#I need some of those goggles…

[smellroy]

Noticed these goggles around Tozer’s neck but can’t remember a scene with him wearing them

[threeunrelateddescriptors]

Applying lots of body lotion to the area also helps slide tiny embedded fibers out and helps keep them from re-embedding before your next shower.

We need to stop engineering blatantly stupid materials

[whirlybirbs]

i am on my hands and knees begging for a shred of keigo takami baby bird kfc angel content from you, if you write hawks i will finally know true peace

— MEET & GREET ; 1 / 2 ; HAWKS ; 啓悟

summary: you manage to snag two VIP meet & greet tickets for your nephew's birthday. he insists you join him. part one of two. pairing: keigo takami ; hawks / f!reader word count: 3.1k tags: humor, meet-cute, pro hero culture, birbs ignores all relevant timelines yet again, fluff, phone-flirting, hawks is great with kids, t+, relatable pre-hook up hesitation, they will fuck next time a/n: hawks is the chappell roan of the mha universe. stop touching him. this man actually changed my brain chemistry in early 2023 but we don't need to talk about that. anways, this poll was on the ropes all day and i made the executive choice to feed the hawks birblets.

You feel like your face has been set in a semi-permanent cringe all morning. 

In your right hand, you're clutching your half-finished iced coffee for dear life. In your other, you're clinging to your nephew as he drags you through the convention center — one of the bright red wings of his beloved, homemade cosplay has started to go lopsided, and the six-year-old excitedly tugs it back in place as he tries to yank you forward.

"C'mon! We're gonna be late!" 

This really wasn't your scene.

Fan conventions had a way of making your skin itch. The amount of sexy All Mights you've seen this morning alone has to be some sort of milestone indicator for the environment. Whether nature is healing or dying, though, you have no idea. 

If you had it your way, you'd spend the rest of the day mingling through the artist stalls — but, to your nephew Hayami's point, the two of you had somewhere to be.

Your VIP meet-and-greet badge swings as you trip up and laugh. "Okay! Okay, slow down! You're about to yank my arm off!"

It was the best birthday gift imaginable for Hayami. You officially cemented your title as The Coolest Aunt Ever when you managed to snag the two VIP convention meet-and-greet tickets (complete with a professional photo and two signed copies of the convention's annual poster) after a harrowing seven hours in an online Ticketmaster line. There were only a hundred of them sold — and sure, you coulda thrown that pretty hunk of cash into a college fund for Hayami, but he was deeply in his hero phase. 

Originally you expected that Hayami's father, your brother-in-law, would want to go.

But, no, Hayami himself insisted you come with him.

After all, you helped me with my costume, he begged, I wouldn't have been able to do it without you!

That you did. Many a hot glue gun burn was suffered at the hands of those damn red feathers. If you squint from far away, the cosplay isn't half bad considering the thrift and dollar-store materials. It wasn't one of those inch-to-inch replicas, but it worked. 

He's like a cute, bouncing mini Hawks. Complete with goggles and wings.

And Hayami is happy. And that's all that matters to you. 

The line is already pretty long, and Hayami runs his gloved hands along the line barriers as he races to his spot, audibly wooshing the whole way — just like Hawks does, probably. His badge jingles, and he hops to a stop as you come up behind him and pat his head. The six-year-old stands up on his tippy-toes, trying to see around the Miss Midnight fan in front of them. 

"Can you see him?" he chatters excitedly, "Ti, can you?"

He's called you Ti ever since he could speak. Auntie was too long, and the shortened version has stuck. 

You hop up onto your tippy-toes, mimicking him — and you swear you catch a glimpse of a crimson feather plumage over the gathered heads of the other meet-and-greet fans. It might be another cosplayer.

"I dunno," you whisper, your eyes darting to your phone's lock screen, "It's supposed to start any minute—"

The telltale roar of fanfare lets you know exactly who has just arrived. 

Hayami's excitement is palpable. Without a word, you're hauling him up and perching him on your shoulders. His hands land in your hair, and you can feel his smile from down here. 

"Ti! It's him!"

The line starts moving not long after, and you finish your iced coffee while Hayami stays perched on your shoulders, utterly starstruck. You weave through the barriers, moving up a few feet every minute, until you're only four or five people away from where Hawks sits behind a long table. 

You have to admit, the guy is pretty cute. 

Cuter than the fan-cams make him out to be, even. 

Sandy blonde hair, sharp gold eyes, and big wings. There's no doubt in your mind he's showboating, but as people approach the table, you notice this hesitant twitch ripple through the red feathers every time someone gets a little too close. 

That cringe from earlier washes over your face again as a girl reaches over the table to roughly run her fingers across one of his flight feathers. 

It's Keigo's least favorite part of all this. 

I mean, there's a part of him that gets it. He's the #2 Hero in all of Japan. He's a big deal. He's top of the popularity polls, he's the people's bird, y'know? He's a marketed commodity that sells out each and every time. 

But, that doesn't mean he likes being touched.

Especially the wings. Hands off the wings.

"Hey, Hayami?" you ask, tilting your head up as you both step forward.

You can feel the sudden nervousness creeping up on Hayami as he nods and looks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

"Make sure you ask for permission if you touch his wings, okay?" you say gently, muscling him down from your shoulders and doing a once over on his mini-Hawks cosplay, "And remember to tell him your name!"

Hayami nods, his nerves palpable as he realizes the two of you are next. 

On instinct, his hand shoots out and grips yours for dear life. 

And then, one of the marketers waves the two of you forward.

The first word that comes to Keigo's mind is MILF. You're cute. Real cute. Definitely not the usual sort he meets at conventions, and definitely not the usual sort that buys a ticket to his meet-and-greets. The kid clinging to your arm is arguably even cuter, and Hawks can't hide the blooming grin on his face when the pair of you step forward.

"Woa-ho!" he yaps from behind the patterned table, "Dude! Nice outfit!"

Hayami is panicking. You can tell from his shocked silence as the two of you step forward. You bend at the knees, squatting to your nephew's height, then encourage him to go ahead, go on. His big, brown eyes bob from you to Hawks. 

"Go ahead, Hayami," you encourage softly, "Say hi."

Oh, shit. You're really cute. Is this your kid? Nah, no way. You're way too young to be his mom. Unless—

You've seriously got him weighing the pros and cons of step-fatherhood and he doesn't even know your name. 

He could do stepdad shit at twenty-six. Right?

"Hi, Mr. Hawks," comes the shy voice of the mini Hawks before him; the sandy blonde's chest clenches. 

This is too fuckin' cute.

"Heh, hey kid," he chirps back, leaning forward on the table as his mouth curves into a friendly grin; Hawks' eyes are trained on the kid's growing smile, "What's your name?"

"H-Hayami."

"It's cool t' meetcha, Hayami," Hawks parrots as your own proud smile grows. There's relief flooding your shoulders. Thank god, Hayami didn't choke the clutch moment, "I like your wings, lil' dude!"

Hayami gives a little turn, wiggling his prized, handmade possession. His confidence is building; the compliment lights the kid's cheeks up. 

"My aunt helped me make them!" Hayami chatters, his eyes brightening from behind the flight goggles strapped to his head, "She says I need to ask for your permission to touch your feathers!"

Keigo's gold eyes slip to your face. You give him an apologetic grimace, your eyes flicking to the girl beyond the VIP area still screaming about how she touched him, she touched Hawks, oh my god. You mouth out a silent apology.

Hawks' finds himself a little speechless. Doesn't happen often. 

He's not used to having some say in how he's objectified and consumed.

A sandy brow quirks as he pushes his yellow-tinted visor up, and into his hair. He seems shocked. It's not an expression you've seen on the #2 before — and in the last few weeks, you've seen plenty of Hawks content during Hayami's cosplaying journey. The reference material is pretty expansive.

"That's real considerate, chickadee — I appreciate that," his voice is soft; his smile is a little looser, "C'mere, Hayami, you wanna hold a feather while I sign your poster?"

This is, like, the best day of Hayami's life. 

Hawks brings his visor back down. 

You stand to full height, wringing your purse's strap, watching Hayami hold both hands out as one of the delicate pieces of plumage floats into his hands on command. He cradles it like treasure, his big brown eyes glimmering with new-found amazement. 

You step forward, and place a hand on Hayami's shoulder as he gently ushers his hands toward your face. "Ti, look, isn't this, like, the coolest thing ever — it's one of Hawks' feathers!"

Hawks' eyes flick up to the two of you as his pen darts across the two VIP package posters. There's a smirk on his face as he pays half attention to the task of signing. 

And scribbling his number on the back of one.

"I see that," you chuckle, leaning in to inspect the beautiful, crimson feather, "Make sure you say th—"

Before you finish your sentence, the very feather in question darts up to tickle the tip of your nose. Your immediate reaction is to scrunch your nose and grin. It's not so much ticklish as it is gentle. For good measure, Hawks gives Hayami a little brush on the cheek, too. The boy descends into delighted laughter, allowing the feather to zip back through the air and into its designated place in his wings. 

Hawks is smirking.

"Alright you two," comes the level voice of the marketer; the camera in her hands is bulky, and a signifier that their time meeting #2 is nearly up, "Let's get in nice and close for a photo!"

The table proves to be a bit of a pain, but you bend down to Hayami's height as Hawks leans over the table and gives you both bunny ears. The camera flash burns bright in your eyes as Hayami's hand darts into yours again. 

"Here you two go," Hawks rumbles easily; he's standing now, and you find yourself yet again struck by how handsome he is. He smells like summer air and some expensive cologne you'll probably never know the name of. Definitely one of his sponsors. 

You take both posters, as Hayami's excitement seems to overflow and he's nearly buzzing with excitement to know he has Hawks' autograph. The boy bounces at your heels as he clutches his signed copy of the annual convention poster. His big, brown eyes are wide with pure joy. 

"Thank you!" Hayami chatters, "You're the best, Hawks!"

"Thank you," you smile, taking your own poster as Hayami's hand rockets back into yours.

"Nah, it's nothin', chickadee. Thanks for the manners," he calls after you with a touch of good humor, "You're real sweet."

"No problem!" you stutter out, thrown entirely by the compliment, as one of the other marketers guides you towards the exit with a hand on your back. 

"Oh, hey! One last thing!"

You flick your eyes back over your shoulder as you're shuffled out of the meet-and-greet.

You watch Hawks mouth 'check the poster', and with a hand held up to the side of his face. Then, 'call me'. 

"You're kidding me."

Hayami is finally asleep — and your sister is closing the door to his darkened bedroom as she hisses the words out. You're leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed and looking entirely exasperated.

"I can't just call him," you say softly as you kick off the wall and follow her into the kitchen, "This isn't, like, the hot waiter who leaves his number on the receipt—"

"No, it's even better," she chatters, moving towards the unfinished glass of wine that sits on the dinner table, "I swear to god if you don't pick up that phone and call him right now—"

It's your brother-in-law who speaks up from the couch. "What's stopping you?"

"I don't know, being chronically single?" you cry as you throw your hands, "I haven't gotten a wax in months—"

"You seriously think #2 cares?" comes your sister's flat reply.

Your brother-in-law mimics her affectation. He throws a finger in the air. "Real heroes don't care."

The two of them high-five. 

...They're probably right.

You suck your teeth as you cross your arms again and weigh your options.

I mean — it's only eight o'clock. It's early. And it's a Friday. 

It could go two ways — you break your year-long dry spell with the #2 pro-hero in the country, or it's a total bust and he turns out to be a massive weirdo. Both are frankly pretty entertaining. 

You chew your lip.

Then, you decide.

You kick off the wall and move towards your phone in the kitchen. It's sitting beside the poster. 

"Oh my god, are you doing it?" your sister calls from the couch, her hand gripping her husband's arm tightly.

"I'm doing it," you say, ignoring the bite of nervousness in your hands as you type in the cell number that was scrawledhastily on the back of the poster. 

"Ohmygod."

It's ringing.

Suddenly, you have an audience. Your sister and brother-in-law are crowding you, their faces wide and expectant as it continues to ring. You pull your thumb to your mouth, pushing your bottom lip between your teeth. You let it ring, and ring, and just when you settle that you're being sent to voicemail, there's a click and a voice.

"'Ello?"

Your sister slams her hand into her husband's back, the two of them scrambling in a sudden flash of limbs and excitement. You drag your thumb across your throat — gesturing for them to cut it out. 

"Uh, hi," you fumble, "Is this... Hawks?"

Suddenly, there's a bark of laughter on the other line. "The one and only. Who's this?"

A slow smirk tugs at your cheeks. "I checked the back of the poster — a bold move, y'know."

"Convention Cutie!" he practically cheers, "Hold on, hold on — gimme two seconds, lemme just land."

Your lips part and you blink. The mental image is a hell of a thing. You swallow down a bought of amusement. "Sure, sure, take your time."

Keigo was starting to doubt you'd actually call him. The convention wrapped up hours ago, and he already made himself busy by exploring the southern city. It's nice here. A little bit like his hometown. Not too much crime, which has made for a pretty uneventful evening.

Until now.

His boots touch down on the nearby rooftop and he settles into an easy squat. His wings tuck themselves tightly against his back. 

You can hear a bit of wind bristle against his end of the receiver. 

"Alright, alright, sorry," he rumbles out, "Now you've got my full, undivided attention—"

You tug on your bottom lip. Your sister and brother-in-law are entirely hooked on the little bits they're overhearing from their spot across the counter. Your sister takes a long drink of her wine.

"Am I... being a bit of a distraction?" you ask, "If now isn't a good time—"

"You've been a distraction all day," comes the smooooooth reply; even Keigo's proud of himself for that one, "I'm just out for a fly. Nothin' too serious. I am glad you called, though."

Oh, fuck. Your knees feel like jello. You white-knuckle grip the counter as your sister gnashes her teeth and mimics biting her fist in silent mimery.

"Yea?" you pry, fanning yourself as you lean farther against the counter. 

"Yea, definitely," Hawks grins as he tips his head back and checks out the stars, "You busy tomorrow night? I'd love to take you out to dinner."

There's a commotion across the kitchen. The two of them are smacking one another's arms, their genuine excitement is palpable as they try to stay quiet. They're failing.

"I'd love that, Hawks."

This is new for him.

Technically speaking, you're not a fan. Your nephew is. So, this doesn't technically qualify as one of those unspoken hero faux pas. Don't date fans. Then again, what does it matter? He can do whatever he wants. 

And you're cute. And nice. And kind. And maybe he's being a sap, but seeing you with your nephew made something in his heart tighten. He didn't even notice he was making a nest of scrapped trash from the posters around his seat until the afternoon was over. 

God, sometimes the evolutionarily deep, bird DNA thing is weird.

Hawks lets out a tight breath he didn't realize he was holding. 

"Cool. Okay. Uh, you... you chill with, like, 7pm?" he fiddles with his visor, "I'm... I'm free whenever so..."

He sounds nervous. Your grin is so bright it could outburn the sun. 

"That works for me," you say as you fiddle with your lip, "As far as dress code goes... Do I, like, need a flight suit?"

His laugh is warm. 

"No, no, I — I was gonna get us an Uber," his voice lilts into something more mischievous, "Unless..."

"Maybe after dinner," you remark easily, swaying side to side, "You can show me what those wings do?"

Oh, smooth. Real smooth. Keigo's face is warm. His wings in question twitch eagerly at the invitation. 

"You gonna ask before you touch?" he teases back into the receiver, his brow raised.

It's your turn to laugh. "Hey, it's called being polite."

"I appreciate it," he rumbles out, about earlier at the convention, "Seriously. People are grabby — these things are sensitive..."

"Making a mental note of that, and filing it away," you flirt openly as your sister cheers silently, "For after dinner, maybe."

Keigo's brain stutter-steps. His laugh is surprised. He's about to comment on how you might just be the girl of his dreams when suddenly the wail of sirens perks up his attention. It's two blocks over. Three fire engines. The wind is carrying the smell of acrid smoke. 

"Hey, chickadee, I, uh... I gotta go," he says, standing and allowing his attention to drift to the scene playing out in front of him; it's a house fire — must be — on the southern side of town, "I'll text you the spot for tomorrow, is that okay?"

"Of course, don't let me keep you," you hush, "I'll... text you?"

"I'm countin' on it."

"Bye, Hawks."

"See ya, chickadee."

You didn't even realize you were sweating until you put the phone down.

Your sister and her husband are there, eyes wide. "So?"

"So," you croon as you laugh and pridefully sway your hips, "I have plans tomorrow night."

Their screaming wakes up Hayami.

As you help the kid back to sleep, you keep it secret that he's a better wingman than you could have ever anticipated. 

[daydreamerdrew]

The Bill Everett Archives vol. 2, reprinting a story from Amazing Mystery Funnies (1939) #3

[dollfacefantasy]

SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL ♡

pairing: homelander x fem!reader

summary: homelander has taken an interest in you, vought's new intern. no matter how you look at it, as a good or bad thing, it ends the same way: him getting what he wants.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, dubcon, p in v, oral (m receiving), body worship, sir kink, obsessive behavior, manipulation/coercion, age gap (reader in early 20s)

wc: 7.7k (oops lol)

a/n: hehe. never thought i would write for this man but it was pretty fun :) comm for my sweet beloved @gor3-hound love you so very much mwah mwah <33

At the junction of the V-shaped table, Homelander sat. With his back to the skyline and his gloved hands folded in front of him, he held the posture of a statue. Ashley had been rambling on and on and fucking on for the past five minutes about shit he couldn't care less about. Her nasally voice bounced off the tile floors and painted ceiling, ricocheting around him like a rogue bullet. Only his impregnable skin didn't protect him from the discomfort of this situation.

It was moments like these that really made him regret killing Stillwell.

That woman knew how to handle things. As manipulative as she could be, at least she wasn't absolutely insufferable. How could Stan let Ashley replace her? She was a poor excuse of just about everything. Absolutely spineless, unintelligent, reactionary, and opportunistic. He really couldn't picture any person on this Earth genuinely liking her.

However in the midst of his mental complaints, he realized that the annoying sound of her speaking was directed at him. All the other stares in the room were zeroed in on him too. A-Train observed in cautious silence. Noir's goggles reflected Homelander's own image right back at him. Maeve judged with a sideways glance. And Starlight prepared for the worst.

He tore his own bright blue eyes from the door opposite the table and refocused them on Ashley. They scanned over her thinning ginger locks down to her gaudy outfit - a piss poor attempt at imitating power.

"What?" he asked, his voice cutting through the air with a force similar to one of Maeve's swords.

Ashley blinked in return. Fear swirled in her wide eyes. She tried to maintain that empowered appearance she so desperately wished was real, but he could see the innate urge to cower bubbling within her.

"Was that lineup for the funeral ok with you, Homelander? A-Train and Noir open, Starlight sings, and then you close?" she repeated.

Now it was his turn to blink. Like he could actually give a shit about the order of segments for Translucent's funeral. He swallowed hard. While she projected a mirage of power, he had to do the same with level-headedness.

"That's fine, Ashley. Have those two go first, and Starlight can follow up with Amazing Grace or whatever shitty hymns they teach in that hick town she's from, and then I can finish us out," he responded.

He could see how her knuckles were going white around the edge of her clipboard. She gripped it for comfort, as if that could save her from his potential wrath. It only irritated him more. If he wanted her dead, he would turn her to ashes where she stood. How hard she braced herself in advance wouldn't matter in the slightest. But people could be so foolish in moments of terror.

"Well speaking of that," she said before clearing her throat, an attempt at a natural transition, "We were trying to decide what song she would sing. Maybe one of our originals? Or do you think it would be more tasteful to go with something from an outside source?"

Gritting his teeth, he buried the urge to unleash the bright beams of red from his sockets. His hands slid off one another and pressed down onto the cool table.

"Do you really need me to decide what song is going to send Translucent to the grave?" he replied, "I don't care what you play, and no one else attending will either. They'll be focused on working up some tears for the useless dipshit they never had the displeasure of knowing. Instead of trying to gain their approval, we should be working on finding the next member of the Seven who can replace him. There's no use dwelling on the past. We need to be preparing for the future."

He paused to let his words permeate the room, giving everyone a chance to absorb the sentiment and adapt accordingly. With his pupils still trained on Ashley, he planned on continuing his tirade, but his train of thought came to an abrupt halt.

Soft pitter-patters of footsteps clacked down the hall outside this room. They sounded in a delicate rhythm, only audible to him. As they grew louder, he caught the scent of the source too. Airy and light. A stark contrast to the brash perfume Ashley doused herself in.

The doors at the front of the room slid apart to reveal you.

You stood there for a moment. The realization that you'd interrupted something was visible in your eyes. The small spheres cast down as you wobbled in like a fawn that sensed wolves watching from nearby.

Ashley turned to face you, a glower already set on her features. The resentment she held for everyone else in this building awoke from its usual dormant slumber because there was finally someone weaker she could take it out on.

Once you reached her, your hand rose and gave her a thin stack of papers. 

"I'm sorry for interrupting. It's a memo from 82. They made it sound urgent," you explained, everything about your temperament meek and timid.

After a brief pause to let you marinate in the few moments before your inevitable humiliation, she snatched the papers from you. Her eyes roamed over the page with disinterest. Even if the information conveyed by the small black letters was important, he doubted she would give it any reaction. She wanted to lash out, and she was going to, whether it was justified or not.

"They couldn't have emailed me this?" she snapped, as if that was something you could control.

"I don't know. I'm sorry. I'll check next time," you offered.

"You better or you'll run out of next times," she threatened, "Incompetence like this won't fly here. You're in the big leagues now, so act like it. Think before you do something instead of taking commands like a lap dog."

"I'm sorry," you replied, ducking your head again.

"Don't be sorry, just do better," she commanded.

"I will," you agreed.

"Good. Just get out of here now. Go pick up my lunch," she told you.

His lips curled into a scowl as he watched the scene play out. It was pathetic - not you, but Ashley. He hated seeing the fucking smirk on her face as you walked away. She had nothing to be smug about. She was nothing more than a feral coyote going after the scraps the other predators didn't take.

To make matters worse, when she returned her attention to the group at the table, she saw the look on his face. She saw the disdain, but instead of striking regret into her, it only deepened her sense of self-satisfaction.

She thought the look was for you. That he was disgusted with your mistake. Annoyed with your intrusion.

He couldn't have that. Not when that assumption was the farthest thing from the truth. Honestly, he didn't know if he was even capable of feeling such ire towards you. Not his precious little fawn.

Rising from his seat, his glare remained on Ashley. She did show a little fear then.

"You know, I don't have all day, Ashley. I'll open Translucent's funeral, Starlight will follow up with a song, and that will be it. A-Train and Noir can have the day off, because let's be honest, nobody will give shit either way," he mocked.

"But, sir-" she said, clearly confused by his sudden impending departure.

"I have more important things to deal with. If you need anything else, I'm sure one of the others can help you," he dismissed.

With that, he stepped back from the table and began heading to the doors. He hoped if he was fast enough he could still catch you. Even in a building as sleek and modern as this one, the elevators could be quite slow.

Walking out into the hall, his head swiveled in the direction you would have gone. For once, his own portrait didn't catch his eye. He didn't even think about stopping by Stillwell's office to reminisce. Instead, he just headed down towards the elevator. His red boots thudded across smooth tile in rapid succession, covering the path you'd just taken.

Finally, after a few feet, he spotted you. Bottom lip pulled between your teeth. Eyes glossy with embarrassment. Tip of your polished shoe tapping against the ground. You startled when his voice boomed across the space, calling out your name. So cute.

You looked at him with fear in your eyes, but disgust didn't fester in the pit of his stomach like it did when others gave him that anxious stare. Another feeling bloomed inside him, one he couldn't really place. It was just that the nervous gleam over your pupils didn't make him hate himself and all the circumstances of his life that put him in his position.

Instead, your wide eyes and pouty lips made him feel strong. You made him feel like a hero. A real one, not the artificial caricature that Vought projected to the world. With you nearby, he felt like the kind of guy who deserved the American flag blowing off his back with a pretty girl cradled in his arms and a dead enemy at his feet. When you gazed up at him, he could only imagine that the pride rushing through his chest and confidence pooling between his hips was the feeling his creators intended for him.

"Did you need something from me, sir?" you asked, reminding him that he actually had to provide a reason to talk to you. Just wanting to stare at you like a psychopath would not suffice unfortunately.

"Oh no," he waved off, "The meeting just finished up. I was heading out too. I saw you, and I realized I haven't really taken the time to get to know you yet, which is unfortunate because I usually like to be familiar with the newer people we have working with us."

A complete lie. Before you, he didn't remember ever giving any of the interns a second glance. They were true nuisances. They were Ashleys.

"Oh... well I'm around whenever you wanna talk. Ashley keeps me busy, but I'm sure I could make an exception for you," you replied.

"You absolutely can make an exception for me," he chuckled, "If Ashley gives you any trouble, just let me know, and I'll make sure she remembers who's really in charge around here."

It wasn't until he heard your heart rate increase that he realized those words probably came off as threatening. Well, they were threatening, but you weren't supposed to see him that way.

"I'm kidding," he forced out with a laugh, "Just joking around like I do... I just don't want you to worry about getting in some kind of trouble for me sniffing around you."

You huffed out an awkward laugh of your own and nodded.  "I'll be sure to make some time for you in the future then and let Ashley know it was at your direction."

"Great," he said with probably too much enthusiasm. 

His jaw clenched into one of his usual tight smiles. He averted his eyes from you and looked towards the numbers on the elevator. Fuck, it was reaching the bottom. He didn't want to let you go, but it wasn't like he could just stroll down the street with you to go get Ashley's lunch. His mind scrambled to come up with a solution.

But like your earlier intrusion into the meeting, your gentle voice cuts through the hurricane forming in his head.

"Are you alright, sir?" you ask, anxious concern written all over your features.

He refocused on you and nodded. His arm extended out behind you, his palm landing against the elevator wall. As he leaned in, he could smell your adrenaline spiking. He could hear the shift of your shoe against the ground. If only he possessed a sixth sense for the mind, so he could know what little thoughts about him were flitting through your head.

"I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me," he answered. He smiled down at you, observing the slight nod you gave him in return.

"Of course not. It probably seems silly coming from me," you said.

His brows raised in amusement. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

He saw the flash of regret in your eyes. The one people always gave him when he asked a question in that tone. The one that came from the panic of realizing they may have said something that offended Homelander.

You suppressed it pretty well though and brought out a smile that gave the impression that you hoped he was messing with you instead.

"Well you know... because you're you," you said and tilted your head in an innocent way that made his chest ache.

He chuckled that charming, prepackaged laugh that had been trained into him. "Even I can appreciate someone taking an interest in checking on me," he replied.

It was maddening, how bad he wanted you. He wasn't even sure when this craving had sprouted inside him. He had been so preoccupied with his affinity for Stillwell that his fixation with you struck him like a glass window in front of a flying bird. But no matter the timeframe in which it blossomed, it had taken root by now and wasn't going to go away on its own.

When he looked at you like this - staring up at him with earnest fascination - his mind drifted to darker places all on its own. He couldn't stop it if he wanted to (and really, he didn't want to). It's just how was he not supposed to be aware of the fact that it would be all too easy to take you back to his room? How could he not think about what it would feel like to have your fragile body beneath his own in private? How could he not wonder what you'd sound like crying out in a sinful mix of pleasure and pain?

Hell, how was he supposed to pretend like he couldn't just bend you over and fuck you dumb right here in the middle of this elevator if he wanted to? No one would be able to stop him. There wouldn't be a thing they could do other than watch. They could stare in horror as he used you like he deserved, as he pounded into your warm, soft, dripping hole like he needed...

Unfortunately, painting that picture in his head had his blood rushing South. He felt the subtle simmer of desire in his pelvis, and he knew in no time his length would be filling out. This suit gave him no way of hiding it either. Clearly, whoever made it hadn't anticipated the Homelander popping a boner on the job.

But luckily for him, the elevator chimed with its arrival at the bottom floor. He straightened out as you looked ahead in preparation of your departure. But before you could go, he grabbed your arm. His touch was tender, holding the same force he'd use when cradling a baby at a photo-op.

"Maybe later tonight you'd like to take me up on one of those talks? After you're done for the day, you could stop by my place. The sooner the better, right?" he asked.

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, but you still nodded. "Um... sure thing. I'll head up once I've finished all my work. It should be around six if that's ok?" you offered.

"Yeah, that works for me. I'll be waiting," he said in an attempt to be playful.

You smiled once more and then headed out of the elevator. His fingertips dragged down your arm to your wrist as you walked away before you finally slipped from his grasp. He could hear your heart pounding faster than your footsteps as you headed towards the exit of the building.

At six o'clock sharp, a knock sounded through his penthouse. And it only took him a few seconds to swing the door open and greet you.

"There she is," he beamed with exaggerated politeness.

You smiled modestly in return, shrugging and smoothing out a crease in your blouse. "I couldn't let the leader of the seven down," you joked.

He scoffed but opened the door wider, beckoning you into his place. You took the invitation and crossed the threshold. Your eyes glanced around the place, taking note of all the things in the apartment that housed the most powerful man on Earth.

The American flag taking up an entire wall almost stopped you in your tracks. It would've been funny if it was someone else, but because it belonged to him, it stood there like a warning. You tried not to show how daunting you found it. Average people could be touchy about that famous piece of cloth. You didn't want to find out if the strongest supe felt the same through means of offending him. 

In place of letting that bother you, you shifted your attention over to all the historical pictures hanging on the walls and the sleek surfaces and drawers filled with things you couldn't begin to imagine. Your eyes casted over the statues accenting the space as well. It was all so very polished. It looked like what you'd expect the Homelander entry in an Ikea catalog to be.

"So what do you think?" he asked. He knew his words came off as stiff. Probably a little stilted sounding. He just couldn't help it. For the first time, he couldn't get a read on how you felt through physical signs alone. And right now, he really really wanted you to like him.

"It's... impressive," you answered.

But he could hear the hesitation in your voice. In each word, there was the same wavering quality to it that you get when Ashley grilled you in front of an audience. It wasn't the precious reverence that he saw in the elevator. The nervous kind of admiration you held for someone above your standing. This was just plain anxiety, and that served no purpose to him. 

Despite your trepidation however, you walked forward to the window at the back of the place. You looked out over the city in awe.

"I would love to live somewhere high up like this," you said.

He came up from behind to stand next to you in front of the glass panes. His eyes landed on your face. You stared out the window, wonder twinkling in your eyes. Your voice sounded almost breathless. It was adorable.

"No fear of heights?" he asked.

"Not when it comes to being inside. Maybe I'd be nervous if we were on a balcony or something," you replied.

"Oh come on. You'd have nothing to worry about if you were with me. I'd never let you fall," he said, dropping his voice a few octaves.

You made that cute little face again when those words hit your ears. Your eyes widened before they fell to look at your shoes. So modest, the way you shied away. He wondered if you were always so timid or if it was only when a god amongst men like himself flirted with you.

He chuckled and reached out, tilting your chin back up to look at him. "You don't need to be nervous," he soothed, "There's no safer place to be than with the Homelander, right?"

You nodded right along. His words left no room for objection.

"Good girl," he smirked and dragged a gloved thumb over your cheek. He pulled his hand back and stepped in the direction of the brown leather sectional that sat in the middle of the room.

"Come over here and sit down. We can talk," he directed.

Following him to the large couch, you took your seat near the corner. You assumed he'd sit at the other end or at least towards the middle of the perpendicular cushions, but no. He sat down in the corner with you. His body was at most a foot away.

He continued to smile at you though he didn't speak. It felt odd, sitting there in silence across from him. He wasn't doing anything overtly threatening, yet you still felt at his mercy.

"So, do you like it here so far? Do you feel like you're fitting into the Vought family?" he asked with a bit of an edge to that second word.

You nodded again. A relieved breath seeped from your lungs as the tense void in conversation came to an end. "Yeah, it's nice here. I feel like I'm learning a lot."

He chuckled and leaned back against the stiff backing of the sofa. His muscular arm draped along the top. Though it wasn't his intention to draw your focus there, he caught the way your eyes dragged over his bicep.

"That's good," he said, "It can be a lot when you're new. I wouldn't want you feeling overwhelmed."

"That's nice of you. I appreciate it, but I'm used to a busy schedule," you replied.

"You're freshly graduated, aren't you?" he checked.

"Yeah," you said, your lips quirking upwards at his guess.

"I thought so. You have that cute, wide-eyed, optimistic thing going for you."

A small laugh leaves your lips. "I know. Ashley said I'll grow out of it by the end of this quarter."

His face dropped, and he almost abandoned the prince charming act he was attempting to pull off for you. The mere mention of Ashley was enough to irk him, but the thought that she was trying to change you? Not only change you but jade you. To strip away the soft and sweet qualities that hooked him on you in the first place. It was criminal. He couldn't hide his disdain.

"You shouldn't listen to her," he said. He wasn't angry, but his cadence held intensity. "Ashley's problem is Ashley. To be honest, I don't even know why they gave her an intern. It's not like she'd be good at teaching anything when she still doesn't understand most things about our business herself."

Your fingers dug into the edge of your seat. It wouldn't have been significant in a normal conversation, but when speaking with a man who could hear a pin drop forty stories down, he noticed.

"You're still nervous," he observed.

In an instant, your hands flew to your lap, like you knew what gave your anxiety away. You fidgeted with the hem of your skirt and shrugged.

"A little," you admitted.

"Are you scared of me?" he asked.

You shook your head without even thinking about the question.

"No, it's not that. I swear," you reassured, "It's just that this is a big deal for me. I'm really honored you want to get to know me, and I just want to make a good impression."

"You don't need to worry about that. I wouldn't have invited you here if I didn't have a good impression of you," he said.

You sighed slightly, letting out a bit of tension, but he could still smell that boosted cortisol running through your blood.

"Come here," he ordered, his voice soft but undeniably firm.

"What?" you asked.

A puff of amused air blew from his nostrils. "Come here," he repeated, "Sit closer."

As if you needed the guidance, he patted the space directly beside his hip. He could see the uncertainty in your eyes even after the gesture. The lack of understanding toward his reasoning persisted. Regardless of your skepticism however, you scooted in his direction and ended up where he wanted you.

"That's better," he said.

With careful fingers, he slipped the glove off his right hand. Your eyes locked on it in subtle awe. You'd seen this man on billboards and commercials for years. His face dominated newscasts. His voice broadcast over the radio on a weekly basis. Still, you had never seen such a human part of him. Five fingers and a palm reaching for your own.

They clasped around your hand. His skin was smooth. The gloves preserved them from any marks of experience.

"Did Ashley warn you about me?" he asked, drawing your eyes back to his own.

Your heart thundered, but you couldn't lie. Never had Vought bragged about Homelander being a human lie detector, but in this moment, you felt like that was the case.

"Yes," you responded.

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "You didn't believe her, did you?" he asked.

You could tell he already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear it.

"Yes," you whispered again.

"What did she tell you?"

It was hard to remember that conversation you'd had a few weeks ago with Ashley. Feeling like you were two seconds away from having lasers beamed through your skull made minute details fuzzy and distant, but you manage to choke a few out anyways.

"She said that you have a very specific vision for the Seven, and that you'll do anything to make your dreams reality. She was just saying you're ambitious. That you care about the greater good," you summarized.

"I have a feeling you're saying it a lot nicer than she did," he teased. He could feel the fear rolling off of you in waves, and in a moment, he would rectify that. But for right now, he didn't mind letting his precious little fawn tremble in terror for a few moments more.

"Yeah, she can be kind of blunt," you said with a shaky laugh.

"That's one word for it," he said.

"She's not gonna get in trouble because of what I said, is she?" you asked.

He couldn't help laughing at that. The sound came out low and throaty. You were just so fucking pure. Worried about protecting someone who wouldn't hesitate for a second to sell you out if it meant she could climb up another rung on the corporate ladder.

His exposed thumb rubbed back and forth over your knuckles. "No. Of course not. We're just talking," he said.

He leaned in closer to you, positioning his mouth in close proximity to your ear. His free hand came up to cup your jaw.

"I appreciate your honesty though. Ashley probably couldn't tell you this, but I appreciate a loyal girl like you," he murmured.

On both your hand and through his glove in contact with your chin, he could feel your skin heat up.

"Oh... thank you, sir," you said.

He chuckled. His fingers squished into the flesh of your cheeks, making your lips puff out as though they were seeking a kiss.

"So polite, but I like that. We need more people here who understand their place," he said.

At this point, the gravity of your circumstances began to settle on you. Your fear had worn off a bit, and you realized what a compromising position he had you in. With one tight squeeze, he could crush every bone in your face.

Out of instinct, you tried pulling back a little. You didn't make it obvious, only attempting to gain a few inches of space.

That was a few inches too many though. He tightened his grip and kept you where he wanted you.

"Ah ah," he tutted, "How many times do I have to tell you that you don't need to be scared? I'm not going to hurt you."

You dropped the resistance right then and there. It wasn't worth pursuing. If he didn't want you getting away, you weren't getting away.

He took a few more seconds to study your face, taking in every minutiae of your expressions. Then, his hands dropped to your waist, and he pulled you into his lap. His thighs were firm against your ass, both rigid in how he carried himself and defined from the pure muscle that made them up.

His hands smoothed up and down your sides, coasting over each crease in your blouse. He massaged your soft tissue with gentle squeezes from the beginning of your bra down to the swell of your hips.

"God, you're beautiful," he muttered, "You fit here like you were made for me."

You vibrated in his grasp. He could feel the way you quivered with the urge to pull away.

"Thank you, s-sir," you stammered, "I really appreciate it but-"

"But nothing," he cut you off.

"But I don't think we should be... doing this," you tried to continue anyway.

"Why not?" he asked. Though his tone made it obvious that no matter what reason you provided, it wouldn't change his mind.

"Because you're like my boss, y'know? And I worked really hard to get my spot here, and I don't want people thinking I slept my way to where I am," you explained, "You're really nice, and I admire you a lot, but it wouldn't be right."

He didn't respond immediately. He paused and let your words hang in the air for a few moments.

"You know," he finally spoke, "I don't think you understand how things work around here. It doesn't matter what anyone else in this building thinks. Only me."

You blinked at him, unsure of how to respond to such an assertion. It didn't matter though. He continued without your input.

"What I do with you, how I feel about you - no one else will know about it unless you tell them. But even if you do and even if they care, there isn't a thing they'll do about it. There's not a thing they can do about it," he continued.

"I still don't think it's a good idea," you maintained.

"Good thing this isn't for you to think about then," he mocked, "You're a fast learner. You'll figure it out soon enough. I am God in this tower. And a god doesn't listen to his subjects. He guides them. He knows best."

One of his hands slid up your tummy and over your chest onto your throat. He cupped your jaw and swiped his thumb back and forth across your bottom lip.

"What did Ashley tell you about me?" he asked.

"That no one gets in your way."

"Good. And she was right. No one gets in my way. Nothing stops me from getting what I want. And I've wanted you for too fucking long not to try you out."

That set of fingers on your chin pulled your face towards his and brought you into a kiss. You froze against his lips. It felt as though all of time stopped. This high up, you couldn't hear the sounds of the city outside the penthouse. No one existed in this moment but you and him.

Unlike you, he melted into the exchange. He sighed against your skin and pulled you flush against his toned body. After a second to let you come to terms with what was happening, he kissed you again. His lips sucked on yours gently, attempting to coax you into returning the affection.

The most he got is you puckering them up ever so slightly.

He pulled away with frustration in his eyes and grabbed your face, jerking you a little to look at him.

"Don't act like you don't want this. I know you do," he said, "You're scared, but you don't need to be. Relax and let yourself enjoy this. It's not everyday that the most powerful man on earth wants to fuck you."

Your eyes blew up like little saucers, but before you could really process the directness of what he'd said, he was kissing you again. This time it wasn't as nerve wracking. You softened up a little and kissed back.

You didn't put much effort into it. Your lips responded like this was a juvenile first date. But he didn't let up. He didn't let you give him anything less than your best. His hands roamed across your body. They groped and fondled your breasts and then migrated South to feel up your ass through your pencil skirt.

Your muscles started to loosen up after a minute or so. You told yourself this wasn't so bad. He was being gentle so far, and for someone with his abilities, you wanted it to stay that way. You brought your hand up to his face and cupped his cheek. With that as leverage, you deepened the kiss.

He groaned as soon as you started to give in. His hands fell to your hips and tugged you so that you were straddling him. He smacked your ass, the sound echoing around his apartment. You could tell he held back. A real spank from Homelander could shatter your hip, but this one barely even stung. Maybe he did like you.

His fingers came up and with a sharp tug, he popped the front of your top loose. The column of buttons sprung free. The strips of cloth fell away to each of your sides, exposing a sliver of your skin. He furthered it by pulling off the garment entirely. His eyes trailed along your bare shoulders to your collar bone before finally landing on your breasts. He gave them a firm squeeze, kneading them through the barrier of your bra.

Meanwhile you rolled your hips down on his lap. Immediately, you felt his bulge that had risen to attention between your thighs. You did it again and then again. Each time you ground yourself against him with more pressure.

He grunted, and his eyes fluttered. His hands returned to your waist and gripped you hard, guiding your movements. He seemed transfixed for a few moments, as if he couldn't decide his next move.

After a few seconds though, he got his momentum back. He yanked you off his lap and flipped over so that you were seated on the couch again.

He rose to his feet before you. There your eyes scanned over his body from his tousled blond hair and his kiss-swollen red lips to his sculpted abdomen and his swelling erection. You reached out to touch him, but he stopped your hand mid-air.

Once your arm was limp on the couch again, he removed his other glove. He dropped it to the floor before bringing his right boot to the spot on the sofa next to you. He unzipped the red shoe and then discarded it like he had with the other item. The other boot followed the same routine.

"I don't let just anyone see me like this," he told you as his fingers began to undo his collar, "You should feel lucky."

Lucky wasn't the word you would use to describe your feelings in this situation. Maybe special. Or distinct. Individual. Either way, you continued to watch. Your eyes glided over his figure as he pulled away the tight blue costume that seemed like a second-skin for how much he wore it.

His defined chest came into view. Your reluctance hadn't vanished all together just yet, but at this point, it was fading fast. Pale hair dusted the muscular expanse and trailed down his stomach to the waistband of the bottoms. The waistband he soon hooked his fingers over and peeled down.

He dropped the scaled navy fabric to the ground before kicking it away, leaving himself in just a small pair of boxers. His hand came down and rubbed the swollen tent at the front while his eyes lingered on you.

"Do you want to touch?" he asked.

You nodded. It wasn't a hard decision. This was still a bad idea. You hadn't changed your mind on that. But at this point, what else was there to do? Defying Homelander wasn't an option for anyone on this planet ever. You were no different.

"Ask," he commanded.

"Please can I touch you?" you said.

"Please what?"

"Please, sir. Can I touch you?"

"Good girl," he praised before nodding, "Go for it."

You reached out, this time successfully. Your palm landed flat on his stomach. You held it there for a moment, just feeling his skin. In a way, it was unreal. To feel that someone propped up on the world's pedestal was flesh and blood like you.

Rubbing up and down, you continued getting a feel for his body. He smirked at your wonder before guiding you up by the elbow.

"Stand up and do it right," he said.

"Sorry."

The word came from your mouth automatically. You brought your other hand up to his chest and felt the muscles in his chest. Everything was so built. You expected that, but it was still odd to feel beneath your fingertips. He felt like a living ken doll. You almost didn't believe if he dropped his boxers there would be a real cock there.

Your hands traced up to his shoulders with precision. They explored down his biceps and forearms. And then finally, you brought your lips into his chest. He sighed and tilted his head back, relishing the feeling.

You kissed all over, swirling your tongue and tracing shapes onto his skin. It was almost entrancing, to be so focused on someone like this. You barely noticed as he turned the two of you and sat himself down on the couch, lowering you to your knees.

You worked your mouth down his abs, licking and kissing the twitching muscles. Your fingernails scraped up his sides and then down onto his thighs. When your lips reached the waistband of his boxers, your eyes glanced up at him.

"Can I take them off, sir?" you asked.

He smirked at the title. Only one word of correction and he'd trained that phrase into you.

"Yes," he answered. It was a simple answer. All that was required for someone so naturally obedient.

You took it in stride, tucking your fingers over the elastic and tearing them down. His hard cock popped up and slapped against his pelvis. You couldn't have been happier about your earlier ken doll theory being proven wrong. The sight of his dick was enough to make you drool. It was better than any work of art out there.

It rested against his body at the perfect length, the perfect girth. The tip flushed beautiful red and pearly white beads of precum smeared at the top. Your fingers wrapped around it and gave it a few strokes, testing the waters.

His hand came down and petted your head. He watched as you studied the appendage, as you experimented with your own touch. It was so fucking cute he thought he might cum right then and there. Fuck, he thought you were sweet every moment he had eyes on you, but right now, you were darling. You were doing as he said. Accepting your place at the feet of a superior being.

"Put it in your mouth," he said from above, "I want you to taste it."

There was no hesitation on your end this time around.

"Yes sir," you responded before leaning forward and wrapping your lips around his cock.

He groaned and let his chest hollow out with a harsh exhale. Your mouth was so warm and wet, nice and snug around his length. He rocked his hips up, pushing it further into your throat. He expected a small gag or sputter, but instead you moaned. You shut your eyes and flattened your tongue against his shaft before beginning to bob your head.

"Fuck," he hissed. His legs tensed up, and he pressed down on your head. That did get a tiny gag out of you. You gripped his hips to stabilize yourself though and stayed in place. Your nose nestled against the darker curls of hair that sat at the base of his cock.

Spit leaked from your mouth and dribbled onto his skin below. He took a few moments to just enjoy the feeling of his dick down your throat. The sight of his sweet, innocent girl choking on his cock. Then he let you pull off and catch your breath. 

You took a few deep puffs, letting the spots clear from your vision before you dove back in for more. Your hand stroked the lower part of him your mouth didn't cover in its shallow sucks while your other set of fingers caressed his balls tenderly.

He'd never experienced devotion. As much as it pained him to ever acknowledge, his sexual experiences had been lackluster up until now. There were the times with Maeve, but they always left something to be desired for him. Then there was the time with Stillwell that ended before it really started. In either case, no one had ever put all of themselves into pleasuring him like you were doing right now. It drove him wild. He could feel his sac tightening up, and he knew he had to get you off.

Planting one hand on each side of your head, he tugged you back. You looked up at him with glossy, cock-drunk eyes and saliva-coated lips. He swiped some of the mess away before addressing you.

"You're doing so good for me, but I think you're ready for more, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," you agreed.

"My perfect pet," he crooned and pulled you up onto the couch.

He laid you flat on your back and ripped your skirt and panties off in one go. His eyes drank in the sight of your nude lower half, but he didn't spend much time savoring it. He spread you out, slotting himself against your center.

With a few rocks of his hips, he dragged his length through your wetness. He let the sticky fluid coat his shaft, and then he sunk in. His tip bullied its way into your entrance and the rest of him followed. You whined at the stretch. Your walls clamped around him, eager to accept the intrusion.

"Atta girl," he grunted as he worked himself all the way in.

His hips connected with your ass, but he still bucked them, trying to get more. You yelped at the force. He was already buried inside you. Anymore and his tip would be nudging the entrance to your womb.

Fortunately for you, he pulled his hips back, giving you a short break from feeling so full. It was short lived though. Seconds later he snapped back in. That began the quick rhythm he set into. It was desperate and needy, emotions he'd tried to hide until this point.

You whimpered as your body bobbed with the momentum. His thrusts bounced you back and forth. The sounds of his body smacking against yours filled the room. His fingers dug into your waist hard enough to bruise. You didn't complain about the minor pain though because you could tell he was holding back in every other regard. If a few marks on your side kept you from being pulverized by a super cock, then that was a burden you were willing to carry.

Above you, he starts to pant. His breaths leave him raggedly huffing, sucking down what oxygen he can get in the midst of rutting into you. He tilts his head down at you and gazes at your blissed out face with lidded eyes.

"I could have anyone. Any person on this Earth would be mine if I wanted them to be. But the only one I want is you. Doesn't that feel good?" he breathed.

"Yes!" you cried out. Your back arched up off the couch. "Feels so fucking good, sir."

He leaned into you more, squishing your body into the surface below. Your thighs pressed against your tummy as he bent you.

"Yeah, it does," he grunted, "It's all there is. It's all you need to think about. How you're all mine."

"Mhm," you whined with a lazy nod. You were getting closer to cumming and responding to his words was taking a lower priority in your mind.

"And to think you tried to deny yourself of it," he mocked. He clenched his jaw and slammed into you harder.

You shrieked and clutched his shoulders. In the back of your mind, you hoped his penthouse was sound proofed or at least enough distance from the nearest one. Otherwise you wouldn't have to tell anyone about this incident for it to spread throughout the tower.

"I knew better, didn't I? I knew this is what you needed," he said.

Again, you nodded. You felt the heat in your belly reaching the boiling point.

"Say it," he huffed.

You tried to force it out, but your own hiccuped sob of pleasure cut you off. He didn't give you a break though. He stared down at you with expectation, so you continued.

"You know best- uh, fuck- you know best, sir," you whined.

"Good fucking girl," he growled on top of you.

He was already close from the blowjob you'd given him. Only a few strokes more, and he was ready to explode. He swiveled his hips, angling them upwards to pound into that special spot that would make you see stars and stripes.

You mewled when you came. Your body trembled harder than it did when you were scared. Arousal gushed out of you and coated his skin. He huffed and buried his face in your neck before letting go.

Everything faded into the background as you laid underneath him in the haze that came after the absolute high of pleasure. Now you could feel his heartbeat too. The organ thundered against his chest over and over as he came down.

Minutes later he pulled back. His knuckles caressed down your jawline before he climbed off of you entirely. He sat back on the couch and let out a deep breath. You weren't sure whether you were supposed to pick up your stuff and leave or follow along with him and stay close to his side. There was no real indication of what he wanted in this moment, but he turned to smile at you and huffed out a laugh.

"I think I'll keep you with me more often now. Really show you the ropes of fitting in around here."

You sat up and nodded awkwardly. He leaned toward you, cupping your cheek.

"I'll be a much better teacher than Ashley ever was," he said. His arm snaked around you and pulled you to his chest again. "No more errands or coffee runs. I'll show you things you need. Things that you'll enjoy."

He ran his fingers over your face and kissed your temple. The touches were tender against your skin. They would have been romantic if your mind wasn't racing with what this all meant in terms of your job and the grand scheme of your future.

Looking at him though, he wasn't worried at all. He smiled down at you before whispering once more.

"My sweet little pet. All mine now."

[misswynters]

Getting married to ekko

short drabble

requested by anon

There was a rare kind of joy that managed to push through the usual grime and chaos. Strings of mismatched lights. Some flickering, others glowing bright, were strung across the open square near the hideout. The firelight children had scavenged scraps of cloth and patched them together to create banners, their uneven stitching adding a charm no fancy Piltie celebration could ever replicate.

In the middle of it all, you stood on a small platform that the Lost Children had hastily constructed. Your dress wasn’t traditional, it couldn’t be. It was a creation, crafted lovingly by Zaunite hands. Pieces of old fabric, some shimmering with oil stains, others dyed in vibrant hues, came together to create something uniquely yours.

Ekko stood opposite you, his usual bravado tempered by something soft and awed. He wore his best—a patched-up jacket you’d once teased him about because he refused to throw it away. But it was clean, and you knew it meant something for him to wear it today. His hair was neatly made, the streaks of white bright against the locks. He had a grin on his face that was wide, even as he tried to play it cool.

Scar, who had appointed himself officiant, stood between you two. His wiry frame looked almost regal in the dim light, though his crooked grin betrayed his usual cheekiness. “Alright, settle down!” he called out to the gathered crowd of children and a few adults who had wandered in, lured by the unusual festivity. “We’re here for somethin’ special tonight. None of your usual fightin’ or stealin’, this is about family.”

The children, sitting cross-legged around the square, erupted in cheers. You caught Ekko’s gaze, and the two of you shared a smile, the kind that spoke of shared dreams and whispered promises.

Scar cleared his throat dramatically. “Now, I ain’t exactly licensed or whatever it is those Pilties do, but who needs paperwork when you’ve got love, right?” The crowd laughed, and he winked at you. “So, let’s get to it. You two got somethin’ to say?”

Ekko took your hands, his palms calloused and warm against yours. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles as he looked at you, his voice steady but soft. “I never thought I’d get to have somethin’ like this,” he began. “Not here, You—you’ve made me believe that we can make anything, even in grimy place. You’re my balance when the world feels too heavy, my fire when it’s too cold. I promise, no matter what comes, I’ll always fight for us.”

You felt your chest tighten, your heart swelling as the words you’d wanted to say fought to escape. “Aww!,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “You’ve shown me that even in a place as broken as Zaun, there’s beauty worth fighting for. You’ve given me hope, and I want to spend every day proving to you that you were right to believe in us. I’m yours, forever.”

The children cheered again, but Scar waved them down with a grin. “Hold on, hold on! We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.” He nodded to a group of children at the side, who scrambled to their feet. The youngest among them, a tiny girl with oversized goggles slipping down her nose, held a small wooden box. She marched forward with all the seriousness of someone tasked with an important mission. Ekko knelt to her level, his grin widening as she opened the box to reveal the ring he’d made.

It wasn’t like any ring you’d ever seen. The band was crafted from a piece of scrap metal, polished until it gleamed faintly in the light. Set into it was a shard of green crystal, likely salvaged from some forgotten Zaunite machine. But the real magic was in the delicate etchings along the band—tiny gears and vines, symbols of growth and movement intertwined. It was unmistakably Ekko’s work, a reflection of his resourcefulness and heart.

“You made this?” you whispered, your fingers brushing over the ring as he slid it onto your hand.

“Course I did,” he replied, a hint of bashfulness creeping into his voice. “Nothing else felt good enough for you.”

Scar clapped his hands together, breaking the moment with his usual exuberance. “Alright, lovebirds, that’s it! You’re officially stuck with each other.”

Laughter and applause erupted as the children threw bits of torn paper and confetti into the air, creating a chaotic, colorful storm around you. Ekko pulled you into his arms, his laughter mingling with yours as the two of you spun in the midst of it all.

The celebration that followed was as Zaunite as the ceremony itself. Someone had rigged a broken radio to play static-filled music, and the children danced wildly, their joy infectious. A few of the older kids brought out food, whatever they could scrounge together. As the mismatched feast was laid out on a long, uneven table.

Ekko never strayed far from your side, his hand lingering on your waist or your fingers brushing against his arm. At one point, he leaned close, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You know, for a thrown-together wedding in the middle of Zaun, this might be the best day of my life.”

You laughed, leaning into him. “Might be?”

“Okay, fine. Is the best day,” he admitted, his grin softening.

As the night wore on and the children began to drift off, Ekko led you to a quiet corner, away from the noise. The lights overhead flickered, casting his face in warm, uneven purple shadows. “Hey,” he said, his tone still soft. “Can’t believe we are official married now!”

You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek. “Unreal that i can officially call you my husband.”

For a moment, the chaos of Zaun fell away, and it was just the two of you. Two survivors, two dreamers, building something beautiful in the midst of ruin. And as he kissed you, the city seemed a little brighter, and the air a little lighter.

note. if there’s any mistakes let me know!

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @annybah @niredsw @stqrlxght @kriss-w @marilovz @blkmystery @multiverse-fandoms-2001 @turquoizxe @mishellii @kor-0suu @feelya @theamazingmilli @multim00n @m00nd0v3 @sodavrr @maialublmere @radtragedyarcade @spiderhook @night-fall-moon

banner. @anitalenia

[jesswritesthat]

Bakugō Katsuki: Engineer

Fandom: BNHA // MHA — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~1.5k, fluff, a little violence.

• Being a talented inventor meant your skills were sought by many (both good and bad), but then you catch the attention of Dynamight.

Warnings: Cursing, violence, mention of weapons, post time skip.

>>>>——————————>

"You can't be serious Bakugō-san."

The pro snapped to his trusty assistant, raising an expectant brow when replying like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You said they're the best. That's who I want for my agency."

"Yes but—"

"But nothing! Do you know where I can find them?"

"Everyone who has tried has been refused. Their infamous talent has been sought by heroes, big companies, and even villainous characters... All of whom failed to hire them."

"’Cause I haven't asked yet."

"Bakugō-san, I know there's no convincing you otherwise but, I'd recommend having other options available at least."

True to his assistants' warnings, you were no easy recruit, all his efforts at communication were futile. Emails? Calls? Letters? You hadn't replied to any of his professional outreach methods and he suspected this was a common occurrence for you.

Fine then, he'd turn up the heat. Your workshop address wasn't a secret to those with connections and Bakugō wasn't one to give up without a fight. Literally, if need be.

———

It was a perplexing thing in the middle of nowhere, your workshop. A metal-like building heavily lined with obscure defensive weaponry as well as having access to your own personal scrapyard it seemed. But it was yours. A rumoured mechanical talent for crafting hero gear and inventions, one that drew attention from far and wide. However you were content in your independence, it was less hassle this way you'd hoped.

Alas, the confident banging on the metal entrance doors with conviction was far from unusual.

"I told ya, I don't—" You paused once sliding open the door and taking a look at your visitor, lifting your goggles and shifting to a smile. "Haven't seen you at my door before."

"Since ya didn't answer my calls or mail, I don't have a choice." The man seethed through gritted teeth, trying to be more 'accommodating' like advised.

"Oh? Which one are you again?" Your gaze flicked to a pile of (some charred) letters in a nearby bin, smile growing more smug by the second.

"Bakugō Katsuki. You might know me as Dynamight though."

"Yeah you're fun. I like you." You smirked proudly, honesty and bemusement present. "The way you yell at people resonates with me."

The man rolled his eyes with scoffing sound, choosing not to say anything rambunctious enough to have you slam the door in his face - still, he was surprised when you welcomed him in.

"Tch. S'pose you know why I'm here then."

"You, and many others. Had Lemillion here last month, least he bought me a welcome basket with cake and such." You joked, easing the caution the blonde seemed to be upholding around you with his natural personality showing.

"Tch, ain't gonna get you none of that crap unless you start working with me. I did bring something useful though because I'm better than the other extras you've dealt with." He held out a bag, one you quizzically explored to find a peculiar item to win one over with.

"A spanner...?"

It wasn't just a spanner, it was one of the newest, top of the grade, multi tool sets crafted by one of the big brands. Thoughtful. Very thoughtful actually...

"I appreciate it, but I can't accept something this expensive. Especially when I'm going to decline your offer."

"S'fine. It's a gift, but if you feel that guilty about it then you can fix my gauntlets." Bakugō justified rather abruptly, shoving the bag into your arms to ensure you took it.

"Alright. That sounds fair."

"I'll grab 'em from my car, get your shit ready."

That afternoon, you sat beside Katsuki as he talked you through the technicalities of his weaponry whilst you worked on them together. All the while diverting onto conversation tangents and making drinks mid way, he demonstrated his quirk - tiny sparkles of explosive lighting up his hand.

"They're pretty, your explosions."

"They’re deadly— I don't— shut up nerd!" He dismissed you briskly, turning away with an irritated growl.

———

Fixing his gear would be the first and last time you'd see Bakugō in person you assumed, considering you declined his job proposition and all.

So when you received another bout of rapid banging on metal the following week, you were surprised to find a smirking Dynamight rather than another recruiter.

"Shocked to see me or something?"

"Well I— yeah. Figured you'd take my refusal and go."

"Nah you did a good job with my gauntlets, wanted to see what else you're up to." Dynamight flexed his wrist for example, openly pleased with his gauntlets but seemed more so by your genuine reaction.

"Oh really?" You sounded truly perplexed, but also excited to share your work with someone. "Sure, I'll show you my latest ideas!"

Bakugō stayed a while, a couple of hours discussing applications for your inventions and inquiring as to whether there were any materials you were unable to obtain recently. Then it moved on to his occupation, his agency, and then to trivial matters such as popular restaurants around town.

“So, wanna join my agency yet?” The blonde threw over his shoulder on his way out of the door.

“No Dynamight, but thank you for asking and visiting.”

“Fine nerd. I’ll be back then.”

Now you didn’t believe that for a second when he slammed the door behind him, and you felt like he’d only asked for the sake of it - fully expecting you to say no. However, if he did decide to visit again, you wouldn’t be mad about it you concluded.

———

Unfortunately, your next set of individuals weren’t so welcomed. You’d seen them multiple times previously, each visit coming with its increase of pressure to work exclusively for them. A dealer who specialised in exporting weaponry to villains on the black market, they had both the money and power to pose either a threat or a reward. Except, your constant refusals had only fuelled their growing impatience which led them crashing down your door tonight with violence in their wake.

"C'mon (L/n), I came here personally just to hire you. We'll certainly pay you well enough~" The dealer slammed you into the wall, digits digging so deeply into your neck you barely managed a disgruntled wretch.

"I'll neve— ever work— for you assholes!"

"Too bad, the consequence for that is death y’know." You were slung across the floor, a gasp for breath futile when he aimed his pistol at your heart. "Want to reconsider yet?"

"Fuck you."

The gun safety clicked off, one of the henchman's quirks keeping you painfully immobile. If these were your final moments you were furious you hadn't completed your latest invention, maybe a little irritated you hadn't hit the code red before you were taken over by a damn quirk. You avoided pledging alliances to avoid this bullshit! You didn't work for any competitors, you weren't in the line of fire for sharing information, but now you can't even refuse work without getting caught in a crime web?! Society and talent is a sh—

Then an ear splitting bang echoed in the facility, dust clouds and debris forcing through the room like a tidal wave, leaving two intruders knocked out and the remainder covering their faces and yelling confused curses. That's when you saw sparks of light, a familiar explosion you had the privilege of seeing in person only once before.

He came back.

"That's why they call me Great Explosion Murder God!" He grinned menacingly, teeth bared like a predator with a dangerous glint in those crimson eyes. Sparks and smoke danced around him, the hero lowering both his stance and voice when he spoke what sounded like a protective threat.

"Now get away from my agency's' new engineer."

Oddly you felt butterflies in your stomach, but you'd narrowed that down to the whole situation being an absolute bombshell. You watched as Dynamight immobilised them effortlessly, the quirk being lifted allowing you to utilise your inventions - mechanised laser snipers pointed at the foreheads of your unwanted company, all programmed to fire with a snap of your fingers.

"Couldn't have done that sooner nerd?" The hero shot back to you tauntingly, but you didn’t miss how his gaze flared up at the sight of bruising on your neck when he’d scanned you for injury.

"Then you'd be out of a job, hero."

It took no longer than ten minutes for the authorities to arrive, during that time Dynamight had retrieved any information he’d wanted. As well as issuing basic first aid to you contrastingly softly in comparison to the deathly interrogation the dealer experienced.

You’d be taken to hospital for a check of course, (Bakugō personally walking you to your escort since he couldn’t drive you himself right now) but before you bid farewell you had a burning question.

"When can I start?"

"Hah?" Came his classic recall, snapping to you with a look of angry curiosity.

"You called me your engineer, I was wondering when that begins." Your voice was quieter now, but upon realising Katsuki seemed a little embarrassed with hand rubbing his neck and honest answer spilled.

"It's your choice, but I figured saying that would get others off your back when word gets around. You'd be left in peace for a while to continue your work."

"And if I want to work with you, when would you want me at the agency?

"All the time." Just as quickly as he spoke, he realised his lack of hesitance, awkwardly huffing and rephrasing all in one. "I'll send over a contract, you can move stuff into the lab if you like the terms."

"Then I look forward to working with you, boss." Gladly, you held out your hand to him, pleased smirk plastered on your features.

"Call me Katsuki." He shook your hand, victorious grin in play. "And the pleasure’s all mine."

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

[remmys]

🎃 TFTOBER 2024 !!

Hey there!! I really wanted to participate in an October prompt list, but seeing as I've been really hooked on TF2 for this entire year, I figured it would be fun to do a TF2 themed list!!

If you participate, feel free to tag your posts w/ #tftober !!! I'd love to see what other people do <3 This list should be perfectly doable for any medium (art, writing, sfm, etc!)

Below the cut is a list of all the prompts with some extra flavor text/ideas! Things are kept vague in a typical drawing prompt fashion

DAY 1 - Main

Who's your main? Who do you play most often?

DAY 2 - Hats!

It's not called a glorified hat simulator for nothing! There's plenty of cosmetics at your fingertips in the game!

DAY 3 - Relationships

Everyone knows someone. Whether it's a family member, a friend, a lover, or even an arch nemesis!

DAY 4 - Pyrovision

Put on the goggles and take a look at things with a new perspective!

DAY 5 - Battlefield

Probably where a mercenary spends most of their time

DAY 6 - On Break

Battles don't rage on forever. You've gotta take a break eventually

DAY 7 - Offense

The front lines. The moving force

DAY 8 - Defense

The back lines. Makes sure nobody gets too far

DAY 9 - Support

Everything in between! Perhaps even the foundations of some teams

DAY 10 - Teamwork

It's not called TEAM Fortress for nothing, right?

DAY 11 - Fem Fortress

Happy Friday! Give some love to the girls!

DAY 12 - Free Space

Draw, write, or SFM to your heart's content! Do whatever you'd like!

DAY 13 - Respawn

Nobody stays dead.

DAY 14 - Capture the Flag

That briefcase isn't going to steal itself!

DAY 15 - Backstab

Should've checked behind you.

DAY 16 - Mann vs Machine

Guns and bullets or nuts and bolts? Who knows what could be running through those metallic minds...

DAY 17 - Expiration Date

Teleportation and bread. What else can I say?

DAY 18 - Headcannons

Think a little deeper. What do you just know has got to be true about the mercenaries?

DAY 19 - At home

Everyone comes from somewhere. Everyone has a home.

DAY 20 - Headshot

Looks like you stood a little bit too still.

DAY 21 - Alternate Universe

Emesis Blue? Lil' Pootis? A universe where the mercenaries are all alligators? The world is your oyster.

DAY 22 - Australium

A divine and valued substance rarer than gold

DAY 23 - Administrator

There's more to a war than just the fighters

DAY 24 - Pets

Some people have a soft spot for certain animals. Others choose to keep theirs around 24/7.

DAY 25 - Injury

An inevitability of war

DAY 26 - Control Points

A constant back and fourth

DAY 27 - Comics

Ink, panels, and pages. A story through words and pictures.

DAY 28 - Custom Class

Is nine really enough to cover everyone needed in a war? Probably not!

DAY 29 - Ubercharge

A miracle of medicine

DAY 30 - Sentry

Sometimes the best way to get good aim is to not be the one aiming

DAY 31 - Scream Fortress

Happy Halloween! Scream out to your heart's content and enjoy the spooks of the night!

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

Five Minutes - L.L.

Pairings: Loki x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not Proofread, Smut, Oblivious!Reader, Reader in Denial, Horny!Loki, Loki's use of magic, Intern!Reader, Dubcon (if you squint), Threesome (technically), Mutual Pining

Wordcount: 2,009

Summary: Loki has it bad for you. Having recently graduated from college, Tony Stark recruited you to work for him in his lab. A certain tall, dark and mysterious god takes a quick liking to you. He loves teasing you, and it's very clear that he wants you. To everyone but you, of course. Loki begins to use his magic to strip you of your defenses, but how will you respond?

A/N: Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this little imagine I wrote up! As always, thank you all for your support on all of my other stories, I appreciate every single one of you! Without further ado, some fresh Loki smut.

The Avengers compound amazed you. There was so much to see, and Tony Stark had become somewhat of a father figure for you. He was very encouraging and for the most part, you were enjoying your start at the tower. You felt like the Avengers were like your family now. Natasha, Thor, and Steve were all like older siblings to you. Thor's brother Loki, however, had made several advances towards you. You always felt that he was teasing or that he wouldn't be interested in someone like you. You were a mere mortal, and although you were intelligent, Loki was a god.

However, he was a god who knew what and who he wanted. And he had his eyes set on you. The team didn't completely trust Loki yet. So, whenever they found themselves on a mission and you were stuck working in the lab, Loki always seemed to make his way up there to see you. On a typical day, he was always hiding in the library. But whenever you were in the lab alone, he was there to find you. Today was one of those days.

Loki also loved to comment on your lab gear, as he thought it was adorable. Your goggles, lab coat, your face shield. It was just simply adorable. So, when he spotted you in the lab, doing some experiments, he internally grinned. He opened up the glass door leading inside, and immediately you glanced up at him. "Oh darling, why can't you just be mine already?" You giggled, but avoided the question. "Loki, how many times have I told you that you need to be in proper lab attire to be in the lab? It is far too danger-" Loki shushed you by placing his index finger over your lips.

"And how many times have I told you I'm a god, love?" You glared up into his eyes. "That doesn't mean you're immortal from chemical burns, Loki."

"Aren't you bored up here?" He asked you suddenly. "No, thank you for asking. I'm quite entertained by what I'm doing here."

"So that means you don't want me to tear those clothes off of you?" Loki proposed. "I- I- um-" You stuttered, clearly flustered by his question. He shushed you again with his index finger. You blushed, pulling away from him slightly. "I'm working."

"You can't just take a little fifteen minute break?" He pondered. You went to speak, before he spoke again. "Actually, we both know it'd turn into much longer than that." He winked, and your cheeks turned into an even deeper red hue.

"Okay, doll. I'll leave you be. For now..." The god left your presence, and suddenly you felt a longing in your chest for him. You did like Loki. A lot. But you felt that his teasing you must be completely silly and only due to the fact that he was completely and entirely out of your league.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

The next time you saw Loki was when the Avengers returned from their mission later that day. Tony called a post-mission meeting in the team room to talk about strengths and weaknesses of the team and how improvements could be made.

You sat down with your cup of water, ready to talk with everyone about how the mission had gone. Everyone was alive, so the conversation was promising. In addition, no one ended up in the medical wing of the tower. Therefore, the meeting was to take place in the conference room in mere minutes. Tony, Thor, Natasha, Bruce, Steve, yourself, Loki, and several others sat among a large table.

Tony began with an overview of the mission, and although you tried your best to pay attention, you couldn't help but zone out unexpectedly several different times. You went for your glass of water, taking a small sip.

However, Loki had other plans. He formulated that a combination of your white blouse and water would be a delightfully - nearly lethal - one. With a flick of his hand, the water slipped out of the glass and onto the fabric that now coated your chest. The fabric that once hung loose, complimenting the shape of your breasts now completely surrounded them, and Loki loved the sight. You cursed to yourself, then got up and retreated to your room to change. Everyone understood why.

Loki, being his mischievous self, created a clone of himself to watch upon the meeting, while the other followed you to your bedroom.

"Darling, are you alright?" Loki knocked on your door with little to no hesitation. "Yes, Loki! I'm alright. Thank you for asking. Just getting changed!" In an instant, Loki transported himself into your room. Your white, lacy bra exposed to him, along with your tight black pencil skirt leaving little to the imagination. You gasped.

"I wouldn't mind helping you get undressed..." Loki spoke, shocking you. Your heart started to beat faster and faster. "I- um- we have a meeting to attend, Loki." Although you had always sensed Loki's teasing towards you, it was always your understanding that all it was was teasing. Nothing more. But this - this was different. He was standing in front of you now, seeing more than most men ever had. Recognizing just how much you were exposed to the god, you attempted to fold your arms across your chest, which he immediately pulled back down to the side.

"Don't hide yourself from me, darling." Loki's voice was soft, yet stern. You gazed up at him, your innocent doe eyes doing more to him than you could ever imagine. Loki felt himself hardening more, if at all possible. "Let's make a deal, Y/N L/N. If I can get your precious mortal form to cum in 5 minutes or less, then you become mine."

You stood still for a moment, like a deer in headlights, completely shocked from his words. If you were honest, you had no idea that Loki even knew your last name. "I- I-" you started, unable to pursue words any longer. "Do we have a deal?" Loki spoke, more confidently than ever. "What do you mean I become yours?" You almost snapped at him, suddenly becoming somewhat agitated by the pressure of Loki's presence. "Your delicious physical form will be mine, your mind, your heart, all of it."

"So a slave?" "No, not a slave. I worship you too much. I just want you." You looked perplexed for a moment. "But why?" "Darling, shh. Your questions are terribly incessant. So, do we have a deal?"

"I would like to adjust the terms slightly. If - and I mean if - you can make me cum in 5 minutes, you can take me out on a date. Being a piece of property just really does not appeal to me in the slightest." In all honesty, you did not anticipate Loki taking your bid for a mere date. "Darling, I do not view you as property, not at all. However, I will accept your offer for this 'date.'"

And with that, Loki placed his lips firmly on yours. Slightly in shock, you pulled away for a mere moment. "Ah ah ah, we need a timer." You pulled out your phone, setting a timer for 5 minutes. He planted a kiss on you once more, wasting absolutely no time stripping you of your skirt, bra, and panties. 4m 53s.

He pushed you onto the bed, magically ridding himself of his own clothes as well. With the snap of his fingers, his clothes were removed, the green dust dissolved and they quickly dissipated, revealing his brilliant body underneath. 4m 47s. 

His cock stood at attention, its length prominent. Certainly larger than you had taken previously. You had begun to doubt the possibility of Loki even being able to fit inside of you. Before you could question it further, you felt Loki’s heated breath on your labia, his fingers parting it slightly so he could coax forward your clitoris towards his tongue. 

He brought his mouth to sit around your clit, suckling lightly as he got you warmed up. Similarly, he brought his fingers to massage your breasts, paying special attention to your nipples. Suddenly, a magical green aura flashed, and a second Loki was upon you, taking your lips in his, twisting his tongue amongst yours, and almost most importantly, bringing your wrists up to hold in restraint above your head. 4m 32s. 

Your heat became considerably wetter, especially now that there were two Lokis playing with you. You moaned, which was mostly absorbed by Loki’s mouth, which was still toying with yours. You felt your nipples get pinched, at this point you weren’t sure by which Loki. You just knew pleasure, and that you were writhing with it, overwhelmingly so. 

You felt a teasing finger prod your entrance, almost beckoning you forward to beg for Loki’s member. However, you were distracted enough by the gentle kisses that were being placed on your lips, that you didn’t want to pull away from aside from the ever so slight breath that was needed for your pleasure to continue. Loki’s tongue continued to swirl around your clit teasingly, as your canal spasmed around his finger. 4m 15s.

You felt Loki’s lips release from yours, while you still felt the pressure from the other Loki lower. You let out a brief moan, making eye contact with the Loki above. “Good girl. Let me hear your beautiful sounds, darling.” 3m 57s. 

“You’re quite wet down here, my love. How would you like to feel your God inside of you?” The other Loki spoke from below, while simultaneously continuing to play with your clit and inside of you. You nodded feverishly, desperate to feel more than just Loki’s fingers in you. “Say it, my love.” “Please, Loki. Please.” 

“With pleasure, darling.” 3m 28s. The other Loki who was kissing you disappeared into green dust, as the first stood up. “I prefer this part to be more intimate, just the two of us.” 

Suddenly, Loki’s tip prodded against your opening, he took his time swirling around it before gently pressing inwards. You let out a moan as his tip entered you, pressing against your walls. His girth was certainly more than anyone you had been with previously. He is a god, after all. “Fuck,” you cursed. 

Loki tsked. “Be a good girl for me” he slid inside of you with a sudden movement, fully penetrating you. 2m 45s. 

“Oh my god” you moaned. “That’s right, your god.” 2m 22s. 

Loki brought your legs to his shoulders, thrusting steadily inside of you as he kissed your lips. You had never felt this much pleasure in your life. You groaned out as Loki released your lips from his. “Feels good, doesn’t it baby?”

“So, so good” you moaned, his pulsating inside of you more and more consistent, more intense with every stroke. “You’re so good for me, love.” 

Your legs shaking with pleasure as Loki continued his persistent pounding of your canal. 1m 57s.

“I’m-” you stuttered, Loki hardly giving you a chance to catch your breath as warmth built inside of your stomach. “You’re what, darling?” Loki questioned teasingly, knowing you barely had it in you to answer. 1m 34s. 

“I’m gonna- oh my god.” 

“You’re gonna what, love?”

“Cu-cum.” 

“Cum with me, darling. Now.” 1m 2s. 

You felt Loki’s hot fluids coat your insides, as your pleasure brought you to the most incredible orgasm of your life. Loki, staying inside of you, brought his mouth to yours to continue his delicate, yet intense, displays of affection. “Looks like I got about a minute to spare, my lady. So when’s that date?” 

Loki slid out of you, landing next to you on the bed where he could snuggle in close to you.

“Well, let’s count out today, I won’t be able to walk until at least tomorrow.” Loki placed kisses on your cheek and jawline as he held you close. 

“We’ll stay here until then, my love.”

[taleeater]

Heavy Sleeper

I wrote like half of this at 3am 6 months ago and finally decided to finish it 😅

Generation: Bayverse, 2003, 2007 TMNT

TMNT Donatello x Reader

Pronouns: Gender Neutral

Warnings: illness, fainting, fever, IV

Tags: angst, fluff, illness

Summary: You overworked yourself past exhaustion helping Donnie with a new project. Not that you minded. Or noticed, until it was too late.

Word Count: 3229

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

It has been a long night. …..and a long morning. You had been spending the last few days with Donnie occupied in the lab, helping him with some of the smaller, more detailed work on his new security device. While you were busy soldering pathways onto extra small microchips at the workbench, Donnie was typing away creating the programming at his computer. It required a high level of focus. Which, honestly, you usually didn’t have. However, this project had all your attention, and you had been happily hyper focused on designing the little golden pathways on those tiny green wafer boards for almost 3 days straight.

Donnie was extremely grateful for your help. But he was suspicious how his energetic little dove was being so quiet and still while they worked. The thought came to him a few times that he should go check on you again, but he was equally engrossed in his own project and kept getting sucked back into the work.

Your trick was: caffeine. You had discovered in college that if you drank caffeine on an empty stomach, you could stay extra focused for hours on end. Obviously, this wasn’t good for your health. Or your stomach. But usually you would finish whatever project it was you were laser focused on within the day, so the strain on your body wouldn’t last that long.

This was lasting very long. Very very long. And you had no idea of the passage of time. There was no sun peeking through curtains to inform you that you had worked through the night, or disgruntled roommate checking in to wonder why you hadn’t emerged all day. Donnie’s brothers were very well used to his overworking tendencies, so they paid it no mind he was only coming out for coffee and pop tarts. What they didn’t realize was that you were still in the lair, all assuming you had gone home after the first night. So none had thought to go in to check on the lab.

Here lies the dilemma. It had been maybe 64 hours since you had slept or properly consumed anything besides coffee and a singular package of pop tarts, frequently forgetting about the pile of snacks Donnie kept leaving on your desk. Your back was stiff, muscles sore, and your throat was starting to feel incredibly dry. But all your attention being on finishing your project meant all your physical awareness was finely tuned out.

Except that little tickle in the back of your throat.

It started maybe 5…. 6 hours ago. It was a little bothersome, making you clear your throat and drink a little more coffee to soothe it. But it kept coming back. The tickle started to become a little painful, and clearing your throat turned into small dry coughs. You were drinking more and more coffee to try and wash down the feeling or maybe chase away the dehydration. Your lips started to feel dry, then your eyes, joining in with your uncomfortably dry throat. By the time evening rolled around, your chest was burning terribly, and a migraine had started to thrum with your pulse. Having finished your pot of coffee maybe 2 hours ago and hadn’t bothered to go make more, you were thinking you just needed to get more to drink.

You took a small pause in your welding to push up your goggles and wipe at your dry eyes, when suddenly your vision blurred. For a second, you suddenly found your body lurching to the side off your chair before you caught yourself on the side of the desk.

‘Huh… that was weird. Maybe I’m just tired. I’ll go make more coffee.’

Donnie had been bringing you refills whenever he had gotten up to make more, but you had finished your pot twice as fast as usual. You moved to the side of your chair to stand, and your feet touched the ground with your full weight. To your surprise, your knees almost buckled underneath you, and blackness started to creep in the edges of your vision.

Your body felt weak, and your muscles ached. Keeping a death grip on the edge of the table, you took a slow step towards Donnie’s part of the lab, then another. You blinked rapidly to try and chase away the encroaching darkness creeping in your vision, but too soon your eyesight went dark, and it felt like your brain was shutting down. Internally, you were panicking and fighting to stay conscious, but all you could manage was weakly calling out for Donnie before you blacked out. You didn’t even feel yourself hit the ground.

Donnie, on the other side of the lab, had pulled away from his computer moments before to rub a hand down over his face. This line of code was driving him crazy and he couldn’t figure out where he’d gone wrong. He briefly heard the scrape of (y/n) pushing their chair away from the table, and expected to hear your footsteps head past him to the small bathroom in the back of the lab. He took a moment to flag this line of code- again, for further meddling later. The genius turtle had to admit he was reaching his limits on staying awake and figured it was time he took himself and (y/n) to bed.

But where was (y/n)? They hadn’t come in to greet him yet. Were they just adjusting their chair? That was when he heard it.

“d….don nie…” your voice called out weakly, strained, and barely above a whisper before he heard a light thud from the other room. Had you dropped something? He quickly pulled himself to stand and made his way to the other room to check on what it was you needed.

There. On the floor. You laid still and unmoving on your side against the cold floor.

“(Y/N)!!!!” Donnie exclaimed. Startled, he rushed to your side and dropped down beside you, pulling you into his lap. “(Y/n)! (Y/N)!!!!” He shook you slightly trying to rouse your attention, but your eyes were closed and your body fully limp in his arms. Unresponsive. Quickly, he felt for your pulse, sighing when he found it, but worried by the heightened pace. Donnie scooped you up into his arms and quickly carried you towards the med bay across the lair.

He made his way out of his lab and passed the living room where Mikey and Leo were watching a movie on the TV, and Raph was making a sandwich in the kitchen.

“Huh? Donnie? Is that (y/n)? I didn’t see them come in… are they asleep??” Leo asked when he saw Donnie rush out holding you in his arms.

“No time. (Y/n) fainted in the lab.” Donnie rushed out and speed walked through the clear plastic panels into the med bay, ignoring the startled ‘WHAT’ echoed by Leo and Mikey, and what sounded like Raph choking on his sandwich.

He laid you out gently on the padded white exam table, 3 sizes too big for you, and rushed around the drawers and cabinets. He acquired a stethoscope, thermometer, blood pressure pump, and various other tools to properly check your health and brought them over to the table beside you just as his brothers rushed in.

“ANGELCAKES ARE YOU OKAY??? Ow-“ Mikey rushed in pushing past Leo and Raph and dramatically ran to your side before Raph smacked the back of his head.

“Mikey, chill out. Give ‘em some room.” Raph growled out, trying to pull his dramatic little brother back while Leo stepped forward.

“Donnie, what happened to (y/n)?”

Donnie was now wearing the stethoscope and had the end pressed to the rise and fall of your chest as your breathing strained.

“Hmm… heart palpitations… lungs… crackling sound… that can’t be good.” Donnie was muttering notes under his breath, reaching up to place his hand over your forehead. He found a scorching hot fever and his heart sank. Only then did he turn to Leo. “We… we’ve been working in the lab the past few days… pretty intensely….” Donnie winched. “In hindsight, we did not take as many breaks as we should have. It appears (y/n) has collapsed from exhaustion.” Donnie’s eyes went downcast. He looked equally tired, but guilt was weighing heavy on his shoulders.

“They’ve been here all along?? We thought they went home days ago. Aren’t they usually the one making sure you’re eating and taking breaks to sleep?” The shock in Leo’s voice was clear. You were usually so doting with Donnie, cooking his favorite foods and dragging him off to bed with you to make sure he was well taken care of when he got too involved in his work. It appears this time the tables were turned. “They were helping you with a project? Have they been eating enough?” Leo pressed.

That seemed to have caught Donnie’s attention and he suddenly turned back to continue his check on you. “Yes, I’ve been bringing them snacks whenever I’d get up for coffee. They must’ve been weakened from lack of rest and dehydration…. I’m going to check their blood pressure.” Donnie wrapped the cuff around your arm, and started to inflate it when you started to stir.

“Huh… that doesn’t look good.”

Your eyes fluttered open and you took a deep breath. The bright lights making you wince and shut your eyes again. You moved to bring a hand up to your face but was surprised to feel the tug of something around your arm.

“Mmh? Donnie…? What time is it…” You stretched, confused as to why your body ached so much. Why was he looming over you? And his room was never this bright or cold.

“(Y/n)! Thank goodness… Darling, when was the last time you ate?” Donnie held your shaky hand in his and gently stroked his thumb over your knuckles.

“Hm…? The uh…. Pop tarts you gave me…”

Donnie sighed in relief, remembering he had brought you a package of pop tarts to set on your desk just that afternoon.

“Right after we took a nap together.”

Then Donnie blanched.

“Sweetheart… our last nap together was almost 3 days ago. What happened to the snacks I was leaving on your desk…?” He asked, trying to be hopeful. They had disappeared each time he had returned, so he assumed you had eaten them.

“3 days…? Oh…. Um… they were in the way, so I moved them to the bench for later…. I must’ve forgotten about them.”

Leo slapped a hand over his face. He was realizing you and his brother had more in common than he thought.

“Mikey, can you please go make some soup? Raph, please let dad know that (y/n) will be staying over for the next few days.” Mikey did a mock salute and rushed to the kitchen to make some light chicken noodle soup and Raph left to find Master Splinter in his plant room. Leo went to grab some clean blankets and a spare pillow from their storage room.

Your breathing was labored in the now quiet room. You turned your head to the side to rest against the cool pillow as you gazed up at Donnie with your shiny dazed eyes, cheeks flushed and red. “I almost finished the motherboard… just gotta… add the red and yellow wires…” You trailed off as your eyes slid shut. They burned with exhaustion and the light was hurting your head.

Donnie leaned in close and cupped your cheek gently, and pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead. His brow furrowed with worry, but his eyes were soft with adoration. “You did an amazing job. I’ll finish it up later, you just get some rest. Okay?” His thumb stroked your cheek.

“Mh hm… don’t forget the… polyimide adhesive tape…’s under my jacket…” You mumbled as you easily slipped into sleep.

Donnie smiled at you. He loves you. He loves that you taught yourself engineering to help him out with his workload. But right now he was regretting it, seeing the heavy bags under your eyes as you slept soundly. He scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed.

When you learned that it was difficult for him and his brothers to do the delicate work of designing circuit boards for their tech, he was surprised you immediately showed interest in learning. He admittedly didn’t take you very seriously at first. But then you started joining him in the lab on long nights to study books you had checked out from the library on basic engineering, he taught you how to assemble his tech and how to solder and weld the machines together into things that would help them on patrol and repair things around the lair. He still remembers the first thing you’d ever made. The poorly soldered little metal band he wore around his right pinky finger.

Leo came back in with the blankets in tow. “Should we move them to your bed?” He asked Donnie.

“Not yet, I need to set them up with an IV to get some fluids in them first. I suspect they’re very dehydrated, on top of the general exhaustion.” Donnie was swaying in place. He looked exhausted, and Leo felt worry for you and his brother. It had been a long time since you last let him overwork himself to this extent. He blamed himself for not checking in on his brother sooner.

”Why don’t you go lie down? I’ll set up (y/n)’s IV and keep an eye on them.”

”But (y/n)….”

”-Would want you to rest.” Leo finished with a knowing smile.

Donnie sighed and looked you over. Leo unfolded the blanket and draped it over you so you wouldn’t get cold. Donnie fussed with bringing the edge right up under your chin and fixed your hair. He didn’t want to leave you in here, but he knew Leo was right. He wouldn’t be much use to you if both of you collapsed from exhaustion, so he relented.

”Wake me up if you need anything.” Donnie stood up on shaky legs.

”Uh huh.” Leo put his hands on Donnie’s shoulders and led him out of the med bay.

”And I mean anything-“

“Of course Donnie, now go to bed.” Leo pushed him out in the direction of their bedrooms. Raph and Mikey in the kitchen watched as Donnie trudged and swayed towards his bedroom, and disappeared into the darkness swinging his door shut.

“Duuude. Do I gotta start hiding the coffee again?” Mikey said from where he was chopping veggies for your soup.

Leo pointed at Mikey, “No more caffeine for those two for a month!”

Raph grunted a laugh.

Leo had set up your IV, just like Donnie had taught him. After an hour and a half, your body had absorbed most of the fluids, so Leo felt satisfied enough to wake you up. He shook your shoulder a bit to wake you up. You were deep asleep. The soup at your bedside that Mikey had brought in had cooled to a safe temperature, so he wanted to make sure you ate something hearty before he sent you back to bed.

”Mmh?” You finally started to stir.

”(Y/n), wake up. You’ve got to eat something.” Leo coaxed.

Your eyes fluttered open and immediately winced at the bright light. Leo stood over you to shield your eyes from the overhead light as you adjusted.

“Where’s Donnie?” You asked a bit dazed, looking around. The tickle in your throat was now a scratchy and irritated pain. You coughed hard into your fist.

”He went to bed. Here, Mikey made you some soup. It should still be warm enough.” Once you had sat up he handed you the bowl.

“Try and eat as much of it as you can, so you can take your medicine.”

You hummed in response, stifling another cough. You balanced the soup in your lap and slowly ate, spooning the warm chicken stock and veggies into your mouth. It soothed your throat, and with a few more bites you felt less shaky. You ate slowly, but you managed to finish almost the entire bowl.

Leo looked pleased and handed you your meds to swallow. Mikey poked his head in through the door to check on you as well.

”How’s angelcakes feeling?”

You paused a long moment as you sipped at a glass of water.

“Better.” You croaked. You still felt absolutely dreadful, but, “the soup helped. Thank you Mikey.”

The orange ninja beamed. Raph also peaked in over his little brother’s shoulder.

Leo looked back to you and took the bowl and spoon from your lap. He checked your IV pack and saw that most of it was gone. Your eyes looked heavy again as your body begged for more rest.

”I think it’s time you got some more sleep.” Leo mothered you. He tried to lift the edge of the blanket to cover you as you lay down but your hand stopped him.

Your red rimmed eyes were distant, and you cleared your throat as you found your words. “….Can I go to Donnie’s room? Please?”

Leo couldn’t help but smile at the innocent request. “Sure thing. Come on-“ You sat back up and Leo removed your IV. He motioned for you to adjust yourself, and Leo wrapped you up like a burrito in the blanket before scooping you up and carried you out of the med bay.

Mikey chuckled and rushed over to open Donnie’s door for you and his brother.

”Special delivery!!” He called into the darkness of Donnie’s room. A groan echoed out as the exhausted purple turtle was woken up. Leo carried you in and Donnie scooted over to make room for you to be deposited on his bed.

”Thanks Leo… hey babe…” Donnie greeted you sleepily, sitting up in bed as he received you and untangled you from the blanket.

Leo quietly walked out of the room to give you two privacy, and shoved Mikey’s face out of the way so he could close the heavy metal door behind him.

You stifled a cough, and reached out for Donnie in the darkness. The purple turtle dipped down into your embrace, and smooched your flushed red cheek. His arms slid up your back, and he pulled you flush against him in a warm embrace. He patted around for the edge of the blanket, before pulling it up and covering the both of you. He sighed deeply as he relaxed again against the pillows with you wrapped up in his arms.

”Thanks for helping me….. but please don’t ever do that again.” He mumbled against the crown of your head.

”Do what?” You asked, already half asleep.

”Collapse.”

You hummed a little laugh and snuggled in impossibly closer.

”I’ll do my best…”

Donnie pressed another quick kiss to your head, and you both quickly slipped back asleep.

The End :]

[fiuworks]

so......i didnt expect this post to get as much traction as it did so in celebration of 1k notes (YOU LOT ARE INSANE) some content that i found just as funny that cant be left in the reblogs

@r-u-living did not think i would ever be drawing sopping wet jarchivist but this was too funny not to draw

@cheeto-flavoured-pasta i giggled so loudly

@no-tengo-ojos i raise you: my-boyfreind-stayed-up-all-night-cutting-apart-swimming-goggles-and-now-i-have-to-go-to-the-beach-like-this jonathan sims (he cannot win)

@whitenessgreynessdarkness laikabug get out of the rain you're going to get ill and die laikabug no noo noooo (i need to stop drinking pina coladas and then opening tumblr it has results)

and now some reblogs that made me giggle that i didnt draw:

honored that you're giggling over my content while your teeth are so vulnerable

u guys feed my ego sm its insane ily all

HAVEYOU SEEN THOSE GIANT BASINS THEY USE TO BATHE DOGS IN DOG SALONS. yeah

no

reposting this one AGAIN. this was UNCALLED FOR (loved it havent stopped thinking about it)

anyway thanks for thinking im funny yall its been the highlight of my week truly

[qqueenofhades]

I think the Aaron Sorkin fic people are writing about the convention to be extremely silly. It's going to be Biden. And if Biden's health takes a downturn and he feels the need to step down its going tk be Harris. This fantasy where we skip over her to whip up two random white guys(or like maaaybe Witmer) and somehow cruise to victory instead of fragmenting the party months before the election is simply not going to happen.

Look, I'm just saying, I got an email from the Biden campaign this morning where they seemed pretty darn happy with the actual (i.e. not-bloviating media) results of the debate: $38 million raised in 4 days ($30 million from individual small-dollar donors), 10K new volunteers in a week, 3x surge in campaign volunteers for battleground states, essentially no change or even a modest boost in the polls. So I think at this point, we can cautiously conclude the following things:

The debate looked bad for Biden, perhaps, but doesn't seem to have hurt him nearly as much the incredibly bad-faith BIDEN NEEDS TO STEP DOWN NOW takes being pumped out by the NYT and its other compatriots would suggest. Especially when these same media outlets have been gleefully sabotaging Biden at every turn for years already and whose fake-sanctimonious hand-wringing "for the good of the nation" pieces honestly should get them dropped into Superhell for Bad Journalists;

Biden went to Raleigh NC right after the debate and gave a fiery rally speech that was very well received. Now, I don't know why we didn't have that Biden at the debate, but it was the same night and there clearly was not any "cOgnItiVe dEcLinE" happening there (also Biden has a stutter and has for literally his entire life, and had a cold on debate night, so it was just an unfortunate confluence of factors)

There are very few actually undecided voters in this election (once again: HOW???) and those who tuned into the debate were largely already convinced of which candidate they were voting for and this didn't do much to change their minds. Just like, you know, pretty much every other debate in the history of presidential elections.

Ordinary voters, and not mainstream media outlets with BIDEN IZ BAD goggles clamped over their eyes, were able to see Trump's insane Gish gallops, lies, and full-blown dementia; this isn't going to get any better for him when he's already lost 20%-25% of GOP voters in every state primary and still is going to be sentenced in his criminal trial;

The D.C. political elite screaming about how Biden should step down (FOUR MONTHS BEFORE THE ELECTION) and leave the Democrats to start from scratch with some Star Chamber-selected candidate with no money and no incumbency record and no organization apparatus and a divided party are either fucking weapons grade morons or working secretly for Trump, because that IS in fact the best way to lose the election;

Such speculation seems to fall chiefly on Gavin Newsom, who (to his credit) has shut down any and all suggestion that he should try to step in and take the place of an incumbent who has won every state primary with 90% or more, because he's remotely sane and understands that this year is too important to fuck around with;

I've somehow never seen any suggestion that Biden should step aside for the duly elected (brown, female) Vice President, because everyone seems to think some Young Miraculous White Guy is coming and/or should step in;

All this while SCOTUS is clearly so confident of Trump getting back in that it's willing to grant him Absolute God King status pre- and post-emptively;

Yes, Biden needs to up his game before the next debate (though that's on Fox News iirc, blargh), but I think it's far enough post-debate that we can say it was bad but did not sink him, and if anything, reinforced the fact to many ordinary, non-brainwormed voters that Biden is old (which has been the number one chief theme of news coverage for four years and is no surprise to anyone) but is a decent and principled man doing a good job, while Trump is an absolute gibbering insane orange shitmonger fascist. I don't think he did himself any favors in that regard.

....anyway. The point is, do not be fucking insane people, Biden is not going to step down and frankly shouldn't, don't read the NYT (as noted, they've openly admitted to sabotaging him for personal ego reasons so I don't know why the hell anyone would listen to what they have to say about him), this is still an eminently winnable election, and let's go get those motherfucking fascists. I want Trump in jail and all of SCOTUS and the MAGAGOP fucking crying over it because they fucking suck. Let's go.

[sexlapis]

# the D word

꩜ nanami x gn!reader

ns4w, daddy kink, penetrative s e x, praise, fluff, crack, undisclosed kinks, the tiniest bit of angst, petnames

⤷ synopsis : nanami accidentally reveals his “secret” kink.

wc: 1.4k

a/n: i love a good daddy kink fic #sorrynosorry

masterlists

*

the first time that word slips from his lips, you don’t even think he realises.

it had been a tiring, stressful day for nanami and unfortunately, those types of days are not uncommon in his line of work.

some days are better than others. some days he is here, with you and present even after a bad day but other times��he can be gone for months.

luckily, it wasn’t one of those days.

while you finished off preparing dinner, nanami rests on the couch, head lolling back into the headrest. his noticeable tie is long gone, along with his suit coat and goggles. the top few buttons of his blue shirt are undone, the sleeves of it rolled up to his elbows, revealing the pale expanse of his trimmed forearms.

you walk into the living room, where he is. “nanami, dinners ready. let’s go eat!”

nanami grunts, eyes closed and not making any viable efforts to join you or to eat.

you tilt your head, sympathy in your eyes. maybe he has a headache or just wants to sleep. i’ll leave him the leftovers for work.

“_____,” nanami drawls out, sounding like he’s minutes away from passing out, “_____, c’mere, come sit for a second, hm..”

“hm? oh…ken, are you okay?” you move closer to him, placing the back of your hand on his forehead, “maybe you should go to bed.”

“no. yes. no. i’m fine,” nanami huffs, running a hand down his face before patting his lap, “just c’mere, come sit. come sit on daddy’s lap.”

any thoughts in your head, any words you were to utter, any movements you were to make instantly come to an abrupt halt.

uhm…what?

daddy?

your jaw may as well be plonk on the floor.

now, you and nanami’s sex life is not boring or unsatisfactory in the slightest, the exact opposite in fact. you and nanami were happy with what you had. but you most definitely did not peg him to be the type who likes to be called…that word.

did you like that word though? growing up, you had always thought it was a bit strange hearing your friends call the guys they found attractive a term that one would use for their father. for you, it wasn’t even a question or even a thought. you simply and absolutely were not a fan. it wasn’t for you…or so you thought.

that word. nanami said it so easily, so readily, like he didn’t even think about what he was referring to himself as, like he did it every day of his life.

the way in which he said it, in a weary, gentle groan, urging you to sit on his lap, so unfazed like he knew you would say yes to his request as if he has ever called himself “daddy”.

it makes the pit of your stomach alight with unexpected desire. all because of one word.

so you decide to indulge him (and maybe, secretly, yourself too).

you shuffle the short distance to nanami, carefully sitting yourself right in the middle of his lap and curling your knees up on his thigh, you cheek now smushed against his shirt. the steady rhythm of his heartbeat almost sends you to sleep.

he hums, content when he rings his arms around you body like vines and prods his nuzzles the top of your head, breathing heavily and letting his eyes close.

“this is all i needed…”

the next day, all is forgotten.

*

the next time he said it, the sun had just about risen over the clouds on a lazy weekend.

sweat slides between the gravitating bodies of you and nanami, luminary, golden light shining over the two of you. only the sound of skin coming together and the sounds of soft, tired pleasure were all that could be heard in the room.

nanami embraces you closely as you move on top of him languidly, not in a rush at all but already so, so close to reaching your peaks.

he groans, loud and deep. nanami is more vocal in the morning you’ve noticed, all drowsy and vulnerable and pliant. blonde strands of hair stick to his forehead as rouge washes over his neck and cheeks.

“hmfp…fuck…oh shit,” nanami’s hands finds your rippling ass, groping gently and pulling it, exposing you most intimate areas to the chill of the morn, “i’m cumming. fuck, i’m cumming. you’re gonna make daddy cum.”

it embarrasses you. how quickly your eyes roll into the back of your head when he calls himself that damn name again.

you don’t stop and the unhurried circling of your hips around nanami’s cock as you, quite literally, ride out your high has him clutching onto your waist whilst he releases himself inside of you, jerking himself upwards and holding you in place, ensuring you take it all.

languorous rolls of the hips turn into soft grinds as you milk him for all he’s worth. he’s jelly in your hold, moaning quietly and long eyelashes fluttering.

“god…” you chime, lifting yourself up and off his manhood, making him hiss at the cold. white drips out of you, dripping onto nanami’s lower torso.

the next few moments are still after he moves you lay next to him, still regaining your breath and coming back to earth. you peer to your left and that his eyes are closed.

probably going to fall back asleep…

you kiss his sweaty shoulder, “it’s okay baby, you can go to sleep.

nanami whines, breathes out and he…sleeps once again.

no mention of that either.

*

later on in the day, rain patters against the clear window. you and nanami sit closely on the couch, a book in your hand and a very loved kindle in his. he wears his nerdy reading glasses and a cream-coloured sweater, looking all cosy, homey and domestic.

…your mind is not on the book in front of you. not in the slightest.

daddy… just when i think i’ve got him all figured out…

to you, it’s odd. i mean, it would be odd to anyone if their partner began referring to themselves as “daddy” out of the blue, right? why not discuss it with you first? what if it was a turn-off and you didn’t even like it? then again, nanami has not heard any complaints from your mouth. you’re not even sure you have any complaints about his quite generous use of the word.

i think it’s starting to grow on me.

you should just ask him. but what if he’s embarrassed?

well he should’ve thought about that and discussed it with me?

what if it’s awkward?

well not all conversations in a relationship are going to be comfortable.

what if he just shuts down and gives me the silent treatment?

well, maybe-

“since when you do you have a daddy kink?”

nanami chokes on his own spit, coughing before he sputters, staring at you like he should be the one that’s shocked, “wh-what?!”

“don’t play dumb! are we just gonna pretend that you haven’t been calling yourself da- the “D” word recently?” you whisper-shout the last part, feeling heat rise on your face, “where did that even come from?”

“alright, alright i-,” he sighs, “listen i…i’ve-i’ve liked.. it for a while now. it was just-,” he sighs again, looking to the floor, “embarrassing.”

“…oh nanami…” you cuddle up to him, moving his hand away from his now red face, kissing the back of his hand, “you’re so silly. you don’t have to be embarrassed. loads of people like those things…a heads up would’ve been appreciated though…”

“right. sorry.”

you shrug it off, “nah, it’s fine. i actually think it suits you. “daddy” huh?”

“oh, jesus christ.” nanami presses his eyes together, rethinking his life choices.

“oh no, don’t backtrack now. you brought this upon yourself this time…you do have a lot of…”daddy” qualities to be honest,” you genuinely begin to ponder, “you’re caring, kinda fatherly, dominant, you even carry me to bed sometimes and pick out my clothes and -”

“please-”

“what is it? is daddy getting shy? you weren't shy last night.”

nanami might as well melt into the ground as you snicker in his face. you are having far too much fun with this.

“are you done?”

“yes, daddy.”

“eugh.”

you giggle some more and really, nanami does see the humour in this. a stoic man too embarrassed to tell his partner about his little kink? that is silly.

“but seriously, it’s fine. i kinda like it!”

“yes, i got that impression.”

you smack his bicep. “not too much. just tell me next time, yeah? i don’t want to be having sex and then next thing i know you’re calling me “master” or something, that would be crazy.”

“…yeah… that would be crazy…”

“…”

“…”

“nanami? what-”

*

< thank u for reading ૮꒰ˊᗜˋ* ꒱ა >

[notiddygothgf]

❛ Talk to me, baby. I'm goin' blind from this sweet, sweet craving, whoa-oh. Let's lose our minds and go fucking crazy. I-I-I-I-I-I keep on hoping we'll eat cake by the ocean. ❜

★ pairings: choso kamo x f!reader

★ synopsis: you and choso find a way to beat the heat.

★ c.w.: sexual tension, PWP, porn without plot, happy ending! au?, idk everyone's happy lol, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, cowgirl in the backseat, creampie, blowjobs, choso has mommy issues lowkey, and the reader caters to them lowkey. dom/sub undertones, choso doesnt know how to deal with his horniness lol, old fashioned, nasty ass sex, just read it you'll love it.

★ a/n: hi baby girls!! I have been holding onto this one for a MINUTE bc I wanted to make sure it's perfect. im doin a lil bit of a kinktober, so send those requests in! I hope u all love it as much as I do. bitchz w mommy issues wya???🗣️🗣️

★ w.c.; 8.6k

masterlist

CHOSO LOVED THE BEACH. Not for the reason one might normally proclaim such affection for an otherwise family-friendly pastime, but it was a valid reason nevertheless. He used to hate it, actually, especially when Getou and Mahito would drag him out there on the hottest day of the summer for their stupid villain conventions. He was quite comfortable at home in all of his layers. But there was something about the beach these days, something that had him reconsidering his bias. 

Call him classless, call him perverted. Whatever it was, there was this strange pull towards the beach that had him in a chokehold. He just couldn’t quite place it.

“You’re staring,” Megumi remarked.

Choso’s brow quirked. Letting his head loll to the side, teetering just off the edge of his beach chair, he offered the following words to his brother’s friend. “No, I wasn’t.”

He totally was. The way his sun glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as you walked past the two was a dead giveaway. But, shit, you looked too good to be true. You were this pretty little thing, strutting around in a pretty pink bikini, soaking in the rays of sunlight, and you were bringing a drink to your friend, Maki. Looked like a lemonade. Also looked like booze. It could have been anything, in all honesty, he wasn’t looking there. 

If there was a god out there, he hoped they would forgive him for his ravenous gaze. He had always had a little thing for you, if you will, but the moment you had walked onto the beach today he found himself completely enamored by you.

As you bent down to set the drink in the sand, the bottom of your small pink bikini slipped inward, revealing the smooth, sand-dusted skin of your plump little butt. Then you plopped down on the beach towel next to your friend and popped open the bottle of sunscreen.

Choso watched – rather shamelessly – as you sprayed some of it onto you arm, rubbing it in. You held the canister towards your chest at arms length and released some more of the sheer spray onto the skin there. It trickled down, catching the light of the sun, dripping down between your breasts–

A pair of hairy, pale legs obstructed the view. 

“Found a sand dollar,” Spoke none other than the world’s quirkiest little brother, Yuuji Itadori. In a rather fitting slow-pan up to his face, Choso took note of the dorky goggles that he had popped over his eyes. He was shirtless. You would think that the man would have learned that you don’t need to go deep sea diving at the beach by now. “You guys coming?”

Megumi took the words right out of Choso’s mouth. Or, actually, ‘word’ might be more fitting. 

“No.”

“I’ll pass,” Choso sighed, repositioning his sunglasses over his eyes. Silently, of course, he cursed his brother for putting on such a show in front of – what was he talking about? Choso Kamo… letting his desires cloud his love for his brother? He usually wasn’t this bad. “I thought I threw those out on you?”

“I bought new ones,” Yuuji muttered. He practically tore the goggles from his face, sending locks of pink hair standing up in the air. Tossing them to the side, he plopped between Megumi and Choso on the picnic blanket.

“Of course you did,” Megumi, who had, for a brief – but beautiful – moment been alluded into believing his friend had decided to keep his remarkable lack of social awareness to himself, reached into the cooler they had filled earlier that day and produced a much needed refreshment. 

“Hi!”

Choso, Yuuji and Megumi all turned their heads toward the sound.

It was you. His ‘crush’, as Yuuji had embarrassingly called it. And, shit, you looked even prettier up close. Your hair looked so soft. So did your–

He shook the thoughts away. 

“Sorry to bother ‘ya,” You lowered your head apologetically. You extended your arm out towards the three men. Clutched in your small hand was the bottle of sunscreen you had been using before Yuuji had caught Choso’s attention. “My friend is out cold. Could you just get my back for me?”

Choso felt his face grow red at the mere prospect of being so close to you. He had never had the courage to actually reach out and touch you. He felt as if, for some odd reason he didn’t quite understand, his touch would have killed you. You had always been so sweet to him, offering him small talk, refreshments, and friendly jokes when it was just the two of you away from the group.

“Not a problem, Sensei,” Yuuji replied rather quickly. 

He reached for the bottle. Before he could grab it, Megumi jabbed his elbow harshly into the back of Yuuji’s neck.

“Bitch, ow,” He hissed.

The glare Megumi shot him could have been heard from ten miles away. Choso sighed, refraining from shaking his head.

“I think he’s sick. I’ll bring him to the infirmary,” Megumi added quietly, standing up rather abruptly and taking Yuuji with him. 

Yuuji babbled mindlessly the whole way back.

Highschoolers.

Choso looked back to you. Just you. Alone. He felt his hands get all clammy again. He blamed it on the sun. You were holding the bottle expectantly. 

“Uh… I can… I can help, if you’re okay with that,” He looked away, internally kicking himself for fumbling so hard. 

You only tilted your head at him. Your eyes were so pretty, wide open as they lingered over his body, his eyes, his nose. Your gaze was a wildfire spreading over the expanse of his face.

It was then that he realized he was very, very shirtless.

“‘Kay, thanks,” you smiled softly.

As you laid down on the beach blanket, Choso felt his heart race even faster. He could hardly believe this was all happening – hell, part of him wondered if he had overstepped by offering his services to you. The sun beat down on your skin, his head, the sand – he blamed the warmth flooding his face on the weather. 

You were laid on your stomach only a few inches away, completely oblivious to his moral dilemma. 

He took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself while he reached for the bottle of sunscreen you had set onto the blanket beside you. With hands that trembled ever-so-slightly, he uncapped the bottle and squeezed a small amount onto his palm. The sunscreen was cool to the touch – so, not wanting to cause you even the slightest bit of discomfort, he warmed it up between his hands.

He then hesitantly placed his hands on the smooth valley of your upper back. 

You gasped, twitching beneath his palms. 

“Did I hurt you?” He asked quickly, withdrawing his hands.

“No, sorry,” You sighed, shifting on the blanket and then relaxing once more. “Your hands are cold ‘s all.”

Choso felt the blush coming on all over again. He hoped you wouldn’t turn your head back around and see him like this. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, averting his gaze. 

“You’re all good, hot stuff,” You offered. “You can keep going.”

His face burned like hell at your compliment. He knew you were that way with everyone, dropping little ‘babe’s and ‘honey’s to your friends and fellow sorcerers. He wasn’t anything special, anyway. Surely, you weren’t talking to him.

He replaced his hands on your back, touch delicate like your skin would crack if he pressed too hard. He started with broad strokes, making sure to spread the sunscreen across your skin evenly. His fingers splayed out over your warm, soft skin, moving in circles. He massaged the sunscreen into your back with a tenderness that surprised even himself.

He wasn’t sure what this stuff actually did. He had seen some of Yuuji’s Jujutsu friends slather some on earlier. Judging by the name, he assumed it protected them from the sun. From what, though? Could the sun hurt some humans? He didn’t really understand.

“You’re wondering something,” You asked, seemingly sensing his pensiveness by the way his hands slowed. “Ask away.”

Choso bit the skin on the inside of his lip, “This lotion…” he asked, “What does it do?”

“Sunscreen?” You hummed. “It forms a layer over your skin so you don’t get sunburnt.”

“Sunburnt…” He reiterated. 

“Yeah, that shit hurts,” You added. “I’m guessing Itadori never gave you the run-up on beach necessities…?”

“I guess not,” He remarked quietly.

“I can show you how to apply yours if you want,” You said.

Choso’s heart felt like it would burst. “Okay,” he said, pausing slightly. “I’d like that, thanks.”

Then he was back to his job. His hands smoothed over your back, dipping down a little lower until his thumb brushed against the strap of your bikini. He felt suddenly aware of how soft and warm you felt beneath his touch. 

He was dangerously close to the knot in the string that held your whole getup together. He worried for a moment that the dainty bow would come undone – by some strange, supernatural turn of events – despite him making a great effort to move around it. 

Choso’s breath hitched when his finger caught on the string, making the knot snap against your skin. He froze up, heart pounding in his chest, perfectly still over your body. The string felt like a fragile barrier between your warm skin and his cold touch, between your body and the thoughts that raced through his mind.

He wondered if you found him weird and off-putting. His gaze flickered up to your face, leaning over slightly, searching your face for any sign of discomfort. 

But when he looked into your eyes, he found you were looking at him with the same curiosity. You smiled at him, pretty lips forming a reassuring expression, wordlessly encouraging him to keep going. 

Slowly, unsurely, Choso continued his ministrations. He trailed two digits down your spine, stopping at the string. He felt a knot beneath the skin there. He knew sorcerers put themselves through rigorous training. He didn’t doubt that you were feeling sore from the mission you had just come back from a few days ago.

“You’re tense here,” He said quietly.

You turned your head to look at him, “Yeah?” 

“Right here,” He pinpointed the exact area with his knuckles, pressing deep into the tissue. 

In response, you moaned quietly, back shifting beneath his touch. His shorts seemed to get just a little bit tighter. 

Calm down.

“You got magic hands, Choso,” You quipped, though your voice was strained as he passed over the knot a second time. “You could be a masseuse.”

He felt his nerves subside only slightly, though he felt flustered by your words.

You got magic hands.

You could be a masseuse.

Unbeknownst to him, the sensation of his touch created a pleasant tingling beneath your skin. You closed your eyes, letting him take the reins.

Choso continued to work his fingers over your back, feeling the tension slowly melt away beneath his touch. He had used up the last of the sunscreen to cover your lower back, the skin just above your bottom, and he realized his job was done.

“I think that should do it,” He said softly, voice tinged with reluctance as he removed his hands from your back.

You sat up, stretching, turning towards him, eyes sparkling, “Thanks, Cho, you’re a lifesaver.”

You’re a lifesaver.

A shy smile tugged at his lips, “Of course.”

Then, to his surprise, you asked. “You’re sweet. Mind if I sit with you?”

Choso felt his heart skip more than one beat. His eyes widened. He looked at the sand, the shoreline, anything but you. “Sure,” he said.

Smooth, dumbass.

You grinned and pushed yourself up, saying, “I’ll be right back.”

Choso took a moment to collect his thoughts as you left. He was getting ahead of himself. Way ahead of himself. Stll, you had chosen to spend more time with him. You wanted to sit with him. 

Conveniently, only a brief moment after you had stepped away, Megumi returned with Yuuji in tow. Choso quirked a brow at the speed of their return.

“That was quick,” he remarked.

Megumi shrugged, “Took him to get ice cream on the boardwalk instead.”

“You get her number?” Yuuji asked.

“I was doing her a favor,” Choso’s calm facade broke. With wide eyes, he hissed, “Pervert.”

“Dumbass,” Yuuji sucked his teeth.. “Look, tonight’s the night to make a move. When else would you find yourself alone with her like this?”

And before Choso could respond, you came back, holding a speaker in one hand. “I brought snacks!” You smiled.

Some time around sundown, sometime after Getou had summoned up one of his low-grade curses to start a fire, the beach day transformed itself into a fireside chat. It was a picturesque scene. The sky was a canvas of blue, with hues of pink and orange painted over the horizon. It was mostly empty there, now. The waves lapped calmly at the shore, a quiet noise that seemed to accompany the quiet chatter of friends gathered around a fire.

There was laughter, groups of people indulged in conversations. Everyone seemed so calm, so happy, it almost seemed to good to be true.

Megumi and Itadori were caught in a cock-off with Maki. Nobara stargazing on her and Maki’s beach blanket. Gojo and Getou were talking in his direction, but not necessarily at him.

“I just think you have an unfair drinking advantage because you’re a man,” You were saying just off to Choso’s side.

The mood was light. Everyone seemed to be content. 

Choso, however, couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from you. The warm, fading sunlight seemed to caress your features from the side, highlighting your pretty smile and making your eyes shimmer. He found himself completely and utterly enamored by you.

You and Getou had cracked open a bottle of Tequila about an hour ago. Getou’s boyfriend long-term-long-distance-low-commitment-casual-boyfriend, Satoru Gojo was red in the face, slouched against the bare chest revealed by Getou’s unbuttoned floral shirt. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Gojo chuckled, letting Getou top off his fourth shot of the night.

Getou denied any relationship with Gojo. Their eyes betrayed them, though. The connection was evident in the loving glances they exchanged. 

You had a faint flush of your own, though you had only taken two shots so far.

He tried two of his own, only because you didn’t want to do them alone. He had never been big on drinking. He just didn’t want to seem like a pussy.

“Why don’t you pour me one so we can test that theory?” Nobara nudged you in the side.

Choso watched the scene unfold with mild interest.

“Because you’re a minor,” You said.

Nobara pouted, leaning back onto her blanket. “Not like I’ve never drank before.”

Maki chimed in over her shoulder, “Got vomit stains on my carpet to prove it.”

“Shut up,” She bit back. 

You handled the situation effortlessly. “I don’t condone teen drinking,” You began, your voice softening as you continued, “But. I know the four you will probably go hit up one of those beachside bars tonight with your fake IDs anyway.”

“Fake IDs?” Gojo looked at Megumi out of the corner of his eye. Megumi did not look back.

You clapped. Choso’s ears perked up at the sound.

“That being said!” You raised your voice a bit. “I would rather you drink something less potent. Under adult supervision.”

You turned to Getou and Gojo, who exchanged knowing glances before nodding their approval. Choso couldn’t help but be impressed.

“So who wants a Malibu rum spritzer?” You clasped your hands together.

Excitement rippled through the group, and all of the kids, yes all of the kids, Including Yuuji, eagerly raised their hands. 

Choso shot his brother a disapproving glare, one that dissipated the moment you leaned in, laying your head on his shoulder. Your voice, soft and smooth like your skin, enticed him as you sing-songed, “Let the kid live a little.”

It was rather remarkable, actually, how quickly his defenses melted at your gentle persuasion. He sighed in resignation. “Alright.”

You grinned up at him, effortlessly stealing his breath away. 

“Great,” you said, getting up from your spot without another word. “I’ll go get them from my car. Don’t wait up for me, I walk real slow.”

Turning your attention back to Choso, you looked at him with a warmth behind your gaze he couldn’t quite place. “Choso, sweetie, could you help me carry the cooler?”

His heart soared at your request – at the prospect of you wanting his assistance. He got to his feet quickly, eager to help. 

The sand felt cool beneath his feet as he followed your lead. 

The moon hung low in the sky as you and Choso strolled through the parking lot, searching for your jeep. The temperature had dropped quite a few notches from earlier, cold breeze rustling through Choso’s hair. 

When you spotted your ride, you said, “There it is!”

Choso followed wordlessly behind you. He was still quite nervous that – for the second time today – it was just you and him… alone. Yuuji’s words echoed through his mind.

“When else would you find yourself alone with her like this?”

You popped the door to the backseat open, sitting on the floor – your truck was raised a bit off the ground, so it didn’t put you too far below him. 

“My legs are so fucking sore,” You sighed. You dusted your leg off with the backside of your bare foot. When you peered up at him through those long, dense lashes of yours, he felt himself fall for you a second time. 

You asked him, “Mind if we take a little break?”

Choso nodded along like the dumb little dog he was for you.

You pushed yourself up and away from the truck, gesturing for him to get inside. It didn’t take much at all for him to step into it and take a seat. You settled in right next to him – perhaps a little closer to Choso than was strictly necessary. He couldn’nt help the pleasant shiver that went down his spine at the feeling of you sitting next to him; so warm, so soft, so perfect.

You let out a contented sigh and leaned your head on his shoulder once more. “I got tired of bein’ social,” You confessed.

He tried hard not to quirk a brow at the admission. Am I an exception?

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” He asked sincerely. He tried even harder to ignore the warm weight of your small head on his shoulder.

So close.

“No,” You hummed quietly. The interior light faded away, gently submerging the two of you in darkness. He could still see your face, your eyes – the way they seemed to sparkle as they looked up at him. “You’re different.”

Choso’s heart took the liberty of skipping one, two, three beats. 

You continued without allowing him time to come up with an adequate response. “Can I be honest with you, Choso?”

His cheeks flushed. Still, curiosity piqued, he muttered, “Of course.”

Your voice was soft and vulnerable when you replied, “I think you’re really hot.”

If his face wasn’t hot, it sure was now. He turned away even though he knew you couldn’t see him blushing. 

She thinks I’m hot?

Does that mean she likes me?

You had nothing but sincerity in your eyes while you gazed up at him. “You feel the same way, don’t you?”

He bit his tongue, answering honestly, “I do.”

He hated how calm and collected he sounded. On the outside, he was the image of composure. On the inside, he was dying a hundred times over. 

You grinned at his admission. “Can I ask you something else, then?”

His lips suddenly felt very dry. He tried his best to focus on the street outside, counting landmarks and objects like his life depended on it – two seagulls, five wooden posts, two dim street lights.

“Sure,” he said.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked. “I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

And, dammit, when you asked him like that – he could practically feel the last of his resolve crumble beneath your gaze, beneath the weight of your head on his shoulder, beneath your gentle touch on his knee that he hadn’t noticed until now.

You were so close. So close that if he turned his head, angled it down just slightly, your noses would touch. He felt your breath, warm and steady against his neck – a calming symphony that contrasted the trembling mess he had become,

Yuuji’s words played on repeat again. Tonight’s the night to make a move.

He was such a fool for you. Still, he considered himself to be a man of restraint.

His voice was small and scarce, hardly above a whisper when he breathed out, “Yeah.”

Time seemed to slow down as your request hung out in the air. He could feel the anticipation building, buzzing. His heart pounded against his ribcage like a mallet to a gong. He had spent months wondering what would happen if you – by some odd, small chance – returned his affections, and now, with your vulnerability laid bare, he couldn’t resist any longer.

He considered himself to be a man of restraint, that was, until he peered into your wide, longingful eyes. 

With a barely noticeable nod, Choso turned his head just slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. Just as he had anticipated, your noses brushed together – he could feel the warmth of your breath on his lips. 

You were magnetic.

And in that final, heart-pounding moment, your lips met in the middle – in a gentle, tender union. Choso’s hand seemed to find its own way to your cheek, touch soft as he cupped your cheek. He felt for some odd reason that you might vanish altogether if he let you go.

He wasn’t entirely sure if it had been you or him who deepened the kiss. Either way, he felt himself melt into the seat. The world outside seemed to fade away, ceasing to exist in your presence. None of it mattered – not the empty, public street, not the group of friends waiting on the beach for his return.

Yuuji. 

Choso pulled away with a shuddering gasp, pressing his forehead against yours. He licked his lips, panting, “The drinks… We– we should probably– uh… get those.”

He feared that if his heart beat any faster he would explode.

You made no effort to put any distance between you and him. In fact, you put your hands on his shoulders, moving yourself so that you were situated comfortably in his lap. 

“There’s no rush,” You hummed. “Getou and Gojo are probably off sucking face somewhere, and those kids have been keeping themselves entertained just fine. Who would notice?”

His eyes were everywhere but your face. For a half-curse, he found himself to be no better than a man, hungry eyes wandering over your body – your eyes, your lips, the subtle curve of your waist, the fabric of your bikini that seemed like it was hugging you just right.

You seemed to have caught him in the act. 

“Do you wanna touch me, Choso?” You asked, and it sounded like an invitation.

Still, he worried he was reading too deeply into things. Doing his best to refrain from making you feel any sort of discomfort, he swallowed, “I…”

He was about to fucking explode – both metaphorically and physically, judging by the way his shorts began to tighten again at your words.

“You think I didn’t see you staring today?” You continued, letting your fingers slip into his hair. 

He wanted to freeze up, wanted to feel some form of remorse, but when you were massaging his scalp so gently, so lovingly…

“I’m  sorry,” he lied.

“Don’t be,” You giggled, and he felt his stomach do a fucking flip at the sound of it. You leaned in close to him, close to his ear, and whispered into it, “I was staring, too.”

He felt like such a virgin, thighs tensing up at your admission. He thought of you on the beach again – sneaking sideways glances at him, at his body, at him…

He felt his resolve break when you pressed a soft kiss to the shell of his ear. 

“Kiss– Kiss me again,” he breathed, feeling slightly lightheaded from all of the attention you were giving him. You placed another kiss to the corner of his jaw. “Please… kiss me again.”

You pulled away, pressing your nose right up against his again. Your breaths were shallow and ragged now – strange. “You want me, baby boy?”

Baby boy. Baby boy, fuck.

He licked his lips, “Please.”

And then your lips were on his without so much as another word. You ate him up like a starved woman, teeth nipping at his lower lip for entry.

The last of his restraint flew out the window.

The kiss was electrifying, sent sparks shooting through his veins, fingertips tingling as they found their way to your hips. It was a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. He could taste you – the sweetness of your lipgloss as it smeared messily over the lower half of his face, the beat of your heart thrumming beneath his touch, the scent of sunscreen that lingered on your skin.

He found himself getting lost in the moment.

He deepened the kiss further, gripping your hips, your lower back with a bit more confidence. For a moment, he could forget about his responsibilities, his past. It didn’t matter; not now, not when he could feel your body pressed up against him, hot and soft and compliant.

His face burned when he felt that familiar tingling feeling – he knew he was getting hard beneath you, he could feel the way your hips lifted when you adjusted yourself over the tent in his shorts. 

However, to his surprise, you didn’t pull away. Instead, you pressed into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing yourself even closer. He felt dizzy, sliding his tongue across your wet lips, exploring your mouth. You tangled your fingers in his touseled black locks, rolling your hips against his slowly, hesitantly, like you were testing the waters. 

The jolt of electricity he felt from that small movement had him pulling away. Even in the midst of the fervor, Choso was acutely aware of his own impulses. He feared he was getting too far ahead of himself; if you kept rubbing yourself against him like that, he was gonna cream his fucking pants like a middle schooler.

“Wait, wait– ah–” He grunted, leaning back against the seat.

“Hmm?” You hummed – still, you only slowed down a little bit.

His mouth hung open. It felt so good, the friction, the feeling of your warmth rolling up and down the thin layer of fabric separating the two of you. Fuck — why did he tell you to stop, again?

He fought hard to regain his composure. “I– I’ve never done this before,” he stammered.

“Really?” You asked, teasingly, almost, like you knew the effect you had on him. You rutted up against him again, a little harder. “You’re a natural.”

He could feel you – the thin cloth covering your nether regions left little to the imagination. You felt so warm, so welcoming. He ached to pull the thin fabric to the side and sink into you.

Fuck. Stop. He turned his head away, at war with his impulses.

Again, for a half-curse, he felt like nothing more than a man. A weak man, and it was all your fault.

The whine that left his mouth felt anything but natural. “Won’t– What if someone sees us?”

You said nothing. When he looked back at you, you were undoing the knot behind your head – the one holding your bikini together.

His eyes went wide. If his attraction to you were any more obvious, his jaw would have been on the floor. 

“Let them watch,” You grinned. Then you let your top fall over, breasts spilling out like something out of a porno. 

He was in awe. You were perfect. There were little bits of sand stuck to the skin where your bikini lay only seconds prior, faint tanlines already forming over your skin. He felt his mouth water.

“You can touch them, if you want,” You answered his unasked question.

And he wasted no time, gently cupping one of your tits with his large, warm palm. He gave it an experimental squeeze. Then another. Then his thumb wandered down to your nipple, giving the bud a gentle flick.

You whind, hand sliding up the back of his head. 

She likes that, he noted.

So, deciding to take his experiment a step further – and for the sake of conserving time, he began peppering kisses to your hot skin, to the valley between your soft, plush mounds. He held both in his hands, rolling his thumb over the hardened buds to compensate for the lack of attention.

He wanted nothing more than to take his sweet, precious time with you – committing every curve and valley of your body to memory. But, alas, he knew you were on a time crunch. Any minute now, someone could find the two of you here, like this.

He kissed his way back over to his hands. Then, finally, he wrapped his lips around that place he knew made you feel good. 

Sure enough, you arched into him, pink, swollen lips parting to release a pant of his name, “Choso, baby.”

He flattened his tongue over the tip of your nipple, rolling over it in slow circles – then quicker ones, until he felt the spit gathering between his lips and your skin. You responded in kind by rutting against him a little faster. He had never felt a burn quite so delightful in his life.

He can’t quite help himself from letting out a little whine when you tug on his hair. The flavor of sunscreen and salt lingered on your skin. He felt hot– you were hot, oh so hot.

Before he could return the favor on the other nipple, you pushed him away. You looked disheveled, pupils blown wide, hair frizzed up.

“Y’feel so big,” You gasped, still humping his hard cock like a dog in heat. You stopped, but only to sink into the space between his legs and the back of the driver’s seat. Splaying your fingers over his thighs, his shorts, you panted, “Wanna taste. Can I?”

He could only blink up at you. This isn’t real.

“Of course, baby,” He replied, throwing the nickname from earlier back at you, already reaching for the strings of his swim trunks when you batted his hands away. Your enthusiasm made his head spin.

He let you take the reigns – watching with hungry, lustful eyes as you undid the bow yourself. You reached for the waistband of his shorts, tugging them down and letting his dick spring free. 

It nearly hit you in the face, how big the thing was. He had never actually thought about it that way, at least, not until now, when you were gazing up at it with wide eyes and wet, parted lips. 

Your eyes were on his tip, glistening with a bead of precum, then wandering down the shaft as the two of you watched it drip.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked.

You didn’t bother pulling his pants the rest of the way down, or even acknowledging his comment. No, the moment the waistband was out of the way, you were swallowing him whole.

Choso exhaled sharply, nearly doubling over at the sensation of your warm mouth closing in around him. He felt the muscles in his abdomen tense with the strain of it – he thought he could cum like this, with your lips stretched around him, and he didn’t really think he would mind testing that theory.

His skin was hot. He burned for you.

You pulled up. Sucking him back into your mouth, you hollowed your cheeks. Then you throated him again, right up until your nose brushed his navel. He felt himself throb in your mouth.

“Fuck, ‘s good,” He heard himself whimper weakly, tangling a trembling hand in your hair while you picked up the pace.

And you went at it like you were made for it. Up and down, up and down, fitting him all the way in until the head of his cock bumped the back of your throat. Over and over again, until his vision blurred a bit at the edges, mind a little hazy with lust.

You were sucking and slurping on him so lewdly – fuck, he could die like this. 

You didn’t show any signs of stopping, either.

He moaned – much to his embarrassment – actually moaned. You were working him rather quickly up to what he knew would be an earth shattering (albeit poorly timed) orgasm. 

You made a noise in response, though it was broken up by the nasty, dirty sound you made every time you gagged on his dick. You peered up at him through half-lidded eyes, through long, wispy lashes, leaving a trail of saliva running down his thighs that he didn’t even mind.

Choso caressed the side of your face, biting his lip. “Mmh,” he panted, “You do it so well.”

In response, you put a hand over his. You directed his gentle touch to the top of your head, instructing him to push down. Hesitantly, gently, he began to guide your head, bobbing you back and forth on his length while you sat back and let him use you. 

He noticed that you were struggling to fit the whole thing in your mouth. He saw that there were tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but he knew you were determined. He used his thumb to wipe your tears away, tucking your hair behind your ears to keep it out of your face.

With a shudder and a whine, he pushed your head down a little further. You gagged on it again, swallowing him down, tightening your throat around him like you were made to suck dick.

If this was to be his last night alive, he would die a happy man.

His legs felt weak, as did his arms. You took over, gently assisting him in fucking your mouth. 

“Ah– nnh, you’re–” He licked his lips, guiding your head while allowing you to continue setting your own pace. You were making him feel so good, so hot.

You pulled back for a moment to slurp unceremoniously on his tip, letting spit drip down his shaft. You wrapped your hands around him, working what you couldn’t fit into your mouth while your tongue did tricks on his tip – circles, shapes, letters, he didn’t even know anymore.

He felt like he was going dumb.

Just as he leaned his head back into the seat, you pulled off, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Got carried away,” You giggled breathlessly. “Sorry.”

Then you were climbing right back into his lap, bracing your hands on his shoulders, kissing him with a ravenous hunger. 

“I’m not gonna blue ball you, don’t worry,” You licked your lips. Reaching down, you slipped the fabric of your bikini thong to the side. “I want you.”

“H–...” He trailed off, fighting to catch his breath – better yet, to regain his surroundings. “How do you want me?”

In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to feel you sink down onto him, to feel your warmth envelop him entirely. He wanted you to ride him past the point of hypersensitivity. He wanted you to use him until you were satisfied – like some sort of fuck toy.

He didn’t care anymore. He had left his inhibitions at the door. 

“Wanna fuck you right here, like this,” You muttered against his lips, licking a stripe from his chin all the way to his cupid’s bow. You guided the head of his dick between your folds, smearing your slick all over him in a way that made him arch up. “Wanna drain that pretty cock of yours, wanna cum all over it– can you do that for me?”

You were so nasty… so dirty that he found himself a red, blushing mess at your words. But, still…

For you?

Anything.

“Yes,” he groaned. He felt like he was going to melt if he waited another moment longer. “Fuck, please, use me until you’re satisfied.”

He hadn’t even thought about saying it. It had slipped out.

You paused, blinking down at him with wide, lustful eyes. Finally, you said, “you’re such a good puppy, you know that?”

He would be whatever the hell you wanted him to be.

“G’nna let me ride you, pretty boy?” You cooed, sliding your hands up his torso, up his bare chest, up his shoulders while you hovered over him. 

This was moving quickly. Not like he had any objections to that, of course. Clearly, you didn’t either. As you positioned the tip in line with your dripping cunt, sinking down onto him, he felt his eyes roll back into his head.

He gasped, letting his eyelids fall shut. He didn’t even care that he was losing his virginity in the backseat of his coworker’s truck like some cheap whore. He would let you take it, take more, take everything you wanted from him.

You lifted your hips and then sank down on him again, eliciting a strangled grunt of your name from him. The filthy squelching sound your cunt made as it squeezed him in threw him for a loop.

He leaned forward, shivering, burning his head in your neck. “S’too tight,” he panted, though he let you continue working on him with a remarkable amount of ease – sliding back and forth in a way that had the both of you panting for more. “Fucking– shit, ah–”

“Chosooo– ‘S so big,” You moaned his name like it was made of honey, fucking yourself down onto his dick, letting all of the sinful noises flow from your lips. “Fuck, feel it in my guts.”

He would have thought you were lying to him if it weren’t for your spectacle earlier.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he breathed. When he looked up at you again, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. You were the image of pornographic beauty – sinful, beautiful, sultry. Your brows were scrunched together with concentration, legs trembling around him as you slowed down to savor the way he worked you open.

“Pretty baby,” He mused, running his hands over your stomach, your hips. “You keep goin’ like that ‘n– fuck– I won’t– Last long.”

“Mmh,” you giggled.

Then you picked up the speed a bit, like you hadn’t even heard what he had just said. You were rising and sinking on his dick with newfound purpose, chasing after the promise of paradise like a wild animal.

“Look at me,” he begged, eyes half-lidded and desperate, tongue running across his lower lip. “Fu-uck– please, ‘M...”

You obeyed, meeting his gaze with such a fiery passion that he almost wished he hadn’t asked you – feeling that coil in his gut grow a little tighter when your hazy eyes were on him. You bounced obediently on his cock, up and down, up and down until you were a grunting, groaning mess. 

“Mm… fuckkk,” You sighed, hips faltering a bit. “Feels good, Choso.”

Choso felt his hips twitch beneath you, hands tensing on your backside. Then, slowly, he began to meet your thrusts midway. His ass lifted off of the seat, legs spreading a bit further apart while he used his strength to continue fucking you senseless.

He was mesmerized by you, by the way you clenched and squeezed him, by the way your mouth lolled open to make way for broken cries of his name, by the way your tits bounced in his face whenever he thrusted up into you.

He worried for a moment that he was being too harsh with you. 

“Harder– please!” You gasped, clawing at his shoulders, at his chest.

Still, he obeyed. He fucked you dumb, hips snapping up against your ass with such strength that the whole car lurched forward. Your head came dangerously close to the ceiling.

But he didn’t have the guts to stop. Not when you were screaming for him, repeating his name like some sort of mantra. He was as weak for you as he had always been.

“Choso– Choso–”

The feeling of your warm, wet walls massaging the head of his cock had him whimpering into the crook of your neck. It was a hot, gummy abyss he wouldn’t mind getting sucked into for the remainder of his life. 

“You like that?” He asked you, spare hand sliding up from your hips, past your breasts, to your neck. 

He knew now that you liked it rough. He could provide that. 

So, with no further warning, he gripped your hip roughly, sliding into you at full force. You cried out his name again, fingernails digging into his skin. 

The car bounced every time he pounded up into you. Faster, faster. 

It felt like you were squeezing him for dear life. 

Choso cried out, a broken whine as he slowed his thrusts for a minute to a much slower pace. Feeling your perfect pussy clenching around him, he nearly doubled over from the sudden pleasure. “Please,” he gasped, laying his head back. “Fuck, that’s good.”

You bit your lip, sliding up until it was just the tip left inside of you, and then slamming back down onto him at full force. You repeated this action a few more times, lips parted to make way for the sinful… sultry moans that passed from between them. Clearly, you were relishing in the way he squirmed and gasped beneath you.

He couldn’t blame you. He knew that he, too was doing everything he could to commit this scene to memory, wild eyes raking over your body, over the junction where you met him. The way you were riding him… shit, he didn’t know he would be able to make the walk back. 

You looked so obscene like this, all fucked out, dumb on his dick.

Throwing your head back, you groaned.

He was gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. Fuck, he knew that– cursed strength and all. But he couldn’t bring himself to slow down.

“So f-fucking good,” he stammered. He sought out your lips again, snapping his hips up against your ass mercilessly. For someone who had been so concerned about being discovered a little while ago, his quiet grunts and gasps turned into moans and whimpers against your sore lips. Louder and louder.

Admittedly, though, he was more focused on the noises coming out of your own mouth. You were practically screaming for him.

He had no idea that sex could even feel so mind-numbingly good. For him, especially, but for you…?

You froze up rather suddenly, hips spasming wildly, toes curling up on either side of his thighs while you gasped brokenly. 

“FUCK!”

There it was.

He felt his face burn. You cried his name again, bouncing up and down on it, wildly chasing after that high. “Choso– m’close–”

“You gonna cum, pretty girl?” He hummed, once again throwing your nickname back at you. He grinned, knowing full and well that he had cracked the code. So he kept that same speed, same pace, same everything while his fingers dropped from your neck to the mess you had made between the two of you.

He knew what to do now – surprisingly enough. He had done some… internet research after his brother had broken the meaning of his feelings down to him (along with what Choso was to do when his crush came to fruition). 

What? Curses didn’t make love. Sex was transactional.

He was curious about how sex was on the human side of things.

He ran his tongue over his thumb, reaching between the steamy, sweaty union of your bodies to find your clit. He pressed down, rolling over the nub in quick, expert circles. 

One look up at you, and he knew you were close to your breaking point. You looked like you were about to pass out, letting yourself be thrown around on his wild hips like a ragdoll. You were too weak to move, so you sat there and took his dick like a good girl, eyes glazed over with pleasure while he fucked you dumb.

You looked like you were in love.

Choso sped his ministrations over your clit up a little faster, feeling the knot in his own stomach begin to grow faster than he wanted. He was in another world, out of this plane, hypnotized. 

All he could see in that moment was your angelic face above him, face scrunched up in pleasure – and partially in pain, as he bullied his cock into your cervix – sweat rolling down your neck, your breasts, your voluptuous body.

“Mine–” You gasped out, clawing at his shoulder blades while your back arched. “Oh– fuck! Th’s dick ‘s mine, mmh?”

It was.

He nodded. But, clearly, that wasn’t good enough. Your hand shot out to grip him by the neck, painted fingernails digging into his throat. 

“‘S yours,” He gasped back into your mouth. “All yours, I swear– ah–”

You were so hot. It made him feel things– feel like he was dying over and over again in the best way possible.

That along with the way your hand gripped his throat – using your small thumb to cut off his blood supply for a few seconds too long before loosening your grip, letting him gasp for air as the blood came rushing back – he felt lightheaded.

The way your pussy was spasming around him certainly didn’t do anything to help. He knew you were close, shit, but could you hold on a minute?

You were gonna make him cum too fast.

“You’re mine, yeah?” You asked again, keeping your grip strong on his neck. “All mine?”

“M’yours,” The cursed womb grunted against your neck. His brows were furrowed in concentration. His teeth nipped at the sensitive skin, careful not to leave marks. “All yours.”

He meant it. Even though he would have said anything you asked him to at this point, he really meant it. He hoped you knew that.

Judging by the way you came a moment later with a stutter of your hips and a strangled cry of, “Cho–”, he assumed you understood. 

Your cunt was a warm, wet, death trap, walls milking his cock for all it was worth. 

Shit, he thought. You really weren’t lying about that.

His dark eyes were burning into yours, burning with a desire so intense he felt he might burst at the seams if he kept looking a moment longer. 

“Want you to cum inside of me,” You commanded him, holding his head in your trembling hands. “Fill me up, please, I need it.”

His eyes widened, blinking down at the white ring you had made around the base of his dick. His eyes flitted back up to you, pleading with you to let him go. Pleading for you to give the soul that you stole from him back,

“I can’t–” he released a trembling breath.  

He thought of himself as a father raising a child. Right now, it didn’t seem so bad.

“Please, ‘m on the pill,” you begged him, gazing into his eyes like you knew he wasn’t strong enough to refuse. “Wanna feel it dripping out of me. Think about it– what– ah– what would they think? … If they knew–”

You gasped when he delivered a harsh smack to your ass, slowing his strokes so that he could savor the way you sucked him in. “If they knew we snuck off to fuck? That– that I had your cum dripping out of me while they ask what took us so long?”

“Fuckk,” Choso groaned, hips trembling beneath you. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, cheeks burning. His breaths – and yours – had fogged the windows up.

You squeezed around him one more time, placing a tender kiss to his lips. You muttered into his mouth, “Do it f’me… please, Choso.”

“Mmh–!” And that was all it took. Choso rolled his hips up into you one more time, twitching, whining, feeling your warmth spasm around him as he spilled into you. He drove as deep up into you as he could – holding onto you for dear life while the coil snap, and he came so hard that his legs gave out. Lots of it. 

So much that he felt it drip out.

You sought another kiss from him, sealing your lips together. When you pulled away, you giggled, “Good boy. Good puppy.”

“God,” he shuddered, falling back against the headrest once his orgasm subsided. You fell against his chest, snuggling up to him.

And Choso, not knowing what else to do, pressed a kiss to the top of your head. To his surprise, you didn’t immediately leave him in the dust. Instead, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, basking in the warmth of your post-coital bliss. 

You broke the silence after a minute or two. 

“So…” You began, trailing a finger up his bare chest. “Help me carry that cooler back to the beach?”

And Choso, breathless, felt himself begin to laugh.

The two of you came back onto the beach. Choso was carting the cooler behind while you walked ahead, waving your friends down. 

As you approached, Itadori remarked with crossed arms, “The hell have you guys been?” His hair was done up into two, pink, little pigtails. It was clear as day that Nobara had a hand in his current hairstyle.

“Oh!” You had grinned rather awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand. “We– Well, we realized we didn’t have as many spritzers as I thought. Had to make a run to the liquor store.”

Itadori raised a brow. Still, if he noticed something, he didn’t say anything about it. “Uh huh.”

Choso bent down to set the cooler onto the ground, back turned to the group.

Getou peeped up from his paperback novel, lips twitching at the sight of Choso’s back. He nudged his counterpart, Gojo.

Who nearly spat out his drink.

You sat on the beach blanket nearest to Gojo and Getou. The moment your butt hit the sand, you practically collapsed into the ground. 

You could feel eyes on you. So, begrudgingly, you rolled over, throwing Satoru a weak glare. “What?”

He only nodded towards Choso.

You turned around, following his gaze. It settled over his back. He bent down, picking a few spritzers out of the ice. It was then that you noticed the harsh red claw marks on his shoulderblades. 

Subconsciously, your gaze drifted down to your hips, to the skin where purple imprints of Choso’s fingertips stood out as clear as day.

You gasped, then, clamping a hand over your mouth.

“So,” Gojo began casually, handing you a shot. He leaned in, ocean blue eyes twinkling as he teased you, “Was he gentle? He seems like he would give it rough.”

You turned to his not-boyfriend, brows furrowed. “Suguruuu…”

It was with no great amount of satisfaction that Getou looked up from his novel. “Satoru,” he sighed languidly. “Not in front of ths kids.”

Gojo ignored his not-boyfriend’s remark. “Was it big?”

You sank back into the blanket, feeling the heat of your embarrassment burn your cheeks as your words from earlier came back to bite you in the ass.

Who would notice?

a/n: hello there my precious little sugarplums! I hope u enjoyed the first installment of my kinktober writings ( which will prob continue throughout the fall bc I started hella late ). send in requests! there's no part two to this, but I would write one if enough ppl requested it. yk the drill though, comment ur thoughts/wishes below! I love reading them. reblogs are alway always always appreciated bc my reach is ass on Tumblr...

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

credits: cover artist(s) unknown??, dividers: @bpdier, @cafekitsune

taglist: @missphanosaur18 , @bontensbabygirl, @megumissunshine, @chocoyanchan, @littlelovebug98, @lucisimpongod, @xochyw, @jaegerstan222 , @electro-supremacy, @mellytheteddy, @clover0310 , @soraya-daydreams, @priussy, @insanehumantinker, @staygoldsquatchling02, @nonksity, @hinata7346, @chososwhoresblog, @mindurownbussines , @hearts4sid , @simplefools , @ynjimenez

wanna join the taglist? | like this story? read more! | requests open!

[heliads]

Can you do Peter Pan x reader OUAT? Peter goes to the modern world with Emma, Snow, David and them as they are looking for someone. He meets this girl and takes an interest to her. He’s never seen someone with facial piercings, and dyed hair before, they come to realize she is the girl they’ve been looking for.

'magic finds magic' - peter pan

masterlist

Peter Pan is leaving Neverland. Worse, he’s leaving Neverland alongside Snow, Emma, David, and Hook. In terms of traveling partners, this has got to be the lowest of the low. However, the sand in Peter’s immortal hourglass is running out, and his first attempt at prolonging his life with the heart of Henry Mills didn’t exactly go according to plan. It’s this or nothing, even though Peter is starting to wonder if it would be better to just die than put up with these people any longer.

Never in his life did Peter Pan think he’d be working with the good guys. But never in his life did Peter think he’d be dying, either. A few compromises will have to be made in the name of preserving Peter’s everlasting life, and if that means he has to put up with some princesses and pirates for a few days, so be it. In no time at all, his immortal life will be restored, and he can go back to Neverland and put all of this behind him. Hopefully.

Peter was supposed to die back on Neverland. He was running out of time, anyway. He had set up the perfect scheme:  kidnap Henry, disorient the boy’s rescuers on his island long enough to win the Heart of the Truest Believer, and cut the organ out of the boy’s chest if necessary. He’d almost gotten away with it, too, except he was foiled at the last minute. Heartbreaking. So unlike him.

For some reason, though, he hadn’t been left to die in the caverns of Skull Rock. Emma and the others had needed him, for some odd reason, and although none of them trust him in the slightest, they do trust Peter’s single-minded selfishness to keep himself alive. So they claim, at least, and so they had gotten a spell to give Peter one more week of life in exchange for help. If this plan works out, Peter will have a way to continue his immortal life without needing to murder Henry. If it doesn’t, or if he betrays them, he’ll die anyway.

He can feel it now, the pang of his close call with death. There’s a pain in his chest that wasn’t there before, a certain weakness in his lungs. Peter gets tired more easily. He feels– well, he feels like Henry and Emma. He feels mortal. Like he could die at any moment.

Peter has, obviously, thought about double-crossing them, maybe even triple-crossing them, but it’s no use. He feels shakily mortal right now, and Peter does not much enjoy the possibility of his own demise. This is the closest he’s ever come to being beaten, and Peter hates the feeling. He’ll have to play along for now, but after that, he will have his revenge.

First, though, Peter has to do what the others want. They’ve been careful to reveal as few details to him as possible, but the idea is solid. There’s a magical person somewhere in the modern world, in a city far from Storybrooke. This person is like the embodiment of a true love’s kiss spell, designed to renew hope in storybook characters through small acts of power that ultimately drive two needed people together. They’re like a guardian angel of those on the brink of destruction, which is exactly what Peter needs right now.

Peter has plenty of time to mull this over. They’ve forced him into a terrible, small room with awful carpets– an apartment, Emma called it– while they talk out what to do with both him and their missing spell-person. Peter is trying to focus, but he’s getting stared at by Henry Mills again, which is absolutely ruining his mood.

“What do you want?” Peter asks, glaring at the boy.

Henry just goggles back at him. “Don’t you feel bad for trying to kill me?”

Peter snorts. “Why would I do that?”

Henry shrugs. “You pretended you were my friend. I know you like the other Lost Boys on your island, I thought you would have felt bad for killing one of them. I guess not.”

“I don’t feel bad about killing someone so I would live,” Peter says, then wonders why he’s arguing with a child. “Go preach your morals to someone who wants to listen.”

“The others are busy,” Henry pouts.

Peter eyes him unhappily. “And what, I’m your best option for polite conversation? You really are desperate, aren’t you?”

Henry rolls his eyes. “I’d say you’re desperate. You’re the one who’s still talking to me.”

Peter can’t really argue with that, so he deftly changes the topic of conversation before Henry starts looking proud of himself again. “Tell me about our target again. You said you saw them before?”

“Only in a dream,” Henry admits, “but it was a clear dream, I swear. I saw a girl who looked about your age. She seemed like any other teenager, but there was something about her that was different. The way she spoke, maybe, or the glint in her eyes. She was magical, I’m sure of it. She can save Storybrooke.”

“And save me,” Peter reminds him. “That’s the important part.”

Henry rolls his eyes again. If he keeps that up, they’re going to get stuck like that forever. “Yes, I know, you’re only interested in keeping yourself alive. So long as it helps us find this girl, though, I don’t care.”

Peter leans forward. “What’s your plan for finding this girl, then? A little scouting party? This city is big. You’ll never find her.”

Henry shakes his head. “Magic has a way of finding magic. Somehow, our paths will cross.”

“That’s a terrible strategy,” Peter grouses. Why is he entrusting his life to this boy again? He remembers something about having no other options, but it doesn’t seem as good an excuse right now.

“Ask the adults, then,” Henry tells him, and gestures towards the miniscule apartment kitchen, where Emma, Snow, Hook, and David are currently huddled around a table, talking in hushed voices about what to do.

Not wanting to mess with the kid anymore, Peter pulls himself to his feet and heads over. “Tell me you have a plan,” he says.

The adults look up at him. “Find the girl,” Hook says shortly. “That’s our plan.”

Peter scoffs. “You could search this city for months and not find her. What if she doesn’t want to be found? If this girl has any brains at all, she’ll know that people will want her magic and she’ll hide. It’s what I would do.”

Emma sighs. “We don’t even know if this girl knows that she has magic. She’s probably just living an ordinary life, and we’re about to drag her out of it with all of our trouble.”

“Don’t tell me you feel bad for her,” Peter scolds her. “You want this, don’t you? So go get it, or I will.”

Snow tries to tell him to calm down, but David, so quick to anger when it comes to Peter, surges out of his chair. “How about you do something helpful and think with us instead of just insulting us?”

“I will do something helpful,” Peter informs him. “I’ll find her first.”

With that, he lunges for the apartment door, and is out of the tiny room and down the hall before they can stop him. Peter hears the thunder of footsteps after him, but he hurries down the stairs and out of the building. He has the advantage of being quick on his feet; if Neverland taught him anything, it’s how to run when you don’t want to be found.

Peter emerges into the bright sunshine of the city and stops dead in his tracks. He’s not used to the modern world, how the knives of its buildings slash up into the sky, how loud it is with those cars and signs and people. Peter swears he can even see metal things in the sky, soaring along predestined paths. It’s all so much compared to the world he used to know. No wonder some of the others had a hard time adjusting. His mortal heart lets out a pang of sympathy.

The door of the apartment building flies open, revealing Emma and the others hot on his trail. Peter curses under his breath and takes off in one direction, hurtling around pedestrians and shooting down the sidewalk. He heads for smaller streets, hoping to lose them in a swarm of alleyways. The others, more used to the terrain of the modern city, are gaining on him, and Peter is just starting to think that he’ll never be able to shake them when someone grabs him and pulls him into a nearby building.

Peter’s first instinct is to defend himself, but when he isn’t attacked, he realizes that the stranger is only trying to help him. There’s a window just to his left, and Peter watches Emma and the others appear seconds after him. They didn’t see him enter the shop, and keep sprinting down the road in the direction they thought he’d gone. Peter waits a few more intense moments, then decides that he’s lost them for good and turns back around to see who’s gone to the trouble of rescuing him.

He’s greeted with the sight of a girl about his age. She’s eyeing him cautiously, although the corners of her lips begin to prick up with a wicked grin. “Sorry for the rough introduction, but you looked like you needed some help,” she tells him.

Peter lets out a short laugh. “I’m glad to be rid of them, that’s for sure.”

The girl arches a brow. “What, did they catch you shoplifting? I’ve never seen people run that fast unless they were getting chased by the cops.”

Peter narrows his eyes, trying to figure out how on earth he would lift a shop, then decides it’s probably some slang term he doesn’t know. “Something like that,” he says evasively.

He studies the girl’s face to see if he’d answered correctly, and, judging by her impressed grin, he had. “Nice,” she says. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Peter,” he replies. He gets the urge to introduce himself as he usually would– Peter, Peter Pan– then remembers at the last second that Emma had warned him about telling people who he was. Apparently, telling people he was a fictional character in their world wouldn’t go over too well.

“Peter,” the girl repeats. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Peter says, and realizes belatedly that he means it. He feels like how he had at the start of it all, when the Lost Boys had first started appearing on this island, but this feeling is far stronger. He wants to get to know this girl. He certainly doesn’t want her to leave.

“I’m new to the city,” he says abruptly. “Any chance you could show me around?”

Y/N laughs, surprised. “You’re new and you’re already in trouble? You’ll fit right in, Peter.”

He grins, in on the joke a half beat late. “I like to have fun, that’s all.”

“Well,” Y/N says, starting to lead him back towards the door of the shop, “I like fun, too. Maybe we should stick together.”

“I’d like that,” Peter says, then wonders why he’s being so honest all of a sudden. When he sees Y/N’s smile– real this time, not sarcastic or joking, but genuinely because of him– he thinks he knows why.

The two of them step back out into the light. “Where to first?” Peter asks.

“I was going to ask you that,” Y/N replies. “What do you want to do? Sightseeing, maybe? We can get some food, or just talk.”

“Anything,” he says. He’d follow her anywhere. The feeling in him right now is like nothing he’s ever felt before. The pain in his chest, Peter realizes with some surprise, is gone. He feels immortal. Like living in this one moment could last forever.

They end up spending the next few hours together. Y/N shows him around the city, taking Peter to her favorite spots. Peter stares at the vast cityscape and finally starts to understand why someone might choose the modern world over the natural one. He’ll always pick Neverland first, of course, but seeing the world through Y/N’s eyes, it makes sense.

The two of them get along like a house on fire. Y/N’s got this rebellious streak to her that fits in perfectly with Peter’s, well, Peter-ness. No joke is too dark, no sarcastic comment too caustic. They feel the same. Peter doesn’t think he’s ever met someone who thinks so much like him.

As the sun starts to set in the sky, Peter feels his spirits sinking. He doesn’t want to let go of this day, not when he knows it can never happen again. He’s supposed to be finding Henry’s spell-girl, but all Peter wants to do is spend more time with Y/N.

His mood is especially ruined when they turn a corner and find Henry Mills walking towards them. Peter’s eyes widen and he tries to steer Y/N back in the direction they’d come, but it’s too late. Henry lets out an audible gasp and starts hurrying towards them.

“Peter,” Henry calls out when he’s close enough to talk, “We’ve been looking for you all over! Where have you been?”

Y/N glances at Henry dubiously. “Who’s this?”

“My little brother,” Peter blurts out.

At the same time, Henry chimes in, “My friend from school.”

Peter shoots the younger boy a quick glare, then turns back to Y/N. “Both, actually. He’s my step-brother. Recent marriage. We’re still getting acclimated. Our family is a little chaotic.”

“You can say that again,” Henry mumbles. Peter fights the urge to butcher him.

While Peter silently advises himself on why murder would be bad at a time like this, Henry stares openly at Y/N. All of a sudden, the boy’s mouth hangs open. “Oh my gosh, it’s you.”

Y/N’s brow furrows. “Excuse me?”

All of a sudden, Peter feels a sick sensation in his stomach. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t.

“You’re the girl from my dream,” Henry announces. “We’ve been looking for you.”

Y/N looks back at Peter. “What’s he talking about?”

The open, carefree expression, which had been on her face all day, is starting to be replaced with deep, unsettled fear. Peter hates to see it directed at him. “There’s something I need to tell you,�� he begins. “Something about yourself.”

“You’re sounding a little creepy right now,” Y/N warns him. “Get to the point.”

“Alright,” Peter says. “You’re magical. So am I. We need your help to break a curse and save my life. How about that?”

Y/N shakes her head quickly. “This is crazy. Magic isn’t real.”

Peter can’t lose her, not like this, so he leans forward and holds out his hand. A ball of light appears inside his cupped fingers, glowing and bright. It’s a simple charm, one of the first he learned, but it has the desired effect. 

Y/N stares at it, transfixed, and when she speaks again, her voice is hushed. “That’s impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible,” Peter says. “Not magic. Not even the fact that you would find me in this city by accident. Magic is drawn to magic.”

Y/N’s eyes slowly raise to meet his. “This is real, then. I have magic.”

“You have magic,” Peter confirms. “Come with us, we can show you. They’re good people, Y/N. You can trust them.”

It’s the closest he’s ever come to honesty. For once, Peter isn’t playing a game. He isn’t trying to trick Y/N over to his side. He just wants her to be safe, and he knows that isn’t through lies.

Y/N smiles at him. “I trust you, Peter. That’s enough for me.”

She reaches over and takes his hand. Now that he’s focusing on it, Peter can feel the slow loop of her magic when they touch. It feels like power, but more than that, it feels like life. A life with her, maybe. A life for both of them.

ouat tag list: @loveanimals0000, @eclliipsed, @w1shes43, @lost-ender

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[uniquexusposts]

This is embarrassing - M. Verstappen (2)

Summary: Y/n and Max meet again at the slopes. Part one Part three

And the next day was even busier on the slopes. The last time it was so extremely crowded at the ski lift... Three years ago. It almost looked like people were waiting for a Harry Styles concert. It was a beautiful day, but not a special day. Well, it was Christmas Day, but usually, it would be quiet on the slopes.

Y/n was watching the chaos from a distance. Her plan was to ski for an hour, but suddenly, she didn't look forward to it anymore. She removed her helm from her head and grabbed the skies from the ground. Time to go home. An annoyed feeling flowed through her veins. She hoped that she could some time on the slopes, just to relax - well, to empty her mind - and then to get ready for the evening. For a moment, she longed for a lockdown again; no people, no queues, not having to share the slopes with anyone. Y/n turned around and made her way to the exit, passing everyone complaining about the busyness.

Her eyes fell on someone who was struggling to remove his skies from his boots. Y/n walked towards them. "Do you need some help?"

"Oh, yes, please. I can't get those off."

Y/n explained to the person how to do it.

"I always feel so stupid when it doesn't work." The person put off the goggles and removed the helmet. A smile came on his face. "Hey, you, again."

A smile grew on her face. "We keep bumping into each other," she smirked.

Max noticed that the young woman was an easy talker and joked around. "It's almost getting too notable." He took a deep breath. "Thanks, for this. But, err, I really need to go to the restroom, so I'm gonna go."

"Yes, sure. I wont hold you up any longer." She grabbed her gear from the ground again and saw how Max walked in the opposite direction from the restrooms. "Hey!" Y/n stepped towards him. "It's the other direction," she said, pointing behind her.

"Yes, I know. But the queue is long. And I can hold it up for a bit longer."

"Oh, okay," she nodded.

Max walked away again. It was a good day to go out, and he wasn't the only one who thought about it like that. The entire village thought like that. Today was more about waiting than skiing. Max looked next to him, and the young woman was walking behind him. They made eye contact, and she shared an awkward smile. "It's busy out there," he said to her.

She nodded. "Unfortunately," she mentioned. "How many times did you manage to get up there?"

"Four times now, since this morning. You?"

"Zero." She sighed. "I was about to hit the slopes, but then I saw the queue and turned around."

"You're late."

"Yeah, I hoped that everyone would be too drunk because of the Après-ski and would get ready for their Christmas dinner," she honestly shared.

Max couldn't help it, but he laughed. "That's quite the strategy." He looked in front of them. "I feel like it's much busier than before."

"It's the same as before Covid, actually. But it looks busier."

"Ah, makes sense."

"And during Covid, when we were open, only the guests from the resort had access. And now everyone has access again."

He nodded. "Fully back to normal."

"Yep." Y/n struggled to carry her skies, which annoyed her more. "Where do you stay?"

"Other side of the village," he replied. "We're renting a house. It's called Maison de Neige."

"Ah, that's a lovely house. Far away, though."

He looked at her and noticed the somewhat judgy look. He knew it sounded stupid. Why go to your accommodation to go to the bathroom on the other side of the village when there's a restroom nearby? "I know, I know. But it was so busy."

"Yeah, I mean, I would do the same," she agreed. "You know what? I live there," she pointed at a house across the street. "If you want to, you can use the toilet. Saves you some time."

Max raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure?" He scanned the houses in the street. He thought those were holiday accommodations since all of them looked huge.

Y/n nodded. "Yes. It's no problem."

For a moment, Max hesitated. Could he trust her? But on the other hand, she didn't look like a person who would take advantage of him. "What is your name, actually?"

"Oh, yes, right. My name is Y/n," she introduced herself.

"Nice to meet you, Y/n. I'm Max."

"I know," she whispered. "Nice to meet you, too." Y/n zipped her coat open and grabbed her keys. She opened the door that led to the garage.

Max followed her inside. He closed the door behind him and looked around. On the left side, one car was parked. On the other side, he saw a lot of ski gear. In the middle of the garage was a wooden bench to undress from the thick layers of ski gear. And that was what Y/n did. He followed her attitude.

"The relief when taking those boots off..." She got up and waited for him.

He put his helmet on the bench next to him and got up as well. "...heavenly," he dreamingly said and followed her upstairs. His eyes fell on the photos on the wall of the hall; a lot of family photos.

"Eh, here is the toilet," Y/n said and opened a door in the hall.

She left Max by going to the kitchen. Now she wasn't going to the slopes anymore, she wanted to treat herself to a glass of hot chocolate for the disappointment. Treat yourself. But now, did she need to ask Max if he also wanted a glass? She invited him over, but just for the use of the toilet. What if he thought this was weird? Y/n grabbed her hoodie that was hanging over the bar stool in the kitchen, put it on and stepped into her slippers. She leaned against the kitchen counter, debating her decision. If he says yes, give him hot chocolate. If he says no, nothing else will happen. It's not the end of the world.

"Thank you."

Y/n looked up and saw Max standing in the hall. She friendly smiled. "No problem," she said. "And, eh... This may sound weird, but I'm gonna make some hot chocolate. Do you want a glass too?" She was waiting for his reaction. "It's okay if you want to go back..." she quietly added.

"Can't say no to hot chocolate," he responded with a smile and entered the kitchen. "And it's not like it will be less busy now, on the slopes."

"Fair." Y/n heated some chocolate milk.

"No offence," Max broke the silence. He only had seen the kitchen, but the kitchen looked new and modern. And the size of the house was big; he assumed the entire property was one home. And the car in the garage was the new Volvo. "But what do you do for a living to live in a house like this?"

She looked at him and smirked. "It's my parents' house."

"Yeah, okay, I already thought so," he made the assumption. "But even then. They say it's expensive to live in this area."

"It is," she confirmed, pouring the hot chocolate into two cups. "Whipped cream?"

"Yes, please."

Y/n grabbed the whipped cream from the fridge and put it on the hot chocolate. "So, yeah. It's not like my dad is the mayor of the village, but he is in charge of the slopes; the maintenance, staff, etcetera. And my mum is the general manager of Blue."

"Blue?"

"The resort." She handed over the hot chocolate and sat down on one of the stools at the kitchen island.

"Thanks." He sat down next to her.

Whenever Y/n would say that her parents were a big name in the village, she was scared that people would think that she would use that position for herself. She was proud of her parents, but... "So yeah, the daughter of."

"How is that like?" Max could perhaps fill in the answer, but he wanted to keep the conversation going. He ate some of the whipped cream.

"I would say lonely; they are barely home. We always have to postpone the holidays to moments when it's not busy. But on the other hand, my brother and I help them, so we always have something to do around here. And I really can't complain about where I live."

He nodded. "Yeah, I can imagine... It has its pros and cons?"

She nodded as well and carefully took a sip from her drink.

"I'm barely home as well."

"You know how it feels from the other side," she quietly mentioned and smirked to keep the conversation light. "But," Y/n started and smiled, "what will you be doing tonight?"

Today was Christmas. "We're staying at the Maison and making dinner on our own. We spend the evening at the restaurant yesterday. Yesterday we dressed up; today, we wear the ugliest Christmas jumper."

A smile grew on Y/n's face. "Sounds good."

"And you?"

"My parents said that they might be off for the evening. And if that isn't the case, my brother and I will relax, have a Christmas film marathon and eat too much food." Y/n stroked a piece of hair behind her ear. "It sounds like we don't have friends or other family, but they already have plans."

"I'm not judging you. Who am I to judge?"

You are Max Verstappen.

"Besides, I prefer lazy Christmas evenings over busy, formal, perfect-not-so-perfect Christmas diners where you can't be yourself," he added.

She pushed the corners of her mouth down and looked impressed. "You have a point there."

"See."

"I don't know, it sounds so pathetic. A 24-year-old celebrating Christmas on the couch."

"I think a lot of 24-year-olds are jealous of you. Secretly," Max comforted her and lightly shrugged. "But, now I am here with a knower of the slopes. When is it quiet on the slopes?"

Y/n took a sip of the hot chocolate and licked her lips when she could feel the whipped cream on them. "Tomorrow morning," she replied. "And the morning after New Year. When the slopes open at 8 o'clock, to 9 o'clock-ish. No one wants to be there in the morning after a holiday with a hangover or a lack of sleep," she chuckled.

"Will you be there?"

"Oh, absolutely," she replied without hesitation. "I can't say no to an almost empty slope during the peak days."

A laugh rolled over his lips. "I like how dedicated you are."

Y/n held up her shoulders and looked proud of her knowledge. "Quality over quantity," she playfully said.

"As you should."

"You can join me, if you want. We're going with the family."

He squinted and thought about it. An empty slope? Fantastic. But with a hangover or only a few hours of sleep? Meh. "Let me think about that."

"Of course, no stress. We're leaving at half past seven. I will see if you will be downstairs tomorrow." She took the last sip of the hot chocolate.

Max nodded, emptying his cup as well. "Thank you for the hot chocolate, it was good," he smiled. "I'm going back to the Maison, calling it a day."

"I'm glad it was."

They made their way to the garage below the house, and Max put on his gear again, ready to enter the cold again. Well, it wasn't that cold, but it also wasn't warm. A decent temperature, but on the colder side to ski.

"Thanks again," Max smiled and opened the backdoor that led to the street. He was holding his skies and helmet in his hands, really showing he would go to his own place.

Y/n crossed her arms in front of her chest when the cold circled around her body. She smiled. "No need to thank me. Merry Christmas, Max."

"Merry Christmas," he smiled. "And maybe I will see you tomorrow morning. Half past seven, right?"

She nodded. "On the dot," she playfully said.

A chuckle escaped his mouth, and he stepped away, turning his back to her. "We will see," he mentioned and threw his hand with helmet in the air.

The smile on Y/n's mouth became wider, and she shook her head. Meeting him was the last thing that she expected, let alone drinking hot chocolate with him. She closed the door and locked it again. Her eyes fell on her ski gear, she didn't tidy it up. A sigh left her mouth, and she picked up her skies, placing them in their holder on the wall. She grabbed her boots and put them on the side. When she grabbed her helmet from the bench, the backdoor opened.

"Hey, Y/n/n,” her brother's voice filled the garage. Theodore grinned when he looked at his sister. He was wearing his teacher's ski outfit, meaning he got back straight from the slopes.

Y/n raised her eyebrows, and an annoying look came on her face. She hated that nickname, and he knew that. "Piss off," she mumbled. "Close the door for the cold."

"Good..." The deep voice of her dad said. When he stepped in, he was looking at his watch. "...afternoon," he finished when he saw it was a few minutes before six o'clock. Her dad was dressed normally; trousers, leather boots, a trendy coat.

"Ah, how cosy," a female voice then filled the air. A woman entered the garage, wearing her work clothes, and closed the door, locking it. "When was the last time we all stood in the garage at the same time?" The mother was widely smiling.

A soft smile grew on Y/n's face. "Are we all home tonight?"

"Yes."

"Yup."

"Absolutely."

Something she never thought would happen. She hoped for it, knew it was unrealistic, but this... A Christmas present to the family. "Love it," Y/n smiled and grabbed her coat. She brought her helmet and coat upstairs and stored them in the closet. She got to the kitchen and put the two used cups in the dishwasher.

“Y/n/n,” mum said when entering the kitchen. "Shall we make dinner in an hour?"

"Yes, sure."

"Do I need to help with anything?" Dad put on the coffee machine and leaned against the counter while crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Mum took a deep breath. "Uh..." She looked around the kitchen. "Let's just relax for a bit. My brain is a sponge." She left the kitchen with a glass of water in her hand and a yawn that escaped her lips.

"What's on the menu?" Dad asked his daughter. "And do you want a cup of coffee?"

"A cappuccino, please," Y/n replied. "And we have carpaccio, salmon with veggies and tiramisu," she mentioned and opened the fridge. "But we have to make the tiramisu since it was sold out."

"Let's make the tiramisu, then we will set the table and do the rest," he replied. "Mum has an extremely busy time; let's give her some rest. I think we need tonight simple anyway. Dinner and then watch a movie. I'm exhausted, everyone is exhausted."

Theodore entered the kitchen. "Sounds like a plan. Honestly, I'm not even dressing up. I'm gonna shower and put on a Christmas jumper, and that is all I will give you tonight." He yawned. "I've seen so many people today, I am overcooked."

"Was your class fun?" Dad asked his son and made a coffee for Y/n. "Coffee?"

Theodore nodded at his last question. "Yes, please. And the class... I have this annoying child I have to deal with, but overall, it's fine. Glad we have nothing tomorrow."

"Are we still doing the ski trip at eight tomorrow?" Y/n then asked.

"I say yes, but only if I have the energy for it," Theodore breathed.

"I will go, it's the only time I can go," dad breathed.

Part three

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