#but neither are here again exceptionally

[originalartblog]

tiny abilities

[parfaitblogs]

peace ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you self isolate, and spencer knows better than to let it get too bad. 

pairing: spencer reid x reader genre: hurt/comfort tags: established relationship. suicide ideation? ("i want it to end"). depression. lots of stuff that coincides with that. brief mention of reader not eating/having no food. please be aware of your triggers. i think i mention reader as a girl somewhere? word count: 1.9k a/n: i finished this then relistened to peace (taylor swift) which was the og inspo for this, and added a section in the middle so if it feels weird its because i failed at integrating it! this was supposed to be out two days ago. all my relationship insecurities in a fic. lol how embarrassing here's my heart tumblr dot com!! anyways enjoy ily all

also posted here on my ao3 !

Three consistent raps against your front door was the only sound that got you up that day, pyjamas that you had not shed from your body in a week hanging off a frame that could probably be described as lifeless — with the nearly dead-looking face to match.

In fact, the only thing to prove you were still a living human being aside from your movement, was the pink hue around your eyes, on your nose, and above your lips, indicating how much you had cried recently. 

Usually, it isn't this bad. You just need a day or two of rotting in your apartment and doing nothing but scrolling on your phone until it died, staring at the wall, or — on the better days — watching reruns of a 90s sitcom that you don't really watch. 

But it was exceptionally bad this time around, for some odd reason, and not one part of you actually wanted to get up and out of bed for long enough to be productive about your day. Your phone had died again, after charging it two days ago, which meant you were on day six of no communication with anybody. Which might partly be why it was so bad now. 

You had a blanket wrapped around your body, dragging against the floor as you wiped your eyes and let out a small sigh, unlocking your front door and opening it, completely unsurprised by the person standing on the other side. 

He was the only one who ever paid enough attention to your disappearing act when you were like this. 

His eyes softened at the sight of you — which is kind of amusing, considering you thought you looked like death reincarnate currently. 

Neither of you said anything as you stepped aside to allow him in, the door clicking shut behind him as he placed down the leather bag he had slung over his body, turning back to you as he finally allowed the frown to appear — one you knew he would've had the entire way here.

"Have you eaten today?" was the first thing to break the silence — the question coming out so gentle you were sure you'd break down again at some point in the next few seconds. 

You wordlessly shook your head, and he nodded his own, saying nothing else as he walked into your kitchen, knowing you'd trail behind him no matter what. 

He opened your fridge first, before closing it when he was greeted with the alarming sight of nothing. Doing the same with your pantry, at which he turned around to look at you.

"Angel, you have no food," he said. And while it held no malice in the tone of his voice, you could tell he was slightly annoyed at the fact. Your heart ached. 

"I know. I'm sorry," you mumbled, and his eyebrows creased inwards. 

He didn't mention your apology — arguing with you about your vast use of 'sorry's' is futile. "Do you want a pizza?" he asked instead, and even though you, mentally, did not, you knew he wasn't actually asking. So you only nodded your head, and found a place at your countertop, the blanket falling from your body and pooling to the ground in a heap.

He ordered a pizza, and then he was nudging your knees apart, standing between them while you stayed sat on a stool, his chin atop your head, that was buried into his chest. 

And he said nothing, as he held you like that until the pizza arrived. And then he ensured you had at least eaten two slices, the remainders going in your fridge for the next meal you needed to eat. 

He was so kind to you, with his every movement, as he dragged you into the bathroom to help you shower. 

It was heartbreaking, the love you could see in his eyes. The tenderness in every stroke of his fingers against your scalp as he washed your hair, the softness in his touch as he did the same to your body. He gently dried you, told you to stay there, disappeared, and returned with one of his many t-shirts left in your apartment drawers. 

That was when you cracked. When he pulled the shirt over your head, that smelled so painfully Spencer and you. The mix of his clean scent and your own laundry detergent that you were so accustomed to, triggering something in you.

So, you crumpled to the floor of your bathroom, and he followed soon after, his arms wrapped around your body once more, firm enough to keep you still as you sobbed into his chest. 

You weren't sure how long you stayed like that for. Long enough for your head to hurt, and your eyes to sting, and hideous snot bubbles to stain his cardigan. 

When your sobs subsided, he spoke. 

"You wanna talk about it?" he said, quietly, and you shook your head. 

"Don't know what to talk about," you mumbled, and he knew that all too well.

He nodded his own head. "Did something happen?"

"Lots of little things."

"Yeah? You wanna tell me about them?"

You hesitated, because you didn't know where to begin. But then you nodded your head wordlessly, swallowing the lump — and, by extension, the sob — in your throat. "I fell down on the stairs at the train station in front of everybody. And then I missed my stop, and I was late to work. And I had a huge project due, but I didn't finish it, and I forgot I hadn't finished it, and I was anxious about it all day. And I think my friends are just pretending to be my friends, because I keep trying to make plans with one of them, and she keeps blowing me off for her boyfriend. And I'm just really sick of being sad all the time, Spencer. I want it to end."

With the onslaught of your bad vignettes throughout the past month coming back up, you broke down, again. Another sob escaping your lips as you pushed your fists down into the tops of his thighs.

If it hurt, he didn't say anything; simply continued to hold you against his chest, on the floor of your bathroom, that, if it were any other time, he would be having a field day rambling about the germs you both were currently sitting on. 

He also didn't say anything for a while as you sobbed, instead his fingers entangled gently in your hair, and he peppered kisses along the top of your head. 

"I don't want it to end for you," he finally said. His hands slid down from your scalp to your face, holding your cheeks with such tender, pulling you back so he could look at you. 

You sniffled. "I'm so exhausted."

"I know, my love. I know," he sighed, thumbs caressing over your cheekbones. "Ending it won't fix that. You know, logically, however you die is the state you'll be in, in the afterlife. So if you die while you're exhausted..."

"You don't believe in the afterlife," you answer, but his words still cracked through your tearful expression, and your lips twitched with a small smile. 

He returned the small smile, nodding his head. "That's true. But I also don't know anything about post-death. I could be wrong."

"How terrible," you mutter, and he laughed, quietly. 

"I know," he mused, falling silent for a few moments longer, with only both of your quiet breathing to break the silence. 

His fingers ran through your hair once more, and you sniffled audibly, your brain wandering away from the small content you had felt in that exchange, and back to one of the many reasons why you had isolated in the first place. 

"Why are you still with me?" you said, slicing through the silence all at once. 

You watched the smile fall, and his eyebrows furrowed, and his lips part as he went — and hesitated — to say something. "What do you mean?"

"I'm difficult." Your voice is impossibly small, and it breaks a crack in his heart as his eyes soften. 

"No. You're not," he reassured. 

"Yes I am," you breathed out — and then the tears came back. "I get sad and then I stop responding and stop seeing you, and you don't get any warning even though I know you should, and I feel so awful every time but then that makes me feel worse. And I'm sad all the fucking time, Spencer. I mean, I get upset when you aren't at home and you have to deal with all those messages and calls even though you hate texting, but then you get home and I'm isolating myself because I'm sad, on top of all the other things that make me sad, and you deserve better. You deserve someone who can give you their all and—and—"

"Hey," he cut you off, as did the sob that was ripped from your throat. "No. That's not what we're going to do. Do not sit there and tell me what I do and don't deserve." 

"But you do deserve better."

"No," he sighed, resting his forehead on your own, warm breath fanning across your face that usually made you scrunch your face up and pull away, now comforting you. "Do you love me?"

"What? Yes, of course I do. Why would you even—"

"—That is the only requirement I have for you," he said, oh so simply. When you didn't reply, he pressed, "Okay?"

"Okay," you murmured, and he relaxes a little.

More silence fell between you, your tears subsiding and your shaking body relaxing a little more. 

Then, "Did you hurt yourself when you fell down?"

You nodded your head, reluctantly pulling back from him so you could show him. You pointed to a yellowing bruise just below your knee, and the grazes on the bottom halves of your palms. 

"Oh, wow. Look at these," Spencer said, running a thumb gently over the grazes on your hands. "You're braver than me. These would've taken me out."

You laughed, and you saw his face light up at the progress he was making with you, and your mood. 

He then pulled you back into his chest. More silence, but less anxiety, and you sat comfortably in his arms for a few moments longer. 

"Did I worry you?" you say. "Not responding?"

You were so close to him you could hear his breath hitch, and you prepared yourself for a lie about how he wasn't worried at all. Except; "Honestly? Yes."

"Oh."

He exhaled, shakily, and you were kind of glad he couldn't see your sadder expression, half-buried into his chest. 

"You've never gone that long without checking in," he then explained. "The first two days I got what was going on. By the fourth I figured you still needed space. Today I just had a gut feeling."

"Just a gut feeling?" you echoed, and you felt his head nod against your own. 

"Thought you might need someone."

You sighed. "I hate that you're a genius."

"No you don't."

"No, I don't."

His fingers entangled in your hair again. "I also didn't figure you needed me here because I'm a genius."

"No? Then how?" you asked.

"It's simple," he murmured, tugging your head back oh so gently so he could look at you again — puffy eyed, and tear-stained cheeks and all. "I just know."

"That's the most illogical sentence I've ever heard leave your mouth."

He laughed, and you smiled again.

"Come on," he then said, untangling your limbs and pulling the both of you up to your feet, hands ghosting your waist to hold you steady. "I am willing to sit through whatever awful movie you want me to watch."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[wndaswife]

secret santa | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

Your stepmother could not be more happy to have you back home for the holidays. To celebrate, she’s planned a very special surprise for you.

Word count: 9143

Tags | MDNI: smut, fluff, some angst, strap-ons, blowjobs, spanking, cunnilingus, i don’t know the word for usage of a leash and collar, but there is leash and collar usage in this, so i suppose… mild pet play?, mommy kink, praise kink, dom!wanda maximoff

gif credit to vanessacarlysle

Since mid-November, neither you nor Wanda have had very much time to see each other; exams had started for you, and Wanda was working exceptionally hard within the Church Committee to organize the upcoming Christmas events. 

As such, you hadn’t been able to do much but call each other when you could during some evenings and text throughout the day. 

It was a pain, because although calling and texting stayed some burning desire to see each other, it also simultaneously added fuel to the fire, knowing that neither of you were really with the other.

So you were extraordinarily excited to spend the next two whole weeks with Wanda, and she was excited to see you too. While you were packing, you had even been on a call with her as she got ready for bed, making sure you packed all that you needed to and that you were ready for your trip home. 

There was always something so captivating about watching Wanda get ready for bed, whether it was the brushing of her hair or the way she applied her expensive moisturizer and ran her fingers across her face and down her neck, or watching her do it all in her silk slip that revealed so much of her smooth-as-cream skin — really, all you knew was that you couldn’t wait to see her again. 

On the twentieth of December, you came home, and it was your father who came out of the house first and greeted you, asking how you were and taking your bags from the trunk. 

Though you told Wanda practically everything that happened while you were away, there were some things she kept to herself — things that stayed between the two of you. Sometimes you forgot that Wanda didn’t tell Vision everything, for you were surprised, here and there, that he asked about things that you’d already told his wife. 

He did ask Wanda about you, for he knew you seemed much more inclined to speak with your stepmother about your day-to-day life than you were in speaking with him, which was rather natural. 

In these instances, Wanda liked any excuse to talk about you, to gush about how proud she was of you and to share in the excitement of having you back home. 

In fact, with the holidays coming around, the mothers at the Church Committee began to speak more frequently about their children coming home for the holidays too, and Wanda loved when they asked about you. She’d been spending hours upon hours a week planning events with the church, and because Westview was rather small, the church had ties to nearly every city event as well as those for the elementary school, so being able to talk about you during those tiresome hours was especially refreshing. 

“Wanda’s inside just about to finish baking the banana bread,” Vision said as he began advancing up the stairs. “Some of Wanda’s committee friends are joining us for dinner in an hour. I’m not sure if she told you.”

She didn’t tell you about that. 

But no matter; you could deal with a few extra guests, because what mattered now was that you were home and Wanda was in the next room. 

When you entered the kitchen, Wanda’s hair was tied back and she had an apron around her waist — a telltale sign that she had been cooking if not already obvious from the smell of dinner coming from the dining room. She had just put the banana bread in the oven, and she straightened and turned to you. 

She took her oven mitts off and you immediately approached each other with Wanda’s arms outreached and a warm, happy smile on her lips. You wrapped your arms around her waist and hers came around your torso.

You buried your nose in her hair and she kissed your shoulder and up your neck. 

“Y/N…” she muttered into your skin, slowly warming from the cold air outside. One of her hands pushed up the back of your neck and she rubbed the pads of her fingers against the back of your head.

“You smell really good.”

Wanda laughed and she pulled away to hold your face in her hands, rubbing the cold of your cheeks away with her warm thumbs. “It’s because I’ve been cooking for nearly three hours,” she said. 

She looked down at you still in your jacket. “What are you still doing in this, hm?” she asked, letting go of you and unzipping your jacket. She slid it down your arms. “That is no way to greet your stepmother — still in your jacket and all.”

You smiled. “I missed you so much, Wanda,” you said. You leaned forward and kissed her lips. There was flour on the bottom lip. You raised your hand and parted from her lips to brush it away gently. 

With her arms still around your shoulders, Wanda pulled you closer for a deeper kiss, then parted to pepper kisses across your cheek and down your neck. “I missed you too, angel,” she whispered.

The sounds of Vision’s footsteps echoed down the staircase and Wanda straightened and you parted from each other. She began undoing her apron.

“How was the drive, sweetheart?” she asked, rubbing her thumb against your cheek adoringly, then pulling her hand away to untie her apron. 

You and Wanda spoke while you helped clean the kitchen, with her telling you how things led up to her inviting some of her committee friends over for dinner. It felt like it normally did, talking with Wanda over the phone, but this time when you looked over at her, she was really there. 

This time, you could really reach over and touch her, sneak a few kisses, hold her, watch her as she was wiping down the counters and setting the table. 

Gods, how you missed her. 

“You should get changed,” Wanda said, setting down the cloth and undoing her hair. She hooked her fingers around the waistband of her pants and pulled you towards her, turning you so your ass was pressed against the counter and her hips were pressed against yours. 

You flushed and craned your neck to the side to see if perhaps your dad was coming down from upstairs without having been heard — he had said he was going to make a few work calls while he could so he was available throughout the evening. 

With her fingers against your jaw, Wanda turned your head so you were looking at her again. “You’re going to make me jealous,” she whispered low, “giving your attention to anything but me.” She grinned as she watched your cheeks tint in a warm blush. 

“How I’ve missed teasing you, sweetheart.” Wanda wrapped an arm around your hips and trailed her hand down to squeeze your ass. “Tell mommy you miss her teasing,” she pried, sticking out her bottom lip and pleading with her eyes. 

“M-Mommy, I missed your teasing,” you replied with a swallow. Having Wanda talk to you this way was nothing like it was over the phone, and certainly not over text either. You were almost ashamed that you’d nearly forgotten how much of an effect she had on you. 

Wanda seemed delighted, but not only because of your submission, but because it’d been so long since you’d been home with her. Even in visiting you at your place when she could, it wasn’t the same as having you home. It was the warmth and comfort of having you close at home that was special, and knowing you’d be there for a good while, during the mornings and the evenings. 

She kissed the tip of your nose. 

“Would you like to choose what I’m going to wear tonight?” she asked. 

You nodded, incredibly eager.

Wanda’s smile widened and she released you from between her and the counter. She wrapped an arm around your waist and held you close as you walked upstairs together. She rubbed your side with her warm hand while you nuzzled your face against her shoulder. “My little angel missed her mommy this much?”

You turned your whole body around in her arm and hugged her, burying your face in her neck and nodding. 

“Oh, honey…” Wanda whispered, rubbing her hand against your back, her other arm secure around your waist. “I know. I missed you too. I’m so happy that you’re home.”

Now that you were in Wanda’s arms, being held close to her while she comforted you, you were reminded just how much you missed being home. The visits weren’t the same as being home with her. Maybe you were overestimating because of how difficult this semester’s exams had been, but regardless, you were so happy to be with her. 

“Baby, I have a surprise for you,” she said, kissing the side of your head. You raised your head from her shoulder and looked at her curiously. “I booked a hotel for us to stay in for the next two days. I need to get a bit more Christmas shopping done, and I wanted to spend some time with just you.” She explained how she had worded it to Vision. 

You beamed. “Really?” you asked. You could only imagine it — spending some of the snowy season with just Wanda, having your own hotel room to come back to after spending the day together, being with her from the moment you woke up to the moment you fell asleep. 

Wanda pinched your nose and wiggled your head side to side gently. “Yes, really, sweetheart,” she said and let go of you to peck your lips. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

The way your body was practically vibrating told Wanda that you were on the brink of shouting out excitedly and she quickly told you to keep it down because Vision’s office was just down the hall and that he was still taking calls. She kissed you tenderly. “And I have one more surprise for you once we get there,” she told you. “But you’ll have to be a good girl and wait — no hints.”

As promised, Wanda let you pick out her outfit for the dinner, but because Vision had been so close and was likely going to finish up his calls soon, she didn’t allow you to watch her get changed or vice versa; you changed alone in your bedroom and Wanda in hers.

During dinner, you were reminded of the earlier days before you had started seeing your stepmother — watching her from afar, her charming smiles and her warm laughs, her subtle glances at you and how easy it was for her to slip into and start conversations. That is all to say, however, that for the entirety of dinner, you were watching Wanda from afar, interacting very little with her aside from the casual conversion that the typical stepmother and stepdaughter had.

Conversation with her, when had, was affectionate, certainly, but was nothing close to what you wish you could partake in with her after so long of being without her; you could hardly wait to spend all of the next two days together.

In the evening after dinner and while you were getting ready for bed — Wanda’s committee friends insisted they do all the clean-up — Wanda came up to your bedroom after her friends had gone. There was a quiet knock on your bedroom door, and you opened it to Wanda stepping into your bedroom and giving you a kiss.

She closed the bedroom door behind her.

“I know we didn’t get to spend much time together tonight, honey.” She held your face in her hand, stroking your cheek with her thumb gently. You held her other hand with yours. “But for the rest of the holiday, especially during the next two days, I’ll be all yours.” She kissed your forehead tenderly.

She pressed her forehead against yours, meeting your eyes with a soft smile as she uttered a soft, “Goodnight, Y/N. I’m so happy that you’re back home.”

In the morning, you began to stir from your sleep when your bed dipped beneath you. Then you were enveloped in a warmth, one that reached your body through your blankets.

Wanda had an arm wrapped around your torso and she leaned down to you while sitting on the edge of your bed, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Wake up, my angel,” she uttered softly. “Let’s get to packing, so we can leave early and get lunch together.”

“Mommy…” you muttered against your blankets, still half-asleep and slowly rousing from deep sleep.

Wanda couldn’t help but smile at seeing your sleepy face, and she nipped at your earlobe before lifting your blankets and getting under them with you. You initially groaned at the cold until Wanda turned you around and wrapped her arms around you, covering your face and neck in warm, soft kisses.

You whined, “Mommy, I’m sleepy!”

“Aw, you’re sleepy, huh?” she teased. She bit down on her bottom lip and brushed the tip of her nose against yours. Her fingers tugged at the waistline of your pajama pants, pulling you against her hips. “Is my baby sleepy?”

A small smile pulled onto your lips and you tried hiding it in Wanda’s shoulder, but she wouldn’t let you shy away once seeing you all cute and giggly. She let go of your pants and ran her hands up your shirt, her cold palms flat against your warm stomach. 

You couldn’t stop your giggles this time and Wanda chuckled. Her fingertips brushed against the underside of your breasts and you began squirming. 

Then without warning, Wanda groped your breasts with both hands, kneading then softly with her fingers. She watched close as your face contorted, squeezing your eyes shut and repressing a moan as you tried burying your face in her chest.

“Why don’t you lay back, honey, since you’re so tired?” Wanda suggested innocently, then released one of your breasts to push you down onto your back with her hand on your shoulder. She lifted your shirt up without hesitation and exposed your breasts to the cold air. 

She immediately dove down to wrap her lips around one of your nipples, using her hand to tug at the other. Her tongue circled your erect bud, flicking over it lightly as she sucked and eventually parted, giving your nipple a gentle tug between her teeth as she did. Then she moved to the other and did the same. 

“Mommy…” you moaned, trying your best to open your eyes and look down to savour the sight of seeing your stepmother touch you for the first time in a while. You could see her mess of blonde hair between your tits, splayed out a mess against your chest. 

Wanda pressed a kiss to both your breasts then pulled your shirt back down before moving up your body and kissing your lips. “Feeling awake now, doll?”

You rubbed your eyes, slightly lighthearted to have been touched in such a way after having just woken up. You nodded. “Yes. Awake,” you answered. 

“That’s my good girl. Come. Let’s have breakfast before we pack.”

It was only Christmas Eve and onwards that your dad would have his holiday break, so for the next two days, Wanda was really all yours. 

Wanda made you eggs and waffles, and made them just how you liked them too. She knew how tiring and a bit lonely living on your own could be, and she really wanted to pamper you and treat you as all sweet little girls ought to be — and she simply just loved to spoil you. 

You felt so taken care of with Wanda.

Mommy helped you back your things, making sure you didn’t forget anything and offering to carry some of your things in her bags in case yours didn’t fit; she was always taking care of you, always making sure you were loved and attended to. Sometimes you felt like there wasn’t a single thing she did that she did without thinking of you. 

The drive to New York felt like a dream — and quite literally. Often, when you were away from Wanda, you dreamt about things like watching movies together or making dinner or going on a long car ride with her, such things that were rather casual but meant so much. 

In the warm car listening to Christmas tunes while both you and Wanda spoke about an assortment of things, the snow blew wildly past your windows. 

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” Wanda asked, eyes on the road though her right hand came to rub your thigh affectionately. 

You looked over to her, garnering your stepmother’s attention for a split second before she looked back to the road. “I’m just happy to be here with you,” you answered.

You watched as a smile spread onto Wanda’s face.

“Oh, Y/N.” She practically gushed; she even seemed like she was blushing. It wasn’t rare for Wanda to blush with you, but you always really liked when she did. “I’m happy to be here with you too.” She squeezed your knee. 

The hotel Wanda had booked was rather nice, and seemed expensive, though that could’ve been partly attributed to how beautifully decorated it was for the holidays; there was a large lit up and decorated tree at the center of the lobby, as well as lights and hanging holly and ivy, with prop gifts and other decorations placed around lobby, but also throughout the entirety of the hotel. 

“Would you like to go shopping after dinner?” Wanda asked as the two of you set your bags down on the bed in your room. 

You slumped down on the bed, a singular Queen in the center of the room, and ran your arms up and down the expanse of it. “Yes — dinner then shopping,” you answered with a nod. 

Wanda grinned at seeing you laying down so relaxed and she approached you. Walking between your knees, she pushed your shirt up and pressed a kiss to your belly. Then she pulled it back down and stood above you, looking down at you. She rubbed her hands against your sides. 

“Let’s shower first?” she suggested, looking at how sleepy you looked. 

You opened your eyes and smiled. “Yes, please,” you answered. 

In the shower, Wanda lathered your body in soap with her hands then washed your hair, making sure to rinse you thoroughly in the warm shower water.

When it was your turn, she was enjoyably surprised when you chose to massage her shoulders beneath the water, stepping back against you and letting you touch her. More than simply being massaged, she liked just simply being touched by you, and how sweet and gentle you were with her and her body. 

“Y/N, that feels good…” she muttered at one point. Then, “I’ve been so tense the last few weeks. That feels wonderful. Thank you.” You weren’t sure if you were really blushing that hard or if it was the shower’s hot water. 

You loved being able to take care of each other; there was something so special about just being able to lather each other in lotion after showering and talking while drying up and getting dressed. With Wanda, it was so easy, and even the most simple things with her made you feel so warm. 

You always had a place to go with Wanda — a place you belonged.

After dinner, shopping in New York City just a few days before Christmas was rather chaotic, but you found yourself enjoying it all in spite of how busy it was. The snow and the Christmas lights decorating the city and the stores, the bustling people all eager to spend time with their loved ones while wrapped in their warm jackets and hats, and especially, walking hand-in-hand with Wanda made the experience really special. 

Coming back to the hotel, where it was just you and Wanda as it was in the morning and the entirety of the evening, solidified in your mind the idea that it was only you and Wanda that mattered in the whole world. It was only Wanda who needed your focus and attention, and it was only you in the whole world who needed hers. 

You’d have to be heading home in the morning after tomorrow, reintroducing the reality that there was more than just Wanda to think about, but for now, you were entirely comfortable in this temporary truth wherein only she and you mattered. 

If you were comfortable enough, you could almost make yourself believe that you had Wanda all to yourself for the entire holiday. 

“Are you ready for bed, my angel?” Wanda asked as you set down your bags of gifts together. 

“Not yet. Are you?”

Wanda shook her head, taking her jacket off and hanging it in the closet along with yours. “I’d like to show you the last surprise I kept for you,” she said, a mischievous grin forming on her face. “Would you like to see?”

Your stepmother loved when you begged, even when she knew she was already going to give in; she just liked when you asked her for things, so desperate for her attention and permission. 

“Pleeease,” you pleaded, tugging on her hand and making her giggle. 

She immediately gave in, of course. “Okay. Sit on the bed and close your eyes. I’ll have to get it out of my bag.”

You did as you were told, sitting on your bed with your hands folded in between your thighs, your eyes closed. You heard the unzipping of her bag and rustling of her clothes and other things she brought. Then you heard the padding of her feet against the carpet as she approached. 

“You look so cute sitting so polite and patient,” she teased, tapping the tip of her finger against your nose, making your face scrunch up. The bed dipped beside you and you felt Wanda’s thigh press against yours. A box was placed in your lap. “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

On your lap was a light blue box patterned with little snowmen and reindeer, tied with gold ribbon. Wanda kissed your temple and wrapped an arm around your waist, anticipating your reaction. 

Buzzing with anticipation, you opened the box and carefully pulled back the sparkly white tissue paper to reveal a red and white lingerie set, and upon closer inspection, it was Christmas themed.

It was a two piece, with the top appearing to look like a red bow that tied together in the center between your breasts, a little bell hanging from it. It was also rimmed with faux white fur. 

The bottom was coloured with the same red, frilled around the top with one ribbon bows on both sides where your hips would be. At each corner, above the ribbon bows, was an identical ribbon-like strap that went from one front edge, up your hips to wrap around your waist to the adjacent edge where the back of your hip was so the two ribbon straps conjoined just below your bellybutton. 

On the side of the box, there was a headband with two reindeer antlers with a little bell at the base of each of them. 

“Isn’t it cute?” Wanda asked. “Do you like it?”

You put the box over to the side of your hip so as to not drop it so you could quickly turn and wrap your arms around your stepmother’s shoulders. “I love it, mommy!” you cheered. “Thank you, thank you! I can’t wait to wear it for you.”

Wanda laughed and hugged you back. “Oh, I knew you’d love it, angel.” She pecked your cheek repeatedly. “Ever since I bought it, I couldn’t stop thinking of you all wrapped up like a gift, and those adorable reindeer antlers… I must admit, some of the pictures I’ve sent you of myself were when I’d been thinking of you wearing that exact outfit.” 

She pulled away to speak low in your ear. “But, of course, mommy couldn’t tell you exactly what made her so wet when I sent you them. I had to keep it a surprise.”

“Do I get to wear it now, mommy?” you asked, pulling away and placing your hands on her thighs so you could lean close and plead. “Can I wear it for you now?”

“Baby, if I have to wait even another hour before seeing you with that on, I might just go absolutely mad. Please do put it on now.”

You started carefully taking the things out of the box while Wanda also took some of her own things out of her bag. She told you to get dressed and wait for her while she got changed in the washroom. 

Mommy knew you so well; you loved how the lingerie looked on you, and you thought it looked really cute. Your favourite part was the bells and the ribbons. You really looked like a gift all wrapped up. 

You wondered what else mommy planned. 

You sat at the center of the bed like mommy asked, waiting patiently for her to come out from the washroom. 

After a moment, Wanda stepped out in a lacy maroon lingerie set of her own. She had a black harness and a red strap already attached to it hanging from her hand.

Your whole body felt like it began to heat up at the sight of her body and her lingerie and how pretty and soft her skin looked, how beautiful mommy’s curves were, how nice and soft her hair looked, and the strap in her hand that was picked especially for you. 

“Oh, Y/N, look at you!” she said in awe as she looked you up and down, setting the harness on the bed and tugging a bit on your lingerie. “The sweetest Christmas gift I’ve ever gotten. You look adorable all dolled up for mommy.” She leaned down with a grin and kissed your lips.

“Mommy, you look so pretty.” You admired her in awe as she straightened and looked down at you from the side of the bed.

“You’re gonna make me blush, sweetness,” she gushed, taking your chin into her hands and brushing the pad of her thumb against your bottom lip.

She stepped into the harness then turned so you’d be able to have access to where it had to be fastened. “Won’t you fasten it together for me?”

You nodded immediately then got onto your knees and leaned down to fasten her harness. Wanda watched as your back arched and your ass moved up slightly in the air. She felt her clit throb seeing you in your adorable little outfit all focused on helping mommy. 

“That’s a good girl,” she said once you finished. Wanda climbed onto the bed and took a seat beside you. She wrapped an arm around your hips and pulled you close. 

“Why don’t you make me happy and take mommy’s cock in your mouth?” she proposed, brushing her nose against your cheek. “I want to see my pretty girl’s mouth full of mommy’s cock.” 

Excitedly, you moved onto your knees and positioned yourself closer to her hips as Wanda rubbed your back soothingly. 

“Let me take this off of you for just a little,” she said, carefully removing your reindeer ear headband. Its bells jingled slightly as she set it down on the side table. She leaned forward and kissed the top of your head before sitting back against the headboard.

On your knees and leaning down to suck Wanda off with her hand resting on your lower back, you licked up Wanda’s cock, making eye contact with her as she looked down at you affectionately. You broke eye contact to spit down on her tip, before using your hand to gently jerk her off and lather it in your saliva.

With the way your stepmother kept warmly rubbing your back only encouraged you further, and you became rather impatient, excited to take her cock into your mouth. You looked up at her briefly, to which Wanda was still looking down at you attentively with her warm gaze, and you finally wrapped your lips around her cock and carefully bobbed your head down.

“That’s right, honey,” she urged gently, her hand moving up your back to rest against the back of your neck. “Deeper, if you can. I’d like to hear my cock in your pretty throat.”

You uttered something unintelligible as you kept Wanda’s cock in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, each time you went down slowly taking more and more of her into your mouth. 

“Oh, that’s it, sweetheart,” Wanda cooed as your lips finally reached the base of her cock, drool dripping down the sides of your mouth. She listened as you steadied your breaths as you took her cock down your throat. Her hand came to the back of your head, her fingers gently weaving through your hair.

To please her even more, you began moving your head again, and this time, taking her whole cock into your mouth each time you bobbed your head down. 

Wanda audibly moaned when you began softly gagging around her strap, your eyes shutting as tears began forming with the way her cock was entering your throat repeatedly. She never forced your head down, her hand only gently guiding you and massaging the back of your head and playing with your hair, but your desire to please her was so great that you were thoroughly enjoying having your throat fucked by her cock.

Though she wasn’t one for aggressive sex nor was she one for throatfucking, the throbbing of Wanda’s clit as she watched you gag and drool around her cock was too great a pleasure to refrain from jerking her hips up just a little — just to feel a little of the base of the strap rub against her cunt. She shut her eyes when she felt the slightest bit of friction against her clit and Wanda laid her head back against the headboard. 

“Okay, that’s all, baby,” Wanda said, now feeling rather eager to move on and fuck you with how desperate she was feeling now. She leaned forward and cupped your face with her hands, wiping your saliva from around your lips and from your chin. Then she kissed you tenderly, stroking your cheeks with her thumbs. “You did such a good job, my good girl. I love seeing my beautiful angel trying her very best to make mommy happy.”

“Are you happy, mama?” you asked, laying your hands flat on the bed and looking at her curiously. 

“I’m very happy, Y/N,” Wanda answered with a soft smile. “I’m so happy to be here with you.” She turned you around and repositioned the both of you so you were on all fours. “Stay here for a moment.”

Wanda moved over to the side and stepped off of the bed. You heard her rustling around through her bag and then her getting back onto the bed, sitting beside you. You sat back on your heels and looked at what was in her hands. “Honey, I might have lied — I have one more surprise for you.”

In her hands was a pretty red collar with a bell at its center, along with a black leather leash to match. You immediately felt your cheeks flush and your thighs press together; you had never been collared by Wanda before, and the image of her tugging you by a leash excited you immensely.

“Does this look alright to you, sweetheart?” Wanda asked gently, moving to you closer and stroking the back of your hand with her fingers. “I know we’ve never done anything like it before, but I thought it might be cute — treating you like my sweet puppy with a collar and leash. But if it’s too much for you, we don’t have to use it. It’s purely experimental, and I bought it only out of curiosity, so don’t be afraid to tell me no, okay?”

“I want to try it, mama,” you told her honestly, holding the leash in your hands and feeling the soft leather with your fingers. “But not very tight on my neck.”

Wanda kissed your forehead. “Alright. I’ll put it on now, and tell me how you like it.” She undid the collar and wrapped it around your neck. She kept checking in with you as she tightened it, making sure it was just right for how you wanted it. Then she tugged on it with the leash, also making sure it wasn’t too harsh on your neck.

When it was on comfortably, it made you giggle a little because the little bell jingled every time you moved. 

That made Wanda laugh too; she thought you looked so cute. Then she put your reindeer antler headband back on and kissed your forehead.

Wanda was on her knees behind you, and you returned to your position on all fours. With the leash circled around her knuckles, she tugged on it and your neck was pulled back slightly. “How does that feel, honey?” she asked. She tugged again, a bit harder this time, so you knew exactly how rough it could feel in the case that you might want to change your mind.

You squeezed your thighs together and repressed a moan. 

God, how could you describe how it felt to have Wanda pull you by a leash? You couldn’t think of anything sexier than being on all fours in a cute outfit she chose for you, fucking you with her cock and tugging you by a leash while you were wearing a collar she also chose specially for you. “That feels good, mama,” you replied, hanging your head and whimpering.

“Does it now?” Intrigued by your response, Wanda tugged harder, watching closely for your reaction as she pulled you all the way up so your back was pressed against her body. Her hand came to your neck and you whimpered. “That feels good, hm?” she asked with a smirk, her lips ghosting over your collar and up to your ear. 

You squeezed your eyes shut and swallowed. “Th-That does feel good, mama…” you replied.

“Remember, you can tell me to stop whenever you need, pumpkin. It’s been some time since we’ve had sex, and we’ve never used a collar and leash before,” Wanda reminded you gently. She used her free hand to stroke your hip with her thumb. “Like always, it’s okay to need to take a break to feel the need to stop — even if we’d been having sex regularly, and even if you do enjoy the leash.”

You nodded. “I know, Wanda,” you answered. “Thank you. I know I’m always safe with you.”

Wanda smiled. She craned her head forward over your shoulder and kissed your cheek. “That’s right, angel. Always,” she said. Her hand moved up your back and gently pushed you forward until you were back on all fours. She pushed her hips against your ass and you could feel her strap press against your clothed cunt.

With her leash still wrapped around her knuckles, she placed both hands on your hips and began slowly thrusting her cock against your clothed pussy. The collar and the leash’s tautness wouldn’t let you loll your head forward, and so you were forced to whimper out unabashedly as Wanda’s cock prodded at your clit.

“You look so adorable, honey.” Wanda rubbed her palm in circles against your ass. She delivered a soft spank to your ass and giggled when your body jerked in response. 

Driven by the thrill of seeing her pretty doll all sensitive, Wanda tugged on your leash and spanked you again. She tugged on your leash again in a quick jerking motion to make the bell on your collar jingle.

Wanda pulled her hips back a little and took her cock into her hands, prodding directly at your clothed hole and twitching her hips forward to apply pressure. “You’d come if all I did was keep going like this, wouldn’t you?” she inquired with a terrifying amount of curiosity. 

“I… M-Maybe…” you stuttered. It was true — you were really that sensitive to your stepmother. 

You supposed, paired with the clothed fucking, that she’d only have to utter a few dirty words and deliver a few spanks in order for her to bring you to orgasm. 

With that knowledge of her power over you, there was no telling what kinds of teasing mommy would feel like putting you through. 

“Maybe?” Wanda repeated, clearly still preoccupied with watching the way her strap pressed against your cunt. She slowly slid its tip down and applied pressure to your clit. “Shall we see how fast it takes?”

Your stomach dropped and you immediately protested. “No, mama! Please, I want… inside. I want you, mommy,” you pleaded.

Wanda didn’t respond for a bit of time. She put her hands on your hips and slowly began thrusting her cock against your cunt, watching as it slit down your clothed slit and brushed against your throbbing clit each time her hips moved forward and she pulled your ass back. 

You hung your head as you moaned out softly, but also because you felt some defeat for what seemed like Wanda being determined to get you off with your clothes still on. 

Your leash was tugged back and your head was forced to position itself upright. 

“Where’s my little girl’s enthusiasm now, hm?” Wanda tipped her head to the side to get a look at your expression. “You’ve always been such a sore loser, baby.”

At the sight of your protruding bottom lip, Wanda added, “Oh, don’t pout now, angel.” She rubbed your ass soothingly. “You want mommy to fuck you? Is that what you want?” She leaned forward, her cock slotting itself right in the slit of your cunt and against your clit, and tugged your leash back so she could look at you better. 

“That’s what I want, mama,” you answered obediently. Your stepmother loved when you begged for her. “Please, mommy. Please fuck me.”

With a pleased smile, Wanda used the hand with your leash around her knuckles and pulled your head back by your hair. She leaned forward further and pressed a kiss to your neck and then your shoulder. “I’ll fuck you good,” she obliged, her voice low and vaguely threatening. “Don’t you worry, princess.”

While she rubbed your lower back with her warm palm, Wanda slowly pulled your underwear off. You heard her coo in amusement, “Honey, you’re the first Christmas gift I’ve opened all season.” She pulled it down your thighs and you felt your cunt part from its sticky confines. “And I have to say, I’m rather pleased.”

You felt her move backwards and her hands were placed on both sides of your ass. She ran her tongue through your cunt and audibly moaned, her fingers moving down to your hips and pulling you against her face.

The warmth of her tongue and the coolness of her face against your swollen, desperate pussy felt incredible. You let out a long moan and grasped at the bedsheets. Her tongue explored your soft cunt lips, tracing through your labia and moving gently over your throbbing clit. She dipped into your opening and groaned at the flavor of where you tasted the sweetest. 

Greedily, her lips wrapped around you and sucked, her tongue flattening to taste as much of you as she could. When your moans became breathless and more restrained, Wanda pulled away against her own urges of gluttony, but not before lapping up around your inner thighs and around your cunt. 

“I missed tasting you,” Wanda told you and completely removed your underwear from around your knees and tossed it aside onto the bed. 

“Mommy…” you uttered quietly, feeling your cheeks flush. 

Wanda reached back, where she had placed down a bottle of lube that she’d brought with the harness. She lathered enough onto her cock and laid it down where your panties were. Then she tightened her grip on your leash again. “Are you ready, baby?”

You nodded, nearly about to cry from how pent up you were feeling. “I’m ready.”

With a hand around your cock and the other around your hip to keep you steady, Wanda slipped her tip past your opening then steadily pushed herself inside of you. She watched as your cunt wrapped around her cock, your body jerking forward slightly as you adjusted to her size.

“How often do you masturbate, my love?”

Struggling to reply as you braced the entrance of Wanda’s cock, you uttered, “Only the times when I send you pictures and videos of myself, mama.”

“Only then? You never touch yourself without letting me know?”

“Never.”

“That’s good,” Wanda cooed and rubbed your lower back. From the last time you sent a video of yourself, that meant that the last time you’d touched yourself was about a week and a half ago. She would deep in mind how sensitive you were.

A sigh was released from her as her hips finally met your ass. Her hand rounded your hips and she pressed her fingers against your lower stomach. “Do you feel that, angel?” she asked. “Mommy’s all in now. You did such a good job.”

Tightening her hold on your leash by wrapping it once more around her knuckles, Wanda put both hands on your hips and began pulling you back onto her hips. The tautness of the leash made it so you maintained the arch in your back, and so all your moans and adorable little noises were released out loud so Wanda could hear them. 

“Ah, fuck,” she mumbled. “You’re so adorable, my angel.”

Watching your ass as she pulled you against her hips drove Wanda slightly mad with desire, and she began to thrust her hips forward, your bodies meeting with a greater amount of force. Then Wanda placed a hand on your upper back and pushed you down so you were on your elbows. Her thrusts quickened and Wanda delivered a spank to your ass, making you yelp. 

“Tell mommy how much you love getting your cunt fucked by her cock,” she demanded, tugging on your leash and grinning as she listened to how difficult it was for you to speak with how harshly she was thrusting against your ass.

“Mama, I- ” Your words were cut short when Wanda tugged you by your leash so your face was away from the pillow in front of you and you could speak properly. “I love when mommy fucks me with her cock,” you drolled out between moans. “I’m… mommy’s needy cockslut.”

Your wording awakened something within your stepmother and her fingernails dug into your hips. She slid out of you and turned you around. She repositioned the both of you so she was laying down, one elbow holding herself up. With your leash around her knuckles, she tugged you forward as if you were a dog so you had to crawl up her legs and up her body.

It made your whole body thrum with a warm heat as you watched how Wanda looked at you, with unabashed hungry desire — and all for you. She placed her hands on your hips and had you sit on her cock, your thighs straddling her hips and your hands on your knees. She smiled at your strained little face as you took her thick cock into you again.

“I would like to see you without this now.” Wanda reached up and you leaned forward to allow her to reach your torso. She undid your bra and wrapped her arms around your waist, bringing you forward to allow her to wrap her lips around one of your nipples. 

Her warm hands moved up the smooth curve of your back as she kissed your breasts and then up to your neck. She straightened you back up and sat herself up so she could reach back and unclip her own bra. 

A hand came to the back of your head and she led you towards her breasts, and you wrapped your lips around one of her nipples. A soft, relieved sigh escaped from your stepmother’s lips and she laid down flat against the bed. 

As you suckled from Wanda, she placed her hands on your hips and began moving you up and down along her cock, guiding you into riding her. Your warm exhales warmed her breasts and hardened her nipples and she brought you closer. “Always so gentle with mommy,” she said and kissed the top of your head.

Gently, she straightened you up again and made you part from her breasts. “I want to see you ride, Y/N,” she told you and placed her hands on your hips. “Come on, baby. Make mommy happy. Let me see my little girl come.” She let go of your leash and let you ride her freely, at times pulling you down onto her hips harshly when she wanted to see you yelp — which she quite frequently did.

“That’s right,” she encouraged. Her eyes shut in pleasure as the rolling of your hips ground the base of Wanda’s strap against her clit. When shopping for which toys to use with you, Wanda had been curious about a different kind of harness that was positioned a bit lower than what was typical, so it allowed for more stimulation against the wearer’s clit. She was rather pleased with how well it was working for her.

Her hands worked at keeping your hips rolling forward, and even you seemed to be reaching closer and closer to orgasm, resulting in your speed quickening and with greater force as you came back down and met her hips.

“M-Mama…” you moaned out. “I’m gonna come.”

“It’s alright, baby,” she permitted. “Come for mommy. Let me see my good girl. Come here.” She moved her hands up your sides and wrapped her arms around your waist as she pulled you down and rolled on top of you. Her hand cupped the side of your face and she thrusted into you as you laid on your back, your thighs tightening around her. 

Wanda’s forehead laid against yours as she moaned, her hips thrusting in a slightly upwards movement as well as forward so she was able to rub herself against the base of her strap. You watched with your eyes half-open as mommy seemed to inch closer to her own orgasm. 

Your arms wrapped around her waist and Wanda grasped as the side of your ass, pulling you up against her desperately as she sought the pleasure of fucking you at the same time as grinding her sensitive clit against her strap. Her hips quickened and your moans meshed together in time with the slapping of skin below your sweaty bodies.

Naturally, with how sensitive she had built you up to be from the moment she began, you came first. Wanda raised her head to watch as you came for her, and she stroked your cheekbone with her thumb supportively, whispering out gently, “That’s right, honey. Come for mommy. Let it all out. I’m here.”

Wanda came second, just in time before her thrusting would have become overstimulating for you. She buried her face in your neck and you wrapped your arms around her warm body. Her shampoo smelled so good, and the way she moaned against your skin sent her warm breath down your clavicle and brushed her soft lips against your neck.

You loved when mommy came like this — all close to you so you could hug her and make her feel cared for just like she always did for you.

“Mommy, are you okay?” you asked when Wanda came down from her climax and was gently panting against your neck. You felt her nod and she tightened her arm’s hold around your waist.

“I’m feeling perfectly fine, my angel.” She pressed kisses to your jawline and up to the lobe of your ear as she slipped from your body and brought you against her body. “I feel happy.”

With her other hand, she undid her harness and lifted her hip from the bed so she could slip it off of her body and place it where the rest of your lingerie and the bottle of lube were laying. Then, she took your headband off and your collar too.

When the two of you had been cuddling together laying together, warm under the bed’s blankets and talking about how much you’d been enjoying your time together so far, you lifted yourself onto your elbow. “Wanda, I brought a gift for you,” you said, proudly and with a smile. “I want you to open it early, while it’s just the two of us.”

Wanda smiled at you and ran her hand up and down your side. “Do you? Shall I close my eyes while you get it?”

You nodded and Wanda smirked at how adorable you looked when you were excited. Then she closed her eyes and sat up a bit against the pillow and the headboard, the blankets wrapped around her body comfortably. 

She listened as you stepped off of the bed and went through your bag. She heard the crinkling of some wrapping paper as you took the gift from your back and lept back into bed, making Wanda laugh as you hurriedly tucked yourself back under the sheets with her — but she kept her eyes closed like she promised. 

“Okay, open your eyes now,” you said and laid the gift down in her lap. 

The wrapped gift was a rectangular shape wrapped in light pink wrapping paper patterned with gingerbread houses and tiny gingerbread men, with a glittering silver bow wrapped around the gift. Beneath it, was a thin cardboard gift tag that wrote: ‘For Wanda.’

Wanda smiled warmly at the sight of it, and she smiled and scooted herself close to you so your bodies were pressed against each other. She rested her head on your shoulder and began opening the gift. 

What was beneath the wrapping paper was revealed to be a book, and when Wanda fully opened it to see what it was, she felt herself melt completely. “Y/N…” she whispered quietly, running her eyes down the details of the book’s cover and its perfect preservation. 

“It’s a first edition copy,” you told her, carefully opening the cover and pointing to the print date of 1950. 

Many months ago, Wanda told you of how she often had to move around with her family, often displaced by the war in Sokovia, and unable to secure permanent housing due to her family’s financial situation. During the many moves, her family was often forced to leave a majority of their things behind, especially once they found a route to America. 

One of the things Wanda had lost was her copy of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, her very favorite book during her childhood. At home, she had a small statue on the living room bookshelf of a lion that reminded her of the book, but other than that, she’d never bought herself another copy.

It wouldn’t be the same, she told you, if she bought the book for herself in order to replace the old one, for it had been a gift from her late parents when she was young. 

“Y/N, thank you,” she said, setting the book down on her lap and wrapping her arms around you, hugging you tightly. “You really have no idea how much this means to me. This is such a special gift.” She sounded tearful as she spoke against the side of your head. 

“I love you, Wanda.”

She pulled away and quickly swiped at her eyes to kiss you. “I love you so much, Y/N,” she spoke against your lips and kissed you again, and again against your cheek and then against your temple and your forehead. “I love you so, so much.”

It’d been so long since Wanda immigrated to America. Her parents had passed years ago and though she often spoke with Pietro, she saw him most commonly during the holidays and sometimes during the summers. As such, sometimes Wanda forgot parts of even her own life — parts of herself. 

It wasn’t at all that she forgot about her childhood and her life before America, but more so that as life went on and as she grew and aged, she thought less and less about such things in the past.

She cried after she received the gift while you comforted her, and she told you how much she missed her parents and how she felt guilty for not having thought of them and Sokovia for some time. 

“Can you read the book to me, Wanda?” you asked once Wanda had stopped crying, but was still laying her head against your chest. She looked at you and smiled when you met her eyes in affirmation.

For the rest of the night, you laid in bed with Wanda, your head on her shoulder as she read the book to you. She had only ever read it in Sokovian, and she kept mentioning things about the English translation and how it was interesting how things were worded differently between the two languages. She recalled memories of her family and of Sokovia as she went through the chapters — when her parents had read the book to her and how she would be read to while laying in bed with Pietro before bed, and anything else that came to mind as she spoke of her childhood and her family. 

You could tell how happy it made her to recall all those things, and also, how happy it made her that she was reading the book to you. 

There was something really special about recalling and reawakening such memories with you; it was true that she couldn’t ever revisit the past nor speak with her parents again, but it was something rather special to share all of this with you. She couldn’t get it back, but she could keep it all alive, and that could truly only be done if shared with someone she loved. 

With the gentle flakes of snow falling outside the hotel window, illuminated by the warm light of the nightstand by the bed and contrasted by the dark moonlit skies of the evening, Wanda spent that night sharing with you what she shared with no one else — what she would never share with anyone else. 

To share such precious memories with you was to make them all eternal. It could only be you, after all. 

Wanda had forgotten important parts of herself, only to find them within you. Love has a unique ability to do that — giving you a map of yourself, and a home within another.

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter One. Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Thèos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: Sub/Dom, Toxic Behaviour, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Blackmail, Praise Kink, Begging, DubCon, CNC.

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

You were a good girl, and an exemplary student. One who consistently demonstrated exceptional discipline and commitment. Your dedication to academics was unwavering, as you diligently followed the rules and guidelines, never straying from the prescribed path.

Your singular focus was on nurturing your intellectual curiosity, and you showed no interest in indulging in activities that might distract you from your educational pursuits. Your life was calm, quiet, and focused.

Until, one day everything fucking changed.

———

In the enchanted realm of Hogwarts, there resided a studious and exceptionally bright seventh-year Ravenclaw witch, known for her unwavering dedication to academics and her steadfast commitment to the noble pursuit of knowledge. This young sorceress, a paragon of virtue, refrained from the temptations that often lured her peers, steering clear of parties, alcohol, and the haze of smoke that veiled the Ravenclaw common room during clandestine gatherings.

Her life was meticulously ordered, her goals sharply defined. But the universe had a curious sense of humor, for it threw her into an unexpected affiliation with the most notorious bad boy in Slytherin:

Mattheo fucking Riddle.

He, the embodiment of rebellion, was a stark contrast to her pristine existence. Mattheo's reputation preceded him: a Slytherin troublemaker, one who was almost always found in the midst of chaos. His devil-may-care attitude was a challenge to authority, and there was not one singular individual that could tie him down.

Yet, fate had woven their paths together, forcing the astute young witch to confront the complexity of human nature, unraveling layers of his defiance while simultaneously testing the boundaries of her own steadfast resolve.

And that witch; that poor fucking witch--well, that was you.

———

"Please, Riddle...if you'd take a seat," you ran your tongue along the backside of your teeth, straightening your posture in your chair as you tried to contain your irritation. "...I must express my desire to commence our endeavors prior to the conclusion of the academic term."

"Eager, are we?" Mattheo sneered, sauntering toward the desk painfully fucking slow. "You know, Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither is mastery. I'll sit when I'm fuckin' ready to sit."

His voice was low, the sadistic drawl of his tone making your bones ignite with fury. Gods, he certainly fucking loved testing you.

"And I won't tell you again...call me Mattheo."

You inhaled a sharp breath, flattening out your blue uniform skirt against your thighs as you bit your tongue hard enough to make it bleed.

"Rome may not have been built in a day, but it certainly collapsed in one--now, I won't ask again, Riddle..." you looked up, meeting his dark obsidian eyes, fighting back a sadistic smirk of your own as he narrowed his gaze in challenge. "Take. A. Seat."

The words were clipped behind your teeth with an obvious urgency that shut Mattheo up for a few seconds, the gears turning inside his head as he contemplated how he could one up your little jab--a constant occurrence that seemed to happen every single fucking time you met with him.

At this point, your tutor sessions were an easy seventy percent bickering with the remaining thirty being a half-assed session of one-sided discussion where he mostly offers you fleeting blank stares while zoning you out. You hated that you'd agreed to this, but you knew you needed to get on (and remain on) Professor Dumbledores good side if you wanted a career here at the school after you graduated--and you were so fucking hungry for it you'd do almost anything to solidify your fate.

Even if it meant surrendering your sanity to the hands of Mattheo fucking Riddle.

You chose not to let him, of all individuals, tarnish your path. Your reputation, fragile as it may have been, resembled a tinderbox, and he was the combustible element, ready to erupt at any given moment. This resolve became your steadfast anchor, shaping the direction of your choices.

"You know," Mattheo said as he finally slumped down into the chair across from you, his tousled brown hair falling effortlessly over his forehead. "I was under the impression that the brilliant Ravenclaws such as yourself valued intellect over impulsive haste..." he tilted his head, his gaze scanning every movement of your body as you stared at him. "It was my understanding that impatience was more of a Gryffindor trait."

Your fingers trembled with palpable irritation, yet you understood the imperative need to suppress it. You couldn't afford to reveal just how deeply he affected you, realizing that acknowledging it would subject you to endless taunts and jibes, a fate you were determined to avoid at any cost. This restraint became your shield in moments such as these.

"You wish to discuss house values, Riddle?" You tilted your head, straightening out your posture once again. "Because I, in complete honesty, was under the impression that Slytherins were known for their resourcefulness...your reluctance to cooperate suggests a rather curious lack of ambition."

Mattheo narrowed his eyes, his expression growing icier. "Resourcefulness doesn't mean blindly following every stupid instruction thrown at you, and ambition means choosing the battles worth fighting, not wasting time on pathetic, trivial matters."

With a subtle smirk, he leaned back, hooking his arm on the back of his chair as he eyed your discomfort--seemingly undisturbed by your challenge--and you chewed on the inside of your cheek, somehow knowing he wasn't finished.

And of course, he wasn't. "If you really believe this seemingly-stubborn insistence on when or if I sit reflects a lack of ambition, you clearly misunderstand the depths of Slytherin cunning. We pick our battles wisely, and right now, this isn't one of them."

Your blood pressure surged, the crimson currents in your veins reaching their boiling point. Months of enduring relentless bickering and one-upmanship had pushed you to the edge--this man may be an utter degenerate but he certainly knows how to use his mouth when it matters. You could no longer bear the weight of this incessant game, and in a fleeting moment of frustration, you finally succumbed to the pressure.

You knew this was your breaking point.

"I'm just trying to fucking help you." You said, before you even realized you had. You hardly ever cussed, never out loud--that is. "If you don't want to be here, then get out. I promise you, you won't be hurting my feelings if you do."

He huffed, leaning forward and crossing his hands together on top of the desk as he wet his stupidly plush lips, a devilish grin swallowing his cheeks while he revelled in the fact he'd so clearly fucking won. Yet again.

"No," he said. "I don't think I will."

You clucked your tongue, irritated even further at his response, gaze narrowing ever-so-slightly before you rolled your eyes--brushing off his suffocating arrogance and pulling your textbook out of your bag, slamming it down on top of the desk between your bodies.

"The Grimoire of Arcane Relics?" Mattheo read the title out loud, voice laced with a confused, almost offended undertone. "We don't cover this until the middle of second term..."

You cocked an eyebrow. "And?"

"Seems a bit...hasty, to shove this down my throat so early on," his voice carried a sadistic drawl that nearly made you leap across the desk and choke him unconscious. This man knew how to fucking test you. "Would it not be far more beneficial to proceed in the order the books are taught?"

You drew in another swift breath, the fabric of your navy robes clinging to your form, trembling fingers smoothing out any wrinkles on your button-up blouse as you adjusted it.

"I was unaware..." you said, not bothering to look up. "...that the individual I'd be tutoring this term was in fact a professor, and not a seventh year student..." you glimpsed him now, offering him merely but a slight tilt of your head as you watched his jaw tense. "...I must have been ill-informed, do pardon my ignorance."

"A moment of self-awareness? What a fucking breakthrough for you, Raven...pity it took you so long." He was clasping his hands together on top of the desk with enough force to involuntarily crack his knuckles. "Maybe there's hope for you yet, though I wouldn't hold my fucking breath."

"Please don't," you said, teeth gritting. "We wouldn't want to deprive your already-oxygen-starved brain of any more, now would we? It needs all the help it can get."

Mattheo's gaze sharpened, his lips curving into a teasing smirk, highlighting the scars that adorned them. The effect he had on you was undeniable, a sensation you longed to dismiss more than anything. However, with every passing moment in his presence, resisting the pull of attraction became an increasingly futile endeavour--yes, he was suffocatingly arrogant, but Gods, he was fucking attractive.

And he knew it.

"Quite the fucking mouth on you, I'll admit..." he dropped his voice to a low whisper, so deep it practically rattled your bones as it vibrated through you. "Never met a Ravenclaw with such an attitude problem...maybe I could tutor you on how to fix that issue, once we're done here, of course."

Your stomach twisted, heat spreading through your veins like wildfire. Curse him and his painstakingly arrogant charm. Curse him to bloody hell.

"It'd be a cold day in hell before I take any sort of guidance from you, Riddle..." you whispered, your voice accidentally reverberating as a seductive pitch. "And even then, I'd probably still refrain."

"You don't know when to shut the fuck up, do you?..." his eyes darkened, an evil mischief crawling its way through his irises. "What would daddy Dumbledore think about the way you're speaking to me, huh?"

Your heart stalled. "I-"

Your words faltered as Mattheo stood up, moving leisurely like a predatory creature circling its prey, until he was right beside you. His eyes, sharp as daggers, bored into your skull, and he loomed over you, a sadistic smirk twisting his lips into a cruel curve. The sight sent a shiver down your spine, knotting your stomach with an unsettling mix of fear and desire.

He placed a singular hand on your desk, leaning down closer to your level. "Perhaps I pay him a little visit...perhaps I tell him that you've been missing lessons, that you've been extremely unprofessional...perhaps I somehow fail my next exam...perhaps-"

"Okay, okay!" You panicked, cutting him off. "You've made your point, Riddle...I'm sorry, okay?" The words were fucking painful as you forced them past your teeth, and you swallowed your ego, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Let's just get this over with, please?"

Mattheo huffed, gratified by how effortlessly his threats appeared to compel your submission. The gears turned in his head as he grasped the extent of the power he truly wielded over you. He fully understood that your entire post-graduate career almost certainly depended on his decisions, and he was eagerly anticipating taking action.

"I like the way you say please..." his voice was breathless, his dark eyes consumed by something you couldn't really identify as he slumped down in the chair directly next to you, his sight never once leaving yours. "Do it again."

Your body tensed, immobilized as he inched closer, his penetrating eyes scrutinizing your features with intense focus. It was no secret that Mattheo had been oblivious to your existence until he was placed under your guidance--despite being the most popular Slytherin student in the school, you, a practically invisible Ravenclaw, were easy to overlook. It had taken him over three weeks to even remember your name, a fact he never bothered to acknowledge, let alone use.

But within that time frame, within the time you'd been tutoring him; as much as he drove you mentally fucking insane, you couldn't deny that every time he'd show up for lessons with torn knuckles, cut lips and alcohol radiating from his breath--you couldn't help but to feel something in the pit of your stomach.

Whether that sensation was disgust, arousal, or sheer terror, you couldn't quite pinpoint. It was a feeling that whispered in your veins, urging you to surrender to the dominance he held over you. It screamed for you to let him have his way without resistance, because just as he commanded your obedience, he wielded the same control over the entire damn school. The prospect of defying him felt like a dangerous game you weren't willing to play.

"Riddle-"

He tilted his head, his face dangerously close to yours now, his eyes peering into your soul as he stared. As he wet his lips, his breath turning shallow, you felt a feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach, and one between your thighs as well.

"I said, do it again." His voice was a mere breath as it left his lips, his eyes studying you as though you were a page of a textbook. Not that he'd ever read one of those. "Go on, Raven...beg for me..."

Your breath hitched, and you involuntarily clutched the edges of the wooden chair between your fingers with an indescribable force. You didn't want to admit it--not to Mattheo, not to anyone really--but you were a virgin. You'd never even kissed a boy; your entire life was devoted to your studies...so this...this was extremely fucking new to you.

When you remained silent, Mattheo's eyes darkened even further, turning a shade of obsidian so intense they put even the stormiest midnight skies to shame.

"You want me to keep your perfect little reputation intact, hm?" He breathed, leaning closer. "You want me to help you stay on Dumbledores good side?"

Your throat was more arid than the desert, and you nodded, unable to blink--unable to peel your fucking eyes off of him.

"Then do as I say..." he murmured, a large battered hand finding purchase on your thigh, your entire body involuntarily flinching at the foreign contact. "I want to hear you, Raven."

You stared down at his hand resting lazily over the fabric of your blue uniform skirt--it's massive size swallowing up almost the entirety of your thigh, calloused palm catching on the pleats as it slid upwards, agonizingly slowly--and when he paused, stretching his fingers around the diameter of your thigh the best he could, fingers digging into your flesh as he squeezed; you gasped, involuntarily, and he huffed--bringing his lips dangerously close to your ear.

"One more chance..." he purred, and you could practically hear the smirk on his lips. "You won't like what'll happen-"

"Please!" You snapped, squeezing your thighs together out of pure desperation. "Please, Mattheo...please, let's just get this over with..."

"Mm." He hummed in satisfaction, slowly pulling his hand off of you. "That's fucking right..." he murmured, warm breath tickling your ear. "Nothing is sweeter than your submission, Raven."

You swallowed, not daring to look at him, nodding your head frantically in response as he pulled away, slumping back in the chair--not once peeling his eyes off of you, spreading his legs way-too-fucking wide as he made himself comfortable--he was silent, now, watching your chest rise and fall with each shallow breath, watching the way you squirmed in your chair at his sudden dominance--a dominance that had an effect on you that you couldn't even begin to describe.

And then, before you could even realize what was happening, Mattheo leaned back in, his fingers gripping your jaw and tilting your face towards his--and as you meet his dark, intoxicating eyes, your lungs stalled, entire body shrinking in your seat as he stared at you with such intensity that you felt like he could see right through you.

"From now on, I'm in charge here," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "Understand?"

You swallowed the lump of anxiety in your throat, and watched his darkened amber eyes as they glanced over your lips, lingering there for far too long, before returning back up to meet your gaze--something swimming in his irises that made your stomach twist.

When you were silent, he tilted his head, cocking an eyebrow. "Use your words, Raven..."

"Yes." You squeaked, voice barely audible. "I understand."

He hummed, a devilish smirk crawling across his lips, fingers digging into your jaw with added pressure as he pulled you closer, lips so close you'd touch with a deep enough breath.

"Understand, what?" He breathed, eyes dipping over your lips yet again. "Say my fucking name."

"Mattheo..." you couldn't breathe, couldn't move, could only obey his words as though he was controlling you like a puppet on strings. "I understand, Mattheo."

He huffed, smirking. "Good girl, Raven..." his voice was a mere breath as it left his lips, his full lashes fluttering as he blinked, meeting your eyes. "You learn so quickly...I should have done this months ago..."

When he pulled back, slowly releasing you, air slowly returned to your lungs; not enough to rid the dizziness from your brain but just enough to keep you conscious. Mattheo turned toward the desk now, as though nothing even happened, gesturing for you to start the lesson.

And somehow, you did.

—————-

Chapter two->

[killerlookz]

Heartbeat | Joost Klein

description: Joost Klein x f! reader- In the months following reader and Joost's breakup, neither of you seem to be able to get rid of each other, not even when you've supposedly "moved on" to other people. (heavily inspired by the narrative in Heartbeat by Childish Gambino)

content: 18+ NSFW, cheating, toxic relationships, arguing, angst, some comfort?cigarettes, alcohol, questionable morals, just some mess mess messy stuff, semi-public "suggestive" behavior, fingering, unprotected PiV. This work contains RPF, and has been tagged as such do not click forward if that upsets you and do not share my work to other sites.

word count: 7634

An unlit cigarette hangs from your sticky, freshly glossed lips, your hands racing to tie the slippery satin ties of your dressing robe. A knock at the door draws you from where you stand in front of your bathroom to the front door. You flip over the locks before carefully turning the doorknob to open it.

A tiny smile forms on your lips as the door opens, revealing your boyfriend, staring down at you. Michael, a man nearly a decade your senior, eight and a half years older than you to be exact, a handsome business-type man who had moved to the Netherlands for work from the States, Boston specifically, though, he didn't have the accent. The pair of you had been casually dating for nearly four months now, though, you could sense that at any moment he'd ask to take things in a more serious direction.

You quickly remove the cigarette from your lips, balancing it between two fingers as you speak,

"Hi!" Your voice expressing greater enthusiasm than you were actually feeling, "You're early." You grit your teeth through the grin that spreads across your face, "I thought you weren't supposed to be coming for another hour."

"Good to see you too," He smiles back, but you can sense a hint of patronization in his words, "I figured, it was already getting kind of late, and I didn't see a problem with heading out a little early. I texted you anyways, but you never responded."

You nod, remembering that you had purposefully left your phone in the kitchen to rid yourself of any distractions while you were getting ready. While you suppose it was nice of him to let you know he'd becoming early, it would have been nicer if he asked first instead of just doing.

"Getting late," You force a fake chuckle, one that turns out more like a scoff, "The sun has barely set, who wants to go to the bar when it's still light outside?"

"Not everyone enjoys staying out until the crack of dawn." He raises his eyebrows, his voice serious in a way that makes you uneasy.

"It's Saturday!" You beam, "Come on, let loose a little." Michael wasn't exactly the party type- at least not now, it had taken a whole lot of convincing to even get him to go out with you and your friends tonight. "We're still going to have to wait anyways," you shrug, opening the door wider to allow him inside, "Julia won't be here for at least an hour, but you know her and being on time." You giggle awkwardly, unsure of what the two of you would do to fill the time while you finished getting ready.

"Right," He shakes his head before his brows furrow, "What's all over your face?"

Your facial expression contorts, confused, "Uh- makeup?"

"Oh pumpkin," He sighs, his voice like saccharin, exceptionally sweet and unimaginably fake. The pet name makes your stomach curdle, and you attempt to press a smile to your lips to hide the way you cringe, "I thought we talked about how I prefer to see you naturally."

You giggle, stunned at the fact he was bringing up this argument again, one you had had far too many times for how short of a while you had been seeing each other, "And I thought we talked about how much I hate it when you call me pumpkin."

"I just don't think you look any better with all that shit on your face, is it wrong of me to think that my girlfriend is beautiful?" There's an argumentative tone in the way he speaks, but you can't even focus on the potential fight that is brewing, not when the word girlfriend is ringing in your ears.

"No," You sigh, not wanting to argue not now, all the energy being knocked out of you with that simple word, "Do you want something to drink while I finish getting ready?"

"Yeah," He lets out a breath, slightly annoyed, "Yeah- sure what do you have?" He lets his tone return back to normal.

"Depends," You step backward, away from the man, towards the small kitchen of your apartment "Do you want something alcoholic or..." You trail off, stepping all the way into the kitchen.

Michael's eyes linger on you as he scratches at the back of his neck, "That's fine." He shakes his head, "Just get me a beer or something."

You nod, opening up the fridge, scowering around, unsure if you even had a beer in there. After pushing some things around, you'd found a singular bottle, you push your arm further into the cold to grab it.

You retreat back to the warmth of the rest of your kitchen, beer bottle in hand, as you kick it closed, both hands now preoccupied as the unlit cigarette still rests between your fingers. Wordlessly, you place the bottle on the kitchen counter in front of where Michael is now sitting before stepping back to search for a bottle opener.

From the corner of your eye you can see your phone light up, resting right where you had left it on the counter before you had begun to get ready. Thinking perhaps Julia was letting you know she was on her way or even worse that she was here now, you quickly shuffle over to it

Upon looking down at the screen you quickly realize it is not Julia who had texted you or any of your other friends who you had intended on seeing tonight.

Joost: It's been a while, what are you doing tonight? Come over?

The simple messages nearly make you choke on your breath as your eyes quickly flick up toward Michael. Joost was just about Michael's complete opposite- he was something exciting, the type of person where you could never guess their next move, no routine, no planning, no nothing- just go go go. Perhaps that discrepancy could be attributed to the fact that, unlike Michael, Joost had only been older than you by a year, his 24th birthday approaching in the fall. Still, even at Joost's age, you couldn't imagine Michael being much fun.

Unfortunately for you, you had let yourself indulge in the excitement that Joost brought to your life in entirely self-destructive ways. Joost had been one of the first people you had met when you moved to the Netherlands, and things moved quick between the two of you, from the moment you met it had felt like you had known him your whole life. Within a few months of living in a brand new country, you had already found yourself with a boyfriend, having rushed way too quickly into a relationship with Joost, and you quickly learned that no matter how much it had felt like you two had known each other your whole lives, the truth was you didn't really know him.

It was a true whirlwind romance, taking your life by storm, every moment consumed by each other. You both had fallen hard and fast. But for as hard as you had fallen, you crashed much harder. Joost was a perfect boyfriend in every area except for the ones that really mattered. It was obvious how completely in love with you he was, he was soft, and romantic, and fucked you in ways that made you feel things you didn't even know were possible.

But for all of his good, for all of his sweet gestures and affection, he couldn't seem to crack the communication thing. At first, you didn't mind when he skirted around the little issues that arose between the two of you, you knew he had things rough growing up and so you gave him grace, figuring opening up to people and dealing with certain emotions was probably difficult for him. But soon enough the "little issues" were not so little, turning into large, glaring problems in your relationship that no matter how hard you had pleaded for him to, Joost would refuse to discuss. Eventually, it had gotten too much, the two of you constantly at each other's throats, and with Joost icing you out whenever things got rough, you had had enough.

Still, you don't get rid of feelings like that so easily, and for the life of you, you could just not stay away from Joost. As hard as you tried to, you had never actually stopped seeing him despite the fact how much things had changed, things weren't quite so sweet and romantic anymore, but to be honest with yourself, if he fucked you good while the two of you were in love, he fucks you 10 times better when you hate each other's guts.

But maybe hate is too strong of a word, oddly enough feeling bad for Joost when you decide you're not going to respond to his text. At some point in the week, you had made the decision that with how imminent a serious relationship with Michael felt, it was probably high time for you to stop hooking up with your ex-boyfriend. It wasn't exactly a decision you were planning on alerting said ex-boyfriend of, no- that made it real, if you were to tell him you never wanted to see him again, it would become real, you were never going to see him again. Ghosting him seemed like the better option, simply leaving things open-ended, it at least allowed for you to change your mind- which you were deadset on not doing.

Michael's voice takes you out of your thoughts, quickly swiping away the message and turning your phone over.

"Hmm?" You hum, looking up, fluttering your eyelashes innocently.

"A bottle opener?" He points to the cap of the drink you had set down in front of him. You throw a smile onto your face, nodding incessantly,

"Right!" You search through a drawer for a bottle opener before pushing it across the counter towards Michael. You continue to ruffle through the crowded junk drawer, looking for a lighter with no such luck. Feeling far too lazy to go rifle through your purse to find one, with the cigarette still in hand you walk over to the stove, turning the burner to its lowest setting, just enough for a small flame to erupt. Carefully, pinching the cigarette by its very end, you quickly stick it in the small flame, allowing it to light.

You shut the burner off, placing the cigarette to your lips, inhaling, allowing your lungs to fill with the warm, prickly smoke.

"Do you really need to do that in here?" Michael asks, his face forming into a scowl, "Or at all."

You turn to the side to exhale, careful not to blow the smoke in Michael's direction no matter how bad you want to.

"Relax," You smile, "The windows are open."

"Are you even allowed to smoke in here?"

"What are you, my landlord?" You furrow your eyebrows, taking another drag, "One cigarette won't get me kicked out."

"Can't say I'm enjoying your little miss attitude act tonight."

You're not in the mood to argue, simply sighing and forcing an apologetic look on your face, though you had felt like there was nothing to apologize for.

"Sorry," You mumble, "Let me just go finish getting ready."

The area that surrounds you is noisy, alive with all that the city's nightlife has to offer, almost overwhelmingly so. You lean against a wall, observing the swarm of people that inhabit the bar.

"You know," Your friend, Julia, pipes up from beside you, "You really shouldn't let him talk to you like that."

You bite at the insides of your cheeks, replaying the conversation shared between you and Michael just before entering the bar.

Stepping out of the car, your skirt had gotten pulled up quite a bit from having been sitting, your underwear almost on display as you climbed out of the backseat.

"Jesus," Michael scolded as he followed you out of the car, "Who are you showing off for?"

"Huh?" You whipped your head around, trying to ascertain if you had actually heard him right.

Michael leans over, his voice rough as he speaks into your ear,

"Pull your fucking skirt down, you look like you should be standing in the windows in De Wallen."

You clench your jaw, eyes flicking to Julia who was walking around the other side of the car, she shakes her head disapprovingly.

"What's so wrong with that? I'm sure the women in De Wallen are lovely ladies."

"I don't care how lovely they might be, I don't want my girlfriend walking around looking like a hooker."

You sigh, you know Julia is right, Michael was out of line, as he usually was. You stare the man down from where he stands by the bar, looking to squeeze in amongst the crowd that surrounds it in to order some drinks. Your face involuntarily twists into a grimace as you watch him pathetically try and fail to get the attention of the bartender. You want to go home.

"I just don't know why you keep him around." She shrugs, "I mean, I know he's got money and all, but I don't think it makes up for the fact that he has got to be the most stuck-up, grumpy man I have ever met in my life- seriously he's thirty, not seventy-five."

"I don't know," You furrow your eyebrows, "I guess he's stable and stuff- or whatever, you know?"

"Michael? Stable? The man that not thirty minutes ago all but called you a prostitute because your skirt got pulled up."

"I mean stable like he has a good job and stuff, he's normal, regimented, life with him has a routine- I think I need that, maybe he'll mellow me out, I don't know."

"Don't be ridiculous, you're far too young to be mellowed out," Julia pouts, "I mean, really, the party is just getting started for you." Julia's eyes suddenly widen, her lips parting as she speaks cautiously, "Speaking of party..."

"What?" Your eyes widen too, confused, you quickly whip your head around to look in the direction she's staring off in, "Shit." You mutter as your eyes meet the door, and there he is, Joost fucking Klein followed by a group of what looked to be about 5 of his friends. You barely manage to inhale, "I need a fucking cigarette."

Without looking back at Julia, you're making your way to the door, praying that neither Joost nor his friends see you on the way out.

The summer air hits you as you step through the exit onto the bustling city street. You wondered how mad everyone would be at you if you decided to leave right now- bail without a word, run home, and spend the night alone.

You grab at the purse that sits over your shoulder, pulling it down your arm so you can rummage through it, looking for your cigarettes and a lighter.

You flip open the cardboard box, removing a single cigarette, putting it between your lips before reaching back into your purse to fetch your lighter.

You flick the jagged metal of the lighter, the grooves digging into your thumb as you light the end of your cigarette. You toss the lighter back into your purse before slinging the bag back over your shoulder.

You're able to get a few drags in before you're interrupted by a voice, one that immediately makes your stomach sink.

"Ignoring me now, are we?" You don't even have to look, you already know- you'd recognize that voice anywhere, it's Joost.

You whip your head to the side, confirming your suspicions, seeing the slender frame of your ex-boyfriend hanging just outside the entrance of the bar.

"Stalking me now, are we?" You respond, hoping the snark in your voice masks everything else you are feeling.

"I'd hardly call showing up to the same bar stalking," He smirks, walking toward you, "But I mean- if you're into that sort of thing we can pretend I was."

You roll your eyes, taking a long drag of your cigarette, hoping for some sort of head rush from the nicotine.

Joost's features come better into focus as he nears closer to you, messy blonde hair spilling over his forehead, falling into his eyes, a piercing blue as he stares into you, a smirk lingering on his soft pink lips.

"Can I get a smoke?" He asks, innocently enough. You want to say no, so desperately you want to tell him to go away, to leave you alone, that you need to start a life without him.

"Oh-yeah, sure." A sheepish smile crosses your face, your words betraying you, unable to force out any sort of rejection towards him.

You let your already lit cigarette rest between your lips, taking your purse off your shoulders again, grabbing the cigarettes and lighter once more. You shove your hand, presenting the objects to Joost for him to take, his fingers carefully grazing the back of your hand as he does, his touch lingering on you for just a little too long as the two of you stare each other down. Shivers run down your spine, and your chest suddenly becomes tight, he was completely gorgeous- damn him.

"You okay?" He raises an eyebrow, a chuckle falling from his lips, he's not really asking sincerely. You can only hum in response, not wanting to say too much. Things were not usually this awkward between the two of you, and you could feel that you were the one causing it.

You watch intently as Joost lights his cigarette before pushing the pack into his pocket, and you make a mental note to yourself to get them back from him before you go back inside.

"So," He starts, exhaling a plume of grey smoke, "My place or yours tonight?"

"I'm going to my place, and you are going to yours." You respond, forcefully, annoyed at his insinuation that you would be sleeping with him tonight.

"Is that so?" He responds challengingly, his eyes lighting up.

"Yes." You nod, having none of his banter, "And-" You cut yourself off, debating if you even want to say what is about to come out of your mouth next. "I think we should stop this. Us, we need to stop."

"I've heard that one before," Joost chuckles.

"I'm being serious." You let your head fall to the side, "I can't keep seeing you."

Joost's face suddenly drops, understanding the weight of your words,

"What changed?" He scoffs, bewildered at your spontaneous proclamation, "Because if I recall correctly, just last week you were begging for me to come over."

"It's not fair to Michael," You shake your head, "I need to move on, we need to move on."

A grimace forms on Joost's face,

"You want to pull the good girlfriend act now?" His eyes widen, "As if cutting things off now will erase the past-what-four months?"

"I don't want to argue with you about this, Joost," You bite your lip, realizing just how unprepared you really were to cut things off with him, "I know I can't erase what happened, but I'd at least like to try to be better." Your lip quivers, and you clench your jaw, eyes fluttering as you fight back tears. You don't want to give him the chance to reply, you know with the right words he'd be able to talk you right back into bed with him, you can't let that happen.

You let your cigarette fall from your fingers, crushing it into the ground with the heel of your shoe.

"I'm sorry," You mutter, refusing to make eye contact with Joost as you brush past him, rushing back inside.

It was a miracle you had stayed out this late with everything that had occurred tonight, but there you were, still standing at the bar as the clock neared midnight, a feigned half-drunk smile pressed to your lips as you stared at Michael.

You tried to ignore the way Joost's eyes burned into you from across the room, but no matter what you did you could feel he was there, ever-present.

"What do you say to another round?" Julia smirks, leaning over the bar.

"Fine by me." You grin, anything to make tonight more bearable.

"Nuh-uh," Michael shakes his head, "You're cut off." He points directly at you, his finger almost in your face.

"What?" You laugh, caught off guard by his sudden controlling-ness

"You, you're cut off, you've had too much."

You furrow your eyebrows, you're not completely coherent, but you're absolutely nowhere near blackout.

"I had four drinks," You continue to giggle awkwardly, "Are you joking?"

His face stays stiff, he's serious.

"I don't think that's really your call to make." A smile lingers on your face as you attempt to keep the conversation light-hearted, but you can feel some sort of anger bubbling inside you.

"It is when I'm the one who's going to have to take care of you."

"It's one more drink, I think I'll be okay."

"Sure, one drink, which turns into two, and then three... you don't know how to control yourself, which is why I'm cutting you off." His voice begins to rise, and your eyes dart around the room anxiously, you hope the noise of the bar can drown out the argument that is brewing.

"I don't know how to control myself?" You scoff, "Is that really what you think of me?"

"You haven't exactly proven me any different, I've seen you, I know how you get on nights out, God forbid I don't want to have to deal with you sloppy and belligerent for the rest of the night." His words become harsher sounding, and more pointed as he continues to speak.

"What do you mean 'how I get'? I barely go out anymore because you don't like it, I would just like to let loose a little for once." You begin to match his tone, unable to hide your growing frustration.

"And you should thank me for that," His eyes narrow, "You don't need to be running around partying every weekend, acting like a complete fucking mess."

You clench your jaw, face forming a scowl, you can't believe the words leaving Michael's mouth right now,

"Don't curse at me." You mutter.

"No, I'll say whatever the fuck I want to, and maybe you should show me some respect for once, and listen."

"Oh!" You respond, a little too loud, drawing a few glances from the people who surround you, "You want to talk about respect? That's rich coming from the man who doesn't seem to respect any of my personal decisions, not the way I do my makeup, or how I dress, or when I want to go out, last time I checked, constantly berating your girlfriend isn't exactly respectful."

"Get a grip, y/n," He rolls his eyes, "Yeah, no shit I don't want my girlfriend parading herself around like some sort of fucking tramp."

It takes everything in you to not escalate things further, to not tell him what you had been doing behind his back, if he thought you were a tramp, oh you could show him tramp.

You inhale deeply, deciding to cut the conversation short before you say something you'll regret,

"I don't need this." You exhale, turn around, and head for the door.

The air is cooler than before when you step outside, now that it is later into the night. Immediately you're pulling your purse down your arm, desperately sifting around for your cigarettes, needing something anything to calm you down. Your mind races as your hand combs through your bag, unable to think straight, your mind foggy from all the arguing and the alcohol.

"Fuck," You mutter, Joost, he had your cigarettes. You run a hand through your hair, pulling at the strands, tonight had been a complete disaster.

"Looking for something." A teasing voice calls, resulting in a groan from you, it was like Joost had a sixth sense for when you thought about him, always showing up as soon as he crossed your mind.

"Can you just give them to me?" Exasperation heavy in your voice, wanting nothing more than to just have a smoke, and go home.

"What happened in there?" He asks, entirely ignoring your question.

"It's nothing," You shake your head, "Can I just have my cigarettes back so I can leave."

"Didn't look like nothing." He continues.

"Well, it was," You snap, your voice getting a little too loud for your own comfort, "I'm fine. Please, Joost just give me th-"

"You don't need to lie," He cuts you off, "You know you can tell me."

"It just," You pause, lifting your head to look Joost in the eyes, "It just doesn't concern you."

"But it concerns you," His voice suddenly much softer, "So I want to know."

A small smile tugs at your lips, despite everything you were feeling, your heart is slightly warmed at Joost's interest in what had happened.

"Stupid argument," You shake your head, looking back down at the ground, "That's all."

"Seems like every time you tell me about Michael it's about an argument you guys have had."

"Well, gloating about how great of a boyfriend I have doesn't exactly make for good conversation when I'm with the person I'm cheating on him with."

"Well, do you? Have a great boyfriend?" He pushes, but the two of you both know the answer. You bite the inside of your cheeks, bringing your gaze back up to Joost, who seems to be standing much closer to you now.

Your breathing starts to tremble under his intense gaze, the smell of his cologne is suddenly strong in your nose, nearly choking you. He's expecting an answer. But you can't give him one, you can't tell Joost that you didn't have a great boyfriend mere hours after telling Joost you didn't want to see him anymore because of said not-great boyfriend.

"Look," He sighs, "I know I wasn't the best, so maybe I can't talk, but Michael is just a straight-up dick."

His bluntness earns a small chuckle from you, he wasn't wrong.

"Well, I haven't exactly been the world's best girlfriend either." You shrug, any problem with Michael seemed incomparable to the fact that at the end of the day, you were the one cheating.

"You were to me." His tone contained a romance that you hadn't heard from him in a long time.

"Joost-" You choke, your eyes widening, unsure of where he was heading with this now. How were you ever going to get over him when he constantly crossed all the wires in your brain.

You feel your body go numb as he slides his hand to your waist, you should stop him, keep your promise, and never see him again- but you can't, and most importantly, you don't want to.

"Look, I'm not insinuating anything, if you don't want to see me anymore, that's okay, you don't owe me anything not after what you put up with, with me, but what I am saying, is you do owe it to yourself, to find someone who treats you better." His words are genuine, heartfelt, and he almost feels like the Joost you once knew, the Joost from when you two had first met.

There's nothing you can say in response, instead, you push yourself up on your toes, letting your lips meet Joost's in a soft kiss. Joost wastes no time in kissing you back, his hand now gripping your waist. Something feels different with this kiss, no looming sense of guilt hovering over you, it feels right like it's what you should be doing.

You part your lips, deepening the kiss, a small groan escaping you as you feel Joost's tongue brush past yours. Your movements become sloppy, lips lazily working against each other, each kiss filled with increasingly more passion.

Stunned, Joost pulls back from the kiss, a smile on his lips, now shiny from your lipgloss, "So," He breathes, "My place or yours?" It was exactly as you had thought, so easily, Joost was able to talk you back into bed with him.

"Mines closer." You shrug, your voice suddenly timid as you reach a thumb to Joost's lips, rubbing the traces of your lipliner off of them.

The car ride home feels like years, as the vehicle crawls down the city streets you figure you have probably gotten the slowest Uber driver in the entirety of Europe.

You sit in the middle seat, your arm brushing against Joost's, the proximity is comforting, but not quite enough, you want nothing more than to be all over him.

You trail a finger to the buckle of Joost's belt, lazily tracing over the letters engraved into the metal, Albino. The sudden remembrance of Joost's proximity to fame, even if only in the Netherlands, draws a smirk on your face as you think about all the horny fangirls who would probably die to be in your position now.

"What are you doing?" Joost asks, his words slow, teasing.

"Nothing," Feigned innocence in your voice as you let your palm rest just below the buckle of his belt. Joost clenches his jaw as you let your hand trail a little lower, pressing into the fabric of his jeans, his already-defined cheekbones poking out even farther with the way his muscles strain.

"You're going to kill me, you know that?" Joost's eyebrows raise, a smile pressed to his lips. He reaches a hand behind your head, first gripping at your hair before relaxing his fingers, soothingly scratching at the back of your head.

A hum of content vibrates through your lips, satisfied at what amount of power you had over him, even if it wasn't much.

You continue to press the heel of your palm against Joost's jeans, feeling the way they tighten as he begins to stiffen beneath you. Joost sucks in a breath, his free hand moving to rest on top of yours, he grips your fingers, pulling you off of him.

"You didn't like that?" You pout.

"Does it look like I didn't like it?" He grits his teeth. Your eyes wander down his figure, focusing on his lap, a now more prominent bulge in his jeans.

The car suddenly comes to a halt, forcing your gaze to the window- you were home, and now you're scrambling out of the car, unable to wait any longer to get your hands on Joost.

Joost pops his head back in the car for just a moment more,

"Dankje, fijne avond!" (Thanks, goodnight) He says quickly to the driver as you pull at his arm from outside the car, impatient. "God, woman," He chuckles, shutting the car door behind him, "I'm here!"

The climb up the three stories to get to your apartment is intermittent with sloppy kisses and lingering touches. As much as you desire to get to the privacy of your apartment, you can't keep yourself off of Joost, your hips pressed into his he has you pushed against a wall surrounding the staircase, his lips trailing down your neck, surely leaving little marks you wouldn't be able to explain away.

You card your hands through his hair, gripping at the messy blonde strands,

"Joost, please," A strained whisper crawls up your throat, your hips sputtering forward, begging for some friction, "My apartment."

Joost drops his hand from where it sits against your waist, grabbing your hand, and pulling you the rest of the way up the steps.

Anxious hands fumble with your keys as you try to push them into the lock of your door, a breath of relief as you hear the satisfying click of the correct key slotting perfectly into the small space.

Before you know it, you're pushed up against the back of the door, Joost's hands pinned on either side of you, caging you in with his body. Your own hands wander Joost's body, pulling at his shirt, gripping tightly to pull him closer as your lips collide. The way you kiss is rough, animalistic like you're completely starved for him.

Joost shoves a thigh between your legs, the rough denim of his jeans now brushing against the crotch of your panties. You can't help yourself, bucking your hips forward to push yourself further against his thigh. A small sigh leaves your lips as your cunt brushes against him, suddenly feeling your arousal, your movements made slippery.

Joost's hands make their way to your hips, his touch lingering as they slide to your thighs, grabbing at the hem of your skirt, and pulling it up. He drops his leg from where it's positioned between your thighs, his large, tattooed hand now cupping your heat. He presses the heel of his palm into your crotch, rubbing harshly through the flimsy fabric of your panties. His movements send jolts of electricity through your body, only making you crave him more as your arousal pools.

His fingertips push at your slit over what little clothes separate the two of you, teasing what you really want.

"Liefje," He smirks, pulling away from the kiss, "So wet for me I can feel it through your panties."

Your face grows hot, slightly ashamed at how quick you had become so aroused. Joost's fingers find themselves brushing at the seams of your underwear, hooking into the fabric ever-so-slightly. Your body grows tense as he teases you, his position making it seem like he's about to pull the delicate lace to the side, but he doesn't, his fingers, unmoving as he kisses at your jaw.

You can't take it, feeling so pent up that you might just explode, you knock Joost's hand from where it sits between your legs, pulling the crotch of your panties to the side yourself before pushing your fingers to your clit. You rub small circles to the delicate nerves, gasps leaving your mouth as pleasure rushes through you. You let your fingers dip lower, collecting your arousal on your fingers as they glide through your folds, towards your aching entrance.

Joost finally clocks what you're doing, his lips leaving your jaw, his hand reaching down to cover yours.

"So impatient," He purrs, his breath hot against your neck, reminding you of your proximity, "Here, let me help you."

With his own hand, Joost guides your fingers up and down your soaked pussy, before completely taking the work over himself, your hand now resting at your side as he continues.

With a single finger, he teases your hole, rubbing around it, threatening to dip his fingers in, you shove your hips forward, silently begging for it. He gets the memo, as much as he loves to feel you squirm below him, he loves pleasuring you so much more.

Before long he's pushing a second finger into you, a groan leaving your lips at the way you stretch around him. His thumb taps at your clit, sending extra pangs of pleasure through your body. You can do nothing but lean your head against the door behind you, lips parted with your jaw slack, in complete awe of how good Joost could make you feel with simply just his fingers. He knew his way around your body even better than you knew yourself, able to draw you to an orgasm much quicker than when you went solo. He knew just where to press, just where to rub to make you whine, and stutter filthy curses.

"What was that about never wanting to see me again?" He coos into your ear, and you pick up an almost wickedness in his voice.

"Fuck you," You sputter, voice strained from the magic his fingers are working against your cunt.

"Yeah," Joost sighs, "I'd bet you'd like to."

He's right, absolutely, completely right, and you're melting below him, turning to mush under his touch.

"Lucky for you, I'd love to fuck you too," He removes his fingers from your cunt, "And I don't think I can wait much longer."

Your pussy is left throbbing, feeling your heavy pulse between your thighs as you clench around nothing, aching from the lack of stimulation. Joost presses two fingers to his lips, shiny from your slick, enveloping them with his mouth, moaning slightly at the taste of you on his tongue.

"So good," He mumbles as he pops his fingers from his mouth, "Now, c'mon." He's grabbing you by your wrist, pulling you to your bedroom.

You nearly stumble onto your bed, leaning face first on the edge of the mattress while your feet still rest on the ground below you, ass up.

Joost stands behind you, his hips pressed into your ass. You whine as his stiff cock brushes against your exposed cunt through the thick denim of his jeans. You can feel the cool metal of his belt buckle press into you as he leans forward, hands trailing up your torso as he kisses your shoulder blades.

You arch your back farther, looking for some friction, desperately trying to grind your cunt against him. Joost's hands linger on your body as he lets you search for some relief, helping you just a little by bucking his hips ever so slightly. He gropes at your tits, hands crawling into your shirt to get a better feel. He pinches the pebbled surface of your hardened nipples, making you squeal, his breath tickles your neck as he chuckles at your reaction.

Soon enough he removes his hands from you, and his hips no longer press into your thighs. You're impatient as you hear the clinging of his belt buckle. your pussy instinctively clenching as the sound meets your ears like you've been trained to know what's next. You hear a small sigh leave Joost's mouth followed by what sounds like him pulling his pants down, the belt once again clinging as it hits the floor. You peek behind you, biting your lip as you marvel at the sight before your eyes, Joost, naked from the waist down, his cock hard, tip throbbing an angry shade of red. He's gripping the bottom of his shirt, exposing the trail of blonde hair that leads to his pubic area. His shirt comes all the way off, leaving him entirely undressed behind you.

"See something you like, hm?" He asks, teasingly, noticing the way you stare at him, bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

You can't even respond, not as he walks closer to you, your brain dizzy with the knowledge of what is about to come next. You return your gaze forward as Joost's hands find their way to your hips, fingertips gripping your flesh. You gasp as you feel the tip of his cock brush against your folds. You have to fight the urge to instinctively push back against him.

Joost continues to grind the shaft of his cock against your cunt, collecting your slick around its length. He pulls back a little, letting the head tease your entrance, about to push in before he stops himself,

"Wait." He breathes, "Turn around."

Slowly, you flip over, back pressed into the mattress while your legs still dangle off the sides. Joost nods, content as he steps between your legs.

"Take your shirt off, let me see those pretty tits." You obey, pulling the top over your head, suddenly very exposed as you had decided to forego a bra tonight. Goosebumps litter your skin as Joost slowly lowers onto his knees, he's quick about his movements, not taking time to linger or tease as he pulls both your skirt and your panties down the length of your legs. You raise your back to help him a little, lowering back onto the mattress once you feel the fabric hit your ankles. You kick off the heels you had been wearing, the pooled fabric following, now leaving you entirely exposed under Joost's lustful gaze.

He stands back up, gripping the backs of your thighs as he does so, guiding your legs up. You wrap your legs around his thighs, and Joost moves closer, his arms pinned on either side of you as his body hovers over your own. The new position allows you to move your legs to be wrapped around his hips, digging your ankles into his back to push him closer to you.

He presses a rough kiss to your jaw, an indicator of how hungry he was for you now.

"Ready for me," He mumbles into your skin.

"Mhm," You hum, "Please."

You can feel him smirk as his lips linger on your skin,

"So polite, anything for you, liefje," He coos, removing one hand from the side of you, balancing the entirety of his upper body weight on one forearm now.

He grips the base of his cock with his now free hand, messily guiding the tip through your folds before lining up with your entrance. He waits a moment before finally pushing into you, he's slow, careful. The two of you share a gasp as he slips inside of you, the way you stretch around him is familiar, but it never gets any less mind-numbing no matter how many times you find yourself in this situation.

Your fingers grip into his bicep as he slowly pushes into you at a painfully slow pace. A strangled groan leaves your mouth as he finally bottoms out. You relinquish some of your grip on his arm, fingers loosening as he begins to build up a steady pace, thrusting inside of you.

You let your head tip, and back arch, completely relaxing your body, allowing yourself to be entirely consumed by the pleasure Joost brought you.

Neither of you speak for a while, the loud moans that escape both of you were doing more than enough talking. For a split moment you feel bad for the neighbors, and you hope they aren't awake to hear you through the thin apartment walls. But, your thoughts are swiftly taken away from your acute guilt as you feel Joost slam into you, harder than before. Your eyes shut tight, a pathetic whimper crawling from your throat as the tip of his cock hits deep inside you.

"Joost," You gasp as his thrusts become more pointed, the bed rocking beneath you.

"Feels good, right?" His voice is rich with cockiness, "No one fucks you as good as I do?"

"No," You exhale, "No one," Your vision begins to blur, as pleasure completely overtakes you.

"That's right," He groans, "No one knows your body like I do."

He's right, and you're sure no one will ever know you in the way he does,

"Fuck," You swallow, "We're never going to be able to stop this, are we?" Your heartbeat increases as you come to the realization of how badly the two of you need each other- no matter how much it disturbs the other facets of your life.

"No," His fingertips dig into the naked flesh of your hips, "We were made for each other." The way he speaks is barely romantic, his low growl rather implying that the two of you were doomed to forever be intertwined in this unfortunate circumstance, the far of you far too flawed to be with anyone but each other.

You can feel your body tensing up, a pressure burning in your abdomen, threatening to explode at any moment. You screw your eyes shut, your face twisting up, all of the emotion of the night smacking into you as your orgasm approaches.

"So close," You wince the hot coil in your lower stomach about to crack.

"Want to feel you make a mess on me," Joost begs from behind a clenched jaw, "Come on," He urges.

It takes a few more thrusts for your orgasm to overtake you, but as it does, it's strong. What could just be about considered a scream passing through your throat as your legs start to shake, your body tingling.

"Love you," You slur, your brain too fuzzy to even be cognisant of the words as they leave your mouth, your subconscious speaking for you.

"Yeah?" Joost asks, his thrusts becoming sporadic, losing pace, "Say it again, tell me how much you love me, schatje."

"I love you," You whine, your entire body twitching as you lose all control over your reflexes, your climax now in charge, "Love you, love you so much." Your words become slower, jaw slacking as your orgasm rolls over you, reaching its final stages, your cunt spasming around Joost.

"I know," He sighs, his lips returning to your jaw. He's able to slip in and out of you much faster now, his cock covered in your release, his thrusts forcing strangled cries from you, "I know," He repeats, "Fucking love you too,"

His hips stutter, and a string of curses are grunted into your neck as Joost's own orgasm approaches.

You inhale sharply as you feel him begin to finish inside you, his cock twitching in your poor overstimulated cunt as the warmth of his release fills you. It's messy, the way he continues to thrust with as much force as he can muster as he rides out his high, cum spilling onto your inner thighs which each thrust, lewd wet sounds filling the air.

Soon enough Joost is collapsed on top of you, his breathing heavy as he tries to collect himself. Your legs drop from hs waist, your entire body lazy.

A certain sense of guilt creeps into you as you realize Michael is right, you have no self-control, unable to give up the feeling that Joost gives you for anything else in the world. You'll forever be chasing the high he gives you, because Joost was right too, you were made for each other.

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.3)

W/C: 3.1k #SFW, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, ABO elements, mentions of death, yuuji has entered the chat, gojo has entered the chat, idky this got sad tho lol

A/N: This bit made me very sad please suffer thank you!!! Also the main story will be wrapping soon (I think next part will be the last part?) and then after that, it'll probably be drabbles! There might be a 'sequel' that touches on the culling games tho because b r u h they've got some down time during that arc so hfhfhfhfhghghf imagine what I could do--

tags: @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @3zae-zae3 @chibiduck @kiiyoooo @lukaijah

A strict no-contact order had been placed on Yuuji, and, subsequently, Sukuna. Neither were to come into contact with you while you recovered, and neither were to be alone with you considering the control-slip incident. 

Still, the curse had been rampant in the young man’s mind, constantly pacing back and forth just behind his consciousness, waiting patiently as a predator should for Yuuji's guard to go down. Granted, even if Yuuji was caught by surprise, it'd still be near impossible to overtake the peppy twenty year-old. Sukuna didn't have an explanation, but it was what it was. 

He would have gladly seized control now, when you'd somehow managed to slip away from your recovery prison and get comfortable in Itadori Yuuji's bed. Sukuna would have slaughtered everyone at the academy for a second to touch you again, to breathe you in.

But the brat finally realized something was off, and woke to find your head tucked under his chin, his arms slung across your waist. Your breath fanned across his collarbone, tickling the sorcerer's touch-starved skin and feeding the fire burning in his cheeks–Sukuna, though, didn’t seem pleased his host was the one touching you. Yuuji counted that as a victory. 

Suck it, dickhead.

Hm? A stranger’s voice rippled instead of the king's. 

Yuuji jolted, his blood growing cold for a second before recognizing that voice–it came from that tidal wave of memories. But it didn't tick him off the way Sukuna's did. It was…nice.

Uh…you can hear me? Yuuji wondered. He tried to envision his voice as loud and clear as possible to help it reach you. 

Your brows twitched in your daze. Yes, I can hear you. There's no need to shout. 

Oh. Sorry. Uh, how'd you get in here? 

The door. 

Oh. Cool. Yuuji shifted a little. I'm not really supposed to, y'know, make contact with you or–

But you're warm. Your nails lightly dragged across his back, leaving trails of tingly pinpricks dancing across his skin. Yuuji swallowed a moan. God, why did the littlest touches feel so nice? 

Y-Yeah? My grandpa used to say I ran hot. Like a furnace or somethin’. 

I agree. You burn like firewood. And you smell warm. Like cedar and honey. You stretched languidly, and the younger stayed put, not strong enough to pull away from your praise and touch. Your teasing fingers raked through his hair daintily, and this time Yuuji did moan. Just the slightest bit before he snapped his mouth shut and bit his lip. 

You leave me wondering how you taste. 

“What?” Yuuji squawked. Your eyes lazily opened a crack, seemingly put off by the sudden break in room silence. It gave the sorcerer an opportunity to admire the golden glints of divinity hidden in the hue of your iris. 

But he found fear in that moment, too. Yuuji knew what most didn't–the curse sealed inside of him thought you to be his equal. You were the only beast Sukuna would bow before, the only one whose attention he craved and sought in his reign. 

You were, in a way, a king yourself.

Do you think I'll eat you, Yuuji? 

“I–uh–you–well–” Yuuji fumbled exceptionally, choking on flustered words. “I just--Sukuna ate people, right? So, uh. Maybe you did too?” 

You looked him over for a moment. Your gaze traced the cute curve of the younger's nose, the petite fangs worrying at his bottom lip, the caramel swirl of his eyes. He looked so much like Sukuna. It made you wonder. 

I've eaten humans, yes, You agreed, nonchalant. Do you want me to eat you?

“Eat me?” Yuuji deadpanned, unsure if he should feel just bothered or hot and bothered. “I, well–”

No. Sukuna’s voice cut like ice through Yuuji’s mind. For a second, it scared him. It reminded Yuuji of what exactly Sukuna was. What he’d do. 

So what would you do?

“Hey,” Yuuji started, suddenly calm, serious. “Why’re you on Sukuna’s side? You don’t seem like a bad person.”

You took a deep second to think before sitting up and hugging your knees to your chest. Your tails curled weakly around your clothless frame, swallowing up any spot a young man’s curious gaze might wander in the secrecy of night. Maybe you’d been in this situation before. 

“‘Good.’ ‘Bad.’ We all have different definitions.” Your voice rattled and scraped out your tired throat, yet you didn’t look perturbed in the slightest. “I do what pleases me: garden, sew, eat. Sometimes, I may cause harm in the process. I care sometimes, and I don’t others. Does it make me evil to choose what I care about?” 

Yuuji’s head started to ache. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up with your fancy, archaic way of speaking, but he was sure as hell gonna try. 

The younger sat up, too, and ruffled up his hair. “I mean. Don’t you wanna try to, y’know, not hurt people? Not cause harm, ‘n stuff?”

“Is fire wicked? Or does it simply exist?” You posed. “In the control of man, it is sacred. It cooks food, illuminates the dark, cloaks you with warmth. Yet it burns down trees. Swallows homes. Devours crops. Kills.” 

You looked at Yuuji, rose-wrapped eyes resentful of something the sorcerer could not know. “Man regards fire as a blessing when controlled, yet it is a curse when it runs free with nature–existence, the black and white of the world, is in the eye of the beholder.” 

Yuuji didn’t like how much that made sense to him. Objectively, Sukuna was bad. He killed. He murdered for fun. He ate people–

Yet your words, your pretty way of speaking and philosophies gave Yuuji pause. It didn’t click, despite igniting grim sparks in the cogs hidden far behind his eyes. He already made his mind up about good and evil, yes and no, white and black, and yet–

You poked him in the forehead, between his eyes, and Yuuji blinked. 

“It’s merely food for thought, Yuuji.” Why did you know his name again? “Don’t burden yourself with making decisions or anything of the sort. I suppose my answer was long-winded in regards to your question.” 

“Yeah, kinda,” he laughed, rubbing his cheek. “But, uh…it helped, I guess.” Yuuji pulled your hand down from poking him. “You don’t think Sukuna’s bad,” he concluded.

“I think he was a force of nature.” Your head tilted. Your eyes softened. “A monster to some, a god to others.” 

“‘N to you?”

Your eyes caught the morning light, iris reflecting with waking embers. 

“He was everything.”

Gojo thought you were pretty in the same way Getou was pretty; you were handsome with fine features, you radiated with odd power, and you spoke with unmatched poise and purpose it almost made the man’s ego swoon. 

But you looked tired as Getou had, too. Skin void of blushing warmth, eyes distant and hazy, dark circles pulling your gaze away from him. He didn't like it. It made him remember that cold hand ripping his heart to pieces. 

“Look who’s awake!” Gojo cheered as he sauntered toward you, hands in his pockets and a smile adorning his face. “Hungry? I could getcha some–”

“You were listening, were you not?” You wondered, running your bony fingers through matted fur systematically. Your split nails picked and clawed through tangles and knots thoroughly, as though it’d make a difference in your beat-up appearance. 

Gojo tilted his head before settling down in the seat beside your bed. “Hm? Me? Listening? To–”

“Yuuji and I.”

“Ah! You mean the night you snuck out to do some naughty, naughty things with my student?” 

You deadpanned fiercely, looking at him the way someone else used to. “Ha. Hm. Surely you jest.”

Gojo waggled his brows as much as he could, hoping they’d peek out over the top of his blindfold. “Hah, you think I don’t know what my sweet, precious Yuuji does behind closed doors? I know everything! I’m–”

“You misunderstand,” you cut him off, looking more and more concerned with each passing second. “You are a teacher? Why? How? This does not seem ethical.”

Gojo died. Rather, his pride did. Which was essentially his lifeforce. 

“What are you–okay, I’m just gonna chalk it up to you being cranky after getting woken up, alright? I’ll give you a pass. Just once!” Gojo nodded as a benevolent creature should. “You should thank me.”

“I’d rather not.” You sighed and returned to your grooming. “If you wish to interrogate me, I require food first. Tofu, specifically”

Gojo laughed. “Man, you are one high-maintenance god. Alright, you want normie tofu, or agedashi tofu?” 

You blinked and looked at him, curious. 

“Agedashi tofu?”

You really liked agedashi tofu. You liked the little sauce it came with, you liked the other random shit Gojo bought to try and win over your compliance–well, honestly, he also just wanted an excuse to shower someone with the food and snacks he liked. It’d been a long time since he’d had the privilege to. 

“So,” Gojo said as he popped the marble into the ramune bottle for you and handed it over, “About you and Sukuna.” 

“Mhm?” Your eyes glittered in fascination as you took the drink and examined it from all angles, carefully tilting it here and there to watch the blue bubbles rise to the top as the glass ball rolled and spun in its tiny prison. 

Gojo almost lost his train of thought watching you, but he reigned it in quickly.

“Seems like you were close.” Were was important. You'd referred to the menace in past tense when speaking with Yuuji–clearly, you didn't realize the curse resided within the young sorcerer. Best to keep it that way.

You pursed your lips in thought for a moment.

“I suppose. Why?” 

“I'm just nosy!” 

“I know that already. But there exists intelligence behind your annoying behaviour.” Your gaze slid to him, staring through the veil of fabric and straight into his eyes. “You're a monster like he was, aren't you?” 

“Hah?! Rude!” Gojo whined, but regained composure just as fast. “Seems your intuition is pretty good, huh?”

“It's simply an understanding of nature.” 

“Is that what pulled you to him? His nature?” 

“No. I was given to him. As a gift. By a clan of sorcerers.”

“Huh. A gift.”

“Yes. The harvest festival required as much. He was revered as a godly creature. Something to be feared.” 

“And so were you,” Gojo guessed, and you frowned and looked away, instead picking through the treats and snacks brought to you. 

“The people saw us very differently.”

Sukuna didn't walk through the city below often–not until you decided you liked it down there. 

Finding out that you walked through those streets alone sent a trill of something unpleasant up Sukuna's spine; knowing you were alone, vulnerable and under the eyes of so many that so often cursed Sukuna and wished him dead made him…uneasy, maybe. You could handle yourself. Sukuna simply couldn't handle the disrespect.

But things weren’t as he assumed.

You walked through town, and the people revered you as they would Amaterasu incarnate. Most didn't address you, but all saw and accepted your presence with grace and kindness, nodding or flickering small smiles as you passed by with the king trailing behind. 

Sukuna could understand; you'd become something astoundingly breathtaking. Lush, full tails dipped and swayed as you walked with the poised elegance of royalty, the feeling only enhanced by the careful, intricate way you presented yourself in your attire. Sukuna knew you felt beautiful. You were beautiful. 

“It's (Name!)” A child cried, and Sukuna fought the urge to punt the little shit into the restaurant across the road when the tiny human grabbed at your clothes. 

But you smiled. You actually smiled when you patted the girl on the head and said your sweet hellos before ushering her along after her mother. The corners of your eyes crinkled for once, showing that, yes, you'd aged and felt joy and become so perfect because of it. And when you cooed sweet farewells to passing little ones, your fangs flickered against the colour of your lips, just for a second. 

Your gilded gaze caught his carmine stare, and you tilted your head. 

“Sukuna.” You held your hand out to him, and he took it. He had no choice. He was only human, and you were God. Walking through a city of mortals.

He let you lead on, wandering to the shops where you bought thread and fabric for your stupid little projects with money he didn't even know you had. You could have just taken everything you wanted, especially with the king stood right by your side, but you eased the shopkeeper's nerves with kind words and ample pay. 

Sukuna all but picked you up and launched you both back home the second you were done meandering. He had a job to do; he had to fully commit to siring a runt.

Now, Gojo didn't need to know all that, but it didn't stop your mind from wandering to that night; it was the first time he looked at you like that. It was the first time he decided against lording his power over you, instead holding you close and taking things slow. You missed it. You yearned for the night he stopped seeing you as a toy and saw you as you. The night he finally learned your name.

“They viewed me as something divine,” you continued, digging out of the warmth of memories. “Perhaps because I walked alongside someone like him.” 

“Well, only gods can walk through a volcano and come out unscathed, no?” Gojo smiled a bit as you looked away, embarrassed. 

“That's a poor analogy.”

“Eh?”

“How would one walk through a volcano? None would even think to get close enough to do so.”

“W-Wait–”

“You would be underground, would you not? With limbs melted, oneself ablaze? And one would not walk but wade through lava.” 

“It's just a metaphor!” Gojo wailed. 

“A poor one.” And you continued to pick through snacks, unbothered that you'd just destroyed the strongest man alive as you munched on cheese-flavoured rice puffs.

Gojo laughed, though. ��I can see why he liked you. Supports the theory he's not the one who put you in the coffin.” 

“It wasn't him,” you snapped. Your ears flattened against your skull as you shrunk in on yourself. “At least…not directly.” 

Oh? Gojo leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he laced his fingers together.

“Then who was it? What happened?” 

“I don't fully understand it myself,” you confessed. Your voice was a whisper, cold and lonely like a far North winter. 

“Maybe I can help.” 

You looked to him and back down again. 

“There was a man. A sorcerer. I don't know his name–I never cared to learn it. He was odd.” You tore up little bits of hi-chew wrappers as you spoke. “He asked me if I would sacrifice myself for Sukuna.” 

“And?” Gojo prodded. 

“I would not,” you said. “Sukuna would never need my sacrifice, he'd never need my aid. He was the strongest.” A light frown tugged at the corners of your mouth. “That creature thought otherwise. He mentioned something about additional wombs, but I don't know what that means.” 

Fuck. Gojo nodded politely. “Gotcha, gotcha. What'd this guy look like? You remember?” 

“Unremarkable, save for the odd sutures across his forehead.” 

“Oh? Interesting. Alright, last question, my cute little kitsune–”

“(Name),” you cut in. “Address me as (Name).”

Gojo sparkled. “Waaah, I think our relationship just leveled up to A-tier! One more level and I can romance–”

“Please do not make me hurt you.” 

The white witch whined and deflated against his chair. “Boooring.”

You huffed and flicked your ear. “Ask your question, goblin.” 

Gojo took a breath before he spoke. 

“Are you with child right now?” 

The world changed suddenly. Seal papers coating the walls drowned in bones and flowers as the pungent sweetness of orchids and decay curled around Gojo. Around you, a cage began to rise, jutting out from the earth and encircling you like thousands of rigid arms holding you in an embrace. And your eyes–they shone with abhorrent divinity, outshining even the nine, pristine tails breathing with blackened fire. 

But there was screaming. Two voices intertwined. Little and distant, warped and outraged at–at something. Maybe Gojo? Maybe his accusations, his questions? 

Just when the sorcerer was about to act, your clasped a hand over your stomach, and you whispered with the thrum of a thousand voices:

“Be still.” 

It all moved slowly, then. The phenomenon–the apparent domain expansion–reversed, sinking back into the floors and walls with the soft sound of chittering and cooing taking the place of wicked screeches. You, too, cooed back to the twin voices, placating them with maternal ease. 

Your divinity faded with the last shreds of the illusion. Now, your colours faded further, painting you in desaturated tones of exhaustion and worry. Gojo hated that palette. It'd been used too many times on too many he doted on. God was stupid like that, creating such sad, worrisome colours.

The sorcerer took a deep breath in the silence of the room. He didn't know what to say, or how to say it. He was never good at this kind of thing. His other half was much better at this. 

But he had to try. The look on your face told him he had to try. 

What would he have done?

Gojo’s hand reached out as he leaned forward, and he caught your scarred, bony hand in his own. You didn’t pull away, you didn't fight him, you instead curled your fingers around his and held your breath while your gaze became unseeing, your heart ceased beating just as your breathing had. For a moment, you died.

“I'm sorry,” Gojo whispered. And you nodded. Somehow, he knew it meant, ‘me too.’ 

It was then, touching you, that he could feel the negative energy thrumming beneath a shell of divinity. Two different un-lives coiled inside of you, filled with bitter hate for man and undying love for their mother. For you. It wasn't unlike the bond shared between Yuuta and Rika, but this was not as simple. 

“Your ilk did not approve of Sukuna siring children,” you murmured. Your grip on his hand turned poisonous. “If you try to take them from me–”

“What'll you do?” He asked, knowing they'd never be born. 

“--I will turn everything to ash. Set fire to the skies. Just as I have once already.”

“Good.” Gojo smiled. “You'd be a good mother.” 

“I hope I one day can be.”

The masked menaced nodded again as he idly soothed his thumb across your knuckles. “Never say never, yenno? We'll figure something out for you. If you can do something to help the school–”

“I can give gifts. Once I have the energy.” You didn't sound like you did. Gojo wasn't sure if you ever would.

“Yeah? Like what?” He asked anyway. 

You looked at him, weak and defeated, yet still clinging to life. 

“My divine favour.”

[aziraphales-library]

Hi,

Could I ask for some roommate fics? A little pining is great but I'm not a huge fan of too much angst.

There is one roommate fic I remember that I'd love to find again, it was set during lockdown, and azirphale was a virgin but was talking to Agnes on zoom with plans to date. Crowley offers to teach him about sex, and it gets physical, even though they're straight buddies ..of course. 😏

Thankyou

We have a #roommates tag. Here's the one you're looking for and a few more to add...

Not a Mounted Dildo but a Fuck Machine by NaroMoreau, summerofspock (E)

Aziraphale and Crowley have lived together for three years when lockdown goes into effect. When Aziraphale meets a nice girl on Tinder who he thinks is his perfect match, he's delighted. There's just one hurdle: that pesky virginity thing. Lucky for him, Crowley has always been there for him. He's helped Aziraphale with every other problem through the years, why not this one?

Tinder Dates Gone Wrong by OceanLace (E)

Aziraphale decides to take a risk and brings a man home but doesn't realize that his roommate and best friend had the same idea. Things don't turn out the way either of them were expecting but end up exactly how they wanted.

Principles of Proximity by Cannebady (E)

Crowley's plan is to get through grad school in one piece and then live his bachelor dream life. With a less-than-wholesome upbringing and no real human ties to speak of, he's made a life for himself. It's just fine, actually. And he's fine too, while you're at it. Enter new roommate, Aziraphale, who just might teach him the benefits of putting down roots.

…And They Were Roommates by Mimsynims (E)

“You know… I just remembered that Richard and I were going away for a few days next month.” Something devious came over him. “Richard paid for it, but the booking is in my name.” Crowley quickly caught on to what he was getting at. “Ooh, I see. That’s convenient.” He grinned. “For us." When Aziraphale's boyfriend Richard (Dick) breaks up with him, he and his roommate Crowley hijacks an intended couples' vacation and uses it for themselves. Lines that had started to blur even before their trip gets even more blurry - which perhaps isn't the best thing when both are hiding a crush on the other (and communication isn't their strong suit).

make it with you by NaroMoreau (E)

PAID RESEARCH OPPORTUNITY: A romantic couples study!! ------ Aziraphale and Crowley are broke roommates who are struggling to keep up with rent and a harsh landlord. After Crowley loses his job and Aziraphale's bookshop hasn't managed to make enough profit, they'll resort to anything to save what they love, and when they come across with the idea of a paid study for couples... Because some ideas are good until they aren't.

You Can Stay At My Place (And We Can Fall in Love) by IneffableToreshi (E)

Anthony Crowley is an art student with a heart of gold and a broad assumption about himself and his own (apparent lack-of) sexuality. When he meets literary student Aziraphale, he thinks he's found a great friend and possibly the perfect roommate. But when an exceptionally idiotic idea turns into Aziraphale reluctantly agreeing to pretend to be Crowley's boyfriend, Crowley rapidly realizes that he may not have been nearly so asexual as he originally thought...

10,000 Hours by AnnaTheHank (E)

Rich playboy Anthony Crowley has finally broken the last straw. He's been disowned by his grandmother, and turned away by his family. With no money and no where to go, he heads to the old family cabin to lay low until it all blows over. Romance writer A.Z. Fell has been given use of her publisher's cabin to get away from the city and work on her newest book-her first erotica. Neither expected the other to be there, but there they both were. And AZ finds that Crowley's vast knowledge of sex may just make up for her own lacking knowledge when it comes to writing her book.

- Mod D

[sreyaya]

Brother Norton smut pls, I just saw your post, YES BROTHER NORTON SMUTTT PLSSS I LOVE YOUUU 😭😭

Confidential

Modern AU | StepBro!Norton Campbell x F!Reader NSFW

Content Warning: 1.5K words, STEPCEST!!!!!!!, implied creampie, weird relationship entanglement, cock riding, blowjob/oral (giving), m!masturbation and getting caught, MDNI (DON'T READ IF U'RE UNCOMFY)

(A/n: OK I HEARD U. I love the idea of stepbro!Norton more so we're going with that ARGH)

smut under the cut!

It's always him, isn't it? Norton, the reason for your struggles, the one who'd point and laugh when you fell down. To be fair, it was a twisted story, you never thought your mom would date—your ex's dad? Nothing could've prepared you for the moment he stepped foot on your doorstep with that shit-eating grin.

Your relationship with Norton had always been- unconventional. It was purely based on sex and pleasure, filled with physical attraction with no romantic strings attached. The passion between you was undeniable, going as far as sneaking around, finding any excuse to be together to do it. To be frank, it felt incredible, Norton was exceptionally skilled during it, and let's not even start about his incomparable length. It was the perfect set.

But regardless, he was always mean to you as your so called brother. He didn't cut you any slack and made fun of every single thing you failed at, and it was annoying. Especially when your parents adored all of his achievements, including your mom, parading everything he had achieved, it made you feel even saltier than ever, you were sick of it.

Tonight was one of those nights where you stayed up longer than whatever time you intended to. Grabbing another glass of water as you looked up at the clock, marking how it was going to be three soon enough, you realized you needed to sleep soon, or you might just end up waking up too late. As you were going to head back, small thuds were heard from above the kitchen, and you weren't surprise knowing it was his room.

Curious, you wanted to check it out, assuming Norton was probably trying to sneak out again for another party across town or it was one of his habitual night gaming sessions. Truly, he hadn't changed much from the time when you were still together, with him sneaking out at early mornings just to meet you, fucking until the break of dawn, what a waste of a charmer.

You walked down the hallway carefully, seeing his door opened to a certain degree, and to your surprise, he was neither trying to sneak out nor playing his games, he was doing something much worse than that. Norton was dragging his palm across his cock, his other hand preoccupied with a picture of something, something quite familiar. It was you, with your favorite lingerie that you still kept even until today, the same lingerie that he bought for you months ago.

Stroking his own cock while suppressing down his moans with his soft pillow, with small whimpers still managing to escape. Imagining how your pussy would always take him so good, your walls all clamping down on him while he watches your puffy clit all so well, watching your breasts spill to the side as he fucks you nicely from behind. It was all playing on the back of his mind while he softly cursed upon himself.

It was the lewdest thing you'd seen him doing, it felt weird too, firstly because you were his ex, and secondly because he was indirectly your brother? Doesn't that kind of sound improper? Your heart pounded in your chest as you took a step back, hoping to retreat quietly before Norton noticed you. But just as you turned to leave, your foot caught on the corner of the hallway rug, causing you to stumble, pushing the door open inside.

He looked at you, eyes wide with shock. You scrambled to your feet, trying to find the words to explain why you were standing there, why you were witnessing this questionable moment. He was the first to break the silence. "What the hell are you doing here?" You could only stammer, trying to collect your thoughts. "I-I heard a noise. I thought you were sneaking out or something."

His face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. "So you just decided to spy on me?" Norton exclaimed, still whispering so your parents wouldn't wake up. "It wasn't like that!" you protested. "I didn't know you'd be... doing that". Norton ran one of his hand through his hair, pulling up his boxers, frustration evident in his face. "Look, this is none of your business. Just... just get out".

But you couldn't move. The image of him, what you had just seen, was etched into your mind. And then, without thinking, you blurted out the words that had been buried deep inside you for so long. "Why do you still have those pictures?". He froze, his eyes locking onto yours. "What?".

"Those pictures," you repeated, more quietly this time. "Why do you still have them? We broke up months ago, and you're kinda like my brother now, Nort." you asked once again, lying down on the foot of his bed.

Norton was silent for a while before he opened his mouth, "I missed you," he murmured, his voice low and filled with longing. You turned your head up at him, before turning away as well, "missed you too."

Norton was taken aback, didn't know that you'd respond. Before you could second-guess yourself, he closed the distance between you, inching closer to you as he continued by meeting his soft lips. It felt like coming home, like finding something you had lost long ago. You responded to him immediately, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer. The kiss deepened, becoming more desperate. You could feel the months of pent-up emotions, the unresolved questions, all dispersing into the kiss. His hands roamed your back, pulling you even closer while your fingers tangling in his hair.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you whispered, your breath warm against his skin. "I know," he answered back, mumbling softly as his hands slid under your shirt, making you shiver, "But I can't stop." And neither could you. You both knew it was wrong, that it was complicated. You pushed him down on his own bed, the silk sheets scrunching up beneath him as both your weight fell down below.

His rough hands were all over you, under your thin sleepwear as he felt your warmth beneath his touch. His hands slid up your thighs, making your skin tingle in response. As he pulled you closer, his lips never leaving yours. Norton pulled off your shirt, revealing your bare skin to his hungry eyes, wanting to devour every inch of you. His mouth traveled down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and marks all over you, his hands cupping your breasts, thumbs circling one of your nipples while he occasionally suck the other.

You arched your back, pressing against him, feeling his erection through his boxers as you reached down, your hands trembling slightly, and pulled them off. His length was hard and ready, and you felt a rush of desire course through you. You slid your hand down, wrapping your fingers around him, feeling his warmth and hardness. "shit—", his hips bucked into your hand. "I need you," he murmured, his voice deep and raspy.

"I need you too," you replied, letting go all of your guilty thoughts as you took him whole in your mouth. "T-This is crazy," he whispered, his voice filled with both fear and excitement. Your head bopped up and down on him, licking every inch and vein of his thick length. Constantly taking it out with a loud 'pop' as you give small licks down the slit. Norton was fucked out of his mind and you were here for it.

It didn't take long before you mounted on top of him, his hands holding both sides of your hips firmly, guiding you down his girth as he whimpered lowly. Norton pushed into you, filling you completely. You gasped, your body arching against him, feeling the intense pleasure of him inside you. He moved slowly at first, savoring the sensation, his eyes closing in pleasure. Then he began to move faster, his thrusts deep and hard, his hands gripping your hips as yours were placed behind you whilst you were jumping up and down on him.

You matched his rhythm, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony. The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and the lewd noises where you both connected, the bed creaking beneath you while your moans and gasps mixing with his. You felt the tension building inside you, the pleasure knot growing much tighter with each thrust. "'m close," you whispered, your voice breaking with need. "M-me too," he replied, his voice rough with desire.

Norton reached down, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. You cried out, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm, a roller coaster of pleasure crashing over you. He followed you over the edge, his body tensing as he came inside you, filling you with his warmth.

"We can't keep doing this y'know," you whispered, your voice filled with a hint of satisfaction. "I know," he replied, his voice soft. "But for now, let's just stay like this."

[emp-t-man]

eiffel and minkowski are often perceived (either by the other characters of the podcast or its audience, but mostly by each other) as the lazy slacker who sucks at his job and the competent go-getter who’s the best at what she does, and yet neither of these things are true. i think one of my favorites of their parallels is they are both exceptionally good at what they do, and yet they both constantly suffer from doubts about their own abilities. they just have completely different ways of going about this insecurity, and that’s what creates this stigma about them.

eiffel has proven time and time again that he absolutely knows what he’s doing in his field. He’s extremely protective over his equipment, he knows exactly what to do when it doesn’t work ninety nine percent of the time, the man made two way radios from old audio recorders, for christ’s sake, not to mention the way he was able to figure out how to survive for months in the middle of deep space completely by himself. but one of his most fatal flaws is that he doesn’t believe he knows what he’s doing. his self hatred and insecurity run so deep that the moment he believes he’s not cut out for something, he stops trying entirely. he sees people like minkowski doing such a good job in their position, that when people like that tell him he’s incapable of doing the same, he believes it, because he never believed in himself, anyway. i think the most obvious example of this is after the season one finale, when he learns about the decima project. the minute he learns that being an officer of communications wasn’t his only purpose on that mission, he comes to the conclusion that he doesn’t serve that purpose at all. he resolves that he was simply an “experimental meatbag”, chosen for the mission because he had absolutely nothing else going for him. he’s so quick to dismiss his worth and his capabilities, and so he leans into this persona of a good for nothing procrastinator to avoid letting his peers down by never letting them form expectations of him in the first place. of course, he isn’t perfect, he is a bit of a procrastinator and a scatterbrain, but that’s far from all he is.

minkowski on the other hand, she’s constantly praised for all of her achievements and hard work, be it by goddard, by her students, her superiors, lovelace, and especially eiffel in the later seasons. she’s seen as strong, and resilient, and an excellent leader. but the thing is, she also constantly doubts her own ability. this can also be seen during the season one finale, where she apologizes to eiffel because she describes hera’s deactivation and hilbert’s mutiny as her own fault, because she wasn’t a good enough commander to prevent it. but the thing about her is when she starts to doubt her capability, she works overtime to try and prove herself and anyone else who may doubt her wrong, which is also unhealthy! it happens with the plant monster, when she continuously risks her own life just to prove to herself that she can have the slightest bit of control over a situation. it happens during pan-pan, where she attempts to keep the stress fractures in the station a secret and handle them on her own because she wants to be able to protect the lives and morale of her crew the way a “good commander” should! instead of giving up and saving herself the disappointment if ever she should fail, she does the complete opposite, working herself to the bone and obsessing over every detail to make sure she doesn’t fail, no matter what it takes.

now here’s the kicker— after the events of desperate times / desperate measures, eiffel and minkowski completely swap coping mechanisms. when lovelace comes to, minkowski almost immediately asks her to assume the position of commander in her place, because she thinks that the loss of lives means that she completely failed her objective and isn’t fit for the role. her stepping down is essentially giving up in her eyes, because why hold such an important position if you’re no good at it? meanwhile, in episode fifty two, after eiffel gets called out on his, while without malicious intent, inconsiderate and distasteful behavior, he completely withdraws from the rest of the crew in order to work extremely hard on his own tasks, ultimately risking his and the rest of the crew’s life in order to prove he can be useful. sounds familiar, right?

but the thing is, they’ve each already spent so much time reverting to their original way of coping, that attempting the other’s method is immediately clocked as simply being concerning and out of character, rather than establishing them as the opposite archetype of being capable or not. lovelace expects minkowski to always resort to overachieving, but not because its a way to disprove her insecurity, but because it’s just “who she is”. so when she does the opposite, that’s when she realizes something is wrong, and resorts to comforting minkowski instead of simply letting her do what she’s elected to do. hera expects eiffel to laugh off any mistake he makes and go back to goofing off— not because it’s his way of avoiding disappointment from those he cares about, but because it’s just “who he is”. so when he does the opposite, focusing solely and intently on his duties where he was so comfortable neglecting them before, she realizes something is wrong. and when he explains to the rest of the crew that his actions are only to “help the only way he still can”, they realize something is wrong, and choose to comfort him rather than simply rolling their eyes and letting eiffel be eiffel.

it is. so incredibly late at night so i don’t know if this makes the sense i want it to make but i just. cannot get enough of how much they compliment and reflect each other. they seem to have nothing in common on the surface, but they fit together so well in terms of how they operate as people and i’m obsessed with it

[swifty-fox]

There is a coyote who follows John Egan, only sometimes it’s a man too. Pale-eyed pale-haired a washed-out shape against the desert. The man-beast follows him from Clovis to Albuquerque and right on back. At night when John lays curled by his fire, he sleeps with a gun in hand and Zigags reins hooked round his ankle lest the sweet whispers of his Not-Coyote lures the mare away. 

Voice that reeks of iron and copper blood, sweet as a devil and horrible as an angel. 

Come away, come away, dance in the desert with me sweet-blooded man. Come sweet horse with your fat succulent flesh, run under the moonlight until your lungs give out. 

At every town John takes refuge with the local parish, prays when he wakes and before he sleeps and ignores the mournful howling that haunts him until he returns to his cattle. Every town he asks the pastor about demons, every town tells him to Pray Harder my Son. 

If I prayed with any more frequency or vigor I’d take over your damn job, Father, John thinks every time. 

In the scrublands the coyote who wasn’t a coyote circles his cattle. Its eyes glow a stunning blue and make John’s nose bleed when he holds contact for too long. Too tall to be a canid, tall as a man, only visible as a delicate limbed silhouette against the stars. John closes his eyes and prays, decides not to stop for the night and ties himself to the saddle lest he fall asleep. Come morning he’s lost three head and the rough hemp rope has chafed his thighs bloody. But the beast seems satisfied for now, retreating from the shadows of the campfire to follow a few miles behind. Never fully gone, but well fed for now. 

At night the whispers are mournful, still smelling of blood and raw meat. 

The desert is cold, cold cold cold. My bones are cold cold cold. Won’t you warm them, traveler, won’t you let me sit by your fire sweet-blood?

John knew better than to speak to the desert, for all its voice was warm and rumbling. He sleeps again in his saddle, makes his way into town and collapses into bed at the local inn, and sleeps for two days. Not even the howls rouse him this time and his slumber saves him from the murmured unease of the townsfolk. He sells a few steer, rests his horse, and his cattle, and takes communion from the local Parish every morning in hopes of flushing out this specter. 

He makes his way up to Raton just shy of Colorado to hook up with the rest of the herd and offloads half their stock. The other guys have begun steering clear of him, unwilling to share a campfire with a wraith and a man marked for death. John doesn’t care, not really. He’s here to sell Harding’s stock and make it back to the ranch by winter. He’s not lonely neither, he has ZigZag and he has his spectre. And it’s not much of a chatty thing except when it’s hungry or the night becomes exceptionally chill.

Aren’t you tired, sweet-blood? Don’t you need rest? Close your eyes, close them tight let me have just a taste, just a nibble. 

John buys a rosary. Buys a second one. Wears them ‘round his neck even when he bathes. Naked in the river, he floats and tries to ignore the clever canine face neatly blending into the sandy rocks save for pale turquoise eyes. Hungry eyes, hungry teeth that dripped thin watery blood now and then. When he returns to the river bank he finds a jackrabbit slaughtered and laid out on its back, limbs sprawled in a way that felt deliberately arranged. He stares for a long time, long enough for the flies to gather. Only they don’t, and the blood on the corpse doesn’t dry and pale eyes watch him from the opposite shore and a breeze ruffles his hair bringing with it the scent of cinnamon and blood. - Halloween Horror Clegan WIP

[rooksunday]

fluffcember day two: winter flu

“this is ridiculous,” fox muttered, only it sounded more like dis is ridiculud due to the aihwa of snot currently clogging the chambers of his face.

thorn didn’t even bother making a token effort at a sympathetic expression. after five days of being the sole commander immune to the flu currently running through the ranks, even thorn’s patient professionalism had hit a limit. if fox hadn’t been a breath away from drowning in his own body fluids, he might’ve been impressed with pushing thorn that far.

as it was—

“that arm is still attached, you know,” fox complained as thorn yanked him bodily aside and shoved him toward the wall.

broom in hand, and no emotion on his face, thorn blinked out from dead eyes. “i can remedy that for you.”

“uh, no. carry on.”

fox stood meekly in the corner as thorn finished sweeping out their shared office. the mouse droids had gone on strike after widget had attempted to turn them into mobile tissue boxes, which left thorn and the few corries neither on duty nor wishing for the sweet release of death to tidy up or be lost forever under the debris.

“i can help,” fox said, and started to gather the various chipped mugs from his desk to show willing. “let me help.”

snatching one of the mugs from fox’s hand, thorn jabbed the handle of the broom at him and hissed like an aggravated tooka. “put those down or i will make you eat them.”

“thorn—“

“fox.”

fox put the mug down.

“do you need a break, thorn? maybe?” fox asked. then he sneezed. wetly. he snuffled and wiped his nose on a bundle of abused tissues. gross.

thorn sighed. “let me finish here and then we can get you some more soup, okay? shiv said you have to stay hydrated.”

cmo shiv had closed the medbay to any guard with the flu ‘for contamination reasons’. she gave her orders via comms and her minions; the latter now included thorn. fox didn’t complain about her stealing his second in command: thorn was much nicer than shiv. she’d have let him drown in his own snot days ago.

fox sneezed again. he felt exceptionally pathetic and, by the twitching of thorn’s lips, didn’t look much better. fine. if that was how things were, fox was going to lean into it, and hang his dignity.

“can i have hoth chocolate instead?” he asked. hoth chocolate was hydrating. it definitely counted. medically.

thorn sighed and rolled his eyes. then he nodded and smirked.

“i saw thire heading to the galley. i heard he got a care package from the temple. what’s the bet there’s something sweet in there?”

fox grinned. he suddenly felt much better.

[arliedraws]

Ok so I need your opinion on the "Sirius black was always different and was abused from the very beggining" thing because after thinking about the canon Sirius and Walburga it made me think that Sirius probably used to be Walburga's biggest pride and joy because he was a perfect son in her eyes but their relationship started getting worse after he miraculously became a Gryff.

It just fits, you know? Regulus always sounded like a quiet child, someone often overlooked while Sirius is loud, opinionated and hard to control. And Walburga sounds exactly the same.

There is no way she wouldn't love a child that is her copy, someone she saw as the perfect future heir. Because he //was// perfect.

But then he became a Gryff and mayby she still believed things would stay the same but then Sirius came home for the holidays and he was- different. Yeah, he was still loud and proud but he started asking questions that neither Walburga nor Orion liked. They humanized mudbloods!

After that I think the relationship just became more and more toxic until Sirius couldn't stay anymore in the house he used to love, with people he used to (and mayby still) love.

Mayby that's why Walburga hated her oldest so much even as a portrait. Sirius was supposed to be //the best//, he was supposed to be //perfect//. And yet here he is, broken and a shell of his perfect little boy, used, chewed up and discarded when he was no longer needed

What do you think?

First off, I’m going to be really careful about how we define abuse here. I agree to a certain extent, but I think we need to consider that what we know to be emotional and physical neglect/abuse today is very different from 1960s-1970s child-rearing. The Blacks were an exceptionally traditional magical family, and their behaviors towards their children would have reflected this.

I think Mrs. Black loved Sirius more than Regulus, and I imagine her expectations for Sirius were much higher. “Sit up straight, do this, do that, don’t do that,” etc. Critiquing, nitpicking, criticizing. Today, I doubt we would tolerate this sort of behavior from a parent, but I think this would have been very normal in their society. After all, you show your child how much you love them by turning them into the very best version of them, right? Right???

Regulus was a jealous, sycophantic little slug. I think he would have tried to get Sirius in trouble whenever he could, but no one likes a snitch, particularly not Mrs. Black. But it’s easy to pit siblings against each other, and Mrs. Black would have used this to her advantage: “Oh, Sirius, look how refined your brother is. Do you see him speaking out of turn? Do you see how he obeys his mother?”

I also headcanon that Mrs. Black used magic to teach lessons. In a fic, I have Sirius relate an anecdote from childhood where he repeatedly talks out of turn and Mrs. Black uses a Silencing charm on him to shut him up for a few days—a gentle punishment in her eyes and a vital life lesson, but really traumatizing for a child. Again, this is abuse, and perhaps other traditional families would see it as extreme, but I don’t think anyone would express concern or find it particularly troubling. (James would be horrified, though, of course.)

As Sirius drifts further and further away from his family, however, Mrs. Black becomes increasingly desperate to keep her son in line. They eventually dissolve into constant fighting until Sirius can’t take it anymore and runs away (or this scenario).

A lot of folks think that pain and hatred is the foundation of abuse, but really, it’s often love. Growing up in an environment where you are never good enough, where your parents are constantly criticizing who you are and how to improve is an incredibly damaging and traumatizing way to grow up. Imagine being told that you are better than everyone else but you are still not good enough. Your everyday actions—speaking, eating, just sitting there—could be something you’re doing wrong. Imagine just trying to fucking eat and your mother barks at you that you’re holding your knife and fork wrong. Or that the order in which you’re eating is wrong. Or that you’re making too much eye contact or not enough or that you can’t speak until an adult addresses you. Not because she hates you, but because she loves you.

Anyway, is it abuse? Yeah. Would Sirius have considered it abuse? I’m not so sure, but I’m not sure he would recognize it as love (why would he?). However, Mrs. Black definitely saw her parenting as love, and she would see him running away as taking her love and throwing it all away for nothing. Let’s be honest, I think she always hoped Sirius would come back to her, and it drove her mad that he never did.

Oh, and yeah, Sirius definitely loved his family. He was constantly rejected and belittled, and I think he hated himself for wanting their approval deep down (even though he would NEVER admit it and never do anything to get it). This is what can be so hard for children who come from emotionally abusive families—at some point, it’s still your mom, and you want her to love you, but you fucking hate that you want it.

[pinkiemachine]

GOTHAM FILES: SEASON 3

Okay, so from here on out, things may get a little more bare bones, as i haven’t put quite as much detail into the next few seasons…

After season 2 comes JUSTICE LEAGUE: HEROES RISING, and is immediately followed by THE MIGHTY TEEN TITANS. (I have the first two seasons for that show outlined, and in it we start to see Dick begin to want to spread his wings a little more.) Then after all of that, we get Gotham Season 3. We begin with a small time skip. Dick is now 17, he’s more than ready to get out of Bruce’s shadow, they’re fighting more often, they’re not as in sync as they used to be, especially as the premier is all about Bane, the man who breaks Bruce’s back and nearly kills Dick. Bruce almost relives his greatest nightmare and he can’t bring himself to allow that to happen again. They manage to team up and together they defeat him, but it was an exceptionally close call for everyone. These past few years, Bruce has been learning to actively be there for someone else. Dick NEEDED him to be there for him, personally, and Bruce had gotten so used to just tuning people out that it was hard for him to actively be a part of someone’s life like that. Now, though, he’s beginning to relapse a little. Dick’s almost an adult and can take care of himself. He feels like now’s a good time to start pushing him away and going back to a solitary oyster. Dick doesn’t take this very well, but he’s also glad to have an excuse to strike out on his own, so… oh well. He’s off to become Nightwing and work full time with the Titans.

While he’s away, Bruce spends a few days completely alone. We check in on how things are going with Catwoman, and the two of them are still kinda flirty and beating around the bush, but neither one of them feels like they’re in a place to really make a move, you know? They still got issues.

THEN who should appear in crime alley… but a young teenager named Jason Todd. He’s trying to steal the Batmobile’s tires. Batman confronts him, but he’s not scared. In fact, he actually tries to attack Bruce with a tire iron. Kid had guts! So much so that he actually gets Bruce to laugh. But seriously, he does need to set this kid straight, he can’t be going around jacking people’s tires. Jason can’t exactly go home to his parents, though. He doesn’t have either. He’s alone, living on the street, hanging with some bad people. His dad was never around from the start, and his mom was… in a bad place. Literally and mentally. Now she was gone too. So, Bruce tries to get Jason set up in the foster care system, but… yeah, in Gotham, that’s not much better. He finds him back out on the streets a short while later. And this time, instead of stealing the tires, Jason tries to stow away in the Batmobile to get inside the infamous Bat-Cave. Okay, now Bruce needs to put a stop to this. At first, he only intends to bring him back to the cave as a means of scaring him straight, but the longer he hangs around, the more Bruce is kinda actually growing fond of him. When he wasn’t acting like a total punk, he could be very funny and charismatic. And again, the kid had no where else to go, so… despite the fact that Bruce said he wouldn’t have another kid… he lets Jason stay a while… which turns into forever, because Bruce signs the papers and Jason is legally under his care now—what? Bruce doesn’t know what just happened. Anyway, Jason is here now and for him, adjusting to the Manor is a much bigger deal than is was for Dick. He shows up with all of his belongings filling up one plastic bag and his first night, he feels like he can’t even sleep in the fancy bed. He’s more comfortable just laying on the floor. He was really put off by the whole “fancy Manor life” thing, but now that he’s here, he starts to become really appreciative and almost never asks for very much. He’s also beyond excited to head back to school. He dropped out when he was, like, twelve. He was a good student and eager to learn. He liked learning. Nearly laughed in Bruce’s face when he showed him the Gotham Academy uniform, though. Anyway, his journey to becoming Robin started when he was just down in the Cave one night, using some of the workout equipment. Bruce suddenly found himself giving pointers and before long they were training together and the next thing he knew, Jason was asking if he could wear the Robin mask. Bruce is naturally very hesitant… but then, behind his back, Dick shows up and takes Jason, as Robin, out for a night on the town. He definitely thinks Jason’s got what it takes. He’s a tough fighter. And Bruce could use the company/backup. Bruce still doesn’t think it’s a great idea, but he allows it.

This is also the season when they adopt Ace, the German Shepherd, aka Bat Hound! Jason finds him and smuggles him home one night, and Alfred discovers him immediately, then Jason begs Bruce to let him stay. Says that he can come along on missions too, be extra backup. Bruce initially doesn’t bite, but… the dog does make Jason happy… fiiiiiiine the dog can stay. (He and Ace end up becoming real good friends, lol.)

Later, we tackle the Arkham Asylum storyline, there’s more villains introduced, more appearances of old favourites, Batgirl shows up, Nightwing shows up, AND THEN…

Tragedy.

Joker has Jason’s mom in the season finale. Acting impulsively, Jason goes alone to save her… and ends up failing. Joker captures him, brutally tortures him, but Jason refuses to give up. He’ll never stop fighting. In the end, he manages to break free and get his mom to safety, but he can’t stop the rest of Joker’s evil scheme in time. Before Bruce and the others can show up to save him, a bomb explodes in the warehouse where Jason was held prisoner… Bruce finds his body in the rubble. Jason is dead.

His worst nightmare has come true again.

Thus marks the beginning of a very dark time in Bruce’s life.

Part 4 👇

Part 2 👇

[satosugusandwich]

𝔏𝔢𝔱 𝔐𝔢 𝔖𝔢𝔢 𝔜𝔬𝔲’𝔯𝔢 𝔐𝔢𝔞𝔫…

True Form!Sukuna x Fem!Afab!Reader (This is an AU!!! Sukuna is not a homicidal maniac cannibalistic murderer! I think he’s sexy and my morals say no dick from crazy murderer BUT dick from crazy 😍)

Cw: implications of violence, vomit, reader thinks everything is suggestive… that’s it I’m pretty sure. Does red meat need a content warning???

Description: You've been friends with Yuji Itadori for some time now and have seen the best, the worst, and the strange in all your years of knowing him. You've never thought he was one to have any crazy secrets and well... you were wrong. And now the demon bound to Yuji is bound to you too! How fun! Good thing that you aren't stupid and won't fall for a being that by no means should you have ever interacted with! Right? Right...?

*Yuji is aged up but there will be no sexual stuff with him except maybe like a brief mention but yeah*

Chapter 4 Here!

Chapter 5: I’ll Do It

You woke in the morning, sweaty, still dressed in last nights clothes, arousal soaking in-between your legs, and grotesque confusion. Why were you dreaming of Sukuna sucking at your clit and why was he so fucking good at it? Well, he does have two mouths, but what does that have to do with anything? It was the weekend and it had been officially one week since you were nearly trafficked and kidnapped, you weren't feeling exceptionally positive, but it was certainly a lot better than sobbing and not even being able to look at yourself in the mirror. You also were used to Sukuna lounging in your living room or stealing food from your kitchen and you also were used to Yuji sleeping either in your bed or somewhere on the floor. You knew you didn't want this to be permanent and neither did Itadori, he missed his bed. You both wondered what was going on in Sukuna's head, but neglected to ask, mostly treating him as though he wasn't there. Sukuna didn't care, he was used to it, but he definitely noticed your jumpy behavior today.

First thing in the morning and you're back to staring at him like you did the first few days. He must've really upset you to make you this on edge again is what he thought, he had no clue that you were moaning his name in your sleep last night or that you got off a multitude of times on his tongue within your dream last night. Sukuna was really laboring over what he should do now that he's upset you so much, he would normally be indifferent, but there was something that really nagged him knowing you were mad at him. Really, it was quite the opposite for you, all of what you were mad over has now been replaced with why you had that dream instead.

“You’re finally awake.” Sukuna noted, giving you an uncharacteristic greeting.

“Y-yeah.” You answered, nervous that he might know somehow.

Sukuna attempted to start a conversation, hoping it’d read as him trying to not be abrasive. “Did you sleep well?” You did drink a lot, he knows he’d pass the fuck out really hard.

Your mind was running with thoughts. “Uh, yeah. Did you?” You were desperate to go back to your room now and shower.

“I slept for most of the night. I take so many naps I never sleep long.” Sukuna shifted on the couch, leaning on his hand.

What if you were moaning in your sleep and he heard you!!! Oh no!!!! “That’s good then.” You rushed back in your room with some orange juice in your hand. “I’m gonna shower.” Why would you tell him that, what if he sees it as suggestive?

It makes sense, you stink like alcohol and slept in last nights clothes, he can wholly understand wanting to be clean. He gave you a glance and a nod before turning on the TV to find something else to watch.

Shedding all the layers of your clothes and sitting down on the toilet, you repeated the dream in your mind over and over again. You must’ve dreamt of him because of how desperate you’ve been for the past months to actually get off and have good sex and he’s just the closest male in the vicinity so you dreamt about him! Yeah, that has to be it! There’s nothing else there, he’s just a man with 2 mouths, 4 arms, that’s unusually large, and recently watched a show about sex on your Netflix account, so you naturally threw everything together in your mind. It only makes sense.

You made the water really hot before standing under it and letting it soak every part of you. It’s like you wanted to get everything off of you. From the trauma of the past week, to Sukuna eating your pretty pussy out. You shoved everything down and into the back of your mind quickly, focusing on the fact that you need some good dick and the closest men with the best reviews frequented the bar you were at last night, you’re just gonna have to reach out. The problem is that you’re going to have to interact with Sukuna more today and you’re not looking forward to it. The good thing is that you’re going to have to go to work so you’ll have some time away from him and will be able to stop thinking about him and just make some money.

It wasn’t going to be a long shift today, just a short one and you were grateful especially because it was a busy day for you. Working as a server hasn’t been too awful, some people are really mean and others are very kind, which is something you are grateful for after a terrible week. You don’t have to go in for a few more hours, but you have a few things you need to do, including going to the store and just doing regular college kid things.

There was a knock on your bedroom door and Yuji called to you from outside the bathroom. “Hey, can I ask a favor?”

You peeked your head out the bathroom door. “Yes?”

“Me and Megumi haven’t been able to go out together, you’d be okay if Sukuna had to be around you today right? I almost never get any real privacy with him around, ya know. I’ll do the same when you have people around too!” He had a bright and innocent look in his eye and he was already dressed to go out. As much as your anxiety said no, your mouth said otherwise.

“Yeah. It’s okay. He’ll actually be able to maintain some distance now, since I’m feeling a lot better.” You told him, hoping that it was true and your subconscious was actually feeling safe because you might go absolutely insane if you have to have him over your shoulder the whole night.

He grinned. “Yaaay! Would you be okay if I spent the night at Megumi’s too?” He looked so excited, you can’t say no! “You seem to be feeling a lot better now.”

You hesitate but he seems to ignore it. “Yeah, that’s fine.” You two don’t live far apart, you live in the same complex, but still, you might be a little anxious staying alone again. “I will be okay.” You exited the bathroom, now dressed completely.

He ran up to hug you. “You’re the best, thank you! I’ll see you in the morning then, be sure to text me, okay?” Yuji let you go and got ready to run out.

“I will, don’t worry.” You definitely will, so long as Sukuna doesn’t watch you the whole time.

Yuji gave Sukuna a quick wave and he responded with a grunt, seeming to not care. He got of glimpse of you from within your bedroom, all four eyes watching you before you closed the door to do some quick homework. Sukuna scoffed when you shut it, confused as to if he’s pissed that you’re mad at him or if he’s pissed because he’s so bothered by it. In a weird way, Sukuna was happy to be stuck with you today. If he can’t get you to tell him what’s wrong, he’d figure it out himself.

A few hours passed and you told him you had to go to the store. You were able to walk there since there was one right across the street so you were able to put in headphones and drown him out. All you had to get were basic toiletries, some food, and you wanted to get another game to keep yourself entertained in these tumultuous times. Sukuna stayed a few feet back, looking around the store for things that caught his eye. While in the women’s items section, you tried to hurriedly stash some pads in your basket, but he couldn’t help but stare at the vibrators they have right beside the condoms. He has some familiarity with them thanks to the show he watched a few days ago, you definitely noticed him smirking at the selection and tried to hurry along. When you went to the back for a game, he analyzed all the titles and cases, wondering what each of them are. You picked up an old Mortal Kombat that had recently been rereleased and decided to go with it, Sukuna found it amusing you selected a fighting game.

Then came Sukuna’s favorite part of any store, the food. He walked over to the red meat, poking at prodding at it. “These seem nice.”

Walking over, you realized the you didn’t know what he liked to eat but he clearly does eat a lot. “You like steaks?”

His lower set of eyes looked to you. “Yes, I like all kinds of meat.”

What does he mean by that???? “I can get some for you.” Ignore, ignore, ignore the suggestiveness.

“Hm, then get these.” He lifted two hefty pieces and put them into your basket, you almost forgot that he was invisible to everyone else and realized you probably just looked crazy telling thin air you’d get meat for them. No one paid any attention to you so they must’ve assumed you were on the phone thanks to your headphones.

“Anything else?” Your neck craned up to him and you were reminded of how insanely tall he is.

“Get whatever you’d like. I eat anything so long as it’s cooked well.”

You started to move along, picking out a few vegetables. “You seem to really like food.”

Sukuna scoffed, “isn’t it normal for every creature to like food?”

You didn’t know if he thought your question was ridiculous or you. “Well, not everyone sees food as this huge thing, it’s crazy to me. If I could, I’d have a personal chef at all times.”

“I used to have a chef.” He said nonchalantly, eyeing the huge, bright lit-up advertisements near the front of the store. “They cooked the most incredible meals. Saved me a lot of time.”

You were surprised. “You cook?”

He laughed this time. “Back in my day, you had no choice.”

As much as you wanted to complain about the cringiness of his comment, you knew it was true. The convenience of having a personal chef was rare and something only achieved by those in power or men of the house. The average person had to learn to cook.

After checking out all of your items and unpacking them at home, you realized you were nearly late and changed into your clothes faster than you have your entire life. Sukuna watched you scramble in amusement, your panicked state bringing out that fire he wished he could see more often. It really was so hard for him not to tease you when you made it so easy!!! For you, you had totally forgotten about your sex dream and everything else that had been bothering you, so by the time you were in the car and ready to go, you jumped out of your skin when he opened the door to get in the backseat.

“Fuck!” You called out and he chuckled. “Scared the hell out of me!”

He laid in the backseat, comfortably positioned while you drove off. You turned on the radio and tried to skim through music, but it was embarrassing having someone hear what you listen to, but even more embarrassing to realize he’d probably heard it all before when you were with Yuji. And then there you go again, thinking about your wet dream.

The ride over there was nearly unbearable, all the thoughts you tried so hard to repress were back up and at ‘em and even worse now that you realized quite a few things.

1. Sukuna has seen likely a lot more than a few private moments when you’ve been with Yuji.

2. He’s also most definitely heard when you listen to naughtier music.

3. He’s seen that you watched that Netflix show.

4. He could’ve very well heard you moaning in your sleep.

To your chagrin, Sukuna has to go inside with you even though you think you feel a lot better. He doesn’t seem to mind that much, wandering through the restaurant freely and listening to people’s conversations. You clocked in and immediately were put to work because of course it’s busy right when you come in. You helped your coworkers out and did your best to narrowly avoid Sukuna as you walked through, but it seemed like the other people just walked right through him as if he was a ghost. You didn’t have that luxury, if you bumped into him, you’d fall right onto your ass. Sukuna, as much as he wanted to see you flustered, knew that it wasn’t worth it so he attempted to help you out by staying out of your way. Eventually, he decided to rest in the waiting area and then he noticed something.

A man with dark hair, dark eyes, a nasty smirk, and a mean ass scar on his neck walked in. He recognized that scar, especially since he was the one who put it there. The man didn’t notice him, letting Sukuna know that if he is working with demons, they certainly aren’t nearby, especially since he was basically right in front of him. Looking at him, Sukuna is especially observant of his features, he’s wearing expensive rings and has olive skin, he’s also wearing expensive clothes that cover most of his body minus where theres a few glimpses of his chest from under his shirt. He looks to be the picture of the average upper class man, well-put together with lots of money in his pockets. He must make a fortune off of selling those girls is the first thing Sukuna thought, he’s also rather bold for letting his scar show.

The hostess spoke to the man. “Hello Mr. Tamaki, is it just you today?” The woman knows him.

“Ah, no, I’m coming for a meeting today. I will be joined by three other men.” He spoke? Impossible. Sukuna destroyed his larynx, he knows he did. And who are these three men?

“I see. Do you want your usual spot?” The woman gathered menus and started walking them over.

“Yes please, and my usual server. I didn’t get to see her last week.” Mr. Tamaki was sat in a corner booth, privately stored away from everyone else, basically. It was the furthest spot from the door and closest to the back.

The man got sat down, checking his watch and then his phone before turning toward Sukuna and greeting his server with a smile.

“Hey, Miss Y/n. I missed you last week.” Oh you’re fucking kidding him.

Sukuna moved out the way so you could stand in front of the table, but he was very tempted to grab you and pull you straight out the restaurant to go home. He did put a hand on your shoulder, signaling he wants to talk to you.

You ignored the gesture and greeted your regular. “Yeah, I wasn’t feeling very good, but I’m happy to be back. How are you doing this week? Is business good, I heard you had a good offer given to you last week, but it slipped right out of your hands.”

Sukuna wanted to kill this man.

Mr. Tamaki simply smiled. “Yes, yes, it’s doing fine. It was disappointing but I won’t let that make me give up.”

Sukuna could feel himself about to lose it and he gripped your shoulder tighter.

You tried to nudge him off like it was just a muscle cramp. “Anyways, what are we drinking tonight?”

Mr. Tamaki pointed at some wine on the menu and you wrote it down on your ticket. “Do you know what the others will be having?”

Sukuna’s patience was seriously being tested, especially as the other men seemingly headed toward the table. Luckily, none of them were recognizable to him, so at least they weren’t involved in your abduction. But they were ogling you like some type of fine wine as they approached.

The man shook their hands as they sat and greeted you all the same. When they reached out to shake your hand, Sukuna grabbed your wrist to prevent you.

“Something wrong?” One of them said, an older man with gray hair and a receding hairline asked.

You shook your head and Sukuna was entirely ready to pick you up and leave. “I’m okay, I just need to go to the bathroom really fast.”

Sukuna tugged you in the direction of the employees restroom and you could barely keep up as he walked. When you got inside, he stood in front of the door and locked you both in. Before you could ask, he answered your upcoming question. “Mr. Tamaki was the driver. He’s definitely been watching you through your workplace. You need to quit.”

You felt dizzy. “Huh? But? I don’t get it.”

Sukuna looked serious. “He must have demons working with him as well, that’s the only way his throat could’ve healed so fast. And you don’t recognize him, do you?”

You shook your head slowly, tears welling up. “No, he’s always been so kind to me here. There’s no way—“

Sukuna sighed. “Trash like him always put on the most convincing front. Give me the word and I’ll do it.”

You felt so sick, you lifted up the toilet seat cover and got on your knees. “I’m gonna throw up.”

“I’ll do it.”

You heaved once and then tears started.

“I should’ve killed him then and there, Yuji is foolish to let a bastard like him live.” Sukuna prattled on, anger filling his entire body. “One command.”

“Just shut up!” You yelled and he looked at you wide eyed. “This is a lot for me—“ Then you threw up.

His expression softened, watching you heave and sob into the toilet. He would normally be disgusted, but seeing you this miserable made him pity you. Disregarding all the aggression he had just built up, a gentle hand was now on your back and two others had pulled your hair back. Sukuna didn’t even recognize what he was doing, he hasn’t done something like this for someone since his youth. The gesture shocked you.

“S-Sukuna.” You muttered, the taste of stomach acid turning your expression. “Thank you for being so kind to me.”

Funny, he thought, yesterday you were yelling at him for being an asshole, which he can admit he has been, and yet here you both are now. He must admit, hearing you thank him filled him with a warmth he had grown unfamiliar with after hundreds of years of isolation. He thinks he might be going insane.

“It’s no trouble.” He scoffed. “Can you get yourself together now?” His voice was soft and he was sure he’s going insane.

“Yeah. I think we should go home.”

He didn’t want to press about dealing with those men, he knew it was for the best and that you, ultimately, were a being of compassion similar to Yuji. You wouldn’t want him to be killed, but Sukuna surely hoped you’d make those men face consequences. And he’d enjoy it if he was the one to do it. But that can wait until later, he knows the one thing he has to do it get you home safely.

[merakiui]

You're still here? —ace

(fwb dialogues)

When Ace walks into the kitchen, freshly showered and donning a spare set of clothes—clothes he's started storing at Ramshackle for 'emergency purposes'—you're half-surprised to see him.

"You're still here?"

"What? Don't wanna see this face anymore?" he teases, leaning against the counter in an effort to look perfectly cool and nonchalant.

"You just don't want Riddle to catch and collar you for sneaking in after curfew again."

"Yeah, obviously!" Ace heaves an exaggerated sigh before putting on Riddle's stern inflection. "He was all, 'You're not exempt from the curfew, Ace. If anything, it especially applies to you. Your first year is an important one. Don't squander it.' And then he made me paint the roses as punishment. How cruel can a guy be?"

"If you're Riddle, exceptionally cruel."

"Right? You get it." He locks eyes with you then. Your stare is insistent, and the longer you continue to peer at him the more he seems to shift and fidget. "W-What? Something wrong? I mean, I totally get why you're staring. Any longer and I'll have to charge you one kiss per—hey!"

Ace sputters when you drop the dishrag over his head. Before he can peel it off, you're using it to dry his still-soaked hair. "You showered quick."

"I care about saving hot water for you. Aren't I a good friend? That's gotta earn me, like, at least another kiss."

You laugh and pull the towel up to look at him. "That's the second time you've mentioned kissing. Someone's addicted."

"I've got my priorities in order. So what?" He averts his eyes, cheeks warming. "Anyways! You got anything good in the fridge? All of that worked up an appetite."

"I wish, but Grim cleaned it out earlier. I've gotta go shopping soon."

"I'll come with. Because I gotta get stuff, too!" he says, tacking that last sentence on with great haste. There's no such thing as dates between you and Ace. He's not into romance right now and neither are you. But sometimes you wonder...

"How kind of you." You beam, leaning in to press your lips to the corner of his mouth. "I'm still not gonna pay for your snacks, though. You're on your own."

"Cold-hearted..."

"Keep dreaming."

"Only if you kiss me properly."

You roll your eyes, but his roguish smirk is infectious and you can't stay away. Ace backs himself into the counter and you place your hands on either side of him to keep him there. With minimal effort, you move in and capture his lips in a real, raw kiss. It's the same routine, but something feels different tonight. The energy's abuzz with veiled feelings.

"I'm sleeping over, by the way," he mutters against your mouth, pulling you in close.

"Good. I don't want you to leave."

[devotedlykoneshots]

CHOI SAN : LYCAN

genre: 🔞, minors dni, werewolf San, San and reader dated in the past, reader is still in love with San

word count : 1729

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"Where are you going?" You wake up from your nap to see San trying to sneak out of your place quietly and he sighs upon getting caught. He'd shown up at your door earlier that night, wounded and in need of your magic touch as he liked to call it.

"Away" he admits and you frown, sitting up and letting the blanket fall next to you on the floor.

"Without saying goodbye? Don't I deserve some closure?"you asked, obviously sad that he tried to leave without saying goodbye yet again.

"What did you see?" He asked instead.

"Nothing"you've always been a terrible liar and its not the first time you've been caught lying.

"I can hear your heartbeat" he reminds you of what he is and you're the one to sigh this time.

"Okay , fine. I saw your wolf form" you admit and he nods, its not like he wants to leave you but he knew he couldn't stay.

"Then you know why I have to go" he turns towards the door again but you're up and grabbing his arm before he can walk too far.

"That's an excuse" you scoff and he looks at you, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Is it? Look me in my eyes and tell me you're not scared of me" he tells you and you look into his eyes, wholeheartedly telling him the truth.

"I'm not scared" he blinks , taken aback by the fact that you were being honest that time and honestly he wasn't sure if that made you naive or not.

"Would I bring you into my home if I was?" You asked him this time around and he steps closer to you, neither of you stepping down and cowering because you needed him to stay.

You missed him.

"Why did you?" He questioned you and you frown.

"Because you needed help and I couldn't leave you like that" you told him and he shakes his head.

"That's not good enough" he tries to pull away but you grab his other arm as well and he raises an eyebrow at you.

"I love you"you say and his eyes close as he takes a deep breath, he missed you too but he couldn't live with himself if he hurt you.

That's why he broke it off the first time, werewolves don't have good control and its exceptionally difficult for the bitten ones.

"I still do , okay and when I saw you again I just knew I couldn't let you go" you admitted and he pulls his hands free with ease, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you lightly.

"You know the danger you put yourself in?" He asked and you nodded your head because yes you did know but you didn't care.

"It's a risk I'm willing to take" you tell him and he scoffs, shaking his head and pulling back.

"I'm not"he cared too much about you to be selfish with you and gamble your safety.

"That's not your call to make" you counter.

"I'm a monster, a werewolf! Do you not get that?" He's becoming frustrated with your lack of understanding the danger that comes with being with someone like him.

"You're not a monster, there's good in you. I've always seen it." You cup his face and he rolls his eyes, grabbing your hands.

"Y/n look at me" you shake your head, not willing to accept that he was a monster.

"I am looking at you , I'm looking here and my heart knows you're not a monster" you place your hand over his heart and look up at him, tears blurring your vision.

This is what he wanted to avoid.

"Stay"you tell him and he shakes his head, leaning his cheek into your palm and nuzzling his face there.

"I can't" he's now getting emotional and you know he doesn't wanna go , you know he'd do anything to keep you safe.

"You can , for me? Please" you beg, pulling him down to press his forehead against your own and his hands go to your waist on instinct, his resolve turning into mush in your hands.

"I can't"he doesn't sound as confident as before and that was all you needed , he watches you with hooded eyes as you pull him closer and forcing his lips onto your own.

He lets out a whimper as the last bit of his resolve is snuffed out of him , your lips molding together in a deep and passionate kiss.

Your hands grip onto his shirt as you pull him against you and he groans softly against your lips, hands reaching for the back of your thighs.

"Fuck- jump y/n"he pants softly against your lips and you do as he says, wrapping your legs and arms around his waist and neck.

He carries you to the bedroom and lays you down on the bed, hovering over you and tilting your head to lather his tongue on the skin there.

"Fuck-"you whisper and tilting your neck to give him more room to decorate your skin, he's careful not to bite you and let's his clothed bulge press against the center of your shorts.

"San"you whimper his name, only causing his cock to harden and press against your shorts harder as his hips start to rock.

"Take them off"you cry out, reaching between your bodies and pushing your shorts down. He groans as he grips the back of your neck and uses his other hand to help you tug down your shorts before he pulls back to yank them off.

The slightly ripped material beging thrown behind you as he spreads your legs and licks the seat of your panties, you gasp and tangle your fingers in his hair.

"You smell so good"he moans softly and burys his face into your panties, his nose rubbing against your clothed clit and you mewl.

"Please san, do something"you begged him and he looks up at your frame, your shirt bunched up to show the underside of your bare breasts through your thin tank top.

He licks his lips and pulls your panties off next but he doesn't waste any more time as he laps at your clit with his tongue, you moan softly and tug in his hair.

"Shit"you curse and he groans softly at the tugs to his hair, sucking your clit into his mouth before dragging his tongue through your folds and sucking on your flesh.

"Taste so good"he moans against your pussy as he pulls you closer against his mouth and sucks harder, licking faster and flicking your clit more frequently.

"I'm gonna cum"you warned him and he pulled away, licking his lips and shaking his head as he crawls up your body to kiss you again.

"Why'd you stop?"you pout and he smiles, flashing his teeth but he doesn't answer just yet and instead he focuses on getting you completely naked.

"Wanna cum inside you"he whispers against your cheek as he hovers over you again and slaps your pussy , earning a squeak from him before two of his fingers thrust into your awaiting hole.

"San-"he shushes you and you whimper, his fingers curling and thrusting into you at a slow pace.

"Need to stretch you out first pretty"he rasps and you buck your hips against his fingers, an amused laugh leaving his lips.

"You like my fingers, yeah?"he asked and you nodded , you liked anything as long as it came from him. Choi san , your hot werewolf ex boyfriend.

Said ex boyfriend speeds up the pace of his fingers and thrusts them into your hole faster, your body thrashing around with each jerk of his fingers.

A mewl leaving your lips as he drops a  mouthful of spit onto your pussy and hearing the squelching sound from your arousal as you take his fingers, back arching as you buck your hips faster.

"Cumming!"you cry out and san shows you mercy this time as he lathers up the other side of your neck, you cumming all over his fingers as your hand covers your mouth to keep you from crying out too loud.

San pulls back as he pulls his fingers out of you and he licks them clean, a deep growl resounding in his chest as you watch him with hooded eyes.

"S-sannie"you reach for him and he removes the rest of his clothes before burying his face in your neck, letting you welcome him into your embrace and stroke his hair.

Your legs wrap around his waist again and you bite your bottom lip, he kisses your lips again and drags his tip through your folds as he collects your arousal before he slowly pushes himself inside of you.

"Is this what you wanted?"he doesn't give you time to adjust as he immediately starts to thrust into you, catching you off guard and wrapping a hand around your neck.

"San"you cried out, tears welling in your eyes as he doesn't show you mercy.

"Is this what you want me for? To fuck you dumb? Every night?"your eyes roll into the back of your head as he thrusts into you harder, your headboard slamming into the wall repeatedly from the force of his hips.

"Fuck- fuck!"you cry out and he throws one of your legs over his shoulder, his cock reaching deeper with this new angle.

"Oh my god!"your voice cracks and your body arches, fingers digging into his arms and he moans deeply.

Your fingers scratching down his back as he burys his face in your neck, your body squirming underneath his own as you cum but he doesn't slow down.

His hips plowing into your hole faster and fucking you into overstimulation, it's only when you start to squirt does he pull out and watch you try and catch your breath.

"I'm not done with you, turn around"his voice is stern and you don't want to test him, you flip onto your stomach and he grabs the back of your neck as he angles your head towards the mirror.

"Watch me fuck you dumb, I surely hope you don't have any plans for the next couple of days"he smirks and you catch his eyes glowing a deep red, you gulp.

Oh shit