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[heavenbarnes]

I used to date an older guy (like mid 40s) a few years back and I always got stupidly turned on when he fixed stuff around his house?? Like, he just knew hot to do it and did it. No googling, just him and his tools. Feel like it would fit somewhere in your older bf Simon stuff.

god love a fully capable “fuck it i’ll do it” type of man 🫶🏼

you know that your older bf!simon doesn’t believe in hiring tradespeople for a service.

“why would i pay someone to fuck about in my home?”

“they’re not fucking about, si! they’d be fixing the sink”

“i’ll do it”

you have no doubt that simon was more than capable of fixing things around the house but you also wanted him relaxing when he was home.

turns out he couldn’t relax at the thought of another man doing something for you.

so you let him do it, you threw your hands up and waved your white tea towel in defeat as you heard him banging around in the garage for tools.

hearing the faint sounds of grunting and the occasional swear word coming from the bathroom, you thought it might pay to go and see how he was getting on.

fucking hell.

simon was on his back, arms stretched up above him as his hands dwarfed the pipe they were wrapped around. t-shirt riding up, lines of his stomach leading right to his belt, knees bent and boots firmly planted on the floor, you could honestly just-

“oi, you gonna’ stare or help me?”

now how the fuck?

“your heads in the cupboard, how did you know-“

“i always know where you are, pass me the wrench”

crouching down beside him, you handed it over and stayed down there to watch him work. scarred knuckles wrapped around the handle of the tool, other palm flat against the base of the sink so you could see the veins.

he was something else entirely.

“how d’you know how to do all this?”

“taught m’self, come hold this”

you reached over to replace where his palm was so he could have both hands back. “but why? surely other people don’t learn all this?”

“other people don’t care about their sweet’art not having to lift a finger- move your finger for me”

the more you stretched to hold the sink, the more you felt yourself losing traction with it. naturally, simon noticed before you did.

“y’need to get closer, cm’ere”

tools landing to the side of him, two large hands plucked you up till you were dropped in his lap. precarious situation but you couldn’t deny the sink was a lot easier to reach.

you stayed like that, letting simon work in peace as you enjoyed your view. honestly, he could invite you to the end of the world and you’d just be happy to hold his hand.

one hand splayed out on his chest, the other holding the sink, you suddenly felt a tickle forming at the end of your nose. before you knew it, you were pulling your hand back to scratch it- the one holding the sink.

you panicked, realising it could very well land on simon’s head. but it didn’t, it stayed completely still. face screwing up, you leant in again to give the sink a nudge only to find out it was totally fixed.

“what the hell, si? why’d you have me doing all that?”

you saw the smirk on his face as he flashed a look over at you. suddenly, you realised you weren’t the only one enjoying the view.

the hand that didn’t have the wrench came out to give you a pat on the side of your hip.

“c’mon sweet’art, i can’t get anything outta’ this?”

[pseudowho]

Motherhood had altered your 'turn-ons'; not that you lusted after mankind as a whole-- Kento was enough.

His cologne, split with the smooth tang of sweat on work-ripened skin. His hands, alternately gentle and rough, peach-handling or blade-wielding. The authority only the world saw; the authority only you felt.

Dressed-up, dressed-down, undressed, dressing you down, undressing you. Breaking you only to reform you with gold, tied with red thread, whispering you to completion in the dark sacred night.

So (you corrected yourself, as you watched Kento jog after your daughter at the indoor play centre) motherhood had not altered your turn-ons; it had added to them. Stacking high now, you considered the tower of your adoration was just as likely to be stable, as unstable; its endurance or toppling entirely at Kento's mercy.

The arrival at soft-play was a sensory nightmare-- one of many you could tolerate as a mother when you wouldn't have, before.

Obnoxious children's music blared, cut by screams and shouts and cries and calls and whirls and swirls of kids darting and weaving, watched and unwatched, by helicopters or the disinterested. The cocktail was potent, spiked. Your headache started behind your left eye.

Kento saw you. He was unfairly loaded at his own insistence, with change-bag and snack-bag and car keys and your daughter, planking and chattering, a possessed surfboard beneath his arm.

"Sit down-- have a coffee." Kento rumbled, low and slow, unclipping his watch into your cupped hands as you began to argue. "You've had her all week. You need a break."

"You've been at work all week, Kento, you need a break--"

"Don't argue. You know it's not the same. Sit down. Have a coffee."

He lied to you for your benefit; you could feel the bone-deep weariness of him, surely needing a day of sofa-bound naps over a day of childrearing. Alas; parenthood. And he would continue to take bullets for you, even to his own detriment. You knew this. You had planned ahead for this.

As you peered down at your phone, smiling at an eagerly awaited reply, your daughter piped up, bouncing on little toes, her pigtails bouncing too.

"'lide, daddy. Let's go fast. Faster. Race you."

Kento hummed, smiling. "Slide, you mean?"

"I said it. 'lide." Your daughter moved to dart to the towering play area, a flash of lightning into a maelstrom, and you caught her. Kento was distracted, looking into the swarm of other peoples' children, oddly, as he looked at a swarm of Curses. You whispered into your daughters' ear as Kento slipped his boots off.

"Hey, missus, listen."

Your baby girl perked up, sweet and conspiratorial, goofy-teethed and dimple-cheeked, whispering back.

"What is it, mummy?"

"I've got a surprise for daddy. So don't tell him...come here, mummy needs to whisper."

Lips at an ear; tiny hands clasping over a mouth, fizzlepopping with excitement. A long finger against lips; a little finger against lips. A secret pact.

"Are you ready, young lady? I'll get you in three...two..."

Kento reached down for your daughter, his hands clawed, a wolfish grin on his lips. Your daughter knew what it meant; she shrieked with panicked laughter, bolting. The monster formerly known as 'Daddy' dashed after her.

The coffee was shit; you didn't mind, instead hyperfocused on how Kento and your daughter would dip out of sight into the rainbow maze, only to reappear minutes later, with Kento looking more ravaged each time.

On the first loop round, Kento looked unfazed, unruffled, still clipped in his t-shirt and jeans. You simply admired the sultry half-smile he offered you, and the cling of fabric to his thick biceps, before he swept after your daughter again.

On the fifth loop round, flicks of hair escaped over Kento's forehead, the veins on his arms prominent from throwing and tumbling and monstering. He panted, his muscle so much heavier to carry than your birdlike daughter's personal load. Kento's playful growl, running after your giggling daughter, was deeper; huskier. You squirmed, sipping your shit latte.

On the eleventh loop round, a fine sheen of sweat misted Kento's forehead, a flush dashed on high cheekbones. His broad chest heaved, and he stretched his arms back, cracking his neck from side-to-side, with a groan usually heard only when he exerted himself above you, for less wholesome pleasures.

With furrowed brows, Kento prowled the bottom of the slide, and your daughter shrieked, scrabbling to get away from him as he lunged. Your daughter was bicep-curled up to Kento's face, laughing uproariously at his ferocious tummy-raspberries, before being set free, once more, for the hunt. You could not cope, aching, desperately hoping you had the energy left to sweat for him at the end of the day.

By the twenty-first? twenty-third? twenty-fifth? loop round, Kento jogged to a heavy halt, his shoulder blades taut as he bent double, hands braced against his own knees. You heard him panting, cursing under his breath, one long rusty groan. It was all too much-- Kento needed a break. You were unhinged and unsupervised. Surely there had to be some relief--

"Yo, Mrs.Nanamin! Am I late?"

A vision in peach, Yuuji flopped into the chair opposite you, with hands in his pockets and man-spread with a square-jawed, boyish grin. He stood taller than Kento, now, a full-grown man...but still shrunk beneath Kento's chastisement and lectures.

"Right on time, Yuuji. Are you sure you don't mind? It's all a bit..." You looked into the raucous soft-play, searching for words, "...feral."

Yuuji beamed, ruffling his own hair and kicking his shoes off. "Nah. I was gonna go to the gym anyway, but this seems more fun as workouts go."

You called out to your daughter as she reached the bottom of the slide, and Kento looked up, sweating and exhausted. "Baby! Your big brother's here!"

A gasp of thrill from your daughter, and Kento was all but forgotten by her as she pelted towards Yuuji instead, leaping into his arms. She slapped his scrunched cheeks, aggressively overjoyed.

"Big brother-- big brother-- big brother--"

"Yeah yeah, little sister, little sister-- c'mon squirt, I'm gonna getcha! Hey-- Dad--- uh, Nanamin! Gotta go!"

Kento watched his children run away with dewy eyes, his body still thickened by exercise and heavy breaths. You bit your lip as Kento approached, eyes half-lidded as you drank him in. You watched his Adam's apple bob as he gulped back water and gasped, husky with relief.

"God, I love that boy." Kento rumbled.

You melted to see Yuuji reach the bottom of the slide with your daughter on his lap. "Yeah...me too."

"He's saved my life...three times, now."

You laughed, your eyes dipped, tugging Kento to you by the hem of his t-shirt and beckoning him down with one curled finger.

"Think you'll still have some energy later?" You whispered, your breaths mingling with promise.

Kento's eyes narrowed, glimmering, his nose kissing yours. "For that? Always."

[madaqueue]

SUCK HIS...GLOCK?!

the sensationalized bullshit around some dangerous serial killer tormenting the city is honestly pathetic. so no, you don't see the point in changing your routine, because you aren't a coward like everyone else. that is, until one wrong turn brings you face to face with him.

pairing: serial killer!toji x f!reader

themes/content: dark content (gunplay, dubcon). smut. petnames (pretty, doll, slut), mentions of past murders, teasing, reader is kind of mean to toji lmao, begging, licking/deepthroating a gun, oral (m!receiving). 18+, MDNI (wk: 2.0k)

a/n: i would match his freak (he would literally kill me) (also sorry this title is so stupid but it made me laugh hahahaha)

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“There’s a serial killer on the loose!”

Everyday for the past week the message had been drilled into your mind - every news station, every text from your parents, every thought from the general public seemed to vibrate in sheer terror at the mere idea of some illusive murderer. And yet, you can’t help but roll your eyes at the theatrics.

A serial killer, seriously?

You thought everyone outgrew this overdramatic bullshit when they turned thirteen or something. The fact that not even fully grown adults dared to go outside out of fear just solidified how truly pathetic everyone had become.

So, you take the opportunity for what it is, boots echoing along the empty streets as you enjoy a barren town. Dead leaves blow along the sidewalk in front of you, scurrying out of your path. It’s a nice day, you think, the breeze tickling your skin and the sun warm despite the autumn chill settling in. Of course you weren’t going to miss it, your footsteps falling louder and more determined with each step.

Because you weren’t a coward.

A particularly cold wind brushes past you, the muscles in your legs shivering on instinct. Reaching into your jacket to check the time, you find your pockets empty save for a few hair ties and a small wad of cash. The image of your phone resting on your kitchen counter flashes across your memory for a moment as you silently grumble at your own forgetfulness.

But it’s no matter, you’ll just head straight home. Everything will be fine, you reassure yourself in an effort to shove down the growing nervousness in your stomach.

Rounding the corner, your vision catches an alleyway you’ve seen a few times on walks home with friends. Surely, that would get you home even faster, a real stroke of fate. Your feet stall for a second as you gaze down it, the darkness of surrounding buildings casting a haunting shadow. Taking a steadying breath, you will yourself forward.

Because you aren’t a coward.

Shoving your hands further into the worn material of your pockets, your shoes land heavily on the uneven cobblestone. A water droplet falls on your shoulder from one of the broken pipes overhead, and you grimace. This town gets shittier every year. That pit in your stomach is back, but sheer determination carries you onward.

Because you aren’t afraid.

In an instant, the sigh that had been building in your lungs is forced out as your cheek is shoved into the crumbling brick lining the alley.

Rough hands encircle your wrists, pinning them against your back.

The weight of someone much larger presses into you from behind.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ walkin’ all by yourself?” His voice is almost impossibly low, carrying the teasing lilt of thunder before lightning. “Haven’t you heard there’s a serial killer running around?”

The rock in your stomach lodges in your throat as he laughs, hot puffs of air hitting your neck.

Trying to gauge your odds, you crane your head to get a view of him, roughly scraping your skin against the reddened clay. Just as your eyes manage to catch the dark cloth of his shirt, something presses to your forehead.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, doll,” he preempts. The gun in his hand trails lower, landing between your eyes, the cool metal making you shudder. “I would hate to have to hurt ya.”

Your mouth is dry as ideas course through your mind, running through scenarios to escape this fucked up situation you’ve found yourself in. “I-I have money! You can have it, if you let me go!”

He just chuckles again, and you swear you see a glimpse of a scar at the corner of his lips, adding it to a mental note of anything to help you identify him later. “Oh sweetheart, you can’t actually think I’m doing this for the money, do you?”

Your thoughts stall for a moment. “B-but…but why then…?”

Leaning towards you, his face is now only inches from your own. The scent of tobacco lingers on his breath. “Because I like to see the fear in someone’s eyes when they know they’re gonna die.”

You can’t stop the smirk spreading across your lips. You know it’s stupid - you shouldn’t taunt the fucking murderer holding a gun to your head - but you almost want to laugh.

“Seriously?” Your throat is scratchy as you stifle a chuckle. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

This time, he doesn’t stop you when you turn to face him.

“What, are you making eye contact with every single person you kill? You have a fucking gun, dude - are you really sitting there, this close, waiting for them to die? Or is that just some line you say to make people afraid, to try and make them beg for mercy?”

That scar shifts as his mouth twitches. Just as he inhales to respond, you continue.

“Oh, I get it! I bet that’s what you get off on, right? The begging?”

His eyebrows quirk, adjusting his position so green eyes stare back at you, mischief dancing behind them. “What if it is? Are you gonna beg me not to kill you if I tell ya that’s what it takes?”

The silver of his gun catches in the flickering sun as your gaze falls upon it. You look to it, then to him, then back to it.

Now, you know what it really takes to get you out of this. Because at the end of the day, he’s just some guy who got a weapon and a bit too much confidence. Sure, maybe he killed those people, but it’s only because they were too stupid to figure it out.

Men like him don’t want some pathetic little bug to crush under their shoe. If he did, he would’ve shot you already.

He wants someone to tell him ‘no,’ to shove around his ego a little. Someone to play with him.

Oh, and you’ll play.

Because you, unlike all those other scared little babies, aren’t a coward.

“I don’t have to fucking beg.”

Green eyes shine like poison as they watch your movements - your neck tilting, lips parting, tongue poking between them. Licking a slow stripe up the barrel of his gun, the taste of metal and dirt coats your senses.

When you reach the top, he lets out a groan, one that morphs into a breathy laugh.

“Well, isn’t today just my lucky day.” His scar delves into the creases of his mouth as he smirks. “Wonder what good deed I did to be rewarded with such a pretty little slut.”

Fucking pathetic.

You want to laugh at him, the predictability - it’s almost overused at this point, you think. The scary serial killer who just wants to get his dick wet, you’re practically quaking in your boots.

But instead of pointing out how boring his whole cliche is, you allow your eyelashes to flutter closed, taking the chamber further past your lips.

It’s cool against the heat of your mouth, tracing the crevices of it with your tongue.

You wonder if this is actually what he used to kill all those people - it almost tastes too clean to be a true murder weapon. Like he ran it through the mud on his way here to try and make his little act seem all the more convincing. Clearly, it didn’t work.

From behind, you feel something poke into your ass. Something hard. Using his weight to push you further into the bricks, his hips grind against you, his growing cock dragging along the curves of your body.

You gasp reflexively at the sensation, eyes shooting open only to be met with his locked on your face, dark hair falling over his forehead.

“Some fuckin’ mouth on you, heh.” It’s like you can watch the gears turning in his mind. “Let’s see what else it can do.”

Sensation begins returning to your wrists when they’re released from his bruising grip. It takes nothing more than a heavy palm on your head for you to land on your knees, rubble shifting beneath your jeans.

All too predictable.

With your newly freed hands, you make quick work of undoing his belt, tugging his waistband down to reveal his cock. It’s thick, flushed and hot in the cold autumn air.

From this angle, you can see the way he sparkles against the sky. Excitement vibrates his nerves as he leans forward, resting a forearm along the brick above your head. The muzzle’s cold metal presses into your temple, but it barely even phases you at this point, melting into the warmth of your skin.

You lick your lips at the way he twitches, watching you drag your palms up his thighs. One hand slowly wraps around his base as you place his tip between your lips, and the man above you moans.

You almost, almost, let a giggle slip.

Isn’t he supposed to be the one threatening to kill you?

And now, you’ve literally got his balls in one hand, the pistol in his fist dropped to his side.

Fucking hell, is this really all it took?

Some serial killer.

You continue pumping his length as you lightly lick the precum pooling along his slit, letting the salty taste linger on your tastebuds. Whatever, you’ll do what you have to do to get out of this.

But it’s not a crime to have a little fun with him, right?

Your tongue swirls around his tip before you take him further, pushing past the ring of muscles lining your throat. He lets out a choked gasp of, “Fuck,” and the rasp in his voice almost makes your pussy clench. Almost.

Taking him deeper and deeper, you can tell he’s getting close from the way he’s starting to thrust his hips forward, little by little.

But now, it’s your turn to play with him.

Pulling your mouth away, you admire the way his cock bounces as he whines at the loss of your warmth.

This time, you don’t stifle your smirk.

The palm wrapped around his base continues stroking him slowly, almost too slowly.

“W-what the fuck do you think yer-”

“Beg.”

His parted lips nearly fold into a frown, eyebrows furrowed in some mix of confusion and frustration. But you didn’t stutter.

“C’mon now, mister ‘serial killer.’ If you wanna cum, you know what you’ve gotta do.”

Sliding up and down his base, you pump him in pace with his ragged breaths.

Between his ribs, his heart races. “Y’know I could fucking kill you.”

And your eyes glimmer, your pace slowing. A silent challenge.

But you won’t.

He tosses his head back, the muscles in his thick neck contracting as he swallows.

“F-fucking - fine. Jesus, fine, whatever.”

Shifting your weight, your thighs rub together in excitement. The silver of his gun flashes as he raises it to his head, scratching the back of his scalp with the muzzle in an attempt to diffuse the growing tension inside him.

“Make me finish already, doll.”

“Aww,” you coo, squeezing his heavy balls in your free hand. A shiver runs up his spine. “That’s not exactly asking, now is it?”

He hides his pleasure behind annoyance as he groans. “Just - fucking, make me cum already.” You bat your eyelashes at him, and he grumbles something under his breath. “Please.”

“See, was that so hard?” you hum, pleased. “Even serial killers can have some manners.”

Taking him back into your mouth, you trace the veins of his shaft with your tongue, just as you did with the barrel of his gun. Each ridge, following its path up and down.

Something metal clammors onto the ground behind you, but you pay it little mind. Two hands wrap around your head, holding you in place.

“Fuck, just like that,” he moans. “Fuckin’ take it.”

His balls twitch as he releases into you, hot liquid pouring down your throat.

As you swallow, the palms on your scalp release their tension. Looking up at him with wide eyes, you wipe the spit from the corners of your mouth.

He rubs his face with his forearm, a smirk plastered across his lips, that cute little scar decorating the corner. Beside you, something reflective catches your eye - his gun, laying abandoned on the ground.

Some fucking serial killer.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hello, Congratulations on the 5k follows!!

I discovered this fandom a few months ago and have been living for your writing ever since.

I was thinking as a drabble of the taskforce gentlemen coming home at the crack of dawn from a long mission and seeing their spouse's hand, limp on the ground peeking out from the side of the couch. All the panic and worry going thru their heads, so much bubbling up, horrible scenarios. They rush over and find you sleeping on the floor. The power had gone out last night and the hardwood floor was the coolest place to be (you didn't want to open the window because you know how they worry), so you were watching stuff on your phone and drifted off. Crisis averted!

Thank you for your time 💜

—Wide-Eyed Panic

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Why were you behind the couch?] ❞

I’ll start by saying all of them would be concerned and immediately go into panic mode—why were you behind the couch? Why was your hand sticking out? Why, in God's name, were you not moving? Cue the horrible thoughts and flashes of what went on in their work lives.

John Price ➺

John entered the house with a sigh, slipping off his boots as the door was closed and deftly locked behind him. Grunting under his breath, the man rubs over his face, the lights off as he calls out with a tired grumble to his voice. 

“I’m back,” his voice echoes, the tone moving through the darkness far louder than it should have. There’s no answer. “Love…?” Pausing, John blinks slowly at the wall, ear twitching to the utter silence of the home. No water in the pipes. No buzzing of electricity. No you. Eyes rising, they dart around quickly as his finger moves out to the light switch. A small push elicits nothing, just as he thought. The power was out. 

Dread slowly creeps into John’s chest.

Hand reaching behind his back, the man’s fingers inch over the smooth metal of a pistol, grasping the weapon before he begins walking forward. He keeps silent, feet moving to where he knows the wood won't creak. 

His mind runs. 

Why was the power off? Where were you? Why didn’t you respond—were you hurt? John’s mind goes to blood and bullets, his jaw clenching tightly as the pistol comes out to rest in front of him; hands shifting the grip as he takes a soothing breath. Panicking wouldn’t help anyone, but it would be pointless to lie about how his heart hammers. 

“Fuck,” he growls, eyes going tight. 

That’s when he sees it. Blue eyes widen sharply. 

“Love!” John shouts, all other concerns about intruders meaningless to him. Your hand was sticking out from behind the couch, a dark shadow in the low light. He rushes over as you jerk, yelling in alarm as he rushes to grab you, pulling you up into his arms and pulling you away into the closet across the room.

“John!” You blink rapidly as you’re set back against the wall. 

“Shush now,” he grunts, eyes panicked. “Keep awake, let me look.” A hand moves all over your body, searching and pulling at clothes to touch the skin for any wounds. “Tell me where it hurts, then. Quickly. We have to move—”

“John, what the hell,” you push at him, moving him back. Your eyes try to adjust to being so rudely awakened at such an hour. “What are you doing?!”

You weren’t hurt. 

The Captain’s face pulls in with confusion, back against the closet door and now in more darkness than ever before. He can barely make out your face before you sigh and put your hands against his arms. 

Things begin to calm down as his hand rests at your hip, nearly tight enough to bruise. In his other is the gun just before you put your hand to it and softly peel the item away from him—putting it on the shelf that you know is to your left. 

Hands find John’s cheeks as he pants.

“John,” you say his name again. “...what happened.”

“Why were you on the ground?” He forces out firmly, voice a low grunt. “Why were the lights not—”

“The power went out for everyone, okay?” You speak slowly, rubbing your thumbs over his beard. “It was on the news. I didn’t open a window because I knew you would worry about that—the floor was cool and it was getting too hot in here.” 

Your mind tells you to explain quickly and fluently. You move forward and press your forehead into John’s as he sags with a great exhalation of breath—his arms circling you tightly until your spine might crack. 

He doesn’t speak for a long while, just holding you.

“Scared me,” he mutters, missing you deeply on the forehead, speaking into your skin. “Fuck, you scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

He keeps you to his chest, eyes fluttering shut and his spine hunching over you, fingers splayed over your back. You run your hands through his hair and calm the swelling of your heart.

You can feel his pulse mirroring your own.

Simon Riley ➺

When he sees your hand, he freezes. 

Simon wasn’t a stranger to the lights being off in the home—you opted for lamps and low light more often than not; this wasn’t new. He had only quirked a brow when he came home to the pitch-blackness, off from his recent deployment and eager for a warm bed to fall into. He admits he’d let himself calm down on the car ride home—your home was where he could relax and release tension until it became as unimportant as an ant on the pavement. 

But when he’d closed the door silently behind him and walked the few steps it would take to enter the living room, where he was sure you were still up either reading or watching something on your phone under a blanket, his body had stiffened immediately. 

Your hand sticking out from behind the couch. Limp. 

Lifeless.  

He’d been staring at it for only a few seconds before the memories came back—the ones of gore splattered to the walls and ceiling of an old flat back in Manchester. 

Simon’s thoughts had hit him like a bullet.

Not again.

Rushing forward like a bear, the man slips along the hardwood as his knees go down, shaking the home at the force at which he grabs at your body and flips you from your side to your back. 

You gasp awake and instinctually throw out a fist, connecting with a stone chest as you hiss and blink in panic. 

Fingers ruthlessly dig into your shoulders, wide brown eyes open, and…and afraid. 

“Simon?” You mutter softly, all fear in your heart is squished in an instant. 

The man breathes through wheezes, balaclava fabric moving from the force of his breaths. His fingers are shaking, blinking as his head jerks to look your lying form up and down swiftly. 

You hesitantly put a hand on his cheek and he flinches before nuzzling into it. 

“Don’t…” he takes a quivering breath into his lungs, and after, loosens his grip on your skin. Simon’s hands go to your waist, dragging you up and stapling you to his chest. “Don’t do that again.”

His voice is low. Vulnerable. 

You blink, hands holding him back on the floor. 

“...The power went out,” you try to explain only half of it softly, muffled by his neck. 

He only holds you harder, eyes open and blankly staring at the floor a foot away.

Johnny MacTavish ➺

Johnny hums a song under his breath, hanging his keys on the hook near the door.

“Dearie!” He calls to you loudly, itching at the side of his head and chuckling. “Don’t run too fast to me now, I’m all yours for two w—”

The light switch is moved by his finger, but no light illuminates his path to the living room. Pausing in the entrance, the man’s brows furrow tightly, speech cutting off like scissors to paper. 

“...eeks?” Johnny ends his sentence, turning back around to look at the switch in confusion. “The hell’s going on with that?” He mutters to himself, a frown growing on his face before he refocuses on his mission to find you—now with the added task of figuring out why the power was out in the house. 

“Swear,” the man grumbles, huffing while he runs a hand over his face, “if those kids down the street did something I’ll be livid. Little devils, I swear.” 

Johnny steps farther into the living room, glancing around. 

“Dearie?” He pauses, listening before calling out your name. “Where’s she off to?”

He sighs softly, wanting to hold you now that he’s home to do so—squeeze you in his arms and take in your scent again; he’d missed you immensely while he was away.

Johnny came across your hand sticking out from behind the couch by accident, moving to make his way into your bedroom thinking that you were sleeping. He sees an odd shape in the blackness and pauses, feet slowing to a stop. 

When he notices that it’s a hand—your hand, he doesn’t even realize that he’s completely gripped the side of the couch and wrenched it back until the scratch of the wood floors screams in his ears. 

You wake up to hands on your cheeks, sharp yelling, and your head being shaken up and down until you’re conscious. 

“Dearie, hey! What the fuck,” the last sentence is growled on fast lips. “What the fuck.”

Your hands slap to Johnny’s wrists, nails digging in. 

He breathes out quickly, looking into your eyes to look for dilation as the darkness forces him closer. “There we are, tell me where you’re hurting, now, yeah? Did you hit your head? Let me take a look. It’s okay, I’ll get you all fixed up, there’s no need to worry.”

“Hey!” Your hands push at his, trying to shove the brick wall away from you. “Quit it! Johnny! I’m fine! ”

The man pauses at your animated movements, blinking rapidly before his grip loosens. 

When it’s obvious that you’re perfectly fine, he moves back and groans, thumb and forefinger digging into his nose bridge. 

“Hell’s bells, Hen.” You glare, panting on the floor before you push yourself up. 

“‘Hell’s bells’, me?” Johnny’s head plops to your shoulder. “You just shook me like a fucking rabbit!” 

“Scared the shite out of me, you terror.” The man huffs. “Need to put a heart monitor on you.”

“Piss off,” you sigh, putting a hand to your chest to feel the pace of your pulse and the blood that runs furiously.

Johnny, moments later as he’s still resting on your shoulder, starts…laughing. Low at first, then gaining noise the more it goes unchecked—a deep rumble into chest-jerking amusement. You look down at him, the couch tilted and long scratches over the floor. Pausing, you blink at his shaking shadow before your lungs start quivering. The two of you bend over one another with shared, house-shaking laughter. 

“What the fuck were you doin’ behind the damn couch?” Johnny grabs you close, kissing along your neck as he picks you up, dragging you to your feet. 

“The power went out!” You giggle, chest hurting from the fast gasps of breath as more kisses are spread over your skin. “It was colder down there and I didn’t want to open one of the windows because I knew you’d throw a pouting match about it.”

“Christ, Dearie.” Lips meet your own. “I had half the mind to think you had a heart attack. Nearly gave me one.”

Kyle Garrick ➺

Kyle sighs as he rubs at his jaw, itching the skin and slipping out of his jacket. 

“I’m home, Love!” He says, his voice echoing over the flat. “Want me to start on supper or have you eaten yet?” The man smiles, taking off his cap and putting it on the coat rack, sighing softly. 

It was good to be back. 

Bending down to unlace his boots, he pulls at them until they’re loose enough to slip out of, thumping to their sides on the rug until he reaches out and fixes them. 

“What’s that, then?” He calls into the darkness, not hearing your answer as he quickly checks the time on his phone. “Fuck, it’s late,” Kyle utters to himself. 

Walking into the kitchen, he touches the light switch only to be met with nothing. Pausing, the man’s face pulls in—fingers twitching at his sides as he glances at the window and the moonlight that seeps in to glare along the floor. 

A deep frown takes hold of him, and he looks around once more before backing up.

“...Love?” Kyle wasn’t too concerned—the building wasn’t always the best, and power outages weren’t unheard of. But, damn, if the high of getting off of a deployment didn’t put him in a negative head-space when it came to a change in routine involving you. 

Why weren’t you answering him?

Walking slightly faster into the living room, his hand nearly reaches into his pocket to call your phone if you didn’t end up in any of the rooms—pulse beginning to be infected with a steady injection of adrenaline. 

Brown eyes find your hand behind the couch when they’re about to shift to the open door of your bedroom. A sharp gasp is inhaled instantaneously. 

Kyle races over, grappling to it and pressing his fingers to your neck for a pulse. You softly breathe, none the wiser as you lightly shift and sigh in your sleep; a delicate hum moving out as familiar fingers dig into you. 

It’s through his panic that a thought quickly cuts through the man’s mind. You’d mentioned this before. 

Kyle pauses, just about to loudly wake you. 

‘It gets hot when the power goes out, Kyle, I swear one of these days I’m going to just fall asleep on the floor. At least it’s cool down there.’

Well, the power was out, and, it seemed, you really had fallen asleep on the floor. Now that he thought about it, the flat was running hot—and he also knew that you knew he had gotten nervous of late when you left the windows open at night. 

“Bloody hell,” the man releases a long breath, free hand moving to grip the back of his head. A few seconds later, Kyle chuckles to himself, shaking his head with a small smile. “You are losing it, Mate. Losing it.” 

Without another word, he grips you, and with a grunt, picks you up and takes you to bed, setting you down on the pillows and making sure to leave the sheets off of you so you don’t grow uncomfortable.

A kiss is pressed to your forehead, and you hum in slumber, smiling unconsciously.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Love.” 

He leaves to go make a quick supper of cereal and milk.

[messenger-of-babel]

Coloured Red

Summary: He likes you in his colour, just not that like that. (Jason Todd x reader)

Word Count: 2.1K

Notes: blood and injury. Hope everyone's having a good week so far! Not my favouriteeeeee Jason piece I have written but please enjoy anyways. xx

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It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

Never like this.

He had been working out of the manor for a few days, something he was already reluctant to do. However, you had sent him off to "work" with a bright smile and a kiss on the cheek, wishing him well for whatever convention Librarians had. Instead of your boyfriend being the gruff librarian sorting returns every night, he was in fact the red masked vigilante cooped up in the cave, pacing back and forth in front of the Bat computer while Tim tried to trace their latest suspect.

Dick had called him back for some extra firepower in the latest case, and if he hadn't owed him one Jason would be back with you in a heartbeat. "Get anything?" he grunts to Tim, who's fingers are typing strings of code into the keyboard.

"Not yet," he hums, the younger man's face twitching with annoyance as the firewall warning flashes across the screen again.

"Give it time, Jay. we don't want to let them know we're onto them." comes Dick, who’s leaning against a railing and still fully suited up from his earlier patrol. "I've checked all through The Cauldron and Southside, no trace of them there. Penguin must have closed up shop around Cobblepot Steel when he started working with his new friend. Going through great lengths to gatekeep his new buddy from us." he hums.

"Well I want to get this meet and greet over with," Jason grumbles, crossing his arms while he scuffs his boots impatiently.

"Bee in your bonnet, Red?" Dick calls and Jason scoffs.

"You put it there. You wanted me to help take 'em down while the Bat is out of town with Superscout, but you don't even know where they are. I've spent a full night just waiting for boy genius here to get a lock."

Dick puts his hands up in mock surrender. "We'll be done soon, promise. Then you can go home to your sweetheart. Hey, you can even say you came back early just to see them. I'm helping you get brownie points." he grins, nimbly dodging the hand Jason had swung out to slap the back of his head. "Where are they anyways? Their place?"

"Safehouse." Jason grunts back. "Staying at mine while I'm helping you lot. Old Gotham, near the GCPD. Besides, I told them to mark down I'd be back tonight on the calendar anyways."

Dick whistles. "Didn't think you had a place that close to the cops."

Jason just shrugs. "They're not after me, and if they were it would be somewhere they wouldn't look. Plus it's a nice distance from you all." he grumbles.

Dick pushes off the wall coming to lean over a monitor near Tim. "Well if our mystery person is teaming up with Penguin, and he isn't interested in the drug business, what is he here for?" he hums, eyes focused on the map of Gotham that Tim has pulled up. He taps the screen after a second, zooming in. "Here. Dixon Docks. We haven't checked here yet. Penguin used to smuggle through here, but it also became a bit of a meet up spot. He might have gone back to old ground."

"Yeah, but Penguin shifted his focus into drug running. Bruce put him under pretty heavy surveillance, managed to shut down a lot of his operations for a while. You really think he'd be that stupid to start trying to smuggle firearms again?" Tim piped up.

"Maybe. But Maybe its not firearms. This spot used to be a mob meeting spot. He never visited the operation personally unless-"

"Unless he wanted to order a hit." Jason cut off his older counterpart, voice becoming modulated as he fixed his mask to his face. "Seems there's a chance his new play pal is a hitman."

"For who though?" Tim asks.

"Maybe the hit isn't one Penguin is ordering. maybe the Penguin's selling info." Dick calls, testing his in earpiece before giving Jason a nod. "Me and Hood are going in to take a look. Track our location and keep the cameras on."

Tim nods while Jason and Dick head for the bikes, mounting each of their respective vehicles.

"Finally something to do." Jason groans, stretching his arms above his head before catching the cocky grin from Dick speeding past him. "Show-off." he murmurs, his own engine roaring to life as he follows suit.

They had cleared the dock pretty easily, Dick's hunch being correct. Between the two of them the middlemen and thugs were strewn across the floor of the warehouse, and Tim had already called the GCPD to come pick them up for the arrest. "No sign of our flightless friend." Jason grumbled, stepping over an unconscious thug.

"Nor our new mystery visitor." Dick concludes, tucking his escrima under his arm as he goes through the stack of papers at the makeshift desk tucked behind some shipping containers. Jason has known the eldest robin enough to know when he was worried, and the tight way he now held his body was a clear sign. "You find something?" he asks, boots thudding as the come to stand beside him.

"You think Oz was beginning to catch on?" Dick asks quietly, turning the page to show Jason the blurry CCTV photo of Bruce, a crude cowl and ears drawn over the image in sharpie.

"Shit," Jason breathed, taking some of the papers from Dick and beginning to flick through it. "This is all of us." He confirms, worry beginning to gnaw at his bones. There were photos of Tim leaving the city library and entering the Wayne Tower. Photos of Dick back in Bludhaven in a police uniform, photos of him at galas. Photos of Damian at school and meeting with Alfred. The more he flipped through them the more his heart dropped. There was a photo for nearly every 'apprentice' of Batman, surrounded by question marks.

"Whoever is joining the dots isn't fully convinced of it themselves." he murmurs, blood freezing as he sees a photo of himself there. A photo with you on his arm next to him. Dick comes to peer over at it, cursing under his breath.

"Hood, don't panic-" he tries to soothe, but Jason is already pushing past him to tear at more of the documents on the desk. He rifles through the papers, the sound of approaching sirens and Nightwing's urging to leave the scene deafened by the ringing in his ears. In his tightly clenched hands there was a leger, with a list of addresses. In the middle, was his address. The address he had given you, highlighted in yellow.

"We need to go." Dick urges, hurrying him to mount his bike. Jason jaw clenches, and he shoves the piece of paper into his brothers’ hands.

"Yeah. We do." he grits out, but he hopes Dick can't hear the sheer fear held behind his teeth. His bike speeds off, roaring through the side street they came on as he reroutes for Old Gotham. Dick looks down, eyes wandering over the red written date next to the highlighted address, tonight date. "Jesus," he breathes out, quickly following behind his brother before he does something reckless.

Jason doesn't think that he'd ever driven that fast since he'd been on the run from Bruce, throwing the bike into park so violently outside his apartment that the tires burnt as they squealed. Dick wasn't too far behind him, calling out for him to wait in between talking to Tim on the other end of his earpiece. His heart is thudding in his ears, hands feeling cold as he scales the stairs to the fourth floor, knocking on the door rapidly. He didn't care he was in his full suit. He could make some bullshit excuse if you were fine, claiming some noise disturbance or the wrong door.

But if he wasn't?

Then someone was going to fear the fact he was already suited up.

"I told you to wait, Hood-" Dick snaps at him, slightly out of breath from having to run behind him. Jason doesn't listen, shoulder slamming into the door when you don't come to answer.

"Don't you have the key?" Nightwing hisses to him.

"Left it in my civvies." he grunts, stumbling slightly as the door gives way. "I wasn't really expecting to…" he trails off, bile rising in his throat and blood draining from his face. Dick pushes in next to him, still scolding. "You can't just go in like this-" he cuts himself off, catching sight of what Jason was burning into his brain. "Oh no, Jay..." he whispers, but Jason is already moving to your side.

His hands come to your head, softly cradling it in his large palms. Two fingers come to press against your neck, his breathing evening out as he finds a weak pulse. "They're still kicking." He grunts out, other hand coming to cradle the back of your head. He closes his eyes trying to scrub the image of you lying there in the living room, sprawled on the carpet surrounded by the shards of the broken window and white rug drinking your blood.

Your eyes flicker weakly and you make a faint cry when he presses down on the wound by your ribs, a sound that tears him up inside. "Shhh," he tries to say softly, but the modulator makes it robotic, stripping the emotion from it. "I gotta put pressure on it. Did you see who did it?" he asks. He can faintly hear Dick calling for Robin on the end of the commlink, calling for paramedics to come to his address.

He hates how warm his hands feel, gloves heating up as if they were stealing the life force from out of you. Blood is flecked across your lips from the spray, faintly mumbling the words, "didn’t see them."

He nods along. "That’s okay, that’s okay." he murmurs, but he wasn't sure who he was telling that to.

"Red Hood…" you groan out, hand coming the grip his wrist as he pushes firmer on the bullet wound. Your fingers are bloody, smearing the crimson across his suit. "You gotta…you gotta find my boyfriend," you cough weakly. "They were here for him. He’s just…he's just a librarian…" your eyes tear up, throat swelling with the weight of your words. "He was just coming back tonight…oh god…you have to find him… what if they-" you sob, causing your face to scrunch up at the pain that ripples through your body. "I wanna…I wanna see him."

Jason's heart is tearing into pieces as Dick kneels to your other side, hands coming to your non-wounded side as he preps the area, Tim faintly heard giving instructions on how to stabilise you until the paramedics arrive. Jason shakes his head, fighting back tears. Despite the side glance he gets from Nightwing, he pulls one hand up to his face, feeling for the latch under his jaw to release his mask.

When he pulls it away his eyes are red, tears already built in the corners. His lips have a tremble that hasn't been felt since he was in the single digits on the streets, and his hairline is beaded with sweat from worry. He offers you a weak smile, unable to stop the shooting pain that wracks his mind watching the hazy confusion on your face.

"Jay?" you whisper, the word more mouth than sound. He nods reluctantly.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Oh god, it wasn’t supposed to go like this.

He dreamt of the day that he could tell you his identity, of his real profession. He imagined all the best scenarios of you accepting him, of letting him spin you around the kitchen when he picked you up by the waist like he did so often. Of telling you while you both read together on the couch, your legs pulled across his lap. He never imagined the bad scenarios. He pushed those to the back of his mind. But as you reached up with bloodstained fingers, dragging the sticky red across his cheek in that oh so familiar motion, he knew right then that this was the worst situation imaginable.

He lets his tears wash the red from your fingers, trying to blink them out of his eyes so he could focus on saving you.

"Hold on, sweetheart." he murmured weakly, desperately praying for the wailing of the siren to reach his ears.

He had always said how much he loved red, loved you in the colour. Loved you in his colour.

Now he was thinking he never wanted to see you bathed in this much red ever again.

[ddejavvu]

you join the team and hangman gets real shy with you and everyone is like

:O what have you done :O

and you're like

idk

and hes just like heart eyes

bc i LIVE for hangman being whipped and all nervous around his crushy wushy

MY LOVE MY LIGHT MY SAVING GRACE THANK YOU FOR THIS

--

Reassignment is a struggle. It's temporary, or, it's meant to be, but if things go well with your new team, you may be a permanent fixture. So you're a little nervous stepping onto the tarmac, all things considered.

You'd only managed to meet one person from your new squadron so far, a good-natured, kind man named Jake. He had seen you wandering along the hallway, directing you to Admiral Simpson's office when you'd explained your predicament. You don't spot him on the tarmac now, but you're not sure how many people are on the team.

There's a dark-haired woman that you can see, and she notices you, too. You aren't sure whether they've been shown pictures of you, but your last name is patched into your uniform and the helmet under your arm is branded with your callsign. A flash of recognition shows in her eyes, and she starts towards you.

"You're Y/N Y/L/N?" She quirks a brow, and you nod, smiling kindly.

"Nice to meet you," She grins, a brilliant expression on her pretty face, "I'm Natasha. Callsign Phoenix."

"Phoenix," You gush, "I like that. I'm supposed to join you for a hop today?"

"Yeah, we heard about that!" A man steps up beside you, cocky smirk on his face as he holds out a hand, "I'm Coyote. You're supposed to fly with Hangman, right?"

It wasn't ideal, being stuck in someone's backseat. You're used to flying, but this squadron wasn't in need of a new pilot, and you've been trained for both seats.

"Oh god," A man beside you groans, mustache a burnt red, "That's unfortunate. I'm, uh, Rooster. By the way."

You cock your head to the side, shaking his hand, "Rooster. What's wrong with that?"

"He's... difficult." A shorter man pipes up from your left, sticking his hand out, "Fanboy. He's just arrogant, that's all. He thinks he's the best, so it's hard to work with him if he feels like you're working against him. Hopefully he doesn't give you too much of a hard time."

Your heart sinks a little at the prospect of being paired with someone who didn't take kindly to partnership. You're resilient, sure, but there's only so much you can tolerate.

"Don't look now," Phoenix mumbles, leaning in close so no one can hear, "But he's coming out now. Just stand your ground, we can handle him if it gets too much."

You nod near-imperceptibly, waiting until you can hear the thunk of his boots on the asphalt before you spare him a glance. To your delight, the sweet, smiling face of Jake greets you, his cheeks already dusted a rosy hue.

"Y/N," He greets, southern drawl as sweet as sugar, "You're part of my squadron?"

"Your squadron," Rooster scoffs disapprovingly.

""You two know each other?" A tall man inquires, dark skin and pretty eyes, "I thought this was your first time here, Y/N."

"It is," You nod, exchanging a friendly smile with the man and glancing down at his name tag: Fitch, "But I ran into Jake yesterday in the hallway. He helped me to Admiral Simpson's office."

"Oh he did?" Fitch cocks his head to the side, a shit-eating grin thrown at Hangman, "Oh, that's so nice of you, Jake."

"I'm so glad you think that, Payback," Jake sneers, grin more menacing than any glare could be, "Now if you'll excuse us, Y/N and I should get comfortable with our new ride."

Jake crosses the rest of the tarmac until he's beside you, his hand coming to press against the small of your back just as it had yesterday. He's developing a habit of leading you around, and you reach his plane shortly, both of your names stamped on the side.

"I've never flown two-seater before," Jake admits, brushing a hand over his printed callsign, "This'll be interesting."

"Oh, why now?" You frown, fitting your helmet over your head, "What changed?"

"Uh," Hangman's eyes widen, and you think you've asked the wrong question. He answers, though, it's just sheepish.

"Admiral Simpson thinks it would be best if I had someone else with me in the air," He starts, choosing his words carefully, "Because he has observed some, uh- daring maneuvers from me. And he thinks that I might benefit from having someone else's safety to consider."

"You're too reckless," You realize, and you can't help but giggle, "So I'm your babysitter?"

"Let's not call it that!" Jake laughs, blush intensified, "Let's call it partners. Deal?"

"Deal," You grin, eyes twinkling similar to his own, "Partners."

"What the fuck?" Fanboy spits, watching from afar as Jake helps you into the jet, letting you grab his hand and brace your weight on his arm, "Did he get possessed, or something?"

"She hasn't slapped him yet," Rooster ponders, "He must be keeping himself in check."

"Is that Y/N?" Natasha turns where she hears Bob's voice nearing behind her, nodding with a growing smirk on her face.

"Yeah, that's her. And that's Hangman."

She points to Jake, who's leaning into your seat, concern evident on his face as he helps you adjust the position of your harness.

Bob's face falls, scrunching into a frown, "He's... helping her?"

"This is gonna get interesting, boys," Phoenix grins, eyes narrowed at Jake who's still grinning sweetly at you, "Hangman's got a crush."

[sonamytrash]

I Aim To Please.

Plumber Toji Fushiguro.

Porn trope Toji series, part 2 🖤

Part one here 🖤

Warnings: Smut, Plumber Toji x Fem!Reader, P in V, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding k!nk, pregnancy k!ink, no foreplay, Toji Fushiguro has a big dick, not proof read, trashy porno storyline, I don't know anything about plumbing, anything I learned about plumbing for the sake of this fic was through porn, reader you're a slut.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

It was a quiet Friday afternoon, and you had the weekend to yourself—or so you thought. You had finished work early, arriving back at your apartment having scheduled a plumber this afternoon.

The soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional chirp of a bird outside were the only sounds that filled the air. You felt a sense of calm wash over you as you slipped off your shoes and work attire, donning a baggy t-shirt and shorts before walking into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. The apartment was your sanctuary, a place where you could unwind from the stresses of the week. But, as you filled the kettle, you were reminded of the persistent drip from the sink that had been driving you crazy for days.

You had tried to fix it yourself, watching YouTube tutorials and armed with a wrench, but it was clear that your DIY skills had their limits. That's why you called in the cavalry—Toji Fushiguro, the plumber with a reputation for getting the job done swiftly and efficiently.

Just as you finished making your drink, the doorbell rang, and you took a deep breath to compose yourself before opening the door. There he was, tall and broad-shouldered, with a tool belt slung low on his hips. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and his eyes, a piercing shade of brown, met yours with a professional yet alluring gaze. "Hi, I'm Toji," he said, flashing a smile that made your knees wobble just a bit. "You got trouble with a tap, sweetheart?"

You nod, stepping aside to let him in, trying not to stare too long at the way his muscles moved under his tight-fitting t-shirt. "Thank you for coming," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. As he passed, you caught a whiff of his aftershave—a faint scent of pine and mint that sent a shiver down your spine. "The problem's in the kitchen."

Toji nodded and followed you, his heavy boots echoing in the hallway. Once in the kitchen, he set down his toolbox and surveyed the situation. You pointed to the sink, feeling a bit self-conscious in your oversized t-shirt and shorts. "It's been doing that for a while now," you said, gesturing to the slow, maddening drip.

He leaned over, his muscular arm brushing against your side, and you felt an unexpected jolt of attraction. His closeness made the air feel thick and charged. He turned the faucet on and off again before he began to inspect the pipes under the sink. You couldn't help but watch the play of muscles across his back, the way his biceps flexed with each movement.

"Looks like it's just a loose washer," he said, his voice deep and reassuring. "It's an easy fix."

You leaned against the counter, sipping your tea as you watched him work. Truthfully you would usually leave workmen to their own devices, but it seemed a shame to miss out on the view. The way he moved with such confidence, his hands sure and capable, was surprisingly arousing. You felt your cheeks flush as you remembered the last time you had been intimate with someone—it had been months, and it was definitely not this handsome.

As he knelt, reaching into the cabinets, his pants tightened around his thighs, and you couldn't help but imagine what lay beneath them. He looked up at you, his gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary, and you knew he wasn't oblivious to the tension in the room.

Toji removed the faulty washer with ease, and the silence that followed was deafening. The air between you crackled with unspoken desires. "It's fixed," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through your entire body. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and intense. "But it's going to take a few minutes to let the water pressure settle."

You nodded, your eyes lingering on his full lips. He took a step closer, and before you knew it, he had set his tools aside and was standing right in front of you. The heat from his body was palpable, and you could feel his breath on your skin. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" he asked, his voice a seductive whisper.

The question hung in the air, loaded with meaning, and you knew that he wasn't just referring to the plumbing.

Your heart raced as you set your tea down, the porcelain clinking against the counter. "I don't know," you replied coyly, your voice barely above a whisper. "What did you have in mind?"

Toji's smile grew into a smirk, his eyes traveling over your body with a hunger that sent a thrill of excitement through you. He took another step closer, and you could feel the warmth of his body against your legs.

"Well," he said, his voice dropping an octave, "I've got a few... tools that might be of use to you."

You felt a shiver of anticipation run down your spine as he reached out and lightly brushed your thigh with the back of his hand. His touch was like a spark that ignited a fire within you, and suddenly all you could think about was the heat of his body against yours.

"Maybe you could show me?" you offered, your voice breathy and hopeful.

Toji's smirk grew into a full-blown grin as he reached out and gently tugged on the hem of your shirt. "I'd be happy to, princess. " he said, his eyes never leaving yours.

You took a step closer, feeling the heat from his body, and the air between you grew electric. The flirting was no longer subtle. You bit your bottom lip, and he took it as the invitation it was. His hand traveled up your side, his thumb grazing the curve of your waist, and your breath hitched.

Without another word, he closed the distance between you, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you closer. His lips found yours in a kiss that was rough, his tongue demanding entry as he tasted you. You responded eagerly, your arms wrapping around his neck as you gave in to the lust that had been building since the moment he had arrived.

You could feel the fabric of your t-shirt stretching tightly across your breasts as he cupped them, his thumbs brushing against your hardened nipples through the thin material. A moan escaped your lips, and he took it as an invitation to deepen the kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before he sucked it into his mouth.

His hands traveled up to the hem of your shirt and with a swift tug, he lifted it over your head, revealing your lacy bra. He took a moment to appreciate the sight before unclipping it and letting your breasts spill into his waiting hands. His rough fingers tweaked and pinched your sensitive flesh, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You reached down and unbuckled his tool belt, letting it clatter to the floor. Your hands worked on the button of his pants, and when they were open, you slid them down to expose his boxers, the outline of his substantial erection straining against the fabric. Toji stepped out of his boots and shed his pants, leaving him in just his underwear, which he quickly discarded.

He lifted you onto the counter, the cold marble a stark contrast to the heat of his skin. His hands roamed over your bare thighs, making you gasp as he pushed aside your shorts and panties. The tip of his finger traced the wetness of your sex, and you bucked your hips in response, desperate for more.

"You're so fucking wet for me, already?" Toji teased, his breath hot against your neck.

You bit your lip and nodded, unable to form coherent words. "Mmhmm," you managed, your voice a breathy purr.

Toji chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with desire. "I want to hear you say it," he demanded, his hand sliding up your inner thigh. "Tell me how much you want me."

You looked into his eyes, feeling a rush of boldness. "I want you," you whispered, your voice a seductive purr. "I want you to fuck me."

Toji's eyes darkened at your words, and his grip on your thighs tightened. "Is that right?" he said, his voice a gruff challenge. "You want this rough plumber to pound you like you're his personal fuck toy?"

You felt a thrill of excitement at his crude language, nodding eagerly. "Yes," you breathed, your voice thick with need. "I want you to use me."

Toji's eyes narrowed, his grip on your thighs tightening. "You're going to get exactly what you ask for, sweetheart," he growled, his voice full of promise. He stepped closer, the head of his cock nudging against your wet folds.

You could feel the head of his erection pressing against you, and you were still surprised by how big he was. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the feeling of being filled, but Toji didn't rush. He took his time, rubbing the length of his cock against your wetness, building the anticipation.

When he finally entered you, it was slow and deliberate, stretching you with a delicious burn that made you gasp, considering you had no prep from his fingers, it was no suprise that there was a stong to accompany the intrusion of his cock. He didn't stop until he was all the way in, his hips flush against yours. You could feel every inch of him, and it was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"You're so tight," he groaned, his eyes squeezed shut as he took a moment to adjust to the snug fit. You felt your body quiver around him as he began to move, his hips rocking into yours with a force that made the countertop creak.

The sensation of his huge cock filling you was almost overwhelming. It stretched you to the point of pain, but the pleasure quickly overtook any discomfort. You had never felt so full, so claimed. His movements grew more urgent, each thrust hitting a spot deep within you that had you crying out his name.

"Fuck, you're taking me so well," he grunted, his eyes locked onto yours. "You're made for this, aren't you?" His dirty talk only served to heighten your arousal, making you wetter and more eager for his rough, unbridled passion. "You're greedy cunt is taking all of me, every inch," he continued, his voice gruff with desire.

You whimpered, biting your bottom lip as he began to move faster, his hips pistoning into you with a relentless rhythm that had you clutching at his shoulders.

Toji's eyes were blazed with lust, "You like it rough, don't you?" he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "I could tell as soon as I saw you, that you like being pounded like the slut you are."

You couldn't deny it, and you found yourself moaning back, "Yes, yes, I do." Your voice was shaky, your body trembling with every impact. "Fuck me harder, Toji," you begged, feeling the edge of an orgasm approaching.

"That's it, take it," he grunted, his hips smacking against yours with each punishing thrust. "You're such a good little whore for me, aren't you?"

The words sent a thrill through you, and you found yourself responding in kind. "Yes! Yes, I am," you moaned, the dirty talk adding a delicious edge to the already intense experience. "Fuck me like you own me, Toji. Make me cum!"

Toji's pace didn't let up, his eyes locked on yours as he pounded into you. You could feel your body tightening around him, the beginnings of another orgasm building. The way he talked to you, the way he used you, it was all so new, so raw, and it was intoxicating.

"I'm going to fill you up," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "I'm going to breed you right here on this kitchen counter."

You gasped, the shock of his words mixing with the pleasure coursing through your body. The idea of him impregnating you was both terrifying and thrilling, a taboo fantasy that had you clutching at him even tighter. "Do it," you moaned, your voice barely a whisper. "I want to feel your cum inside me."

Toji's eyes lit up at your response, his strokes growing more erratic as he approached his climax. He leaned in closer, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he whispered, "You're going to get pregnant with my baby, aren't you?"

The thought of his seed filling you up, his child growing inside you, sent a fresh wave of desire crashing through your body. "Oh God, yes," you moaned, your nails digging into his back. The idea of being filled with his essence was too much to handle, and with one final, powerful thrust, you felt your body give way. You squirted everywhere, your juices spraying out around his cock and coating the counter beneath you. The intensity of the sensation was like nothing you had ever felt before, and you screamed out his name as your muscles clenched around him.

Toji grunted with pleasure, his eyes locked onto yours as he continued to pump into you. You could see the effort in his face, the way his jaw was clenched and his muscles bulged with the effort of holding back. "Atta girl, make a mess on my cock," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

Your orgasm seemed to go on forever, your body convulsing around him until finally, with a groan, he buried himself deep and emptied himself inside you. You felt the hot spurt of his cum fill you up, and the sensation was like nothing you had ever experienced. It was raw, primal, and utterly exhilarating.

As the aftershocks of pleasure subsided, Toji leaned in and kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same hunger he had shown moments before. His cock remained buried inside you, still pulsing with the last remnants of his release. You could feel his heart hammering against your chest, his breathing ragged and erratic.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, savoring the feeling of his warmth and the weight of his body pressing you into the counter. The kitchen, once a place of domesticity, was now a stage for your carnally charged performance. The scent of sex mingled with the faint aroma of mint from your tea, creating a heady blend that seemed to intoxicate you further.

"You're a naughty girl," Toji said, his voice still thick with lust as he kissed along your neck, making you shiver.

"Is that a compliment?" you teased, your voice light and playful.

Toji chuckled, his grip on your hips loosening slightly. "You bet your sweet ass it is," he said, his eyes raking over your bare chest. "I've never seen anyone look so fucking good with their legs spread on a kitchen counter."

You couldn't help but smile at his crudeness, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the aftermath of your orgasm. "And I've never had a plumber quite like you," you retorted, running your nails lightly down his back.

Toji chuckled, "I aim to please."

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Billy and his songbird || Billy the kid x singer!reader

Summary: Billy is captivated to say the least when he watches you perform on stage.

Warnings: none that I can think of

Wc: 983

A/n: crap summary but I've always wanted to do a crossover between tbosas and btk lol. this was so fun to make, ALSO nothing you can take from me has to be one of the top three songs on the soundtrack along with pure as the driven snow and the ballad of lucy gray baird. I SAID WHAT I SAID.

Divider by @pommecita

The sun hung low on the western horizon, casting long shadows across the dusty streets of the small frontier town. The swinging doors of the saloon creaked as a lone figure stepped inside, his silhouette framed by the fading light.

The murmurs and laughter of the patrons hushed for a moment as they turned their attention to the newcomer. The dimly lit room flickered with the warm glow of oil lamps, and the air was thick with the scent of whiskey and cigar smoke.

The stranger, a tall and lean figure wearing a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his eyes, scanned the room before his gaze settled on you. A slow grin crept across his face as recognition sparked in his eyes.

You were unaware of Billy’s gaze with your back turned to the crowd as you tuned your guitar ready for your performance for the night.

Billy looked around, his eyes scanning the room until they locked onto a familiar face: Jesse Evans. The two had esse crossed paths many times before, sometimes as allies and sometimes as adversaries, but tonight, it seemed like old times.

“Billy!” Jesse called out, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Well, I’ll be damned. Thought you were avoiding us. Billy smirked and tipped his hat as he approached Jesse and the others at a table near the corner that had a good view of the stage. “Just needed a bit of a break, Jesse. Couldn’t resist the allure of Sante Fe and the atmosphere ‘round here.”

Jesse slaps Billy’s back, “Well, you came on a good day, kid. Y/n’s singing tonight.“ He cocks his head to you on the stage as Billy’s eyes roam your figure. “Jesse leaned in toward Billy. “You know, we used to get mighty excited whenever we heard she was performing. She’s got a voice that can make even the toughest outlaw shed a tear.”

Billy raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Is that right? Well, I reckon I’ll have to hear it for myself.”

Jesse smirks at his friend as Billy catches on to his smirk with a roll of his eyes. “How’s everyone’s night goin’?” You speak in the mic as the saloon erupts in loudness, a few cheers, whistles and the sound of hands hitting tables, showcasing their feelings.

You chuckle, “Good, good, that’s what I like to hear,” a mischievous glint flashed across Billy’s eyes as he hears Jesse chuckles beside him, a playful nudge to his stomach.

“Oh! Is that bottle there for me?” Your eyes widen the slightest as you see one of the locals walk over to you with a flask in hand. “Of course, doll,” Cal grins up at you as the crowd loudens. “Oh, come on, ya’ll. You know I gave up drinking when I was 12,” You playfully wink.

The crowd erupted in laughter and amusement at your customary banter. Billy found himself captivated by your charm. “It’s to clear my piles, ya’ll. To clear my pipes” You assure them jokingly, throwing the flask back to the crowd with a grin.

You turn your head to give a sign to your band to start the song you prepared. The crowd hushed, waiting for the music to start, “You can’t take my past,” your bandmates start off, “you can’t take my history,” the crowd was silent in awe as they listen to the melodic voices that filled the space.

“You could take my pa,” “but his name’s a mystery.” You take a step forward to the mic, “Nothin’ you can take from me was ever worth keeping” your eyes flutter shut as you hear a few whoops from the crowd.

“Oh, nothing you can take,” your eyes open and Billy swore he saw them sparkle, “was ever worth keeping,” the corner of your mouth tips up to form a small smirk as the upbeat song comes to life causing an eruption of cheers from the patrons.

You wore a huge smile on your face as your fingers skilfully strum your guitar. “C’mon!” You encourage the already hyped up crowd full of cowboys and cowgirls; your boot tapping on the wooden stage as they clap along, already boosting your adrenaline.

“Can’t take my charm. Can’t take my humour. Can’t take my wealth, cause it’s just a rumour.” The way you effortlessly and gracefully twirled around the stage, your voice and stage presence mesmerising and commanding everyone’s attention—Billy was truly and utterly enchanted—you, the enchanter.

“Nothing you can take was ever worth keeping. No, nothing you can take was ever worth keeping,” Billy couldn’t help but feel his head lightly bopping to the beat, his eyes looking around to see everyone else just as captivated by your presence.

You were having the time of your life, like always whenever you sang, your heart pumping with adrenaline, “Thinkin’ your so fine. Thinkin’ you could have mine.”

Billy couldn’t help but be enchanted by your performance. He leaned against the wall, a half-smile playing on his lips as he watched you sing. Jesse and his gang, too, were caught up in the infectious energy of the moment. It seemed like everyone in the saloon, regardless of their affiliations, was having a great time.

“Thinkin’ you’re in control. Thinkin’ you’ll change me, maybe rearrange me, think again if that’s your goal.” Your eyes roam around the practically full saloon before you lock eyes with none other than Billy the Kid in the corner.

You saw him a few hours prior from a distance, but that was it. Now, his blue irises were staring straight at you, his lips lightly upturned as his finger taps along to the beat of the music, your fingers still dancing over your guitar strings, not missing a beat.

You both stared at each for what seemed liked hours but was merely a few seconds; and, for those few seconds, something unspoken passed between you.

A playful smile made it to your lips before you tore your eyes away from Billy’s. “Can’t take my sass. Can’t take my talkin’,” Billy’s watches your figure as you move across the stage, leaning forward to the crowd, “you can kiss my ass, then keep on walkin’,”

An amused expression flashed over Billy’s face, “She’s good isn’t she, Billy?” Jesse shouts over the loud music as Billy chuckles, nodding his head. “She’s somethin’ alright. A songbird.” Jesse snorts at him, “a songbird, huh?” he echoes as Billy’s eyes fall back onto the stage that you controlled.

“Nothin’ you can take from me is worth dirt.” Your eyes lock with one another, “take it ‘cause I’d give it free, it won’t hurt.” Your eyebrow lightly cocks at his direction as Billy’s lips parted. It seemed as if it was only the two of you in the saloon, everyone fading in the background.

The crowd falls into a hush, sensing the end of the song, “Nothin’ you can take was ever worth keepin’. No, nothin’ you can take was ever worth keepin’.” The upbeat tempo once again affiliated the saloon as the pleasantly surprised patrons clapped, danced, and tapped along to the catchy beat of the song.

When the song reached its crescendo, you finished with a flourish, your fingers dancing over the guitar strings. Everyone in the saloon cheered and whistled, and you couldn’t help but bow, acknowledging the appreciation.

“Ya’ll have a good night, thank you!” You exclaim into the mic before turning around and packing up your equipment. “We’re havin’ a drink, join us?” Annie, your bandmate comes up to you, placing her hand on your shoulder.

You smile up at her, “Thanks, Annie. I’ll come join you guys later.” As you stand back up, you lock eyes with Jesse Evans. You were well acquainted with the man, the two of you hanging out whenever you were free. He was sat a table with Billy, his gang the next table over.

He beckoned you with a smile as you reciprocate it, signalling to him that you’d be there in a sec. “Hey, sweetheart,” Cal drawled, obviously drunk as he had a cigarette in between his lips.

“Hey there, Cal. Enjoying yourself?” You politely smile at him as her offers to hold your hand as you descend the stage stairs—although you were quite capable of walking down yourself.

“Wanna join me for a drink, eh?” “Uh-“ “-what do ya say?” Your eyes lock with Billy’s who was staring you down. “Thank you for the offer, Cal. But I’m gonna have to decline,” You quickly say as your feet quickly moved away, leaving him there.

“Popular, ain’t ya?” Jesse chuckles, moving the seat back beside him for you. “Mind sharin’ a drink with us?” He pats the seat as your eyes flicker between him and Billy. You returned the smile, taking a seat between Billy and Jesse “I’m a busy girl but I’ll make time for ya. Always a pleasure to share good company,” you playfully wink at Jesse as you hear Billy softly chuckle.

“Lovely to finally meet you, Mr. Bonney,” You extend your hand out gracefully as he looks down at it before looking back at you with a smile. “Please, the pleasure is all mine.”

The conversation flowed as freely as the whiskey, and soon, the saloon was filled with the sounds of camaraderie. You found yourself in the middle of it all, laughing at Jesse's stories, clinking glasses with the gang, and sharing glances with Billy that spoke volumes.

"It was Billy's first time here watching your perform y'know," Jesse pipes up, his glass of whisky close to his lips before he throws his head back as you look at Billy who was already looking at you. "What'd you think 'bout my performance Billy?"

Billy pretends to ponder, rubbing his jaw as you giggle. "What can I say, darlin'? You were great out there. I couldn't keep my eyes off of you," he admits as you grin at his bluntness.

As the evening drew to a close, Jesse stood and stretched. "Well, Billy, it's been a pleasure catchin' up with you. But we've got a long ride ahead of us tomorrow."

Billy nodded, his gaze lingering on you. "I reckon it's time for me to hit the trail as well. But before I go, there's somethin' I've been meanin' to ask." You looked at him, curiosity in your eyes. "Ask away."

Billy hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Would you mind if I walked you home? It's not every day a man gets to meet a singer as talented as you." You smiled, touched by the slightly expected request, you nodded with a gracious smile. "I'd be delighted, Billy."

As you and Billy stepped out into the cool night air, the distant sounds of the bustling saloon faded, leaving only the soft murmur of the wind and the occasional creak of a swinging sign. The moon cast a gentle glow on the empty streets as the two of you walked side by side.

"Quite a night, wouldn't you say?" Billy remarked, his tone a mix of charm and genuine admiration. You hummed. "Never thought I'd find myself walking home with an infamous outlaw." You smirked as Billy reciprocated it, "Life's full of surprises, darlin'," he tips his hat.

[pfhwrittes]

have a chunk of tradie!141 for your reading pleasure.

it's fuckin' pourin' down, has been for the last 3 days and the forecast ain't getting any better. thick, claggy muck sucks at the soles of simon's boots, threatening to pull 'em straight off his feet as he crosses the quagmire to slip into the portakabin-cum-office where he knows his skipper'll be.

price is fumin' under his hard hat, his ancient brick of a phone glued to his ear as he barks out demands to whichever poor sod is gettin' an earful off the boss today (probably nik, who straight up refused to drive onto site, stating bold as brass that the wagon would get bogged down, fuck the delay, captain. i'm not hurting my girl for your timetable).

with a disgusted snort price throws the offending phone onto the cluttered desk sending a sheaf of papers careening onto the floor.

"fucks sake, riley. what d'ya want?" price growls out in his direction and simon just lifts a battered eyebrow at the tone. no point gettin' his knickers in a twist over weather but price has always thought himself better than acts of nature and god himself.

"told the lads to put the tools down and go 'ome."

if looks could kill, simon would be buried in a shallow grave under the portaloo. price's face is as stormy as the sky rumbling ominously outside.

"well tell 'em to pick them back up, for fucks sake! we've got a fucking job to do here, simon." price snaps, his patience well and truly gone and it isn't even dinner time by simon's watch.

simon's hi-vis jacket creaks forebodingly as he straightens up.

"no."

there's a beat as simon squares off against his skipper, the unstoppable force of john price smashing against simon's immovable iron will. simon's known john a long fuckin' time and he'll play dirty to keep the crew safe if he has to. john's seen him walk off jobs for less.

price sighs noisily, ruffling the ends of his moustache.

"right then. who're we losing?"

"gaz can't work with the humidity, ale and rudy can't paint if gaz ain't finished the plaster, don't trust soap not to fry 'isself, and flash is sat in the van dryin' out." simon counts off on his fingers.

price's eyebrows hike up to his hairline at the mention of the plumber's apprentice.

"'s matter with flash?"

simon chuckles at the memory of flash covered head to toe in mud after an unfortunate tumble.

"debuted 'is mud-wrestlin' career f'r us."

price snorts out an amused sound and shakes his head. poor sod'll be miserable for the rest of the day without any spare kit to change into.

"right, go on then. tell 'em they can fuck off for the day." price reaches for his abandoned phone, probably to tell the client, some jumped up property developer-slash-social media wanker, that the job's been delayed by the shit weather. (simon doesn't envy him in the slightest, last time he met her she looked him up and down like he was scum and he was tempted to "accidentally" score the side of her flash car with the end of a length of 22mm copper pipe.)

simon offers price a nod and turns towards the door of the 'kabin, hooking the flimsy hood of his jacket over his head.

"oi, riley. you better not have stuck flash in my van."

"nah, stuck 'im in with soap and gaz. i ain't gettin' that shit on our seats."

price's barking laugh follows simon out the door into the pissing rain.

[altaproductsllc]

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[arcait]

vi spitting on cait in s2 ep6 from cait's pov... (horny, 18+)

~

Caitlyn presents as all business: perfect hair, ironed shirts, laced boots. It's become all the more important that she does lately. It's integral to look the part one plays, especially in a position such as Caitlyn's.

Vi looks her part as well - a hardened member of the undercity, the exact type of person everyone in Piltover felt threatened by. Caitlyn hadn't truly realized how coifed she'd gotten until she pinned Vi under her arm. The contrast of her sleeve and Vi's bandaged chest almost makes her pause.

"You look like an angry oil slick," Cait had chastised Vi, then proceeded to ogle over her. She much preferred Vi's natural hair, but this new shade - for whatever reason - made Cait think of their kiss. The way Vi had pressed against her, and how her calloused hands slipped up Cait's coat to touch the bare skin of her waist. If Vi had wanted to, Caitlyn would have taken her right there, disgusting Zaun piping system be damned.

If Vi made a move now, Caitlyn would do the same here. Which is dangerous, because she's on a mission, she has been for months now, and Vi is a distraction and an oversight and -

And she's calling Cait cupcake, just like she used to. She's angry at Caitlyn, but the softness of her tone tells Cait she's hurt and misses her. The heaviness between them is palpable, and Cait feels it in the eagerness of Vi's gaze, the quiet hitches of her breath.

When they've come up with a plan, Cait binds Vi's hands together, and is shocked to find the insides of her wrists are soft. Cait doesn't understand it, and she falters, her thumbs tracing Vi's lifeline. She wonders what the rest of Vi is like, and starts to feel sick. The image of Maddy flashes behind Caitlyn's eyes. She exhales harshly.

"You alright?" Vi's voice cuts through Cait's anxieties. She meets Vi's gaze, and for a moment, her sobs echo through Cait's ears. "You know, of all the things you could feel guilty for right now, tying me up when I agreed to it is probably pretty low on the list." Cait allows herself a short laugh.

"I'm fine. Thank you," she says sincerely as she ties off the knot. She tugs a burlap sack over Vi's head, her gaze fixed on the other girl's lips until her entire face is covered. Only then does Cait breathe a sigh of almost relief.

~

It feels like everything comes to a head when Vi spits on Cait.

Caitlyn is shocked. She admires Vi's dedication, Ambessa is clearly convinced the two hate each other. And that's good, it means she doesn't recognize Cait's body reacting. To Ambessa, she simply tenses, but Cait feels like it's obvious she clenched.

Her eyes flicker down to meet Vi's as she wipes the saliva off her cheek. Cait wants to lick it, or make Vi. It's vile, but the thought makes Cait slick. By the time she's running out the tent, Cait is telling herself to keep it fucking together. Now is not the time.

With the two of them, it never seems to be.

[pseudowho]

As usual, I have no one to talk about this but... Have you seen those "mom instincts are cool, but let's talk about dad reflexes for a sec" vids???

Kento with dad reflexes? (Pretty sure he already has it when he's single or even in canon when Yuji is accompanying him in missions lmao)

I'm just in my bed giggling, kicking my feet because I can imagine him having those like when his baby girl would trip and he moves so FAST to catch her 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 man idk where I'm going with this it's just making me go skkdkddkdjd

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The footsteps were slow, slick, echoing-- considered. At this stage, Kento didn't know if he and Yuuji were being hunted, or if they were the hunters. He suspected both.

The mansion fell apart around them, broken pipes lazily spewing sewage and muck. Kento felt the softly yielding floorboards beneath his feet, aware that if he wasn't careful, the second floor would very quickly become the first floor and--

"Oi, Nanamin!" Bounding, youthful footsteps hopped up beside Kento, who felt and heard the repercussions up the walls, the crack in the floorboards, the imminent collapse--

With the barest flash of movement, the floor beneath Yuuji's feet was missing, and Yuuji hung by his collar in Kento's iron grip, slowly rotating in the air as floorboards rumbled away with distant clatters. Otherwise, silence. A mildly dismayed hum from Kento, as he twizzled his blade in his other hand.

"Wow, Nanamin! Good refle--"

"Please make sure I do not have to use them, Itadori-kun."

"Ah...yeah."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Curse-killing on a moving Subway train in the middle of the night wasn't the sort of overtime Kento needed...but when he heard the mission had been given to you, and you alone, he felt a sickening twist of anxiety in his gut. Not that you knew how he felt.

Kento bridled with incandescent rage, seeing you tumble down the rattling carriage, pinballing between poles and seats. Your fatal blow to this filthy Curse was not fatal quickly enough.

"Come on! It's dead, time to--" Kento's call was cut short, sensing imminent disaster as you kicked the door through on the opposite end of the carriage, and the Curse staggered into the walls, making the carriage list sideways, making you list sideways at the open door in your bullet-shot speed through this gloomy tunnel--

All at once, you felt yourself falling from the moving train, rolling and tumbling but wrapped up in something so warm that smelled so good.

You rolled to a stop, still full-body bear-hugged by Kento. You lay under him for a moment, face to chest through the torn off buttons of his shirt. He unfolded you with a soft sigh, hands and knees planted either side of your head and hips.

"Wow, Kento. Good refle--"

"Dinner, I--...we should go out for dinner."

"Oh. Like...now?"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Daddy, watch this--"

One little blonde girl, suspended and giggling upside down, caught. Kento, sighing, holding her by her ankle by the tree she was almost certainly too small to climb.

-----------------------------

"Jump, jump, jump, jump, ju--"

A full-suited barrel-roll across the living room, a near-miss with a tiny head and a coffee table corner. The boy peered sheepishly up at his daddy, whose narrow brown eyes glowered down in silent disapproval.

"Daddy, I was jumpi--"

"Hush. Be more careful."

-----------------------------

"I'll race you--"

"No, I'm winning I'M WINNING I'M---"

A flash of movement. One little boy and one little girl, hunched over and suspended by the backs of their jeans, spinning and surprised.

Kento grunted once, loaded down with shopping bags, hooking the boot of the car up with one foot, his keys between his teeth. He spat his keys onto the seat.

A truck barrelled past, its driver certainly not looking for little people. Kento grunted again, dropping children and shopping bags.

"Do not-- I repeat, do not run in the car park."

"...sorry daddy."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You reached out towards Kento, seeing something glimmer in the honey-blond of his hair. His hand snapped up, grasping yours reflexively round the wrist. He let go immediately, apologetic.

"Sorry, I--...rough day with the kids." You smiled, stroking his cheek, and he leaned into your soft palm, planting a kiss there. Your gaze wandered to his hair again. Kento raised an eyebrow at you.

"What?"

"You've, uhm...got a grey hair."

Silence. A moderately dismayed hum.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

I agree. Nanami Kento has dad reflexes.

-- Haitch xxx

[druidwolf21]

If it's not too much trouble can you write some wild warp sex with Magnus with a fem reader? Go balls to the wall with how crazy it gets.

Hey anon! Thank you so much for your ask!

Free reign for crazy sexy time with the OG magic man???

Yes please

Sorry this took so long hope you enjoy!

CW: dubious consent through lies, but NO forced stuff. Little bit of butt stuff, smut smut smut, brief mention of gore

@beckyninja @lemon-russ @moodymisty @kit-williams @jaghatai-khock @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨🌟🌟🌟✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

This isn't happening

This cannot be happening

You cried out in fear, siren screams echoed through the metal halls and red flashes of spinning alarms streaked your world with splatters of scarlet light as you stumbled down the corridor. Another shudder wracked the ship and you stumbled, skidding along the floor before crashing into the cold walls. Boots stormed past you and rough hands hauled you to your feet before sprinting away.

"warp drive fail, time until impact: T minus 2 minutes"

The cold voice, barely audible over the screams and thunder of movement softly counted down the time. Stunned, everything around you seemed to slow down. The faces of soldiers and crew, sprinting towards the evac bay, faces curled in fear and teeth clenched seemed fuzzy as they passed by, everything was muted and your heart hammered in your chest, filling your ears with the thunder of your blood roaring around your body with adrenaline. You snapped back to reality as a serf barrels past you, slamming you back into the wall as they fled the carnage.

Shaking your head you glanced around. The main bulk of the crew continued fleeing towards the hanger in an attempt to reach the evac pods. But they were finite, and you already knew your chances were slim at best, no, you had to find something else. Sprinting against the swell of bodies you pushed your way towards the armoury. Dragging yourself through the fear and trampling mass you stretched for the door, grasping the handle with white knuckles you heaved yourself inside, slamming the emergency lock button by the door before sliding down the alloyed surface.

You pulled your knees to your chest and pressed your forehead down, cupping your neck with interlaced cold hands as you listened to the gentle hiss as the doors hermetic locks sealed shut. Nothing in or out. Taking a deep breath you unlaced your hands and wrapped yourself around a exhaust pipe, clinging like your life depended on it as the tiny voice crackled through the speaker.

3

2

1

You screamed as the room crashed around you, guns, shells and munitions flew around you in a storm of metal as the ship impacted something. The screech of crushing metal and groan of collapsing iron surrounded you as you grit your teeth. Your arms burned from labour as you clutched the piping with desperation, your ribs sore from bouncing on the steel door and wall as the vessel was slowly ground into oblivion. Your head cracked against the wall and the world went dark and silent.

You awoke with a throbbing head and aches from so much of your body you couldn't tell what was what. You groaned and attempted to stand, before doubling over as pain and nausea swept over you.

"holy crap I'm alive" you whispered, staring at the scattering of metal rounds and clips as the sickness finally passed. You slowly bent upright, leaning heavily on the wall as you gathered your thoughts. YouR head was throbbing, along with your ribs and you pressed a tentative finger to your side and hissed, bruised, but miraculously nothing felt broken. Rolling your linen sleeves past your elbows you scowled at the rash of red and blue along your forearm from the rubbing of twisted metal on your skin but all in all, worth it to walk away with your life.

Sore, possibly concussed, but definitely alive.

Groaning as you heaved yourself off the now corrugated surface, you limped to the door and slapped your scuffed palm on the release, scowling and closing your eyes as the sudden light overwhelmed you. Blinking in disorientation you stepped out and gasped.

The world was cold and cruel, but so mesmerizingly beautiful. Peaks of bleak dark rock jutted from between aether clouds of untold colours, kaleidoscopes of lightning and energy chased through the mesmeric vapors and even higher still a ring of white circled the planet like a halo.

The gutted carcass of the ship lay strewn over 200 meters away. The corridor so many people had fled through was splintered, recognisable by only fragments of welded bolts and twisted venting. The main body of the transporter smoldered as thick oily smoke and promethium leaked and pooled around the decimated hull, the stench of burning fuel and melting ore lay thick in the air, rolling across your tongue and coiling in the back of your throat, threatening to drag up whatever bile was left in your stomach.

You slowly eased yourself through the half opened door and began walking towards the main bulk of your fallen ship, bodies littered the crash site, faces you knew, others flayed beyond recognition, torn and thrown like ragdoll.

"there has to be someone" you hissed, clutching your bruised side as you staggered on. "Hello? Is anyone still alive?'.

Your eyes flicked as you saw movement from a large slash in the side of the ship, the walls torn open angrily into jagged peaks groaned as a hulking shadow emerged from the bowels of the spacecraft. The air shimmered with iridescent light and you felt a wave of energy pulse through you, tripping your senses and confusing your thoughts, your mind felt like it draped in a chill fog, though it did nothing the halt the dread creeping into your gut as the figure finally stepped into the light.

The marines helm twisted as he paced, metal screaming as his armoured weight crushed it underfoot as he stepped. The incandescent shift of hued vapors danced on the blue and gold of his armour as he turned and stopped, catching your trembling figure in its crimson glare. It paused for a moment, cocking it's head slightly, as if listening, before it began thumping towards you.

"screw that"

You spun and began running, ignoring the throbbing in your body as you sprinted. You could feel the earth shake beneath your feet as the colossus of Ceremite and steel ground the rubble to dust in his pursuit of you. Turning your head over your shoulder, you gulped as the distance between grew smaller by the second, you could see motes of sparking dust puff from the marine as he moved. You turned your head forward again to focus on your esca...

Whack

You tumbled backwards with the impact, grunting as you hit the rocky floor with a hard thud and pain staggered up your bruised body. Panic flooded through you as you staggered to your feet, clawing at the dirt to get any form of traction you rose up. You balled your fists, helplessly bringing them up defensively as the armoured predator strode towards you. The astartes, now only meters from you stopped, head cocked once more as he looked past you, before turning around and stomping off back the way he came.

A laugh came from behind you, deep and luxurious, it resounded through your body, sending shivers up your spine. You turned on your heels and stared dumbfounded at the source of the sound and your impact.

The man towered over you, casting a long shadow as he smiled down at you. His skin shone like burnished copper, almost glowing with an ethereal light. Long flowing hair, a waterfall of burnt umber framed a handsome face, whilst sweeping bangs concealing a missing eye as his other looked down at you softly. A smile creased his feature as he continued watching you shiver under his gaze, spreading further as you straightened your back and tilted your chin defiantly.

“If your going to kill me, get it over with “ you spat, holding his gaze, each second feeling like an hour under the crunching intensity of his emerald stare and sheer presence, the blanket around your mind seemed to wash gently across your thoughts as he studied you.

Suddenly he laughed again, a deep bellowing sound as he threw his head back. His golden armour hissed and whined as he knelt down, levelling his face with your own. “Brave word, little one, I admire your courage! But I’m afraid you have lept to conclusions” he swept a muscular arm in the direction of the wreckage “your ship crashed, we mearly came to look for survivors.”

Brow creased in confusion, you studied his face, looking for a lie. You had heard all the stories of the crimson king, of how Magnus the red was a demon of colossal size and power, tearing friend and foe alike as he slaughtered his way through the imperium. But the man who stood before you was just that. A man. Albeit he was huge, but there were not teeth like swords or devil horns, no demons dancing to his whim. Just a very tall, very handsome man.

“But… I thought..”

He chuckled again, and placed a large hand gently on your head, tousling your hair gently, “I’m sorry to disappoint, but I am no monster”

At his touch all of the fear finally dissipated, a gentle warmth spread through your body, the dog around your mind became blanket thick and you felt tears prick your eyes. your knees finally gave out beneath you but warm hands clutched your soft body, supporting as you sobbed.

“Don’t fear, you’re safe now”

You awoke bundled in soft, warm sheets. Red silk hung from the four poster frame in a soft curtain around you and the mattress felt soft and pillowy under your body. Sitting up in confusion you glanced around the room. A marble fire held a stoked flame that cast gentle flickers of light across the oaken floor. A plush burgundy rug splayed across the centre of the room whilst a large side table held a plate of fresh fruits and flowers, everything you looked at had a faint pearlecent shimmer, almost unnoticeable, flitting in and out of your vision.

A knock came from the door and drew you attention as Magnus stepped in, bowing slightly to avoid the frame of the door. He flashed you a charming smile when he saw you awake and alert and, collecting the silver platter, he swept over to your bedside and offered the delicacies towards you. His silver robes sparkled against his ruddy skin as he moved. You eyed them suspiciously before shrugging and taking a ripe berry and popping it in your mouth, savouring the sweet juice as it flooded your mouth, all the while, Magnus eye never left your face as he watched you pick through the fruit.

"I'm sorry"

He cocked his eyebrow at your words. "Sorry?"

You nodded "You came to help and I was rude to you, so I'm sorry" your eyes twitched to his face before looking away as you continued. "I guess id heard all the stories and just..."

He shook his head, his red mane tumbling around his shoulders "I understand. The..." He paused for a moment and sighed "the imperial truth, as they call it, is hard to avoid" he lay the plate on the blanket beside you and gently patted your leg under the fabric. Heat traveled to your core and you felt yourself flush at his touch."You are safe here, rest until you are well enough to travel and we can arrange to return you to imperium space" he rose from his seat and turned to leave, the air around him shimmered and flickered for a moment, like static. You blinked and it was gone.

"wait"

He froze at your voice, throwing a glance over his broad shoulders.

"keep me company?"

He smiled and for a moment you thought you saw a shadow pass over his face, a hint of something darker in his expression, but as quick as it came, it was gone. He returned to the foot of the bed and the mattress caved under his weight. "Of course, little one" he reached out and ran his finger along the the form of your thigh under the shining material. You shuddered at his touch, and your body moved on its own, your head so full of clouds and muffled you couldn't think as you shimmied out from the covers and crawled over towards him, reaching for his large thigh. His smile grew larger as you caressed his thigh, his skin dark against you pale hand.

Wait wasn't he wearing a robe

All your thoughts seemed to slip from your grasp and your body moved on its own as you slipped your hand along his carved abs, along his chest before reaching his face. You edge forward as he turned the rest of his body to face you fully, sliding across his thigh as you brought your lips towards his. His large hands roamed your body gently caressing your bare curves, tickling the soft skin of your thighs

"beautiful" you muttered, stroking his cheek before pressing a chaste kiss against his soft mouth and tangling your hands into his locks. He tasted like spice and ozone and you moaned as he found your ass, squeezing the soft fat of your rear. Taking advantage he pushed his tongue past your lips, leaning into you until your back was against the sheet and he was hunched over you, your thighs spread around his wide hips. A heated touch found a breast and you arched into his touch as he rolled your tender nipple between his fingers, pinching the nub until you were gasping his name, your own hand clutching his wrist weakly as he toyed with you.

He pulled back from you and eyed you hungrily, static building up in the air around him, fracturing around him, flashes of colour and darkness appearing and vanishing around him. A flutter of wings echoed around the room and you dragged your eyes away from the primarch, lured by the sound. He quickly caught your chin between his fingers and brought you face back to look at him.

"eyes on me, little one" he cooed gently, relishing the sudden look of shock on your face as you felt his erection grind against you. "This was what you wanted, wasn't it?" He ran the length of his dick along your wet pussy, coating it in your slick as he rubbed against you, his tip spreading your lower lips apart and bumping into your clit as he moved. You gasped and whined underneath him, you mind wiped of all thoughts except to satisfy him, to have him take you over and over"

"please, Magnus" you whimpered , thrusting your hips up to meet him and clawing at his broad shoulders. He laughed, but the sweetness once in his was gone as he thrust into you suddenly, stretching you to your limit without any chance to adjust, he grunted as he felt your wet walls twitch around his cock as he entered you. Throwing your head back you groaned and hissed as he drew his length slowly back out before thrusting back in, over and over he fucked into you, his lips finding the exposed skin of your neck as he nibbled and sucked, leaving marks everywhere he touched you.

"so pretty, so good to me" he whispered in your ear, finally moving his fingers from your abused nipple to circle your puffy clit, circling the tender nub slowly as he ground into you. "So perfect" he continued to whisper sweet things in your ear and he fucked you, promises of sweet caresses and endless knowledge as his hard cock stroked the spot deep inside you that made your gut coil like a spring. " Say you'll stay" he uttered, voice like music as he continued to bury himself in your tight cunt.

"yes yes YES" you cried, cumming around his as he continued to fuck you through it.

His grinned and kissed you sweetly, allowing you to soak in the illusion he created.

In reality, Giant taloned hands clawed at your flesh as the demon prince pressed you into the rotten mattress, the silk sheets were faded and torn and the fire had been dead longer than the flower that rotted in the table. Magnus reached around your waist and pulled you up, seating you on his dick and relishing the noises you and your pussy made as he bounced you up and down on his length. Wisps of warp energy swirled around you, spreading your ass cheeks and caressing the puckered hole and sliding in, causing you to writhe and shake at the sudden intrusion, feeling yourself get fucked in both holes, your eyes rolled back in your head and your rocked against the sensation, drool pooling down your chin as the last sensibility was fucked from you.

Massive horns curved out of the sorcerers head and shaded you as he glared down with an eye lit with electric energy. His great wings spasmed and twitched as he edged closer to finishing and your head rolled forward weakly as he snarled, pulling you down harshly as he came inside you, his member twitching as he shot thick ropes of cum inside you.

He held you close, great chest heaving as he gulped in air crackling with aether before lifting you with surprising gentleness and placing you on the mattress, rotten and warped with age and decay, but to you, lost in the illusion he had crafted for you alone, it was as soft as down.

You whined at the sudden empty feel and He looked down at you, your pupils wide from arousal and magic as you gazed back. He rose to his great clawed feet, talons carving grooves in the floor as he moved. "Rest now, you need to heal"

"my lord" you sighed, so sweetly "will you really let me stay with you?"

He hummed and dragged finger across your forehead "of course my sweet thing"

He turned and left the room, locking the door as he went.

It wasn't like you had a choice anyway.

[lanormie]

blipped - mcu crossover au (pt. 1)

you're forced to navigate the aftermath of The Blip, where half of the population get thrown back into existence after disappearing for five years. pairing: pro-hero!Shouto x f!pro-hero!reader (ft. slight katsuki x reader) read on AO3 pt. 2

“You’re distracted.”

Shouto’s even tone echoes throughout the training ground. Normally the fake terrains and obstacles would absorb all the sounds uttered within the large underground stadium, but considering the fact that he just wiped the floor with you and knocked everything over, he doesn’t have to raise his voice to remind you that your game has been way off since yesterday.

“I know, I know. Ugh.” You groan out from somewhere under the rubble. “Woah, watch your step, Sho.” You squeak as something starts to press down on the thick layer of debris that is blanketing you. The extremely light material is not a concern, but with the weight of your tall friend added, your spine might file a complaint. 

“Oh. My apology.” Shouto swiftly backs off from his search, opting to wait for you to hurl the rubble aside using your telekinesis instead. Seeing that you are making no effort to stand back up, he sighs and sits down on a nearby fake boulder. “He’ll be back soon, you know.”

“It’s not that.” You shake your head. You are at this point quite used to your boyfriend being on missions that lasted weeks or even months. You would find yourself being on the other end too sometimes – just the bread and butter of being a pro-hero. “Don’t you think it’s weird that the Commission demanded every single agency to send someone on an emergency trip to Wakanda? They were even picked up by a helicarrier.”

“It certainly has something to do with the Avengers.” Shouto quietly muses, mostly to himself. 

“Exactly!” You throw your arms up in exasperation. “Like when’s the last time they weren’t involved in some world ending event?” Your voice goes quiet as well, a million grim scenarios flashing behind your eyes.

Shouto silently watches as you take a breath and slowly sit up, leftover pieces of debris rolling off of you and dropping on the ground in sad little clacks.

He’s never been good at deciphering moods, but oddly enough, you have always been an exception. Perhaps having been close friends since you were both snot-nosed kindergarteners plays a role in helping him read you like an open book. And said book is currently telling him that no amount of training shall be accomplished today. 

“Katsuki is tough,” He pipes up. “He’ll be just fine. Come on.” He stands up and holds his hand out. You take it and start to stand up. “Let’s go get some hot choco–”

You suddenly lose momentum as your hand grasps at nothing but dust. You don’t even feel the impact of falling back down onto the ground as you watch his whole form disintegrate into tiny particles. 

“Sho? Shouto!!”

Shooting back up to reach for the mass of flying ash that hasn't yet disappeared, you immediately fall down again. What is going on? Why are my legs giving out?! You look down and your eyes widen at the sight of your limbs quickly turning into gray dust. There’s a high pitched ringing in your ears for a split second before all sounds are abruptly cut off, and you slip into nothingness.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Static.

.

Light.

.

Air.

.

Weight.

.

Some kind of muffled noise squeezing its way into your ears.

.

You hit the ground hard as the pile of rubble under you is no longer there. It knocks all your senses back into place and immediately you hear yelling and multiple boots running towards you.

“Holy shit?! Y/N! Shouto!”

…huh? Shouto? Shouto!

You snap your head up and let out a relieved exhale when you see your two-toned friend in one piece, slowly pushing himself off the ground before being thrown into a bone-crushing hug from a blur of red.

Before you can make out who it is, you get lifted off the ground by the torso and find yourself in your own bone crushing hug, familiar pink curls tickling your nose. Their owner sobs into your hair, broken strings of repeated ‘you’re alive’ and ‘we missed you’ mumbled between sniffles. You hesitantly run your hand up and down her back to offer comfort as questions start to rise in the back of your head.

“Hey Mina.” You squeak out, trying to figure out what question to ask first. When did she get here? Why is she crying?

Did she get taller?

You look over to Shouto as the blur of red pulls back to reveal someone who scarily resembles Kirishima, though much more massive and with much longer hair that gets tied up in a ponytail. The man struggles between cackling and crying as he reaches for the comms in his ear.

“Anyone copy? They’re back. Guys–” He takes a shaky and congested inhale. “Shouto and Y/N are bac– No I’m not fucking with you. Simulation Dome, right now.”

Mina finally pulls back from you and quickly joins the comms. “Guys wait! Somebody check Denki’s old office please!” 

While they’re going back and forth into their earpiece, you and Shouto exchange a confused glance. Then all of a sudden, you are acutely aware of your surroundings. 

You’re not even sure you’re in the same training ground anymore. What used to look like a giant black box theater is now decked out in highly realistic props, expensive looking crane bots moving about repairing things and dismantling set pieces. The operation booth is no longer off to a corner and is now behind a massive glass wall, hanging above one end of the stadium. How did we afford all this? We’re a scrappy agency run by scrappy 20 year olds!

The entrance to the dome is kicked open and a bunch of familiar faces storm in, including Denki who looks like a lost puppy as he’s being carried in bridal style by a teary Sero. As Mina and Kiri zoom over to further crowd Denki, you zero in on a pair of crimson eyes. 

You both freeze in place.

Your boyfriend looks so, so different. His features are even sharper than before. There are scars on his face that weren’t there when you last saw him. A new but somehow already fading tattoo peeks out from under his shirt collar. He doesn’t seem much taller, but he’s bulkier than the Katsuki you used to know.

And he’s staring at you like he’s seen a ghost.

Just how long have you been gone for?

You felt something resembling time passing while you were stuck in that entropy, but you aren’t sure of the exact amount.

Doesn’t matter, you deduced, the important thing is that he is alive after whatever mission it was with the Avengers. 

Before you know it, your feet take you one, then two steps, then the next dozen steps towards him. Closing the distance by wrapping your arms around his neck, you feel him stiffen as he takes short and stuttered breaths. Trying not to dwell on it, you croak into his chest.

“Hi Kats.” 

He doesn’t reply for a moment and remains impossibly still in your grasp. Anxiety threatens to prickle your throat before you chalk it up to him being in shock, if Mina and Kiri’s reaction a few minutes ago is anything to go by. 

After a few excruciating seconds, his hands finally come up to rest on your back. 

“Hi.” He whispers, breathless.

The hands on your back quickly abandon their hesitant touch and start bunching your shirt in their tight fist as his arms squeeze you in an iron grip. You relish in his comforting sugary scent as he smushes his face into your hair, it becoming damper and damper with each of his deep inhales and exhales. 

“Kats, how long have I–”

“Guys! What’s going on?” An unfamiliar female voice rings out from near the entrance.

Katsuki abruptly untangles from you and drags a hand down his face to roughly wipe the salty trail of tears. The hand stops in front of his mouth as his eyes dart away from your questioning gaze.

“Our blipped friends came back!” Kiri exclaims from the commotion around Denki and Shouto as he lifts a hand to wave the person over. “Come say hi!” He turns back towards the crowd and as soon as you make eye contact, he suddenly seems to realize something and his sunny expression immediately drops.

The owner of the unfamiliar voice treads forward and you’re met with lovely teal eyes and equally lovely teal tresses. She offers Denki and Shouto a bright smile as everyone simultaneously tries to introduce them to each other, resulting in a cacophony of sounds which you could only pick out the word “sidekick” from.

She starts walking over to you and Katsuki visibly gulps. Before you can utter a word of greeting, she gently reaches for Katsuki’s hand and your stomach free falls into the core of the Earth. 

No. There’s no way.

You feel your back ice over as you stare at where their hands connect. You see her uncomfortably shift her weight for a bit until she looks over to Katsuki in question, but you make no effort to look away. After what feels like hours, Katsuki clears his throat.

“Michiko, this is Y/N. Y/N, this– um,” he pauses for something, then decides to go through with it. “This is Michiko, my fiance.”

Your eyes snap up to his, begging the fuck out of his pardon. Fiance? Fiance?!

“I’m sorry what?”

The ringing in your ears returns and it feels like you’re being sucked into nothingness again.

Katsuki opens his mouth to say something, but an alarm blaring from the loudspeakers quickly cuts everyone off. 

“Emergency. All hands on deck. Report to team leader in 60 seconds. Emergency. All hands on deck. Report to team leader in 60 seconds. Emergency.” 

On a normal day the sound would snap you out of any trance and get you to your feet, but this time you can’t bring yourself to move. Numbness has completely taken over.

As everyone rushes out, saved for you and Shouto, Katsuki lingers at the doorway for a moment before he speaks.

“We’ll talk after I get back. Stay here.” He peers at you with an expression that’s almost pleading. “Please?”

He grimaces when you don’t answer, and hurries away.

You don’t stay. You can’t stay.

Ignoring Shouto’s call for you, you head for the other exit and make a run for the only place you can be alone. Home.

this is my 1st fic plz be very gentle 👉👈 (eng is not my 1st language u could probably tell)

[special-agent-sass]

Elevator Passions

Warnings

Smut

Y/N sauntered into the bullpen, leather jacket squeaking as she walked. She headed straight for her desk, not making eye contact with anyone. The rest of the team watched her warily. Ever since her blow up with Gibbs last week, she'd been quiet and closed off.

Tony sidled up next to her desk. "So, Y/N/N, you coming out with us tonight?" He gave her his most charming smile.

She didn't even glance at him. "Not really in the mood, DiNozzo."

McGee piped up from his desk. "Come on, Y/N. It'll be fun!"

"Yeah, we haven't seen you outside of work in weeks," Tony wheedled.

Y/N finally looked up, pinning them both with an icy stare. "I said no. Now drop it."

Tony and McGee exchanged a look but didn't press the issue. Ever since Y/N had joined the team a little over a year ago, she'd been like a little sister to them. Former Marine, tough as nails, and beautiful to boot. But lately, something had changed.

Gibbs strolled in then, coffee in hand. "Gear up. Dead petty officer in Anacostia."

The team scrambled to collect their things. As they headed to the elevator, Gibbs grabbed Y/N's arm.

"You good for this?" His steely blue eyes searched hers.

Y/N yanked her arm away. "I'm fine."

Gibbs studied her a moment longer before giving a curt nod. They joined the others in the elevator, tension thick between them.

At the crime scene, Y/N immediately got to work photographing evidence while McGee bagged and tagged. Tony interviewed witnesses while Gibbs examined the body.

"Single gunshot wound to the back," Ducky pronounced. "No exit wound, so the bullet likely fragmented inside the body. I'll know more once I get him home."

Gibbs grunted in acknowledgment. He glanced over at Y/N, crouched low as she took photos. The sight of her ripped jeans stretched tight over her curves made his mouth go dry. Shaking himself, he turned back to Ducky. "Time of death?"

"Based on liver temp, I'd say between midnight and 2am."

Gibbs nodded, then went to check on his agents' progress. McGee had finished collecting evidence, Tony was wrapping up his interviews, and Y/N was scribbling notes about the scene.

Back at the navy yard, the team dug into the victim's background. Petty Officer James Rourke, 25, was a communications technician stationed out of Norfolk. No wife or kids, parents both deceased.

"Looks like Rourke had a bit of a gambling problem," McGee announced. "Some large cash withdrawals over the past few months that far exceed his salary."

"Owed money to the wrong people, maybe?" Tony speculated.

Gibbs turned to Y/N. "Bring up his financials, see if you can trace where the money was going."

Y/N's eyes flashed with anger. "You don't need to tell me how to do my job."

"When you're acting like a probationary agent, then yeah, I do," Gibbs shot back.

Y/N shot to her feet. "Just because I won't kiss your ass like Tony doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing."

"Hey!" Tony protested.

"You make one more outburst like that, you'll be riding a desk till you retire," Gibbs threatened. "You got that?"

Y/N stepped close until they were nearly nose to nose. Gibbs could feel her breath on his face, see the fire in her eyes.

"I could ride you instead" she taunted. "Clearly that's what you'd prefer."

Tony's jaw dropped. McGee's eyes bugged out. The bullpen went deadly silent.

Gibbs clenched his jaw, hands fisting at his sides. "With me. Now." He stormed off towards the elevator.

Y/N followed, chin held high. The doors slid shut behind them. Gibbs flipped the emergency stop switch, halting the car between floors.

He turned to Y/N, eyes blazing. "You ever speak to me like that again—"

"You'll what?" Y/N cut him off. "Spank me?" She stepped closer, breasts brushing his chest. "We both know you've wanted to bend me over your desk since I got here."

Gibbs swallowed hard. "It's against protocol." But even as he said it, his hands grasped her hips, pulling her against him.

"Screw protocol," Y/N hissed before crushing her lips to his.

Gibbs groaned into the kiss, backing her against the elevator wall. Their mouths clashed hungrily as his hands slid under her shirt, finding smooth, warm skin. Y/N nipped his bottom lip as she frantically unbuckled his belt.

Breaking the kiss, Gibbs rasped into her ear, "We shouldn't..." But his protest died as she wrapped her fingers around him. He shuddered, head falling back.

"I need this, Jethro," Y/N pleaded breathlessly. "Make me forget everything else."

Surrendering, Gibbs hoisted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. Their clothes disappeared in a frenzy of tearing fabric and grasping hands. Then he was inside her, swallowing her cries with his mouth as he took her hard against the elevator wall.

After, collapsed in a sweaty, panting heap on the floor, Gibbs pressed a kiss to her hair. "I've wanted this...wanted you...for a long time," he admitted gruffly.

Y/N nuzzled his cheek. "Me too. Rules be damned."

Gibbs smiled and pulled her close. Protocol could wait. Right now, he had everything he needed.