave nothing but some juicy tidbits about their favorite controversial hero.

He knows it's hard for you and it makes him feel guilty even with your constant reminders that he shouldn't.

He shouldn't, because it was a choice that you have never regretted, you simply cannot imagine being without him, the love and trust and closeness you two share will not be broken no matter what faces you.

_ "I should have been more careful I know." he sounded apologetic but that was not what you wanted, all you ever wanted was for him to be safe, and all you needed to do at that moment was to comfort him.

_ "That's alright honey, you're here now, and you're okay." you smiled tenderly as you continued disinfecting the cut on his forehead before moving to apply ice packs on his bruises.

His fingers kept caressing your sides the whole time you were tending to his injuries, it was a small gesture, but somehow soothed you both.

_ "You can hop in the shower now, I'll be waiting in bed." you kissed him again, once on the cheek and another on the neck, smiling when he obediently did as asked.

Usually, he would give you a suggestive comment like asking if you wanted to join him, but not tonight.

Tonight he wanted to curl up in bed with you, to hold you in his arms as he falls asleep..

A few minutes was all it took for him to reappear, water droplets traveling down his naked torso and disappearing into the waistband of his sweatpants.

Your eyes lingered on his godly muscles just a bit before you wordlessly held out your arms for him, and he wasted no time getting under the covers and trapping you beneath his weight.

He's heavy, almost knocking the air out of your lungs, but you wouldn't give that up for the world. He finally allowed himself a relieved sigh as he squeezed you between his arms and nuzzled your chest.

_ "How was it tonight?" you asked cautiously, unsure if he would like to share that with you, he has always preferred to leave his work matters outside the door after all, since he didn't want anything else to steal his attention away from you. Your time together is the highlight of his day, and the thought of you between his arms is what gives him strength and drives him to do his hardest so he could finally come back to you.

_ "It was fine babe, there is nothing to worry about, trust me." he whispered against your skin, tightening his hold on you.

You didn't need to hear more than that, and the giggles escaping your throat when his lips trailed feathery pecks along your neck and chest were genuine, happy, relieved.

_ "It tickles!" you ran your fingers through his damp hair before grabbing a fistful of those soft unruly locks.

_ "I love you y/n." his voice was slightly above a whisper, as he pressed his ear to your chest and listened to your steady heartbeat.

_ "I love you more Katsuki."

He was back in your arms again, so at least for tonight, you can sleep tightly knowing that he was safe, that he was with you.

[adoremexxs]

Weird idea but what if Zohakuten’s sweet S/O (the one you wrote about) gets into a fight? Like a group was picking on them in the hallway were no one could help them? And when Zohakuten decided to skip class he came across them but his S/O was beating them up. I can imagine the reader basically jumping the group like how nezuko “jumped” daki in season two. Like reader was kicking them in the ground, not letting them get up. And Zohas like “damn..😳”

this is legit one of the sanest ideas that i have got requested 😭

warnings: beating ppl up

You were in a tough situation.

These group of girls would not leave you alone for whatever reason.

They legit named themselves the bullies and it was the stupidest name ever.

You had no idea why they were deciding to harass you. Maybe you were just too pretty! That’s probably what Zohakuten would’ve said.

You just ignored them, continuing to walk around until one of them grabbed your head and slammed you into the ground.

Nuh uh. You ain’t going to let that slide!

.

.

.

Zohakuten was a bit concerned because you two were supposed to meet up and skip class together but he waited 5 minutes and already got impatient.

So he set off to go look for you! Zohakuten had heard yells and screams. He thought maybe it was some sort of banshee ghost since the area has no teachers or students. Well besides (Y/N), they should be here. It’s so deserted and he wouldn’t be surprised if it was a ghost though.

Obviously his curiosity gets the better of him. It’s not like he can’t defend himself if it was actually someone.

It was (Y/N). You were kicking the main bully’s head into the ground repeatedly. The others were passed out and this girl just wouldn’t pass out.

The girl finally got knocked out by your final and msot fatal kick to her head. You didn’t care if you got in trouble! They had been bullying you!

You wipe off your bloody hands. They were all cut up now! You’ll have to bandage them all up.

“(Y/N), what the fuck?” You whipped around to see Zohakuten’s mouth agape.

“Zoha! Hi!” You grin and hurry over to him, wrapping him in a hug. He was stunned. He couldn’t believe what he just saw. You, his sweet and nice (Y/N), beating up some group of girls for being assholes!

Your knuckles were cut up and man, he felt terrible. You were already getting out your first aid kit to bandage yourself up but Zohakuten quickly took it from you. He looked nervous.

“What’s wrong, Zohakuten?”

“I want to do it…”

.

.

.

You guys had moved to a quieter part. You also just didn’t want to be by those girls. Zohakuten’s hands were shaking as he disinfected your cuts and scratches.

“What’s wrong, Zo?”

“Nothing. Just…a little nervous to do this. Uhm…since when could you fight?” He looks up at you and you just pat his head with your free hand.

“Forever! Those girls just wouldn’t leave me alone and they started it so I beat them up.”

“…Good job, I’m proud of you.”

Zohakuten’s voice was shaky as he started to wrap your hands up. It wasn’t the best but it would do the job.

Zohakuten is praying for you to fight more so he can witness it. It’s so badass.

[cloveroctobers]

DECEMBER PROMPTS 🧊 — 4. NERON “CREEPER” VARGAS

A/N: idea inspired by a required outing for me and encouraged by @darqchilddaydreamz 🤭 this is so unserious but not at the same time? I also don’t like how I learned to appreciate creeper after the fact? This is my first time ever writing for the man with a heart of gold. Smh. Him and Coco deserved better and in AU…Creeper & Coco would be the true besties. This is also somewhat that. Enjoy!

Synopsis: As a pizza chef you’re bound to keep your house just as stocked as your restaurant. However with a ice storm heading your way in two days…you persuade your husband, Neron to take you to the store to grab just a few extra things but soon find yourself in a battle with another shopper, who doesn’t know the first thing about personal space.

ADDED PROMPTS FROM HERE + I’m using: 3.) Shopping + 6.) “You’re really making me wear matching pajamas with you?”

WARNINGS: language + “reader” is given a name but not physically described yet I always have a black or woc in mind. + a sexual/steamy moment towards the end ;)

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙

What was supposed to be more of a in and out kind of thing, turned into at least a thirty minute adventure. Sure Mariatu could blame it on the tasteful playlist the grocery store was playing—currently, “let it snow,” by Boyz II Men & Brian McPetty but she’d take the blame when she got back outside to her husband.

The original plan was to run in and get five items: a pack of mineral water full of electrolytes for Neron, a pack of cocoa powder, eggs, toilet paper rolls, and disinfectant wipes.

With the way prices are in this economy?

Mariatu knew it was probably best for Neron to run in grab everything but he suddenly got a call from Coco that had to do with business—which the founded brothers always stood on—so she did the honors of slipping out. She honestly didn’t mind, shopping was always thrilling to her because she knows regardless of what she picked up—whether she needed it or not—the items would always be put to good use. Mariatu was never one to let anything go to waste, it was something her parents always instilled.

Perhaps that’s why the carriage was getting heavier as she explored every other aisle, ending up in the international section, just for some lady to eye the contents of her carriage before settling her judgmental eyes on Mariatu. Their eyes connected but one was less friendly than the other, which was enough for Mariatu to pick up the speed. The previous aisle was more of a game of “chicken,” since one boulder of a man thought the aisle was a one way, the frozen section had one of its fridges leaking onto the floor and the constant call to, “clean up aisle 21,” seemed to go unheard, and just from entering the store a mother had to excuse herself and her screaming child who thought it would be best to start knocking over one of the displays.

Those should have been enough signs for Mariatu to do what she was supposed to do. Although the upbeat Christmas music was enough motivation to just make this a speed round, Mariatu couldn’t help that she spent longer than expected; even if she had a mental list of what they needed. Soon she found herself making a circle in the store towards the organic and produce section.

Eyeing the pomegranate seeds, Mariatu makes a bee-line for the fruit. Parking her carriage upwards from herself, she picks up the container eyeing the expiration date and then the quality of the red toned fruit. From her peripheral she sees someone leaning by the front of her carriage. She thinks not much of it figuring that they’re simply looking at a item that aligns with the end of her carriage. Silently debating over the snack for a moment longer, she opts for the larger pack instead before adding it to the carriage.

Seconds after, the handle of her carriage digs harshly into her stomach as the customer pushes their hip into the end of the carriage to reach for a bag of jumbo grapes. Mariatu blinks to herself in astonishment as the man holds the bag up to the light and moves his hips to do the same movement again!

This time Mariatu yanks on the carriage and goes around the man but not without muttering, “this is how you say excuse me,” on her way as she continues on up ahead. Eyeing the bag of baby spinach, she decides against it after grabbing a few green juices not long ago and just as she goes to push away from the section, she can hear the irritating sound of a broken carriage wheel pushing behind her.

Ever since Mariatu was a little girl she had great senses. Some may call it a gift while others maybe oblivious but she’s almost always right in judging distances and sensing presences that may or may not physically be there. In this present time as Mariatu is briefly glancing from the cart to make sure she’s not forgetting something and watching where she’s going, she can feel and hear the carriage behind her getting too close for her liking. Just as she’s reaching the corner, she peers over her shoulder to the pale as ice skinned man with a beanie that barely covers his thin salt colored hair and in that moment they come to some sort of understanding.

His shoulders relax, his lips pursed, grip still strong on the handle, he seems to slow down as his eyes connect with Mariatu’s. The side-eye game was always strong and she whips her head back, ringlets of curls bouncing with her underneath her beret as she does, a satisfying smile begins to grace her lipstick painted lips while she gets ready to turn the corner.

That’s short lived as a bump of the carriage from behind pressed into her backside first, thrashing her forward, followed by the knocking wheel which clips her ankle. A yelp escapes her lips, gaining the attention of a cashier who’s handling the handicap section and Mariatu has to exhale the steam that’s probably seeping from her eardrums.

Rubbing at the stinging skin above her ankle socks in her trainers, she glares at the older man who looks sheepish at the fact that his carriage actually interacted with his target.

“What’s your problem? You bump my carriage out of the way instead of using your manners, which you clearly lack and now you wanna play bumper cars with my ankle?” Mariatu questions the man who lifts his shoulders nonchalantly.

“I needed grapes,” the man started, “you could have done what I did and placed your carriage to the right so that way you’re not blocking other items that fellow customers need.”

Mariatu scoffs in disbelief, “well I’m not you and the proper thing to do if you need to get something is say excuse me or patiently wait until I’m done.”

“Sorry…but no?”

“No?” Mariatu felt her eye twitch and just to think, she was having a pretty solid day off, considering it was only twelve in the afternoon but still!

“Yeah,” the man continued, “you’re in my way and I have places to be too. Don’t know if you know this but a ice storm is coming and I need—

“Excuse me, I don’t give two shits what you need. Everybody that’s in here needs something, so honestly you can take that entitlement and shove it up right your ass, Mr.” Mariatu stated to the man without raising her voice but her brows definitely did, which means she meant that shit, “and happy holidays.”

With that she sorta limps from the man, enjoying that she had the last say and that his presence was no longer felt as he scrambles to go to one of the other aisles instead of to the self-check out area, which Mariatu was headed to.

Mariatu braced herself heading back into the breezy sixty degree weather, slowly letting out a sigh to herself as she crossed through the parking lot. She spots Neron waiting outside of her bronco and jumps into action as he looks up in time. “Ten minutes huh?” He teases with a shake of his head as he unlocks the trunk.

She scrunches her nose at him as they maneuver around the cart, taking turns adding the bags into the back. It doesn’t take Neron long to pick up on the way Mariatu is walking different once they get down to the the last few bags. “What’s up?” He asks.

Mariatu shakes her head as Neron points at her leg, “I’ll tell you in the car.”

The hoodie wearing man dips his head and takes the task of bringing the carriage back to its spot after opening the door for Mariatu. Neron doesn’t miss a certain man looking over in his wife’s direction as Neron crosses the parking lot one more. Once he gets into the driver’s seat, it’s Neron’s turn to have his eyes in slits as the strange man starts tossing his bags into his station wagon.

“That man with the pedophile car…you know ‘em?”

Mariatu hums, looking up from her phone to follow Neron’s trail and immediately scoffs, “oh yeah, we got friendly not too long ago. That’s the man who tried to run me over after I told him he basically needs to learn some manners.”

Neron flicks his eyes to his right, “what happened?” He pressed and Mariatu has no issue giving her husband the quick rundown of what just occurred.

He’s rubbing at his lengthy beard in slight irritation but also pride. “Put your seatbelt on,” he commands and Mariatu tilts her head to the side at this.

However the hardened stare Neron shoots her way and then back out the window shield was enough for her to listen this time. The tatted man places one hand on the steering wheel, tightening his grip and sitting up straight—which was always enough indication that someone was about to float their ride…so Mariatu braced herself.

Rightfully so.

As soon as she blinked, they were across the parking lot blocking the man’s path from completely backing out from the parking space.

“Neron,” Mariatu hissed as he pressed his brimmed hat further down on his head then flung the door open, leaving it wide open as he walked in between the cars to get to the man’s driver’s side, knocking on his window.

Mariatu couldn’t exactly hear what Neron was saying to the strange man as he was crouched over, talking to him in a manner that would send a chill down anyone’s spine. Her heart rate picked up as she saw Neron reach into the rolled down window, possibly snatching the man up by the throat and then shoving him forward that his horn announced his face made contact with it.

With that Neron sniffs as he turns back to the bronco, holding a bag now as he climbs back into the driver’s seat. He plops the bag of grapes into Mariatu’s lap and says, “Poe Cramer sends his apologizes. Eat up.”

“Neron, what did you do that for? I thought I told you that I handled it.” Mariatu brings her eyes up from the fruit in her lap to the profile of her husband’s face who begins driving through the parking lot.

Neron dips his head, “and I’m proud of you, Cariño. But he assaulted you so I returned the favor. Roughed him up a bit, he’s lucky that’s all he got and that’s out of respect for my lady being somewhat a witness…that I didn’t take it further. got his name from his license—just in case you run into him again and he decides to start some more shit but I doubt it. I clocked his ass—that’s all. No harm, no foul.”

“I can’t,” Mariatu snorts resting a hand against her edges, “I love you and I don’t need you locked up before Christmas.”

“I’m just contributing to society so I know Santa would forgive me,” Neron shrugs with a slow smirk appearing on his lips.

Mariatu laughs, “Oh that’s what you want to call it?” Before kicking her ankle up and over her opposite knee to examine, “don’t know why some people get so shitty during the holiday season, especially if you didn’t do anything wrong to them! They just feel like it’s okay to take it out on strangers. Like? What you say fuck me for?”

“You don’t even gotta worry about him no more, trust me,” Neron laughs at the joke, “you good though?”

Mariatu nods reaching over to feed Neron a grape before pecking his cheek, “always with you by my side, baby.”

“Likewise,” Neron winks over at the woman he was ecstatic to call his wife, resting the palm of his hand on her thigh.

Back in the gated, yes gated! suburbs of their coastal mobile home after unloading and packing the groceries, the married couple made it their mission that today would be a easy day. They rarely had days off at the same time so Neron and Mariatu wanted to take advantage of this with Mariatu persuading Neron to go shopping today rather than putting it off for the busiest day—Saturday. Now they had the rest of the day just to be up in each others faces, spending quality time together.

She’s in the bathroom, tending to her night time skin routine, already solidifying they were in for the rest of the day, while Neron’s perched on the edge of the bed tuned into the weather channel. The bathroom door’s wide open as Neron says, “you know your pa is trying to get coco and I to come out to Wyoming, huh?”

Mariatu frowns, “that’s where he snuck off to? The hell is he doing out there?”

The woman knew exactly what her father was doing out there. He made it a mission to travel more after the lost of his wife three years ago but…Wyoming? Really? Very Kanye coded but a lot less unhinged.

“Starting a new business adventure. Plans to do something either with construction or a food truck for a rest stop…he’s weighing his options based on how those meetings go.” Neron informed, “he sounds real determined and said he’ll keep me posted while also sending his love to you.”

Neron and Johnny had their own business together that consisted of mechanics and all things restoration, computers and guns, you name it! After things went terribly south (she often found it hard at times that they both made it out alive) with the club, they figured this would be their best option and Mariatu couldn’t be more supportive of the two. In whatever way she was often confused on her father bringing up his multiple business ideas to her husband and good friend. Neron and Coco seemed quite comfortable making their roots here and not all over the place like her father commonly did.

Yet of course she understood networking being a business owner herself…she just couldn’t picture Neron or Johnny elsewhere now that they were secure here and out of the tainted Santo Padre.

Mariatu rolls her eyes at this, loving how Neron threw that in there but she knew this was true with the way her father’s brain was constantly running with ideas. He’s always been a hardworking, successful man but he also didn’t know when to slow down. He was getting older and it’s like Mariatu was always fighting to have time with him, she valued that considering the lost of her mother but perhaps this was all his way of grieving?

You tend to do that sometimes at the end of the year they say.

“Will he back for Christmas? Kwanzaa, maybe?”

Neron wouldn’t lie and he knew how important Mariatu’s relationship was with her parents, which he did not receive personally but he always had his sisters so he understood to some degree, “he didn’t say honey but I’m sure he’ll try.”

“Right,” Mariatu is quiet for some time before starting up her spin brush again for a few minutes before rinsing her face and continuing the rest of her work.

The room is thicker now with Mariatu’s inner feelings about it all but Neron knows not to push it. They were similar in that way, holding everything in but Mariatu was better in letting it out when she was ready while Neron struggled with his own issues of people not hearing him when he did speak. However he knew not to feel that way with his wife, they confided in each other countless of times and felt seen being vulnerable with each other. It’s what drove them forward through the hardships.

Neron’s not sure how long he’s dazed off but a pair of pants smack across his face, followed by a snort of laughter that belonged to no other than his wife. He blinks, gripping onto the printed pants and scowls as he eyes the same print that Mariatu is sporting. Except her’s are shorts and he gets to eye her smooth legs in them.

Licking his lips Neron rubs at his beard, fighting to keep his thoughts clean as she slips a printed long sleeve set over her camisole, “You’re really making me wear matching pajamas with you?”

“Uh huh,” Mariatu nods her head with a smile, “we’ll be cozy and cute.”

Neron mumbles, “And lookin’ like the elves on the fucken shelf.”

Mariatu cackles as Neron shakes his head in disagreement. She stands before him, resting her hands across his shoulders, massaging them while staring down into his tense but loving brown eyes. Neron doesn’t hesitate to wrap his solid tatted arms around her waist, while she gets comfortable locking her legs right around his hips so they’re face to face now.

“I think you need a little more persuading and a thank you.”

“A thank you?” Neron ponders as Mariatu nuzzles her nose against the man’s, who breathes her in.

Mariatu pecks his lips, then trails those kisses along his jaw and up to his large ear, whispering, “for always looking out for me and especially for today. Will you let me take care of you?”

She can feel Neron shudder against her and she knew that Neron just wanted to be loved in return for the love that he gave out. Mariatu had no problem providing that and the confirmation of his fingertips digging into her waist was all she needed to make their lips collide. The scratch of his beard against her chin, the weight of her clung to his body, the force of shoving him back against the sheets, scrape of her stiletto nails that greeted his skin briefly as she helped him out of his tops, kissing of his wounds that were buried beneath his tats, the trick of her tongue against the round of his raised flesh which contained a hooped piercing that always evoked a breathy moan from his lips, the teasing and pleasing to his lower region with only her mouth was enough to bring joy right out of Neron’s heart.

Mariatu took the reigns but Neron couldn’t let that slide without getting his hands on her in the way he wanted and the way they both needed as well. A shower and clean up routine later, both now sporting red festive wear, they’re lounging against the headboard together, container of pomegranate seeds placed in between them while the skies in San Didacus continue filling in with a gray haze.

Neron and Mariatu both meet each other’s eyes after the dark haired man settled on, one of his favorites, “Krampus,” (2015) after finding one of the cheesy romantic Christmas movies to be too corny for their tastes.

“Ready to keep the festive spirit going?” Neron asks, wrist draped over Mariatu’s shoulder while she curls into him, leg tossed over his torso.

Mariatu covers her yawn, “yeah I am, I don’t know about you but I don’t want any demons hunting this house, especially once some kids come along.”

“Nah, krampus don’t got nothin’ on me.” Neron tells with a grin, “he better ask Poe and check my resume.”

“I haven’t even seen that resume.”

“I’m keepin’ it that way. Like I said when we took those vows, you don’t got to worry about nothing on that end. Just the restaurant and the good parts of life that we’re building together only.” Neron reassured in which Mariatu nodded with a smile.

Neron leans forward capturing Mariatu’s lips in a brief kiss before brushing his lips against her forehead then tunes back into the movie.

One thing is true, this holiday, equally the pair hopes this season brings further blessings to their table after growing what they both went through. The little moments mean just as much as the big ones and when they frequently stare into each other’s eyes…maybe in the end they can always say that’s the best gift the universe could have ever gave them.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙

Continue the rest of my~5 days of Xmas~December anthology prompts here.