#and sticks a fancy stick in your face and all of a sudden you are remembering that everyone you know is dead

[the-faultofdaedalus]

there is nothing i long for more in outer wilds than to be able to take one of the stranger's vision stick things and bring it to solanum so i can tell her what happened to the nomai, so i can tell her that the ash twin project worked, so i can tell her that it wasn't all for nothing, so i can tell her she was right not to be scared of the eye. i wish i could tell her that i also consider her a friend, that i love her, that i love her, that i'm going to fix this

#I WANT TO TELL HERRRRR #i want to tell her what happened when she left her people and her family #i want to tell her that the other nomai tribes never stopped looking #i want to tell her that it's not the eye's fault it stopped calling them #i want to tell her i love her #i want to tell her i followed her here from millions of years away #i want her to tell her that i'm sorry. i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry #but god imagine solanum's POV for this #you are vibin on the quantum moon and then some weird 4-eyed little freak shows up #and sticks a fancy stick in your face and all of a sudden you are remembering that everyone you know is dead #o7

[apollyonsdarksecrets]

A part of you, a part of me

Summary: Joel’s been down this road before, he’s seen all the signs, and he knows before you ever do that you’re pregnant.

Warning: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut, unplanned pregnancy, crying, fluff, pre-outbreak Joel. Established relationship, cream pie, pet names, cussing, pregnancy tests, just a bunch of happiness because that’s all Joel deserves in this world. 💜😭

A/n: I can’t say Joel has a breeding kink… but I can certainly say he makes me have one 😌

Joel Miller Master List

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Joel remembers everything from Sarah’s mother’s pregnancy, all of the signs that lead up to them finding out. And surely enough it was beginning to show in you.

It started one autumn morning, when he woke up to find you nestled in beside him, face pressed into his chest, snoring slightly, hair in disarray. You were the picture perfect definition of someone getting the best sleep of their lives.

The only reason it concerned his was the fact that you never slept in past 6. You were always up before Joel, making breakfast for him and Sarah and more often than not Tommy, taking Sarah to school with a sweet kiss to his lips before you’d dash off to work yourself.

Brushing the hair from your face he whispers softly, “Honey?” You grumble something unintelligible, pulling a smile from him. “Honey it’s 7:20.” You’re slow to open your eyes, hazy and still leaded with sleep as they focus in on him, his dark hair sticking up around his head like every morning, “You okay?”

“M’ just really tired… think you can take over this morning?” You whisper, reaching up and cupping his cheek, the stubble of his beard scratching your palm.

“Of course baby. You need me to call work? Want a day to relax?” You smile at his concern, knowing he’s already gearing himself to go the extra mile to make sure you start to feel better.

“That would be really nice.” He kisses your lips gently before leaving you to sleep in, and you end up sleeping most of the day away.

Joel’s quick to notice that you start to get more tired as the days progress, usually a morning person you were now sluggish and downing two cups of coffee just to stay alert, you’d stay in bed a little longer and go to sleep a little earlier.

Initially he’d chalked it up to being stress at work, you were an associate for a designer company, making all the hotels and houses around here ‘fancy looking’ as he would say. It was a big, busy job that you were very passionate about.

But then came the emotions and cravings, not anger or frustration like Sarah’s mother, but you cried, and you cried a lot. The alarm bells should of gone off when he found you one night in the kitchen after everyone had gone to bed. You were sitting at the counter crying, no you had been sobbing, and Joel feared the worst until you blubbered out that you just really, really wanted ice cream.

Him finding you like that only embarrassed you more, adding to the water works as he dragged you in for a tight hug, smoothing his hands up and down your back.

“I-I think I’m just PMSing.” You hiccuped bashfully, hiding your face against his chest as he kissed the brown of your head.

“It’s okay, we will go get some tomorrow, it’s Saturday and we can take Sarah with us to the little parlor in town.”

Two months in to your sudden changes is when it all came to a head, he wasn’t being nosy, had actually just walked into the house about to announce himself when he heard you on the phone.

“I don’t know Jenny, works been stressful, I definitely haven’t been eating right and I just don’t have the energy to go to the gym like I use to. Hell even my periods plying hide and seek with me. I thought about making a doctors appointment-“

Whatever else you say is lost on him as he stops dead in his tracks, his muscles tensing and mouth drying up. He makes his legs move, taking him around the corner and into the kitchen. You don’t notice him at first, giving him the perfect opportunity to just look at you, to really look at you.

At the sake of sounding corny… You really were glowing, face a little rounder, body filling out in different ways, curves softening under your clothing. The changes were slight, not so prominent yet, but he can see it.

His heart speeds up, emotions rolling through him like the ocean in a storm.

You are pregnant.

Walking closer he catches your attention, making you crack a wide smile that has his knees going weak. “Hey, Jenny, Joel just got home I’ll talk to you later… love you too, bye.”

Setting the phone down, you go to stand but Joel’s in front of you, dropping to his knees and capturing your hips in his hands. You let out a startled yelp, hands coming to rest on his arms squeezing gently.

“As adventurous as I am, I don’t think the kitchen is t-.”

“We need to talk.” His serious expression extinguishes your excitement, panic flashing through you instantly.

“What’s wrong? Is Sarah okay? Tommy?”

“Yes, they are fine, we need… we need to talk about you.”

“Me? Honey I’m fine, what do you mean?” Nervous laughter bubbles up in your throat, mind racing in every possible direction this conversation could go.

Joel rolls his lips together, glancing to your stomach then back to you. Your face is contorted with confusion, your grip tightening on his arms. “When… how long has it been since you’re last period?”

You scoff at his question, eyes rolling slightly as your posture relaxes. “Baby I don’t know, I haven’t been tracking it like I usually do. Between Carol and Tray calling out of work I’ve been given both of their projects to present, that’s two on top of my other two. And -.” You roll your eyes, temper rising, “and get this, two of them are so within three hours of each other, now how in the world am I supposed to-.”

“Darlin’.” Joel cuts off your rambling, one large hand shifting to your softer stomach, rubbing slow circles as he watches the confusion melt into realization and then back to panic as your eyes drop to your stomach.

“N-no… no Joel we.. we always use condoms.”

He gives you a look that says you’re lying through your teeth, which you are, there has been a few times over the past couple of months, after you’ve both had one to many drinks where you’ll wake up in the morning, slick between your thighs.

Joel watches your face pale, body shaking in his grasp and he pulls you a little closer with the hand on your hip. “How long?”

Swallowing you finally look at his face, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, expression pinched with… worry? Upset? Is he scared? Your own fears rise eyes flicking between his and something in his chest cracks open at the look on your face.

“M-maybe two months… I-I really don’t k-know.”

He nods, rubbing slow circles into your stomach, already knowing but needing to be sure. “Let’s take a trip to the store okay?”

*~*~*~*~*~*

You’re both quiet sitting on Joel’s bed, two positive pregnancy tests laying in between you. You are fighting back tears, stiff and trembling, waiting on Joel to blow up.

You’ve only been dating for three years, kids have never been a topic of discussion seeing as Joel already has Sarah, he’s been through the baby phase. Then there’s the fact you don’t officially live with him, though you’re apartment in the city is only visited when you need to do laundry. Almost every moment of the day is in this house or at work… does that me this will change everything?

“I’m… I’m so sorry Joel.” You finally whisper, fat tears rolling down your cheeks.”

“What?”

“I should… I should of been on the pill, I should of been more careful… I didn’t mean to do this to you.” The absolute devastation in your voice makes Joel move, kneeling down in front of you like earlier, this time his hands are on your waist, thumbs stroking the sides of your changing belly.

“Don’t you dare talk like that, you didn’t do anything to me. Yes I’m scared, I’m scared shitless but fuck baby… I’m over the moon.” Your watery eyes dart to his and he’s smiling, joy shining in his soft drown eyes making something inside your body relax for the first time in hours. “Now… I know-I know we didn’t plan this but I mean… This is us. This right here.” He leans forward, pressing his lips to your stomach making you giggle breathlessly. “This is a part of me and a part of you that… God it’s so wonderful and you’re so wonderful and I love you so much, I love this so much.”

Tears brim his own beautiful eyes, hands gently squeezing your sides, curling into the fabric of your tank top as he searches your tear streaked face. “You my sweet girl, are going to be the most amazing mother.”

Whatever reservations, whatever doubts you were holding onto flood from your body with the shaky breath that escapes through your trembling lips, and without thought you lean down, capturing his lips in a kiss, one that pours every little emotion you don’t know how to communicate into him.

Joel stands, lips never leaving yours and pushes you back gently onto the bed, fitting himself between your legs as the kiss slowly turns hungry. You’re burning from the inside out, tears still escaping down your cheeks, as Joel settles himself over you, mindful of his weight.

“Shhh don’t cry honey.” He breaths, lips moving down to your jaw, working the skin with sloppy kisses.

You tilt your head back, body thrumming with sudden need. “H-happy tears.” You manage to squeak out, hands tugging at his t-shirt wantonly. “Joel… I want you, please I want you.” You beg, arching your back pressing your hips up against him searching for some form of friction.

“I know baby, just relax. I’ll take good care of you.” He mumbles against your throat, a hand finding your pajama shorts and tugging them down, exposing your bare cunt to the cold air. He sits back, pulling your shorts over your ankles with a low growl. “Fuck baby, you’re so wet for me already.” Joel swipes a fingers through your folds, gathering your juices and circling your clit.

You whine into the air, closing your eyes as another pulse of arousal shoots through you, heart hammering against your ribs. “Please… Don’t tease me please.” The tears now streaming down your cheeks are out of desperation, your hands finding his belt and yanking at the worn leather.

Joel only chuckles with a shake his head, helping you unbuckle the belt and open his jeans, shoving them down far enough for his cock to spring free. You groan at the sight, letting your legs fall further open as you grab a fist full of his t-shirt pulling him to you.

“Need my cock that bad baby? Can’t wait any longer?” He groans as he runs the tip along your soaked folds, bumping your swollen bud making your hips jerk.

You shake your head, watching his cock as he slowly presses the head into your opening, your lip caught between your teeth.

“Hey,” Joel’s fingers find your chin, lifting your gaze to his and he feels like he might blow his load then and there. Your eyes simmer with pure lust… pure list and want and love and your looking up at his through your long lashes making his breath hitch in his chest. “Eyes on me when I fuck you, wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum.”

“Y-Yes sir.” You nod weakly, head resting back on the pillows as you hook your ankles around his waist.

“What a good girl you are.” He slowly thrusts in, savoring how you stretch around him, always so tight and warm. A low moan falls from your lips, legs tightening around him encouraging him to go deeper and he obeys, sinking into you completely.

You both stay still for a moment, breaths labored and hearts pounding. Joel keeps himself propped up with one hand, the other pushing your shirt up just under your breasts, finding its place on your small bump.

Joel pulls out half way before sinking back in, moaning and closing his eyes briefly as he finds his pace, deep and slow making your eyes roll and body languid below his. You can feel each bump and ridge of his cock, rubbing your walls in just the right way that your orgasm builds quickly. “So pretty, always wanted to put a baby in you, never thought I’d get the chance.” Your pussy squeezes around him your soft whimpers follow. “Yeah? You like that?”

“F-fuck… yes Joel… yes.” Your grip tightens on his shirt, anchoring yourself to him as pressure begins to build in the base of your spine.

His voice drops, the timbre in his drawl making your blood thick in your veins, head heavy and empty. “Just gonna have ta’ keep you pregnant then, barefoot in ma kitchen, swollen with all my babies.” Joel’s thrusts speed up, his mental image of you driving him closer and closer to his own orgasm. “I need to feel you cum for me, cum on my cock baby.”

His fingers find your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles and you nearly scream, the pressure radiating out into your abdomen pulling your muscles tight. You nod feverishly, panting out some form of yess and please, teetering on the cusp of oblivion, just for him.

Joel groans, eyebrows drawn together and thrusts turning sloppy, he can feel your pussy spasming around him and he knows he won’t last much longer.

“Let it go baby, let it happen, cum on my dick like the good girl you are.”

And it snaps, the tension flooding from your body as your orgasm erupts, a silent scream forming your lips into that perfect O shape that Joel loves so much, and as your cunt clenches down on him he stills, rope after rope of thick cum painting your quivering walls. He moans loud and deep, a shudder raking through his body as his eyes close and he basks in the euphoria washing through him.

Your legs shake around his twitching hips, whining pitchy and out of breath and Joel finally moves his fingers from your sensitive clit, splaying his hand across your stomach.

“You’re gonna be such a good mama.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

You both wait until after your first doctors appointment to tell Sarah and Tommy, over a lovely family meal.

“This is so good.” Sarah mumbles out around a mouth full of homemade lasagna making everyone laugh.

“Thank you, it’s my mamas recipe.” Joel’s eyes lock with yours, a smile tugging at his lips as your heart pounds in your ears, ready to spill the beans like you’ve planted. “I hope one day I can pass it on to you and your little sibling.”

It takes Sarah a minute, but Tommy stops eating immediately, his eyes growing wide, head wiping up to look between you and his brother, the smile that spreads across his face makes your heart warm.

“Ooo I’d love to try and cook it with you some time, I like learning new…” The realization dawns on her then, her jaw dropping open, shock taking over her expression and Joel can’t help but laugh.

“Really?” Sarah turns to you, and you’re already nodding, tears filling your eyes at the same time hers do. “I’m going to be a sister?”

“Oh honey…” She’s out of her chair and crashing into your open arms in an instant, crying against your chest as you bury your face into her curls, holding on tightly.

Tommy embraces Joel, patting his back roughly as Joel beams, watching his two girls over Tommy’s shoulder. This moment, this instances is all he’s ever dreamt of.

#joel miller x female reader #joel miller #smut #the last of us #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #apollyonsdarksecrets #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #the last of us smut #Joel Miller breeding #pregnancy #happy

[driaswrld]

i think about higuruma proposing on a rainy day alot.

in all honesty, he really didn't think it would rain after he planned such a nice dinner, made the two of you dress up, spent a shit ton on fancy dishes that hardly interested him, traded his messy suit for a neat one, meticulously scented his pulse points with your favorite perfume and ordered champagne (he hates champagne, but it's the way your eyes follow the bubbles that persuaded him)

and next thing you know, after nearly two hours worth of conversation, a sudden downpour in the city, one hurried cab drive home, your heels in your hands and his arms holding his suitjacket over your head to shield you from the rain. . .

he's on one knee, drenched from head to toe on the front porch, proposing to you after you two had to literally run home in the rain, his suit jacket still draped over your shoulders, his dark hair damp and dress shirt sticking to his skin, your face cold from rainwater.

higuruma apologizes, because he always wants to give you the world, and damp clothes and a proposal on a gloomy day is hardly what you deserve in his eyes — now that he thinks about it, he wonders why you're even hearing him out, why you stayed in the first place, because this hardly does you justice.

but when he's just kneeling there, velvet box open, with that crooked smile and brows scrunched, waiting with bated breath for your answer, dark eyes peering up at you, you think nothing could be more hiromi, than a proposal like this.

and then you say yes, and the abrupt force of his kiss has you two stumbling backwards off the porch and back into the rain.

you two end up catching a cold the next day.

#📰 — archive #it rained at like 2am yesterday #i wrote this between journalling #hiromi is the kind of guy who defines #''when you know you know'' #and at some point he already knew you were it for him #it doesn't matter if it's raining or the world is ending #he's yours eternally and he's open enough to admit that #anyways #jjk higuruma #higuruma x reader #higuruma smut #higuruma hiromi #hiromi higuruma #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[coryosmin]

omgomgomg sitting on thg character's faces hcs 🤭🤭 PLSS ( i beg you to write this with peeta mellark and then whoever else suits your fancy 🙏🙏🙏 )

mdni | nsfw content!

usually i start with writing coryo but i will start with Peeta on this fine day (pls it’s 2 am)

peeta - i think he would suggest it. he just wants you to feel good. so you guys would be in your bedroom. he’d be laying flat on the bed, without pillows. and you’d hover over him, naked. you’d be facing the headboard while your cunt was hovered over his face. “come on, baby. you can sit.” he’d murmur softly, his blue eyes looking up at you. it would definitely take some coaxing but you would eventually sit on his face and he would immediately wrap his arms around your thighs to hold you in place. he would eat you out with precision and definitely not sloppily. he’d want you to grip his hair as he used his tongue on your cunt, licking and sucking on your clit. and you would definitely be cumming within ten minutes.

coriolanus - THIS MAN WAS SCULPTED WITH A FACE TO BE SAT ON OKAY. it would take no convincing to let you sit on his face. in fact, neither of you would suggest it. you guys would be on his bed, naked, about to have sex when he just grips your hips and pulls you to his face. you barely have time to react when he’s literally smothering his face into your cunt. HE IS SO SLOPPY WITH IT TOO. he will moan as he eats you out, would stick his tongue in and out of your hole, suck your clit, rub your clit on his nose. he will literally get so pussy drunk. he loves eating you out because it gives him the gratification that only he can make you feel so good. he loves the feeling of your wet lips on his face and the clenching of your thighs when you cum. it makes his mind so hazy and euphoric.

sejanus - this boy right here would ask you in the most adorable way. you guys would honestly probably just be studying in his bedroom or something and he would look at you with such loving eyes. like he would look as though he was thinking about how much he truly loved you when all of a sudden he just goes “can you sit on my face?” in such a soft and loving tone. and who are you to say no? so fast forward to like five minutes later, the two of you stripped from your clothes and he’s underneath you. you’re facing the rest of his body, your cunt on his face. and he guides your hips to ride his face. to use him for your own pleasure as he uses his tongue to please you. and while he does that, you’re jerking him off too.

finnick - for him, i don’t think he’s the type to let you sit on his face often. don’t get me wrong he will absolutely devour your cunt. but he usually likes to do it kneeling in front of you. so you would have to ask him if you could sit on his face. and he can’t deny his beautiful princess now can he? finnick would simply just obey as you’re both on the couch. he would lay down completely as he waited for you to sit on his face. and when you do, he is completely and utterly eating you out. you have to refrain from pulling finnick’s hair as he’s just gripping your thighs so hard against him as he literally makes out with your cunt so aggressively. you’re literally cumming in seconds and it’s fabulous.

#the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #peeta mellark #smut #sejanus plinth #finnick odair #tbsoas #thg #coriolanus snow x reader #finnick odair x reader #sejanus plinth x reader #peeta mellark x reader #coriolanus snow smut

[lemonlover1110]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝟑𝟖𝟏

Toji Fushiguro

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[Chapter 16] First Date

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji arranges a babysitter– Someone he has to pay to watch Megumi. He can’t rely on you to babysit because after all, he’s going on a date with you. He dresses his best, getting approval from his son to wear a crimson button down shirt and black slacks. He almost wears a tie, but it’s definitely too much considering your date isn’t anything fancy. 

Megumi also begins to get ready, and it makes Toji ask, “What are you doing, stinky?”

“Getting ready to go out.” He answers, which makes Toji chuckle. Megumi hasn’t picked up the memo that he’s not joining. Toji clears his throat as he thinks of a way to let Megumi down gently; Megumi has helped out a lot today, in the little boy’s mind he thinks he deserves to join you. And as much as Toji loves his son, he couldn’t disagree more.

“You’ll be staying here, buddy.” Toji ends up saying, not finding another way to let his son down. Megumi furrows his brows, sticking out his bottom lip. Megumi looks at his father disappointedly. Toji says something that will hopefully convince Megumi that staying home isn’t so bad. “You’ll get to eat whatever you want and stay up late.”

“I wanna go.” Megumi still responds, making Toji sigh. He knows the water works are coming in, even though Megumi swore he’d be less of a crybaby at four years of age. Toji tries to think of something to say… Then, it sparks on him.

“You told me you wanted the neighbor to be your mommy… If this goes well, she might become your mommy.” Toji says, and he feels guilty saying that, but that’s the only way he can stop Megumi from crying. And it works. Megumi feels less sad, and more intrigued now. Toji sighs again before he tells his son, “In order for it to go well, you have to stay here and behave. Can you do that, stinky?”

“Yeah…” Megumi nods in response. 

The babysitter gets there right as scheduled, and Toji says goodbye to his son before he grabs the bouquet of flowers he bought, and steps out of the apartment. He only has to take a couple of steps before he’s in front of apartment 382. Toji takes a deep breath, as a sudden wave of nerves takes over him… Why is he suddenly so nervous? He has no reason to be, he’s known you for eight months and you’ve had sex twice. This shouldn’t be anything nerve wracking, but his palms are getting sweaty.

He finally knocks, and it feels like an eternity for you to answer the door. Toji begins to overthink, and while he isn’t exactly the person that begins to overthink, he suddenly wonders if maybe– God, you have such a strong effect on him. You finally open the door, and you immediately feel underdressed.

“Should I go change real quick?” You ask him, and he shakes his head in response. He hands you the bouquet of flowers, and the brightest smile comes to your lips. You kiss his cheek and put the flowers on the counter of the kitchen. “Thank you, they’re lovely.”

“Not as lovely as you.” He tells you, and you feel your face warm up. Is this the same man that lives next door? He sounds too sweet. You grab your purse before exiting the apartment, and you two make your way to his car. He opens the door for you, and you get in.

You wonder where he’s taking you and what you’re doing tonight. Toji is so well dressed that you wonder if you made the right decision picking the outfit that you’re currently wearing. But he didn’t tell you to change so maybe you’ll be fine– Hopefully you’re fine. He gets in the driver’s seat and you ask, “So where are we going?”

“I’m taking you to my favorite restaurant… And then…” He didn’t think all of it through. He tried to think of a fun date idea, but nothing popped up. He just thought about taking you out to eat some of his favorite food. Maybe you’ll be more creative on your second date; if you have a second date.

You chuckle. “That sounds great.”

“I know it’s nothing too exciting but–” He feels the need to justify himself.

“I love it. That’s what I was expecting.” You cut him off. He turns on the car and begins to drive. It’s a somewhat long drive, which is why he saved going there for this very special occasion.

“Am I too predictable?” He doesn’t know why but suddenly he’s self-conscious about what someone else thinks. He fucking hates the feeling, but he loves the fact that it’s because of you. 

“No. It’s just cold out, there’s not much we can do… Unless you want to try to ice skate but I’m not in the mood of falling on my butt tonight.” You laugh and it’s intoxicating, causing him to let out a chuckle as well. Your eyes fall on him as he focuses on the road. “We can save the fun stuff for later dates– Especially over the summer. Maybe we can bring Megumi as well.”

“Nope.” It doesn’t take a single second for him to shut down the idea. And now he bites his tongue because he seems like a bad father. He doesn’t want to seem like one– He loves the fact that you’re trying to include Megumi in your little adventures, and he loves that you clearly adore Megumi. But he doesn’t want Megumi to be included in your dates. “I love him, don’t get me wrong. He’s my son. But dates are for the two of us, we don’t have to bring him with us. He’ll just take all the attention for himself.”

“Got it.” You end up laughing. You look out the window to try and figure out where you’re going, you wonder if it’s somewhere nearby. What food does Toji like… You’ve eaten with him more than a handful of times, but he eats whatever he has in front of him happily. You’ve never heard a single complaint from him. 

“So…” He clears his throat, and your eyes fall on him. You watch his grip on the steering wheel tighten and you wonder what goes through his head. “About my second job…”

“It’s fine… You didn’t have to tell me, although I would’ve appreciated it.” You share. “You have to do what you have to do for your son.”

“I should’ve told you, we had something going on and I hid that from you. I know that could’ve changed your mind about our relationship.” He replies. He takes a deep breath before he mutters a phrase he never leaves his lips, “And I’m… Sorry.”

“It’s okay now…” You sheepishly smile even though he can’t see it. “How are you holding up with it now? Is everything okay?”

“I’ll be quitting soon. I found this cute little house that’s perfect for Megumi and I, and I’ve saved up a lot.” He tells you, and you feel excited. Excited for him and the fact that he’ll be quitting his second job soon. Also excited that you get to have him all to yourself in most senses. But slightly saddened that he’ll stop being your neighbor soon. You have no idea how long soon is though, so you won’t dwell on it. “It’s thirty minutes away though.”

“Oh…” You sound disappointed, and he’s disappointed too so he can’t blame you. But he’ll find a way to work things out, you do have a bit of time. One hand goes to your thigh, and he squeezes it. You try to joke around, “Don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily.”

“Oh, I know I’m not. Hopefully not.”

You breathe in relief when you realize that you’re dressed appropriately for the restaurant Toji takes you to. It makes you smile more when you realize that he dressed up just to impress you. You order what he recommends, and you chat while you wait for the food. 

“How did Megumi take staying home?” You ask him, because maybe you overheard a bit of their conversation. The walls are thin, especially when your ear is glued to it and your apartment is extremely quiet. So maybe you were trying to eavesdrop.

“I had to argue with him a bit, but he’s fine. He’s probably having fun with the babysitter.” Toji answers. He then jokes, “You better hope he doesn’t replace you as his favorite babysitter.”

“You really think I’m that easily replaceable? I see how it is, Toji.” You act offended, and Toji apologizes since he doesn’t pick up that you’re joking around with him. It makes you burst out laughing, “I’m only joking, Toji. Megumi won’t replace me that easily, we both know that.”

“Yeah… He adores you. Sometimes I think he likes you more than me because he doesn’t shut up about you.” Toji confesses, and you love hearing that. You love spending time with Megumi, and you’re glad to know he loves spending time with you too.

“He also doesn’t shut up about you.” You tell him, and a weak smile comes to his lips, which he hides fast. It’s nice to know that his son likes him even though it doesn’t seem like it. At least not in his eyes. “He really makes me want to have a child.”

“Um…” Toji gaze goes elsewhere in shame. He bites on the inside of his bottom lip, wondering if this is conversation for a first date. He scratches the back of his neck and then decides to speak up, “I don’t want to have more kids.”

“Oh…” You’re a bit taken back by it, but you can understand. Toji is a single father and has been one for two years, you assume he’s struggled a lot. He doesn’t want to repeat that process again because while you don’t plan on dying, the universe might have different plans for you. You awkwardly laugh, “I don’t even think I can have kids so we’ll be okay on that aspect.”

“This isn’t first date material, is it?” He asks, and you laugh before shaking your head. You’ve known each other for some time though, so this isn’t as awkward as it should be. Toji takes a deep breath before speaking up, “But my answer isn’t a deal breaker. I can change my mind in the future.”

“I’m not counting on you changing your mind.” You respond. It’s fine either way, if you get with Toji you’ll have Megumi, and he’s the only kid you need. Would you love to have a baby? Yes. But do you really need to have a baby in order to be happy? No. “Anyway, let’s talk about something else.”

“I really hope you like the food here. I love it.” He says. “I can’t come here with Megumi because the little shit doesn’t like it.” 

“I do trust Megumi’s judgment so…” You begin, and he quickly picks up that you’re joking because Megumi is such a picky eater. He hopes that the kid will grow out of it, but it’s so hard for Toji to get Megumi something to eat. Something healthy. 

“You better like it, I have to come here with someone.” He tells you. You reach over the table, grabbing his hands into yours. He smiles at you and you tell him,

“I’ll gladly come here with you, even if the food sucks.” And he could just lean over and kiss you, but your food gets to the table. He’s never been so fucking mad about the fact that there’s food in front of him. Toji likes you so much that he thinks he prefers you over food. He swears your eyes shine when you look at the food, and you lick your lips. “It looks good so far. But I trust my picky baby’s judgment.”

“You’re so right. He’s the food critic we’re missing.” Toji responds, and he watches you take the first bite of your food, and a smile comes to your face. It’s fair to say that he’ll bring you here again in the future. He might drag Megumi to join as well. “Do you like it?”

You hum in response, stuffing your face. He honestly likes the sight in front of him better than eating. He does begin to eat until a question pops in his mind, and he can’t help but ask, “Who sent you the pictures of me and Momoko?”

“I wish I knew, it was an unknown number.” You answer when you swallow, and you don’t say much more until you stuff your mouth full again. Until you get an idea of who it is, and although it seems absurd, you say his name, “Probably Gojo.”

“Who?” Toji asks, wondering who you’re talking about. He tries to recall who it is, but it’s someone that holds little importance to the man. You give him a vague description, and he immediately remembers. “What’s up with him? Don’t you hate him or something like that?”

“He was overall a bad friend to my husband… A little after my husband was diagnosed, he lost his job. He went to Gojo who was his friend for help but Gojo shut him down quickly. Gojo runs a couple of family businesses so he has money but he refused to lend my husband money– Even though I was willing to pay it back, and he also refused to give Kento a job.” You bite down on your lip before proceeding to take a sip of your beverage. It’s hard to talk about, it’s the first time you actually tell someone about it. “He didn’t have to lend money but it would’ve helped Kento get better treatment, and perhaps the fate of things would’ve turned out differently.”

“Woah… I can beat him up for you next time I see him.” You laugh. That’s a nice response. 

“Weirdly enough, he asked me out not too long ago.” The piece of information makes Toji’s blood boil. Gojo is not only a bad friend but simply a terrible human being. You watch Toji clench his jaw, and you’re quick to say, “This food is so good, Toji. You have to bring me here again.”

“I will.” He softens up again at the sound of your sweet voice. “As many times as you’d like.”

“I really like your bracelet.” Toji points out as he holds your hand, walking back to his car. Your eyes glance at the charm bracelet he gave you, and you smile sweetly at him.

“Thank you for giving it to me, Toji.” You respond. You approach his car, and you feel saddened that the night comes to an end. You’ve enjoyed your night with him, and you wish it would last longer. But he has to get back home to his son, and the night must end eventually. The faster it ends, the faster the next date comes.

He opens the door for you, and you stop him before he can walk any further. You smile at him and you bring your lips up to his, gently pecking him. He’s caught off guard, he doesn’t know why; he was expecting to kiss you tonight. 

He freezes for a second before he kisses your lips again, and when he pulls away he kisses your cheek. He cups your face, looking into your eyes. He feels butterflies in his stomach, and it feels so fucking ridiculous for him to think.

“Thank you for joining me tonight.” He says. It feels like he’s swept you up from your feet in an instance. Your feelings for Toji were fading, and now they’re back and stronger than before. He’s not making your case easier.

“Thank you for inviting me, Toji. I had a lovely night.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #anime #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #daddy toji #toji zenin #jujutsu toji #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x y/n #fushiguro toji #toji x you #dilf toji #toji fic

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 20

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: weekends aren't for rest, they're for being sick and anxious so Monday will be a treat.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As you enter, you try your best not to make too much noise. You set the bags down lightly and ease the inner door shut. You can hear your dad and the soft sound of puzzle pieces meeting the table.

“Ya know, thirty years almost, but I can see her just like yesterday,” he says.

Your heart clutches. You never heard him talk about your mom. When you were a kid and didn’t know better, he just ignored all your questions about her. When you got older, you stopped asking. You figured it’s easier for both of you to pretend she never was.

“I’m sorry, hon,” Leslie comforts, “you know, in my line of work, I’ve seen it over and over. It’s a wound you can’t heal.”

“Oh yeah,” he grits, “yeah, I’d say…”

You swallow and lean back on your foot, crinkling the bags behind you. You cringe as you hear sudden movement. You turn and work to slip off the white loafers. You pretend like you weren’t listening as Leslie’s shadow looms from the archway.

“You’re home,” she proclaims, “we didn’t think you’d be so early.”

“Me either,” you say as you face her. 

Her lashes flick and her mouth opens, “oh my, you look so good! Weren’t you working today?”

“Uh, did some work,” you lie, “I got a few hours off so I… did some running around.”

“Oh, gosh, come on, you have to show your dad,” she takes you by the wrist and tugs you around, “Charles, look at your girl.”

She presents you with her hands on your shoulders. You can’t even look at your dad as the couch creaks and he grunts at your appearance. He snorts and pushes another piece into the puzzle.

“What am I looking at?” He sneers.

“Charles, don’t be like that. Look at her hair, and this dress,” she touches your hips, “must be a nice job, huh?”

“It’s alright,” you shimmy out of her grasp, “I just… needed something more presentable–”

“Something shorter,” your father scoffs, “so when she’s bending to tidy the floors you can see right up.”

“Charles, that’s gross,” Leslie reprimands.

“Truth can be like that,” he snickers, “think some man’s buying her fancy clothes so she can sweep? We both know how she pays for you.”

“No… it’s not…” you shrug and give up, “I’m gonna put my stuff away and start dinner. If you want, you can head off early too.”

“Oh, I don’t mind sticking around,” Leslie says as she once more sits beside your dad, “let me know if you need any help with dinner. Don’t wanna get anything on that nice little dress.”

You nod and hesitate. You can’t tell what she means by that. For as much as she can call out your father, she often speaks with an edge of her own. Just like the cigarettes, she must assume his insults are your fault.

You leave the room and grab the bags. You carry them up the stairs to your room. You shut the door and sit on the end of the bed. You bend and cradle your head, trying to set it straight after the dizzying day.

👠

The bus provides a momentary break from your hostile world. There is no safe place for you. Home is barely that and work is… confusing. Your only escape is to focus on your tasks and get through them. Get through Mr. Laufeyson’s list then come home and the chores left untouched. 

Your look at the time on your phone and black the screen. You get a glimpse of your reflection off the glass as you do. You didn't do too bad with the makeup. It looks okay. You tried not to use too much as you recalled Eliana's instructions.

You shake off your doubts and airy feeling around your legs. You're not use to the skirt or the pretty fabrics. You feel overdressed and out-of-place, but the latter is so new to you.

Through the gate and along the edge of the drive, you hear your name flutter in the air. You stop short as you see Frigga strolling along the hedges, caressing the petals of a rose. She draws away and strides towards you, an ivory skirt paired with a golden brown blouse and nude heels.

“You do start early, don’t you?” She approaches and takes your hand, “come, let’s have tea.”

“Oh, uh, I…” you let her tug you along the walkway towards the front door, “the carpenter is coming today–”

“Ah yes, Loki mentioned you were working on restoring the gazebo. That’s lovely. We used to have tea there, me and… his wife. She was a laugh.”

“Mm,” you hum. Whoever this woman was, she must’ve been very special. You imagine a beautiful woman with silky hair and long legs like Frigga. She must’ve fit right in.

“I suppose if it was meant to be, it would be. I only hope my son can find happiness again,” she squeezes your hand before she lets you go. 

She opens the door and waves you in ahead of her. You slip out of your flats much easier than your usual lace-up sneakers. She steps out of her heels and sighs.

“That’s his problem, you know? He’s lonely but too proud to admit it,” she sidles around you and leads you down to the kitchen. You follow and watch as she goes to the counter and pours from the waiting teapot. “Though I haven’t seen him today. I suppose he’s sleeping in, it is the weekend.”

You tilt your head but don’t comment. For as long as you’ve worked for him, not very long at all, he’s never slept past your arrival. Well, not so far as you know.

“I do love this skirt,” she comes back around the counter and touches the tweed, “wonderful pairing,” she touches the blouse with the petal shaped cutouts around the high-collar, “you’re learning.”

“Um, yeah, all the clothes are so pretty,” you say.

“Please, have your tea. I’m sure you have time before the carpenter,” she urges.

“Right, er, I’ll just take my bag upstairs first,” you say, “out of the way.”

“Sure,” she accepts with a kind smile, “how about I take this out to the patio, we can enjoy the sun?”

“Alright,” you agree and hike up your bag, “thank you.”

You quickly flit off and head upstairs. You weren’t expecting her to be there. You just hadn’t thought of it. You only dreaded facing your unbendable boss and his persistent stare.

You go into the library and tuck your bag under the writing desk. You double check the schedule in your phone; Ronan, 10. You have an hour before he arrives.

Your mind is already on the gazebo as you scurry back into the hall. As you shut the door gently, you hear a groan. You peer down towards the unusual noise and blink at the slightly ajar door. The main bedroom. Mr. Laufeyson’s. It rises again before a drawn out exhale, his timbre rumbling low.

You quickly set back to your path and flee downstairs. Maybe he’s talking in his sleep, or more likely, stretching out a few kinks. Your curiosity quickly dissipates as you pass through the dining room and out into the patio.

Frigga sits with large pointed sunglasses over her eyes. She tilts her face up to the sunlight as you sit before the other cup of tea. You pull it close and look out at the yard. A streak of green catches your gaze.

You watch the hummingbird hover over fuchsia petals. You stare dreamily, lulled by the peace of the moment as Frigga merely sips and basks. This isn’t so bad. The bird zips between flowers before disappearing behind a tree. In his stead, the skittish chipmunk scrambles along the railing of the patio. You smile at his fluffy tail.

“I’ll be off tomorrow,” Frigga states, “my husband will be expecting me. Oh, but I’ll miss you, darling.”

“Is it very far?” You wonder.

“Four or five hours,” she answers, “not very far but enough. It’s so lovely up where we are. I wish you could see. Perhaps one day. When things are better.”

Before you can answer, there’s a subtle click behind you.

“Morning,” Mr. Laufeyson’s voice is unleashed onto the scene as the patio door swings inward, “mother,” he pauses before he enunciates your name, “beautiful day out.”

Your shoulders stiffen and nearly touch your ears as you sit straight. He pulls out the chair at your other elbow and sets down another teacup with a clink. He sits and smooths back his dark hair, tucking the spiralled ends behind his ears.

“Late morning,” his mother remarks, “any tea left?”

“Some, shall I–”

He puts his hands flat, moving to stand but she shoos him as she’s quicker to rise, “I’ll get it myself. And you darling,” she dips her chin in your direction, “more?”

“Oh, no thanks, I’m still… working on mine. Thank you, Frigga,” you say, mindful of each syllable.

She leaves and the door clicks shut behind her. You stare at the brim of your cup, turning it slowly between your hands as Laufeyson raises his own to his lips. He drinks carefully before putting it down again.

He’s quiet. He shifts and plants an elbow on the table. He turns his attention to the yard and watches. You dare to look up as well, the chipmunk poking his head out from the bush where he hides. He ran away at Mr. Laufeyson’s arrival.

“Cute little fellow,” he remarks as he faces you again. You quickly lower your eyes.

“Uh, yeah…”

“Mmm,” he drones and taps his fingers on the porcelain teacup, “you… that’s a nice shirt.”

“Thanks,” you lift your cup and drain most of it, gulping painfully as you put it back down, “I should go start. Ronan will be here shortly–”

“The carpenter?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson, I have him penned in–” You explain.

“And? He is a carpenter, he knows what he’s doing. I doubt he needs you watching over his shoulder.”

“I know, uh, but I should be there to let him in,” you slide your cup off the table.

“You’re not even done your tea.”

“I’ll finish on my way in–”

“You’re avoiding me,” he accused and you wince.

“What?”

“You’re running away? Why?” He challenges.

“I’m not, I– I have work to do.”

“Work I give you. I’m your boss, you may sit and finish. I’ll permit it.”

You falter and set the cup on the table. You lower yourself back to the seat and fold your hands. You look at your lap and push your shoulders back. He is back to his haughty demands, you find that part of him easier to handle.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Laufeyson, I wasn't running away.”

He scoffs thinly and his nostrils flare as he stares off at the hedges that edge the patio, “I wonder why you can be so quick to flee me when you sat and let my brother feel you up.”

“Huh?” You blanch, stuck by the accusation. “Mr. Laufeyson, I–”

“I know him well and I’m not as blind as my mother. I saw it. You didn’t say a word. You just let him do it,” he clucks, “why?”

Your eyes round and you bat your lashes. You nearly choke, the acidic flavour of the tea drying on your tongue. Was it that bad? You tried not to think about it, to let it affect you, even as the memories flashed in your head, you just tried not to feel anything about it.

“I didn’t… well… he’s your brother, Mr. Laufeyson, I didn’t want to assume… to offend–” you stammer.

“So you let him do what he wants?” He snarlss as he turns his sights on you, a brow arch tritely. “You do not work for him, you work for me.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do,” you sputter, confused by his anger. “I tried to…”

Your voice trails off. No, you didn’t try. You were too afraid too. He’s right, you let Thor keep touching you and you didn’t say anything, you didn’t move, you just froze up.

“It makes me wonder,” he cups his chin, leaning on his elbow, “how far would you let him get, hm?”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you whimper, “I’m sorry–”

“Did you like how he touched you?”

“N-no, Mr. Laufeyson, no, of course not,” you plead.

“You do not want him to touch you?” He prompts.

“No, I… didn’t know how to say—”

“Shhh,” he hushes you, lifting his chin from his hand and pressing his finger to his lips. He pulls his hand away to point at you, “I’ve a better question…” He reaches towards you and you flinch. You quiver as he traces the cutout along the top of your blouse, “how far would you let me go?”

You squirm as he hooks his finger inside the teardrop window in the fabric. His fingertip brushes you as he gives a slight tug, looming closer as he draws you towards him. He smirks as you stare dumbfounded. What is he doing?

“My brother will not touch you again,” his voice is low and rocky, “I will make sure of it.” He tickles you slightly and rescinds his hand, “and you will make sure to remember who you belong to.”

He sits back and hooks his fingers in the handle of the porcelain mug. As if on cue, the french doors open behind you and Frigga trills as she emerges, “oh, just enough tea,” she announces, “I added a dash of honey this time.”

She places the cup by her empty chair but does not sit. She twirls and paces around the patio, going to the flower boxes along the rail. She leans in to examine them.

“Perhaps the carpenter could have a look here, it’s crooked,” she declares. “And I dare say the guest room has a loose floorboard right near the bed.”

“Mm, perhaps, mother,” Laufeyson drawls as he once more raises his cup, his eyes stuck on you, “my house manager will be sure to ask, won’t she?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you wisp out through your constricted throat, barely registering his command. 

You can only hear his previous words echoing, over and over; remember who you belong to. Belong to… No, you only work for him.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #dirty work #au #maid au #avengers #mcu #marvel #thor

[m0nsterqzzz]

★ Happy Endings in the Avengers Compound ★

paring: wanda maximoff x female reader

summary: Wanda is to afraid to make a move with you but what about when you get a date that isn't her?

warnings: literally nothing, it's just pure fluff, jealousy if that needs a warning? really shitty ending cuz i didn't know how to end it lol, a tiny bit ofcussing, terrible writing

a/n: I wrote this while I should've been taking notes in English cuz I was so boreddddd got this idea from a video my friend sent me that was all like, "girl whos obsessed with you does your makeup or something" cuz there's this girl in class who likes to do people's makeup and it was so fucking funny cuz she kept making comments I swear so yeah I just wanted to say that. enjoy :)

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

With a big grin, you harshly push open Wanda's bedroom door and squeal. “I got a date with this really pretty girl at the coffee shop!” Wanda's head snaps up from the book she's ready, and no amount of enthusiasm takes over her face. “A girl? what's her name, last name, date of birth, addresses, place of work, and hometown?” you chuckle, sitting criss cross on her bed and taking her cold hands in your warm ones. “Her name is Vanessa but I call her V, her last name is Tanner, birthday is March 23rd…I don't know what year, I don't know her address, she works at the hospital a few streets away, and I don't know where her hometown is.”

She takes a moment to think before questioning, “So you're going out with a woman you barely know? That doesn't sound safe honey.” You chuckle and nod. “I do know her! We spent like two hours talking in the café!” She looked back to her book and muttered, “Yet you still don't know how old she is.”

You giggle, and a sudden thought appears that makes you smile even brighter. “You should do my makeup! She's taking me out to dinner at a really fancy restaurant at seven.” Wanda frowns. You hate fancy restaurants. The last time Tony tried to take the team out to one, you stared at the menu with a disgusted look on your face the entire time. Wanda ended up taking you to a diner later that night, and the burger you had was much better than the snail food Tony made you try. Why are you going out with this girl if she didn’t even care enough to learn that?

Wanda rolls her eyes a bit. “Why would I do that?” She asks, and you smile. “Because you love me.” you say. and she mumbles something incoherent before looking at your face and sighing in defeat. 

You cheer, launching yourself into her arms and letting your head rest against her chest. The corners of her lips tug up at your happiness, but they go back down when she remembers why. 

“Come on butterfly.” She helps you up off the bed, leading you to her vanity and forcing you to sit on the chair. She grabs a bronzer stick, gently applying it to the middle of your cheeks, kind of on your cheekbone. She grabs a beauty blender and blends that in before grabbing a blush palette. Bucky walks into the room, laying down on Wanda's bed and beginning to talk about some guy he met at the park today. “And he’s such an attention seeker!” He ends with, and it’s silent until Wanda speaks quietly- clearly to you, “Just like that girl you’re seeing.” You scoff, and Bucky bursts out laughing as he looks between the two of you. “What's that supposed to mean? You haven’t even met them yet!” You say, and Wanda shots back, “And I don’t want to.” Bucky holds his stomach in laughter, and both you and Wanda turn to glare at him. The frown on your face is clear as you look at Wanda, and she sighs as she tells you, “I’m sorry okay Butterfly? I just…..I don’t know.” You miss the way Bucky smirks at the witch as he leaves the room quietly. 

“I guess…..I just don’t like that she has you and I don’t.” This brings a small giggle out of you. “Of course you have me Wands! You’re my best friend!” You say, oblivious to the way she grimaces at the word “friend”. She sighs, and doesn’t say anything as you apply some eyeshadow and highlighter to your face. “There you go Butterfly.” You look at yourself in the mirror, grinning at the sight and then at her. You kiss her forehead in thanks. “Thank you Wands!” You say, beginning to run out of her bedroom to go search for an outfit to wear. 

“Anytime darling.” She mumbles, releasing a heavy sigh and holding her head in her hands. Someone gently knocks on the door, and she wipes her tears away and says without turning around, “What’s up Butterfly?” A slightly deep and raspy voice speaks teasingly from her doorway, “I thought that nickname was reserved for your girlfriend?” 

Wanda turns around, facing the redhead woman in the doorway and lets the tears fall. Natasha’s smile falls, and she instantly walks to Wanda and wraps her up in a hug. “She-she’s going out with someone else Nat! I’m too late!” Natasha knows about Wanda’s crush on you, as it was revealed after Wanda finally snapped at her after months of the ex-assassin teasing her about the way she looks at you. Natasha’s always been a very, go for it type person, so that’s the advice she had given Wanda the first time the younger girl asked for help asking you out. The witch practically laughed in her face.

“It’s okay kid……it’s okay.” Natasha tries her best to soothe her, but nothing seems to help as the tears continue to fall so she hesitantly pulls away and asks, “Do you love that girl Wanda?” The answer is obvious. “Yes….more than I love anything.” Wanda says. Natasha gently smiles. “Then you’re going to do what you should have done a long time ago. You’re going to buy her her favorite flowers,” Wanda nods along, sniffling a bit as she tries to build up her courage. “,you’ll put on some nice clothes instead of sweatpants and a hoodie,” she giggles and looks down at her comfortable clothes before nodding. “,and most importantly, you’re gonna do it today. Before she goes out on that date. I’m like 84.62 percent sure she likes you back so it’ll all be all right.” Wanda’s eyes go wide. She was expecting this to be more of a in a few weeks plan, but clearly Natasha had other thoughts. The redhead doesn’t give room for complaint though, as she simply gets up and walks out of the bedroom.

Wanda takes a deep breath, wiping her tears and glancing up at the clock on the wall. It’s currently 4pm, so that means there is 3 hours until your date with that bimbo.

Three hours for her to get a bouquet.

Three hours for her to figure out what she's even going to say.

Three hours for her to get her shit together.

Those three hours are spent with Bucky and Natasha, spending the first hour going to multiple stores in search of the perfect bouquet. It’s stupid really, the need to find the perfect bouquet but the older two just roll their eyes and stay silent. 

The next hour is spent trying to figure out what to say, and both Natasha and Bucky could not stay serious as Wanda rehearsed on a pillow. That pillow was thrown at Natasha's head.

The last hour was an hour of panic, especially when you came in to say your date was 10 minutes away. This was her time. She walks through the hallway, finding you sitting on a couch in the living room. You changed clothes, and you look absolutely stunning. She stops walking for a second to admire you, but a giggle from behind her causes her to abruptly turn around. She sees Tony, Natasha, Bucky, Steve, and Thor all standing there with smiles.

Tony's is more of a smirk, but everyone else's is supportive as they give her silent thumbs up. She rolls her eyes at them being nosy and continues to walk closer to you.

Your focus is on your phone, but you look up with a bright smile when you notice Wanda's platform docs. “Hey Wands! What's up?” She swallows thickly, sweaty hands gripping the bouquet a bit tighter behind her back. “Wands? Why do you look so nervous?” You giggle, and she can't help but smile at the sound. 

The group is still watching from the doorway, and Natasha rolls her eyes when Tony pulls out his phone and presses record.

Wanda reveals what she was hiding, and you immediately gasp at the sight of the beautiful flowers. “Well aren't you just a gentle woman my dear? These are beautiful Wands. Thank you.” She smiles as you bring them a bit closer to your nose and sniff them. “Not as beautiful as you.” She cringes, and you immediately burst out laughing. “That was sweet but it was definitely the cheesiest thing I've ever heard you say.” She nods.

Tony agrees quietly and Bucky hits the back of his head.

“So um….Butterfly.” You nod to acknowledge her. “I was- I was thinking recently and um…” Your phone begins to buzz, and you simply place it in your purse as you give her your full attention. “Well…” She takes a glance at the group who's still in the doorway, and they all send her encouraging smiles. It's then that you notice them, sending them all confused smiles before looking at Wanda again.

She's taking one last deep breath when Jarvis suddenly alerts the house. “There is a woman named Vanessa Tanner at the front gate, saying she's here to pick up her date.” Natasha and Bucky instantly panic, looking at each other before going back to Wanda.

As if those are the magic words, Wanda's eyes widen and she begins to ramble, “I really, really, really like you Butterfly and I know you may not feel the same way but Natasha and Bucky said you did and I figured that if there was a little bit of hope, I should try it.” A shocked look takes over your face. “It's totally fine if you don't feel the same way but I just couldn't let you go out with that bimbo named Vanessa if there was even a small chance you liked me….half as much as I do you.” She doesn't take her gaze off the floor, and she takes your silence as an answer as tears fill her eyes.

“Wanda. Look at me.” You demand, but she shakes her head no and continues to study the carpeted floor. “Wanda. Look…at…me.” She slowly looks at you, and the happiness in your eyes is enough to make her let out a small sigh of relief- not complete relief though. 

“I wish you had told me this before I practically threw myself at a woman I barely know. Because I'd much rather you be the one picking me up for dinner than Vanessa.” You both giggle, and she hesitantly asks, “So...what does that mean for us?” 

Natasha rolls her eyes and Tony shouts, “Ask her out you dumbass!” It's clear he's talking to the witch in front of you and she blushes red as she glares at him before turning back to you. “He's right. So, would you like to go out with me Butterfly?” 

You take a moment to pretend you're thinking about it before asking playfully, “And what would we do on this date Miss Maximoff?” She hadn't really thought about it, so she takes a minute to do that before declaring, “I'd take you out to dinner, not a fancy restaurant with food you hate, but your favorite dinner a few streets away. And then I'd take you dancing to that place we went to for your birthday because you had a lot of fun there, and then I'd bring you back here and make you a homemade dessert. Your favorite.” You smile. “Then yes, I’d love to go out with you Wanda Maximoff.” You lean in a bit to kiss her cheek, and she blushes a bit.

Suddenly, cheering erupts and the sound of a confetti popper going off can be heard. “What the hell Tony?” Wanda asks, but both of you can’t help but chuckle. He grins. “This long lasting nightmare of having to be around you two’s sexual tension is finally over!” Natasha smacks his arms and questions, but it’s more like telling him what to say, “Don’t you mean, “I popped that confetti popper because I’m so happy two of my teammates have finally found happiness”?” He’s silent for a minute before he laughs loudly as says, “No. Not at all. I meant to say, this long lasting nightmare of having to be around you two’s sexual tension is finally over! Let’s party baby!” You giggle, but Wanda narrows her eyes, letting them glow red. Suddenly, the second unused confetti popper in Tony's hand flies up to be level with his face, and he mumbles, “Well shit” right before it goes off. 

While he’s spitting out small pieces of paper from his mouth and trying to blow them out of his nose, the doorbell rings. “It is Vanessa Tanner.” Jarvis notifies, and you start to walk to the door with Wanda hot on your heels. “Where are you going?” She questions with a hint of sadness in her voice as she’s sure you're going to go on that date with Vanessa even after everything just happened. 

“I’m going to go tell her it won’t work out.” You say casually, and the smile is right back on Wanda's face as she uses her powers to freeze you in place and run ahead of you. You simply laugh, calling out, “Wanda! Wanda!” She turns around for a second to look at you. “Be nice please?” She giggles. “It’s nice of you to think I can do that Butterfly.” She runs off to go probably harass Vanessa, and you're left frozen in the hallway with a small chuckle. 

What Wanda doesn’t know is that you’d been waiting for that day even longer than she had. She’d always been it for you, ever since the first day she came to the compound. But over time, you slowly lost hope she felt the same way, and decided to just move on. If Wanda hadn’t done that sudden declaration of love, the future you two eventually have together would have never happened, and that's something you now think about daily.

#marvel x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #fluff #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff oneshot #wanda maximoff fanfiction #the scarlet witch #Scarlett witch x reader #marvel x you

[phoenixinthefiles]

It’s Called “Self-Reflection”

Hobie x reader🕸️…🎸💜

(My first ever x reader, be gentle)

“I look done,” you say, frowning as you analyze your reflection in the mirror.

You quickly whip your head around to the bathroom door and sigh in relief when Hobie doesn’t come through the door.

Majority of your reservations for staying the night with Hobie stemmed from your habit of talking to yourself.

It wasn’t even something you knew that you did until your mom caught you one too many times and you finally accepted that you have a problem.

God forbid Hobie walks in on you talking to yourself, you wouldn’t ever live it down.

You finish getting ready quickly, and you actually look like a person who gets a normal amount of sleep (you don’t).

Yawning, you take the few steps into the kitchen.

Hobie’s standing in front of the cooktop cooking bacon, shirtless.

Not that you don’t appreciate the view…

“When you get popped by that grease, I won’t be listening to any complaints.”

He whips his head around with a grin and he turns the heat on the skillet down before turning back to you.

“Yeah you only hear complaints from yourself.”

You tense up immediately and Hobie leans against the counter with an amused smirk on his face.

Your hands come up to cover your face and you groan.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”

It’s a very pathetic attempt to shake of your embarrassment.

“No? Need me to jog your memory then?”

“Nah my mind’s like a steel trap. So if I can’t remember something you must be making it up.”

He snorts and points at your forehead.

“Must’ve trapped someone up there.”

You sigh, “What’s for breakfast, Hobart?” One last attempt at changing the subject won’t hurt.

He sweeps a hand over the stove, “All the regulars, deary.”

He turns back to grin at you, and you just know he’s gearing up again.

“Your friend up there have any preferences?”

You glare at him and go up to stove, not so gently nudging him out of the way, and ignoring his comment.

“How high do you have this thing?”

He scoffs and nudges you back, “Dictating my cooking now? Better tell your friend up top things don’t work like that round here. ‘S ain’t a democracy, I’m big man.”

“That doesn’t sound like something an anarchist would say.”

He shrugs, “Never good to be too consistent y’know?”

You roll your eyes at him, he only ever uses that line when you trip him up.

He reaches for the skillet on the stove and your brain doesn’t even track the sheer stupidity until he’s already burned himself.

“BLOODY HELL!”

You stand there, your brain still trying to process what he just did, as he turns the tap on and sticks his hand under the water.

Finally, you recover and move to fridge and grab a stick of butter but a sudden bout of laughter stops you before you can put it to use.

Hobie’s finally stopped swearing and now he’s staring at you incredulously.

“Nah, you’re actually mad. I just roasted my hand hand on that pan, and you’re laughing?”

He sounds too shocked to be offended and that makes you giggle even more.

“No, that’s not it,” you gasp out, “I’m just-why would you do that? What possessed you to put your hand fully on the handle of a hot skillet? Palm in perfect position to be burned.”

“Thought I turned the heat down, forgive a man for making a mistake.”

Oh now he wants to advocate graciousness.

You grab a knife and cut a nice sized chunk of butter, before stepping over to Hobie and gently smearing it on his hand.

“I still can’t understand that. You thought you turned the gas down so you touched a hot skillet?”

“You had a full chat to yourself, in a bathroom, while you fancied yourself up?”

“So I’m crazy and you’re stupid?” You retort. “Neither of us comes out on top in this situation.”

His smirk returns and he somehow manages to make the massive burn in the middle of his hand look good.

“Nah, I’m taller, I’ll always come out on top”

You roll your eyes and toss a roll of bandages at him, “Just because you’re a giant means you’re right? This is why I prefer talking to my friend, he always makes sense.”

“Bit hard not to make sense when you’re talking to yourself, isn’t it?”

You don’t even roll your eyes this time, the motion couldn’t show just how exasperated you were with him. (Though that could be the exhaustion, from you not getting enough sleep the past week)

“Fix your hand up and leave me alone, please and thanks.”

“I can only do one of things sorry, and I’m afraid it ain’t gonna be the one you prefer.”

You huff, “Just finish cooking the damn food.”

He clutches his hand dramatically to his chest and looks at you as if you’ve just shown up to some fancy event in your sweats.

“You’d make a man with a burned hand, cook his own breakfast?”

You huff again and push him out of the kitchen forcefully, you barely did anything.

“Fine, I’ll finish it, go water your plants.”

“You talking to me or your friend, y’know-

“Hobart,” you grit out, pinching the bridge of your nose.

He gives you one last smirk as he leans in and kisses your cheek, dashing away before you can swat at him.

“Thank God,” you sigh.

“Gonna assume you were chatting to your friend that time!” Hobie yells.

“HOBART BROWN!”

You can hear him laughing and you flick your middle finger in the direction of the boat he ran off to.

“Gonna find me an actual friend to talk to all the time and see how he likes that.”

Take it I don’t want it anymore @vhstown

#hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown fic #spider punk #hobie brown x reader #fromphoetou #atsv fanfiction #hobie brown #atsv x reader

[shibaraki]

WARM BODIES ┊ GOJO SATORU

tags: GN reader, sick fic, gojo is a big whiny noodle, established (yet unlabelled) relationship, bathing a partner, non sexual nudity, intimacy, fluffy fluff but a smidge of angsty angst

wc: 2k

“Stop being difficult, Satoru”. 

You readjust your grip around his waist and attempt to take on more of his weight, briefly closing your eyes to silence the need to roll them. If he saw, no doubt he would complain. Satoru is heavy without the exhaustion from sickness, but you can tell he’s purposefully feigning complete helplessness. 

It was not often that he was allowed to exhibit such weakness — if viral infection should fall under the definition of weakness. Satoru had a name, an image, and a certain projection of himself to maintain. Such a divine thing could not falter under trivialities; there was no mourning, sloth or envy. If you are condemned to be a God amongst men, what is there left to long for? 

This. A safe place to fall apart, a warm body to curl against that touches you without ulterior motive. You can tell by the way he indulges in your generous love whenever he can — a spare moment will always be spent with you, kissing you without direction, but most of all, doing nothing aside from breathing one another in. 

When you first met Gojo Satoru a small pip of melancholy buried itself into your chest, took root and grew with every encounter. Back then it felt as if there was no one version of him. You saw his demeanour wane and adjust to those around him, shapeshifting into whatever it was they wanted to see in him. The cajoling and arrogance was the only consistent thread he interwove between those masks, and you realised eventually that that very thread had been the thing keeping his seams together. 

Satoru needed to be strong. In the face of his opponents, his allies, his students and his admirers. To stoke kindling of mutiny, to admonish any small spark of disbelief, that strength must be upheld wherever eyes could see. 

You were under no illusions. From the start, you knew that your ability to see through his façades had been the very quality that magnetised him. And you let it happen, because with every true smile he gave you — fond and small, faint crows feet at the corners of his eyes — the ache in your chest lessened, and he began to look more like a man. Less deific. 

The relationship was almost symbiotic, medicinal. It was also something neither of you ever put a name to. In the unpredictable world you lived in, it was much easier that way. During the months that had passed you saw him in fits of laughter, inconsolable and regretful, scarfing down a hot meal made in your kitchen, frustrated, braced over you and shrouded in want. 

You hadn’t seen him sick, not until today. Part of you once wondered if Satoru could even get sick. 

“Be nicer to me. I’m dying,” he bemoans, nose nuzzling into your crown. You lock your knees as they threaten to buckle. Draping himself over you like a second skin, uncomfortably hot to the touch and slightly breathless between words, Satoru seemed to be both suffering and enjoying his sudden sickness. 

“I wish you would do it quietly then,” you huff, struggling in your short walk to the tub. It is already prepared and full of warm water — halfway, just to be safe. Once the levels expectedly rise around his too-big body, you didn’t fancy having to mop up your bathroom floor. 

“I don’t know how to be quiet… you would know,” he mumbles, voice stretched into a tired drawl despite the effort to sound suggestive. As the sentence ends, you have already bent to settle him on the edge of the bath. 

You stand between his thighs, smoothing both hands along his bare shoulders to steady him. The film of sweat sticks to your palms but you say nothing of it. Thankfully he’s already undressed and only left in his boxers, having shed his clothes hours before amidst the worst of the fever. He’s slouched like a puppet with no strings, and he continues to bend until his face is pressed against your chest. 

“Hey,” your brow creases with worry, any previous frustration quickly dissipating at the sight of him struggling. You bring your fingers to cradle his jaw, and his chin tilts until your eyes meet. “You with me, baby?”

Satoru blinks heavily, Elysian eyes clouded. His skin is flushed pink. Flat, white strands of hair cling to the damp on his forehead. Slow, a blissed out grin spreads across his cheeks at the affectionate pet name. “As long as… you want me,” he replies. 

If this illness isn’t contagious then his boyish grin and poor attempt at flirting certainly is. You smile, resisting the urge to kiss him as you push the hair away from his face, “If you cooperate and help me get you into the bath, then I promise to peel your oranges for you even when we’re old”. 

This promise holds a lot of weight. Satoru hates having sticky fingers. A pleased hum rumbles in his throat, and he leans into your touch. “Don’t know if that’s romantic or manipulative”.

“You’re both of those things,” you snort, pushing the flesh together until his lips jut into an unattractive pout, “all the time”. 

“Touché”.

“Come on, Satoru. Off,” you forgo spoiling him further and reach to tug at the waistband of his briefs, “and in!” 

He’s boneless as he moves, shifting his hips left and then right as he shoves the material down his thighs. You crouch to squeeze beneath his knee in encouragement and slip the underwear over his ankles, feeling entirely at home with him despite the nudity. You half expect him to make a joke about where your eyeline falls, but he only watches you with a quiet reverence that warms you inside and out. 

You had checked the temperature while you’d drawn it. Tepid, around thirty one degrees to be careful, probably cooler now that some time has passed. Satoru turns on axis and lowers himself into the tub with a hand on your arm, the surface rising as it is displaced. 

Any and all rigidity immediately bleeds from his body, breathing a long suffering sigh. The bath is hardly long enough for his legs, but they bend willingly as his mouth disappears beneath the water. You’re quick to support him the further he slips, so taken by the relief that he doesn’t catch himself. 

Water ripples in rings as he exhales through his nose. You are submerged up to your elbows and grateful you’d opted for wearing a vest top, fingers interlocked at his back for support. “That feel better, baby?” you murmur. 

He hums a lazy affirmative and it vibrates through the water. Satoru’s lashes are pearly white like the halo of hair settling around his shoulders, his gaze doleful when he peers up at you. With the tension gone, it’s startling how sickly he looks. 

“This thing has really done a number on you, huh?” internally, you debate when and how you’ll free your hands. Louder than anything was the urge to gently scratch at his scalp, the way you knew he liked. “I don’t like seeing you suffer”. 

His movements echo around the room as he finally finds strength, settling both feet flat to the end of the tub and pushing himself up the other.  “Steady,” you smile, releasing your grip to thumb at the pink line that now cuts across the lower half of his face. 

“Bet I look real ugly,” he rasps in quiet theatrics, head rolling slightly into your palm, “don’t look at me”. His lips purse against the skin there in a brief kiss as you continue to stroke his cheek. 

A laugh bubbles in your chest, but you keep it held. Intuitively, you heard the underlying insecurities. “I like you ugly,” you tell him honestly.  “Sometimes you’re so perfect it’s like looking into the uncanny valley. Now you look like a drenched kitten”.

“Rude,” you feel when the pout spreads into a smile, and he nips lightly at the heel of your hand before kissing the spot again. “You shouldn’t bully a sick person”. 

“Then how about I run a cloth over you instead?” 

The drenched kitten absentmindedly nuzzles his nose along your inner wrist, barely holding himself upright. “…‘Kay,” he murmurs. 

Your arm remains around his back as the other leaves his cheek and reaches for a wash cloth. The water distorts around his body as you dip it beside his hip, pale skin almost comparable to a moonlight's reflection beneath the surface. Your fingertips ghost through the soft hair at his navel, feeling the muscles flinch. 

“Gonna start up top, alright?” you explain, voice low as not to disturb the atmosphere. Stowed away in your narrow bathroom like this, it’s as if the two of you are the only people to exist. 

Satoru’s smile deepens, “Must be nice… getting to feel me up…”. 

“Mhm. Lucky I don’t usually need to get you sick to be able to feel you up,” you tease back, the fabric saturated and dripping over his chest as you stretch to run it along his collarbones. 

“No,” he breathes happily, chin tipping back to rest his head against the edge of the bath, throat bared. “You don’t”. 

You continue to wipe away at his skin in an effort to soothe him and further allay the fever. Gentle, purposeful motions over the lines and curves of his body. Your tender cadence continues as you instruct him to lift his arms, one by one kneading the flesh into smooth dough, accounting for every finger as you bring them to your lips. For each kiss his face further slacks, mouth parted to exhale soft breath, cheeks flush with more than sickness. 

The sight of him flowers love in your chest. It aches, not because it’s empty, but because it is full. “Think if I tell you something while you’re slightly delirious, you’ll forget I said it?” 

The cloth is pleasant on his skin as you wait for his response. It’s your own — one you know he favours and steals when he uses your shower, but adamantly denies doing so. Your caress has lowered over his pink chest to his abdomen, drawing circles into his hip. 

You can see his body naturally reacting to the touch, blood gathering between his legs, but he makes no indication of wanting more. Had he asked, you would have denied him tonight anyway. 

“Maybe,” he mumbles, watching you behind half lidded eyes. He looks benevolent. If you had to choose your favourite version of Satoru, you would pick Contented. 

He’s saying ‘I can’t promise anything’, just without as many words. You laugh warmly, and slide the cloth along his thighs with some finality. Chances are, your doting of him would be material to poke fun at you for the rest of the month. 

Your silence stretches out but he doesn’t press you. Instead you soak the cloth once more and squeeze before patting it across his forehead, wiping the damp hair back before you lean forward to kiss between his brows. The feeling coaxes his eyes shut, and when they do, you dip to kiss each closed lid. A sharp inhale ricochets throughout the room. 

There, the six eyes protected only by a thin layer of skin, you speak. It isn’t a confession of love, but it is as good as any. 

“You’re my favourite person”. 

Moving back just a hair's breadth, they don’t open again. They seem to visibly tighten, a crease forming across the bridge of his nose, like he was trying not to cry. He sighs deeply, smile trembling.

When he replies it is as expected, masked despite catching in his throat. You don’t mind the feigned nonchalance, or his need to shield himself with egotism. Because just as it has been from the start, you can see right through him, as he can through you. 

“‘Course I am,” he says. “I’m Gojo Satoru”.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader

[toomuchracket]

angsty part two hmm. well maybe it can have something to do with whatever the heck was going on at electric umbrella studios. maybe girly is there helping out bea (we can pretend maybe she’s doing stuff with jack and not matty for ease of everyone’s heart lmao) then there is that little listening party or whatever where taylor and matty are seen together but maybe girly’s heart couldnt stand to stick around for very long so she leaves early. maybe in this dream matty pulls his head out of his ass and decides he will do anything and be anything that girly wants him to be because this thing with taylor is not doing it for him either

ok! edited the request slightly. and it doesn't have a happy ending because actually i'm a messy bitch who lives for drama. please note: THIS ISN'T ACTUALLY CANON IN THE D WORD UNIVERSE IT'S JUST A COLLECTIVE NIGHTMARE. ok. lol. happy new year. enjoy <3

gone four weeks, part 2 (d word matty x reader angst)

“oh my god, hi! you came! oh, thank you so much!” taylor pulls you into a hug, which you reciprocate warmly; you've no problem with her, after all. “and you look amazing! your hair! those shoes! it's a new look for you. i like it.”

you smile. “thank you, i just fancied a bit of a change. and thank you for inviting me! i was so touched when i got your message.”

“matty said it was your favourite of my albums - i couldn't not have you here.”

what the fuck?

“oh, he did?” you try to keep your face and voice steady. “that was nice of him.”

taylor nods. “it was the first thing he said when i first wondered if anyone would even come to a 1989 listening party - you would, if you were around. thank god margaret ran into you last week and told me you were!”

you murmur a “yeah”, in response, too busy reeling from the sudden emotional pain in your heart to reply properly. blinking a couple of times, you look back towards the front door of the studio to see more people coming in. “taylor, i'll catch up with you later, yeah? let you speak to… oh my god, i'm at the same party as kendrick lamar? fucking hell.”

she laughs, squeezing your arm. “no worries, babe. i'll see you later! matty’s… somewhere, if you want to catch up with him”.

not bloody likely. “cool. see you!”

you smile politely at kendrick, who returns it (!!), before heading off into the busy room. there are people you recognise absolutely everywhere you turn, but nobody you really know, more just celebrities you'd be worried about embarrassing yourself in front of. no sign of jack, or margaret, or even matty - not that you particularly want to see him, to be honest, but a familiar face (one not from your tv screen, that is) would definitely calm you down.

of course, so would a cigarette.

pulling your cigs and lighter from your bag, you nudge the side door open with your hip and step out into the alleyway and still-warm evening air. and then, almost immediately, you wish you hadn't. because, standing with his back to you - although that makes no difference, you'd know those back muscles and that head of hair anywhere - is matty, talking to jack and margaret, all three of them smoking.

fuck. this was an awful idea. but you can't turn back to go inside now, because jack's clocked you; he’s beaming, waving at you, shouting “sprout! get over here and smoke with us!”

despite yourself, you smile, wandering over and allowing yourself to be enveloped in a hug from the man and his fiancée. “wish you'd stop bloody calling me that, jack.”

“never,” jack replies, kissing your head as he releases you into margaret's arms. “you're sprout, and he's cabbage.”

“whatever - hi, mags,” you kiss your friend's cheek as she breaks apart and settles her arm around your waist, before reluctantly meeting your ex's gaze. you're irritated to see that he looks good. like, really good, something-twinging-between-your-legs good. get a grip! “matthew.”

“alright?” matty smiles at you, but it doesn't reach his eyes. “almost didn't recognise you. hair's shorter.”

you shrug. “wanted something different.”

“sounds like you.”

the snide comment slices through you. unlike last time, though, you don't tear up; you fire right back at him. “well, i'm at an age where i can afford to experiment.”

matty frowns, while jack and margaret burst into giggles. the latter kisses the side of your head. “god, you’re funny. i can't believe you were in the city all this time and you didn't tell us! i miss hanging out with you.”

“i was busy,” you place a cigarette between your lips, shaking hands trying and failing to successfully operate the lighter. matty wordlessly steps forward and does it for you - your cheeks burn as much as the cig does. “thank you.”

“don't,” matty waves it off, taking a long drag of his own cig before looking at you again. “so. you haven't been back home?”

“not since the last time you saw me,” you ash the cig, pointedly looking down at the ground. “there hasn't been any work for me to do, so there's nothing keeping me there, really.”

matty scoffs. “typical, you prioritising your job.”

“well, it's what you pay me for. you should be happy i care so much about my career, really, matty,” you smile, saccharine as summer peaches, before turning to jack and margaret. “anyway, how's wedding planning going?”

jack breaks into an excited soliloquy that you can only half focus on, hoping you're timing the oohing and aahing and awwing at his fiancée’s enthusiastic interjections right; most of your attention, you hate to say, is focused on the man opposite you, clearly - to you, at least - upset. the familiar guilt begins to gnaw at your ribcage, and you're thankful when margaret checks her watch and begins to usher you back inside.

matty, though, has other ideas. he touches your elbow, so lightly you barely feel it, and yet your body reacts as if he's punched you. “can i talk to you alone for a minute?”

panicked, you turn towards jack, who nods. “you still have a few minutes. i just need to go in to set up. see you in there!”

shit.

once you're alone with your ex, you move to brace yourself against the wall, folding your arms. “what?”

“why didn't you tell me you were in new york?”

“why would i?”

“well,” matty's voice falters; when he speaks again, it's almost a whisper. “i don't know. maybe we could've, like, gone for a drink. or you could've come down here to hang out.”

“again, why would i?” you tilt your head. “no offence, mate, but hanging out with my ex and his new girlfriend isn't exactly my idea of a fun time. or just hanging out with my ex full stop.”

“thanks for that,” matty grimaces.

you sigh. “look, i know you well enough to be able to read your cryptic fucking subtext. i've been alright, matty, i really have. i've been with friends.”

“you don't have any friends in new york.”

“and how the fuck would you know that? honest to fucking god,” you snap. “i didn't tell you everything about me…”

“i know that well enough.”

“...but, if you must know, one of my friends from home opened an exhibition in tribeca. orla.”

matty nods. “we went to her london opening together before… us, didn't we?”

the memory feels distant, as if from another life, but it hurts all the same. “yeah.”

“i would've liked to have gone to her show here, too. she's good.”

you smile genuinely for the first time, pride for your friend stronger than the fucked up pot of feelings you have towards matty. “it was really something. i helped set it up, actually. was fun.”

“really?” matty laughs; something cracks inside you when he does. “yeah, i can see you being good at that, actually.”

you look at the ground, still smiling, but less now. “been thinking about switching to it full-time. curation and stuff.”

“oh,” matty sounds crestfallen. you peek up at him to find that he looks it, too. “well… if that's what you want to do, i s'pose you should look into it,” he checks the time on his phone, while your heart sinks impossibly deeper. “it's starting soon. i'll head in now, and then if you-”

“wait thirty seconds before i follow you? yeah, i know the drill,” you smile lifelessly. “least you won't have to worry about that if i get a new job, yeah? you'll likely never have to see me again, let alone risk being seen with me.”

“i- anyway,” matty clears his throat, turning quickly away from you. “i should go.”

“okay,” the door closes behind him before you can even get the second syllable out, and there you are, alone again, in the suddenly-cold night air. you shakily exhale your cigarette for the last time, stubbing it out on the wall and stamping the butt with your high heel for good measure; once no trace of the flame remains, you go back inside.

for the rest of the night, part of you wishes you hadn't bothered. while hearing your favourite album is truly, genuinely brilliant, the experience is marred somewhat by your ex sitting in the seat opposite yours with taylor's head on his shoulder: you can't quite lipsync along to this love or clean or you are in love without your lips beginning to tremble, the new song now that we don't talk genuinely makes you nauseous when you figure out the lyrics, and actually hearing matty's voice on a vault track is painful beyond words.

but still, you clap, you fake smiles, you cheer for taylor and jack and the work they've put into the production. it's not easy, though, and you're thankful for the distraction when your phone buzzes with an invitation while you're alone at the drinks table grabbing another champagne.

“now i know you're not about to entertain a man who sent you an i miss you, come over text,” taylor’s voice sounds scandalised from behind you.

you turn, grinning, smile dropping slightly when you see she isn’t alone. “don't worry, i'm taking the piss out of him for it as we speak…”

“good.”

“...but i am gonna go and see him, in a minute,” you finish, looking down at your phone and giggling when you see a reply. “if that's alright, that is.”

matty raises his eyebrows the way he does before he opens his mouth, but taylor beats him to it. “look at you giggling at him! of course! go! but first,” she gently drags you to a nearby sofa and settles onto it, patting the seat beside her; you take it, while matty awkwardly settles himself on a footstool in front of you both. “tell me about him.”

“you really want to know?” you aren't quite sure which of them the question is directed at. taylor nods, and judging by matty's expression he's also curious, so you sigh and keep talking. “well, his name is michael. he's a playwright. we met through friends. he's lived in new york his whole life. he seems slightly obsessed with me, but in a good way - so far, at least. he's very sweet.”

“a playwright? that's cool,” taylor grins. “what does he look like?”

“a bit like andrew garfield, actually,” you laugh, looking down at your phone again. “and he's offering to meet me at a bar, so it's probably time for me to be on my way.”

“sure. have fun, stay safe,” she pulls you into a hug; you see matty wince, out of the corner of your eye. “thank you so much for coming. when do you go back home?”

“not until the end of the month. i don't know if i'm actually going on the festival run, yet,” you shrug. “but i'll go home before it, just in case.”

“it's a lot, isn't it?”

taylor, babe, you don't even know the half of it. “yeah. it won't be easy.”

she hums. “we should hang out before you go. nothing crazy, just dinner or drinks or something. like, something fun, before you have to go back to keeping a record label running,” she nudges matty, who smiles quickly but continues looking at the floor. “i'll call you, okay?”

“that sounds good,” you stretch. “right, i really should go - the bar is a twenty-minute walk from here and i said i'd meet michael in fifteen.”

matty tuts. “he's knowingly letting you walk alone to meet him at half ten at night? no. absolutely not.”

you roll your eyes. “for god's sake, i'll be fine. i'm an adult!”

“yeah, babe, but still,” taylor’s eyes are wide. “take a car! for our peace of mind, at least.”

our. you do your best not to shudder, and smile instead. “if you're sure…”

“she's sure,” matty nods. “get it to take you back to your… whatever it is you're staying in after your drink, too.”

“i mean, i'm going back to his,” you look matty dead in the eye when you say it, and the sadness that fills his is impossible to miss. christ, what is his deal? “but thanks. anyway,” you hug taylor before you stand. “thanks again for tonight. i'll see you soon,” you nod at matty. “and i'll… see you at finsbury, definitely. maybe sooner. i don't know. there'll be an email soon confirming what's happening. bye.”

much to your chagrin, matty stands too. “i'll walk you out. make sure you actually get in the car - i know what you're like.”

for fuck's sake. “alright. bye, taylor!” you wave as you move towards the door.

“bye, babe!”

you walk quickly through the corridors, trying to keep some distance between you and matty. annoyingly, though, he matches your pace, and speaks. “so… michael.”

the vitriol practically drips from his tongue. you scoff. “what about him?”

“tell me more about him. what’s he like?”

“he's my age,” you pointedly don’t look at matty when you say that, but you hear the way his breath catches in his throat. the guilt begins gnawing again; you keep talking to distract yourself from it. “he's ridiculously american, which means he doesn't get my sense of humour sometimes, but as soon as he found out i lived in london he took the piss and started calling me ‘princess’.”

the word leaves your mouth before you can stop it; as soon as it does, you bite the insides of your lips together, guilt spreading to every bone in your body. tentatively, you look round at matty, who's stopped walking in favour of looking at the ground and clasping his hands behind his neck. everything about him radiates hurt, and it only worsens when he quietly speaks. “he calls you what?”

you can't bring yourself to say it again. “you heard me, matty.”

“wish i fucking hadn't,” your ex looks up at you again, and you know he's about to verbally lash out; he looks exactly the same as he did before you split. “you really let him call you that? my name for you?”

“think you lost all rights to that the day you dumped me, to be honest, mate.”

“fucking hate it when you call me that. stop it.”

“well, i'm sure as shit not going to resort to what i used to call you, am i?”

matty laughs mirthlessly. it's the worst sound you've ever heard. “no, you've got michael for that now.”

“no, i haven't,” you're loathe to admit what you're about to say, but you really want him to feel bad. “haven't slept with him yet - or anyone, for that matter, since you broke up with me,” you glance at matty, who looks rightfully sheepish, and decide to just fuck with him even further. “but maybe i will tonight. s'about time i felt good about myself.”

“you know, you've been really fucking snide today. i don't know what i've done to deserve it.”

you stop dead in your tracks, turning to face him in total bewilderment. “well, aside from the whole, y'know, dumping me at the first sign of disagreement, you fucking started it with the arsey comments today, matty. sounds like you? fuck off.”

he shrugs. “but it does. you don't want what i want, so… why bother keeping this going?”

you huff, pushing the door to the staircase open. “i never said i didn't want to get married and have kids, by the way.”

“what? yes you-”

“no, i didn't,” you smile sadly. “all i said was that i was unsure, and because it wasn't me immediately saying yes to something for the first time in our relationship, you took it as a no.”

matty's shaking his head. “no, that-that's not-”

“yes it is, sweetheart,” the tears are beginning to prick at your eyes; matty's too, you can see. “that's what happened.”

“but you freaked out so much…”

“because you sprung it on me, out of the blue! come on, matty,” you can feel your jaw trembling. “you would've done the same, if a partner had asked you that question when you were my age.”

matty sniffles. “please stop bringing up the age gap, darling.”

the pet name enrages you; it's agonising how natural it sounds coming from his lips, and even more painful how automatically your body reacts to it. “well, i can't not, given that it's what fucked us up, in the end,” you take a deep breath, and walk out the side door onto the street. it's fairly quiet, you're relieved to see. “besides - i thought you liked it? that was my appeal, wasn't it? being young, and pretty, and naive, so fucking naive. a meek little toy, something you could play with however you wanted without fear of it rebelling against what you wanted. because that's really all that matters, isn't it, what you want? course it is, because when that was threatened, you stopped wanting me.”

hot tears are hitting your cheeks with increasing speed, but your voice somehow stays strong, unwavering, controlled; the same can't be said for matty, who's crying just as much as you. “no, no, that's not true, not at all, please don't say that.”

“but that's what it feels like,” your voice cracks into a sob. “you didn't even want to talk to me about it. you were just... fine with letting me go. i didn't think you could ever be so cruel to someone you claim to have loved, once, matty. especially not someone who loves you as much as i do,” sniffling, you wipe your eyes and open a car door, quickly telling the driver the address of the bar before turning back to matty. “i appreciate you getting taylor to invite me tonight, but i think it was a mistake; we can't be friends, you and i, we really can't. i'm sorry, it just… hurts,” you check the time. “i need to go. take care.”

it's too warm in the car. you roll the window down slightly. you can hear matty crying from halfway down the street.

#i'm very sorry #mads muses #mads does writing #d word matty #matty asks #angst asks #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy angst #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

[the-odd-devil]

Gods and Good Boys

Homelander x f!reader

Summary : You know something is wrong, a simple image management employee has nothing to do in this fancy lounge at the highest of Vought tower. When Homelander enters the room with a satisfied smile, you know you’re fucked. The rumors you've heard about him and his constant presence at your office do nothing to help get him out of your head but will certainly help you get out of this situation, or maybe make it worse.

Word Count : 4 042

Warnings : !!! minors DNI !!!, non-con/dub-con, sexual harassment, canon-typical violence, blood, death, smut, mommy kink, degrading, sub!Homelander, dom!reader (let me know if I forgot any)

Author's Note : So first fic eh? More specifically, it’s the first time I've written fanfiction in English, but I loved it so much! Much more than my native language for some reason? Anyway I had the best time ever writing Homelander, he is so fun to write (even more when he’s a sub oops), hope you will have fun reading it too!

 But before the Big Boy™ I want to give a big big BIG thank you to @mietkoz and @finniestoncrane for proofreading the fic and being sweethearts, they really hyped me up and makes me want to write more! <3 Another big big BIG thank you to @spicedchaiandromeda and @just-call-me-angel who inspired me a lot to write and were so nice to me <3 

Hope you’ll like it!

This whole thing was weird as fuck. Two people, who you immediately guessed that they were a lot more important than you, had brought you and this other Vought employee, in this fancy lounge decorated with expensive stuff. The price of the furniture did nothing to make the room more appealing, it felt empty and cold. They left you and the other girl in the middle of it. While looking at each other, you remembered seeing her at some office inside the tower, her name being Grace and being in a similar post as you at Vought, she was in a high level of stress, picking her nails and looking generally concerned about why you were here. Honestly, you were concerned too, random office workers at Vought have nothing to do at the highest of the tower, but your mind was empty, not knowing what to expect.  

You hear clicking heels coming to the door from the hallway and soon Ashley is standing right in front of both of you, a fake and uptight smile on her lips and an all too much joyful tone. 

“So, I suppose you know why you’re here!”

You and the other girl look at each other with a questioning expression before looking back at Ashley.

“You’re gonna have an interview with Homelander!” she said while doing a little forced cheering movement.

Ah yes, Homelander. You’ve seen him more than once in the office area explaining to employees what they have to do and sticking his nose in other people’s business. With his fake smile and false sympathy. You know and everyone knows that he’s close to a no return point at every second, ready to turn the room into ashes. What you really think about the fucker is another story tho. You first didn’t think much about him, in your department, the supes are more of a product than anything, you don’t really see them as a person anymore, even more when you’re the one who has to cover their “mistakes”, if killing innocents can be considered as a mistake. You prefer not to think about him in particular, even if you know only the surface level about what he’d done, aka, what you have to deal with and then dilute for the press ; seeing him in person, close to you, looking at you, is totally different. He did nothing that would be considered “abnormal”, at least, for him, in the office. He tries to play it cool, be the nice guy, but his sudden voice bursts betray him. 

What really scares you is what he makes you feel. Things that you prefer ignoring. He undressed you with his eyes or made prolonged eye contact more than once and you couldn’t refrain from the heat that you felt. The asshole had a really pretty face and a shark smile, the way his expressions distort oscillating between rage, pure distress and complete emptiness made you imagine how you could completely break him with just a few sentences and how he could annihilate you in a blink of an eye. The thoughts of you possibly dominating this god-like figure have kept you awake more than once. 

“Did we do something wrong?” Grace says timidly, you could hear how anxious she was.

“Oh no no no! He just wants a new “assistant” and asked me if he could see you in private.” you could hear the fake enthusiasm and the quotation marks in Ashley’s tone. 

The word “assistant”, isn’t a good omen for where this situation is going, you know how perverted Homelander, and the vast majority of the supes are, and you’re thinking that being fired isn’t that horrible after all.

“Anyway! Try to make a good impression!” Ashley says before making her way to the door.

“Wait? You’re gonna let us here??” your voice makes you suddenly aware how much you were panicking.

“Yes? I’m not the one choosing.” she says, a frown across her face before finally leaving.

And there you are, Grace and you standing in the middle of this Vought’s lounge, clearly design for la crème de la crème of those who enters the tower, not knowing what the fuck is gonna happen when Homelander is going to join you. 

He probably was waiting for Ashley to inform him that you were here because he arrived shortly after she left, you even suspect him of waiting next to the room and most certainly watching and listening since you were here. He enters the room and closes the door, placing the key on one of the tables next to the couch before putting his hands behind his back, a pleased smile on his face and places himself in front of both of you, making direct eye contact with Grace and then with you. Grace instantly looked away but you couldn’t stop looking in his icy blue eyes. It feels like the eye contact is during an eternity, none of you looking away. He breaks the contact when he is starting to speak after clapping once in his hands, making Grace and you jump.

“So, what did Ashley tell you?”

You were growing more and more confuse with this whole situation, what the fuck does he want? 

“Come on girls! Speak!” he says, elevating his voice and clapping his hands. There it is, his constant struggle at keeping his calm. Grace was mortified and you answer Homelander, hesitation visible in your face and voice :

“She told us about an assistant thing…”

“Oh yeah… You know, days are a little bit boring sometimes…”

You look at him while he starts pacing in the room, getting closer to you and Grace. When he’s close enough, he starts petting Grace's hair like a dog and turns his head to look at your side. You could feel his warm breath on your cheek, too afraid to turn your head and look at him in the eyes when he is this close to you. He withdraws his hand from Grace’s hair to start stroking your cheek instead.

“I just can’t decide which one of you I’m going to fuck on a daily basis.”

You can see his fucking smile in your peripheral vision, well aware of the power his holding on the situation. Your breath is stuck in your throat, your vision is starting to blur, your blood runs cold, you feel like your soul just left your body and you’re not able to move anymore. You're out of your paralyzed state when you see and hear Grace running to the door and starting pulling on it in panic, unable to unlock it. You watch the action with eyes wide open, panicking more and more but unable to move or react, knowing too well that this situation is about to get worse. You know Homelander too much to know that showing him signs of resilience is a very very bad idea. He grabs your chin so hard that it hurts you, turning your head in order that you face him again. His eyes are closed and he lightly shakes his head, he seems disappointed as if a little kid just did something wrong and he’s about to reprimand them. Grace is still trying to open the door in panic and starts to cry some “please!”, “let me go!”, “please”, Homelander just turns his head looking at her with some disappointment, still holding you before melting her head with his laser eyes. 

Her body falls to the ground, headless. You contain the screams who are holding in your throat, so much that your body begins to contract. Your eyes are burning, holding tears in a terrorized expression. Homelander turns his face, having a sweet forced smile, looking at you like he was proud of you being an obedient girl who listens to him. You feel sick. He hums, approaching his face even more, you could feel the vibration in his throat. 

“I guess it means that you’re the one I choose.

SO!”

The fact that his expression is changing once more, so rapidly into something completely different, has always scares you, today, more than anything. You don’t know what to expect next. His now happy and calm expression and the fact he starts pacing again in the room only calms you slightly, leaving you some time to think of what to do next. 

He ends up facing you, a few feet away, his smile still on his face. It is the kind of smile you know is pacific, that nothing will happen to you if you do right. It is comforting in some way. Some agonizing seconds pass, before he finally says something. 

“What are you waiting for? Show me.” 

You didn’t expect that. Not the abrupt demand but the tone of his voice. Very deep and low, vibrating through your core. All the deep, filthy feelings you have for him are coming back to the surface. His fucking gaze, looking right through you with lust and envy, his satisfied smile who knows he can have everything he wants. You’ve noticed every time he passes by your office. You were sure you were imagining things, you are now certain that everything he did was on purpose. This wasn’t a wet dream anymore. Homelander was here, waiting for you to make the first move, if you didn’t, you'd end up like Grace whose blood was spreading across the fancy carpet of the lounge. 

You compose yourself, sniffing the results of the tears in your eyes, trying to make the feeling you had when you saw him at your office fully resurface.  

He often went into the offices of your department, putting his nose in everything. You thrived on the view every time. Even knowing everything he’s done, you couldn’t stop looking at him. Not only do you find him beautiful, but when he comes to your floor he always has his worried puppy face. He seems so sad and anxious wanting to know if the public still loves him, seeing him in this state makes you hot all over. 

One day, he ends up noticing your glances, you can only also guess that your expression said a lot more than you wished, and till that day he began visiting your desk every time he came down here. 

It was mostly light teasing, and you understand now, flirting. You thought he didn’t mean much until today. It seems that he finds making people uncomfortable funny. You would have never guessed it meant anything. You were always flustered nonetheless. 

Most of the time, he exaggeratedly bent next to you to watch your computer screen, his mouth ending up to be impossibly close to your ear, where he whispered saying some uninteresting shit about what’s on the screen, most of the time, he didn’t even know what he saw meant, and you didn't really listened to him anyway, his low and deep voice reverberating down to your core. You remember your mind spiraling and only being able to concentrate on the wetness in your panties. Sometimes in the blur of his sayings, you could recall him calling you pretty, or lightly degrading you, it only made you spiral even more. 

Being in the break room instead of your desk didn't stop him from harassing you, or whispering in your ear. He looked at you like a prey, you were his prey everytime he went to the office. You should have called sexual harassment. You didn’t. You know it wouldn’t change anything, you thought he was like that with everyone. Even one of your colleagues suggested it. She knew damn well that there is absolutely no point of doing that.

You usually just didn't respond to him, just getting more and more red and wet, sometimes swallowing and letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Except the last time he came to see you in the break room. 

It started like usual, the usual being him spotting you in the break room and immediately entering and sticking to you, pressing his torso against your back and his lips against your ear. You could see and feel his hand every time, hesitating to go on your hips. He began whispering in your ear, a lot nicer than all the other times, things like “you’re so pretty today”, “let me buy you another coffee”, “we can go to a calmer place if you want”... You were already red and wet from the few sentences and his proximity. When he bent over to take a hot chocolate your breath stopped. You could feel him already getting hard on your ass. 

He took his drink and went to sit on the break room table. You couldn’t help but watch him across the room. He was delighted seeing your red face and your look filled with lust and shame. 

He slapped on his thigh two times, calling you like a child : 

“Come sit with me.”

 You took the closest seat to him, hypnotized, incapable of thinking or saying anything. Your cup of coffee was trembling in your hand. Attentively, you watched him take a mouthful of his chocolate milk. He took so much milk so rapidly that some was left on the corner of his mouth. 

The satisfied look on his face and his unusually soft smile made you lose your mind. You didn’t even had time to realize what you were doing, that your hand was already cupping his cheek and your thumb was gently whipping off the cream on his face. 

His surprised look was rapidly replaced by a look of pure bliss, his head leaning on your hand, his eyes closing and his mouth slightly opening while he exhaled a long breath. You couldn’t recall if you had an orgasm right then, seeing him so submissive in the palm on your hand ; an electric shock went through your body, you feel like you blacked out and next thing you know you were splashing cold water on your face in the closest bathroom, hyperventilating. You could see your mascara running on your cheeks, asking yourself how you were gonna explain your current state to your colleagues. 

You don’t remember the rest of this day, but you remember him, staying in the break room, his hand caressing where yours was, watching you leave with puppy eyes, his puppy eyes that were the only thing you could think of the following days. You remember thinking of the rumor. The rumor that made you so horny you had to excuse yourself to the bathroom. The one about Homelander you’ve heard the first month you’ve been working in Vought : about  how particular his relationship with Madelyn Stillwell, the ex-Senior Vice President of Hero Management, was. You remember finishing on your toy that night, this idea and what happened leaving your mind running free. 

You know what to do, you know what he wants. There is no other choice, you’ll give it to him while refusing to admit to yourself that you want it too. 

He is in front of you, a small smirk on his lips, challenging you. You feel like a deer catched in headlights feeling so small in front of him standing straight up and looking down on you. You take a few seconds composing yourself, taking a deep breath. You know exactly what he wants and you were going to give it to him. His expression changes as he sees you fake confidence, questioning but still challenging; you look at him through your lashes, a devious smile on your lips. You took a few steps until you were facing him, close enough to hear his breathing speeding a bit. 

You bring slowly your hand to his cheek, locking your eyes on his face, trying your best to look both sweet and flirty. Your heart skips a beat, your breath shaking slightly. You feel like your body is on autopilot while there is a storm in your mind.  His eyes are following the action, eager for some contact. Once your hand is cupping his cheek, you start to stroke lightly with your thumb. Homelander directly melts into your touch, leaning into your hand ,closing his eyes and slightly opening his mouth, bliss and release across his face. He let out a deep breath while relaxing into your hold, he was looking like an asleep kitten, almost purring in your hand. You try to keep your composure, feeling your stomach dropping at the sight of this god-like being turning into putty to your touch, making you feel so powerful. Your confidence level being higher seeing his soft expression, you decided to lean more into the situation. You approach him till your mouth is the closest possible to his ear.

“You really need someone to take care of you mh?”

The shaky whimper he let out makes you tremble. Even knowing the rumors, and witnessing a glimpse of it before, being in first line, and being the one who made him whimper makes you weak and you could already feel yourself getting wet. You continue stroking his cheek, drinking in his reactions.  You’ve always liked how expressive he is, the tiny movement of his face while he is losing himself in pleasure sends you into a loop as you whisper again in his ear : 

“You look so lonely… Poor boy… Don’t worry, mommy’s gonna take care of you.”

You put your other hand in his blond hair, feeling them on your fingers and appreciating how soft they are. You’re totally losing yourself now, hypnotized by his trembling, almost whining voice : 

“Yes! Yes please…”

Any sense of logic leaves your mind as you hear his voice, lust now controlling you. You move your hand to put his chin in your palm and start tracing his lips with your thumb, his mouth opening in a silent moan. You can’t help putting your finger in his mouth. He immediately closes it and starts sucking on your thumb. You don’t control the little moan escaping your mouth, making him moan too, unable to restrain. You start to unconsciously rube your thighs, eager for some contact and relief. Your eyes leave his face and meet his crotch, his dick hard. Your pussy throbbing at the sight and size. Homelander is still lost in the moment, punctuating his sucking with little moans who make you weak.

You can’t resist touching his dick anymore and took your hand out of his face, leaving his mouth empty making him whine at the loss. 

“You’re so eager… Mh? Pretty boy…”

You finish your sentence with your hand ghosting over him, feeling his length, making him groan at both your praise and the feather-like touch before thrusting his hips to fully meet you.  You tut and shake your head :

“You’re really disappointing mommy, baby…” 

Punctuating your sentence with a sad pout. You see his face contracting and looking up, while he moves back his body, as he concentrates to obey you. 

“That’s my good boy.”

His focused face stretches into a proud smile, still looking up, scared that looking at you will make him lose control. 

You smile too, satisfied and shocked by how well you can make him obey you. You apply more pressure, stroking him as you see his expressions tighten. He is trying so hard to keep composure, you don’t know if you will be able to contain yourself too, his almost pained face making you feel closer and closer even if he still hasn't touched you, hands in fist at his sides, waiting for an order to start touching you . 

You suddenly cut off all contact, Homelander making the saddest and most pathetic whine at the loss, lowering his head to look in your eyes, wanting to know what he did wrong.  

“What’s wrong baby?”

Another whine escapes his mouth, urging you to touch him again. You lock eyes, look and voice assertive : 

“Get on that couch.”

He doesn’t think twice and sits on the couch next to you, his eyes are glossy, filled with lust as he looks at you like a puppy waiting for approbation after doing a trick.

“Come on, lay down.” 

He does as you say, you can hear his heavy breath as he waits for more. You approach him like a predator, and sit on his lap, he whimpers at the contact of your pussy, feeling both of your wetness on his costume. You start moving your hips languidly, making him groan. You want more friction, to start moving quicker, you’ve been waiting for some form of release for so long ; but you’re determined to watch him completely lose himself beneath you.  

You continue your agonizing movements (for both of you), the room starting to echo both of your moans. You’re very glad that this lounge has one-way windows, but you doubt the fine glass will be enough to muffle both of your screams. You don’t really care at this point though, the gossip that may happen in the tower being insignificant over the power and the pleasure you are feeling in this instant. Plus, everybody will know anyway considering Homelander reputation, and, oh yeah, the dead body still emptying itself from his blood next to you, but who you totally forgot, your mind clearly elsewhere. 

Your head tossed backward, eyes closed, the sweet moans of Homelander starting to sound more and more demanding, the friction of the his dick on your clothed and wet mount making you lose control, you almost jump when you feel his hands grabbing your waist using his superhuman force to make you move quicker. 

“Did I allow you to touch me?”

Your strict voice makes him stop all movement. He closes his mouth and rapidly shakes his head, hands still on your waist. You furrow your brows harder making him quickly withdraw his hand. You pick back up your previous pace, making him open his mouth again.

“I thought you were mommy’s good boy… Seems like you’re just a dumb slut…”

The whine he lets out is louder than any of the preceding ones, making a deep, sadistic smile grow on your lips and your hips moving faster. You can feel your climax being closer and closer, finally getting some relief. 

“You can touch mommy now…” 

You say at the same time a moan escapes your lips. He places both of his hands on the top of your hips, following your movement as he catches the rhythm with his. 

“You’re such a pretty slut, doing what mommy says.”

His moans are louder at every degradation and praise. 

Your climax coming closer and closer as you can feel his, you start muttering incoherent degrading praises making him moan and buckle his hips at each one of them. Your movements begin to be uncoordinated as you can feel your orgasm arriving with full force, as Homelander’s are becoming more and more brutal. In a final thrust, you feel his dick twitch and release in his costume as you continue riding him pursuing your own high, making him whine at the over stimulation. Your orgasm follows quickly after, a wave of pleasure you’ve never felt before spreading all over your body, making your eyes rolling and watering and your body uncontrollably shivering. 

You fall down to his chest, both of you catching your breath. Once your heart is catching an almost normal beating, you lift your head and give him a soft and chaste kiss on his cheek.

“You did great.”

Before leaving him completely spent on the couch, still catching his breath, a wet spot on his crotch. You smile to yourself seeing him in this disheveled state, making a mental image for future nights by yourself.You take the key on the small table and pull down your skirt while walking to the door, hoping that it will be long enough to cover how wet the top of your legs are. You give one more look at the decapitated body of Grace, trying not to step on the blood, before opening the door and leaving the lounge and going to the bathroom, and then leave the tower, your mind still not recording what happened nor trying to figure out what all of that means for the future.

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander x y/n #homelander smut #the boys #anthony starr #homelander x f!reader #homelander x fem!reader

[tired-biscuit]

Brother's Approval

Pairing: Kiba Inuzuka/fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ content [minors dni] modern AU and a bit of a crossover. stepcest, stepbrother!kiba, manipulation, infidelity, heavy degrading (seriously, he's a real cunt in this), 69, unprotected sex, creampie, dubcon.

Word count: 9.6k

Masterlist

ayo, special thanks to @sneetsnoot for the peach idea!!

KIBA’S day off isn’t going all that well.

Despite the easy-going setting, the tall brunet feels the exact opposite of laid-back as he attempts to relax at the beach his family had barely managed to persuade him into visiting that hazy Friday afternoon.

Even sitting in the shade doesn’t help. The heat is unbearable and it makes Kiba wonder why on earth he’s even agreed to going out on the hottest day of the year. I mean, he doesn’t even like the beach all that much. Doesn’t enjoy the scorching sun that other people throw themselves under in the same manner he tosses burger patties on a grill, in hopes they’ll catch a tan.

Looking off into the distance with a tightly furrowed brow, trendy Ray-Ban sunglasses hide his amber eyes from view as he brings the icy can of soda, that he’s cracked open only mere moments ago, up to his lips. 

He nearly drinks half of the sugary drink in one swig. The high degrees are making him absolutely parched, but the sugar feels nice as it clings to his front teeth in a layer so thin he can lick it right off.

The damp, salt-laced strands of chestnut enticingly hug the sharp curve of his face and stick to his forehead from the swim he’s just taken. He pushes them from his face now, using the movement as a way to release the sudden stiffness his body experiences the moment a shrill shriek of joy resonates throughout the shore. The noise is so high-pitched that it makes his ears hurt. Makes his teeth feel on edge.

Kiba narrows his eyes as he looks at you - the perpetrator that’s causing all this commotion. His bratty little stepsister. 

Listening to your little squeaks of ‘Stop!’ and ‘Put me down, Denki! Now!’ is simply unnerving, but seeing them being voiced is even worse. The sole reason Kiba has agreed to coming to the beach with his mom and her boyfriend - soon-to-be husband, is more likely - was to catch a fucking break, and yet here you are: prancing around the shore in your tiny bikini like you own the sand and the waves, conjoined at the hip with your dumbass of a boyfriend and ruining everything like you always do.

The rowdy Inuzuka sighs as he continues to lie on the fluffy towel. His taut muscles gradually slacken back into ease by the time he forces his gaze to fall down to his phone with a subdued grunt; the initial aim to do absolutely nothing but relax once again spoiled by no one other than you. 

You just had to bring that dork along, didn’t you? Had to spoil the fun.

He is irked enough as it is, but watching you get picked up and thrown over the shoulder of the idiot he’s disliked from the moment he had laid eyes on him for the first time, makes Kiba outright fume for some fucking reason. Makes his blood boil and his jaw clench so tightly that he can feel his sharp incisors gritting together.

He blames it on work. The air in the workshop has been nothing but burdensome and tense as of late, but this specific week in particular had been the worst by far. He’s worked late into the night, risen early, and has been nagged from all sides for five days in a row.

If anybody would have told him three years ago that he’d have to sift his way through enormous numbers of annoying customers that are way too stingy with their money but still want their cars fixed ASAP, he would have laughed and politely told them to kiss his ass.

Seriously - they’re that bad. Especially the fancy business folk in their eerily clean clothes and carrying their expensive suitcases, who look down on him just because of the work he tends to do. They just have to treat him like shit. Make him all pent-up with rage that he can barely control in the first place because of his inherited anger issues and short temper.

Yes, he might be 'just another' blue-collar worker amongst many, but he is also the reason why their shiny BMWs and Teslas and whatnot stupid cars are running smoothly and operating without any sort of mishaps. So fuck them. And fuck their shitty prejudice, too.

Some days, Kiba swears that he can barely resist the urge of jumping over the counter and strangling them until they’re twitching and done for. And he isn't even into those murder podcasts his ex-girlfriend liked to listen to all the time.

But not everything is all that sour, despite the Karen-like people that get on his nerves and that keep straight up assaulting him at the counter. Still rather young, and thus awfully simple-minded, Kiba really does like working as a car mechanic, he truly does. He likes working with cars and listening to the radio whilst he tends to the vehicles. Enjoys eating burgers and salty French fries from the food stand across the street during his break. Hell, he even likes the smell of gasoline and the sticky feeling the engine grease leaves on his hands. Not to mention that the pay is pretty good as well.

But as of right now, Kiba is clean of grease and smells like salt instead of potent motor oil. His standard work pants have been replaced by a pair of navy blue swimming trunks, the white t-shirt tossed to the side and his tan skin exposed to the warm sea breeze that keeps wafting by. He’s supporting himself with his elbow as he drinks the sugary Coke, knee slightly bent and phone open on a tab that shows a Reddit post that had caught his interest minutes ago but he never quite got to reading properly yet.

He’s tried to, but he's unable to concentrate on the words and their meaning.

After all, the whine you voice sounds closer this time around, and sure enough: when Kiba swiftly lifts his gaze from his phone once more like it’s an automatic response to your calls, he sees you stumbling out of the sea with a pouty frown, hair soaked and skin dewy from droplets of water that glisten in the bright sunlight. 

He likes what he's seeing only partially, though. The reason for it might just be your giddy boyfriend, who is trailing right behind your heels as you walk, holding your hand and smiling at you with this huge-ass grin that makes Kiba wish he could knock his front teeth out with his fist.

He doesn’t like looking at Denki all that much. He's loud, too happy all the freaking time, so he rather shifts his attention back to you.

Because unlike the man next to you, you're a pretty little thing to look at; nice on the eyes. Truth be told, Kiba isn’t entirely sure if calling his stepsister pretty is a weird thing to do or not, but it’s what he thinks and he can’t change what he thinks - simple as that.

He also can’t help that he thinks of your tiny bikini as a gift of sorts, nor the fact that he likes how it shows off parts of your body that he doesn’t have a chance to see that often. No, Kiba just drags his gaze all over you because it’s out of his control, because it isn’t his responsibility as he keeps scanning and burning all those pretty parts into memory for whatever reason.

Reasons he’ll surely know by tonight; inside the comforting privacy of his bedroom. As he strokes his dick in that quick-paced, needy sort of way, just like he has a tendency to do, his mind full of you and your stupid tight body he plans to leave his mark upon at least once in this lifetime.

At least once, goddammit.

He tilts his head to the side as he watches, absent-mindedly chewing on the inside of his cheek whilst acknowledging the slight bounce of your tits and how your hips sway with every step you take, all salacious-like. You walk like a tricksy feline - every step confident and so alluring - and his pupils are dilating behind the dark sunglasses; outright growing to the size of dinner plates your stepmother serves before him every night.

But Kiba isn’t a coward. Timidity just isn’t in his blood.

So he pushes the Ray-Bans up as you come closer, letting them rest on the top of his head just so that he can see you even better. And you, god fucking damn it, you smile when you plop down right next to him - even give him a cheeky little wink to top it all off. As if you know exactly what he’s thinking about. As if you’re delighted by the dirty thoughts you invoke in your stepbrother all the fucking time for years on end.

And Kiba - poor, frustrated Kiba - doesn’t realize the look that crosses his face at that exact moment. He smells the salt in your hair and the sunscreen on your skin, but he doesn’t know how his entire expression shifts into something inexplicable because of it. How his body fully stills its movement before it falls into something calm, albeit equally as menacing, as he picks himself up so that he can sit on the towel. 

Supporting himself with the flat of his palms, the twenty-three-year-old pushes his chest out like you’re pulling the very last breath from his lungs just with your mere scent alone; preparing him to inhale it for one last time before it brings him to his demise.

God, he wants to ruin you, he’s been wanting to do it for so fucking long. Right on this secluded part of the beach, until you’d both be covered in sweat and you’d be crying as he’d push your face into the grating sand and make you take it. Make you take his big, fat cock in your bed. In his bed. In his car. In the shop he works at. Anywhere, everywhere, anytime, all the time.

But instead of biting into your neck like a wild, untamed animal and making you submit like you’re some damn bitch in heat, Kiba rather sinks his teeth into the peach your father tosses in his direction out of the blue. His right hand shoots up as he catches it swiftly - honed reflexes and all - but it’s like a wake up call. It snaps him right back to reality.

He feels woozy, somewhat. Like his soul isn’t fully nestled inside his body.

“You good, son?” your father asks.

“Yeah.” Kiba blinks and licks his front teeth before he kisses them with a pucker of his lips in sheer annoyance. “M’good.” He isn’t his fucking son.

And you’re not his sister. At least not the one he can’t fuck.

Speaking of his real sister - he’s close with Hana, too. They talk over FaceTime from time to time because she’s moved across the country to finish her studies, but it’s nothing like the connection he shares with you, of course. She’s his blood and you’re not. She doesn’t leer at his firm build, at how big and strong he’s gotten over the years. Doesn’t drool over him like you do whenever he comes home dressed in his work pants; all tired and sighing, chestnut hair tousled as he’s stretching his tired limbs and tipping his head back as he waits for the food to heat up in the microwave late in the evening.

It's just too bad that you turn your head away whenever he looks and drools all over you in return.

Staring at the fruit he’s holding in his hand now, Kiba shakes his head with a sigh. He’s come from being irked, to sexually frustrated, back to being irked all over again. The harsh pat he receives to his shoulder proves to be a subtle warning from his stepfather, who seems to be the only one who has noticed how closer he’s been getting with his stepsibling over the past few years.

It takes a man to recognize the look of yearning on another man’s face, after all. The look of true, potent desire. Of something carnal.

And that look makes your daddy's protective instincts kick in. Makes him not like his stepson all that much.

To be honest, Kiba doesn’t know what your dad is so fucking worried about. They’re just accidental touches and fortuitous close proximity, it’s not like either of you are aiming to make them happen. You don’t plan to put your feet on his lap during movie nights in the living room, it just happens because you’re tired. He doesn’t scheme to rest his lingering gaze on you when you exit the shower wrapped in nothing but your towel, he just makes sure you’re fully finished so that he can go shower as well. 

You wearing his t-shirts and hoodies means nothing, and him licking the last bit of ice cream off your spoon isn’t even a thing to consider. Him jerking it off to the sounds of your pathetic, lying moans when Denki slams you on the other side of his bedroom wall doesn’t mean shit. You imagining it’s him on top of you instead of the boisterous blond is just an intrusive thought.

Kiba hates how fake you sound whenever you spread your legs for your stupid boyfriend. He could give it to you so much better, that you’d be moaning for real. He’s older; more experienced. Looks so fine that he’s drowning in pussy, but the only one he wants to pound is yours. Fuck it until you’re crying, begging him to stop. Until you’re full of his cum and he’s pushing it back in, in, in. Filling all of your little holes, making you gasp and sob.

Even his friends had noticed his lack of interest in other girls as of late. How he prefers staying home, playing house, instead of going to parties and making his mind numb with cheap liquor and bad pot like the rest of the group.

Because that way, he gets to see you prance around in your slutty little outfits during the peak of summer when it gets really hot. He gets to see your smooth legs, your nipples poking against the thin top, the way your skirt bounces when you stomp down the stairs to annoy him when he’s watching TV or playing a game. 

He is able to see your panties and how plump your cunt looks when you bend over to pick something up - the puffy lips eating up the flimsy cotton every single time. Gets to see just the mere hint of the curve of your ass when you step on your tippy-toes to reach for something on the high shelf of the cupboard and your pretty sundress rises with the movement.

And you know that he looks. You can feel his feverish gaze burning holes into your back and can hear the stifled groan he practically has to swallow down to resist voicing it into the hazy air between you. But it’s the way he readjusts himself that gets you hot; it’s the hard bulge that becomes prominent just underneath the elastic waistband of his grey Nike gym shorts that takes the cake. The way he turns right afterwards, stomps up the stairs and slams the door of his bedroom shut so angrily that the entire house shakes and his mom yells for him to get a fucking grip.

And some nights, when you’re feeling particularly daring and lonely, you even climb into his bed if he’s home just to provoke him further and give him more evidence of what a messed up slut you really are. When the hour is late, Kiba can hear the creak of his door. He feigns sleep when he feels the weight of you right next to him as the mattress dips a couple of padded footsteps later. Can hear the tired sigh as you lift his arm that’s still heavy from sleep, nuzzle your face into his chest and just breathe.

Nothing ever happens. You wake up before him on most mornings, still wrapped tightly in his embrace and leave his room in the same quiet manner you’ve entered it. And that's good, that’s proper, but some sick part of you that’s hidden so, so deep still wishes something did happen. 

Especially because you can feel the ridge of his cock poking you through his pyjama bottoms when you go to peel yourself away from him. Feel him pressing against the back of your thigh and the curve of your ass; all thick and heavy, hips slowly rolling by pure instinct in his sleep. And knowing how big he is, how hard he is just for you - his little sister - it drives you nuts. Turns you absolutely insatiable.

It feels like you’re drugged when he refuses to let you go. As that strong, muscular arm tightens its hold around your middle; thick fingers digging into your t-shirt, just mere inches away from slipping under but never quite doing so. It’s like he’s refusing to let you run away from him even in his slumber, making you outright have to force your way out of his bed before your parents could find you like this.

‘Bonding’, Tsume tends to call it. In truth, she’s just happy that the constant fights that had ensued between you during the first couple of years of sharing a household are done and over with. That the phase of her son acting up as a troublesome teenager, and her stepdaughter being a confused pre-teen just entering that point of her life is at long last finished.

But your father thinks otherwise. Sure, you might be nineteen now and Kiba is well on his way towards his mid-twenties, but he still thinks of the peace that has surprisingly settled between you as something filthy and improper. So much so, that he is even hesitant to leave you both alone to watch the bags as Tsume and Denki call after him to join them for another swim.

“It’s okay, dad. Really.” You grin, stretching out your legs on your own towel, “Kib and I will watch over the stuff. Go have fun, I think Denki wants to impress you with his swimming skills.”

It isn’t a lie at least. A truth good enough to soothe your father’s worries for a short while. You’re in public, after all.

And now - sitting completely alone with your big brother - it is your turn to leer. Staring amusedly, your own teeth find solace in chewing on your plump bottom lip as you watch the curve of his Cupid’s bow touch the ripe fruit. He opens his mouth slowly: the sharp canines he’s inherited from your stepmother puncturing the skin before it gives in and finally lets him in. 

You don’t know why on earth watching him eat a damn peach is making your stomach tighten with heat and your thoughts aimless, but you suppose that it’s something in the way his mouth moves. In the way you can see just a mere hint of his pink tongue as he laps up a droplet of nectar before it becomes too much and it overflows. 

And you just can’t help yourself, no matter how hard you try. The moment the sugar dribbles down his chin, you’re reaching forward; wiping it off of his jaw with the tip of your finger.

“Sorry,” you say. “You had a bit of peach juice there.”

“Thanks.” He doesn’t look at you when he expresses the gratitude, but he doesn’t have to. You can see the flutter of a muscle in his cheek as you swipe your thumb over the corner of his mouth. Even the cords within his neck turn stiff at the touch. 

“You’re so messy,” you continue softly, pulling your hand back after a moment too long for it to be considered fully platonic. You want to lick the damn sugar off your finger pad. Share the peach. But you do neither of those things, because you’re in public and you’ve already risked enough. Your father is close by and watching - you know he is. Just like your boyfriend.

Oh. Right… You have a boyfriend.

“Yeah, I am, aren’t I?” Kiba pushes the sunglasses back onto his eyes before taking another bite. He chews, nice and slow; fighting back the ghost of a smirk as he looks at the waves. “‘m so fuckin’ sloppy, huh?”

Sloppy. The word sounds so dirty albeit just as appealing when he says it. “Yeah…” Your spit tastes thick in your mouth now. Why does he have to be so blatant about it? So provocative? “Definitely sloppy.”

“Mhmmm.” He turns to look at you as he bites into the peach again. As he sucks the sweet juice into his mouth and grins right afterwards when he sees you looking. “Can’t help it… It is what it is, lil’ sis.”

Your heart is pounding from the desire for him to pound you. “I don’t mind.”

“I know you don’t.” 

He sounds so self-assured; so smug. Like he knows exactly what’s cooking inside your mind at that moment. Did he see the texts you’ve exchanged with your best friend about him? No, there is no way - your phone is locked and he doesn’t know the code. So, he’s probably just messing with you. Pulling you on some sick joke he finds amusing, like he always does. Just to bully you, despite the ceasefire between you.

Still, your breath hitches as you murmur, “You know?”

He perks up at the submissive tone you voice. Tips his chin down so that he can look at you above the edge of the sunglasses. He literally ogles at you now, and his eyes are just so fucking dark when they meet your own - the darkest shade you’ve ever seen him have as he says, “Yeah… I know.”

To others, the private little exchange between you and your stepbrother might seem like nothing odd at all. They’d look at you and think that the brief smile he gives you and the wide-eyed look you give him in return are nothing more but a sign of taunting teasing between two rivalrous siblings. 

But they don’t feel the tension like you two do. Don’t recognize the buzz that vibrates between you right after his smile fades and your look turns doe-eyed, and how it makes both of your faces warm and your skin riddled with flashes of sticky sweat.

They don’t know anything.

—

It unexpectedly starts to rain when you get back home from the beach. By night-time, the thunderstorm is at its peak.

And you, you’ve wound up in your big brother’s bed again the moment you’ve said goodnight to your boyfriend over the phone, but this time under the pretense that you’re scared of the thunder and lightning that cracks and whips on the dark sky that haunts you on the other side of his window. 

The glass nearly rattles from how strong the gusts of wind are. In truth, you find the weather comforting, but any excuse works if you get to sleep with your stepbrother; even if you have to deduce yourself to a role of the scared little girl because of it.

The alarm clock on his nightstand flashes 2:03 in the morning as you do your routine of lifting his arm and slipping under the thin duvet to squeeze close to him a moment after. As you entangle your limbs with his longer, stronger ones and just breathe.

You manage to get one breath in. Two. Three. By the time you finish the fourth, you’re so dazed by how good he smells that you almost fail to realize that something isn’t quite the same this time around.

But the hushed, derisive snicker your big brother lets out into the dark tells you all you need to know. 

He’s awake this time. Still a bit tipsy from the couple of beers he’s had with your dad as they watched the football game before bed - you’ve seen him head to his room with a rather droopy grin and a slurred ‘G’night, sis.’.

Which also means he’s braver now. Willing to take the risk.

“Now what’s this, mm?” Kiba’s voice is deep, the drawl lazy and seemingly nonchalant as he rests his chin on top of your head and pulls you so, so close. The alcohol that’s still feebly coursing his veins dulls out his sense of morality. Expands the limits. “Wanna tell your big brother what you’re doin’ in his bed this late at night?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you admit quietly, goosebumps forming over the skin he touches and leaves burning in his wake. “It’s storming outside.” Dread trickles down your neck as you say it. 

“Mhmm,” he hums in acknowledgement of the thundering weather outside, smiling into your hair. He loves it whenever you come to him. Loves it that he doesn’t even have to lift a finger, and you’ll come running straight into the open arms of your dear big brother. His whisper is shiver-inducing as he says, “You scared?”

“Yeah.” It’s true, you are scared. Not because of the storm, though. Rather because of him and how touchy he’s getting; tired mind intoxicated by beer and you.

“Yeah?”

God, the way he says the word is so enticingly patronizing. It nearly makes you drip from how quick the coil inside your stomach tightens with it. How fast your insides turn to mush as heat spills, especially when he bends his knee and pushes it right between your legs.

He doesn’t even give you a warning, but perhaps it’s better this way. I mean, why should he have to admit to doing dirty things to his little sister?

You gasp at the sudden pressure. Squirm as the seam of your flimsy pyjama shorts rubs against your clit as he pushes even higher up until you’re practically straddling his thigh. “H-Hey...”

His fingers tangle into your hair before he presses your face against his chest to shut you up. You can hear his steady heartbeat hammering against your ear. The sound is rhythmic, but instead of calming you, it causes you to feel all the more on edge. This isn’t what you expected. 

Yes, it is what you wanted, but are you truly ready to give into your desires? To finally admit that you’re attracted to your stepbrother? That you want to feel full with his cock, to feel the stretch, to experience his body do wonders to your own as he proves to you that all the jokes he exchanges with his stupid friends whenever they come over aren’t just talk? To cheat on your boyfriend, who you got into a relationship with just to forget about your big brother in the first place?

Kiba doesn’t care, or perhaps he doesn’t want to care enough to know the answer. No, he’s drunk and needy; hot and bothered because you’re here, in his bed, dressed in nothing but a tank top and a pair of tiny shorts. So he lets his fingers hook around the edge of your jaw as he tips it up to make eye contact. And as soon as your eyes meet his own glazed over ones, he smiles into the dark.

It’s the horniest grin you’ve ever seen. He’s so close to you that you can see his sharp teeth glint when the lightning flashes across the sky and splashes some light into his room.

“What,” he says now, his rough palm resting on your pulse point. Your heart is thudding so fast against his finger pads that he can’t help but snort. “What is it?”

Your hands press against his broad chest as you try to catch your breath and steady yourself. Curling your trembling digits, you’re grabbing hold of his t-shirt when he moves his leg to make you feel more friction against your poor cunt. The stimulation isn’t as profound as you’d like it to be over the two layers you’re hiding your pussy underneath, but it’s the fact that it comes from your goddamn stepbrother that makes it so intense.

You try to pull back, but his massive hand slaps against your leg; fingers greedily digging into the fat of your thigh as he bends it at the knee and hooks it over his hip to bring you even closer together.

“A-ah,” he chuckles darkly, applying force to keep you still. “Where d’you think you’re goin’, princess? Not planning on running off, are ya?”

No, you’re not going anywhere. He lets you know it with his actions, with the way he shows his true colours that prove how goddamn possessive an Inuzuka can become if provoked for long enough. You’ve come here completely by your own free will, after all. Have entered the beast’s den by your own choice. He didn’t make you do it.

He didn’t make you wear those skimpy outfits around him. Didn’t force you to smile all coy-like and flutter your eyelashes whenever he’s around. Didn’t coax you into bending over and just teasing the fuck out of him for literal years.

But he is going to make you do other things now. Filthy, nasty things.

And he is going to make you stay until you’re too fucked-out to even pick yourself up from his bed. Until you’re too tired to walk all the way to your room. Too exhausted to tell on him to your father, who had felt bad for judging him so quickly back at the beach, and thus had spent some quality father-son bonding time by drinking some beers and watching the football game Kiba couldn’t give two shits about.

“Kiba,” you whisper your brother’s name, biting back a quiet whimper when his hand trails up and hikes the hem of your shorts up. As quick as the touch is, he pulls back to sneer down at you just as fast. You’re about to let out a sigh of relief, but all that comes out of your mouth instead is a hushed squeal when he smacks your ass and squeezes the plush flesh - all hard and impatient and so potently male, that it makes your eyes blow wide-open up at him in pure shock.

The pang of ache that shoots through you makes your voice shake as you whisper-shout, “St-Stop that!”

“What’re you gonna do if I don’t?” he questions, voice all smug and mean. “Gonna tell on me to your daddy? Gonna tell him how your big brother smacked your ass because you kept sneaking into his room whenever your pussy got wet?”

“I-I’m gonna tell Denki! And I’m not-... I’m not, fuck…!” You can’t believe the disgusting words that are coming out of his mouth. Aren’t sure if it’s the alcohol talking through him, or if he really is that sick of a bastard underneath all that fierce, warm persona that convinced you to bury the hatchet in the first place.

He must be, because now he smacks your ass for a second time. Makes it burn with an ache you’ve never experienced before, and makes you thankful for the raging thunderstorm outside that dulls out the noise it causes. Because if your parents found you like this… You’d be a goner. Disowned by the family - the both of you.

“What’s that dunce gonna do, huh? He can’t even fuck you right… Can’t even make you cum properly.” He laughs now; a huffed, mocking sort of sound as he looks at you, all complacent. “You think I can’t hear those fake moans you keep lettin’ out whenever he swings by? You sound worse than the whores on my PC. But you’re not a whore, are you? You’re nice and tidy, good in school, never late to cheerleading practice. A proper good girl that wants to cum just as properly, but can’t because her idiot boyfriend doesn’t know how to make her cum.”

You’re speechless. Absolutely numb from the fever that’s overtaking your body as he pushes his weight against you and makes you lay flat on your back. Your legs are still wrapped around his waist when his hand finds your throat. He gives it a firm squeeze as he talks. Makes you close your eyes shut as you try to inhale a shallow breath.

You can’t focus; he’s just so hard as he rubs himself against you. When he leans in, the heat of his body is so intense that it nearly makes your skin sizzle as his cock languidly rubs against your clothed pussy. It makes your hole clench around nothing. Makes your walls flutter with the demand of being stroked.

“I can, though. I know how to make a good girl like you cum. And it’s what you want, isn’t it? Your mean brother’s cock in that little cunt of yours, stretching you out… Makin’ you spill everything you’ve got, before he does the same.” He’s so close to you that the narrow space between your bodies is nearly non-existent. He’s big; massive. He covers your smaller frame entirely whilst on top of you, shoulders broad and tense as they flex above you before he dips in to press his mouth almost against your own.

The proximity makes you feral. You angle your head to reach him better, but all he does is smirk as the tip of your nose touches his own.

“Aww, you wanna kiss me, now? What on earth happened to ‘stop’?” The snicker he lets out when you try to kiss him is so taunting that it makes your head spin with hurt. Especially as he releases your throat to pat your cheek roughly. “Tell you what, I’ll kiss you if you suck my cock first. How does that sound?”

Your breath hitches in the back of your throat at how inexplicably lewd he’s getting. Does he really want that? His little sister’s mouth around his dick; sucking, drooling, pleasuring? Or is he just messing with you again, trying to force a reaction out of you just for the fun of it? 

You need to ask him. Need to know. “Are you serious right now? You really want me to… To…”

“Mhmm.” He nearly purrs as he hums, his voice so quiet that it sends electricity buzzing right through your brain. “And if you do a good enough job, I’ll lick you in return, too.” He leans into your ear, his warm exhale brushing your earlobe as he adds, “I’ll lick you all over, sis. I promise.”

Your big brother is a bully when he shows the side of him you’ve forgotten he owned over the years of faux peace. He’s exactly what he was when you were younger and hating each other: manipulative, mean, a pain in the ass, but now with the addition of being fucking hot. So fucking hot, in fact, that you become aroused as he looks down at you and sneers at the dumbfounded expression that crosses your face, all smug and egocentric-like. Especially when his large hands wrap around your hips and his thumbs slip underneath the waistband of your shorts.

“Or, y’know,” he says, a suggestive lilt to his voice as he starts tugging at the fabric, “we could save up on time and do both at once?” 

“Both at… Once?”

“You deaf or something?” He sighs at the dazed expression you portray and clicks his tongue against his teeth, “Tsch. I want you to sit on my face, dummy.”

Oh, lord. He talks about it like he’s scheduling a meeting with his clumsy assistant, and not the possibility of doing 69 with his stepsibling.

But it’s thrilling in a way. How confident he is in himself and how unashamed he is about what he wants. Your voice is merely a squeak of approval because of it as you say, “Well, o-okay.”

You don't even try to fight it.

Kiba grins. He’s perfect when he smiles, he always is. “Good girl. Now let’s get you naked before I lose my fuckin’ patience. Wanna taste you on my tongue already... I've waited for ages.”

Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.

He works quickly, showing you no respect whatsoever as he changes his mind and takes off your shirt first. Your tank top hasn’t even hit the floor yet and his hand is already exploring your bare chest; calloused fingertips flicking and pinching your nipples before dipping down to trace the curve of your breasts.

He chuckles at the way your chest heaves with the touch, mind buzzing with improper thoughts from seeing your upper half naked for the very first time. He’s staring down at your tits all hungry, like a wild animal of sorts. Making you insecure and self-conscious about your appearance.

Your cheek presses into the pillow that smells just like him as you attempt to hide yourself. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Fuck no.” His voice becomes deeper as he refuses your plea, breathing turning slightly shallower, “I’m looking ‘cause you’re hot as fuck, princess. Your loser boyfriend is one lucky man for getting to see this all the time, so quit whining.”

Something inside you lights up at the praise that he’s hidden underneath all the meanness, but you’re simply too dazed to think about your lovely boyfriend you’re cheating on and that he insists on mentioning to make you feel bad. Too overwhelmed from the way he begins to kiss your collarbone before moving even lower.

He has to cover your mouth when you start to whimper as soon as his tongue swirls around your nipple and he sucks it into his mouth. He suckles on it, all warm and skilled, making you arch your back and find purchase in his hair with your trembling fingers as your whimpers turn into muffled moans behind his palm. 

And he - he groans when you run your digits along his scalp and tug on the chestnut strands with intricate fervour. The sound that leaves his throat is so masculine and deep that it makes your chest vibrate as he latches his mouth to you again and sucks even harder in response. Every single time his incisor pokes the sensitive bud, your pussy clenches around nothing. It’s pure torture.

You’re unable to think straight. All you can think about is him. Him, him, him. And because of it, you simply let him do what he wants. You allow him to manhandle you into the 69 position with those rough hands of his, tossing and turning you like you’re a toy of sorts until you find yourself on top of him; body completely bare and cunt exposed right above his face.

He laughs, now. “You’re drippin’.”

He says it like it’s a bad thing - in that mocking, derisive sort of tone that he’s an expert at using around you. It makes your waterline sting with tears of embarrassment as your hands rest on the hardness hiding underneath his sweatpants. “I-I’m sorry.” Fuck, he’s so big. You’re scared to pull it out.

“Why?” His finger traces your wet slit as you try to free him from the confines of his clothes, despite your jittery nerves telling you no. The squelching sounds from how wet you are, are so indecent that you’re barely able to focus on what you’re doing.

Your face is burning up and you feel dizzy from all the dirty things he’s doing to you. From how he’s spreading your slick all over your puffy pussy and making sure you hear how fucking wet you are for him. “For… Nnh, for being like this.”

“You’re sorry for being filthy?” He pauses for a second before he snickers at the way you jump when he presses his thumb against your clit and rubs it. “For getting drenched for your big brother?”

“Yes, I’m sorry for all of that. Ah, s-so sorry, Kib…!” Your legs are trembling and you’re turning into a panting mess from how he touches you now. Especially when you feel him press a gentle kiss to your inner thigh. 

“It’s all right,” Kiba says. “I’m just as fucked in the head as you are. No need to cry ‘bout it.”

Your eyes are squeezing shut, a silent ‘Fuck!’ leaving your lips when his mouth makes contact with your soft cunt a moment afterwards. As his warm tongue laps up the sugary slick and you’re sent burying your face into the bulge you’ve never succeeded in pulling free, now in a weak attempt to fight back the most animalistic moan you’ve ever managed to produce.

You try to pay him back with clumsy groping and eager fondling. Try to concentrate on pleasuring the hardness that must certainly ache by now, despite that his hands are wrapping around your hips and he’s pushing you down; making your thighs tremble and your legs turn to jelly as his tongue starts prodding at your sopping hole.

But you simply can’t concentrate. Can’t focus enough to give him a proper blowjob when you finally do manage to pull his cock free from his sweatpants and boxers. And Christ, he’s so big. Throbbing, hot and so hard. All for you - his little stepsister. You can feel every vein as you drag your tongue along his length. As you grab him with both dainty hands and wrap your mouth around the sensitive head.

You can feel his fingers tighten around your hips by the time the salt of his pre-cum finishes melting on your tongue. You know damn well that he wants to say something bitchy and be a smartass about you taking so damn long to do it, but you just take him deeper down your throat to shut him up. Suck him harder.

And the feral groan he lets out right afterwards is like a reward. You relish the little whimper he voices when you start to pump and drool all over his dick, coating every inch with glimmering saliva. When you begin to suck him like a proper slut.

Time passes. What started with meek kitten licks has now turned into a full whorish blowjob, and you just know that he’s loving it. So much, in fact, that he’s quiet and keeps his witty remarks all to himself. It’s a blessing of sorts.

You’re nearly shuddering above him from how good he is at spoiling your clit. How every laggard swipe of his tongue feels like you’re touching heaven. He’s teasing you, not allowing you to cum; constantly keeping you leaning over the edge, but never quite tipping over. It’s like he knows when you’re close. Knows when to slow down his pace just enough to keep you there without going all the way.

You wonder why, wonder why he isn’t letting you erupt into pure bliss when he’s so good. And the answer is simple:

He wants you to cum on his cock the first time around.

So when minutes pass and he’s had enough, and you’re slobbering all over his dick; lazily sucking on it with slow movements of up and down and tasting him all over, he pushes you off with the lewdest ‘pop!’ and makes you roll onto your back and bend your knees until you’re lying down with both of your legs propped on top of his shoulders.

You’re wide-eyed as you stare up at him, trying to catch your breath. He’s so messy, your arousal coats his chin and mouth as he pants, t-shirt clinging to his torso, sweatpants just barely clinging to his hips, hair all askew and wild. He’s got one hand wrapped around your ankle, the other on your thigh.

You try not to let out a sound when he applies force to make you slide down the mattress so that he can pull you closer, but a tiny gasp still slips the moment he aligns himself with you. 

“Enough of that,” he mumbles, expression stern, “I wanna fuck now.”

“Fu-Fuck…?”

“Yeah.” He squeezes your cheeks - his palm nearly larger than your face - and makes your lips purse. “Focus, airhead. What did you think would happen?”

What a savage brute. He hasn’t even fingered you properly yet and he wants to fuck? How the hell are you supposed to stretch wide enough to accept that enormous cock of his? Better yet, how are you supposed to handle it moving in and out of you?

“Condom,” you whisper dazedly, fingers curling around the bed sheet as you try to lift yourself up with the help of your elbows. “We need a condom. I’m not on-”

“It’s okay, I’ll pull out.” He presses his hand to your chest to push you back down on the mattress. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“Kiba, I don’t think-”

“Shut up.” You blink profusely at the sudden demand, pouty mouth quivering as he makes your legs bend even further when he leans in and presses his hand right next to your head. He kisses your calf, your ankle. “I’m your big brother… If I wanna fuck you raw, you should fuckin’ let me.”

You can feel him nudging your tight hole. Feel how wet, drenched and sticky everything is. How much it arouses you. And yet, you still try to put up a fight, despite that your toes are curling, “Kiba, I-I-...”

“Let me fucking in, y/n,” he says. “I mean, it’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”

Are you? You have no other choice. He’s just too good at reading you. So you do what he asks of you - what he demands of you. 

You let him in.

And he laughs - laughs this awful, manipulative sort of snicker as he feels your soft cunt gush milky slick and suck him in. As he relishes yet another win, because he’s older, stronger; prevalent. The superior sibling that could turn your life into living hell if he wanted to.

“You’re so fucked up,” he whispers as he lets your legs slip from his shoulders to his waist so that he can rest his forehead against your own. He’s staring into your eyes, boring right into your very soul with that swirling amber as he adds quietly, “You’ll do anything just to get fucked by your big brother, huh?”

“Kiba, s-stop it.” You whine when he pushes in deeper; as he makes you burn in the middle from how he’s splitting you open. “Just… Stop.”

“What if your daddy hears? Hears you moaning like a lil’ slut ‘cause of me?” His pupils are so big, but you can’t keep looking at him because of how much it hurts from the way he sinks into your warmth and bottoms out. From how overwhelming it is as he stays firmly in place, making you take it. “I mean, shit, I’m not scared of him. But I know you are. He thinks you’re this godsend of a daughter, when in reality you’re just as dirty as me.”

“Stop talking…!” Your eyes burn with tears as you glare up at him. You don’t know if it’s because of the pleasure you feel as he stretches you out, or because of how badly he hurts you with his words.

“He’d be so disappointed in you if he saw you like this. Your boyfriend, too,” he continues, paying no mind to the way you start to squirm underneath him. “But that’s fine, right? The only thing that matters is that I approve of you. Even though it turns you into a cheating whore, hah.”

He forces you to look at him the same moment you try to turn away because of the guilt to flash throughout you. His hand finds your cheek, fingers digging deep into the soft flesh. You’re trying to fight against him, and you’re ashamed to admit it, but your heart flutters when he kisses you. When he forces his tongue inside your mouth so deep that you can taste yourself and you fall into this wonderfully submissive stillness in mere seconds. 

He’s looking down at you now, the corners of his lips twitching from how into it you are, feeling his chest swelling up with pride and arrogance. He’s toxic, Kiba knows it, but he just can’t stop pouring his frustrations upon you that have gathered over the years. You’re like his personal punching bag. You’ll take anything he throws at you just because it’s from him.

“Feels good?” he whispers as he pulls back to kiss your neck. To trace his tongue all over your pulse point before sucking on it lightly. He’s promised that he’ll lick you all over, after all. Even if it leaves marks.

“Mhmmm,” you manage, completely out of breath from the way he slowly draws his hips back just to pummel them back into you even harder than before. It’s just missionary, the position rather vanilla, but it’s fucked up because you can see his face during it. You can kiss him and see all of him - your stepbrother.

And he feels just so heavy inside you. So thick and hot that it makes you incapable of speaking coherently. He’s got this dazed look on his face, the one only a warm cunt can give to a man, and you’re feeling absolutely obsessed because of it. Absolutely feral. 

“I wanna fuck you until you can’t stand properly, princess,” he says quietly. “Until that cute pussy of yours is hurting so bad that you’re walkin’ funny and you can’t sit like a normal person during dinner. I want your dad looking weird at you. I want your stupid boyfriend getting suspicious of us.”

“No… K-Kiba...”

“I want that dunce to smell me on you the next time he fucks you.” His thrusts are getting harsher as he keeps whispering the most outrageous things into your panting mouth, fighting back a smile at the way you’re beginning to claw at his t-shirt in protest.

“No!”

“Yes. I want him to know your stepbrother fucks you better than him.”

You want to moan, to scream - do anything to release this pent-up fire within your veins, but he keeps you quiet by kissing you deep every single time you try to make a sound.

More time passes. He never stops or goes easy on you during it.

Both of your bodies are drenched in sweat. His thrusts are getting jerky, irregular. He’s been fucking you for nearly an hour, changing positions, melting his body into your own, reaching deeper than anyone ever has before. 

And you feel so bad inside your mind for letting him do all of this, but your body feels twice as good as he does it. You’re burning up, all warm and tingly, toes curling, every cell absolutely spent as you keep clenching around him and leaking milky slick. 

The first orgasm that he pulled out of you made you see stars. The second had made your jaw slacken as he fucked you from behind so hard you became one with the mattress and lost yourself, until he had to pat your cheek to bring you back to him.

By the third climax, you’re so, so tired. And he knows it, but he still makes you take more. Makes you take him entirely as he looks up at you and flashes you the most charming smile, even though he’s forcing you to ride him. Every muscle within your legs burns whilst you’re bouncing up and down his cock, but you try to endure the ache just so that he’ll be happy with you.

And you can tell that he’s close. His upper lip keeps quivering slightly and his dick is throbbing inside you; you swear that you can feel it getting hotter as it keeps stroking your sensitive walls.

It’s time you slipped off of his lap. Went down on him and swallowed every last droplet of cum he’ll give you.

Except that he doesn’t let you do that.

“Did I tell you to stop?” His hands find purchase on your hips when you try to pull back. He gives them a squeeze. Makes you keep bouncing as he gives you that same mischievous smile from before. 

You’re growing nervous. The nerves make your muscles clench, thus making him groan in delight. “K-Kiba, you’re gonna-”

“Yeah… I changed my mind.” He looks at you, eyes dark. “Imma fill you up, pretty.” 

His statement makes your mouth dry. What?!

“You can’t,” you cry out the moment realization hits, voice all hushed and petrified. “Y-You can’t, I’m not on the pill, Kiba. You can’t…!”

“Shh, I’ll drive you to the pharmacy first thing in the morning, yeah? I promise. Now keep quiet.”

“No, no, no, I-”

He uses force when you try slipping off of him, taking advantage of his strength to overpower you as he grips your hips and pushes you back into the mattress. You’re attempting to get away from him so feverishly now, trying to push him back by pressing your hands against his jaw and cheek, but he just won’t budge. He just grabs a hold of your wrists with one hand, clamps your mouth shut with the other.

“You’re gonna be a good little sister and take the load your brother gives you, ‘kay?” He’s nearly delirious from how good your pussy feels as it tightens around him and tries to milk him dry as he pushes in so deep he bullies your womb. “Mm, see? You’re cumming just thinkin’ ‘bout it, hah… You want my kids, or somethin’? Want me to breed you? Imagine how fucked up that would be… Hah.”

“N-No, m’not… Kiba! Kiba, please, I-...! I can’t-”

“Stop… Telling me… What I can and can’t… Do. For fuck’s sake, shut up.”

He doesn’t listen. What he does, though, is let out that delightful sigh as he uses you as his very own cocksleeve and forces you to bring him to his finish by pushing you up and down his dick. He rolls his eyes back and grunts in the same way your boyfriend has a habit of doing as he forces those thrusts out and tips over the edge. As he groans the sickest of profanities and feels his balls tighten until he’s finally done; filling you up to the brim, coating you entirely white with his thick, warm seed even though you’ve told him not to.

It makes it all the sweeter just because of that reason alone.

And you’re trembling underneath him, eyes closed as your own orgasm hits you. As you feel your tummy clench along with your walls, accepting every drop his cock gives you as it keeps twitching inside you. And he can’t stop moving. He’s lazily pushing it all in, pushing his cum even deeper like he actually wants you to get pregnant with his kid - his hand hard on your cheek and his mouth panting right against your neck.

“So good, fuck… You’re so good. We gotta get our parents to separate so that I can show you off.”

But the moment he lets you go and slips out of you, you’re pushing him away. Tears turn you bleary-eyed as you grab your clothes and put them on as hastily as you can, despite that your entire body is aching and screaming in protest. Despite that you're stumbling to the door with shaky legs and leaking his goddamn cum.

“Leaving so soon?” He’s smiling as he rubs at his eye, running a tired hand through his damp hair. “No cuddles?”

“Fuck you,” you say, sniffling and choking back the tears as you pull on your underwear.

He snorts, the sound derisive. Smug. “You just did.”

“I hate you.”

“Sure you do. So much that you came just now, right?”

He never gets to hear your answer. You’re out of his room before you can jump him and claw his fucking eyes out.

—

The only promise Kiba has kept so far is the pharmacy one.

His eyes are hidden behind the sleek sunglasses once more as he waits for you in front of the building that Saturday morning. He’s got one ankle leisurely crossed over the other whilst he stands; leaning against the hood of his car and smoking a cigarette that you hate the smell of.

Approaching him like this makes you feel like the whole thing never even happened at all. Some part of you thinks you’ve just imagined it all, but the soreness you feel all over your body tells you otherwise. As well as the morning-after pill you take right in front of him so that he’s satisfied.

“What’s this?” He yanks the small paper bag from your hands and pushes you away when you try to grab it back from him. 

“I-It’s nothing. Hey, give that back!”

Kiba chuckles when he opens the bag and sees the box of protection you’ve bought along with the pill before he shoves it back into your arms. “You wanna tell me somethin’, sis?” You want more?

Heat engulfs your face as you hang your head and drop your gaze to the ground. “No.” Yes.

“Aha... Fine with me.” He takes one last drag of the cigarette before tossing it with a flick of his fingers. “Wanna get some ice cream? I’m off work today.”

“No.”

“C’mon.”

“No.”

“C’mooon, I’ll pay.”

Silence meets him. And then a meek, “... Fine.”

Kiba’s grin is so big it takes up half of his face as he ruffles your hair. “Good girl. Tell you what, I'll let you get any topping you want if you let me bend you over your desk tonight.”

And you know it’s fucked up, but your big brother's approval just makes you tingle all over again as you give him a curt nod.

#kiba x reader #kiba inuzuka #kiba smut #kiba x you #kiba x y/n #naruto smut

[girlfailure-smut-hour]

Unexpected Meeting With Thirteen

Nsfw content MDNI

CW: NSFW, Smut, Fem!Reader (Breasts and "Good girl," but GN genitals,) Thirteen X Reader, Oral (receiving and giving), Fingering (Receiving), Hair pulling, Very raunchy and a little rough.

A/N: My shortest so far, but it's basically all sex lol. Thirteen interrupts you while you while you're getting ready for a meeting. Way dirtier and rougher than my other stuff, but I think it fits her. I think she would be mean to me and I'd like it. <3 ~1600 words.

Please check out my fic masterlist <3

You're a little late, frantically running around your room trying to get ready. You have an important meeting coming up that you really can't miss.

As you're picking out the clothes you want to change into, you hear a knock at the door. Great, he's coming to collect me, you think. Can't I just get a second? Before you can even get to the door it swings open and Thirteen walks through.

"Oh," you say. "Thirteen. What are you doing here?" You're trying to keep your cool as this reaper has burst into your room while you're already stressed about being late. Of all the times she could have come by.

She casually runs a slender finger over some of your possessions as she walks past. "Just thought I'd check in on you," she says, aloof. She's tapping her long nails against some glassware, making a pleasant tink sound.

"Well I'm kinda busy," you say. "I’m running late and I've got a meeting wi-"

"With one of the brothers?" She cuts you off. She rolls her eyes dramatically.

"Yeah," you say, defeated.

"It's always them with you," she grumbles, taking a few steps closer to you. Your voice catches in your throat as she comes mere inches from your face. She smells so sweet. "Tell me, which one of them has taken your fancy?"

"I'm just doing my job," you scoff, turning away from her. She turns your head gently with one long nail. You gulp when you meet her eyes. Shivers run down your spine as she casts her intimidating gaze on you. Excitement or nerves? Your heart is pounding and you're not quite sure what to think.

"Wouldn't you rather a woman's touch?" She asks as she presses her soft, bare thigh up against your crotch. You gasp and tense up as her plush skin squishes up against you, feeling a sudden excitement surge down there. You blush and look away.

"I'm not sure what you mean," You reply, but secretly hoping she continues.

"Look at me," she says, taking your chin in her hand and turning your head again. With her other hand she reaches down to your crotch and runs her slender fingers across it, her nails scratching the fabric as she does. You moan a little and she smiles. She knows it's over now, and you'll be putty in her hands.

"But what about my meeting?" You ask through heavy breaths.

“It can wait,” She says, running another finger down your chest.

“What if he comes looking for me?”

“Let him look,” She replies as her finger reaches your pants.

“He might hear,” You moan.

“Let him hear,” she says, kissing you neck as she gently rubs you with her hand through your pants.

She licks from your neck to your lips, wrapping you up in sloppy kisses with forceful tongue. She runs her fingers through your hair, grabbing and tugging it occasionally which gets even more moans out of you. There’s a frenzied intensity to her every touch. She just grins in satisfaction as you give her what she wants. Suddenly, she pushes you down onto your knees, still holding you by your hair. You’re face to face with her skirt now.

“Pull my panties down,” She demands. As you start to reach up under her skirt, she barks “Not with your hands.”

You bite the fabric of her panties and start to pull them down. You can feel the hot dampness of the fabric already. “Good girl,” she says, swirling her fingers through your hair. You get chills from the feeling of her nails on your scalp.

When her panties fall down to her ankles, she says “Stick out your tongue.” As you do, she pulls your face to her pussy, and starts to grind her clit against your tongue. She’s drenched down there already as she clutches your hair even harder to press your face against her crotch. She’s moaning loudly as she grinds her hips against you in dramatically sexy gyrations.

As you start to get into it, you move your tongue and she moans even louder. Desperately clutching her thighs, you wrap your hands around her legs to brace yourself. Your tongue slides between her folds as her soft thighs rub and squeeze your cheeks. You can feel arousal swelling up in your hips. Her pubis is grinding into your nose, and all you can taste and smell is her. She’s making such cute sounds already.

“Good girl,” she moans again. “You’re doing sooo good.” She’s getting louder and higher. “Keep going. You’re doing so good.” As she praises you, you lick her clit faster. She moans your name until suddenly she quivers and convulses as warm sweetness spills out over your tongue and chin.

Her legs are shaking as she lets your hair go and looks down at you with a wicked grin. “Your turn” she says, gripping your collar and pulling you up to your feet. She pushes you up against a wall and starts planting kisses all over your wet face, almost feral in her excitement. She’s running her hands all through your hair and clasping your cheeks as she runs her tongue over you. You can't hope to keep up, so you just continue to give her the soft little involuntary moans she's looking for. Wrapping your hair in her hands, she jerks your head back and starts to kiss your neck. She sucks on your skin leaving little lipstick marks and hickeys for the world to see.

Suddenly she pulls away and turns you around, pressing your face against the wall. She unbuttons your top and expertly removes your bra as she plants little desperate kisses on your neck. She grabs your breasts from behind as she kisses your back. You don’t even have time to get shivers as she rubs and kisses all over you. It’s nearly too much, but you can’t tell her to stop. Would she even listen anyway? She’s rubbing your nipples with one hand as she moves her way to your pants with the other. After unbuttoning your pants, she flips you around, biting her lip as she looks you up and down.

She gets down to her knees and pulls your panties down. Now she’s taking a more delicate approach, gently kissing your hip bones, each little kiss shooting a jolt of electricity through your spine. She looks up at you as she runs her fingernails up and down your back.

She takes her time down there, kissing your legs and tummy and gently scratching up and down your body with her long nails. She spreads your legs to get to your inner thighs. As she licks there, you can feel her face occasionally brush up against your genitals, causing you to throb in excitement.

She can tell that you're more than ready so she takes more time to tease you instead. She's licking your inner thigh, scratching up and down your legs, gently brushing your pleading and desperate parts with her face. Each second feels like an eternity.

Without warning she brings her lips down. There's an explosion of pleasure, almost orgasmic in its intensity. You're grinding and gyrating your hips as she goes down on you, but she just looks up at you with her serpentine eyes. There's a sense of lofty arrogance in them like she's trying to say I know you won't last long, but that's okay. She might be right too. She twirls her tongue around and licks back and forth, making sure to leave no part untouched. You're already bucking your hips wildly, and you can tell you’re close.

She pulls away and says "Not yet. Good girls last a little longer."

You groan in protest. She takes her two first fingers and licks them up and down with seductive eye contact. Of all her nails, she's kept these two short for this very reason. Using her fingers she gives you a few gently teasing strokes of your hole, before pushing them in. You moan loudly as she curls her fingers toward your belly button, repeatedly rubbing your G-spot.

She presses her mouth back down to your genitals as she continues her skilled finger movements inside of you. The two sensations are almost too much to bear. You're moaning louder now, and you're sure it can be heard in nearby rooms and the hallway, but there's no controlling yourself; not with her. You think you may hear footsteps outside, but it's impossible to concentrate while she's running her tongue so skillfully over you. You can hardly think about anything at all as you get closer.

She can feel it in the way you clamp down on her fingers. You're right on the edge and absolutely shrieking in pleasure at this point. A few more strokes of her tongue set you over the edge and you release your warmth all over her tongue. She moans and giggles as you throb and convulse all over her.

Your knees are shaking and you can barely hold yourself up, even with your back against the wall. You slide down onto your butt and sigh heavily, trying to catch your breath.

"Good girl," Thirteen coos.

"That was so good," you say, barely able to form words. "I've never felt anything like that."

She grins and climbs into your lap, arms wrapped around your neck. "That good, huh? Well I guess we'll have to do it again." Clasping your cheeks, she gives you a long, deep kiss before getting up. "Don't forget your meeting." She winks at you as she wipes her wet face and walks out the door, leaving you a crumpled mess of pleasure on the floor.

#Thirteen smut #obey me smut #obey me shall we date #omswd #omswd smut #thirteen x reader #obey me thirteen #obey me x reader #om thirteen #obey me

[traumxrei-archive]

【 epilogue : winter’s aftermath 】

summary tags: the end of winter break (+ this series), pov: everyone’s reactions to leonayuu being leonayuu, ruggie is having a great time, jack doesn’t get it, crowley's sobbing, grim expects more fancy tuna, and cheka’s just a sweetheart <33

word count: 3.6k

author’s note: here’s the epilogue ^^ i hope that you enjoy the last fluffy bits of this series, and happy birthday to leona kingscholar <33

[ baby it’s cold outside series | read on ao3 ]

i. ruggie and jack

The days that preluded the end of winter break was filled with hustle and bustle. Many of NRC’s students were frantically packing last minute, and saying heartfelt goodbyes to their families as the new semester approached.

Ruggie, for one, was trying to figure out how he was going to lug all of his luggage back to Savanaclaw. His Bibi meant well, but she could be a bit of a worrywart. What started out as a few herbal medicine ingredients soon turned into many, and she insisted that he should share with his friends if they ever needed it.

“I doubt that they’d drink any of that stuff I give them, Bibi,” Ruggie said, casting a levitation spell over his luggage and stringing it down main street.

“Ruggie-senpai!” Jack called out. He was decked out in full winter gear, a messily knitted scarf wrapped around his neck. Ruggie snorted, waiting for his junior to catch up.

“You just got back?” Ruggie asked, tugging at the end of Jack’s scarf. “And what’s this?”

“Oh, uh,” Jack’s ears twitched, clearly embarrassed. “My sister made it for me. It’s actually pretty warm. Have you gone to visit Leona-senpai yet?”

“Nope,” He popped the ‘p’, shedding his jacket as they entered the Savanaclaw mirror. “I am not looking forward to how messy his room is gonna be.”

Jack unwrapped his scarf, gently placing it in his bag, “Yuu told me that they were doing Leona a favor or something, so maybe it’ll be okay.”

Ruggie blinked. Yuu and Leona spending winter together…? Well if that didn’t sound like a recipe for disaster, then he didn’t know what would. He quickly dumped his bags in his room, taking the quickest route to Leona’s room.

“Are you worried?” Jack asked, having followed behind him.

“About Yuu-kun more than anything,” Ruggie muttered as he reached for the door. “You know how Leona-san can be sometimes.”

The door creaked open, and the two were greeted with…Leona sitting on the couch while Yuu was mid-stride seemingly pacing around the room.

“Oh, hi,” Yuu greeted. Their posture betrayed their awkwardness more than anything that was actually was going on.

“Hi Yuu,” Jack said, leaning against the doorway. “What are you doing here so early?”

“I, uh,” They glanced down at Leona, who raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Leona tried to cheat his way out of doing one of the worksheets so I came back to scold him.” And that was when Ruggie noticed something off.

He glanced around the room. It was…neat. Neater than he had seen it for ages. Heck, even the bed was nicely made. And in the corner he spotted what looked like Yuu’s bag sitting right in front of Leona’s closet. Not to mention…

“C’mon, herbivore,” Leona drawled, spinning the pen in his hand. “Don’t worry your pretty little head over a single worksheet.” Leona didn’t look the slightest bit annoyed at being up early with a worksheet right in front of him. Instead, he was just focused on them, barely looking over at him or Jack.

“Leona-senpai, Yuu’s heating and cooling depends on this,” Jack said, and Ruggie could see the twitch of Leona’s brow clear as day. Uh oh. “Cut them some slack.”

Something had changed. Ruggie could hazard a guess, but he did not want to stick around and face the wrath of Leona’s anger this early in the morning.

“Listen here, pup,” Leona said, irritation in his tone. “Winter break ends in two days. I’ll get it done by then.” Jack, on the other hand, seemed confused at the sudden hostility.

That was when Yuu stepped in, "You said you'd finish early so we could go to the botanical garden." Miraculously, Leona leaned back, throwing an arm over his eyes.

"Everything's too loud today," The gripe was halfhearted, and Ruggie's jaw could've dislocated from how low it was dropping. The Leona Kingscholar...calming down just like that?

Yuu carefully sat down beside him, "Then why don't we go to Ramshackle, your Highness?"

"Don't call me that," Leona huffed, though Ruggie didn't miss the way his tail instantly wrapped around their leg.

"You said you liked it," They teased, before turning to them again. "How was you guys' winter breaks?”

Leona seemed to frown as they started conversing with Jack. And Ruggie..well, he prided himself on being able to read the room, so he very promptly turned around, shoving Jack out of the room.

"Wh– Ruggie-senpai–"

"Ah, sorry, Yuu-kun!" Ruggie called out. "I forgot I have something to do with Jack-kun, talk to you next time!” Jack didn’t know just how close he was to getting sent to do lap.

And Ruggie couldn’t bite back the grin on his face either. Now he had a cheat card to dealing with Leona’s bullshit. He made a mental note to give Yuu some of the herbal medicine that his Bibi gave him, because Seven knows that they would need it.

ii. crowley

Crowley was having quite the headache of a day. It came with running the school single-handedly, he supposed, and he almost mourned the loss of sandy beaches and the cold drinks that he had savored just the day before.

Alas the show must go on. He was the illustrious headmage of NRC after all!

And he was on a mission to find his favorite student. He wasn’t supposed to play favorites, but he found himself particularly endeared to the Ramshackle Prefect, Yuu. They were a good kid, better than the other troublemakers at the college.

So he often found ways to give them things, such as the phone that he conveniently gave them before winter break. (For communication purposes only. Definitely not because he was worried or anything.) Or the task he gave them before winter started. (He knew how dreary Ramshackle got, so the school’s heath would give them the warmth they needed.)

“Ah, there you are!” He exclaimed, finally finding Yuu amongst the shelves at Sam’s Store. “I was looking everywhere for you, Prefect!”

Yuu was dressed well for the cold weather, and he could see they were wearing the gifts that the other staff members gave them, “Headmage. How was your vacation?”

“Oh, it was wonderful, the beaches were— wait that’s not what I’m here for!” Crowley coughed into his hand, a bit flustered. They were the only student out here that was polite enough to ask him such questions. “I just wanted to congratulate you on the completion of your tasks! The fairies were buzzing about your timeliness.”

“Oh, uhm,” They awkwardly shuffled around the snacks in their arms. They always got like that when he complimented them a bit too eagerly. “Thanks I guess. And our heating and cooling?”

“Oh,” Crowley blinked, remembering the empty words he spouted before winter break. He didn’t think they would really take it to heart. “The fairies are more than happy to help out to make Ramshackle more hospitable, so I shall send them over soon. And you’ve outdone yourself with your other task, so don’t hesitate to ask for something else.”

“Hey, hey! Little imp and Crowley!” Sam greeted, ever the jovial. “What an interesting combo! Crowley, did you finally get them your gift?”

“Gift?” They asked, staring with what Crowley would say was just a little bit of hope. Argh. His conscience was hurt.

“I should have given this to you before winter but,” Crowley laughed nervously. “I was just…so busy with the mirror business—“

“Crowley was wailing to us in the teacher’s chat about how ‘his child would freeze without his gift’ and what not,” Sam said conspiratorially.

“I-I was not!” Crowley sputtered, finally pulling out the small gift. “There. Please use it well.”

Yuu opened the small box, a smile spliting on their face, “Are these…socks?” They were, indeed, socks. Not just any socks, the best thermal socks on the market. With the NRC logo on it. But they didn’t need to know that part.

“Yes, well, a good pair of socks goes a long way!”

Yuu laughed, “You’re right. Thank you, Headmage.”

“I-It was the least I could do. And Sam, I was simply congratulating Yuu-kun on a job well done,” Crowley tapped his cane on the ground, trying not to be too proud that Yuu liked his gift. “They managed to get Kingscholar-kun to finish all his worksheets for this winter break.”

Sam blinked, “That’s a magnificent feat! What kinda black magic did ya use on Kingscholar?”

“Yeah, herbivore, what kind of magic did you use to persuade me to do schoolwork?” The group immediately startled, watching as Leona leisurely walked over, slinging an arm over their shoulder.

Yuu seemed to fluster, “I…we just exchanged favors. That’s all.”

“Hmm,” Sam hummed, a grin on his face. “My friend from the other side is telling me something interesting happened over the break.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes as Leona smirked, “W-Wait a minute! Kingscholar-kun! What did you do to the Prefect?” Nothing good could come out of Leona Kingscholar looking so…so triumphant!

“I didn’t do anything,” Leona said coyly. “If anything it was Yuu who suddenly—“

“Okay, enough,” Yuu interrupted, tugging Leona out of the store. And the weird thing was Leona easily followed. “Me and Leona have something to discuss. See you two later!”

As they hurried away, it finally dawned on Crowley.

He pointed a half crooked finger toward the exit, “Are they…dating?”

“Seems so to me,” Sam snickered. “I think they make a cute couple.”

No…Crowley couldn’t accept it. There’s no way his beloved child was dating Leona Kingscholar. There was no one in NRC that Crowley could wholeheartedly approve of dating Yuu. Especially not Leona. Not on his watch.

“That— Kingscholar!”

iii. grim

Grim wasn't stupid. He wasn't into complicated stuff like classes, but he sure noticed the new development that had happened over winter break.

Leona Kingscholar, the scary– ahem, lazy beastman from Savanaclaw...was always with his henchman nowadays. When they had alchemy homework, he was always there in a labcoat next to them. When they studied in the library, he was dozing beside them. And especially during meal times like this! He helped himself to the food that they cooked. And the worst part was the fact that the henchman didn’t seem to mind.

It was to the point that it was worrying, because his henchman was his! Their one and only boss was him, Grim the Great, after all!

But it seemed that Leona was trying to steal his henchman away from him.

Grim narrowed his eyes as the henchman left to grab some water, "Hey. Why are you trying to steal my henchman from me?"

"Hah?" Leona glanced at him before takong another bite out of his lamb chops. "Who's stealing from who?"

"I mean!" Grim stood up on his chair. "You're always around them these days, yanno!"

Leona scoffed, but he seemed to consider his words before finally speaking, "How 'bout a truce, furball? They stay your henchman and they're my herbivore. Deal?"

Well. First of all, Grim wanted to take offense at being called furball. It was clearly an insult to his (very cute) and intimidating fire ears.

But that...

"Hmph. Fine," Grim pointed his paw toward Leona's plate. "But I want one of those!"

Leona grinned, tossing a lamb chop onto Grim's plate, "Pleasure doing business with you."

As Grim chewed on the lamb chop, the henchman returned, two glasses of water in their hands, "What are you guys talking about?"

"Nothin'" 

"Nothing."

The beastman and monster stared at each other for a moment before going back to their food. Grim kept an eye on Leona, who was being more touchy than usual. He kept poking the henchman and the henchman looked...

That was when Grim remembered Ace being all gross and talking about his past dating escapades. And that was when it clicked.

"Henchman," Grim glanced between the two with hesitation. "Are you two...dating?"

Yuu choked on their bread, and Leona wordlessly handed them his water.

"Yeah," Leona stated, rubbing their back lightly. "Why?"

"Nothin'! It's just," Blue eyes scanned Yuu, before thinking back to the many people at NRC who definitely expressed interest in them. "Henchman, I think ya could've done better, yanno?"

Leona's eyes narrowed, "You little–"

And that was how Grim spent some time running away from the beastman who chased him around Ramshackle. Meanwhile the ghosts were congratulating a still-shellshocked Yuu, so Grim's yells for help went unanswered. At least he got a lamb chop out of the whole ordeal.

iv. leona 

It was official. Maybe Leona was finally starting understanding where Falena was coming from when he gushed over his queen. Leona himself could barely keep himself from thinking about Yuu once every few minutes.

It would be embarrassing to admit just how many times he had been distracted enough that his gaze kept drifting toward Yuu.

Yuu who was comfortably nestled against him, scrolling on their phone. He wrapped an arm around their waist, nuzzling into the plane of their back.

"What's this about?" They asked, their hand patting his own.

"Nothing," He said, his voice muffled as he felt their heat seeping into his fingers.

His thoughts couldn't help but drift back to their conversation that fateful day.

And until that moment Leona had never realized how similar they were. Their words were a mirror of his own, down to the talk of the word ‘deserve’.

He spent his life being a slave to that word. 'I deserve to be king.' 'I deserve to be the dormleader.' 'I deserve to win in the magift tournament.’

All the thoughts of 'deserve' in his life never led anywhere useful. Did he ever want to be king, or was it just the words of others around him that filled him with such hatred for his own existence that the throne was the only thing that he thought would fix it?

If he truly wanted something he should fight for it. And if he lost, and still wanted it, then he would try again. That was what he understood now. And that was what lead him to Yuu.

It still wasn't fully resolved. Leona still had his doubts on whether he could truly care for them properly. And he sure as hell hadn't figured out just what got Yuu to have such a warped perception of him. But… 

His arms tightened around them. It was something that they could figure out at a later date. For now, he would settle for the way their heart rate seemed to spike as he softly stroked their stomach.

He pressed a kiss against their shoulder, “Why’s your heart rate going up?”

“Ugh,” They sighed. “I hate that you can hear that.”

“Why’s that herbivore?” Leona’s hand drifted, until he could swipe the hair away from their nape. He learned that they were especially reactive when he kissed their neck. He pressed his lips against their skin, smirking as he heard their heart rate speed up, “Kinda cute that you do that.”

Yuu shifted until they were facing him, a frown on their face, “If you want to kiss me, you should just ask Leona.”

“You were busy,” He murmured, though he didn’t hesitate to close the gap of space between them.

“If you asked me to, I would’ve put down my phone earlier,” They said, their breaths sounding a bit short as Leona’s nose brushed against theirs.

“You’re so in love with me, aren’t you?” Leona drawled, suppressing a laugh at their expression.

Instead of saying anything, they leaned forward and pecked his lips. Something must’ve shown on his face, because they grinned, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

And then Leona couldn’t hold it any longer. He leaned in, their arms readily wrapping around him as they kissed. Leona couldn’t hide his impatience as he licked into their mouth, the startled noise they made turning his rationality into mush. He never thought he would ever have such greed for another person before. But this… Their hand that was buried in his hair tightened and he tilted his head further, their noses brushing when—

BRIIING—!

Leona flinched back at the obnoxious ringtone. He could see Yuu trying to catch their breath, blinking a few times to gather their bearings. Did he really have to answer the phone?

“Answer it,” They said gently. He pecked their cheek before pulling back. He found his phone on the table, the name flashing on the screen making him roll his eyes.

Meddlesome Falena

He looked over his shoulder, “It’s Cheka. Are you ready yet?” They raked their hand through their hair, the strands falling messily around their face as they gave him a thumbs up. Dammit…they were unfairly pretty at times.

And as Leona internally cursed, he pressed the 'answer call’ button.

v. cheka (+ family)

“Hello? Hello! Papa, I can’t see Ojitan, I can only see black!” The cheerful voice that rang out made Yuu chuckle slightly.

Leona seemed to hesitate before opening the camera, “That’s because I haven’t opened my camera yet, brat.”

“OJITAN!” The squeal that Cheka let out was quite frankly earshattering. They winced before moving into frame. “Oh! Huh? Yuu-tan! Yuu-tan’s here too!”

They answered Cheka’s enthusiastic waves with a greeting of their own, “Good to see you too, little lion.”

“How come Yuu-tan is here already?” Cheka wasn’t the best camera man. They were getting a very interesting angle of Cheka’s chin and shoulder. 

“Uh…” Yuu trailed off, glancing at Leona.

“Who cares?” Leona grumbled. “Why did you call?”

But Cheka didn’t seem interested in knowing anymore, “Papa! Look, Yuu-tan’s here too.” Yuu immediately straightened their posture, while Leona took this time to yawn.

“Alright, alright,” They could see the camera shake before light flooded the screen. Falena was now proping the camera up, a colorful tapestry behind him as he held Cheka in his lap. “Hello brother. And Yuu-san too! This is perfect, hold on a second—“

“Papa’s calling Mama over,” Cheka helpfully added as Falena turned to talk to someone off camera. “Mama was very interested in what we did.”

“Tch,” Leona said, looking like he swallowed a particularly bitter medicine. Maybe he didn’t have the best relationship with his sister…?

“Do you not like the queen?” Yuu asked quietly.

“No,” Leona answered, albeit a bit reluctantly. "If she went asking that means that she already figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

Leona leaned against their shoulder, “Wait and see.”

They gulped as another figure entered the camera’s view. An intimidating beastwoman traditional garb swathing her in colorful fabrics. She was a lioness beastman, they noted, matching Falena almost perfectly in her regal appearance. For a moment there was silence across the line.

And then a smile cracked on her face, “So. Who was the one who confessed first?” What? Falena seemed to echo their sentiment, his expression shifting from confused to realization to shock.

While Yuu was still in shock, Leona volunteered a hand, “I did.”

They sputtered, “You— You proposed at first.”

“Hmm… You were braver than Falena, then,” She tilted a head toward her husband. “It took him a whole three years to actually propose.”

“Oh gods above,” Falena muttered, still out of his mind. “Leona’s engaged? He…my baby brother…” It seemed that it didn’t take much for Falena to be shocked.

“We’re dating. Da-ting,” Leona emphasized each syllable like he was talking to a child. “The proposal was a gimmick.”

Now Yuu snorted, “You seemed to be seriously considering it before.”

“Yay!” The loud shout disturbed the calm atmosphere. It was clear that they had all forgotten that Cheka was in attendance. He swung his arms around, pumping his tiny fists in the air, “Yuu-tan and Ojitan are getting married!”

“Uh…Cheka,” Falena said tentatively. “That’s not—“

“Well before that, they would need to visit the Savanna, right, m’toto?” The queen seemed to be seriously thinking about it. Wasn’t it…a bit fast? “I for one, would like to get to know you first.”

Cheka seemed to agree, nodding furiously, “I’m gonna take Yuu-tan to all my favorite spots!” 

“Wait, we’re not actually engaged,” Yuu laughed nervously. This development was not what they were anticipating. How were they supposed to know that the Queen would be this interested in Leona’s partner?

But Leona didn’t seem phased, “I’ll bring them the next time we have vacation.”

“Leona??” They glanced at their boyfriend before looking at the screen. “Why are you going along with this?”

“Cuz,” Leona grinned at them mischievously. “We can’t have you running away from me, can we?”

“Yup!” Cheka chimed in. “Yuu-tan’s family now!”

Yuu had a feeling that they didn’t quite understand what they were getting into when they dated Leona. And now they were suffering the consequences. But well…

A vacation in Sunset Savanna didn’t sound bad. Plus they would be sponsored by the Royal Family, and they could bring Grim along. And Leona would be there.

It was a fitting end, perhaps. They started this vacation wondering about families, having not remembered their own. And it seemed now that winter was over, they were heading into spring with a brand new family.

Their friends. Crowley and the teachers. And now Leona and Cheka.

Maybe this family they had gathered wasn’t such a bad thing afterall. Yuu squeezed at Leona's hand lightly. And Leona nudged them with his elbow in return, giving them a smirk.

It was a fitting end indeed.

and…that’s a wrap !! congratulations for getting to the end of the baby it’s cold outside series !!

it’s kind of a bittersweet thing when things end, but i decided to look at it in a positive way, because finally leonayuu's story is out there for everyone to enjoy ^^

(plus, i guess now everyone can look forward to the other leonayuu brainrot fics i’ve written >:D)

thank you for reading until this far, and i hope that you’ve enjoyed your journey :> if you’d like to read more of my writing, please check out my masterlist <3

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#/trau writes #/trau fics #we've reached the end *crowd cheers* #leona kingscholar #leona kingsholar x reader #leona x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst fics

[kana-de]

I like you work sm that I decided to req :>>

What about a modern!au or not(up to you) of Wanderer or Scaramouche having a SO that keeps wearing long slevees even in humid weather?

Only for him to accidentally walk in on SO changing and seeing a big tattoo on their back and some designs on their arms too? Bonus if they're still nee in the relationship!!

Dazz all have a good dayyy🤸🤸

summary: scaramouche x fem!reader. scaramouche wants to know why you always hide behind all those long-sleeved clothes, and he finds out. unintentionally.

cw: sfw. developing/new relationship. fluff. a bit of hurt/comfort in the end. mention of self harm, weight insecurity (only once). 1088 words.

a hoodie, another hoodie, a sweater, a black shirt, a hoodie again...

that's what your wardrobe looked like. scaramouche's eyes and hands scanned all of it, and, for about the two weeks you guys were dating, he hadn't seen you in anything other than long-sleeved clothes. it was about june, the weather was getting up to 22-23°C and you still haven't wore a single t-shirt.

he thought he was going crazy with the theories.

barely a few days ago, he invited you to an onsen - to celebrate your birthday, but you had to decline the offer - you really didn't want to disappoint him, but you had to say "no" - the thing is, people with tattoos are not allowed in onsens, but he didn't know you had any. you felt bad, but you lied to him about having an intolerance to sudden changes in temperature - literally the first thing that came to your mind. you ended up celebrating your birthday in a fancy restaurant - scaramouche's treat.

scara knew that your relationship with him were only starting, and he didn't have the right to pry on tou to answer all of his personal questions he has for you - he could ask about if you've done any self harm to cover your arms now, or if you're insecure about your weight... but he was waiting for you to elaborate it yourself.

until he found out himself, absolutely randomly.

on one of the many sunny days he invited you on a picnic date - you just couldn't say no. picking out a hoodie of a light color, you didn't even bother to check the weather forecast. you and scaramouche have already made so mane plans for today, it's not even possible that they'll get ruined!

the date was going completely wonderful. you and scaramouche were laughing, eating some pizza he bought, taking photos on your old polaroid camera for further printing and hanging them on the walls of your rooms - memories are memories.

and then... a pouring rain started. a very heavy rain, so to say, so your clothes quickly got drenched wet.

"c'mon, lets go to my apartment. i'll give you my clothes to change into, and we'll watch something to pass the time." scaramouche said, and stood up from the blanket you brought. he held out his hand for you to grab it and both of you to quickly run towards his apartment. "we have to be quick though. your clothes are already literally sticking to your body, i have no doubts you'll get sick after this."

"my, why so generous? and worried? ohh, are you worried about me, scara?" you taunted with a never once faltering smile, as you took his surprisingly warm hand in yours, intertwining your fingers with his. "the always-so-grumpy kunikuzushi finally getting sweete- ow! wait!"

upon hearing your taunts, he could only hide the slight redness on his face by turning around and rushed forward. you almost stumbled and fell to the ground as he pulled your hand and started to run through the rain.

"shut up and run, dumbass! i'm already cold!" scaramouche shouts, but slightly slows down for you to keep up with him; he hears you laugh, tho. he, in fact, is getting sweeter. and he doesn't know if he hates it.

soon enough, you arrive at his humble abode - just a minimalistic flat, nothing too special or eye-catching; but, you swear you've seen an electric guitar in his bedroom - yet, scara quickly shoved you into the bathroom with the words "stop getting distracted and get dressed and cleaned, i don't want you sick, that's why you're here".

but of course he had to forget to give tou clothes in the first place - that's why he took a hoodie and some loose jeans from his wardrobe and rushed to the bathroom that had you in; he also forgot to knock, and opened the door, yet...

instead of seeing you naked, like in some cliché films, scaramouche finally saw what he wanted to see for quite a long time already. he saw the answers to all his questions about your clothes.

your back was tattoed with a big drawing of a dragon, some sakura designs on your forearms, a few butterflies, music notes and stars on the other parts of your arms, back and on your shoulder blades.

to say he was shocked is an understatement. but he was confused more than he was shocked.

scara just... froze in the doorway, clothes falling out of his grasp. he stared at your frozen in place too back, as if he revealed your darkest secret.

"s-scara, i told you to knock!" you stutter, feeling embarrassed not because he's seeing you in a bra, but because he's seeing your secret. your tattoos that you tried so well to keep hidden.

it almost pains you to understand that it all is now revealed. but maybe, just maybe, it brings you some kind of ease, knowing that you won't have to hide them now.

"so that's why you do not wear open clothes..." scaramouche mutters. he still doesn't understand. "i still don't understand."

you sigh.

"it's complicated." you finally say, taking a look at your tattooed arm.

scaramouche raises his eyebrows. "but i like them. i really do. they look very good on you. what's so complicated?"

it's time for you to raise your eyebrows. you thought he'd just brush your tattoos off, because he hates them or doesn't like them, or he'd even break up with you, because most of your colleagues told you that it doesn't suit a woman to have big tatoos...

"i thought you wouldn't like them.." you say, averting your eyes. you look in the mirror instead, at your reflection in it.

"well, i most certainly do." scaramouche said absolutely seriously now. "i mean, there's no need for you to cover them and torment yourself with wearing hoodies in summer. you can show them off, they look cool." scaramouche nods a few times, getting closer to you, picking up the fallen previously clothes and putting them somewhere on the sink.

he then hugs you. tightly. a warm embrace of understanding and acceptance. you can only sigh once more, nuzzling into his neck. his hands trace circles on your arms and backt too, as if unintentionally touching your tattoos.

"you really like them?" you ask whisperlike, sending shivers down his spine because of how your warm breath feels on his neck.

"i do. how could i not?" scara replies, kissing your forehead. "silly."

#kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi x you #wanderer x you #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin fluff #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche modern au

[neewtmas]

ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ᴀʙʙᴇʏ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ // ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪɪ

pairing: george karim x fem!reader

wordcount: 2.7k

summary: a case that takes longer than expected, an unrequited crush, and the hardest decision you ever had to make

masterlist part I part II

taglist: @maraschinomerry @sstrawberriel  @poisonquinzell @holymotherfxrkingshirtballs @the-high-lady-of-3am-crackposts @shampoocovers99 (if you wanna be added or removed, just tell me) also @oblivious-idiot

You had barely turned the corner onto Portland Row when you already started searching your pockets for the house key. When you found it, you gripped the metal tightly, glad to have something to hold onto. Though slightly out of breath now, you were still keeping up a pace that had you a few steps in front of George at all times. No words had been exchanged throughout the walk, and you were equal parts sad and glad that he hadn't even attempted a conversation. The gate creaked horribly as you pushed it open, and you wouldn't have even noticed how much force you applied if it hadn't been for George right behind you. You spun around at his surprised gasp just in time to see the gate that had swung back hit him. He grimaced. "That was unnecessary."

Your face flushed in embarrassment. "It wasn't on purpose", you mumbled and abruptly turned around to open the front door, desperate to escape the situation. Stepping into the hallway, you noticed the key had left little red indents in the palm of your hands. Looking at it, a clear visualisation of your incapability to control your feelings, you felt pathetic.

There wasn't much time to think about it though, because George pushed closely past you, pizza cartons held up high to not hit your head. Your heartbeat quickened at his sudden closeness. He yelled out for Lockwood and Lucy as he stomped into the kitchen, still in boots and his jacket. You knelt to untie your shoes, taking the few moments it took as a last opportunity to pull yourself together enough to survive the dinner without giving a hint about your emotional state.

"Well George, enlighten us. What did you guys find out?" Lockwood opened up the conversation after the four of you had demolished about half of every pizza within mere minutes. George put down the piece of pizza he was currently munching on, and cleared his throat. "Abbey House is the main residence of the Blackwood family. It's similar to Combe Carey Hall insofar as it's a manor outside of London, but up until now, there have never been any disturbances. The history of the house is fascinatingly non-violent, actually."

"Really? No death? No murder? Not even a little bit?" Lockwood seemed almost disappointed by George's revelations. "Oh, there has been death. Plenty of it, if that makes you happy. But none of it is connected to the house itself." George fished a pencil out of his pocket that was so small already that it looked almost impossible to write with. He pushed one of the pizza cartons aside and quickly sketched the outline of a family tree.

Lucy, who sat next to you at the long side of the table, leaned over to get a closer look, forcing you to move closer to George as well. Your legs were touching now under the table. He looked at you and gave you the quickest of smiles before he turned back to the thinking cloth. "We've got Lord Blackwood at the top." He drew a somewhat funky-looking stick figure. "He's the current head of the family, and he owns Abbey House." He drew another stick figure next to the one already on the cloth and added something that, with a little fantasy, resembled a dress. He connected them with two intertwined rings. "His wife died a few years ago. Natural causes, no comeback as a ghost." He drew a big x over the stick figure. "They have two kids-" Another two stick figures. "The daughter is quite a few years older than her brother. She resides at Abbey House, and her brother is off to some fancy private school. Lastly, Lord Blackwood also has an older sister. Couldn't find too much about her."

Lockwood inspected the sketch with great interest. "Anything about staff? Any accidents, or something of the sort?" George leaned back, crossing his arms. He did not move his leg away from yours. "Nothing out of the ordinary. We spent the entire day combing through dusty family tree records and old newspaper clippings. His wife seemed to have lived quite a scandalous life before she got married to him. His daughter is famously picky with the men she surrounds herself with, which of course requires a regular article about how there is 'no heir in sight!' in just about every gossip magazine. Lord Blackwood has another sister, but she broke it off with her family and moved up to Scotland with her five kids. Lots of information, almost all of it irrelevant."

Lockwood took another piece of pizza and looked at it contemplatively. "On the phone, it sounded like a proper nightmare. There is a ghost there, and it's very angry."

"Don't know if I like the fact that there seems to be nothing that points towards a ghost", Lucy said.

"That's not that uncommon. And if I'm honest, now I'm even more intrigued." Lockwood had finished his piece of pizza in record time. "Of course you are", Lucy mumbled under her breath.

Lockwood ignored her. "We'll take the train tomorrow, early afternoon. I had our rapiers checked yesterday, so that's all in the clear. (name), Lucy, you go and lay out all of the equipment, and see if we need to fill up on something. We should be fully stocked, but you never know."

Lockwood seemed to brim with excited energy as he got up from the table. That's what the prospect of a challenging case tended to do to him. "I'll be in the library." He snatched the last piece of pizza from one of the cartons. "Doing some research of my own."

"Reading gossip magazines you mean?" George called after him, but Lockwood was already out of the room. George chuckled, looking at you. "Maybe I should have taken Lockwood with me today", he joked, and you gave your best to force a natural-looking smile. "Yeah, maybe", you quietly said and got up. "Lucy, let's get this over with." You didn't wait for her as you made your way down the staircase into the basement. You missed the way George turned and looked after you, with confusion and hurt at the way you were acting towards him.

In the basement, you started with pulling chains off the rack, simply dropping them in the middle of the room, the clatter of the metal against the concrete reverberating through the air. You couldn't wait to be done and get back to the solace of your room. By the time Lucy entered the room, you had moved on to sorting through the salt bombs. She joined you, and you worked in silence. There was no need to talk, it was a methodical procedure you both had gone through time and time again.

When you were done, you did a quick check of everything to make sure you didn't miss anything. Lucy stood leaning against the doorframe, watching you with her arms crossed over her chest. "I think we're good to go", you finally said and she smiled at you. You waited for her to turn around and lead the way back upstairs, but she didn't.

"Did something happen between you?"

You swallowed thickly. "No. Why?"

She shrugged. "You seem on edge. And he seems hurt."

You almost laughed. "Hurt?"

"You should have seen the way he looked after you after dinner."

You shook your head. "Lucy, you don't need to invent imaginary scenarios to make me feel better. I appreciate the sentiment, but it's really not helping."

She raised her eyebrows. "Tell me what happened then."

You huffed. "Nothing. Except me asking him to get dinner with me, and him turning it into getting pizza for everyone. Can't make it much clearer than that, now can you?"

Lucy just looked at you and the pity in her eyes made you want to rip your hair out. You flexed your hand, where the marks of the key were long gone, but you still felt pathetic.

"I don't think that was his intention", she finally said softly and turned around. You didn't move even after you heard her footsteps on the stairs and finally the door closing behind her. The room was now only dimly lit from the last bit of daylight that made its way through the narrow windows. Your eyes wandered over the four piles of equipment you had made on the floor, one for each member of the agency. From there, over to the shelves in which many folders filled to the brim with old bills, case records and miscellaneous papers piled up with no discernable system. Lastly, to the desks that stood in the corner, George's desk specifically. It was overflowing with books, notes, pictures, diagrams, loose paper, and pens, chaos only he could find any system in. On top of a stack of books stood a mug, looking lonely and out of place.

Without thinking about it, you slowly walked over and picked it up. It was your favourite mug, gifted to you by Lockwood after your first successful case with the agency as a sign that you were now a proper member. You softly brushed over the small spot on the handle that was chipped from the one time Lucy had tried to carry more than her hands could handle. You thought about how you had brought this cup down here a few days ago to give it to George who had been sitting over his notes for hours that evening. He had smiled at you, full of surprise and gratitude and fondness, before he had pulled over a chair for you to explain excitedly what he had been working on.

You blinked away the tears that had formed in your eyes. You weren't sure if you could go through with this. Leaving Lockwood & Co. would be like leaving family. But on the other hand, how long could you endure keeping things like they were? You had no idea how long you stood in the dark basement, staring at the mug that somehow had become the embodiment of the connections you had formed in this house - connections of varying kinds, but all connections of love. Connections that felt almost impossible to leave behind.

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This night's sleep had been horrible. You stumbled through the preparations that filled the entire first half of the day and looked forward to the train ride out into the country that would give you a chance to catch up on some of the sleep that you missed last night through all the tossing and turning.

The station was bustling with people, each one seemingly knowing exactly where to go and what to do. The four of you moved slowly through it all, your bags bulky and awkward to walk with, the rapiers dangling from your sides earning you a few glances from the people that passed you. Luckily, the train was already waiting at the platform. Your shoulder was aching from the unrelenting pressure of the bag's strap. After you ascended the three steps up into the train, you let it slip off your shoulder with a sigh, glad to be able to set it down for a second. The train was almost empty, it seemed like Stoneford - the village closest to Abbey House - wasn't a very popular destination. Your three colleagues had already started moving forward through the narrow hallway slowly, disregarding the empty seats they passed. Lockwood had booked you a private compartment, to allow you to discuss further details regarding the case if it was necessary, without anyone listening in on your conversation.

You looked down at the bag lying by your feet with dread. This was one of the many downsides of taking on cases with minimal information - the need to bring an extensive selection of gear to be equipped for everything that might come your way. You let out a long drawn-out sigh before bending down and snatching the straps that were on the floor. You started to make your way through the hallway, kicking and dragging the bag more than carrying it. You didn't come very far before the bag came to an abrupt halt, causing you to stumble forward and almost trip over your own feet. You cursed under your breath, which earned you a disapproving look from an older lady reading a newspaper two seats down from where you stood. You ignored her as you tried to get the strap out that had wedged itself in between the seat and the armrest.

You could feel your frustration building when you suddenly felt a hand coming to rest on the small of your back. You turned around to find George standing behind you. "Let me handle that", he said, and gently pushed you towards where Lucy and Lockwood had already disappeared into the compartment. You hesitated for a second, and looked back and forth between him and the bag, acutely aware of the placement of his hand. He raised his eyebrows, a silent prompt to follow what he had said.

"Thank you", you quietly said and left him to take care of it. The compartment door slid to the side easily, and you found Lucy and Lockwood on one of the benches, Lucy on her back with her head on Lockwood's lap. They had piled the luggage on the other bench, leaving barely enough room for two people to sit.

"Do you have to lie down, Lucy?", you asked. "Maybe we could put one of the bags on your bench." Lucy raised her head so that she could look at you over the edge of the table where Lockwood was looking through some papers, ignoring your conversation. "I'm really tired, unfortunately", she said. "I'm sure you understand." You rolled your eyes at her attempt to fake a convincing yawn. It was crystal clear to you what she was trying to do.

There was no time to argue with her because just then George appeared in the door frame. He wrestled the bag into the space under Lucy's and Lockwood's bench so that you could still move around in the compartment. When he was done, he turned to you. "Do you wanna sit by the window?" He was a little out of breath, a stray curl falling into his forehead. You shrugged. "I don't have a preference." He smiled at you. "Me neither. Then you get the window seat."

You squeezed yourself past the bags and sat down as close to the wall as possible, silently praying that the space was bigger than it looked. George placed his jacket on top of the bags before he too squeezed past the bags and plopped down next to you. He stretched out his legs with a sigh and took off his glasses to polish them on his shirt. He seemed entirely unfazed by the fact that your entire side was pressed up against him, all while it made your heartbeat stumble. You clasped your hands together in your lap to make yourself as small as possible.

"Lucy?" George asked. You bit your lip as you looked out of the window. Surely he was about to ask her to switch places so that he wouldn't have to be so close to you for the next several hours - you knew how he felt about excessive physical contact.

"Would you mind giving me the folder with the yellow marker?"

You looked over to Lucy, who pulled the folder out of the backpack you brought. George took it from her and opened it, immediately immersing himself in whatever he had in there.

In the meantime, the train had left the station. You hadn't moved at all, too afraid to accidentally alert George to the fact that you were almost sitting on top of him. Instead, you stared out of the window at the houses that flew by, slowly but surely getting replaced by trees and other greenery. There was a comfortable silence in the compartment, and that coupled with the rhythmic sound of the train had your eyes droop quickly. You rested your head against the wall and allowed them to close, quickly drifting off into sleep.

thank you for reading! feedback is appreciated :)

part IV

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