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wandasaura · 9 months ago

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LINGER LIKE A TATTOO KISS

summary — as the summer approaches, so does a shift in your relationship with wanda

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, sensory overload, anxiety, mentions of child abuse (very brief and nondescript), dom/sub dynamics, patience testing, bratty!reader, punishment, teasing, mild humiliation, orgasm denial, spanking, praise, aftercare, entrance of the mommy kink, men/minors dni

authors note — the moment we’ve all been waiting for… or at least one of them ;), we finally got some wanda action, and a couple little domestic scenes because they’re the cutest wives

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

The supermarket was beyond crowded for it being a Wednesday afternoon in early May. You supposed the air conditioned aisles were being used as an escape from the scalding temperatures of approaching summer that threatened to melt the inventory of every ice cream truck in the neighborhood, but to say you were overstimulated was putting it lightly.

You trailed after Wanda and Natasha with a frown on your face, making your disinterest known to both of the lawyers who were in desperate need of more produce and salad kits. You’d never understand why Natasha favored the plastic bags of lettuce over the perfectly green heads that Wanda grew in the back garden, but she’d thrown at least six prepackaged variations into the cart when you stopped at the stand. You were trailing down the cereal aisle now, and your attitude was getting on both of their nerves.

Wanda had been flat out ignoring your temper tantrum since the moment it started, but Natasha was not as keen to be dismissive as her wife. She’d been throwing out warnings since you’d first come through the automatic doors, but they had all fallen on deaf ears as you stayed persistent in your pout. Your arms were folded over your chest, your eyes slitted into daggers if anyone even attempted to look in your direction. You’d been near perfectly behaved for weeks, spare a few harsh comments thrown in Wanda’s direction, but they’d both been willing to overlook your harshness because aside from those, you’d been an angel. Whatever streak of good behavior you’d been running off of however, had seen its end, and both lawyers in front of you were shocked by the attitude you simmered in.

“If I have to ask you again to pick up your feet, I’m going to make you sit in the cart like a child.” Natasha’s voice was quiet, not willing to draw attention from the other shoppers in the aisle, but there was an unignorable warning in her tone. She’d asked you three times to stop dragging your feet across the floors, and each time you promptly dragged them harder. You were absolutely certain that smudges of black looped the grocery store floors and aided as a map to your current location, but you didn’t care. You’d been so good, so painfully good and pliant and willing to bend to even the slightest gust of wind, but not today. Not now. Not when it was too hot and too cold at the same time. Not when it was too loud and too crowded and you’d asked them both if you could just stay home. They hadn’t wanted that. They wanted to go together, told you that you were going together even after you protested, and you know it’s because they’d wanted to get you some of your favorite treats for the end of the semester coming up, but how could they blame you for being cranky when you’d warned them about not wanting to come along at all. You’d been here for what felt like hours, and if your phone wasn’t being held captive in Wanda’s pocket, you’re sure the digits on your lockscreen would support your accusation.

“Can we leave?!” You ignored Natasha’s warning, wiggled away from her when she got too close, and pressed yourself up against the shelves of cereal boxes. You wouldn’t fare well to the close contact she wanted to initiate, but she didn’t seem to get that, because the second you thought you had found peace in your little corner, she was right back in front of you with a glare only the worst criminals faced. She was not your loving and sweet dominant right now, you’d pushed her too far, and she didn’t take kindly to embarrassment. You’re pretty sure that the man three carts behind you had been gawking at your temperament since you came in, and while Wanda had sent him a glare, he still hadn’t gotten the hint that your little attitude didn’t concern him. Natasha grabbed at your wrists, pulling them away from your chest with a grip too strong to fight. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you wiggled immediately, but she wasn’t letting go. “Nat, let go.” You pleaded with her, desperately tried to get her to understand you needed space right now, but she was seething and subsequently blinded by your panic.

“Natalia.” Wanda called out for her wife, her careful eye watching your movements despite the seeming disinterest on her lips. Your eyes flickered over to Wanda, and while to Natasha it appeared that you were a deer in headlights anticipating a scolding, the Sokovian could see the wisps of actual panic in your stare. “Let go.”

Natasha listened, if only because a crowd had started to form toward the opposite end of the aisle and she wanted to move on before she became the cause of a traffic jam. Her hand left yours, and though it had been making your skin burn, you missed it instantly. Tears brimmed your eyes, but you refused to let her see that, and so instead of pleading that you leave only to be overlooked again, you just dropped your chin to your chest and followed along after them both with a drag in your step.

“This is your chance to tell me what’s wrong.” You practically jumped out of your skin when Wanda’s voice appeared closer than it had been all afternoon. If you had leaned any closer into her, your arm would have brushed her chest. You shuffled away from her, beyond the point of communication. You thought you’d made it pretty clear that you wanted to leave, anytime you acted out Natasha didn’t hesitate to drag you away, but she hadn’t this time. You knew that realistically it was because she needed supplies to make dinner, but after weeks of being good, you couldn’t deny that you had missed the feeling of her heavy hands on your skin in a way that was less than kind. You could ask for what you needed, but you would rather die a slow painful death then ask for what she called a ‘maintenance spanking’. “If you’re not going to communicate, then I don’t want the attitude. You are making a scene. Drop it, pick out some snacks, and try to be nice.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You huffed, making the rash decision to shove her body away from yours with both of your outstretched palms. Wanda’s lips set into a firm line, her eyebrows raised in surprise at the action. You’ve been rude, snarky even, but you’ve never raised your hands to her, even if it was only to create some space between your bodies. You shuffled on your feet, immediately regretting the decision to force space rather than ask for it. You’d been riding her last nerve for days, your sarcastic comments just the slightest bit meaner than usual, but she had been willing to overlook them because she knew you were stressed with finals and outside of those one-off comments you’d been helpful and obedient. There was no way she’d ignore this, and you wanted to cry thinking about how at the end of the night it wouldn’t be Natasha’s hands on your body that you wanted so desperately, but hers. “I– sorry.” You apologized weakly, not even sure what it was that you were apologizing for. Was it because the look in her eyes was undeniably scary, or was it because you pushed her? You knew that it was a mixture of both, but you needed that look to go away before you could even form a coherent thought.

“In the cart.” She demanded, not leaving you any room to argue. You violently shook your head, knowing that being confined to such a small space would only make the panic in your belly worse. There were too many noises and stimulus, too many conflicting temperatures, being confined between four metal bumpers would certainly set you off and you were only just barely keeping yourself together now. “If you want to act like a child you’ll get treated like one. Natasha has asked you four times to stop dragging your feet, and frankly, I can’t trust that you’ll keep your hands to yourself anymore. You either sit in the cart, or you and I will go out to the car and you won’t be getting any of the treats you want. Which one is it going to be?”

“I want Nat.” You pleaded with her, suddenly aware of the fact that you didn’t even know where the other redhead had wandered off to, or when she’d started moving. She had been right in front of you, but now you couldn’t spot her and the thought of losing her in the supermarket spiked worry in your chest. “Where’s Nat?” You didn’t care about how frantic you appeared, didn’t care that you were ignoring Wanda’s question and definitely making things worse for yourself. You hated getting separated, you hated breaking off into pairs even if the three of you had set a meet up location if this were to happen.

Wanda, though annoyed with your behavior, sighed softly and dropped the threatening glare she’d been pointing at you. “Nat went to get some grapes and strawberries. You finished them this morning, remember?” You could only nod, remembering that you had in fact finished their fruit after refusing to eat the eggs that Wanda made for breakfast. It was too hot outside for anything warm to eat. They weren’t giving you a choice in tagging along, and although you couldn’t control where they dragged you, well you could if you had called your safeword and asked for space, but that wasn’t really what you wanted. You still had control over what you ate even if the supermarket was non negotiable, and you knew that the cold fruit would sit better in your stomach when it inevitably came time to leave.

“This is the last time I’m going to ask you what’s wrong, Y/N. If you refuse to answer, I will be the one you deal with when we get home. This behavior is unacceptable.” Wanda remained firm, but there was concern in her voice that made you wonder if you would avoid punishment if you came clean. Deciding that you’d rather face humiliation than her heavy hand on your ass, you relented.

“There’s too many people.” You whispered, shamefully dropping your eyes to the floor, counting the specs of black and gold in the tiles beneath your feet. The design was ugly when isolated, but somehow it worked for the aesthetic of the store when you focused on the full picture. “It’s too loud. And tomorrow's my last final and I’m not sure how it’s going to go, and I have to sleep at my dorm tonight and I haven’t done that since Natty was away. And I just need space right now but I don’t want to be alone.”

The Maximoff residence had practically become your residence since the night you showed up in tears. You’d spent all of your nights in the soft guest bed, and most of your mornings in the dining room eating a homemade breakfast for the last six weeks. It was embarrassing to admit that you had gotten used to being there with them, that now that you had it, you didn’t want to trade it in for your stiff dorm room with a roommate you hadn’t spoken a word to since the first week of classes, even if it would only be for a handful of hours to sleep. You hated sleeping alone, even if you had slept alone in their house almost every night, spare the occasions Natasha fucked you into that fuzzy headspace she adores and they had let you crash in bed with them. Sleeping in your dorm was different, and lonely. And yeah, you had survived three years of dorm living prior to meeting them, but things were different now. You are different now.

Wanda’s face melted into softness at your admission, and suddenly you felt silly for keeping it to yourself for so long, but you’d unasked for self-criticism had convinced you that you were being needy and unreasonable and they wouldn’t understand where your head was at even if you tried to articulate. After almost a year with Natasha, you should’ve known that wasn’t true, shouldn’t have even entertained that thought, but after showing both her and Wanda that you could be good for longer than just a couple hours, you’d felt like raising any problems no matter their origin would only aggravate them. You didn’t want to lose what you had, even if it meant being uncomfortable in a grocery store.

“It is pretty overstimulating in here, isn’t it?” Wanda coos, her green eyes understanding and sympathetic. It’s a violent switch from how she’d been talking to you, but you thrive beneath her gentle validation of your feelings and find yourself nodding along. “Natty and I try our best to accommodate you, but we don’t know everything that can be overwhelming for you. We need you to tell us, so these things don’t happen. Shoving me didn’t make it any less crowded, and ignoring Nat didn’t make it any less loud. I know you were trying your best, but how could we have handled that better?” You should hate the way she’s speaking to you; like a child made of glass, but somehow it makes you feel better. She doesn’t sound mad anymore, there's no unspoken threat of consequences or stripped privileges, she’s just trying to get on the same page as you, trying to get you to understand where your mistakes had been so you can fix them in the future. You hate that you want more of this, whatever it is.

“Telling you.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly, trying to take away some of the blame that was becoming heavy guilt in your belly. “I didn’t think you’d listen.”

“Have we ever not listened to you?” Wanda quirks an eyebrow, and you feel properly schooled beneath the expression.

“I told you I didn’t want to come.” You tried to excuse yourself, but the lawyer was having none of your avoidance. You sighed, dropping your shoulders and focusing your attention on your cuticles, picking at the skin that had only recently begun to heal. “Nobody has ever taken me seriously before. My last girlfriend used to parade me around claiming exposure would ‘fix’ me. I didn’t think it would matter to you that I’m overstimulated.”

Wanda didn’t know much of anything about your past relationships. Whenever you talked about them, which was admittedly almost never, it was only ever Natasha who was around to witness realization crash over you like high tide. Your past romantic partners and the estranged relationship with your family had completely destroyed you, however these two successful lawyers that you found yourself entangled with were slowly putting the pieces of your broken heart back together, even if they didn’t realize just how much they were helping you.

“Do you want to leave?” Wanda didn’t dwell on your revelation, she didn’t pick it apart and hone in on all of the ways you knew that she could. She’s a lawyer, the very best one in the world, don’t tell Natasha you thought that; there were a million little things in your brief explanation that had set off alarm bells in her head, but she didn’t pry. You don’t know why you thought she would, but having the topic dropped before it was even picked up had soothed at least a fraction of your newfound worry.

The question startled you, having expected that to be the last thing she suggested, but it felt good to know that she was willing to order takeout for dinner if it meant getting you out of this situation. You wanted to leave, you desperately wanted to run to the exit at the first implication that you were allowed, but they needed groceries, and you wanted the chocolate ice cream sandwiches Natasha had promised. “No.” You whispered, shaking your head just in case she hadn’t heard you over the toddler screaming bloody murder in the juice aisle. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to sit in the cart while Nat and I finish shopping? I’ll give you back your phone and you can listen to your music until we’re done. It’s not a punishment, stop looking at me like that.” Wanda teased, and you giggled softly at her scrunched up nose and creased eyes. It was definitely a better suited look than her angry glare, and you couldn’t stop your finger from reaching out to poke her. “Did you just boop my nose?” She laughed, all of your bratty behavior forgotten about, at least for now anyways.

“It wanted to be booped. It told me.” You shrugged your shoulders, hyper aware of the fact that you’d voluntarily touched her and it hadn’t made your hand turn into flames. Your relationship was slowly on the mend, that much was undeniable, but physical touch was still something you shied away from at no fault of her own, but rather your own insecurities that needed to be worked through. “Are you gonna tell Natty I pushed you?”

“No.” Her honesty surprised you almost as much as her willingness to forgive your fatal misstep, but you nodded curtly, lips pressed into a thin line.

“I didn’t mean to. You were just too close, and Natty didn’t listen when I asked her to let go and I panicked.” You mumbled out the reason for your behavior, aware that it sounded like an excuse but there was no ounce of judgment or disbelief in Wanda’s eyes.

“I know.” She assured, and you deflated in relief. “You’re not going to do it again, if you do I will not be as forgiving, but I know you were feeling crowded, so I’m willing to let it go if you are.”

You nodded eagerly, and Wanda smiled. “Can we go find Nat now?”

As you expected, spending the night in your dorm was torturous. In the six weeks that you’d been away, you’d forgotten how your roommate snores and turns throughout the night, and her mattress was far noisier than yours had ever been. It hadn’t bothered you all that much at the start of the academic year, and maybe that had been because of your exhaustion with the adjustment and workload of seven classes instead of the typical four, or maybe you had just been able to get used to it, but now that you had discovered what true quiet sounds like when you sleep, there had not been a single ounce of rest achieved all night.

Your alarm went off at fifteen minutes to six, and you cursed whoever was cruel enough to schedule an exam for seven in the morning on a Thursday in May, but you shuffled out of bed anyway and dressed quickly in the few articles of clothing that still lingered in your dorm. Most of them had been brought to the Maximoff residence, but what hadn’t made it over because it was significantly useless with the presence of warmer weather, had been dropped off in the storage unit paid for by your mother. The woman was a flaky figure in your life at best, definitely no parent, but you appreciate her dedication to your education. She paid for your tuition, she assured you had the best meal plan and access to books and study materials, and when the seasons changed and you were let out on break, she made sure there was a safe and trustworthy place to store your belongings. She’d never once said she was proud of you, but when she asked for a report of your grades and didn’t immediately berate you, you knew that she was at least satisfied.

If you failed any of your finals, you knew there would be hell to pay. You already weren’t coming home for the summer like you usually did, and although your mother didn’t know the reason why, she was less than happy when you’d relayed the abrupt change in plans three weeks ago. She was a controlling narcissist, a woman that had brought you years of pain and suffering for her own pleasure, you knew what she was capable of the second she caught wind of academic failure, and you would not reward her the opportunity to berate you the way she did in high school when you received anything less than all A’s on your report card. It was stupid to allow a woman with no presence in your life to have so much control, but you needed to at least be perceived as a good daughter if she were going to keep paying your multi-thousand dollar bills.

The weather today was just as hot as yesterday, but there was a rise of humidity in the air that you could feel without even stepping outside. The sky looked thick and unpleasant, miraculously blue and clear, but still gross. As much as you wanted to hide away in your room and avoid the four hour exam that awaited you, it wasn’t in the cards, and so begrudgingly you laced up your shoes and grabbed your favorite pen. It was a simple pen, nothing truly special about it, but since the day you’d stolen it from Natasha’s desk, it had been used for every paper exam. The gold lettering across the black body, the name of her and Wanda’s company, was beginning to scratch and chip from the conditions you carried it through. And for being something so beloved, anyone would have thought that you’d treat it with respect, but you released copious amounts of anger and frustration on the ballpoint pen. Your teeth dug into it when you didn’t know an answer, your nails scraped at the paint when the words you had stored away in your memory felt impossible to grasp, and there were countless times that the entire pen sat dismantled and in pieces on your desk when you just needed something else to focus on for a few seconds. During one exam, you’d taken it apart mid-way through. The spring had bounced from between your fingertips and ended up halfway across the room. Your professor was a real bitch, and hadn’t let you retrieve the piece until every single person had already left and finished. You passed the exam, but not by much, and you blamed your grade on the fact that you had to finish it with a purple gel pen that was less than special. You wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Leaving your room behind, you walked to the classroom that you’d be sitting the exam in. It wasn’t a building you were familiar with, and so you packed an extra ten minutes into your schedule to avoid being late. Flowers had started to bloom in the bushes, and the grass was so much greener then it had been in the dead of winter, but there was no comfort to be sought in this environment. Your university was fine, albeit a bit bland, but Westview had become your home. You thought Wanda’s flowers smelled sweeter then the ones planted here, and the grass in their yard was the brightest shade of green you’ve ever seen. You don’t know how they have the time to take such tender care with their plants, but it made sense for them. They were busy women, women with a fast paced life and career, but there were still mundane rituals that clung to their routine. Before the contract, it had been almost impossible to imagine CEO and world-class lawyer Natasha Maximoff taking out the trash, but now you know she does it every Wednesday. It was also impossible to imagine Wanda Maximoff on her knees and covered in mud, there was never even a wrinkle in her business attire when she returned from the office after sixteen hour days, but now you’re privy to the fact that she doesn’t shy away from getting dirty when she tends to the weeds in her garden. It’s the simple things that make their company so much better then what you’ve found at Sword University, but no matter how much you wish you could be in Westview with them, no amount of heel clicking could take you there.

When you found the exam room, you noted that it was unpleasantly cold, and you cursed at your inability to have remembered to bring along a sweatshirt like Natasha had suggested. There was no consistency at school, some classrooms were blisteringly hot and you could work up a sweat in minutes just from sitting still, and some were so cold your fingers forgot how to function. It didn’t matter the season, or if you simply walked down the hallway, the temperature was never the same and it varied from room to room. You chose a desk near the windows. Not right next to them, knowing that it would get too hot if you were pressed right beside the uncovered sun, but close enough to still feel the lick of warmth as the golden beams of daylight nipped at your skin. It didn’t take much longer for your peers to start flooding in, and their presence brought another factor of warmth to the room, though it wasn’t much and some who hadn’t been lucky enough to find a seat near the windows shivered. You smiled at the familiar face of a student who had claimed the seat next to you. You didn’t have many friends, didn’t see the point in socializing when your focus needed to be academic, but you had grown fond of a few of the faces you saw every week.

“This your last exam?” Monica Rambeau asked you, leaning in closer to your desk so that you wouldn’t have to shout over the other students in the room. You had seen her around since your very first class in freshman year, and you quickly became reliant on each other for notes if one of you happened to be sick and needed to miss a lecture you shared. Your major was complex, not entirely science related but not entirely separate either. You wanted to focus more on security and technology, but for some reason your school demanded that all computer science majors take chemistry and physics. Monica was good at both, you were not. She had saved your ass with her color coded notes too many times to ever ignore her small-talk.

“Thankfully.” You laughed, tapping your pen against your desk anxiously. “I’m moving the rest of my shit out next week and then I’m spending the summer in Westview. What about you?”

The brunette shook her head, and you winced in sympathy. As grueling as it had been to have most of your exams scheduled in the same week, save for the three classes that had requested papers and projects from you, it was nice to be done so soon into the exam period. You knew that some other unfortunate students would be stuck here for at least another week. “I have two more tomorrow, then I’m heading back to Louisiana. You ready for this?”

“Not at all.” You laughed, though your jittery leg and fidgeting fingers easily gave away just how anxious you were. “Sitwell hasn’t made sense a day in his life, I doubt the exam will be any more coherent than his lectures.”

Monica laughed loudly at your acquisition, but she nodded eagerly in agreement. “Tell me about it. I’ve been going over your study sheet for the last two weeks and I think I just barely understand the content from chapter one.”

Your attention snapped to the door when it snapped open again, but unlike the last handful of times, it wasn’t a student that entered, it was your Professor Jasper Sitwell himself, and in his hands were thick bundles of paper that would determine the next year of your life. If you failed this exam, you could kiss your paid for tuition goodbye. You appreciated Monica’s attention to body language, because she seemed to get the hint that you were in no mood to continue your conversation now that Sitwell had arrived. She still offered you a smile though, a whispered ‘good luck’, before she turned straight in her desk and placed three colored pens down firmly. Leave it to Monica to remain dedicated to her color coding even at the end of the semester.

The time had flown by after that. You’d groaned when you saw that the estimated time of this exam would be four hours, but now you felt like that wasn’t nearly enough. The first six pages of questions had come easily to you, though it was still challenging and you doubted that most of your answers were entirely correct, but the last page had stumped you rather quickly and entirely. You jumped between questions, filling in pieces of information when they came to mind, but nothing could jog your memory when you were confronted with the very last question of the exam. Your brows furrowed, a sheen of perspiration clung to your skin. Was it a trick question? No, a professor wouldn’t purposefully stump you when so much was on the line. Despite your confidence in Sitwell, you’re absolutely certain that you’ve never gone over any materials that even slightly relate to the last topic. You’ve read the textbook forward and backwards, you practically dreamed about this course material, but you had never seen these words present in any of the lectures.

Your hand shot up from the desk before you could stop yourself, but by time you realized you were seeking attention from Sitwell, he had called you up to the front of the room. A glance at the clock on the wall beside the door told you there was just under twenty minutes left. By this point in an exam, most students would have been gone, but every single one of them still remained, and although you weren’t intentionally looking at anyone’s paper, the few that you had seen had all been open on the last page. You weren’t the only one confused.

“How can I help you, Ms. Y/L/N?” Sitwell kept his voice quiet, and like always, detached. You wondered how a man who seemed to hate every person even remotely younger than himself had found a profession in teaching, but you didn’t let his attitude deter you from asking anyway. This question could very easily make you seem like an idiot, but you were confident in yourself, and well, Jasper Sitwell seemed exactly the type to make a mistake like this.

Matching his quiet tone, assuring that only the first row of students could hear you, you laid your exam in front of him and pointed out the question. “This isn’t related to your course, sir. It’s not in the textbook, and we’ve never gone over it in a lecture.”

You waited for the moment he berated you for questioning his exam but it never came. When you grew the balls to look up at him, you found a smirk of satisfaction on his lips. “You’re correct. That question has no value in this course. It’s been on my exam for the last ten years and nobody has ever questioned me. Congratulations, Ms. Y/L/N, it seems somebody has finally read the textbook.”

A look of sheer bewilderment crossed your face, but Sitwell gave you no chance to speak again before he promptly took the exam from your hands and kept it at his side. Anxiety shot through your stomach when you realized that he wasn’t going to give it back to you. There was still thirteen minutes left on the clock, and you’d intended to spend every last second meticulously checking your work until he had to pry it from your fingertips when time ran out. So much could be wrong about your answers, you could’ve missed a question or twenty, and now you’d have no way of knowing because he wouldn’t give it back.

“Be on your way.” He nodded toward the door when you didn’t budge. There was no use arguing with him, he never listened anyways, but you couldn’t just walk away without checking over your paper one last time.

“Sir, I still have time to go over my answers.” You weakly protested, a single palm extended in the direction of your exam, hoping that for once he was willing to budge. No luck, his jaw clenched and his eyes hardened, and you took that as a sign to get the hell out of dodge before he did something drastic like rip your exam in half. You would never be taking another class from him again, if you even got the chance to finish your degree.

With a sigh of defeat, you headed back to your desk, collected your lucky pen, and waved subtly in Monica’s direction before you headed to the door and broke away from anything and everything even remotely related to academics for the next three months.

Ever since childhood, you have adored the sight of the sun in the spring and summer months. Not in the middle of the day when it was blinding and heavy, but toward the approach of night when everything it’s surface could touch was brightened by ripples of violet and peach presence. Tonight had been the first expanse of light across the shoretown the Maximoff’s lived in, and though they’d both been home all day with a rare break from office obligations, their cars were warm to the touch when you passed by them in the driveway.

Despite the warm air and lingerance of sunshine off in the horizon, your disposition was reflective of the colder times when attitudes clashed and people let themselves fall inward. You’d been blind to the change in mood as a child. There was no bad time of year when you were seven and strangers stopped to compliment your velcro shoes as they passed, but now that adulthood had claimed what remained of your innocence, you’d been shown the true nature of winter and fall. The first time you realized that strangers were nicer in the summer, you’d been fifteen. Admittedly, that was a bit old to only just be realizing that life was cruel and people were snobs, but you’d always been an optimist; you still are an optimist. You vowed to never become someone so mean after that day, but that was yet another promise you had failed to keep for yourself.

Your face is set in a permanent scowl, which seems to be the new normal as Wanda and Natasha move about around you. Your arms are crossed in front of your chest, your eyes staring straight ahead of you at the movie that’s playing in the background. They’re attempting to get the house straightened up, something about hosting a barbeque over the weekend and not wanting to leave the mess to deal with at a later date. Had you been in a better mood, you would’ve offered to help, would’ve laughed and joked along with them, but the unknown of your last exam has firmly pushed you over the edge and now every minor inconvenience is working on your last available nerve.

Wanda laughs at something Natasha whispers in her ear, the two of them somehow always finding a reason to gravitate toward one another despite the many different tasks that still needed to be accomplished. You didn’t think the house was as messy as Wanda claimed, but you hadn’t offered her that briefest sentence of reassurance. When you walked in, defeat heavy on your shoulders as you over analyzed the exchange between yourself and Professor Sitwell, you’d wanted nothing more than to fall into Natasha’s lap and let her distract you however she saw fit. She had, for a couple minutes at least, but then she’d pushed you out of her embrace and had started helping Wanda around the house. The Sokovian was practically on a mission to regain some order, dusting bookshelves and tables, collecting stray blankets that had made their way into the living room and across random furniture pieces. It hadn’t looked messy, just lived in, but that wasn’t good enough.

“Can you lift your feet for a second?” The taller of the pair looked at you expectantly, the neck of their expensive vacuum clutched between her ringed fingers. She hadn’t been the slightest bit deterred by your poor attitude when you came barreling into the house and hadn’t even offered her so much as a hello before you plopped down in Natasha’s lap and dug your face into her neck, and she had even let you put your feet up on her coffee table when eventually the Russian left your side start cleaning. She had been very patient with you, knowing how nervous you were about the exam and your results, but much like yours, her patience wasn’t unlimited. “I asked you a question, I expect an answer.”

You huffed, readjusting yourself on the couch, though you still didn’t move your legs out of her way. Natasha watched the scene unfold with an uninterpretable expression in her eyes. She was aware of how you’d been testing Wanda more and more as the weeks went by, and she had warned you that it was only a matter of time before the woman snapped and dealt with your attitude by her own measures. Three weeks ago, that would’ve been enough to scare you into submission, but you had shrugged off her warning to stop pushing boundaries, entirely uninterested in the conversation she was trying to have.

Wanda sighed and let go of the vacuum, resting it against the couch to be grabbed again later. You’d expected her to move onto a different task, maybe even march her way upstairs until you changed your attitude, but when her hands grabbed at your ankles and harshly removed them from the coffee table, you gasped in shock and flinched away from her touch, a glare settled in her direction.

“Stop!” You whined, kicking your foot out in her direction as a weak attempt at retaliation, but you made no attempt to put them back on the coffee table. Instead, you extended them outward, taking up almost the entire length of the couch. Not that it mattered, neither one of them were planning on sitting down with you anytime soon. Wanda quirked an eyebrow down at you, an expression that you were getting seriously tired of, before she reached for the remote and turned off the television. “I was watching that!” You cried out in annoyance, reaching for the remote that was held away from your hands.

“Good girls get to watch movies.” She simply stated and handed the remote over to Natasha, who seemed to know exactly where it needed to go. The remote was promptly placed on one of the highest shelves in the room, and the fact that it had been done on purpose because she knew you wouldn’t be able to reach that high without a stool only angered you further.

“So what? You’re gonna ground me? I’m not a child.” You snapped at her, your voice tinged with what could only be described as pure venom. The snarky comments you’d been making for days seemed like child's play now, at least then you’d had the decency to show her some semblance of respect, but now, there wasn’t an ounce of anything kind in your tone.

“If you’re going to act like one, I’m going to treat you like one. I have been more than patient with you, even though you’re being nothing short of a brat. My willingness to ignore your little attitude will not last much longer, so I suggest you get over yourself before I have you over my lap.” Her words should’ve scared you, they should’ve worked as a last ditch effort to get you to behave, but if anything, it only spurred you on further. You were beyond the point of simply wanting some kind of punishment. Unlike in recent days when it had been a tickle at the back of your mind, now you desperately needed it. The end of the semester always felt like the biggest relief until it actually came, and you were left with no productive purpose to fulfill. You needed a push in the right direction, and now that you had been introduced to this dynamic, where Natasha was more than willing to make decisions for you and take care of you, you wanted to fall right into that state of comfort and control. Your mind wouldn’t let you stop thinking though, and no matter how hard you pleaded with yourself to just let her take the reins, control would not be so easily relinquished. It had been weeks since your last spanking. Days since the last time she had fucked you hard enough to cause you to slip into subspace. For months you’d been shown and taught about the beauty of this dynamic, and it was just suddenly beginning to fall away. You knew that you didn’t need to be naughty to receive a spanking, knew that if you asked she’d be more than happy to provide it, but you didn’t want to need her just to feel content. It was like a double-edged sword had rammed its way into your brain and every time you turned your head you fought between completely surrendering control and always maintaining it.

“If I’m a brat then you’re a bitch.” You met Wanda’s stare, there was no backing down now. You were so close to what you wanted, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to care that it wasn’t Natasha you were seeking it from. Ever since that night curled up in her arms when the world felt like it was ending, something was undeniably different. You didn’t want to crave her but you did, and the longer she refused to play into your games, the more you wanted her. She was scary when she was mad, terrifying when she was livid, but somehow you had crossed both of those thresholds in only one sentence. There was something dark in her eyes that you’d never seen before, and it made your stomach twist into knots knowing that you were the sole reason she had lost her happy spark. She radiated dominance, expelled the radiant energy of someone who knew they had control, even if for the briefest second, you had been foolish enough to think you were the one with it. It wasn’t anger or frustration in her eyes, although they were both present, but rather dominance. You’d seen her be dominant, you’d been scolded by her many times, but it had always been concealed. She had always remained respectful of your boundaries and control to Natasha only, but you had pushed her too far. Things had changed too much. Neither of you were the women you had been at the start of this situation, and it was only a matter of time before the carpet rolled beneath your feet and you had to face the music.

“Get upstairs.” She demanded of you, and for the first time since showing up, you didn’t have the words to fight. You scrambled off the couch and practically flew toward the stairs, only to stop halfway up when you realized you didn’t know where she wanted you to go.

“Our bedroom, honey.” Natasha called after you, having watched the entire thing unfold. Now that you realized what position you had walked yourself into, there was anxiety flooding your desperate gaze as you pleaded with her to save you. Natasha wouldn’t save you this time though. She had warned you, told you that you wouldn’t like the trap you were walking yourself into, but you hadn’t listened. “I’ll be up to talk with you in a second, it’s okay.”

“Y/N, if you are not in that room in the next twenty seconds, I will not be so kind as to give you the choice about what I spank your ass with.” Wanda’s voice was level, it didn’t waver like you knew yours would if you even dared to try and speak. You nodded frantically, scrambling to get up the stairs and into their bedroom before the countdown in your head got down to zero.

You didn’t know what to do once you were inside, didn’t know if you should close the door or leave it open, didn’t know if you should sit on the bed or continue to stand beside it. You’d never been alone in their bedroom, it felt like an odd invasion of privacy now that you were. Your mind reeled with endless possibilities, though none of them pleasant. Wanda was going to spank you, she had practically promised that, but what else would she do? Would she make you terminate your contract with Natasha because you’d called her a bitch? Would she slap you around like your father had done when you’d ever dared to disrespect him so aggressively? Tears pricked your eyes at all of your unanswered questions, and you noted that this feeling in your belly was distinctly different then the times when Natasha pulled you over her lap. You’d gotten a handful of punishments before, of course you have because even though you like being good for her, it’s still fun to act out, but those punishments had always been light with the unspoken promise of sexual relief afterward. This was the first time you’d ever actually been punished outside of sexual interactions. This was the first time you’d ever pissed Wanda off enough to be the one who dealt the cards. So much was changing and you couldn’t keep up, but really there was nothing for you to keep up with. You didn’t know what would happen next, you had never been in this situation before.

The floorboards creaked beneath footsteps, and you noted that just beyond the window not covered by blinds, the sunshine had finally settled. Nothing was left to see beside darkened skies and the roofs of all of the other houses on the block, though even then the sight was void of any actual interest. The Maximoff residence was the largest on the block, and it towered over the houses that sat on both sides of it. You’d always thought that CEO’s lived in big lavish mansions, but Wanda and Natasha had chosen a perfectly normal town to settle down in. They had expensive cars, sure, but that wasn’t even a fraction of the money they had. They were total anomalies, and that fact was only making you grow more uneasy.

“Detka.” Natasha sighed, and you were thankful it was only her that had entered. Had Wanda been with her, you would’ve spiral face down into a panic attack that couldn’t be stopped. “I warned you, did I not?”

You sighed, knowing that there was no time for her to give you all the reassurances you needed. Wanda was being kind enough to let Natasha check in on you, but you doubted she had the patience to sit downstairs for hours as you pleaded with your dominant to give you answers even she didn’t have. “J-Just tell me what’s gonna happen. I need to know what’s going to happen.”

“She’s going to spank you, and then she’s going to hold you, and reassure you that you’re okay. No different from what I do. Are you okay with her spanking you? I know we’ve talked about it, but this isn’t the funishment you thought you’d be getting when we agreed to those conditions, huh?” Natasha collected you into her arms, being surprisingly gentle with you despite the fact that you had just called her wife a bitch. You shook your head against her chest, fisting her loose fitting t-shirt in your heads, fearing that she would pull away far too early for your liking.

“I wanted you to spank me.” You admitted sheepishly into her touch, sighing softly when her fingers tangled into your hair and gently worked out the knots that lingered near the ends. “I’ve been good and you’ve been… soft. And I just can’t get my brain to be quiet, and I wanted you to spank me so I kept trying to push your buttons and you just kept forgiving me.”

“Daddy’s been pretty lenient with you, hasn’t she?” Natasha cooed, not placing blame on your shoulders even though you knew she very easily could have. You nodded in response to her question, feeling better now that she was aware of the root cause of your attitude, even if that didn’t save you from Wanda’s wrath. “You’ve been breaking a lot of rules, rules that Wanda’s aware of.”

“She’s gonna give me ten for every one, isn’t she?” You winced, knowing that this would not be a pleasant experience and your ass was sure to hurt every time you sat down for at least the next week.

“She is, and it’s going to hurt. It’s supposed to hurt, but she’s not going to push you farther than you can handle. What do you call if you need a break?” Natasha asked sweetly, pulling your face away from her chest and holding your cheeks in her hands, forcing you to look up into her eyes and see that there's no lingering resentment or anger.

“Yellow.” You answered, the word engraved in your brain despite having never needed to call it. “Red if I need it to stop completely. But… we’re not playing.”

“Just because she’s not going to touch you after doesn’t mean that it’s okay for her to break you, detka. Is that what you thought was going to happen?” Natasha frowns, her lips turning deeper downward when you nodded as an answer.

“My dad… punished me with violence. He didn’t stop until he wanted to. You’ve only ever punished me sexually, not because I purposely broke the outside rules.” You whispered, another hint at your traumatic past hanging in the air. “I called her a bitch. I tried to kick her. I pushed her in the store yesterday.” You admitted, though when there was no reaction, you guessed that Wanda had already told her.

“Because you needed space. She is not going to punish you for that. She’s going to punish you because you were being disrespectful, and because you need it, huh? You need help getting that brain to shut off. You did so many big things this week, I bet it’s not that easy to just come back to this dynamic and allow us to take control when you’ve been the one in charge all week.” Natasha whispered knowingly, a glint in her eyes that reassured you of her understanding. “Finals are stressful. When Wanda and I were in college, we used to go at each other until we were red in the face and then we’d move on like nothing happened. We get it, milaya. We don’t expect you to be good at this yet, or to know how to ask for what you need. You can stop thinking the world is going to end because you made a mistake.”

“I meant to call her a bitch, but I didn’t actually mean it.” You admitted softly and Natasha chuckled, pulling you in closer and laying a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“We both know what you meant, malyshka. She’s not downstairs brewing in anger, even though I’m sure that’s what you’re thinking. This dynamic is not about fear and power. I should’ve explained that better. You have all the power here, honey, but just like you can call red, so can she. It’s a balance, a team effort. You got it?”

“I got it.” You sighed, leaning into her touch, wishing you could just surrender to this moment for the rest of your life, but there was no way that was happening. As daunting as it was, you needed Wanda to punish you. You want to let go of the guilt, you want to relinquish control and just listen to what they ask of you. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you need to be apologizing to, but it’s okay. You did nothing wrong, even if I don’t exactly like you calling my wife a bitch.” She teased, her fingers leaving your cheeks to trail down toward your ribs where she knows your ticklish. You shrieked in response, wiggling away from her fingers just in time for Wanda to knock on the open bedroom door and announce her presence.

She was significantly calmer then she had been downstairs, and that faint lick of anger in her eyes had settled to dust, but she still captivated you and sought for your submission. Her eyes were green, you forced yourself to remember that fact. They weren’t overcome with blackness like all the other times you’ve awaited punishment, but thoughts of your childhood didn’t even come to mind as you let yourself be present in this moment. This was not your childhood. The second you needed this to stop, or you needed her to slow down, you had to say one simple word and it would. As much as this act was about you giving over control, you knew that the reality was you would never be fully powerless.

You didn’t know what to say, if you should even say anything at all, so you merely waved your hand in Wanda’s direction, not wanting to completely ignore her. She smiled softly at you, not softening her body language, but at least her face mirrored your greeting.

“Hi, malen’kaya.” She laughed softly, and you were relieved to find that Natasha had been being honest about Wanda not brewing in her anger, though you hadn’t really doubted her, just needed that validation for yourself. “You talk to Natty?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded your head, unaware of how your hand still tangled in the fabric of Natasha’s t-shirt gripped onto her harshly. It was an unconscious thing, but was quickly soothed by a kiss being placed into your hairline.

“I’m gonna be right here, ангел. If I think you need to call red and you’re not doing it yourself, I’m going to call it. Nothing bad is going to happen.” She promised, and you felt better at the proposition that she’d be looking out for you as well.

“That was quite the show you put on downstairs.” Wanda mused, her face back to that blank slate of dominance that made your palms clammy. You stepped closer to Natasha, just barely managing to nod your head at her admission. “Come with me.”

“Go ahead, I’ll still be here.” Natasha sent you toward Wanda with a gentle shove, and when you looked back at her over your shoulder, she merely smiled in reassurance.

Wanda led you over to the walk-in closet You’d never been inside, but you’d seen Natasha disappear into it after a scene, usually when she was scrounging around to find a specific cooling lotion for your ass. Wanda didn’t make any efforts to invade your space, giving you time to accept your fate on your own accord. The space was large, and there were no shortage of dresses and suits hung up on the taller racks. You smiled softly at a purple suit in the corner, wondering which of the two women it belonged to.

“That’s Natasha’s.” Wanda hummed, seeming to follow your eye toward the suit. “That’s not why we're in here though.”

You nodded, pulling your eye away from the suit in favor of following whatever box Wanda was pointing out. It was large and black, one of the only objects in the closet that looked like it didn’t really belong. She walked over to it, getting down on her knees and motioning for you to do the same.

“I can either spank you with my hand, or with a paddle.” You swallowed thickly at your options, but nodded your head and looked down at the case that Wanda had pulled open. Your eyes practically bulged out of your head at the sight of so many sex toys, but Wanda merely laughed at your flushed cheeks. “Natasha isn’t much a fan of being paddled. It stings and will burn for longer than a hand spanking does, but she has received plenty of both.” There’s a tinge of fond exasperation in Wanda’s words that make you think Natasha is better at asking for what she needs than you are, and that most of the spankings Wanda’s internally recounting aren’t all derived from punishment. You remember the conversation you had weeks ago, where Wanda had confirmed that Natasha was the submissive in their relationship.

“I don’t want that.” You whispered, shaking your head adamantly. “Never.”

“Okay. That’s perfectly okay. Not everyone likes instruments being used for a spanking. This is the lotion I’m going to put on you afterward. It’s the same one Natasha uses, but I want you to know what to expect.” Wanda gives you the bottle, and you don’t even bother to look down at it, entirely focused on her face. There’s something different about her like this, so easily dominant and captivating, you want to commit this new energy to memory. “You’re going to get fifty spanks. If you need to slow down, or if you need to stop, I expect that you call your safewords. If I need to stop, I’m going to call mine. Part of your punishment is that you will not be receiving an orgasm afterward. You're lucky I haven’t taken them away for the next week.”

You gulped, suddenly remembering that this was a punishment, although you didn’t know how you could have forgotten that fact. Wanda smirked in amusement at your flushed features, and tenderly she reached up to smoothing stray strands of hair away from your face. “Can I kiss you?” She asked quietly, and although it was Wanda not Natasha, you nodded eagerly. You didn’t hate her, you didn’t dislike her, you wanted her just as badly as you wanted Natasha. You didn’t know how you’d been so blind to that fact for so long. “Words, detka.”

“Yes.” You breathed out, already leaning into her touch when she set her hands on your cheeks and pulled your face into hers. Her lips were soft beneath yours, softer than Natasha’s, and she tasted like the fakest cherries. Her tongue swiped across your bottom lip, asking for entrance rather than demanding it. You didn’t hesitate to let her in, moaning softly into her mouth when her hot and heavy tongue licked against yours and officially claimed you the way you had seen it do to Natasha on a handful of occasions.

You don’t know how many minutes had passed as you sat on the floor of the walk-in closet, but when Wanda finally pulled away from you, her chest rising and falling faster than it had been before, your cheeks were flush for more than one reason.

“You can’t kiss me like that after you tell me I’m not allowed to cum tonight.” You whined softly, squirming on the floor as your arousal made its presence known between your legs. Wanda laughed in amusement, a dangerous smirk playing on her lips.

“I guess little girls need to learn how to behave if they want something from Mommy then.” The softest inch of her accent had drifted into the words, and if that wasn’t enough to send a rush of pleasure straight to your core, the added bonus of her title was. You whined desperately, your thighs rubbing together as you sought out even a second of relief. Flashes of Natasha teasing you on the phone came to mind, and the lust in your eyes only intensified. “Enough.” Wanda scolded, “I want you naked and bent over the bed in the next three minutes.”

You nodded obediently, having done enough arguing for the night. You got to your feet with the same grace as bambi, practically bolting out of the closet and into the bedroom. You giggled softly when you realized that your first kiss with the lawyer who was very proudly a lesbian had been in a closet of all places.

“There’s no way whatever happened in that closet deserves to be laughed about.” Natasha quirked an eyebrow in your direction, though it was significantly less scary then when Wanda did it. She watched you strip out of your clothes hurriedly, not sparing the few minutes you had been given to fold them nicely in a pile.

“Your wife is a lesbian.” You deadpanned, though you knew Natasha was very much aware of that fact if the felt pride flag in what you assumed was Wanda’s side of the closet had ever caught her attention.

“Yes, thank you for stating the obvious.”

“And she just kissed me in the closet.” You giggled, and Natasha couldn’t say that she wasn’t equally as amused as you were, but she had the decency to control her laughter in front of Wanda, who you hadn’t even realized was standing right behind you.

“If you don’t want me to add another ten onto your fifty, you’ll bend your ass over my bed and stop making me wait.” Your blood went cold and your spine straightened as you felt the softest trace of Wanda’s warm breath against the shell of your ear. The warning didn’t need to be whispered twice, because you were already scrambling to get into position, a lot less nervous then you had been before. “I want you to count them all. If you miss one, I add two more.”

“Okay.” You whispered, already fisting the comforter in your hands, waiting for the first strike to land against your uncovered ass. You didn’t even have it in your to be embarrassed about Wanda seeing you so exposed, just wanting to get this situation over with so that you could fall face first into Natasha’s chest.

“Is that how we address our dominants now?” Wanda practically growled, standing so closer to you that you could feel the heat of her body radiating onto yours.

“Yes, Mommy.” You fixed your mistake, your eyes pinched closed as you pushed your hips backward until they met her thighs, unconsciously seeking relief for your clit that was pulsing between your legs. You shrieked in surprise when she abruptly stepped away and laid the first hit onto your left cheek in only a matter of seconds. It didn’t take a genius to know that Wanda was well practiced in this domain. The spank was hard, significantly harder then Natasha had ever started out with, and you knew you were in for it with the promise of forty-nine more to come. “One, Mommy.”

Your grip on the comforter got tighter and tighter with each spank that came next until your knuckles were white and your chin trembled from the onslaught of pain. At the thirteenth spank, you moaned in pleasure, and your hips bucked backward desperately searching for pressure between your thighs that never came and wouldn’t come. Wanda’s laughter was anything but genuine behind you, and you didn’t even want to imagine what you must look like to her; bent over the bed she shares with her wife, your ass pink from the assault of her palm, and arousal dampening the insides of your thighs.

“So much for not having a pain kink.” She mused, though she wasn’t really talking to you. Natasha was sitting at the head of the bed with a smug gleam in her eyes, and you knew the sight of you like this was turning her on, if the dilation in her pupils was any indication of that fact. “Little slut is dripping.” You gasped when soft fingers ran over your ass, dipping lower and lower until they found your empty entrance that begged for anything to fill it, be it a dildo or the fingers of the woman who was responsible for pushing you into this state. “Do you like when Mommy hits you?”

“Yes.” You whine, not even attempting to keep your hips still as Wanda collects your arousal on the tips of her fingers, but like promised, never reaches your clit. You cried out your protests when her fingers left your core, only for you to gasp in shock when she leaned forward on the bed and fed them expectantly to Natasha who let her mouth fall open in acceptance.

The redhead moaned at the taste of you on her tongue, lapping at Wanda’s fingers until they were clean of your excitement. A needy moan left your lips seeing the blissful expression on the face of your dominant, and desperately you reached out for her hand that laid next to yours overtop of the white blankets on the bed. She let you grasp it, let you squeeze it and pull at it, but she never leaned in any closer to you. This was a punishment, you would not be rewarded midway through.

Wanda’s additional weight caused the bed to dip, and you had to readjust your stance to keep from slipping onto the floor. She wasn’t behind you anymore, rather perched on the bed beside your body, leaning in close to her wife whose lips shone in the dim lighting of the room with traces of your arousal. Wanda kissed her deeply, the wet sounds their moving mouths made taunting you further, and you groaned in response to their teasing. The lawyer who hadn’t even gotten halfway through your punishment moaned at the taste of you on her tongue, only pulling away from Natasha when she needed a break for air.

She was back behind the second she was breathing normally, and the fourteenth spank came in the same place her thirteenth one had. You counted out the spanks as they came, but other than the contact her palm made with your ass, you were properly ignored. If Wanda made a comment, it was directed to Natasha, and the one time you had been bold enough to answer for yourself, you had been met with a spank to the back of your thigh that was admittedly very soft and careful.

It was after twenty that you no longer found pleasure in her hits, and your moans and whines had turned to cries and sobs. Natasha held your hand firmly, her thumb rubbing against your knuckles as you took your punishment well. Wanda was proud of you, even if she hadn’t told you that yet.

“F-forty!” You sobbed out, arching away from the lawyer's hand only seconds after it came down on your ass. Your entire body ached from the position you were half-stood in, your cunt pulsed with need, but your ass was on fire and you had no doubt that it would be bruised by sunrise tomorrow. “Please.” You cried out, but you didn’t even know what you were begging for.

“You’re doing so good. You’re doing so good for me, milaya.” Wanda soothed you quickly and effectively, her tone soft and gentle as she let you have your feelings. The heavy hand that had been assaulting your skin for the last twenty minutes if the clock on her bedside table was accurate was suddenly soft as she rubbed soft circles on your ass, soothing the sting into a more bearable ache. “Ten more and then we can cuddle. Why don’t you let Natty’s hand go and she’ll go get you some water.”

“N-No! No! Natty stay!” You held onto her desperately, like even the suggestion of her leaving would make it come true.

“I’m staying, malyshka. I’m staying.” Natasha assured you, scooting closer to your trembling body so she could lay a hand on your naked back, her firm touch grounding you in this moment where both of your dominants were with you. “You’re okay. You’re being so good. Such a good girl. Ten more baby, think you can do that?”

You nodded albeit weakly, and Wanda took that as her sign to keep going, to get this over with so that she could put her efforts into comforting you. It was on the last spank that you had crumbled completely, going limp against the bed as you sobbed in relief. You made the decision that you never wanted to piss Wanda off to this extent again.

“Good girl. You were so good. Took your spanking so well.” Wanda helped you stand up, spinning you around so that her eyes could meet yours for the first time in half an hour.

“Mommy.” You sobbed, falling face first into her chest, clutching the fabric of her shirt in your trembling fists. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You repeated it like a mantra, sobs and sniffles the only other audible sound that you could hear. You didn’t recognize Wanda praising you for taking your punishment so well, you didn’t hear her whisper of a promise that it was over and you were forgiven. You hadn’t even realized that Natasha had promptly left the bedroom and gone down to the kitchen to retrieve water and a snack if you wanted it.

“Hey, hey. Look at me, look at Mommy.” Wanda coaxed your attention up at her, pulling your face out of the pit of darkness you had found against her chest. “You’re okay. It’s over. It’s all over.”

You nodded weakly, letting Wanda guide you into the middle of the bed and onto your belly. As promised, she rubbed the cooling lotion into your skin, mumbling soft praises beneath her breath whenever you flinched away from the contact. The soft cooling effect hadn’t taken long to set in, and when it did, it was like an immediate sense of relief had washed over your senses, though everything was still foggy and far away. You only barely recognized Natasha sitting down beside you, but you whined in protest when she tried to pull you into her side, reaching out to Wanda with a pleading look in your eyes that neither one of them could ignore.

It hurt to sit, that was putting it lightly, but you forced yourself up into a sitting position so that you could accept the bottle of water Natasha offered. She held it up to your lips as you gulped it down quickly, finishing half the bottle before she pulled it away, worried that you’d upset your stomach if you drank it all so quickly. Wanda had laid down beside you, forcing you onto her chest to alleviate the discomfort in your bottom. With your head on her chest, your legs between hers, your eyes searched for Natasha as she moved around the room, collecting pajamas and a wet washcloth that would be used to clean up the unfixed mess between your legs.

The first pass of the warm fabric between your legs had rubbed against your clit accidentally, and you moaned in pleasure that was quickly taken away. “Sorry, sweetheart. Not tonight.” She shushed your cries softly, though it didn’t make you any happier. You wiggled against Wanda at the uncomfortable feeling you weren’t used to being left with, and she didn’t try to stop you from rubbing your legs together.

“Tomorrow.” She whispered against your temple when you grew frustrated at not being able to fully satisfy the ache. “The more you move the worse it’s going to get. Mommy will take care of you tomorrow, just rest for right now. Close your eyes, detka.”

When Wanda’s finger attempted to wipe the fallen tears off your cheeks, you were quick to capture the finger between your teeth, and she didn’t even stop you. She smiled down at your flushed face, feeling more than content with your current clinginess. She knew you were down pretty far in that floaty headspace Natasha managed to ease you into every so often, and pride swelled in her chest knowing you were comfortable enough to allow her the privilege of not only seeing you this way, but making you this way.

“Ten bucks says she doesn’t leave your side tomorrow.” Natasha had hummed softly once she was sure you were asleep, only half dressed in the pajamas she had pulled out of the dresser for you. The shorts on your legs were a pair of hers, but you had been adamant against her putting the t-shirt on your body when you realized it entailed pulling away from Wanda’s chest.

Wanda rolled her eyes, though there was a fond smile on her lips that gave away her true feelings about this shift in your dynamic. Not perfect, but getting there. “I’m not making a deal, I know I’ll lose, Romanoff.”

“It’s Maximoff. Or did you forget?” Natasha quirked an auburn eyebrow, mirroring the expression Wanda had mastered after years of practice. She leaned over your body, careful not to jostle you too much and rouse you from slumber, and she kissed her wide softly, though the taste of your arousal still clung to her taste buds, and when Wanda realized, she shoved her away.

“If you keep kissing me when you taste like her I’ll never be taken seriously again.” The Sokovian warned, already addicted to the taste of your arousal, though she took punishment seriously, and it wouldn't be until the early afternoon settled overtop of Westview tomorrow when you found out just how good she is with her tongue.

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honeybuckin10 · 2 months ago

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Hospital Beds - a Hawks x fem!doctor!reader One Shot

Summary: Hawks heals more than his wings after the Paranormal Liberation War attacks [wc: 4.6k].

Warnings: mentions of mental health struggles, mentions of character death, descriptions of wounds, swearing, angst, fluff, comfort, potentially unpopular Hawks opinions. characters slightly aged up.

a/n: started writing thinking this was gonna be cute and flirty, ended up taking a kind of serious turn (still otherwise cute and flirty with happy-ish ending). might do a spicier part 2 at some point. as always, don’t be a ghost reader pls and ty <3

Hawks’ eyes were focused on the window, lost in thought. There was a crowd gathered outside Central Hospital. From the muffled voices through the glass, it didn’t sound like they were there for support. He felt the span of his back against the hospital bed, a sensation both foreign and grounding. The space where his wings once were stung slightly at the contact, despite the heavy nerve blockers he assumed were administered earlier.

“Back again so soon?”

You broke him from his trance as you shut the door behind you. Your eyes immediately scanned his monitors, a pleasant smile never leaving your face.

“At some point, we really do have to get your heart rate checked out.”

He didn’t actually have a high heart rate. But the machines he was hooked up to always went crazy whenever he got sight of you. He was too embarrassed to say anything, though he wondered if you noticed why his charts never reflected any underlying conditions when his vitals were checked by others.

“You’re not a very good patient, you know. Though now that you can’t talk, perhaps you’ll actually listen.”

He tried to respond, but quickly remembered he couldn’t open his jaw, not very much at least. No sound came out of the small gap between his lips.

You had treated Hawks on several occasions now, usually after incidents involving fire. Most were minor. He’d come in and joke that he’d done it on purpose to see you. You’d roll your eyes, every now and then you’d even dignify him with an actual response: ‘nice try’. But his injuries now were unlike anything you’d ever seen. You knew it was bad when he didn’t try flirting with you. Then again, it’s not like he could even if he wanted to.

Your tone was light and breezy, but the furrow in your brow betrayed your façade.

“I’m only joking, of course. But in all seriousness, your trachea was severely damaged from the smoke inhalation during the attack. Fortunately you narrowly avoided respiratory failure, but you won’t be able to use your voice for a couple of weeks. Lucky for you, technology has advanced enough that you won’t have to carry around a notepad everywhere you go. We recommend using the voice app on your phone.”

You handed him his cell phone, when Hawks noticed a plastic bag of personal items behind you with unknown origins. You followed his eyes to see what was distracting him.

“Oh yes, a young man named Tokoyami brought you a change of clothes and some other things you may need while you were out. Said he was your mentee.” You paused, searching for some kind of reaction. You thought it might brighten his spirits. His eyes widened somewhat, but there was still no smile. “It’s clear you’ve had a big impact on him.”

Tokoyami. His mentee. A child. More memories of the battlefield came flooding back. Twice. Dabi. He knew you hoped that bringing up his pupil would put him at ease. But Hawks was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt that he had put the student is such a dangerous situation.

“I also spoke with Dermatology. They informed me that sixteen percent of your body is covered with third degree burns, another twenty percent second degree, and twenty-two percent first degree. Given the severity and location of the burns, you’re also at risk of developing contractures that could compress your airways in the future so we’ll need to keep a close eye on that. Once your wraps come off, they’ve prescribed you a topical treatment that you’re to use three times a day until everything is healed. You’ll also be started on an oral antibiotic immediately, which you’re to take for three weeks.”

He attempted to use his new voice.

“What about wings?” You took a deep breath. Not good.

“I’m getting to that. I’m going to adjust your bed a little first. Are you able to lean forward?” He nodded as the bed rose up and the angle of his back moved more upright. He winced, unable to hide his discomfort but did as you instructed.

“I’m sorry, I know this is painful for you. I’m going as quickly as I can.” You talked through how you were examining his dressings, that his biggest risk at the moment was that the wounds would get infected, and that the dressings would need to be changed again before the end of the day.

“I think they will grow back. But it will be painful and it will be slow. You must be patient during this time and you’ll have to stay out of the field for a while. I’d recommend taking a well-deserved break until they’re fully healed.”

Bedrest sounded like Hawks’ personal hell. He only nodded his head. He didn’t have the energy to protest.

“You’ll also need to go through a psychiatric evaluation before rejoining field.”

Hawks let out a muffled groan. You let out an exasperated laugh.

“Really, you didn’t make a peep when I was examining your open wounds but you draw the line at psych eval?” You watched as he typed out his next thought.

“Waste of time.” Your eyes softened.

“First of all, this is standard procedure. Endeavor, Mirko, Eraserhead, all those UA students are going to have to get one too. Second, even if it wasn’t, what you – what you’ve all gone through would cause even the strongest soldier some kind of stress. We want to make sure that you’re all in the right headspace so that you’re the most prepared you can be going against whatever this enemy is. You have to take care of yourself first before you can take care of others.”

Hawks sat there a moment in silence, absorbing your words. Wondering whether you would be so sympathetic and kind if you knew the truth. He began typing.

“I killed someone,” the unnatural voice said. It came from him, but it didn’t feel like him. It echoed against the walls of the sterile room, void of emotion.

You pulled a chair next to his bed so that you were slightly below his eye level.

“I heard. That must be a lot to carry.”

“You hate me.”

“I don’t.”

“I’m a bad person.”

“You’re not.” You paused, choosing your next words carefully for the fragile hero. “I don’t know what your world is like. I wasn’t there so I don’t know exactly what happened. But I do know that we are both in the business of saving lives, albeit in different ways. My guess is you made a split second decision on what was in the mission’s best interest to save the lives of your colleagues and ultimately the lives of civilians. Nobody has a crystal ball to know whether that was the best or right choice. But it was a life or death situation, and you did the best you could in the moment. It’s natural to feel remorse and guilt, but you can’t let it debilitate you for the rest of your life either.”

What right did you have to comment on such things?

“You’ve never killed someone,” he countered.

“I have. In my OR. There are some people that can’t be saved, no matter how hard you try.”

“I think he was a good person,” he typed, wondering if that negated everything you just said.

“Good people do bad things all the time. It doesn’t make them bad people.” He sighed, swallowing the searing pain as harsh air passed through his lungs. You watched closely as the hero studied his bandaged hands, refusing to make eye contact. “For now, the best thing you can do for yourself and Japan is rest. We need you.”

He sat with your words. It didn’t dawn on him until long after you left the room that you weren’t just talking about Twice.

As you warned, the days passed at a glacial pace. He didn’t enjoy how quickly he acclimated to talking through his phone. He had growing pains from the nubs of his wings that began to poke through his skin. Each day brought a revolving door of doctors and healers and other specialists, by whom he was constantly poked and prodded and observed. Hawks hated every minute of it. Almost every minute.

You came in daily to monitor the progress of his wings. It was the most painful part of his recovery. But you entered his room with a smile and sunny disposition, like you weren’t about to inflict torture on him for thirty minutes. The air hurt his exposed back when you removed the old bandages. It stung when you applied antiseptic to cleanse the area. It felt like he was going to pass out when you ran your gloved fingers along the growth that was coming in. He felt all the more pathetic laying on his stomach as you did your work.

But you did your best to distract him with bad jokes and hospital gossip. Not that you had to put in that much effort. Your presence was distracting enough.

On the fourth day after the battle, you finally got a chuckle out him. What’s black and white and black and white and black and white? He shrugged as you applied ointment. A penguin falling down the stairs. You quickly realized that your methods may have been faulty as his laugh devolved into a coughing fit, his lungs still weak.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Try to remember your box breathing.”

He held his breath at the top of his inhale. Four, three, two, one. Exhale. Four, three, two, one. He repeated this for a minute before his breath finally returned to normal. He gave a thumbs up. I’m ok.

Relief washed over your face. “I’m sorry I made you choke on air. But glad to see you in better spirits today.” He began typing.

“I’m always in good spirits when you’re around.” You bit back a smile no one could see as you started redressing the incoming wings.

“Ah, there he is. Yeah, you’re definitely starting to feel better.”

“Can’t you tell? I’m the pinnacle of health.” The gallows humor was hard to miss despite the monotone robotic voice, the statement in stark contrast to his fully bandaged and hospitalized body.

“You will be, soon enough.” You finished applying new bandages. “That’s it for me today, unless there’s anything else you want to share.”

“Capricorn. 27. Single –“

“Yeah, yeah, very funny.” You pulled off your disposable gloves, turning to hide the blush creeping up your neck. “I already knew that from your chart. Nice try,” you teased.

“Didn’t know you were stalking me.”

“Goodbye Hawks, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You knew your faux sternness was hardly believable, as you caught him wink before you closed the door.

Two days later you bumped into Hawks and Best Jeanist in the hallway. You broke into a wide grin when you noticed the two heroes, pleasantly surprised to see just how much progress your patient had made in such a short time.

“Good morning gentlemen.”

“Good morning Dr. y/l/n,” Best Jeanist said with a small bow. Hawks was visibly confused about his formality.

“Please, there’s no need for that. It’s just good to see you back in the land of the living.” Best Jeanist helped fill in the gaps for his perplexed cohort.

“Hawks, Dr. y/l/n was part of the team who developed the drugs to put me in a temporary death-like state to convince Dabi that you’d killed me. We can thank her for setting us up for success to get you undercover.” Hawks knew he missed out on a lot during his covert mission, but had no idea how many parties were involved outside the ordinary network of hero agencies and the Commission. You blushed at the praise.

“It was nothing, really. You guys are the ones doing all the hard work.”

“Truly, we are in your debt,” Best Jeanist piled on. You weren’t used to so much flattery and you had a job to do so you tried to end the conversation.

“Anyways, I have to get to my next patient. Jeanist, keep an eye on your partner. It’s good for him to walk around a little bit but make sure he doesn’t overdo it.”

“I won’t let him out of my sight.” He gave another bow.

“I’m right here,” Hawks typed, unamused by the turn of the exchange.

“I’ll see you in a few hours, Hawks,” you yelled over your shoulder before disappearing down the next corridor.

The session later that day was nothing out of the ordinary. The nubs sprouting from his back had formed into tiny but well-defined wings and he was able to sit up during exams as opposed to lying face down on the hospital bed. All signs of positive progress.

He watched wistfully as you documented your observations, swaying his legs off the side of the bed like a child.

“They’re coming in quite nicely, I’m really happy with where you’re at.”

“Great what do I need to sign to get out of here?”

“Ahhh not so fast. You have to stay at least another two days and even once you’re discharged, you most certainly are not ready to return to active duty.” He pouted underneath his respirator mask.

“You’re no fun.”

“Sorry, just doing my job.” You proceeded to check his other vitals before heading out. First you took off his mask to check his lymph nodes, pressing your fingers firmly against the outer side of his jaw, moving down his neck. He was acutely aware of the lone thin layer of latex that separated you. He couldn’t stop the warmth that crept up his face, thankful that most of it was still covered. His flushed cheeks may have been under wraps, but he couldn’t hide his quickened pulse from you. You put on your stethoscope and instructed him to breathe deeply a few times, the cold metal circle moving from his upper back, to lower back, to his chest.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Your lungs are sounding better but your heart’s beating like crazy.”

He feigned surprise, which was much easier when he didn’t have to control his own voice. “Really? That’s odd, no one else’s said anything.”

You pulled up his chart again to check the inputs of all the other practitioners who’ve treated the hero since his arrival at Central Hospital. All values normal.

“On a scale from one to ten, how much pain are you in at this point?”

“Two or three.”

“Are you feeling nervous about anything?” He chewed his lower lip trying to think of a way to get out of this, knowing that if he said no you would run more tests which would be unnecessary and prolong his stay.

“Yes,” he lied. Kind of. He actually was a little nervous, though definitely not for the reason you likely thought. You brought your chair next to his bed again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” A loaded question.

“No.” The good thing about talking through his phone and the mask was that he could get away with saying less. Sympathetic people tended to not ask follow up questions.

“Okay. Well, you know I’m always here if you ever want to talk.” You spoke slowly, your reassuring voice laced with uncertainty. It was difficult to get a read on him when you couldn’t hear the tone of his voice or see his face. “Do you have any questions?” He nodded.

“Will you go on a date with me?” You almost choked on your own saliva. You blushed, but forced yourself to remain stoic.

“I’m very flattered, but there are strict protocols against physician-patient relationships.” Your stern message was undercut by your stammering, high pitched squeak.

“What if I promise to never get hurt again?” You tried not to smile, knowing it would only egg him on. You were failing.

“You shouldn’t be making promises you can’t keep.”

“What if I find a different doc?”

“You’ve gotten awfully good at talking through your phone,” you muttered under your breath.

“Can’t hear you.” Despite his mostly covered face, you could tell from the crinkle around his eyes that he was enjoying every moment of this interrogation.

“I-I’d have to take it up with the Board of Ethics.”

“That’s not a no.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Can I say one more thing?” You sighed, bracing yourself for whatever nonsense he was about to spew.

“I’d rather you didn’t but legally I think I have to say yes.” You watched as his thumbs frantically moved over the keyboard.

“Thank you for taking care of Best Jeanist. This operation wouldn’t’ve gotten so far without him or you.”

“Oh.” Your felt your heartbeat in your throat. “Again, just doing my job. Glad I could help.” You fiddled with some papers. “Let’s try this one more time. Do you have any other questions… about your health.”

Hawks shook his head, looking exceptionally pleased with himself. Despite the fact that you wanted to scold him for the bizarre interaction, you were reassured by his pleasant disposition, one you hadn’t seen since he arrived.

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow rolled around but you entered an empty sterile room, bed ready for a new patient. After a few seconds your confusion passed and you saw red.

You stormed down the hall in search for any hospital staff, until a poor resident had the unfortunate luck of being in your path.

“Where the hell is my patient?”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“Room 3409. Yesterday my patient was there and today the room is empty. He wasn’t ready to be discharged so where is he?”

“I-I-I don’t know ma’am, I’m sorry.”

“Dr. y/l/n, this is a hospital, not wrestlemania if you could keep it down please. And stop traumatizing the junior residents.” Hawks’ pulmonologist emerged from his office and tried to placate you. You glowered at the first young doctor as he silently excused himself from the conversation that was definitely beyond his paygrade.

“Please tell me he got moved to a different wing.”

“I’m afraid not.” He spoke again before you could let out another outburst. “I warned him of the risks of a premature discharge, to which he insisted he was feeling fine and that those were risks he was willing to take. I had him fill out some paper work and a consent form and he left this morning.” Your nostrils flared as you silently seethed.

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that so I don’t have to report you. Oh, and one more thing…” The doctor took a deep breath before proceeding, worried he may end up the subject of your wrath. “This is probably terrible timing, but – he requested to take you off his care team,” your eyes widened “…and should he be re-hospitalized that you not be involved.”

“WHAT?” You continued mumbling a string of profanities under your breath. The doctor continued slowly and calmly.

“He made it very clear it had nothing to do with the quality of care he received from you. But he uh, mentioned something about a potential conflict of interest.” He took a step back as you burned an imaginary hole through his head with your retinas. “I cannot emphasize enough how much I do not want to know any more information about this.”

“There is no more information about it because it doesn’t exist!” You wanted to scream. “Fuck him. Fuck you. Fuck this hospital. I’msosorryItakethoselasttwoback.” You stomped your foot down like a petulant child before storming off. “FUCK!”

By the next day you had cooled off, that is, until you saw Hawks loitering outside Endeavor’s room as you were making your rounds.

“YOU!” you boomed. Hawks’ excitement to see you was quickly replaced with fear as you approached and you were close enough that he could see the rage steaming off you.

“Hey doc,” he said sheepishly.

“Don’t you ‘hey doc’ me.” You were very close to his face. He was sure he would’ve felt your breath if he didn’t have the stupid respirator mask on. For a split second he thought about taking it off but realized that would only further enrage you. “What the hell were you thinking?”

He began typing but you swatted his hand before he could answer. “Ow.”

“And you –“ Best Jeanist would be the next recipient of your verbal lashings. “You said you would keep an eye on him. Liar.”

Hawks had never seen his colleague scared before, but there was a first for everything.

“He just wanted to come for a ride-along, I promise he stayed in the car the whole time!”

“I have never been more disappointed,” you said in a low voice. Best Jeanists bowed.

“I am very ashamed and deeply regret my actions. I am sorry.” That seemed to pacify you momentarily. You returned your wrath to Hawks.

“I told you you’re not ready to return to the field. And now I hear you’re refusing to receive treatment from me? I cannot explain to you how embarrassed and insulted I am.” You allowed him time to type this time as Best Jeanist stood there as witness, desperately wishing for the floor to open below and swallow him whole.

“You’re right. I’m not ready. But this enemy is moving too quickly, time is of the essence. I’m in good enough shape that I can help off the field. I’m sorry I went against your professional judgement.” You continued to glare at him with pursed lips.

“And?”

“And I was being proactive. I’m taking you on that date.” Your face flushed immediately while the avian hero somehow remained shameless. You did your best to maintain your composure.

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.” You crossed your arms defensively.

“After a stunt like this, I wouldn’t be so sure. Plus, since you’ve already taken it upon yourself to be discharged I’m not sure why you’re even here.”

“Now that we know about the Todoroki family connection to Dabi, we need to gather intel. Also need to consolidate info from those at the Jaku Hospital attack. Off-field work, if you will.” Your eyes narrowed, only to be met with undeterred playful golden irises.

“Fine, I’ll allow it. But I feel the need to make it known that I’m not happy about it.” The injured hero smiled again.

“Thanks, doc.”

“Again, our sincerest apologies for the mishap.” Best Jeanist did his best to make up for his companion’s clear lack of repentance.

You only gave the heroes a parting glare as you walked away.

The rest of the day passed, otherwise uneventful but long and exhausting. You kept a professional and pleasant face for the benefit of your patients, but it was getting hard to maintain after all you’d seen in the last seven days since the attacks. Yes, there were cases of miraculous recoveries in the face of overwhelming trauma. But far more frequent were lives that were forever altered by all that had transpired, not just for patients themselves but all the other souls connected to those individuals. The hospital was at capacity, and each bed represented not just one person but a web of lives that now had to face a new crippling reality. If you thought about it too much you could cry – which you did, in the nearest break room or supply closet if had even just two minutes between appointments. Thus, your favorite part of the day became doing paperwork in your office at the end of your shift. It was methodical and soothing, and allowed you to disassociate.

It was at that moment when you were enjoying your oasis that an intern rushed into your office, disturbing your peace.

“There’s an emergency on the top floor, you need to come quick.” You immediately got up and followed her down the hall and up the elevator, asking clarifying questions about the situation.

But when you entered the room in question, all you saw was a picnic blanket on the hospital bed, two champagne flutes, a bottle, and the number two hero. The intern shrank in the doorway.

“I’m really sorry, he said he would send me a bunch of merch if I could get you here.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” You rubbed your temples, hoping it would transport you to another dimension where you never went to medical school and thus would not be here. “You are not to accept a single thing from him, do you understand?” The intern nodded aggressively. “Now go, I’m sure you have better places to be, ideally with a patient who actually needs help.” The intern scurried away without another word.

“And you,” now turning to Hawks. “Bribing medical professionals? Super illegal.”

“Sorry.” His mischievous eyes said otherwise, clearly undeterred by your scolding. You scoffed.

“No you’re not.” He shrugged. You took a closer look at the set up. “Seems kinda wasteful, doesn’t it? You can’t even drink.”

He turned the bottle to show the label. Sparkling nonalcoholic cider. The corners of your lips tugged upwards, threatening to betray your steely exterior.

Any semblance of a smile quickly vanished, however, when he removed his respirator mask.

“What are you –“ He spoke before you could protest or before he lost his nerves.

“I’m going to be gone for a really long time after today. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Or if I’ll be back.” He cautiously grabbed your hands. “Regardless of which it is, I really want to make sure I don’t break any promises.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in when he paused. You suddenly found it hard to keep eye contact.

“This is a hospital, not the Make A Wish Foundation.” Despite your icy response, you made no effort to pull your hands away from him. He gently rolled his thumb over your knuckles, trying to memorize every ridge and crease.

Most of his face was still covered in bandages, but you liked that you could now see how his lips curved into a lopsided smirk, punctuated by laugh lines that formed around the corners of his mouth. You liked knowing that you were responsible for it. Your mind concocted imaginary circumstances of other things you could do to get him to make the same perfect expression. Your eyes lifted to meet his when you were done daydreaming.

“I thought they were one in the same.” He was insufferable. His arms fell to his sides when you separated yourself from him. For a moment he almost looked like the defeated shell of himself that was in your care a week ago. But it was quickly washed with relief when he saw you grab the bottle.

“You are the worst patient I’ve ever had.” A satisfying *pop* echoed in the room. He knew your words were hallow, as your acquiescence was rewarded with the hero’s bright eyes and heartfelt smile that made your heart beat in time with the little bubbles that evaporated around you. You handed him a glass of cider, his fingers ghosting over yours as he took the flute from you that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not your patient anymore.”

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realisticpregerotica · 2 months ago

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Miss Labor Day

Summary: Offered a dubious, though life changing opportunity, Jane participates in a competition to see which mother to be can hold back the birth of their children the longest.

MDNI 18+

Content: 4.7k words, First person POV, drug induced labor, orgasmic birthing.

I was DM’ed by an old friend one night leading up to the event. They were looking for pregnant women for their event. I heard that these pre-labor day events were slowly growing, hell, some of them even made it to local radio stations.

The amount of money was life changing, not just for a newly single mother down on her luck, but this would fund every financial woe facing me and my unborn child! Sure, the events felt a little fetish-y, but anything could be. All of the events I saw were attended with parents and their young kids! What was the harm if it was PG and if I was kept anonymous?

An email and a phone interview later said I was registered to be a contestant on Labor Day Monday. It was a strain to travel in my state, but a break was what maternity leave was for, right?

The caller had me record the time and location. Slowed by my waddle, fatigue, and frequent bathroom breaks I finally found backdoor C. I had arrived less than an hour before the event.

Before I knocked, coordinators flooded out of the door and anxiously ushered me inside. They opened every door and took my bags. and pulled out all of the chairs in front of a line of mirrors all covered with ring lights that illuminated all of our attires. Above all of the wardrobes and the passing of makeup people and costume designers were the banners that symbolized the 23rd anniversary of ‘Miss Labor Day. Around were banners and a crude insignia of a company,‘The Maternity Ward’.

A pink paper bag was on the table as they left.

It made sense! these events were usually cutesy swimsuits, I expected the judges to be adorable old ladies commenting on the mothers to be. The thoughts soothed my nerves of the anxious rush inside and I thought of how the outfit would look as I took off my loose maternity wear. In private I covered myself from head to toe, trying to hide away the harsh realities of my changing body.

Immediately, my eyes dropped when I found the orange two piece. There wasn’t enough skin covered to modestly shelter my swelling curves and the outfit wasn’t fashionable enough to make the excessive amount of skin worth it. The top was clearly designed for a woman less busty than one about to breastfeed, my boobs were spilling from the sides! And the worst of the outfit came when I looked down

My stomach was large enough to hide the bottoms out of sight entirely, giving the impression that I was completely bottomless. My only reassurance that I was being covered at all was feeling the cloth hug my hips and embarrassingly growing ass. Yet, the space between my legs was cold. With my legs slightly parted from the sheer mass of my midsection, I stared at my behind in the mirror and immediately shut my legs in horror.

These bottoms left my pussy completely exposed!

My cheeks flushed from the exposure. This had to have been a mistake… A problem with the wardrobe people, yeah! I had to get it figured out, the event was ready to start at any moment.

I needed to find somebody. Quick!

The ceiling lights eclipsed over my head. I turned to see the blockage of the light and came face to face with a mountainous sphere inches away from my lips. I darted away, finding myself standing against the counter and face to face with a beautiful woman. She was large, no shorter than 200cm with a presence to match. Her dark skin and large, full hair made my heart skip a beat with a warm smile on her full lips.

“You have to be the last contestant. Nice to meetcha-” Her eyes focused on my nametag.

“-Average Jane!”

“Y-you too!” I stuttered, my face quickly flushing.

God, she was totally my type. The definition of her abs remained even after the heaviness of her belly hung between her hips, though she had the strength to hold the weight of her unborn child with stability. I swallowed “It’s a little vanilla, isn’t it?”

“Is anything about us vanilla, hun?” she smiled, letting one arm rest comfortably against her tight, heavy stomach. The paper slip around her neck read ‘Muscle Mommy’. The name definitely fit, however outdated it was. She sported a workout bra and between her exercise tights. Her dark skin was exposed with a large slit between her legs, no different from being naked, I averted my eyes and blushed at her calm disposition.

“Mufu~ Is this who we were waiting on?” Another woman spoke from the edge of the hallway. Her blonde hair was covered by a black shawl with a black gown and a white blouse. Across her collarbone above her own huge round that pushed out explicitly from her gown was a catholic cross. My eyebrow furled at the blatant contradiction, causing me to evaluate her whole appearance.

Whether it was the tightness of the blouse and the slit opening to expose her thighs, any depiction of a nun would have made this appearance sacrilege. She cocked her head, looking down at me.

“An example will certainly be made of her, shortly. That baby looks seconds away from flying out of her. The only woman larger than her-”

“Would be me!” Said a high voice with a distinct accent. A smaller girl with a comically large belly came between us carrying her stomach as she approached us. Her sun kissed skin shined with her long, jet black hair. Her neck and wrists were dawned with turquoise beads and a humble ponytail, she looked… pure. Holy even! Especially compared to the last contestant! An open midriff and a white bikini top that fit her smaller chest, her white skirt wasn’t bordered with underwear.

“My goddess has bestowed the privilege of bearing life.” Her hands hovered over her own tag with disappointment. “I am to be called Pele, but this name is a disservice to her, but I will wear her name as her devout supporter.”

From behind the rest of the cast was a woman with a quiet presence with incredibly sharp features with an incredibly round stomach that jutted from her clothing as she stretched. A Central Asian woman with indigo and gold of her loose clothing displayed her incredible flexibility in front of a full body mirror. She had beautiful, high cheekbones and almond eyes of my platonic idea of a vixen. She seemed to have been caught off guard by the sudden eyes on her. Meekly, she waved, saying something in a foreign language and pointed to her tag.

‘Acro-bab’

Muscle Mommy threw her arm around my shoulder, making me sit straight up. Maternity looked downright stunning on each of these women “Any lady who has gotten this far has a real chance of winning. This isn’t anything compared to motherhood!

Before we could interact any longer a woman wearing a headset poked her head into the fitting room. “Ladies, it’s go time!”

We were ushered behind a closed curtain and told to stand behind taped ‘x’s on the floor. The curtain lifted, letting in spotlights and exposing the dozens of people in masks. Ladies in scrubs hid out on the corners away from the sight of the audience

Though facial features couldn’t be made out articles of clothing were missing, bare legs, chests, bras. A roar of cheers erupted as the audience turned in their seats, visibly aroused at the sight of our round exposed bodies.

I wanted to cover my body. This… This was not the PG event that I had expected it to be.

A man in a tophat and a monocle stood before the crowd. He appeared far younger than his by his attire as he introduced each of us. His mid Atlantic accent was the perfect voice for radio. “Now, to our main event. With special thanks to ‘The Maternity Ward’ for sponsoring our 23rd annual ‘Miss Labor Day’ event!”

What have I got myself into?

“In celebration of your endeavor, we present you with women willing to present their endeavor as they bring new lives into the world.” I looked around me. Everybody embraced the announcement with a smile, even Acro-bab flaunted her stomach proudly towards the crowd.

“Let us celebrate you in attendance and these mothers to be when we find out who will be the 23rd annual ‘Miss Labor Day!’”

There’s no way…

Men dawned in black and white stripes blocked either side of the stage and approached each of the women with a gigantic needle into various parts of their bodies. The needles disappeared into Mommy's forearm, the contortionist’s collar, and even into Pele’s belly with no regard for the unborn residents inside.

I felt queasy remembering all of the blood I had drawn throughout my pregnancy. I leaned away from the rest of the ladies and felt the cold prick of a needle enter the side of my neck. Icy fluid poured into my bloodstream.

The proximity from my head made me feel like the drug was injected straight into my brain. It lit up my entire body. I was hot, and I needed to spread this heat to somebody else. I looked to my stomach, “Mnnn-haaaa!” I whined as I felt my body keel over to address the sudden ache in my midsection.

My heart started to pound as all of the ladies around me had similar reactors. Fluttering eyelids, a biting of the lip, and blushes being worn on our cheeks. I could keep my eyes off the muscular woman, watching her body flush and tighten with all of the orgastic sensations claiming our bodies.

It took effort for me to still my legs. I had no idea how long had passed since the injection. My whole body started to light up as I struggled to stay upright. The room was spinning around me. I was so hot, all of these eyes on me. My pussy began to ache. Even with all of the eyes on me I craved feeling my fingers inside of me to relieve the growing pressure deep within.

“A-Ah!” I gasped. My baby jabbed a foot sharply through their shrinking home, harder than every fetal kick they had ever delivered before. My uterus fought back, clamping down against my unborn child in retaliation that doubled me over.

“Jane, you doin’ alright?” Muscle Mommy asked. I went to reply, but a string of consonants flowed from my mouth instead. Unpreventable sensations that resembled the same loss of control like the middle of an orgasm.

Before I knew it a squeal escaped my tight throat I felt fluids spill from me. I clasped my thighs as much as I could like I could catch my waters as it ruptured. Amniotic fluid pooled against the wooden floor below me. Everybody's eyes fell to me

I started this race in last place…

Before there was too much dead air Miracle Baby let out a gasp as well. Her knees trembled as a steady but modest stream of water began to drip between her legs as well. The sound of chains were muffled between her legs. I wasn’t the only person who noticed. The women in pink scrubs whispered something to the announcer.

“Mnnn-haaaa!” I couldn’t silence the noises coming from my mouth. All I could imagine were my inconsolable moans in the crowd of strangers. The contractions started from my back and worked their way to consume my entire midsection. Every second with the drug forcefully rammed my baby’s head into my ridgid cervix.

As the minutes passed the other ladies' water broke as well. Muscle Mommy’s dampened her tights as they spilled as she controlled her breathing. Pele’s exploded dramatically from between her legs, making everybody flinch; followed by the petite mother. And last was Acrobab, who slowly began to leak as she rolled her hips restlessly.

“O-o-oh fuUUCK!!” I cried as I clenched my stomach. Weeks of Braxton Hicks couldn't have prepared me for the hormone induced contractions that forcibly seized my muscles. Despite the pain, the unnatural urge to please this sensation between my hips overtook me.

There was no way I could feel like this, I was giving birth!

“Ah-ah-ah. Language.” The host commented, before I could retaliate I was slammed again.

“OHHH GODDD!!” I screamed as I felt my abused birth canal spread with the rigid body of my baby. I wanted relief, something, ANYTHING to take away the pain. Through squinted eyes I saw the line of women swaying gently. All but one woman, whose struggle relieved some of the pressure pounding it’s way into my birth canal.

“D-don't use the lord's name in vain.” Miracle Babe scolded. She wasn’t doing any better than I was. Her face was pale white as it dripped with sweat.

A painful contraction overtook her. The blond woman dropped to her knees and made her headdress fall. A throaty growl sounded from her throat as she held her thigh up and bore down with all of her might. The nurses whispered amongst each other and then to the officials while her teeth gnashed with the struggle of childbirth.

Audience members whispered as their strokes between their legs slowed. In front of the audience wasn’t her bare sex, but a strip of black leather that tightly wrapped around her.

The officials circled around her and threw her cheap dress over her sore, red stomach.

A leather belt bulged horrifically between her legs. There was tension as she was overwhelmed by another contraction. “UHHHHNNNNGGGHH!!!!” She screamed between clenched teeth. The belt trembled, fighting against her body's desire to expel the child inside of her stomach.

“Goodness, that must be a chastity belt. A ‘Miss Labor Day’ first!” The announcer sounded.

“That’s a blatant violation of the rules. With less excuses than, well, a pregnant nun!”

Nurses piled between her legs with scissors in their hands. Miracle Babe tried to crawl away, kicking her legs while overwhelmed by her contractions.

“P-please, not here, not now! It’s gonna come out!!'' she begged as they got between her legs. The trauma shears completed their cut The belt was snipped as Miracle Babe’s vagina was exposed. She was tattooed with tally marks above her upper thigh. Lord could only imagine what the count was. The ink took a backseat to the glistening crown embedded between her legs, and it was only getting bigger.

I watched her eyes grow wide.

“AAAAANNNNH!!! NOOOOO-!” she screamed as her hole unnaturally exploded into a full crown. She no longer had any control over her body. The drug demanded her baby would be born. Her back arched as she surrendered to the birthing drugs.

“HNNNNNNNNGGGGGHHHH!!!” The shoulder of the fake nun’s baby slipped free from their mother’s opening as the rest of the body hit the hard wood with a wet thud where she stood. The umbilical cord hung from her pussy to the floor where her baby wailed. Miracle Babe fell flat on her back with her legs opened towards the audience. Her eyes shot into the back of her head and her tongue shot out. Her poor baby squirmed between the legs of their incapacitated mother as the midwives pressed stethoscopes into the blonde woman’s stomach and took care of the child.

For the first time since the drug was injected into me I felt my body go limp with shock. There was a real baby, a real child from a long pregnancy that was carried by a woman whose name I didn’t even know. They really let her baby be born on stage!

“What an embarrassment to her faith.” Pele uttered with closed eyes. She sat cross legged, allowing the audience to gaze between her legs. Through the tightest slit in her vulva there was the shape of a head between her legs. Suddenly, she went quiet, entering a trance-like state of controlled inhales and exhales. It was as if she wasn’t resisting the drugs at all!

“Hoo… Hoo…” Acro-bab's chest began to heave. Before her beautiful face allowed her body to progress another moment for her labor her forearms fell to the floor and she arched her back.

My heart started to race seeing her shape in that downward facing position. Her lean body wore her appealingly disproportionate curves beautifully. Her breathy moans were eye-catching as her belly formed a polygon with every contraction. Through the power of gravity her baby was held in.

The other women were slowly affected as I writhed with agony on the floor. I tried my hardest to keep my knees clenched together. My thighs sandwiched themselves together

“Tight… Competition” Muscle Mommy said. I saw the corner of her lip twitch as her attention was pulled from her. I watched her muscular midsection seize with tremendous force. The uncontrollable contraction of all of her muscles bearing down to birth her child. “U-ung…” She groaned, as finally she was forced to a knee on the ground She spaced off into the distance to fight the urges of her body.

The competitor who was worse for wear had the head of an infant comfortably embedded between her legs. Pele kept her legs splayed open as she arched her back, with high pitched pants as she listened to her body’s desire to birth her child. An infant much smaller than the indication of her stomach peeked under her skirt.

She looked so peaceful, like she had prepared her entire life for this. The urgency of competition seemed completely lost on her.

Her chest arched towards the sky “Mnnnhhhhaaaa~!” She moaned with one final push, welcoming her child. The baby entered the world gently against the wooden surface.

“Pele has been eliminated!” The host announced. The young woman blinked away lusty cloudiness while she panted softly. Unbothered, she crawled over to her child and cradled them in their arms. She kissed her child’s head and let them latch to her breast whispering foggily with a satisfied smile.

Doulas surrounded her. The eyes of the woman carrying the stethoscope went wide, immediately rushing towards the announcer.

Though her womb had been emptied her stomach still laid especially round. The tiny woman drew a long breath, and with an exhale another pop of fluids gushed from between her thighs

“My-my folks! Pele has another child making their arrival today! She’s still in the competition.”. No wonder she was so smug! There was a backup baby inside of her!

With the other three ladies standing strong I felt so pathetic as I kicked against the floor. Every breath was agony. With every oxytocin induced contraction I could feel the head pound my cervix into painful dilation. I wasn’t sure if it was thousands of years of evolution that forced me to open my legs or the gigantic fucking head that just began to spread my lips apart.

As I looked to my side I saw the lean, powerful legs of the Acro-bab splayed open from her upside down position. Her face was red and sweaty, her grit teeth and tears made it clear she couldn’t hold her unbreakable position for long. The head of her baby emerged from the split between her legs.

I could see desperation in her eyes for a moment before she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

In an amazing display of control she sprawled her legs straight into a handstand, maintaining a perfect arch to hold her child upside down into her stomach. I imagined all of that weight and pressure fighting against gravity. I could imagine the rigid walls of her uterus tied in a compact knot as the crowning head receded back into her lips

“OWWWW, FUCK!” I screamed. I clutched my stomach as I felt something round press against my opening into the dry air. My shaky hands reached between my legs to feel the wet orb forcing my hips apart. My baby was being born. I couldn’t hold back much longer!

Then, I heard a moan from my left.

“Unnnngggghhhh!” She groaned with the loss of control. All the energy of her body was sapped by the drug. Her chest heaved up and down as hair fought to get into her lungs. The crown emerged from her skyward facing gash.

In her moment of complacency, Acro-bab slipped. Her legs dipped behind her head as her infant slid out cartoonishly to the side of her head. Her muscles relaxed, and her face relaxed into the same feeling of euphoria that Miracle Babe wore. She looked so ecstatic to finally be done with such a situation and the act of pregnancy. I envied her…

But now there were only two other competitors.

My breasts grew sore at the sound of Pele's baby coo softly. In an instant, Muscle Mommy and I knew what needed to be done.

Pele flinched as she leaned into the Muscle Mommy. “Oh, Goddess!” She pleaded as she arched into her competitor. Her foggy eyes were adorable as she continued to labor.

My hands found her lower belly. Fuck, she was beautiful. Not just for a woman in labor. But divine, like her body was made to deliver children as the second head began to peak towards me.

The area that had already been stimulated by the drugs and her first child. The uncontrollable shift in her muscles as another contraction was induced. “Pushhhh.” Just then, I felt my own contraction begin to bind my abdomen again. My hand dipped between her legs as I supported my weight around the beautiful tan skin of her belly.

“Goddess… Thank you…” she moaned quietly under her breath. Her eyes were barely cracked open. Her mind was outside of this plane; she allowed herself to enjoy every side effect of the drug. “I am humbled to give life in this bliss, Goddess…” I saw Muscle Mommy’s eye twinge from the feeling of the smaller woman’s body lay into her for support.

“Nnnhhhhgggggggg!!!” I moaned, feeling my baby’s head open into the world. I could feel my ether region split towards the crowd even through the resistance of my fingers as the skin of my entrance burned for the widest portion of my baby’s head.

But Pele was closer. She pushed all of her tiny body’s weight into her. Her little moans were adorable, the little sliver of a second hairy head spread her lips open. I could feel the muscles of her petite waist tighten as her tummy squeezed its round from out between her legs.

The sound of all three of our moans overlapped as we tried to hold back our labor. All except for Pele. Her voice peaked and gave one final push. The head in my hands popped with a gush around the ears. Her pussy clung onto the child, feeling every surface with a loud groan. Her modestly sized infant slid into my hands. Pele’s stomach finally deflated with a kiss of adorable postpartum pudge.

With Pele’s unconscious body between us. Muscle Mommy stared at me holding Pele’s baby. Her gaze was kind, but she knew she was firmly in the lead.

“May the best mommy win.” She winked as the young mother and her babies were assisted off stage.

Her body distracted me, her perfectly sculpted figure and all of her tight, muscular curves. I could only imagine how powerful the baby inside of her was. Her belly sat comfortably between her legs, allowing her baby’s head to be comfortably held into her pelvis.

I couldn’t move, my legs were forced open by my baby’s head. With every breath it felt like my child’s body would stretch me to capacity and I would finally give birth. She had amazing control over her pelvic floor. Her abs rolled in a display of strength that I only wished I could hold.

One more contraction overtook my body from my spine to my belly button. The muscles of my tired uterus guided my baby to my opening. “It’s coming!” I screamed. My pussy burned as I crowned. My baby’s head stretched me horrifically, I could feel my tight opening burn to accommodate the head.

“UNNNGGHHHH!!” I snarled through teary eyes and grit teeth. Muscle Mommy was before me, controlling her breathing while the head of her child had just started to peek through while I could feel my baby’s head dangle from the back.

My cheek hit the floor in defeat.

I submitted. I drew air into my chest and forced all of my strength into my belly. My baby’s body didn’t budge. I moved my heavy legs further apart, feeling the head of my partially birthed child dampen my thighs and arched my back to give into my body’s violent urge to deliver my child.

“URRRRRRNNNNGGGGHHH!!!” I cried with grit teeth, enough to make my swollen body tremble with the effort. All of the pressure transferred directly to my baby's shoulder, caught uncomfortably into my pelvis. My baby didn’t budge…

“A-aha!” I heard my voice fill the room. I didn’t even recognize my own voice.

“AHAAHAHAHAHA!!” My powerful laughs shook my body, and even as my heavily pregnant body rumbled my baby’s shoulders didn’t budge.

“It’s stuck!” I laughed maniacally. No matter what I did my baby was stuck! The drama of the moment took hold of me. The prize, the competition, all social convection and inhibitions crumbled in the time it took for me to deliver the rest of my child. For a moment, nothing else mattered! I wasn’t guaranteed a damn thing, and I was going to enjoy these final moments before I became a mother.

I closed the distance between myself and the muscular woman. I was close enough to see. I pulled her into my body and into a kiss with all of the pent up feelings for the beautiful mother before me.

“J-Jane?” She asked as I crawled towards her with a blush and heavy breaths. I was within arms length before I reached out, holding her face and running my fingers through her hair. “You’re so pretty.”

The drug had been taking a toll on her too as she accepted my kiss. Her plush lips made me want to sink my hands into her laboring body as I made out with her. Muscle Mommy’s belly was so gigantic and as hard as steel, but under my fingertips I could feel those muscles surrender. “Mmmfff!” She cried under my lips. She drew deep breaths that were stifled by a deep kiss against her neck.

I could feel her powerful abs bear down with the pressure. All of her weight pressed into my stomach. I could feel the fruits of her pregnancy squeeze me. Her hungry hips thrusted into my hands while I played with her opening pussy

Our tongues wrapped around each other and I could feel her face tighten with effort. “MMMMNNNNFFFFGHHHH!!”

I stroked her face as the strong woman melted into a maternal puddle in my arms. I held her baby’s head, feeling the power behind her final push from on top of my body. From against my womb I felt her baby exit as she, too, fell limp against my body.

Her baby laid between our legs.

“Ladies and gentleman, with a massive upset, your winner of the 23rd official Miss Labor Day- Average Jane! ” More midwives rolled in with a gurney and towels to assist Muscle Mommy off of the floor. The announcer approached me with a trophy and a gigantic check. But I was preoccupied .

The shutter of cameras caught me with my back on the floor with a trophy hoisted in my arms. I toyed with my clit with a midwife on either side of me, aware to keep myself open for the money shot.

With the final pulse of the drug my child’s shoulder was freed by the assisting hands around me. “OUUUUGGHHHHHH!!” My legs flew into the air, the drug peaked induced my climax and the birth of my child as an orgasm tore through my entire body. The primal sensation of labor peaked as my baby’s shoulder exploded from between my legs.

I heard my child cry right beside me as nurses assisted me off the stage. I knew my life had changed forever when I began to wonder how many times I would be Miss Labor Day.

#preg kink #maiesiophilia #pregnant #birth kink #birth #birth fic #preg #pregblr

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kimberleyjean · 4 months ago

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Good Omens S2 Discontinuity Roundup

Hello Good Omens fans! Did you know the Good Omens team has put a lot of work into making “errors'' in the second season? Whether you were already aware, or just catching up, please take a look at the links below. Clicking any link will take you to one of the original posts that mentioned the discontinuity.

This post will continue to be updated and extended as new meta are published. Is there anything missing that you'd like to add? Reblogs, comments or messages are welcome!

Why are there so many discontinuities? Well, existing theories include different perspectives being shown, time-loops, separate timelines, a story told “out of order” and more! What's your opinion?

Discontinuities across multiple episodes:

Crowley’s sideburns.

Crowleys’ sunglasses.

The bookshop clock is frequently showing the “wrong” time (and other time inconsistencies).

The bookshop porch pillars/columns are sometimes clean, sometimes marked.

Randomly dusty streets (on a closed set no less!).

Street signage (Maggie’s and 1001 nights).

Almost every scene with visible extras, see here, here and here for examples.

Episode 1

There's TWO scrolls in Before the Beginning?

Gabriel’s/Jim’s entrance happens twice.

Crowley's conversation with Shax in the park shows him putting down the newspaper twice, and Shax's bag is all over the place.

Honolulu Roast sign.

Moving lamps inside GMCoGMD.

Disappearing eccles cakes.

Crowley's watch is set an hour ahead of his phone.

Episode 2

The lane where Crowley parks his Bentley varies between being wet and dry as well as the position it’s parked in, the colour grading, and the amount of dust on the Bentley windscreen! Also - the backdrop of the lane where Crowley parks the Bentley is impossible.

The amount of dust on Jim’s book changes in between cuts.

Job Minisode - varying wigs used for Bildad.

Episode 3

Muriel's arrival continues from a much earlier scene in E2 - see here and here.

Aziraphale parks in an unexplained location before going to the Resurrectionist pub, and also mysteriously loses his suitcase.

Resurrectionist Pub’s outdoor sign has two versions (no I don’t just mean the Jesus side!).

Bentley now 4-door (may be explained by the transformation sequence).

Awning of a new age, extras are discontinuous and standins for Nina and Maggie are visible.

Edinburgh Flashback - Crowley’s muttonchops change in size during the mausoleum scene.

Episode 4

Each time they are at the Windmill theatre, items in the background keep disappearing.

The polaroids (yes, two!) on screen are different sizes.

The polaroid itself is very confusing with Crowley’s weird arm.

The morse code in Hell is saying something slightly different to the loud speaker...

Episode 5

Nina and Maggie switch places? (Who knew they could teleport like that lol?)

High ranking demons are bottom of the barrel?

The “Surrender the angle” sign is thrown in twice?

A child randomly appears upon exit from the ball (approx 32:36).

Episode 6

Gabriel’s statue sometimes has a cross, sometimes not.

Crowley/David's stand-in is visible as Nina and Maggie leave.

French restaurant Fairy lights.

Final 15 clock shenanigans - why does the clock change from 9:25 to 9:40?

Are there two suns at the end of the episode?

These are the one's I've seen published so far and I'll keep adding to the list as more are published. In the meantime, if you spot anything missing from my list, please share the post about it :)

#good omens meta #good omens #good omens details #good omens continuity #good omens discontinuity #good omens clues #good omens season 2 #good omens analysis #good omens theory

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thirstydemisexual · 3 months ago

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Blood path || Jason Todd x vampire!reader

Prologue

divider by: @sister-lucifer

PSA: the povs will switch from second to third person as convenient. also I'm writing this as I go so yeah the pacing between the parts hopefully will be coherent

warnings: 18+ content, mention of r4pe, blood, a p3do getting what the fuck he deserves, (and bad grammar)

I've made mistakes, Lord struck me down Caught in a landslide, lost underground I hear them gates, swing open loud Come close to midnight, hell fade me down - Used To The Darkness by Des Rocs

The night was young. As the last shades of orange had just dissipated in the sky, Gotham prepared itself as their usual over abundance of criminals took to the streets. Some of them tho, were busy browsing on the internet, unlucky them.

Phil, 38, child predator who escaped Arkham a couple weeks prior, sneaking away as the Bat and the other heroes took care of the bigger fishes, was browsing on the dark web, looking on his phone at his favorite source of inappropriate child videos with a fist down his pants.

The abandoned building in which he resided, which was once an apartment complex before a villain attack, was located in a rather well populated zone of Gotham. Only two streets down from The Wayne foundation preschool.

Unlucky for him, his connection wasn't the most secure. Even a high schooler with basic computer science knowledge would have been able to dox him.

The dumb fuck didn't even try locking the door, not like it had a functional lock to begin with. But non the less, she still wouldn't be stopped by a mere lock as that men's refuge wasn't his home, thus the threshold didn't bound her. She was able to sneak into the premises without as much as a sound.

She was hungry and her face was morphed into an inhuman shape.

He doesn't even have time to scream or fight as her fangs sinks in his neck, tearing his carotid artery. Long claws shredding up the skin on his forearms as he tries to reach to stop his attacker. He stops squirming in seconds as she feasts on his blood, draining him in mere moments.

After she's done she quickly leaves the building, ready to go home and wash her hands and mouth throughly as just the mere thought of having touched that individual, let alone feeding from him, in her post feeding shame(and because of than mans nature) made her regret her choice of feeding.

Although she would never regret ridding the world of scum like him.

It was a weirdly sunny day in Gotham, Jason Todd noticed as he turned off the engine of his motorcycle after parking in the Gotham University parking lot.

Last night patrol had took a tool on him, and he was more exhausted than normal. He threw his book bag on his shoulder before entering the building, toward his first class of the day.

Jason normally quite enjoyed his Modern Literature class, but today all he wanted to do was crush on his bed at his safe house and sleep away until patrol hour came.

He sat down in one of the last rows in the room and crossed his arms on the desk before laying his head down and closing his eyes, he couldn't wait for the day to be over.

"Slept bad?" a familiar voice came from his side. Jason lifted his head up, a little smile at the realization of who it was.

"You could say that" His eyes didn't leave you as you sat down next to him and started to get your stuff ready for class.

"You could have skipped class today Jay, you seem way too tired to be here"

"And miss the chance to have our daily banter, no way miss" he replied, smirk on his face. You couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"Seriously Jay, you can't keep coming to class looking like a zombie"

well technically I am a living dead so its not that out of character for me, thought Jason but didn't voice it out to her.

"I'll take a nap between classes alright? Come on, don't act like you wouldn't miss me if I were to go back home"

"You're incorrigible Todd"

"I don't hear you denying my claim" he kept smirking at you, you shushed him as the professor started class.

"Just rest your eyes, I'll give you my notes later" he chuckled a bit as he put his head down on the desk again,

"You'd be a light saver sweetheart"

If you could blush, the nickname would have done it. You tried to stay concentrated but your gaze would often stray onto Jason's figure, slumped over the deck, neck slightly exposed.

Looking so appetizing

You mentally slap yourself as you divert your eyes. That is Jason, one of your only friends NOT a charcuterie board.

You took a deep breath and tried to calm down. You didn't know why but even after feeding the thought and sight of Jason Todd just riled you up, hunger rising through your undead body and plaguing your mind.

Hopefully you'll keep being able to control yourself around him.

You have to

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#jason todd x vampire!reader #jason todd x vampire reader #jason todd x vigilante!reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd #batfamily x reader #batfam #dc x reader #college au #college au!jason todd

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elysianightsss · 17 days ago

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RUN FROM ME DARLIN, YOU BETTER RUN FOR YOUR LIFE | PART TWO

You grab your duffle bag, with one last glance at Kate and the red vials still on the table, you left.

Part of you knew that Kate didn’t know what had happened to you, only that you had been sent away but back then you didn’t care. You hated her and you sure as shit made sure she knew it.

At first you thought it was a good thing, that you missed the helicopter ride out of there, you started to make up with Kate. Bond. But then there wasn’t another helicopter out of there for four months straight. Soon enough you became suspicious and found out why.

The team, excluding Kate, had been ordering whoever was flying that week not to land at the base. You were stuck there and after being there for so long you eventually began to pick up on their obsession with you. At least one of them had to be with you at all times.

Once you got semi comfortable with them they became way too touchy. The one time you managed to get away from them you searched Johnny’s room only to find sketches of you in inappropriate positions and pictures of you sleeping.

You managed to get ahold of Kyle’s phone to find a group chat with the four of them in talking about you. What you smelt like, looked like, your likes and dislikes. All the things they’d love to do to you. They were insane. You knew a crazy person when you saw one and there were four of them on base with you and your sister.

Your sister. The little trust you had built up shattered when you told her what was going on. The guys had been finally called away on a mission, one they couldn’t reject. You were so happy to get rid of them, to have you freedom back, even if a small part of yourself missed their presence. Not that you’d even admit that even to yourself.

You had told Kate all about what you’d found but she didn’t believe you and even scolded you like a child for making up such accusations. That was it, you’d had it. With the four of them following your every move and Kate giving you the silent treatment, you were starting to feel as though you were back in the red room.

You packed your bag in the middle of the night and hot wired a car before driving far far away. You made it to the mainland where you were able to go to the nearest hotel. You waited patiently before watching this older lady leave her laptop open to go get another drink. You swiftly grabbed it and ran into the nearest bathroom.

You booked the quickest plane ticket you could find, it didn’t matter where it was for. Thankfully for you it wasn’t too bad. You would be flying to Italy in an hour, plenty of time for you to get to the airport. Slipping the laptop back when no one was looking, you made your way out of the hotel lobby and out the front.

Now, when you thought that Kate’s team was obsessed with you, you were actually nieave enough to believe it began and ended with you being on base with them. You never even imagined in even your wildest dreams or nightmares that these men would follow you.

Not until you were about to turn a dark corner and you heard the familiar thick Scottish accent, “She’s ain’t just a regular civilian Cap, she’s trained for this type a shit. We can’t underestimate her.” Your hand covered your mouth as you fell into the dark crack in the wall.

Holding your breath as he went past, you watched Johnny with curious eyes before they darted around you. He was there but where were the others? Even bigger question was, did it matter?

At this moment in time, Johnny was the one standing between and the stolen car. Thing probably had a tracker on it, you needed to find a new vehicle but with him right there you wouldn’t get far and it didn’t look like he was moving any time soon.

Your hand moved down to your gun, flicking the safety off it while it still sat in your thigh holster. Just as you pressed the strap away you heard him speak again, something about Kyle coming to his location. It suddenly dawned on you that you didn’t have a silencer on the gun, if you shot him the rest of the team would come running and you’d be in an even worst situation.

Flicking the safety back on and the strap that held it in place you made your decision, you’d have to fight him. Hand to hand combat. Clicking your neck you rushed forward running at a ridiculous speed, he turned just as he heard your footsteps only for you to slam into him.

Both of you bursted through old metal doors, as you stood you took in the dusty, empty warehouse. Rusted railings and stairs, a filthy floor where Johnny was standing from with a cough. Your eyes were back on your target as you pulled out a knife and dropped your duffle bag kicking it to the side.

“Easy princess, just wanna talk.” He holds up his hands in defence while eyeing the knife in your hand cautiously. You ignore the throb between your legs at the nickname rolling off his Scottish tongue. No, you couldn’t be distracted right now. Not when you had a fight to win.

Your pupils widened, eyes darkening as they blackened. A sight Johnny had to admit made him nervous. You were a trained killer after all, but then again wasn’t he?

“No talking.” You clicked your neck to the side, before descending on him. You moved quick he noted, using all his strength and tricks against him. You were right about the girls, you were matching every move he made, countering them with such efficiency and a ruthlessness even Simon couldn’t match.

He’d never seen or felt anything like it.

You were coming at him once again, after getting up like his punch meant nothing. Not even a flinch. Johnny started to panic. Panic that he’d loose this fight and in turn loose you for himself and the team.

He kicked the knife from your hand and managed to be swift enough to kick the back of your legs as well, taking you down to the floor.

“Did you just- kick the back of my knee? Are you fucking serious? Childish little-“ you growl taking another swing which he doges but it gives you plenty of time to grab your hidden two inch knife and stab him in the side just below the ribs. He groans loudly stumbling back away from you.

“Did you think I’d be easy? I warned you didn’t I?” You scoffed, jolting forward sticking your leg out and swiftly taking out Johnny’s legs, he dropped to the floor, using your foot you kicked him in the shoulder sending him across the room, just as you had done to your bag earlier.

“You messed with the wrong cyka.” You growled as he got up, you stalking towards him fury blazing in your eyes.

Johnny grinned like he was enjoying this fight, maybe you were too. His big hand gripping itself on your neck, you grabbed his wrist pushing yourself off the ground swinging around his body and using his weight against himself slamming him down on the ground. He blinked up at you in complete shock, allowing you to grab the knife he’d kicked out of your hand.

He was down and you were ready and rearing for another round, he couldn’t believe it. A little thing like you, “Y’know people only have a certain amount of moves.” You smirked, Johnny raised an eyebrow groaning as he stood up. You didn’t even give him a second, rushing yourself forward jumping on him.

“You have five!” You yelled squeezing his head between your legs, his big hands coming up to grip the fat of your ass. You created a first, the handle of the blade sticking out of it, and hit his head right on the nerve you had studied to make someone pass out. Johnny yelled in pain, his eyes slipping close as he fell unconscious. His grip on you loosened to nothing as he fell backwards onto the floor. You simply landed on your feet looking down at him, your chest heaving.

You ran to your bag, grabbing it and running from the scene. Looking for a car, eyes spotting a brown jeep. Perfect. Hot wiring the car wasn’t even necessary, whoever owned the car had left the keys in the ignition. You pressed the gas and sped off as fast as you could not even looking back, though you did catch a glimpse of a ghost in your rear view mirror.

Shifting gear to four, you kept going. There was no way you were stopping now, you just needed to find a place to go. You weren’t going to make it to the airport on time for your flight. Ah well it wasn’t your money you wasted. Poor old lady.

You didn’t have a plan except to keep on driving until you could think of one.

Hours and hours of driving, petrol stations and greasy food later you pulled into a town which wasn’t marked on the map you stole at WHSmiths next to the Starbucks that had the best coffee you’d ever had in.

You definitely weren’t lost, you knew you’d driven all the way to Glen Coe, the north part of Scotland. Regardless of Johnny’s heritage, seeking shelter here right under their noses was probably a better plan than getting on a plane and moving from place to place where cameras can pick up where you are.

Out here in the wilderness, without WiFi and internet. They’d never find you. You walked around town for a bit then hit the road driving into the forest area to see if you could find a shelter further away from civilisation. And you did.

The present…

Happiness is a fickle creature. A constant companion to some, hides herself entirely from others. She’s been an elusive creature to you. You don’t particularly remember the last time she had visited you, it had been so long since she’d hidden herself away, you barely remember what she looks like. Nevertheless you feel yourself still seeking her out, even if you’re wholly against putting yourself into situations with others.

Just like this one, the Halloween bash. A stupid idea really but..oh who are you kidding it was an idiot idea and you knew it. But they hadn’t found you in the now five months you’d been hiding.

What’s the worst that could happen?

To be continued…

Tags | @fruitymoonbeams-blog

#elysianightsss #RUN FROM ME DARLIN SERIES #poly 141 #141 x you #yandere 141 #141 smut #141 x reader #cod 141 #task force 141

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d3wdropz · 11 months ago

Text

Does Princess Wanna Fuck? Toji Fushiguro Smut

a/n: I am shocked yet not shocked this man won the poll- I'm kind of nervous but here we go

i'm so shocked how big this fic is- sorry it took so long, finals were kicking my ass

plz be kind this is my first large fic

pairing: bodyguard! toji fushiguro x reader

word count: 5.1 K

summary: your mother, a very rich and influential woman, gets on the wrong side of some dangerous people. To ensure your safety, she hires the best protection money can buy: the Sorcerer killer. You're happy to have the support, you just didn't think he'd be this hot.

content warning: fem!reader, not virgin! reader, pet names (princess, pretty, doll, sweetie), swearing, porn with plot, age gap (toji is 30 something, reader is early 20s), alcohol, p in v, dirty talk, fingering, oral (male and female receiving), rough fucking, no protection, creampie, doggystyle, kind of mean! toji, bratty! reader, a few spanks, degradation (slut), no strings attached, no aftercare, hopefully that's it

Thank you @benkeibear for the great banner once again!

"I promise, sweetie, nothing bad is going to happen. I have my own personal team looking after me, we all just thought it would be safer for you to stay away."

You were sitting on your bed, listening to the voicemail your mother had left for you. It came as no surprise that she was on the radar of some shady people. Your mother climbed her way out of poverty and became one of the richest people in the city.

Ever since you were a child, you knew the methods she used weren't very legal. This came in the form of strangers coming in and out of your house constantly, the long and far away trips she'd take for 'work', and the items and rooms you were never allowed near. The people you saw as a child always ended up on the news, both arrested and murdered. The trips she took would often mean you wouldn't see her for upwards of a year, with no way to contact her so her location would remain secret. The locked doors and mysterious duffel bags were the biggest give away.

There was a time when you were eight and curious. You wanted to know what was so important about some stupid locked box. Your mother was away on one of her 'work trips' again, so she'd never know. When you were finally able to unlock it, you found it full of expensive and shiny jewelry. If it weren't for the news showing a picture of the same accessories- only this time the reporter was asking for tips on finding the stolen gems- you would have likely played with them.

No matter the means, your mom provided and loved you. Her job was paying for the expensive house you were sitting in right now, the newest phone model you were holding in your hand. You accepted your mom's life choices, going as far as to lie for her when people got too curious.

But right now was different. Never before did your mother's work involve you, let alone threaten to kill and dismember you. As soon as your mother received the threatening text, she had half her team escorting you out of your apartment and back home.

That was almost a full week ago and since then you hadn't been allowed outside of the building. Your mother was currently at her 'office', with the rest of her bodyguards and team looking for the guy.

You focus back on the message just in time to hear her final words, "I know you hate being cooped up inside the house, and if I'm being honest those men I sent are amateurs. I've hired the best hitman to look after you, you'll even be able to go back to your apartment. He's the best in the business. Anyway, I love you so much, baby, be safe. I'll call you when things have calmed down."

You delete the message as soon as it's over, sighing and looking around the room. You haven't been here in ages, not since you left for college and started staying in your one-bedroom apartment. Whatever nostalgia you were starting to feel disappeared when you heard a light knock on the door.

"Miss," it was one of your mom's team members, "The new guy is here to escort you out."

Standing up from the bed, you walked over to the door and opened it just enough to see the guy's face, "Okay, tell him I'll be down there in a minute. I need to pack up my stuff."

Packing was easy enough, you didn't have any time to pack the day the team swept you away so the only thing you carried down the stairs with you was a small backpack.

As you made your way down the winding staircase, you could hear an unfamiliar voice having a one-way conversation with the serious guards at the door. It was playful and some how laid back, something you weren't used to when it came to people your mom worked with.

When you made it to the bottom, your eyes met pools of deep green. The chatter stopped as the stranger faced you with a satisfied smirk, "So this must be little miss princess, huh?"

A mixture of annoyance and embarrassment bubbled in your stomach as you clutched the straps of your bag, "And you're the famous 'hitman' my mom told me about? I expected someone more professional."

In all honesty, it wasn't your best jab. Just something you made up on the spot in an attempt to knock him down a peg.

It only served as amusement, though, as he chuckled and looked you up and down, " 'Don't need to be professional to be good in my line of work, princess," noticing the slight pout on your lips, his smirk melted into a soft smile as he nodded, "but you were right, I've been paid a lot to keep you alive, even more if I find the guy."

One of the other guards grabs your bag as they begin to lead you to the black car outside. While walking, you turn your head toward the stranger, "Now how are you gonna protect me and catch the guy? I don't really like the idea of you half-assing a job that involves my life."

Another smooth chuckle leaves his scarred lips as he hops into the back seat of the car with you, "Oh, you are gonna be fun to work with, princess."

The princess thing was starting to get on your nerves, now. No other guard or person affiliated with your mother treated you like this. At best, they respected you; at worst, they coward at the sight of you.

"I have a name, u'know. If my mom is gonna pay you, you might as well learn it," you huff and turn your body away from him.

The man crosses his legs lazily and grabs one of the mini bottles of alcohol from the side door, "Trust me, princess, I know a lot more than you think. I know you're a snooty, little brat who still doesn't know the name of the person holding her life in his hands."

At the mention- or threat- of knowing too much information for comfort, you turn just enough to peak at him from the corner of your eye. Instead of using your words, you raised a brow and waited for an answer.

He took his sweet time giving it, too. He finished the alcohol in one gulp and wiped his mouth on his bare arm. The muscles flexed as he brought his arm and up, catching your eye just long enough for him to notice.

He finally looked into your eyes again with a cocky smile, "Toji- and that's all you need to know."

You tried to keep eye contact, tried to assert your strength and maturity. But it was a losing game, the thoughts racing in your head kept you from looking into Toji's eyes any longer.

Out of all the things going through your head, one stuck out the most: this asshole's hot as fuck.

~ ~ ~

It's been about a week since your mother hired Toji to be your guard dog, and you hate to say it, but he's very good at his job.

The first few days left you nervous and doubtful of his abilities as he waved you off to 'do your shit'. He said that you could go about your day like normal, that you'd be safe no matter where you were.

This was nothing like the last week you'd just had. Instead of one guy keeping watch in the shadows, you had a whole teams worth of people just watching you laze around your house. You had to admit, it felt refreshing to get back to your life. And it turns out, Toji wasn't lying.

During all of your outings, you were safe as can be. After a bit of questioning, he told you that while you did your thing, he was watching your every move. While a part of you was upset that you would be lacking in privacy, another was happy in the fact that you likely have never been in safer hands.

Even while at home, Toji doesn't intrude. He does his thing and leaves you alone. This could be rummaging and eating the food in your fridge, or sitting shirtless on your couch as he waited to sleep.

He's made a comfortable little bed on the living room couch. Your apartment, while beautifully furnished and on the top floor, didn't have more than one bedroom. As soon as you both walked through the door, you made it clear you would not be giving your room up for him.

If you could sum it up in one word, you'd say you were content.

That is, until Toji gets ready for bed. You're proud to say that you're no bashful virgin, you've slept with a few guys. But none of them were as hot as the man sitting before you.

You're ashamed to say that you've spent more time staring at his abs than the cliche action movie playing on the TV. You're also ashamed to say that you've wanted to fuck him since that moment in the car.

Throughout the week, you've tried to get closer to Toji. Not for the sake of a connection, but to see if you had any shot at getting with him for one night. To his credit, in this regard he is professional. You've learned nothing about him but his name, you didn't even know his full name.

In an effort to make some sort of progress, you mentioned having a movie night. He didn't really have the option to say no as your full-screen TV with surround sound was in the living room. Just to sweeten the deal, you offered to get drinks and takeout- which worked in your favor as you both make your way through the bottle of vodka and a pack of beer.

"Okay, kid, I know I said you could pick the movie- but come on, this movie is horseshit," Toji grabbed the remote from your hands and finished off the can of beer in one chug.

You knew the movie sucked, choosing it because of that reason. When has anyone ever gotten fucked with a decent movie in the background? The point was for you and him to talk, not genuinely watch the film. You were running out of options and sober thought quicker than you'd like to admit.

Steeling your nerves, you finished off your drink as well and poured yourself another, stronger one, "Well, it's my TV so before you turn anything on I want I know what it is first."

He chuckled and clicked through the options, landing on a classic slasher. Toji tilted his head at the screen, black hair falling into his eyes, "This good enough for the little princess?"

"Fine, but you need to tell me why you keep calling me 'princess', it's really pissing me off," you titled your head to meet his gaze, hoping he couldn't see the blush forming on your cheeks.

Toji crossed his legs and leaned his back against the couch, laying his arms against the head rest. "You really don't know, do ya?"

The bored expression on your face was a good enough answer as he itched the back of his neck and closed his eyes, "Geez. . . I shouldn't be telling you this but maybe it'll knock you down a peg," you leaned forward, eager to finally get some kind of information from him. "Your mom is a powerful lady. Everyone in . . . my line of work knows about her," he points his finger at you and grins, "which means, everyone knows about you. People think of you as a prissy little princess that doesn't know anything about the real world."

All of the confidence you had dissipated during his explanation, fueling you to drink more and more vodka until your cheeks flushed. You were smart, you knew your limits- and right now you were there. If you continued like this, you'd be drunk and all your efforts would be for not.

With a huff, you point your own finger at him, "I am not a prissy little princess. I know what my mom does! I know about the real world, I'm not some spoiled little kid."

"Oh- if you know about how your mom paid for your life of luxury, tell me. Cause I sure as hell would love to hear about all the info you've got," to further irritate you- or turn you on, you're not sure- he uncrosses his legs to spread them as he leans against his knees.

At this, you sputter, look to the ground, anywhere but his eyes and crotch. You'd officially dug yourself a hole. You didn't want to know about what your mom did, it would solidify in your mind that she's a criminal. Something you didn't want to accept was that the woman who loves and raised you might not be a good person.

Toji chuckles and opens another can of beer at your silence, "Feels nice to be right."

You groan and cross your arms, "Fine! I don't know what my mom does- I don't even wanna know!" you finally meet his eyes, trying so hard not to stutter when you see the sheer amusement swimming in his head. "But I am not a prissy princess!"

For once, Toji breaks eye contact first to roll his, "Listen, kid, I've only been with you for a week, but I know a brat when I see one," you hope it's not your imagination when you see him lean towards you, looking you up and down, "and you, Y/n, are spoiled rotten. Bet no one's ever said no to you before. Never made you say 'please'. "

The warm tinge in your cheeks is uncontrollable now as you feel yourself getting wet, "You're not my dad- okay? I know manners, you just don't deserve them-"

In the blink of an eye Toji makes his way over to you, putting his hand against the head rest and smirking down at you, "Oh, sweetheart, those aren't the kind of manners I'm talkin' about," he leans down to your level, so close you smell the alcohol on his breath.

"I see the way you look at me, it's so fucking obvious," his voice is barely above a whisper but it's leaving you hot and bothered in your seat, "Bet you were waiting for me to drop everything and beg for a fuck, right? You'd want me to do all the work while you just lay there and act like a little pillow princess."

At his words, you try and look to the ground in hopes of calming your racing heart. This attempt ends in Toji gripping your chin harshly and forcing you to look at him again, "If you really wanna fuck, cutie, then I'm gonna need you to be a good little girl. You think you can do that?"

The throbbing in your cunt is unbearable and you're desperate for any kind of action, so you eagerly nod your head. In response, Toji digs his fingers into your chin, "Use your words, slut."

All inhibition flew out of your body as you pouted, "Yes, yes please. I can be a good girl."

Satisfied, Toji let go of your face and stood up straight, "Prove it. I'm gonna clean up in here and by the time I'm done you better be nice and ready for me."

You're in your room in an instant, throwing off your pajama shorts and shirt. Your heart's racing as you lay down on the bed and reach your arm down to your aching cunt. It's been forever since you've gotten off, two weeks ago you were so stressed it didn't feel right. This week, you were hoping the wait would be worth it.

By how sensitive you are, you're happy you waited.

The simple ghosting of your fingers over your clothed clit has you biting your lip. You couldn't draw this out, though, Toji made a demand and if you wanted to be fucked you'd follow it.

Slipping your hand underneath the green, laced panties, you rubbed at your clit. Just a few circles was enough preparation as you slipped in a finger and tried rubbing at that spongey, deep, spot.

A whine slipped past your lips as your finger just barely reached your pleasure point. You were so close, you just needed a push. Letting the laced bra-strap fall off your shoulder, you pinched and rubbed at your hardened nipple. Hoping and begging for some kind of stimulation to get you over the edge.

Your whimpers and curses stopped as soon as you felt two calloused hands spread your knees.

"Can't even get yourself off, can you, princess?" Toji's grin was prideful as he admired your choice of clothing. He tsked and wrapped his hands around the straps of your panties, "Don't think some sexy lingerie is gonna save you, I told you to get prepped."

In one swift motion, he pulled down your underwear and threw them behind me. Toji climbed onto the bed, leaning back on his knees between your legs as he lazily stroked your clit, "maybe you aren't a good girl after all?"

At this, you sat up on your elbows and looked at him through your lashes, "I am! I promise I tried," you put all of your weight onto one arm as you used the other to rub at the bulge in his sweat pants. To avoid his gaze, you opted to stare at his abs.

You couldn't help but bite your lip from the excitement, "I just need your help, please, can't cum without you."

His mouth was clamped shut as you caressed his dick threw his pants, which you noticed were the only thing covering his manhood. His brows knitted together as he rolled his head on his shoulders, closing his eyes.

A small, deep laugh left his throat as he reopened his eyes, "You want my help, princess? Earn it, show me how grateful you are and suck my dick."

You didn't need to be told twice as you quickly lowered the waistband of his sweats and freed his cock. Drool pooled in your mouth as you studied his member. It was thick and curved, a nice seven inches with a mushroom tip you knew would hit just the right places.

Toji carefully put his hand on the back of your head, "Don't tell me you're backing out now, doll."

With your ego stroked and a need for praise, you shake your head and spit into your palm. Leaning against his clothed thigh, you wrapped your hand around his cock and gave him a few pumps. "No, just think you cock's pretty."

The hand on your head softly massaged your scalp in response as he let out a breathy chuckle, "Thanks, cutie, but how about you get to showing me that appreciation."

Taking the hint, you put both hands to work as you move them back and forth, adding in twists and some pressure when getting close to the base. You look up at Toji and are happy to see him closing his eyes in concentration as he bites his lip.

You decide now is the perfect time to bump it up a notch and wrap your lips around the tip. You suck on it and speed up your hand movement until you slowly suck on more of his cock. When you're finally able to fit it all in, you hollow out your cheeks and gently cup his balls. More heat floods your cunt when you hear Toji let out a groan and tighten his grip on your head.

"Fuck- just like that, princess," he runs a hand through his hair and struggles to hold in a moan as you pull your mouth up to the tip and tongue at the slit. Your hands go back to his cock as you squeeze and pump. When you hear him breathe faster, you go back to sucking him, bobbing your head up and down now.

It doesn't take long for this changing of tactic to have Toji bucking his hips up into your face. He's close, you can tell. At this point, you don't care if he cums down your throat, he'll probably be ready for more within five minutes.

Toji has other plans, though, as he pushes you off of his cock and onto your back, "Shit, doll, gonna ruin the fun." He repositions himself so that he's laying between your spread thighs, hands holding them tight against the sides of his head.

" 'think that deserves a reward," he dives his head down to your cunt, halting before he touches you. His emerald eyes peer up at you through raven locks as he speaks, "you better not cum, princess."

You nod and stroke his hair, gasping when he shuts his mouth against your pussy and starts sucking on your clit. It feels amazing, his fingers prod at your opening before plunging in and starting an unforgiving pace.

The hands in his hair pull him closer as you arch your back off of the bed. The neighbors probably can hear your loud and porno-grade moans, but you don't care. Toji's reaching all the places you couldn't and it's sending you to paradise.

"Ah! Toji- oh fuck- Toji! 'Gonna cum! I'm so close- fuck!" there are tears brimming your eyes from the pleasure as you start to clench around his fingers. You're so close, it feels so good.

You cry out when Toji pulls away, sucking his fingers clean as he stands up just long enough to takes off his pants, "Don't worry, doll, not leavin' you, just getting us more comfortable."

Panting and whimpers are the only sounds you can make as he unclasps the laced bra you wore and turns you onto your stomach.

"Think you can hold yourself up?" Toji's behind you, holding your hips firmly as he rubs the head of his cock between your folds.

You buck back against him, hoping to get some attention to your clit. As you register the question you lift yourself onto your elbows and nod, shaking your ass in excitement, "please, Toji, need you to fuck me so bad. Need to cum on your cock."

His nails dig into the flesh of your hips as he snaps his own forward. In one swift motion, Toji bullies his cock into your dripping cunt. You let out a squeal, almost letting your face fall into the pillows. His mouth falls open in a silent groan, letting his head fall forward as he looked down.

"Shit baby. . ." Toji breathes out and pulls his hips back slowly, savoring the view of his dick soaked in your juices. Just the tip was left snug in your cunt, leaving you wanting more.

"Ah! Toji- put it back! Please," you begged and tried to move back into him, only to be stopped by a sharp slap to your ass. You yelped, arms finally giving out as you face-planted into the pillows.

Toji 'tsked', massaging and gripping the reddened skin, "You better be patient, princess, or you're not gonna cum tonight."

With that, he sank back into you and repeated the movement. His pace was slow and agonizing, thrusts shallow and teasing. Tears formed in your eyes again at the lack of stimulation. You could feel the veins and ridges of his cock slide against you, but he wasn't hitting deep enough, wasn't going fast enough to send you over the edge.

On the other hand, Toji was enjoying himself. He was savoring the way your pussy clenched around him, pulling him in every time he pulled out. If he was being honest, all he wanted to do was grip your head, force your face deeper into those silk pillows, and pound into your cunt until you creamed. Not yet, though, Toji needed to teach you some manners; only good girls get to cum and cry on his cock.

His hands spread your cheeks apart to watch you clench around him. A hiss came from his scarred and bitten lips as he stayed still inside you, feeling you squeeze his dick just right. Toji let out a breathy chuckle as he wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned his chest onto your back.

" 'think you've been a good girl for me," one of his arms made its way around your throat, pulling you up against his chest as he thrust into you, hard. His head was nestled into your neck, biting and leaving dark purple marks, "better not hold out on me, princess, wanna hear how good I fuck this little cunny."

That was all the warning you got as Toji started pistoning his hips into yours, using his grip to slam your body into his thrusts. Tears of pleasure rolled down your face as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

It felt so good, the way his dick was slamming into your soft spot over-and-over. Toji was sending you closer and closer to your orgasm, faster than you expected.

"Oh shit! Toji- feels so fucking good! Ah- right there! Fuck! Right there!" You didn't care about the cries and moans coming out of your mouth. You didn't have the energy or focus when the only thing you could think about was how this was possibly the greatest fuck of your life.

You felt a rough hand snake its way between your thighs, starting to draw hard circles into your bundle of nerves. You let out a loud whine, head falling back and leaning against Toji's shoulder, now covered in a thin layer of sweat.

His arm dropped from your throat, finding purchase in groping your boobs. "That's it, princess, cum for me," his voice was low and gravely, desperate to feel you squeeze and milk him for all he's worth.

Finally gaining some sense, you gripped his wrist, trying to pull him away from your clit. You whined and felt your legs begin to shake, "Toji! Wait- gonna cum- gonna cum!" It was all building too fast, too intense. A part of you thought you might pass out when you reached your peak.

He chuckled and rubbed faster at your nub, bending you over and pressing his upper body into your back. It left you trapped beneath him, and gave Toji a better angle to fuck into you. At this point, it felt like he was hitting against your cervix.

"Come on, pretty, don't hold back" his thrusts sped up as his head dipped into your shoulder. You could hear his heavy breaths and low grunts before you felt him lick at the shell of your ear. "Show me what a good girl you are and cum."

Toji's words were all you needed to fly over the edge. A numbness washed over your sweat-soaked body, being replaced with unbelievable pleasure within a half a second. Your loud, high pitched moans filled the room, drowning out the sound of his thighs slapping against your ass. White filled your vision as you clenched around his cock. In the wake of your mind-shattering orgasm, you fall onto the bed, Toji following behind you and pinning you to the mattress.

As you dome down from your high, you feel Toji move his hand to grip your hips, digging his dull nails into your flesh. Somehow, he's fucking you harder as he groans into your neck.

"Fuck- good girl, good girl," his mouth latches to your skin now, leaving a hickey behind and moving to make another. "Gonna cum, pretty, gonna cum for you."

With one, final thrust, Toji stills inside you as he bites into the junction between your neck and shoulder, "Take it, slut- take it."

The feeling of hot cum gushing into you leaves you a whining little mess. Toji holds you tight, softly rolling his hips to ride out his orgasm. The two of you are left sweating and panting on your bed. You're too exhausted to think about what to do next, feeling just the slightest bit of overstimulation as he stays inside your abused cunt.

Toji chuckles and pulls out, sitting up on his knees to look at the mess he left between your thighs. You turn your head to look at him, lacking enough energy to move the rest of your body. Through the corner of your eyes, you watch Toji comb a hand through his hair before getting off your bed and collecting his discarded pants.

Some part of you wanted him to stay, but you're mostly glad he's taking charge and leaving without being told. It's obvious that this isn't the first time Toji's been in this position.

Even when fucked out, you've got a job to do. You manage to roll onto your back and run your hands down your face. The intent stare Toji gives to your bare tits doesn't go unnoticed, in return you smile teasingly at him, "Jeez, you aren't even gonna help me clean up?"

Toji ties the strings of his waistband and gives you a cocky grin, "I'm not being paid to pamper you, now am I?" He snickers as you roll your eyes, turning to leave the room. Toji stops himself just before he makes it out the door and raises a brow at you, "You're on birth control, right?"

At this, you scoff and chuck one of your throw pillows at him, "Maybe you should get better at your pull-out game, asshole."

He easily dodges the pillow, huffing as he leaves your room for real this time. While he makes his way to the bathroom, you hear him mutter something along the lines of 'getting you plan b in the morning.'

You sit yourself up on your elbows, cringing at the feeling of Toji's cum leak out onto your bedspread. The clock reads that it's two in the morning, and you really just wanna go to sleep- you would, if it wasn't for the various fluids drying on your bed. You groan and go to get off the bed, only to fall to the ground from the ache in your thighs.

"Damn it," you look up at the ceiling and hear Toji turn the TV back on in the living room. As you lay there, you let the memories and events sink in. He lets out a loud laugh at something he saw on the screen, and you're reminded that Toji is, in fact, a dickhead.

But you can easily admit that he's an excellent fuck. You're pretty sure that no one's any closer to finding the guy that threatened you. Maybe you can get one last round in before his job's done.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk #toji jjk #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #jjk toji #toji x you #fushiguro #toji x y/n #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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plasticfangtastic · 4 months ago

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Dairy Girl-- Part 2

A Homelander x F! Reader fanfic

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to post this and hope the lenght is enough of an apology, yeah this is gonna be liek 4 parts i got too engrossed btw. hope yall like it here's the previous chapter:

Synopsis: In order to provide a constant supply of fresh breastmilk for Vought’s number one hero, Vought has had to get quite nifty in order to prevent this secret desire out the press and the public– you have unfortunately discovered the truth.

Tags: Stockholm Syndrome, abusive dynamic, Homelander being Homelander, dub-con, dark, mild smut, breastfeeding kink, kidnapping, child-death mention tw, cheating tw, set in s4 but canon nothing, slow burn.

word count: 3.4K

Part 2– Calf

As he’d mentioned before the house was an escape proof cage– every window had its hinges super glued or welded shut, glass panels thick enough to prevent shattering but thin enough to allow sound in. That night as he’d left you for the first time you kept your composure, perturbed more by the earlier events that nothing had time to sink in, you venture across the 3 bedroom home, each room old taken straight out from a vintage furniture catalog, the master bedroom smelled just like your grandmother’s, the bathroom walls covered in tacky pink tiles that you told yourself will never get used to.

By the time you explored the whole building you understood the following: The size felt deceiving, without a way to see the outside this building could’ve been 35 floors high and you wouldn’t know, the east-wing of the building at the opposite direction where you’d emerged was cut off from you by a thick metal door, an eye-scan request made its unpickable lock, looking at how it cut on the hardwood floors you’d guess this is where in the kitchen and perhaps the garage and entry hall could be found, this overall felt like an architectural nightmare, the only other oddity of this was the piles and piles of bottled water– Vought branded water… you much rather drink Dasani than this crap… It was by far the worst one in the supermarket.

There were indeed no phones or even ethernet ports on the wall, the TV was bolted in its place and so was the VHS player (and all the furniture too), there were at least 350 titles on the walls (something you bothered to count on day 5), an extremely old vinyl player your only other company... whoever had supposedly lived here was a big fan of Cab Calloway, ABBA and Bruce Springsteen, here you and Bruce could become intimate friends it seems after all you had all his vinyls, alongside an expansive jazz assortment, nothing in this selection went past 1989.

You also learned a very useful fact on day 3 you stared at one of the 18 cameras that you’d found.

“I really want some Mcnuggets! Like just a 12-pack and a large Sprite! Maybe an Oreo Mcflurry too!” You yelled into the camera waving your arms as if the circular lense would reply somehow.

Barely few minutes later the air was filled with the roaring sounds of a bike burning tires seemed the forbidden end faced some road which made you giddy, about 50 minutes later a small door at the door itself opened smoothly where the first strange hand you’ve seen in the last 3 days popped-out leaving a bag with a familiar logo… it wasn’t maccas tho, it was Vought-a-burger which was okay but that wasn’t the point, you picked your meal and your oversize ice-cream and drink and begun connecting lines– Your prison was in Pennsylvania, based on the area code on the phone number on that old pizza box, located close enough from both a pizza chain and on a 15 to 20 minutes drive from a Vought-a-Burger, the library held no maps for you to try to find your location but give or take about an hour or two by foot from any civilization… Yet as you drank the mostly melted caramel churro sundae you smiled thinking of how to steal a bike.

That Night you picked two tapes from the wall not caring one bit about what you were going to see, you stared at the camera.

“Hey can one of you check like an underrated 80s movie list from IMDb ‘cuz I seen a few of these already… at least bring me something new!”

As always no response was ever given, you dragged your feet towards that ornate bedroom of yours, pink walls, flowery quits, a matching chaise lounge, a hardwood coffee table bolted to the ground and your private TV and VHS player, it took you an hour to remember how to use these thing that second day here. You put on a movie, curling in your bed in the dark, smelling the sweet flowery smell of fabric softener, this didn’t smell like home, pillows too soft, mattress too soft everything here was made to bring you comfort but it was making you feel like a squatter.

The cold light of the screen enveloped every surface and you slowly faded away as ‘Lady in White’ began to wrap up, eyes glued to the screen so firmly you screamed when the faint red light peeked from the corner, clutching the quilt across your body as the red faded away and all you saw was a vaguely illuminated shape.

Blurry colors with no clean shapes, standing facelessly enough blue to let you see it was humanoid, Homelander creeped closer, his body blocking the light and like a shadow he devours everything, he turned around to pause the player, draping his gloves on the dumb box as he turned around once more, your heart caught in your throat, each breath quick and sharp as he took another step closer, hushing softly and he’s there swallowing you whole he kneeled into the bed the mattress squeaked and chimed sinking under his weight pulling you in, only the faint outline of gold eagles and soft blonde locks told you with absolute certainty that he was here… that 3 days ago you indeed met The Homelander, far from the pretty blue-eyed hunk from the movies more ghoul.

You swallowed as his head rested on the pillow next to your hips, his nose burying in the cushioned pillowcase.

“I was busy with work” He mumbles softly, staring at you with the same playfulness of a guilty pet owner who’d ran out of their cat's churu treats– "I promise to visit, I got you something… left it downstairs for you.”

He stared at your white knuckled hands and without uttering a word you understood his demands, fingers moved by psychic force alone, you welcomed him into your lap as you came undone, burying your digits into his hair, soft like cotton, so smooth you dreamt of cat’s bellies as you scratched him, he took the remote from under you lifting you with so much ease your brain struggled to compute it at first, the movie played and all he wanted was petting.

“Security told me you’ve been good… nothing crazy… am glad, "he said with a tired tone.

“What good would that do me…?” You replied with your eyes focused on the screen.

If you wanted to survive I had to get on his good side, no? you though

“I like it when you people understand your place” He chuckles softly.

‘You people’? You could easily discern the meaning behind his words by tone alone, your finger stopped suddenly, his eyes flaring up immediately.

“I think this would be more productive if you told me exactly what’s going on… I won’t try to run or scream… am just confused and scared…” you spoke bluntly as his gaze met yours in the dark.

“This is my private speakeasy and you’re the bartender… tap too… is hard being on top… and I want some relief… and a sanctum–

“To express your socially unacceptable inclinations/interests? Fair enough I can imagine the press would eat you alive if they found out you liked breastmilk.”

“You’re cute and smart too.” He pushed himself into your stomach, your body sinking to the shape he wanted, holding you tight– I’ll be a good owner and let you asks me absolutely anything you want”

“Why me?”

“Dunno.” His lips tightened into a flat line– the doctors picked you, I asked for a good provider… but all the women downstairs and you did have one thing in common” He sounded awkward as he spoke listening to your increasing heartbeat– you kept producing… I asked to have easy access to my treat but somebody downstairs came out with all of this” his hand lazily gestures around– bit extra I know.”

How simple, he didn’t even care about this to begin with, glaring at him gave you no answers or comfort.

“My family…?”

“They think you killed yourself, I've been told… your ex-hubby been on twitter acting holier than the virgin mary, absolutely devastated for likes” You bit your lips, face scrunching up ready to shout and cry– everybody suspects he murdered you even the cops”

“I'm going to kill him!!” Your tears flowed regardless – god fucking dammit!”

Your whole body rejected the news, twisting your stomach and filling you with needles

“How would you do it?”

“Bash his head in with a hammer…?? I don’t know but fuck him! I wasted 5 years of my life with that bastard!” You cried.

Homelander buried his face into your stomach, hiding the smile on his face. as you cursed outloud for a little bit, he paid no attention to your words.

“Sorry…” You cleaned your tears trying to stop this embarrassing display, the mere thought of him acting like he cared made you sick when he wouldn’t even come to his own son’s funeral– are you gonna hurt me?” you cleaned your nose against the pillow.

He moved so quickly before you knew it he’s face to face and even in this dark room only lit by rolling credits he appeared serene as a painting… It makes your blood run cold.

“Why would I hurt my comforter?”

That night he only slept for a couple hours, never moving from your stomach, holding you regardless, he snored softly, mumbling half-spoken words, lips twitching and brows furrowing, you petted him gently watching his hardened frown melt.

Some days he’d come once, others he’d come five times and then there were the days were you didn’t see him at all, leaving you awkwardly aware about how odd these exchanges felt… for it never felt truly sexual, your fears of molestation and ‘real’ assault dissuaded as you accepted that all this man was doing was come here to whine and bitch about work and suck on your titty– like right now, Homelander has been shouting, talkign so much shit about his coworkers you started to wonder if it was made up for nobody could certainly be that allegedly incompetent, about how stressful it was to do 20 plus media interviews all day, about hoq\w his latest film “Justice Serve” was a fucking nightmare already despite being only half-way thru pre-production.

“Do you even know what it's like to deal with idiots who think they’re better than you because they have an award!?” He put your nipple back in his mouth with a frown– who does Villeneuve think he is” He mumbled into your skin.

Yet he didn’t only bring petty grievances and thirsty lips– he showered you with gifts, perfumes you couldn’t pronounce filled with soft fragrances: sweet but not sugary, warm tones without too much spice. Brought you beauty products to pamper you… to watch you play with from the many cameras in the house, and dressed you like a doll in clothes you honestly wouldn't have bought in the first place, too flowery and tradwifey.

You did so with a fake smile, you’d be pretty for him if you must, keep your tongue in-check and swallow the ever increasing knot in your throat for he at least wasn’t loud towards you, he didn’t yell, he didn’t make scenes… you were just living like his newest pet.

His miniature cow standing in the living room instead of the evergreen pastures outside, VHS tapes and steel food trays made your fence.

You keep busy cleaning this house making stories of who had lived there, Bruce the only one who spoke to you.

Analysing the house inch by inch, there had to have been a spot they’ve missed you kept thinking, you figured that somehow they monitored your sleep cycle, only entering to remove dirty clothes and trash in the death of night, they knew if you were obviously awake, on day 14 you stayed up till around 5 am and not a peep was heard accross the house but as you woke past noon all your trash had been cleaned up, on day 16 you stayed awake all day felt sick passed out and same thing, you would find a way out, you would force them to take you out, all the furniture was glued in its post but if you had to cause a fire you fucking would… as you stared at your clean bedsheets you figure you could force them to come in and drag you outside but as you postulated the possibility of a faux-suicide attempt Homelander’s face flashed accross closed eyes– dare dissapointing him and lose all the goodwill you’d been building, trust, even presents more extravagant than anything your ex ever did.

Had he not kidnapped you, hold you against your will in an underground bunker, used you as a milk fountain and terrified the fuck out of you with his invisible steps in the middle of the night you would had found him charming… endearing even… at least he was still handsome… frightening but handsome.

Day 18-19-20 were the worse so far, days went by and your isolation only grew he had not come by, your meals delivered so quietly you missed them and found them cold, birds either too loud or gone but Homelander never came, every hour the anxiety only grew as you found your throat aching to speak with somebody other than a non-present 80s musician.

You made a stack of the movies you’ve seen yelling to the camera demanding more to watch, abandoning the cause to focus on the obscene collection of Danielle Steel books in the library… at least 30 books, at least it was a distraction as you woke up for the third day in a row without hearing from Homelander.

You talked to yourself, prettier views didn’t make up for human interaction, you had isolated yourselves before… you didn’t eat, shower, answer calls, simply left yourself to rot in your bed, sinking deeper and deeper into your mattress, the calm heartbeat of the machine keeping you alive until the phone battery died, now here you were curling in the couch feeling that endless void inside you screaming back at you, nothing to distract you from it any longer.

How ironic that those days locked in the basement had been the firsts since the funeral that you’d hadn’t thought about it.

Now every sleep came with dreams of distant cries, empty halls that cooed back, and a sense of urgency as time slipped from underneath you, nothing here smelled like him, yet in your sleep you held your pillow as you once held him, swearing it smelled like him, in the silence the singing birds sound like babies, but there’s nothing but creaking floorboards, old pipes and foreign ghosts in this place.

In this endless silence your mind told you this was limbo, jazz solos disguised the pandemonium of a silent afterlife, but as your heart anguished once again you buried yourself in paltry distractions, reading out loud as to keep your vocal chords warm and delude yourself that there was some company in here, mostly to hide the nonexistent crying.

It took you by surprise when half way thru ‘The Ghost’ you heard the buzzing of the steel door, your ears perked up stretching your neck before falling into the floor, shaky knees picked you up once more with a brave kick, quick steeping into the living room– Homelander stood staring at the messy pile talking to the camera to have this sorted and for the first time since you’d been here you sawn another human, who answered his call almost immediately, a man in kevlar rushed in his gun bouncing on his back alongside a young man dragging an ikea bag.

“Homelander!” Your voice was hoarse but he still turned to smile at you.

“We got you some new movies Ms. L/N” The young man spoke dropping the bag with a heavy thud.

“Watch it!” Homelander growled and you saw a slight stain dribble down his pants– just go wait in the library kitten while these ones sort this out for you.”

Your feet moved anyways, too excited by the presence of new faces, had he not cleared his throat you would’ve said anything just to make sure this wasn’t a dream, you looked away and that big steel door was wide open, an armed guard by the exit tho… it was an office, painted white with cool fluorescent lights.

Run, the voices scream.

Run.

For fucks sake run!!\

but...

You stay still.

It’s a test. Run and die, run and he’d snap your spine in thirds before you understand what happened your brain would be separated from your cranium no doubt, you swallow and take a step back, slow heavy agonizing steps lead you to the library.

Homelander’s gaze softens as he watches you sit by the unlit fireplace, he follows you soon after leaving the staff to work behind, you lift your head with a stiff neck, your tongue swollen inside your mouth, he smiles gently dropping to your level, carrying a small box.

The pretty bow doesn’t catch your attention in the least.

Not that dashing smile and ever so blue eyes either.

He tickles your nose without touching.

Chamomile and oat, a pale scent, subtle and clean…

As he scoot closer to you urging you to take the meaningless box held by nude hands, he pets your chin, leaving you to catch nutty tones… his hands smell of almond oil and cream.

He’s talking as he guides your hand into opening the present but you aren’t hearing a single word spoken… all you care about is his aroma…it invides you carving an aching hollow chest, making you dizzy and the world is squeezing your whole body with a thousands of pounds of violent force but you’re still held in one piece, wrapping your neck with the necklace he’d got you, touching every exposed inch leaving traces of sweet almond on you, resting his chin on your stiff shoulder so close whispering sweet nothings to you… hair smells so creamy… milky coconut, it makes you ill– You could name every brand he wore if asked.

“You like it?” He asks into your neck.

‘Like’ what? You guessed he meant the necklace.

“Where have you been?” You asked, wanting to think of anything but that bitter scent.

He pushes you down into the carpet, your hair drapes everywhere so he moves it to give himself no chance to pull it, you can’t even argue but your surprise and discomfort still paints your face, before you can say anything he drops his head on your stomach, nuzzling your dress and pulling your hand towards his head.

“I don’t want to talk about it” his muffle words sound angry, he whined into your stomach a quiet order demanding affection.

Obeying orders before he could whined even more for now you wanted silence again.

Staying like this for as long as he needed, leaving you to speculate what brought him such distress that caused him to abandon you as a result, a part of you stared in awe as you realized you how long this man could stay still without making a sound for.

How long did you lay there in a shared repose that your eyes shut? you wondered as the orange glow of afternoon sun warmed your cheeks, his hand cleaned a falling tear off your face as you woke up with a headache.

“Had a nightmare?”

Your hand unconsciously pulled him close to you, burying his face under your chin he’d awkwardly smiled as he adjusted to your demands, talking to you but it was white noise, your kept him still bridging an arm across his neck locking him in position, your other hand buried in blond, closing your eyes as you got high on shampoo.

In your mind much like your dream you hold him so close, he was plump and giddy, his hair more than a thin tuff, you laughed with him, as you dried his back, you swore to never love the scent of coconut, you held back your pain as you held him with all your might.

“I don’t want to talk about it…”

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x fem!reader #personal #my fic tag #the boys amazon #i have not proofread this so i die as the dog that i am #will edit for errors tomorrow cuz its almost midnight when am posting this.

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mr-celestial-writings · 22 days ago

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The Oldest Biological Child [Headcanons/Drabble]

Trigger Warnings: Child Neglect, Violence

Trans Masc Reader

================================================

You are Bruce's oldest biological child. Older than Damian, but Younger than Tim.

Sometimes, you wish you weren't. You never asked for your Mom to sleep with Bruce Wayne and get pregnant with you. You didn't ask for her to die protecting you.

You had grown to resent your family. Much like how it felt they resent you for just being born.

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

Bruce Wayne:

When your mom had died, he didn't even pick you up himself. He sent Alfred to do it.

He had set you up in a fairly small room in the manor. You had enough room for your few belongings, but it wasn't anywhere near as large as the room of your siblings.

When you had come out to him as trans, he didn't disregard you, or do anything to discourage you. He helped you change your name and gender on your documents, but that was as far as his support went.

You can't recall a single event where he was there. Birthdays, Holidays, School Events. You went above and beyond, but you never got his praise.

He acknowledged you, but he never bragged about you. He never brought you out for father-child dates like he did the rest of your siblings. You were just... there. A decoration, a Ghost.

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

At some point, you stopped trying to be a spark in your father's eyes. You came out to him, not for his support, just so he could go through all the legal stuff.

Honestly, you couldn't care less if he supported you He wouldn't remember your name anyways.

You thought you could bond with your brothers, but you were wrong.

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

Richard "Dick" Grayson:

You thought Dick would at least be there for you. He was for a bit. But you were never a priority.

He always had a bag of excuses. "Sorry, Little D wanted me for something" or "I promised I'd help Tim!" You stopped trying after the 3rd year.

When you had come out of him, he voiced his support! But he did constantly slip up and accidently deadname you. He apologized, but the damage was done.

You can kind of remember him as some events. A couple birthdays, you think he gave you a birthday gift once. It was so infrequent though the the memories were starting to fade.

You knew you were never important to Dick, so you were never surprised when he never spoke about you. He seemed to forget about you sometimes.

Somehow, his friends were better to you than he was. They actually remembered you. Hell, you're sure Wally picked you up from school more than Dick ever did.

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

Nobody was ever outright cruel to you. Well, except for Damian that is. But you could tell that Dick didn't really care about you.

You were normal, average. Why would they pay attention to you? Your brilliant mind or beautiful art didn't change the fact that you were an untrained civilian.

You were useless to them.

Well, to most of them. There was one brother who actually tried.

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

Jason Todd:

"Damian is the Son of Bruce, but you, [Name], you are mine."

Jason could see you were lonely, a Ghost. And it hurt his heart. In his opinion, nobody deserved to be forgotten. Everybody deserves to be remembered and heard.

He hung out with you, brought you out to hang out with the Outlaws, Trained you, Picked you up from school. But with his strained relationship with Bruce, he couldn't always be at the Manor.

He gave you the location of all his safe houses and his phone number, though. Anytime you called, he picked up.

When you came out as trans to him, he offered to beat up anybody who harasses you. He dragged you out clothes shopping too. He bought you your first chest binder. Hell, he and the outcasts threw a whole party for you.

He tried his best to be at every event. Anytime he couldn't make it, he brought you out on a Boy's night with Roy, Bizzaro, and himself. He may or may not of bought you a shot on your 16th.

You have a place with Jason and the Outlaws, even if you don't belong with the Waynes.

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Jason couldn't make up for all the hurt. He knew that. He was one person, there was not snowflakes chance in hell that he could fix years of neglect.

But you knew you could always run to the outlaws. They welcomed you with open arms. His training made sure you could keep up with them. You were part of the team, without them even saying as much.

The third brother was Jason's polar opposite though.

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Tim Drake:

Honestly, you didn't even know Tim's name until you heard Dick shout it across the manor. It was very much an "Oh hey I have another brother" moment.

You two rarely interacted, just occasional nods to each other if you passed each other in the hallway.

You didn't even bother coming out as trans to Tim. You two were complete strangers. Sometimes you would remind him to put the coffee down and sleep.

Like Bruce, you couldn't remember a single Tim time was at an event in your life. You half convinced yourself he was a mass hallucination until you met his friends.

Like with Dick, Tim's friends were a lot more welcoming to you. Conner had spent more time with you than Tim ever did.

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

You and Tim respected each others space, both of you content with being strangers. Tim had his team(s) and the family, you had the outlaws.

You may not have been as smart as him, but at least you were smart enough to not push yourself.

You tended to keep to yourself and spend more and more time with the outlaws, basically getting adopted by them. Jason even taught you how to drive a motorcycle and do the Akira slide!

You thought you were okay, until the fourth came alone.

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

Damian Wayne:

When you and Damian had first met, he stabbed you. Nowhere vital, but you did call Artemis as you patched yourself up. Goes without saying she picked you up and gave Bruce an ear full before dragging you away. Not how you wanted him to find out you were an outlaw.

Damian didn't stab you again, but he constantly insulted you and degraded you. "Whore's son" "Mistake" "Failure" The list really goes on. He never crossed the line and insulted your gender identity. Points for that.

You understood why Damian was like this. Being raised by assassins wasn't easy, and realizing he had a blood sibling was probably difficult. It didn't mean it didn't hurt any less.

Damian was never at any event, why would he be? You two didn't get along and he saw you as a mistake. And you found that you didn't care anymore.

You basically moved out of the manor at that point, staying with the outlaws more. Jason had taken you up as his own little side-kick. So when you and Damian had run into each other on patrol, it was a showdown. He had threated to tell Bruce, and you had simply said "Do It."

Things were a lot more strained after that.

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

After that run in, you stopped returning to the Manor. On your 18th Birthday, Jason helped you get your driver's license, even bought you your own bike.

You had changed your name back to your mother's last name. You no longer wanted to be associated with the Waynes.

You had drifted away, and you knew they would never drag you back.

================================================

a/n: look, I may be on the Bruce is a Good Parent train, but that doesn't mean that I can't reflect my own trauma and the neglect I endured as a kid onto these silly characters.

Writing is how I cope, after all :)

Also, let me know if you would be interested in a series like this. It would be good writing experience.

#x reader #x trans male reader #headcanon #dc comics #batfam #bruce wayne #batman #damian al ghul #damian wayne #robin #dick grayson #nightwing #Jason Todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #celestials writing

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hd-junglebook · 7 months ago

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Little Dove

Quinn Hughes x Reader

masterlist link

a:n This is part 1 and officially my first ever Quinn Hughes fic, this series will be pretty long since I want to get into the details and emotions. There will be no skimping on details. Not round here partner.

also he looks so good in this gif good god!

summary: Sometimes Y/N's effort just isn't enough; every attempt seems to be futile and disregarded. The people she calls mom and dad do nothing but disappoint her, brushing her off as an ungrateful child. It seems the only person who can truly see her is Quinn.

Word Count - 4140

...

The sun had barely begun to peek through the towering skyscrapers of the bustling city as Y/N stepped out of her sleek, black car. Her red bottom heels clicked against the pavement with each confident stride, the sound echoing through the quiet morning air. She adjusted her perfectly tailored skirt, smoothing out any wrinkles that may have formed during her commute.

As she approached the imposing glass doors of her parents' company headquarters, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease.

Despite the success and prestige that came with working for her family's business, Y/N knew deep down that this wasn't her true calling. Nevertheless, she put on a brave face and pushed through the doors, ready to tackle another day.

The security guard, a friendly older gentleman named Frank, greeted her with a warm smile. "Good morning, Miss Y/N," he said, tipping his hat in her direction.

Y/N returned the smile, her red lipstick a striking contrast against her porcelain skin. "Good morning, Frank. I hope you had a lovely weekend," she replied, her voice smooth and polished, befitting her corporate persona.

As she made her way through the spacious lobby, her heels clicked against the polished marble floor, announcing her presence to the few early risers already at their desks. She entered the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor, where her office was located.

Stepping out into the hallway, Y/N was greeted by the sight of her office, its glass walls doing little to provide privacy. The modern, minimalist design was a reflection of her parents' tastes rather than her own. She sighed.

With a deep breath, Y/N pushed open the glass door and entered her office, ready to start another day in a job that left her feeling unfulfilled, yearning for something more.

Y/N settled into her plush, ergonomic chair, the leather cool against her skin. She reached forward and pressed the power button on her sleek, silver computer, watching as the screen flickered to life. The familiar logo of her parents' company appeared, a constant reminder of her obligations and the path she felt pressured to follow.

The computer hummed quietly, Y/N began to sort through the stack of paperwork on her desk. She picked up a folder, her perfectly manicured nails a stark contrast against the crisp, white paper. Just as she was about to open the file, a buzzing sound emanated from her designer purse.

Curiosity piqued, Y/N reached into her bag and retrieved her phone. The screen displayed a new text message, and her heart skipped a beat as she read the name: Quinn. she opened the message.

"Hey princess," the text read, the words both endearing and frustrating.

Y/N sighed, leaning back in her chair as she contemplated her response. Quinn had a way of blurring the lines between playful banter and genuine affection, leaving her constantly questioning the nature of their relationship. His messages were often short and casual, but the term of endearment he used never failed to send a flutter through her chest.

Despite his repeated claims that he wasn't looking for anything serious, Quinn seemed to take pleasure in pushing the boundaries, leaving Y/N in a state of confusion and longing.

She knew she shouldn't let herself get too attached, but there was something about him that drew her in, making it difficult to maintain the emotional distance she knew was necessary.

With another sigh, Y/N set her phone back down on the desk, trying to focus on the task at hand. She knew she needed to establish clearer boundaries with Quinn, but the thought of pushing him away completely left an ache in her heart.

Y/n shook her head, attempting to clear her mind and concentrate on the paperwork before her, even as thoughts of Quinn lingered in the back of her mind.

…

Y/N's attention was drawn away from her mother's presentation as her phone buzzed once more. She discreetly glanced at the screen under the table, her heart racing as she saw Quinn's name appear again. Her cheeks flushed with a mixture of excitement and guilt as she read his messages.

"I miss you," the first text read, causing a warmth to spread through her chest. Before she could fully process the implications of his words, another message followed: "Are we still good for tmrw?"

Y/N's mind raced as she contemplated her response. She had agreed to go out with Quinn for dinner tomorrow, a decision she had made in a moment of weakness, longing for the thrill of his company.

Now, sitting in the business room with her parents, the reality of her situation came crashing down upon her.

She glanced up, her eyes meeting her father's stern gaze from across the table. He sat in his imposing grey chair, his posture straight and attentive as he listened to Dedra's presentation.

Y/N knew that her parents had high expectations for her, and the thought of disappointing them weighed heavily on her conscience.

As Dedra continued to explain the new company policy, Y/N found it increasingly difficult to focus. Her mind wandered to thoughts of Quinn, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and the effortless charm he exuded. She yearned to respond to his messages, to confirm their plans and lose herself in the excitement of their secret rendezvous.

Y/N's heart raced as she quickly typed out her response to Quinn, her fingers flying across the screen. She glanced up every few seconds, ensuring that her parents were still engaged in the presentation. With a final look of determination, she pressed send, a small thrill running through her body.

Almost instantly, her phone buzzed with Quinn's reply. "Wear that red dress I bought you."

Y/N's eyebrows raised in surprise, a smirk playing on her lips as she typed back, "The v neck dress?"

"Yeah, that one."

"I will ;), I have to go back to work, I'll text you later." Y/N sent the message, a giddy feeling bubbling up inside her chest. However, her momentary happiness was short-lived as she felt a sharp kick under the table. Her eyes snapped up to meet her father's disapproving gaze, his brow furrowed in irritation.

the meeting concluded around her, Y/N's coworkers filed out of the room, muttering their polite goodbyes. Soon, only Y/N and her parents remained, the tension in the air palpable. Her mother fixed her with a stern look, her voice laced with disappointment.

"Y/N, you're not taking this as seriously as you need to be. This will be you one day." She paused, her eyes narrowing. "Who were you talking to?"

Y/N's heart sank, knowing that lying to her parents would only make matters worse. She opened her mouth to respond, but her father cut her off.

"Was it that hockey guy?" He scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. "He sucks, he'll never be good enough. I should've paid him off four months ago if I knew he'd be such a distraction."

Y/N's cheeks burned with a mixture of shame and anger. She hated the way her parents spoke about Quinn, as if he were nothing more than a nuisance to be dealt with. She knew they would never approve of their relationship but hearing them talk about him so callously only strengthened her resolve.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N met her parents' gazes, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her. "Quinn, and he's not a distraction.” Her mother's lips pressed into a thin line, disapproval etched into every line of her face.

Y/N's parents exchanged a knowing glance, their eyes filled with a mixture of disappointment and condescension. Her mother, Dedra, was a striking woman in her mid-50s, with perfectly coiffed blonde hair and a designer suit that hugged her slender frame.

Her father, Derek, was a tall, imposing man with salt-and-pepper hair and a perpetual scowl that seemed etched into his chiseled features.

Dedra leaned forward, her elbows resting on the polished mahogany table. "Y/N, darling," she began, her voice dripping with false sweetness, "you know we only want what's best for you. This... Quinn," she said his name as if it left a bitter taste in her mouth, "he's not good for you. He's a distraction, a phase. You'll see that soon enough."

Y/N felt her stomach twist, the all-too-familiar sensation of her parents' manipulation taking hold. She opened her mouth to protest, but Derek cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Enough, Y/N," he growled, his deep voice reverberating through the empty conference room. "You're not a child anymore. It's time you started acting like the adult you claim to be. This company, this life we've built for you - it's all we've ever wanted for you. And you're throwing it away for some lowlife hockey player who barely even made it to the big leagues."

Y/N's cheeks burned with anger and humiliation. She hated the way her parents made her feel, as if her thoughts and feelings were invalid, as if she were nothing more than a pawn in their grand scheme.

Dedra reached across the table, her perfectly manicured hand grasping Y/N's wrist. "Sweetheart," she said, her tone softening, "we love you. We just don't want to see you get hurt. Men like Quinn... they're not in it for the long haul. They'll use you, break your heart, and move on to the next pretty face. You deserve so much more than that."

Y/N felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let her parents see her weakness. She knew they were wrong about Quinn, but their words still cut deep, playing on her insecurities and fears.

Derek stood up, his tall frame looming over her. "This discussion is over, Y/N. You'll end things with this Quinn character, and you'll focus on your work. Your future. Do I make myself clear?"

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. She wanted to scream, to tell her parents that they had no right to control her life, but she knew it would be futile. With a curt nod, she pushed back from the table and stood up, her legs shaking beneath her.

"I have work to do," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "If you'll excuse me."

Without waiting for a response, Y/N turned on her heel and strode out of the conference room, her heart hammering in her chest.

…

The clock on the wall seemed to move at an agonizingly slow pace, each tick echoing through the cramped office space. Y/N leaned back in her chair, the leather creaking beneath her weight as she stared blankly at the computer screen.

The fluorescent lights above cast a harsh glow on her features, highlighting the dark circles under her eyes and the tension in her jaw.

Around her, the office hummed with activity, the sound of ringing phones and the gentle whir of computers filling the air. Y/N felt suffocated by the monotony of it all, the endless hours spent hunched over her desk, pouring over spreadsheets and reports.

As the clock finally struck three, Y/N let out a sigh of relief, the thought of going home filling her with a sense of euphoria. She could almost feel the soft embrace of her couch, the warmth of a glass of wine in her hand as she left the stresses of the day behind.

Just as she was about to log off her computer, a sharp knock at the door startled her from her thoughts. Alexandra, the secretary, peeked her head in, her perfectly styled hair and immaculate makeup a stark contrast to Y/N's tired appearance.

"I sent some of the paperwork to your email," Alexandra said, her voice saccharine sweet. "If you could just finish those up before you leave, that'd help a lot."

Y/N felt a surge of anger course through her veins, her patience wearing thin. She fixed Alexandra with a cold stare, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's three. I get to go home now, you know, like a normal person."

Alexandra's eyes narrowed, her lips pursing in disapproval. Y/N knew that the secretary had always treated her like nothing more than a privileged nepo baby, completely disregarding the fact that Y/N had never used her family's influence to step on any toes or make people do her bidding.

Y/N stood up from her chair, grabbing her purse and jacket from the back of her seat. She could feel Alexandra's eyes boring into her back as she made her way towards the door, but she refused to give the woman the satisfaction of seeing her frustration.

"I'll take care of it in the morning," Y/N said, her hand on the doorknob. "Have a good night, Alexandra."

Without waiting for a response, Y/N stepped out of her office, the sound of her heels clicking against the tiled floor as she made her way towards the elevators.

She could feel the weight of the day lifting from her shoulders with each step, the promise of freedom and the warmth of her bath calling to her like a siren song.

As the elevator doors closed behind her, Y/N let out a deep breath, her eyes fluttering closed as she leaned back against the cool metal wall. She knew that the road ahead would be filled with obstacles, but for now, all she wanted was to lose herself in the comfort of Quinn's arms and forget about the expectations and pressures that threatened to suffocate her.

…

The faucet let out a high-pitched squeak as Y/N twisted the gleaming chrome knob, the sound echoing off the tiled walls of the dimly lit bathroom. The flow of water slowed to a trickle before stopping completely, leaving behind a tub filled with steaming, inviting water.

Tendrils of steam rose from the water, carrying with them the intoxicating aroma.

With a fluid motion, Y/N untied the sash of her plush, white bathrobe, the soft fabric slipping off her shoulders and pooling at her feet. The cool air kissed her bare skin, sending a slight shiver down her spine as she stepped closer to the tub.

Tentatively, she dipped a toe into the water, testing the temperature. The heat was intense, but not unbearable, and Y/N slowly lowered herself into the bath, letting out a contented sigh as the warm water enveloped her body.

The water lapped at her shoulders, the heat penetrating her tired muscles and easing away the knots and tension that had accumulated throughout the day.

Y/N sank deeper into the rose petal-filled bathwater, the sweet, floral aroma wafting through the steamy air. The soft, delicate petals brushed against her skin, their velvety touch a gentle caress. She inhaled deeply, the scent of roses mingling with the subtle vanilla notes of her favorite candle, creating a soothing, intimate atmosphere.

As she leaned back, her hair cascaded over the edge of the tub, the ends dipping into the water and creating gentle ripples on the surface. Her eyes fluttered closed, lashes casting shadows on her flushed cheeks, a result of the bath's intense heat.

The tranquil moment was interrupted by the buzzing of her phone, its vibration echoing through the bathroom. Y/N's eyes snapped open, a curious expression on her face as she reached for the device.

Quinn's name flashed across the screen, his photo – a candid shot of him grinning widely, his dark hair tousled by the wind – accompanying the incoming call.

A smile tugged at the corners of Y/N's lips as she lifted herself from the bath, water droplets cascading down her smooth, sun-kissed skin. She grabbed the phone, tapping the screen to answer the call and putting it on speaker.

"Hi, hottie," Y/N greeted, her voice playful and warm.

Quinn's nerdy, endearing voice filled the bathroom, a chuckle evident in his tone. "Hey there, beautiful. How's my favorite girl doing tonight?"

Y/N reached for her glass of wine, the deep, rich red liquid swirling in the crystal glass. She took a sip, savoring the bold, fruity flavors on her tongue before responding. "Oh, you know, just unwinding after a long day at the office. How about you, handsome?"

"Counting down the minutes until I get to see you tomorrow," Quinn replied, a hint of mischief in his voice. "I can't stop thinking about how stunning you'll look in that red dress."

Y/N laughed softly, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. She set the wine glass down, running her fingers through her damp hair, pushing it away from her face. "Mmm, you sure know how to make a girl feel special," she purred, her tone flirtatious.

"That's because you are special, Y/N," Quinn said, his voice softening. "I can't wait to have you all to myself tomorrow. No work, no distractions, just you and me."

Y/N's heart fluttered at his words, a giddy feeling spreading through her chest. She bit her lower lip, a coy smile playing on her features. "I like the sound of that," she murmured, her voice low and sultry. "You better be prepared to sweep me off my feet, mister."

Quinn's laughter filled the bathroom, warm and infectious. "Oh, I have a few tricks up my sleeve, don't you worry."

As they continued their playful banter, Y/N sank back into the bath, the warm water enveloping her once more. She closed her eyes, a contented sigh escaping her lips as she listened to Quinn's voice, the sound soothing her soul and filling her with anticipation for the day to come.

…

As the morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the bedroom, Y/N's phone buzzed incessantly on the nightstand. The vibrations seemed to echo through the tranquil space, a jarring contrast to the peaceful atmosphere.

Beyond the window, the vibrant green of the trees and grass was visible, a testament to the beauty of the early morning.

The bedroom was a serene oasis, with its pristine white decor creating a sense of calm and comfort. The plush, white comforter enveloped Y/N, its softness lulling her into a state of drowsy contentment.

Y/N stirred, mumbling incoherently as she slowly turned over, her eyelids fluttering open. She squinted, her eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight that flooded the room. As she reached for her phone, the alarm blared to life, the glowing digits on the nightstand displaying a crisp 7:00 AM.

With a groan, Y/N sat up, her hand instinctively reaching for her phone. As she unlocked the device, she was greeted by a string of texts from her mother, Dedra. The messages, even in their digital form, seemed to drip with condescension.

"Y/N, don't forget about the family brunch today. Your father and I expect you to be there, and please, try to look presentable. We have important guests attending, and we can't have you embarrassing us like last time. And do try to be on time, darling. Punctuality is a virtue, after all."

Rolling her eyes, Y/N tossed her phone aside and begrudgingly dragged herself out of bed. She went about her morning routine, selecting a chic and appropriate outfit for the brunch and work before making her way to the kitchen.

As she entered the heart of her home, Y/N couldn't help but smile. The space was everything she had ever dreamed of – a perfect blend of modern elegance and cozy charm. She moved towards the kitchen island, her bare feet padding softly against the cool, hardwood floors.

While her coffee brewed, filling the air with its rich, invigorating aroma, Y/N leaned back against the island, her eyes drifting to the television mounted on the wall. The familiar characters of The 100, flashed across the screen.

She sipped her coffee, savoring the warmth and comfort it provided, as she lost herself in the post-apocalyptic world unfolding before her.

Y/N glanced at her watch, the sleek hands pointing to 8:30, a frustrated huff escaped her lips. She quickly shut off the television and grabbed her essentials, making her way out of the apartment and towards her car.

The drive to the office was usually a time for Y/N to unwind and mentally prepare for the day ahead, with her favorite podcast playing through the speakers.

However, today's episode left her feeling unsettled. The young creator, barely 18 years old, was excitedly announcing her pregnancy. The way she spoke about it, as if it were some sort of miraculous blessing, made Y/N's stomach churn. With a quick tap, she muted the podcast, silence filling the car as she navigated the familiar streets.

As she pulled into the parking lot of the imposing office building, Y/N's eyes immediately landed on Alexandra, who was just a few spots down from her. A wave of dread washed over her, and she quickly locked her car, determined to beat her colleague to the elevator.

Y/N's heels clicked against the pavement as she hurried towards the entrance, her breath coming in short, anxious bursts. She could hear Alexandra's footsteps echoing behind her.

Just as Y/N stepped into the elevator, her manicured finger jabbing the button for the 4th floor, she caught a glimpse of Alexandra rushing towards her. With a sly grin, Y/N pressed the close button, feigning interest in her perfectly polished nails as the doors began to slide shut.

Alexandra stumbled, her hand reaching out in a desperate attempt to stop the elevator, but it was too late. As the doors closed, Y/N looked up, meeting her colleague's gaze with a sad, insincere smile. The look of frustration and annoyance on Alexandra's face was a small victory for Y/N, a momentary triumph in the never-ending battle of office politics.

The elevator began its ascent, Y/N leaned back against the cool metal wall, her eyes closing for a brief moment. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm her racing heart and push away the lingering unease from the podcast. The day had barely begun, and already she felt drained.

It dinged, signaling her arrival on the 4th floor, Y/N straightened her shoulders and put on a brave face. She stepped out into the hallway.

…

The constant cacophony of rings and beeps filled Y/N's ears for the next three hours, the incessant noise drilling into her skull. The cramped office space felt more like a chicken coop than a professional workspace, and Y/N could feel her sanity slowly slipping away with each passing minute.

Just as she thought she couldn't take it anymore, Dedra peeked her head into the office, her critical gaze sweeping over the room before she entered. With a sense of entitlement, she perched herself on the edge of Y/N's desk, her perfectly manicured fingers toying with a strand of Y/N's hair.

"You know, you look stressed, Y/N," Dedra remarked, her tone laced with false concern. Her eyes then traveled down to Y/N's attire, and her face contorted into a look of disgust. "Is that what you're wearing to brunch?" she asked, her voice dripping with disapproval. "I guess it will do."

Before Y/N could respond, Dedra abruptly stood up and headed towards the door, gesturing for her daughter to follow. Y/N huffed in frustration, the weight of her mother's judgment pressing down on her. She quickly logged off her computer and gathered her belongings, trailing behind Dedra as they made their way through the office.

As they walked, Y/N could feel the eyes of her coworkers following them, their gazes a mix of curiosity and envy. She held her head high, refusing to let their attention faze her. Dedra, on the other hand, seemed to revel in the attention, her stride confident and purposeful as she led the way.

When they reached the front of the building, a sleek black limo slowly approached, its polished exterior gleaming in the sunlight. Y/N couldn't help but roll her eyes at the ostentatious display.

"Why do we need a limo for brunch?" she asked, exasperation evident in her voice. "Could you guys be any more extra?"

Dedra shot her a sharp look, her lips pursed in disapproval. "Appearances matter, Y/N," she said, her tone clipped. "We have a reputation to uphold, and arriving in style is part of that."

Y/N bit back a retort, knowing that arguing with her mother was a futile endeavor. As the limo pulled up to the curb, the driver promptly exited the vehicle, opening the door for them with a practiced bow.

Dedra climbed in first, her movements graceful and refined. Y/N followed suit, sinking into the plush leather seats with a sigh.

The vehicle pulled away from the curb, and Y/N watched as the office building grew smaller in the distance. She knew that the brunch would be just another performance, a carefully orchestrated display of wealth and status that she was expected to participate in.

…

message me to be added to the tag list. hope you enjoyed it. please lmk how you liked it.

(also I just made this idea today and I can't believe I already wrote chapter 1)

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minniesmutt · 7 months ago

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⚠︎ ━━━ IN...

⚠︎ ━━━ SS + WC: 8 + 2K

⚠︎ ━━━ CONTENT: ANXIETY, TOXIC EX,

“I’m here,” Y/n breathed as she approached the building

“Okay. There’s a parking garage next to the building. Park in there. i gave the building management your car description so they shouldn’t say anything about you parking here.”

“Alright.”

Y/n followed his instructions and found a spot to park.

“I’m gonna meet you in the lobby. can you get over there for me?”

“Yeah. can you stay on the phone?”

“of course.”

Y/n switched her phone off the car stereo and turned off her car. She grabbed her stuff and got out of her car. making her way towards the door where it said “LOBBY”

She could hear Jeongin on the over end with Deiji; could even hear the little coos and babbles.

“Astrid and ji are almost here by the way. should be another ten minutes till they get Deiji. Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“No. I was trying to figure out what to eat when Jihyun texted me…”

“Okay. We’ll order dinner. You can stay over in my guest room so you don’t have to go home.”

“You don’t have to do that for me,” y/n said, opening the door and entering the lobby

“Y/n, you’re creating a whole human inside of you. The least I can do is buy you food and give you a sense of safety.”

She heard an elevator ding before she saw the doors opening and Jeongin walking out with a baby girl in his arms. he ended the call and quickly made his way over to her. y/n met him halfway and wrapped her arms around him.

“You’re okay,” Jeongin said as he held her against him.

“Thank you,” Y/n muttered

“Come on,” Jeongin ushered her towards the elevators and took her up to his unit. getting her settled on the couch as soon as they got in.

Jeongin put Deiji down in one of the stand-up toys and sat with Y/n

“Still shaken up?” he asked

“Yeah,” y/n sighed

“Does he have your location?”

“No. I turned it off when we broke up.”

“Still texting you?”

“Don’t know. ended up muting the conversation.”

“Can I see?”

Y/n nodded and handed him her unlocked phone. Jeongin took it from her hand.

“Sorry. That was the only thing I could think of,” Jeongin sighed

“It’s fine,” Y/n sniffled

“Come here,” Jeongin pulled her into his arms.

Y/n wrapped her arms around him and hid herself in his chest. “I’m sorry…”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Jeongin told her.

Y/n buried her face in Jeongin’s chest as Deiji hit one of her toys. The baby toys filled the silence as Jeongin did his best to comfort the mother of his child. A knock at the door interrupted it.

Y/n jumped a bit and Jeongin checked his phone. Seeing the texts from his two friends that they were there. “Just Ji and (Astrid).”

Jeongin unraveled himself from her and got the door. Letting his two friends inside. Y/n said hi to the couple and (Astrid) checked on her. Jisung grabbed his daughter and the diaper bag.

The two didn’t stay long, letting the new soon-to-be-parents be. Jeongin locked the door and walked back over to the couch. Settling back down next to her and grabbed his phone, “Dinner?”

“‘M not hungry…”

“You don’t have to eat it right away, but you need to eat,” Jeongin said

Y/n nodded in response. Jeongin quickly ordered something he knew she’d eat before pulling her back into his arms.

“You’re good at taking care of people,” Y/n said

“Can thank (Astird) for that,” Jeongin said

“So she told me. Putting you through hell,” Y/n said

“Yeah. But I wouldn't change anything in my life.”

“Even us sleeping together and getting pregnant?”

“No. I wouldn’t change it.”

The two sat on the couch— only getting up to eat which Jeongin was proud he got her to do when the food got there. Ending up with her laying back against him, his hands rubbing her belly. A random Netflix show playing on the TV. Y/n looked down at his fingers gently drumming on her belly. For a moment, living in a little fantasy that they were a little family.

“You okay?” Jeongin asked

“Yeah,” Y/n nodded, not realizing she started crying

“Why are you crying?” Jeongin sat up more

“Don’t know,” Y/n said, wiping away the tears.

Jeongin grabbed the box of tissues from the coffee table and handed it to her. Y/n thanked him and wiped away the tears more as he rubbed her back. “You want to talk about it?”

“No.” Y/n shook her head

“What do you need?”

“Think I just need to sleep.”

Jeongin nodded and helped her up from the couch. Leading her down the hallway of the penthouse to the guest room. “Text me if you need anything. Okay? And I’m just over there if I don't reply.”

“Thanks,” Y/n smiled and walked into the room. She closed the door behind her and sat on the bed.

Y/n sighed and set her phone on the nightstand and crawled under the covers of the bed. Trying to get some sleep but she was too worried to sleep. Eventually giving up and walking down the hallway to Jeongin’s room. The door was opened and he wasn’t inside so she wandered out to the living room.

The TV was still playing while he was sitting on the couch with his phone. He looked over as he heard her walking in. “Thought you were sleeping.”

“Tried, can’t.”

“You wanna talk?”

Y/n nodded and sat next to him, “Do you think I can stay for the week? just the whole thing with—“

“Yeah. That’s fine. I can take you to get some stuff from your place tomorrow,” Jeongin answered

“Thank you,” Y/n smiled

“Something else bugging you?”

“Yeah, but nothing for you to worry about.”

“I’m going to worry either way.”

“Just, earlier when i was crying, i got in my head for second about us being a real family. And then i remembered we weren’t together and I always thought when I got pregnant I'd be in a relationship and getting to have a family.”

“And it’s hurting you’re not?”

“Just a little. That’s not on you though. we agreed to co-parent and that’s that. I think it just hurts more because I’m actually starting to like you in a romantic sense but—“

Jeongin nodded, “What if we tried?”

“In, you don’t —“

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t feel the same, Y/n.”

“Huh?”

“Okay,” Jeonging turned to face her, “I’d be an idiot not to admit I thought you were pretty when we were at S-class, even though we were drunk and didn’t remember anything. I’d also be dumb not to say I’ve thought about us as a family, dating and raising a kid. My family already likes you, which is a bonus. I’m not saying I'm in love because this is all fresh and it doesn’t feel like we’re there, but I do like you as more than a friend or someone I'm raising a kid with.”

Y/n looked at him, tears welling in her eyes before she leaned for and wrapped her arms around him. Jeongin wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. “I know you're dealing with your ex but my offer is going to stay as long as we have the baby.”

“I wanna try,” Y/n said as she pulled away from the hug, “I’m tired of Jihyun holding onto my life when he fucks it up. I wanna move on from that.”

“We’ll go slow then, not rush anything.”

“Okay,” Y/n nodded as Jeongin wiped her tears

“Okay,” Jeongin answered, “How about we get some sleep and go out for breakfast in the morning after getting some stuff from your place.”

“I’d like that.”

“Come on,” Jeongin helped her up again

“Can you… stay with me? maybe?” Y/n asked

“Yeah.”

Jeongin led her to his room and let her get the bed before him. Jeongin climbed into the bed behind her and wrapped an arm around her, laying his hand on her growing stomach. Y/n smiled to herself as she laid her hand over his and closed her eyes.

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ryukatters · 2 months ago

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x gn!reader

Content: (loosely) based on that phantom parade scene of gojo throwing a fit bc he ate something spicy after going on that treasure hunt thing (I know I’m so late idk if anyone will get that reference anymore), fluff, are they lovers or not? idk you can decide

One distressed phone call has you sprinting from your office to some random alleyway in the middle of the city. You’re nervous to see what could make the Gojo Satoru sound so…afraid?

The grip around your phone tightens as you navigate through the bustling streets of Tokyo. You zoom in on the map, trying to sort out which little lines will take you to Gojo’s live location (which he insisted on sharing with you months ago, on the basis that you did the same.)

It doesn’t take you long to zero in on him.

“What took you so long?” Gojo cries out, “I’ve been dying for the last 15 minutes!”

You scan him for any signs for external injury. But that’s impossible, you think, he’d never let his technique down long enough for that to happen. Internally maybe? Did he ingest poison? Was it starting to affect his brain? You’re not sure what you’d explain to Jujutsu Headquarters if you bring the strongest back to them dead.

“I think this might be the end,” he sniffles. “There’s still so many things I want to do. Like trying that new teppanyaki place in Roppongi. Hey, you think they’re taking reservations right now?”

It’s decided. The only thing wrong with Satoru Gojo is his frivolousness. Maybe what’s wrong with you is that you’re willing to drop everything for him at the simple call of your name.

“Gojo.”

“Satoru,” he chirps.

“Satoru.”

“Yes, my pookie bear?”

You click your teeth in annoyance. “Don’t call me that. What happened?”

“Attempted murder,” Gojo deadpans. Instead of elaborating, he pulls out a piece of candy from his pocket and unwraps it. He proffers the treat to you, slapping your hand away with a frown when you reach for it. “Say ahhh~”

You roll your eyes and sigh. You know him well enough to know he wouldn’t poison you. Knowing Satoru, he probably just got a treat that wasn’t sweet enough for his eccentric tastes. Gojo shoves the candy in your mouth the minute you open it the smallest amount. He waits for your critique, nodding as he says, “Gross, right? Why is it so spicy? I thought my tongue was going to fall off.”

Your eyes light up as the flavors of the curry-flavored candy dance in your mouth. “This is so good! You’re such a baby, Gojo. It’s not even spicy.”

Horror paints Satoru’s face. “It is! My mouth feels like hell. Your tastebuds must be broken or something,” Gojo huffs, crossing his arms petulantly, giving him the appearance of an overgrown child. “And who makes curry flavored candy anyways?”

“Why don’t you just use your technique or something? Make it so that the food doesn’t touch your tongue?”

Gojo looks at you incredulously before he blanches. “Unlike you, I actually care about what I put inside my body.”

You return the look tenfold, eyebrows raising in disbelief. “Oh really?”

“Really really.”

“Then what’s in that bag you’re holding?”

You nearly miss the barely imperceptible shift in Gojo’s blindfold as his eyes widen, hiding said plastic bag full of confectioneries behind him, hidden from your prying gaze.

“Sweets stimulate my brain! You know that. It’s brain food.”

“Uh huh.”

“C’monnnn,” Satoru whines, bringing forth said bag, revealing all the various goodies he’d collected throughout the hour. “Are you cruel enough to deny a guy a sweet treat? Ijichi’s been bitching all morning about all these missions!”

Gojo doesn’t give you a chance to retort. “I finished my missions in record time! I think that’s means for a celebration. A prize, even.” He lifts his blindfold up then, revealing a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You bite. “What kind of prize?”

Satoru eyes you up and down with a saccharine smile. He pretends to be deep in thought, “a kiss, maybe?”

You follow suit, crossing your arms as you hum. “Hmm…I don’t know. Seems to me you’ve won a bunch of things today already.”

“Not enough.”

He grabs you by the arms, pulling you until you’re just a breath away. His hands slide down to your own, enveloping them in a warmth that makes you tremble with want. “Indulge me a little, will you?”

Satoru knows that you will. You always do. Even the most unreasonable of requests, like asking you to kiss him after you ran a marathon through Tokyo just to find out he was throwing a fit over confectioneries.

He lets you close the distance, savoring the way your scent invades his senses.

He pulls away rather abruptly, a delicate frown painting his features. “What’s wrong?” You ask.

“My mouth feels like it’s on fire again,” he pouts.

#curry flavored candy sounds vile i’m not going to lie maybe gojo has a point #i love curry and i love candy but i don’t think they’d make a good combination #satoru needs two or three sweet treats a day MINIMUM #kat’s writing #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo fluff

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rentsturner · 9 months ago

Text

Start To Finish - A.T. - 1

chapter 1 - the trials and tribulations of a first pet.

a.n: this should be a multiple part series, with hopefully 2 more parts in the works. I've had this written for months, its been a long time coming. Hope yous enjoy.

warnings: swearing, brief mentions of animal death

-- 1 --

You didn’t mean to bring a kitten home when you set off for work this morning. But sometimes the cat distribution system works in mysterious ways. In this case, fate had placed a small, wet bundle of fluff on the side of the road, the road that you drive home on every evening. Your headlights catch the tiny kitten weakly moving amongst the undergrowth, and you almost think you’ve imagined it, but when you slow down and take a proper look, it's obviously a small animal.

You stop the car and get out, covering your head to shield yourself from the pouring rain, using your phone torch to find the little cat. You locate it quickly, mewling and shivering weakly in your hands as you gently pick it up. It’s black, fur slicked back in the rain so it looks almost oily, its tiny pink mouth opening to meow for help, probably for its mother. With an ache in your heart, you wrap it in your coat and place it carefully on your passenger seat, then without a second thought, you take it home.

The drive home goes by in a flash and when you get to your apartment door, trying to balance the kitten in one hand and your bags and keys in the other, you realise you have no idea how you’re going to explain this to your boyfriend, Alex. It’s not that he doesn’t like cats, well, maybe he's never been particularly keen on them, but you've never discussed having a pet before, both accepting that you're probably too busy to give it the attention it needs. The small kitten lets out a high pitched mewl, reminding you that the poor thing is cold and wet. You’ll just have to deal with Alex later.

You push through the door, dumping your bags and soaking wet coat on the floor, taking the kitten straight to the bathroom to find a warm towel. You hear a shout from the study, a muted “Hey, babe!”.

“Hey, Al.” You shout back, probably sounding a little distracted - you are.

You wrap the kitten in a towel, gently rubbing the moisture from its soft fur. It really is adorable. Jet black fur and big orange eyes. As you warm it up, it begins to purr, so intensely you can’t believe the noise is coming from such a little body. It can’t be more than 2 weeks old.

“Love? You alright?”

Footsteps tread heavily approaching the bathroom, and suddenly Alex is opening the door. He obviously heard the meowing. You turn, cradling the kitten in your arms - caught red handed.

“What-”

“Alex, let me explain.”

“That’s a cat. A kitten.” Alex points at the animal in your arms, as if it wasn’t obvious enough.

“Yes.”

“Why on earth are you holding a kitten?”

“It was on the side of the road and it was cold and wet and-”

Alex scoffs, cutting you off. “We are not having a kitten.”

“Why not? We-”

“Are you kidding? We don’t have food, litter, toys, we need- we need bowls and a collar and-”

“All of those things we can buy. That’s no big deal.” You adjust the bundle in your arms so that the kitten is looking up at you, its big orange eyes blinking slowly up at you. You feel like a mother looking at your newborn child. “Just look at him, Al.”

“Oh, it's a he, is it?”

“Well, as far as I can tell.”

Alex rubs a hand over his face, tugging on his hair, a habit of his when he’s stressed. He looks at the kitten, then you, then the kitten again. “I can’t believe this..”

“Hold him.”

“No, I don’t want to-”

“Hold him.” You practically shove the kitten into Alex’s arms and he’s forced to cradle it, looking down at the mewling little form. You see his face immediately soften as he feels the kitten purring. The cat’s tiny mouth opens in a wide yawn and his eyes start to drift closed.

“See? Isn’t he adorable?”

“He’s alright, I guess.” Alex brings a careful finger up to stroke the kitten’s forehead, smoothing down his damp fur and scratching his chin. You watch him for a moment, feel a soft ache in your chest at the gentleness of his actions. You’ve persuaded him, you know you have. Alex might not have accepted it yet, but this kitten is staying in your lives.

After a few moments, Alex breaks his silence. “Only if I can name him.”

You’re confused. “What?”

“We can keep him, but only if I can name him.”

Your face breaks into a grin at his words and you have to stop yourself from jumping up and down. You grab Alex’s arm, smiling up at him.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. You’re right. He’s kinda cute. It’s a boy, yeah?”

You nod in agreement and Alex scratches behind the kitten’s ears, purrs still emanating from it like a little engine. He studies his face carefully.

“He looks like a Julian.”

“Oh absolutely not, he is not being called Julian.”

Alex pouts and opens his mouth to protest, but you cut him off before he can argue.

“Anything but Julian. Second choice, please?”

Alex huffs and rolls his eyes, before going silent for a few minutes. Then he decides.

“Fine. He’s called Bowie.”

You smile. It’s a good name. And it suits this loud, demanding and loving cat that’s managed to worm itself into your hearts within a matter of hours.

“Okay. Bowie, it is.”

You both look down at your new pet, but he’s fast asleep, purring away quietly in Alex’s arms.

-- 2 --

The next day, you and Alex wake up early, intending to go and buy supplies from a local store. Bowie slept soundly all night, cuddled up in one of Alex’s old jumpers at the foot of your bed. In fact, you all slept soundly, tired from the excitement of the evening and anticipation of your new life with a kitten.

“Are you sure we can leave him alone?” Alex watches the sleeping kitten with intense fascination, taking in his little huffs, the way his paws shake a little as he dreams. He’s enraptured.

“Al, we’ll only be half an hour, it’ll be fine.”

“But what if something happens to him?” Alex reaches out to stroke Bowie and he rolls over onto his back at the feel of Alex’s touch, yawning and presenting his stomach for tickles. You coo at him and scratch under his chin, while Alex rubs his belly. You consider Alex’s question.

“Like what? He’s safe here. Anyway, only hours ago you were suggesting I should have left him on the side of the road!”

Alex chuckles. “You’re not gonna let me forget that, are you?”

You laugh with him and shake your head.

“Look, I'm gonna call Jamie anyway and just ask him to watch him. Just to be safe. He’s only 5 minutes away.”

You nod, accepting Alex’s worry. It won’t do Bowie any harm to have some company while you’re gone.

An hour later, Jamie arrives. You explain where you’ve set up some newspaper as a makeshift litter tray, as well as the bowl of milk that you’ve been using to feed Bowie until you get some kitten food. You know he shouldn’t really be having milk, but it’s not like you had spare kitten food lying around in the cupboards.

Alex brings Bowie out of the bedroom while you’re talking to Jamie, cradling him like a newborn and tickling his chin. Your heart soars yet again as you watch your boyfriend introduce Jamie to your new pet, both of them cooing and giggling as Bowie tries to catch Jamie’s finger tickling his belly.

“Did she explain everything to you? You know where he pees? And make sure he doesn’t get out, okay, and-”

“Al, mate, I’ve got a toddler. I’m pretty sure I can look after a kitten.”

Alex nods in acceptance, kissing Bowie’s forehead before placing him on the floor. The kitten immediately goes racing off to the kitchen, probably looking for trouble.

“Alright, just look after him, yeah?”

“Come on, Al, the quicker we go, the sooner we’ll be back.”

Alex smiles at you and allows you to lead him to the door, both of you calling goodbye to Jamie as you leave the apartment.

---

The pet store is enormous and it takes you and Alex a few moments to find all the kitten stuff. You fill your basket with wet food, dry food, kitten milk, treats - it looks like enough to feed a whole colony of cats, more than enough to fill the scrap of fur now residing in your home. Then you choose a litter tray and several bags of litter, before you finally move on to the toys section.

Alex decides to test each toy before choosing them, shaking, throwing and squeezing each colourful mouse and ball, debating intensely on which Bowie will like the most. You’re sure Bowie would be satisfied with a cardboard box, but Alex is obviously getting into his little experiments over which toy is best, so you leave him to it. You wander over to the collar section. There’s a whole array of collars in all sorts of materials and colours, some with bells and tags. You want something understated and smart, and your eyes land on a black leather collar with silver stitching. It would suit Bowie perfectly. You don’t think he’ll be wearing it much as he’s going to be an indoor cat, but of course you will have to get your first pet a collar.

You’re admiring the quality of the leather under your fingers when you feel a kiss on your cheek, followed by the feel of Alex’s hair tickling your temple. You turn and peck his lips before taking a look at the abundance of fluffy objects in his arms. He’s picked out about 8 toys; squeaky mice, a tunnel, bouncy balls, a mouse on a stick, some catnip.

“Got enough there?” You tease Alex as he balances the items precariously under his chin as you head over to the till. He just rolls his eyes at you, dumping all the toys and food on the conveyor belt and fishing out his wallet from his back pocket.

The till cashier smiles at you knowingly as she scans all the items through, having seen many other young couples going through the same experience with their first pet. When she comes to the collar, she looks up at the two of you.

“Would you like this engraving? It’s only an extra fiver.”

You’re about to answer and say no, it's no bother, but Alex has other thoughts.

“Please. His name’s Bowie. B-O-W-I-E. And could you do a little lightning symbol maybe?”

“Of course, sir. It will be ten minutes.”

You wait for the engraving patiently, arm linked around Alex’s waist with your head resting comfortably on his shoulder. His palm rubs up and down your side gently.

“I’m so glad you found him yesterday.” Alex murmurs, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“Me too. Imagine. He would have just died there, all alone.” Your heart aches at the thought of a kitten living such a short and miserable life. It makes you want to cry, and you’re not the only one - Alex lets out a whine and squeezes your shoulder firmly.

“It’s ok. He’s got us now. We’re gonna look after him.”

You nod and smile up at Alex, who gives you a small smile in return, leaning down to peck your lips gently.

“Hey, your collar is ready!” You both admire the silver engraving. It’s perfect, “Bowie” written out in curling letters, with a little lightning bolt underneath. A lightning bolt for a little cat that you found one stormy night. Fitting.

---

“How was he?”

Jamie scratches the back of his neck and chuckles.

“Well, he kept trying to climb up my leg, but otherwise fine. Been fast asleep for the last 15 minutes. Think he tired himself out.”

You laugh at Jamie’s answer, imagining the terror on his face as Bowie tries to claw his way up his trousers. Toddlers certainly don’t do that.

“Cheers, Jamie.” Alex claps his friend round the shoulder and you leave them to talk while you go and find the naughty kitten. You see him curled up on the sofa, little chest puffing up and down as he dreams about climbing trousers. You sit next to him carefully, stroking his fluffy black fur. His little nose so perfectly formed, ears twitching as he hears footsteps walking into the room, the slam of the door as Jamie heads home. Alex’s hand joins yours in smoothing down Bowie’s fur.

“You've been a naughty boy, eh Bowie?” Alex teases the cat, who’s absolutely oblivious to his words, still asleep, but now purring quietly. After a few more tickles, his eyes open slowly and he yawns, letting out a high pitched whine. You coo at him, scratching under his chin as he stretches his limbs.

---

That night is eventful, to say the least.

You’re awoken at 3am by needle sharp claws poking into your forehead, followed by a series of meows and chirps as Bowie tries his very best to wake you up. You yawn and roll over, trying to ignore the cat, but he climbs over you and starts batting at your face. You can’t help but giggle, you should be annoyed but looking into the eyes of such an adorable creature is enough to quell your temper in seconds. You give him a quick stroke and he purrs and arches his back under your touch. Then you gently pick him up and place him on Alex’s side of the bed, closing your eyes and attempting to go back to sleep.

A few minutes later, you hear a groan, followed by sheets rustling. Then a distinct yelp. You have to stifle another giggle as you picture Bowie digging his claws into Alex’s face.

“Bowie- fuck, its 2am, what the…”

Alex’s voice is deep and hoarse with sleep as he berates the cat, you turn over to face him and see his eyebrows scrunched together, mouth turned down in a frown as he pats at the tiny scratch on his head. His eyes are only half open, struggling to rouse his brain from the comforts of sleep. Bowie is kneading happily on the duvet, excited that he’s finally getting the attention he wanted, doesn’t matter if it's good or bad.

Alex notices you looking at him and huffs. So dramatic.

“His claws are surprisingly sharp, y’know?”

“Alex, he’s a kitten, he just wants attention.”

Alex groans and looks up at the ceiling, rubbing a hand over his face and tugging at his hair. Bowie crawls on top of him and begins kneading on his chest, purring away happily.

“God, it’s like having a baby. A baby with claws.”

You giggle at his comments. It’s true, you didn’t think you’d be woken up in the night by a needy child so soon in your relationship with Alex.

“He’s cute though. You can’t deny that.”

Alex sighs as he looks at the small kitten purring gently on top of him. He strokes him gently, one of his hands almost covering the entire length of Bowie - he’s still so tiny. Apart from this little mishap, he’s been very well behaved so far, you couldn’t have expected any better. And the naughtiness just makes him all the more cuter.

“Aye, it’s a good job that he's cute.”

You manage to get to sleep eventually, lying Bowie down so he’s sandwiched between you, while you and Alex face each other. The kitten falls asleep in minutes, obviously enjoying your combined warmth and attention, his purring slowly gets quieter as he falls deeper into sleep.

You reach out to stroke Alex’s hair, scratching at his scalp then smoothing his brown strands back over his forehead. He leans forward to kiss your forehead, trying his best not to disturb Bowie.

“Goodnight again, love.”

“Night, Al.” You whisper, closing your eyes and basking in the comfort of feeling both your kitten and your boyfriend sleeping next to you.

---

When you wake up in the morning, you pat the duvet around you, feeling for Bowie, but you can’t find him. That’s weird. You didn’t notice him leaving in the night. You sit up and look around, breathing out a chuckle as you see where Bowie has placed himself.

He’s balanced precariously on the edge of Alex’s pillow, curled up on himself with his tail flung over Alex’s face, wrapped around his hairline. Alex is fast asleep, snoring away softly, his chapped lips parted, face relaxed in the way that only sleep can make it.

They look absolutely adorable, and you can’t help yourself as you grab your phone and snap a quick picture of them. You’ll show it to Alex the next time he complains about being woken up in the night.

---

End of Part 1

---

for reference this is how Bowie looks in chapter 1 (except with orange eyes)

Tags:

@ohladymoon @martinipoliz @almluv @zayndrider@madnesstaking0ver@atticssmellgood @leafjoon @turnerside @turnertable @yourstartreatment

( if you wanted to be added/removed lemme know)

#alex turner #Alex turner x reader #Alex turner fic #alex turner fanfic #Alex turner imagine #arctic monkeys #my writing

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