For Forever With You - Pt 1

For Forever With You - Pt 1

***It's been a looooong time since I've written and I deeply apologize! However I'm back with our favourite wizard man! A long time ago, I wrote a little fic called "A Magical Bond" and now, after at least a year and a half, we go back to that MC and Solomon and discover their story. This is going to be a series with a new part for each era of their life that I cover. Thanks @jxcyt for the inspiration! I hope you enjoy 😊 -B ***

Summary: Two humans — one plain and dreadfully average, the other an immortal who thought he had seen an experienced it all. In any other world, they would go most of their lives without ever meeting and be destined for another, but not in this one.

1920s

Trumpets and saxophones swelled around Solomon as he sipped on a martini, observing the dazzling lights and sparkling dresses at the dive bar he had found on his way home.

Despite all the noise and glamour, he couldn't help but smile.

This was what he loved about humanity. The vibrancy. The life.

The last few decades had been so drab in comparison with all the dark colours and constricting societal rules but now ...

He laughed as a woman squealed as her partner twirled her before extending her out away from him. The two giggled before continuing to do the Charleston around each other with their arms waving about.

It looked fun. Solomon made a mental note to try and learn it before it went out of style.

"Pardon me, sir. Did you want a refill on your drink?"

He glanced down at the now-empty glass, before looking up. He felt his eyes widen as he took in your face. "It's you!" He couldn't help but shout in surprise, taking a second to take in your appearance — the serving uniform you were wearing looked exquisite on you. It was quite different from the modest, neck-high garbs that he had last seen you in, though he supposed that was due in part to the change in times. He glanced around from you to the rambunctious crowd around the two of you. "What are you doing in a place like this? Last I checked, it was 1910 and you were a cute, quiet librarian making a modest living."

You cracked a smile, pouring his drink with the same delicate, professional touch that he remembered you carrying even as you shelved books. "The war, for starters. Library couldn't afford to stay open."

Solomon huffed, taking a hearty gulp of his drink. "Shame. I quite like your little collection of books. It was a quiet haven. I'll miss it."

"I'm aware," you responded with a teasing lilt in your voice that caught the wizard's attention. "You swung by nearly every day. To be honest, I'm as surprised to see you here as you are to see me."

Solomon paused taking a moment to observe the situation. Both of you, not quiet strangers but not quiet friends, find yourselves at the same woefully tasteless speakeasy and happen to find each other. The smile on your face told him that's a good thing. And maybe it was the alcohol, but while he usually doesn't allow himself to get too close to mortals, there was something about the sparkle in your eyes that was drawing him in like a moth to the flame.

It had always been that way with you. He still vividly remembered the first time he ran into your quaint library to escape the rain, and there you were, warm and light, offering him a towel to dry off with and tea. He was hardly one to say no to such welcoming company. When he returned a second time, he had told you it was for the books, and that was true in part — you had quite the collection of vintage scripts he hadn't had the opportunity to read in some time — but he wanted to observe the compassionate creature that had taken him in. It wasn't long before coming to the library, perusing your stock, and people-watching became a hobby of his.

There was a strange ache in his chest when he went to visit you again one day, only to find the door boarded up and windows darkened.

He smiled and leaned in closer to you, "Perhaps I'm more than just the bookworm you thought I was. You seem well aware that a person can have several facets to themselves," he tilted his head, eyes flickering towards the door before returning to yours once more. "Would you care to learn mine?"

Your eyes widened, and he couldn't help but feel his smile grow as an adorably flustered look fretted across your expression. "I- I um-" you chuckled nervously, "You're more sly than I thought. I didn't take you for a cake-eater, mr ...." You blinked in sudden confusion. "Oh. All those visits to the library and I never caught your name."

"Solomon," he explained with a smirk. "And I meant no harm with my offer. Just a walk together on this lovely night and a bit of good conversation. It's been a while. I'm sure there's a story of how you ended up here."

You hummed, fiddling with the cocktail mixer still in your hands. "That don't sound too bad, I suppose," you glanced back at the clock over the bar. "My shift ends in about an hour and a half. Think you can wait?"

"Time is fickle and good company is rare and far between," your breath caught at his words as his knowing silver eyes locked onto yours. "Get back to work. I'll be back here when you're done ... though maybe a name to associate with my new companion before you leave."

"MC," you quickly offered, almost too quickly. "M-My name is MC. I-I um, yes. Back to work!"

He watched you go, his chest warm with the promise of something new, something exciting, something fun.

Gods, he hadn't felt this alive in centuries. He set down his drink and leaned back, simply enjoying the thriving atmosphere once more.

Nearly two hours later, the two of you were laughing as you walked through the empty city streets.

"There's no way," you cackled, fanning your face with your hand as your shoulders hitched. "There is no possible way that 's true."

"Well it is," Solomon teasingly reassured. "I presented his lordship with cookies that I spent at least a day preparing and they were so delightful, the man fainted on the spot. I am an excellent cook, I'll have you know."

He soaked in the sight of your head thrown back in laughter, the moon casting you in its mysterious glow and glittering off the embellishments of your uniform — a natural masterpiece. He had always been an admirer of humanity and the strange yet fascinating quirks it possessed but with you there was something drawing him in like the strongest undertow. As though the pulls of your charisma and beauty were the deadly tide and he was a sailor lost at sea. How tempting it was to let himself drown.

It was a draw he hadn't experienced since he tasted his first licks of magic.

"Solomon," he blinked himself out of his thoughts to see your hand waving in front of his face. A soft smile eased onto your face as you met eyes. "Thought you were lost there for a moment. Am I boring you that much?"

Warmth filled his chest as he smiled in return and took one of your hands into his own. "Quite the contrary."

The lovely flustered expression returned to your face once more. "Aren't you quite the flatterer," you chuckled staring at your two hands interlocked.

He hummed, never once taking his eyes off you. "Is that an issue?"

Sparks run up his spine as he felt you gently squeeze his hand. "Not so long as I'm the one you're flirting with."

A smile split across his face, "That can be arranged."

The night was one Solomon wouldn't forget. It was the first night he got to know you, really know you. You took turns asking each other questions, hands glued together, completely oblivious to the hours slipping by. The only care the two of you had was what would happen after it was time to say goodbye.

Turns out it didn't need to be a concern.

Solomon visited you in and outside of work frequently. The two of you would sneak away and Solomon would take you to all of his favourite places — little pieces of paradise that he liked to escape to when the world became too much. It wasn't something that he shared often but, as with anything related to you, you were the exception.

It was almost frightening how easy it was to open up to you. Solomon wouldn't describe himself as a particularly guarded person, but he appreciated some distance, it was safer that way. There were moments were he considered the thought that maybe you were a trap sent by someone he had annoyed. That you were charmed specifically for him to fall for.

He did research. He ran tests as subtly as he could without your clever mind catching on. The conclusion he came to was not one he had ever anticipated.

You weren't a trap designed for his destruction.

You were his soulmate.

He had heard of the concept before. They were rare and more of a child's tale than anything else. He had never actually met anyone with a genuine soulmate and as such, thought them to be nothing by horsefeathers.

But he couldn't deny it. There was a connection he felt to you the second he met you. You understood him in a way he had never encountered before. You were brilliant, and oh-so curious about everything around you. You grounded him and made him high all at once.

You were his other half.

It was a one in a million chance. One that he wasn't so keen to let go of.

The same day that Solomon made his realization, he bought a bouquet of flowers and took you to the same street the two of you had walked down until dawn.

"MC," he questioned softly as you swung your joined hands and looked at the bustling streets around you.

"Hm?" You hummed in acknowledgment, taking a second to sniff the white chrysanthemums and red primroses that he had gifted you.

"Will you allow me to court you?"

He expected sputtering, or that adorable bashful expression you get when he teases you, or perhaps laughter from shock. But he got none of that.

Instead, you cocked your eyebrow at him as you glanced over to him from the side of your eye. "Are we not already courting?"

Solomon felt his cheeks grow red as he stopped in his tracks and looked at you. "I beg your pardon?"

You snorted as gathered his arm with yours and pulled him back into pace alongside you once more. "We've been flirting with one another, going on unsupervised dates, and exchanging gifts for months now. I thought we were courting this whole time, you fool," you paused as realization struck you. "B-But um, if you didn't, then I ... I apologize if I was too forward or-"

"NO!" Solomon loudly amended, earning strange looks from the passerbys on the street around you. He waved at them in apologies before dragging you into a nearby ally. "No. That's not the case at all! I just thought we were being friendly and teasing one another!"

Your face only grew more flush at his words. "What? If that's friendly to you, then what in the world would courting mean to you?!"

He smirked as he leaned down close into your space, your back quickly finding the surface of the brick building behind you. "With any luck, and your permission, perhaps a kiss or two," your breath hitched as his hand came up to cup your cheek. "Telling you how when I see you, the sun ceases to exist as your light and radience is enough to warm me in even the cruelest of winters. Expressing that each time your eyes find mine, I'm taken back to that rainy little book shop and the sincere librarian who lived within it. Being sure that everyone knows exactly how much I love you."

"Solomon," you breathed, your voice threaded with utter awe that pooled in your eyes.

"I'll ask you again," he took another step closer. Your chests brushed against one another as the toes your shoes met. He could practically feel the frantic beating of your heart thrashing under your skin. "Will you allow me to court you? To love you and have you love me in turn?"

The bouquet that had been in your hands met the ground as you wound your arms around his neck and dragged his face down to meet yours.

A thousand lifetimes crashed into this one single moment, and for a second, Solomon felt so heartachingly mortal and timeless all at once. Your lips were richer than the oldest wines and equally addicting. They wrapped him with a powerful passion that he hadn't known he was missing. It was as though your souls had finally intertwined and were now waltzing the in the intimacy of your embrace.

He pressed his forehead against yours as you both pulled away. Your breath painted his shoulder as he felt your chest heave against him.

"Wow."

He couldn't help but laugh at your reaction, pulling you closer to him. "Is it safe for me to take this as an acceptance of my courting?"

You giggled, pecking his lips once more before bending down to pick up your discarded bouquet. "Of course it's a yes," you smirked as you batted his chest with the flowers. "It would've been a yes if you asked me properly months ago."

The smile that decorated his face was bigger and brighter than any smile he had ever worn before. He shook his head to himself took after you, ready chase after what little time with you had for every drop it was worth.

***And that's the first part of this Prequel! From here we'll be jumping to the 1930s for some pre-WW2 and then go from there! Hope you all enjoy! Thank you so much for your love and support!***

TAGLIST:

@thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @poly-bi-mf @burrixino @rul-of-demise @pumpkins-mainside-blog @acousticpen @sucker-for-angst-and-fluff @itskrispy @10paradox10 @vallison-rea @ivoryclive @newfangled-artistry @pumpkinpatchkid @chirikoheina @sailboat21 @theother4 @todoroses @circus-of-freaks @mcx7demonbros @bloopthebat

The Brothers Crying & How to Comfort Them

“I love all the OM! boys! I just want the best for them *crushes them in my fist*”

Hope this wasn’t too repetitive! I tried to write it so it could be platonic or romantic, depending on your preference.

Thanks to @avatarofcuriousity for the concept and help with the bros <3

  Content warnings: chapter 16 spoilers, angst lol

Lucifer

You already know. It takes a lot for this dude to cry.

If Lucifer cries around you, that’s how you know he’s in it for the long haul. It takes an ASTOUNDING amount of trust for him to even consider being that vulnerable around you. If he cries in your presence, or even seeks comfort from you, he’s saying he trusts you with his whole soul. The Avatar of Pride doesn’t give that to just anybody.

He’s one of those lucky folks that can, for the most part, blink back their tears.

When he does cry, it’s as if he’s still trying to hide it. He’s not overly loud, and mainly sniffles. He already has to be in extreme distress to cry in the first place, but if he’s on the higher end of that, he lets out quiet, breathy sobs.

His cheeks and nose redden slightly; it’s a heartbreaking version of that blush you know and love.

He doesn’t often hug you on his own. He either starts crying while you’re already in his arms, or keeps to himself.

How to comfort him: Wrap your arms around him and card your fingers through his hair. He appreciates head kisses, if you’re comfortable giving them. Don’t soothe him verbally, though– despite the good intentions behind them, any words of affirmation only remind him of his vulnerability.

Mammon

Also ashamed of crying. After centuries of being mocked whenever you get upset, who wouldn’t be?

Pretty good at hiding it. He can mostly hold back his tears, but sometimes the dam breaks and they fall against his will. At that point, he tries to subtly wipe them and make an Irish exit

When he’s trying to cover it up, you can see how his breathing changes— it quickens, then gets really slow, deep and deliberate once he takes notice. So even if he seems fine, the dramatic rise and fall of his chest gives it away to those close to him.

If he lets himself cry around you, that’s a huge sign of trust. Very much like Lucifer in that regard.

Holds you like you’ll vanish if he lets go. He tucks his head into the crook of your neck, squeezing his eyes shut and nearly crushing you in his arms. He sniffles, but more out of instinct than actual need.

Mammon has a lot of pent-up emotions, so it all comes tumbling out when he finally releases them. He whimpers and cries into your shoulder, only letting go when he’s mostly calmed down.

How to comfort him: Murmur sweet nothings into his ear. Reassure him. Rub his back softly, and remind him that you’ll be there until he feels okay again.

Levi

Doesn’t need to cry as much as his brothers, if only because he cries over anime and manga regularly.

Tears start rolling down his cheeks before he realizes what’s wrong. By time he notices that he’s crying, it’s too late to hide it.

Levi’s sobs are quiet, but audible from the next room over. He tries to muffle them or hold them in as best he can.

Curls up on himself when he’s upset. Feeling small makes him feel safe, and he’s too afraid to hug anyone— especially you. He doesn’t think you’d want to touch him, or even be around him when he's like this.

He’s insecure about how much his face reddens while crying, so he tries to hide it behind his arms or hands.

How to comfort him: Hold him, rub his back, put your chin on his shoulder, and have a box of tissues within reach. You can trace patterns or draw things on his back to distract him. Once he’s starting to calm down, he’ll try and guess what you’re drawing. Press a kiss to his head or shoulder, if you feel comfortable doing so. He’ll short circuit and maybe cry harder, but at least those tears are happy ones. Baby steps.

Satan

After doing it for so long, Satan finds it easy to disconnect from the outside world.

So yes, he does shed a few tears over his novels, but crying for himself is another thing.

Satan has to hold intense emotions back for every waking moment. When he finally lets go, there’s a lot to process.

He almost drapes himself over you, gripping the back of your shirt ’til his knuckles are white. His face presses into your nape. Loud, powerful sobs wrack his frame hard enough to make him retch.

How to comfort him: Pull him close, or into your lap, if possible. Cup the back of his head and press kisses to wherever you can reach. Rub his back, or run your hand up and down his sides. Do whatever you can to show your love, because this is likely the first time he’s ever felt taken care of.

Asmo

Finally, at least one brother has a kind of healthy relationship with his emotions.

He doesn’t announce it, but he cries regularly in the shower. Stress is bad for the skin, y’know? It’s best to get it out when you need to.

And of course he’s a pretty crier. Rosy cheeks, sniffles, soft whimpers, the works.

Possibly the only brother who seeks you out for comfort before breaking down. He knocks timidly on your door, a small voice asking to be let in. Once he’s on your bed and in your arms, he breathes out a shaky sigh. The tears start falling from there.

Asmo will bring a box of Kleenex with him. He doesn’t want to get tears on your clothes, but they also dry out his skin and that simply isn’t an option.

How to comfort him: Asmo likes soft comfort. Cradle him in your arms, pet his hair, hold his hand. Tracing hearts on his back helps him cheer up once he realizes what you’re doing. If you’re feeling bold, cup his face and wipe a tear with your thumb— that’ll earn you a smile and a sniffly “Ooh, I didn’t know you were such a romantic, MC~.”

Beel

Not usually a crier. He tears up at movies, but doesn’t cry for real life stuff… in the moment.

After a long day, when everyone’s gone to sleep, Beel lies in bed and gets it all out at once. Staring at the ceiling, he sniffles and whines as he tries to keep quiet. He doesn't really have anywhere else to go, but he doesn't want to wake Belphie. (Belphie senses something’s wrong and wakes up anyway, don’t worry. He’s always there to take care of him.)

When he stops holding back, he weeps freely, but his cries are still soft and breathy.

Doesn’t really look for comfort because he knows his brothers are also going through a lot. Beel wants to be strong for them. He doesn’t want to be a burden.

How to comfort him: Sit in his lap and let him bury his face in your shoulder. He’s aware of his strength, and still treats you like glass, but his hold is firm. He grips your shirt really tightly. Reassure him in a soft voice. Play with his hair, rub or draw patterns on his back, trace his tattoos, give him little kisses if you feel like it. He may be big, but he’s delicate. Please be tender with him.

Belphie

Like Satan, Belphie also disconnects from the outside world.

He's an angry crier, but other than that, you don't get much out of him.

When he's really upset, though, it all comes pouring out. Belphegor rarely cries, but damn, is he good at it.

As he comes to befriend you, the memory of your murder gets more and more nauseating. During naps with you, his mind occasionally drags him back to that moment.

He wakes up, pillow already soaked with tears, and sees you next to him. He throws his arms around you, his clutch desperate and suffocating ironic lmao. Belphie howls, his breathing ragged as he pulls you as close as physically possible. He chokes and stumbles on apology after apology, begging you not to leave.

How to comfort him: Hold him tightly and pet his hair. Rub his back. Remind him over and over that it’s okay, I’m alright, I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒

˖ ݁ . ࿓ includes — bakugo katsuki, midoriya izuku, takami keigo (hawks), todoroki touya (dabi), tomura shigaraki

˖ ݁ . ࿓ content warnings — possessiveness, a little suggestive

˖ ݁ . ࿓ BAKUGO does not stand for people disrespecting your relationship by flirting with you—and in front of him, no less. he’s proud of everything he has earned in life, including you. so when someone thinks they can get away with coming onto you, he’s visibly fuming. it’s never your fault, but he can’t help but pull you behind him and shield you from hungry eyes and eager hands. most people are wise enough to want to leave when they’re faced with him, but bakugo isn’t letting them go anywhere without saying a few choice words of his own. his yelling elicits stares from bystanders but that’s the least of his concerns. before he tells them to get lost, he makes them apologize to you for putting you in an uncomfortable situation. he’s a lot more touchy than usual after encounters such as those.

˖ ݁ . ࿓ DEKU is the silent type. he thinks that jealousy is an ugly emotion and doesn’t like letting it get the better of him. that doesn’t mean he isn’t mildly irritated when someone thinks they can make a move on you. though, in order to not cause conflict, he thinks it’s best to let the situation run its natural course—ending with your rejection, of course. but he’s always ready to step in if your admirer is getting particularly pushy. while he waits for those events to play out, he’ll stand by with a cold gaze, biting the inside of his cheek to make sure he doesn’t say anything he might regret. it’s impossible to not feel that intense stare boring into you, which is usually what gets the offender to back off if you haven’t quite made it to that stage yet. izuku’s charming smile is back as soon as you two are alone.

˖ ݁ . ࿓ HAWKS isn’t one to let emotions get in the way of rationality, but he’s not going to sit back and watch someone hit on you as if he’s not there. there’s a glint in his eyes that serves as a warning to whoever is getting a little too close for comfort. but since he has an image to upkeep, there’s still a lazy smile present on his lips and he makes an effort to keep the interaction as civil as he can given the circumstances. all of a sudden he’s initiating subtle but telling touches like wrapping his arm around your waist and pressing kisses to your temple. his hope is that they take the hint and leave you be, but if they don’t, he politely excuses you both. it’s hard to tell from just looking at him and his carefree expression, but behind those golden eyes, he’s seeing red.

˖ ݁ . ࿓ DABI is incredibly possessive and does not take well to people hitting on you. he’s not a fan of people even looking your way so imagine how agitated he gets when he sees someone talking to you—making a move to touch you. he’s dropping whatever he’s doing, abandoning whatever conversation he was part of, and angrily stepping over to confront the person trying their luck with you. he’ll give them a chance to explain themselves but only because he likes seeing the realization and fear in their eyes. he isn’t above getting physical, so if that looks like it might be the case, it’s best that you grab him and go before he hurts someone. when you’re outside and away from everyone else, he’s holding your face in his hands and making you promise that you’re his.

˖ ݁ . ࿓ SHIGARAKI doesn’t enjoy sitting on the sidelines, but it’s his safest option given his line of work. he can’t afford to draw unwanted attention his way, so he’s forced to keep his distance and observe from afar (that is, if he doesn’t have the intention of causing trouble). he silently watches through strands of blue-grey hair, nails clawing at his neck or pulled between his teeth in an effort to keep himself from making a scene. one “innocent” touch on your arm or a confident whisper in your ear is all it takes to have him darting from his chair and dragging you away from your newfound acquaintance—not without sending them a vicious glare before your departure. you might not have been the one flirting, but he’ll have to remind you of who you belong to regardless. 

thanks for reading! comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

in the years bakugou katsuki’s friends have known him, they have learned that despite his loud and brash personality, he was a notoriously private person. he seldom posted on social media, rarely did interviews or showed up on talk shows. the media still ate him up, his evasiveness about his life outside of hero work only leaving people wondering just what he was hiding.

“are you sure this is the place, denks?”

he kept his private life hidden so well under wraps that he didn’t even tell his bestest friends in the whole wide world that he’d moved apartments. they’d found out by accident.

kaminari checks his phone again. “yeah! this place is on shinsou’s patrol route. i don’t think bakugou knows, but shin and i have seen him walk in here three times this week!”

simply entering a building on its own wouldn’t be enough to rouse suspicion. the first time, shinsou had reported that he’d seen bakugou wearing his uniform trailing behind a woman in a suit - someone from legal or pr, he assumed - and kaminari had thought it was for a witness interview and brushed it off.

the second time had been a little more unusual. it’d been bakugou on his own, dressed casually with his cap tipped low and his backpack slung over his shoulder. kaminari hadn’t had much time to think about that one because he’d been helping an old lady cross the street, so he’d just assumed he was visiting a friend or something.

the third time had been downright suspicious, because he’d seen bakugou dressed casually and carrying two bags of groceries in his arms. this occurrence had been downright suspicious, and had prompted kaminari to make a groupchat to share his findings.

kirishima glances around the busy street, humming. though it’s one of the wealthier districts in musutafu, the street is quiet, sleepy, dotted with small shops and street vendors. the closest agency is three blocks away, and it isn’t even bakugou’s. “it’s kinda far from our agency, don’t you think? it’s way off our patrol area, and his job is basically his life. why would he live here?”

“that’s what we’re here to find out,” kaminari shrugs, pocketing his phone. there’s a doorman stationed outside the building, sending the pair a polite grin as he holds the door open. “swanky place though, don’t you think? maybe i should get myself a nike deal too! then i can finally get out of shin’s place.”

___

katsuki’s just gotten out of the shower, stirring idly at the pot on the stove when he hears a knock at his front door. he flicks the heat down a notch before heading for the door to peek through the peephole.

that’s when pro-hero dynamight, number two on the hero billboards, and a role model for children everywhere, leans back and mutters, “fuck.”

another knock, a little more insistent this time. “hey, bakugou? you home? denks, if this isn’t his place this is gonna be real awkward.”

“fuck. fuck,” he glances over his shoulder at the bedroom, then back at the door. this wasn’t how everyone was supposed to find out. especially not ei and denki of all people, whose mouths were bigger than their combined iq.

he lets the analytic hero side of his brain assesses the situation first. the obvious answer is that he could just…not open the door. it’s a good, quick solution in the short term, but will still come back to bite him in the ass later. when it comes to his personal life, no wall (or door, in this case) could withstand the nosiness of his friends.

his other option was to, well, open the door. just a crack, of course. feeding the vultures a half-truth would placate them for the time being, so he could retreat and come back with a better plan.

“hey! bakugou!” kaminari cheers when he begrudgingly opens the door. “so you do live here!”

“last time i checked, yeah,” he huffs, staying planted firmly in the doorway. he treats this like he would any interview, shutting down any unwanted questions with blunt, half-answers. it’s usually enough to deter most reporters, but his friends have learned to shrug off his hostility simply because they lack any self-preservation skills.

“can we come in?” kirishima asks hopefully. “we wanna see your new place!”

“no.”

he rolls his eyes at their identical pouts. “why not?”

“because i can’t trust you both near things that can stain.” he gestures to the hall. “now can you please get out of here so i don’t burn dinner?”

“ugh, fine,” kaminari relents with a louder than necessary groan, which katsuki immediately finds suspicious, especially when the blond places a hand on his shoulder. “i gotta admit, this is a nice place, man, you did good. i’m proud of you.”

katsuki feels it a second too late– the light tingling that often precedes–

he curses through clenched teeth as kaminari shocks him with a voltage just shy of a taser, body folding as it fights the current. his so-called friends take the opportunity to push past him and into his living room.

“awe, look!” that electric dipshit coos, picking up a picture frame. “It’s a picture of all of us at graduation!”

“and look at this one! this one is of him and–” kirishima’s expression shifts into genuine surprise. “this is the head of our legal department…and you’re kissing her! on the mouth!”

of course it’s then that the bedroom door opens, three heads turning to see you walking out, toweling off your wet hair. “katsuki?”

the pro, still crumpled in the doorway, looks away as his friends do a double take, then fix him with wide eyed stares.

“katsuki!” you gasp, rushing to his side. “oh my god, are you okay?”

“‘m fine,” he coughs, letting you help him to his feet. “aside from the two ass clowns in our living room.”

“hey!”

“oh, ignore him,” you simper, pressing yourself into his side. “he loves you guys, but right now…i think he’d prefer to love you from afar. at least until our housewarming party!”

“housewarming party?!”

"i made coffee for you, love."

strong arms wrapped around you from behind as your husband's voice whispered in your ear. you smiled and leaned back into him.

"i see that, thank you."

he kissed your neck, hands moving to your hips.

"shouta," you laughed, "we need to get ready."

"mhm," he agreed, spinning you around and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. the two of you broke apart, laughing lightly. his hands came up and rested on your cheeks.

"shouta," you whispered against his lips, "we're gonna be late."

"yep," he kissed you again, the taste of coffee lingering on his tongue.

"we gotta get ready, babe."

"but why?" he honest to god pouted, forehead knocking against yours, then resting.

"because we both have jobs."

"we should quit."

"as if, you love those kids like family."

he sighed, knowing he couldn't argue with you.

"one more kiss?"

you rolled your eyes and succumbed to the knowledge that you were probably going to have to work without lunch.

"one more kiss."

this work is the property of @/k0dzu1. do not copy, repost, or translate.

warnings : fem reader, slight smut (mdni), fingering (f receiving), teasing, cursing, making out, mentions of multiple orgasms (f receiving), established relationship

word count : 0.8k

Not unlike most in Kenma’s life, the way he kisses is lazy.

Soft, pliant lips part as they press against yours, tongue dragging across your lower lip, letting out a soft, content sigh at the taste of the remnants of lip balm. With spit slicking his lips, Kenma parts your mouth with his tongue, pressing down on your own, head rushing with exhilaration at the way you suddenly tighten your fingers near his waist. The fabric of his hoodie bunches underneath your hands, and with a grin pressed against your mouth–almost smug in nature–Kenma leans into your touch. 

“You good?” he lets out a chuckle from under his breath, the warmth of it mingling with your own. 

Kenma pulls away to get a better look at you, and a thick spread of something warm and sweet fills his chest when you let out a soft sound of protest. You’re no more than a hairs-width away; Kenma’s lashes brush against your temple as his eyes flutter shut, swollen lips parting when you gently rock your hips down onto the two fingers he has buried between your thighs. 

“Aha,” he lets out a breathless laugh when you clench around his fingers, pressing them knuckle-deep and wiggling them until they brush against the spot that has your body nearly folding around his, head dropping to rest against his shoulder. 

“‘M perfect,” you mumble against the crook of his neck–nearly a groan. Your lips move against his neck, and despite the lewd way his fingers pump in and out of your cunt, Kenma can’t help the blush that warms his cheeks at the almost-innocent feeling of your mouth grazing his pulse point. 

Kenma’s eyes open to get a better look at you, and he licks his lips at the sight of your thighs spreading further apart on his lap, rocking your hips down to feel the rough pads of his fingertips pressing inside you.

His throat goes dry, and Kenma’s cock throbs against your thigh when you let out an airy moan of his name.

“Mhm. Perfect for me and my dick,” he says when he’s finally able to compose a sentence, jaw slackening with awe at the feel of your slick dripping down his wrist. 

Curling his fingers towards him, Kenma carefully watches your reactions; his sweatpants are ruined from where pre-cum beads and dribbles from the slit of his cock, and the wet spot only grows as he lets you fuck yourself on his fingers, grinding and pulling them deeper inside your cunt. He begins to breathe a bit faster, harder. It’s all Kenma can do to watch you make a mess on his lap, moaning his name so prettily in his ear for him.

“So let me ride it. Wanna feel you,” you retort, pulling away from his neck to face him. 

Your request only further steals the air from Kenma’s lungs, and at the sight of your eyes heavy with need, it’s almost enough to make him fold.

Instead, Kenma merely smirks, enjoying the way your pussy tightens around his fingers when he drags them down your cunt. “What? This isn’t enough?” he teases you, voice dripping with something akin to arrogance. As if to punctuate his words, Kenma presses them deep inside you, tongue coming to press against his bottom lip when you immediately keen in pleasure. 

“Y-you know what I mean, Kenma. Let me fuck you,” you attempt to convince him, and the increasingly needy tone in your voice does nothing to aid Kenma’s restraint. He wanted to enjoy this for a bit longer, but if you keep looking at him like that, grinding on his fingers, he knows that resolve to tease you will crack. 

Gathering himself, Kenma leans back against the couch, spreading his legs a bit wider and offering you a lazy, lopsided grin. “Hm,” he pretends to think on it, smirk only broadening as he continues slowly fucking his fingers into you. “Nah. Wanna watch you ride my fingers a bit longer.”

“Fuck you,” you immediately shoot him a glare, but the complete lack of bitterness in your tone, paired with how your slick steadily coats his fingers, only has his dick stiffening even more.

Kenma’s eyes dart to your lips, and a rough sound falls from his mouth when he imagines the sweet sounds you’ll let out when he fucks you. A strand of hair falls in his eye, but neither of you bothers to move it aside, too enamored with the moment.

“That’s not very nice to say to the person who’s about to make you cum. You should just let me kiss you instead. Wanna feel that pretty mouth of yours,” Kenma says. He leans closer, a hand moving to the nape of your neck to pull you to him. You oblige easily, lips parting to press your mouth to his in an eager, messy kiss. 

Kenma’s mind immediately melts; a rush thrills through his body, pressing rapidly against his heart until it swells with affection for you. He squeezes you closer, succumbing to the wet, open-mouthed kiss, moving his lips lazily against yours.

And, while you’ll surely complain about him going so slow, Kenma is sure you won’t be complaining about the multiple times he makes you cum, no matter how lethargic his actions. 

He likes to drag out your pleasure, after all. 

haikyuu mlist.