#him just continuing to be incomprehensibly small

[iscreamkitty]

Ok so the mutant mayhem turtles got their handprints immortalized at the chinese theater in LA, and I just want to point out how tiny mikey’s paw is compared to his brothers. (I’m ill)

[seumyo]

todoroki and his awkwardness with babies.

Todoroki considered himself not good with kids. Yet somehow your nephew always seemed to favor him whenever he wasn’t busy with hero work and volunteered to babysit alongside you.

“Oh my goodness, look at this little cutie!” you coo, your voice brimming with excitement. Todoroki follows your gaze.

There he was. Baby Eitarou was happily gnawing on his teething ring as he sat on his play mat. His wide, curious eyes locked onto Todoroki’s mismatched ones. He tilted his head, letting out a series of excited babbles before reaching his tiny arms out toward him.

You gasped softly, clasping your hands together. “Shou, I think he wants you to hold him!”

Todoroki blinked, clearly unprepared for this turn of events. No matter how often he accompanies you, he still finds himself unprepared for every subtle change. “Me? Why?”

“I— don’t we always carry him whenever he does the grabby hands?”

“I do not, but you do. Because he always wants you to carry him.”

“Well, it looks like he wants you to carry him today,” you reply, your voice quivering with barely contained delight.

With a resigned sigh, he kneeled down. “I… suppose I can.”

He held the child stiffly, his arms awkwardly outstretched as if the baby were made of glass.

“Like this, hun,” you told him, adjusting his arms so he supported the baby properly.

Eitarou immediately snuggled into Todoroki’s chest, then gurgled happily, reaching up to grab at Todoroki’s face. His tiny fingers clumsily found Shouto’s cheeks, squishing them lightly as he let out a delighted giggle.

“Uwah!”

“Aww, you two are so cute! The cutest thing I’ve ever seen!”

Todoroki remained still, his hands supporting the baby securely while the tiny fingers continued exploring his face. “Is he supposed to do this?” he asked, his voice even. He eyed baby Eitarou and evaded his face whenever the little one tried to put his baby fingers in his mouth.

“He’s just curious!” you answered. “Let him—oh, now he’s going for your hair!”

Eitarou’s small hand found Todoroki’s dual-colored bangs, grabbing a tuft of white hair and tugging lightly. Todoroki froze, unsure how to react.

“Do I… stop him?” he asked slowly, unsure.

You waved your hands frantically. “No, no! Let him be! It’s harmless—unless he tries to put your hair in his mouth.”

He freezes, blinking owlishly at you. He’s never heard you speak of such things, let alone worry if Eitarou would nibble at your hair whenever you held this angel.

“He could do that? Should I put him down?”

“No! It’s just a little heads up. Babies who are teething tend to put most things in their mouth.”

“Oh.” Todoroki was somewhat relieved.

The baby let out another giggle, switching to the red side of Todoroki’s hair, his small face lighting up as he babbled incomprehensibly. “Umn!”

Your husband pouted a little. “Does this mean I need a haircut?”

He’s already thinking of going to the barber’s shop, the one that Kaminari had recommended in passing. Todoroki’s never tried that barber before, but if his friend had recommended it, then it could be worth trying.

You burst into laughter. “What? No! Why would you need a haircut? You just went to get a trim last week.”

“Oh. I did.”

He looked down at the baby, who was now attempting to bury his face into Todoroki’s shoulder while babbling happily, and he wiped the little drool on the corner of Eitarou’s mouth with the soft cloth you handed him. “I just thought that if my hair’s this interesting to a baby, maybe it’s too long.”

“Are you serious?” you asked, barely able to keep a straight face. “Hun, your hair is perfect. Eitarou just thinks you’re the coolest person ever.”

Todoroki blinked, clearly processing the statement, but he said nothing. His hold on the baby shifted slightly as he cradled the child more comfortably, the corners of his lips almost forming a smile.

“You think I’m the coolest?” he asks Eitarou, who could only giggle at him. “I think you’re the coolest as well, ‘Tarou.”

-

“You were great with him,” you said softly. Eitarou is napping by now, courtesy of Todoroki rocking him back and forth (even if you suggested he used the rocking chair instead so he doesn’t tire himself out) while humming a soft lullaby.

Todoroki glanced at you, his expression thoughtful. “I just held him, love.”

“Yeah, but you made him so happy—and got him to take his after-lunch nap. That counts for a lot.”

There was a brief pause before Todoroki replied, “I suppose.”

You sighed softly, watching as the tiniest hint of a smile flickered on your husband’s face. “‘Tarou’s grown to love you. You’d make a good dad someday, hun.”

His expression was unreadable as he took this in, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Maybe. Someday. When we’re both ready.”

He’d admit that the thought was... something he’ll look forward to more often now that you brought it up.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[snoopychris]

introducing… dad’s best friend!chris x reader

warnings: unprotected p in v (DO. NOT. DO. THIS.), no use of y/n, reader has daddy issues, chris is 33 and has a daddy kink, a little dirty talk, dumbification if you squint. oh and also dad!chris.

“so you have kids? you look like one yourself but… maybe i’m just flattering you. but you gotta be at least 18 to be at the airport alone and you’ve got a vertical ID so you’re at least 21.” the bartender speaks, continuing to shake your drink all around.

you chuckle and shake your head, leaning your chin further into your chin. “no i don’t. i’m 23 though…i should probably get on that or something. i don’t even got a boyfriend… just visiting my dad and his new family for the new years. you? any kids?” he sends you a smile as he places the drink in front of you, tasting it from a straw before handing it off. “what is this again?” you ask, furrowing your brows as you take a sip.

the man across the counter chuckles as he grabs another drink ticket, making the beverage all while conversing with you. “i call it the chris. named after the best damn bartender this place has ever known. me. duh. but yes. i got a son. he’s 4. his names owen.”

“he probably looks up to you. don’t screw him up. but with all that aside, how can you be so sure of that?” you whisper, licking your lips as you grab the drink from the counter once more.

“i’ve been workin here since i was 18 years old. first 3 years i was only washing dishes but ive seen a good amount of bartenders come and go. i know im the best bartender that’s ever been here. 15 years of evidence.” his voice is more confident than cocky. a kind of attitude you’d kill to be in bed with. you hum in acknowledgment, looking at your suitcase besides you as the airport PA begins to speak again. the words are incomprehensible, but chris seems to understand them. some flight is leaving from gate B17.

“you think it’s weird or pathetic or something if im drinking at an airport bar at 2pm to avoid seeing my father?” you question, stirring the drink around with the small plastic straw.

“i’ve seen people here blackout drunk at 11am. i think you’re fine. what’s your name again, kid?” he asks, his lips parting as he pours a beer for a man besides you. you give him your name and he hums, handing you a piece of chocolate from behind the bar. “i think kid suits you better.” you furrow your brows at the gesture, reluctantly taking the sweet. “kid, just take it. it’s a piece of chocolate. no harm done if you take it. you don’t even gotta eat it. just get that look off your face. you look sad. you’re too pretty to look that sad.”

you blush at his words, popping the chocolate into your mouth. you slide your empty glass back across the bar, sending the bartender a smile- a real smile- and thank him honestly. “what time does your shift end?” you question, noticing another bartender begin to settle in.

“my shift? the second that you tab out. you want another and keep enjoying my company or you gonna head to your dad’s house?” he teases, washing the glass you handed to him. you shake your head and sigh, sitting up straight. “should probably head home. can i get the tab?” you whine, leaning your arm and head on the marble counter.

“nah i got it. get outta here. go see your dad. be nice to him.” he smiles, clocking out for the day. you slowly walk away, hesitantly pulling your bag with you.

when you finally make it out of the airport after an excruciatingly long walk, you let out a sigh. you knew you had four options. call a cab, call an uber, call one of your high school friends, or call your dad. you take a moment outside to gather your thoughts, only being brought back to reality when you bump into somebody behind you.

“shit i’m so sorry!” you groan, turning to profusely apologize to whoever was the victim. you smile when you notice that it’s chris. “oh. you again. following me are you?” you tease, poking at his shoulder.

“why you still here?” he questions. even though he hardly knew you, he felt like he still had an authority over you for no reason other than he was older than you by 10 years. you shrug as you let out a sigh, looking around. “i just don’t wanna see him yet. i mean… i dunno.”

chris sends you a look of remorse but then pulls you into a tight hug, one you clearly needed. he rubs a hand over his mouth before speaking. “you trust me enough to come back to my place? just till you feel good enough to go to your dads.” the look you gave him made him practically collapse.

your back was arched to a point that you didn’t even know you could reach. your face was buried into a pillow that was most definitely being stained with your mascara. “take it. thaaaaatts a good girl. take that dick. fuck you’re so tight.” chris speaks, his pants getting heavier with each of his thrusts. he’s holding your hands behind your back while you’re pushing yourself back onto his dick. it’s practically impossible for him to go any deeper into you, but you try to get him farther anyway. his grip on your wrists tightens when you let out another one of your whines. he can tell that you’re trying to spit out a sentence but that you’re unable to based on the cockdrunkness you’re experiencing. all you manage to achieve is a “c-cumming” and even that comes out all whiney and in chris’s words ‘pathetic.’ “y’gonna cum? fuck yeah you’re gonna cum. come on, pretty. cum all over daddy’s cock.” he whispers into your ear, leaving a mark on your neck as he lets go of your hands. your orgasm takes over your body, and any control of yourself you had left is out the window. you squirm and shake while chris is just smirking behind you, continuing his thrusts. he pulls out once you’ve settled down, spurts of cum falling onto your ass and lower back.

chris isn’t an asshole. he helps you clean yourself up and look presentable enough to go visit your dad. he even offered to drive you, but you refused because of how close it was. the arrival at your dads house was… fine. his new wife was fine and his four year old son was fine. it was all just fine. you could tell your dad tried cheering you up multiple times but it never worked.

the next day was the same shit, different day. you had to get through the day acting like you liked your step mother, had to get through the day acting like you tolerated children, and had to get through the day acting like your father didn’t hurt you when he left 6 years ago. you’re half tempted to go to the airport just to go to the bar. a knock on the door catches your attention, only furthered when your dad calls out to you. “hey honey can you get that? that must be your brothers friend and his dad, we’re buddies!. i invited them over for lunch!” he yells, to which you comply to almost immediately.

you open the door slowly, your eyes adjusting to the brightness of the outside world. a breath gets stuck in your throat when you’re met with the same eyes you saw at the bar. chris, whose eyes are about to pop out of their sockets, covers his sons ears as he speaks for both of you. “shit.”

a/n: new au who cheered! i did! i did! i finally get to write for chris thank GAWD cause as a chris girl i sure write a lot for matt.

tags(reply or message to be added): @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @chrisscoraline @ayesha-eroticaa

[keferon]

Okaur I had to quickly write something for prowl getting sick cuz its so funny enjoy teehee

______

Prowl cupped Jazz close to his chassis, as close as he could as he turned and began running away from the aliens, managing to gain a good amount of distance between them and their hunters.

Jazz held onto the nooks and crannies in Prowl's chest to not fall, though the other squeezed him hard enough against the metal Jazz would most likely not fall. God damnit! The one time he doesn't bring his mecha..

Jazz had barely any time to process it when Prowl tripped.

He fell, pressing the servo closed over Jazz, catching himself best he could, turning quickly to catch the brunt of the fall on his back as they tumbled down to a small opening in the desert hills.

Jazz was still holding tight when the shaking and rattle stopped. He groaned a little from inside Prowl's closed servo, as Prowl quickly opened it and looked down at the other with concerned optics.

"Sshit- y'couldve warned me-" Jazz huffed, looking up to Prowl and then freezing, visibly enough for Prowl to notice.

"Are you okay?" Prowl questioned, blinking and then noticing a pink drip of energon drop down into his palm, Jazz barely managing to sidestep to not catch it on his helmet.

"Am I- bloody hell mech- are you okay?!"

Jazz questioned, grabbing to Prowl's chest and climbing up to the others face, Prowl supporting him a little with an unsteady palm.

"I feel-" Prowl vented.

He blinked, stuttering a little. Something sent shivers through his chassis, rattling underneath his plates. He tried to evaluate his situation but his processor only added more errors on top of already existing ones whenever he tried to reboot.

His processor might've been damaged, something might've been. He'd been sluggish during their stand-off with the aliens..

"I feel-" he felt warm, but not. Coolant rushing through his systems to fight off a virus, over-exerting his engine and motor functions. Prowl felt....giddy.

Jazz looked at the others face and then down at him as a whole. Prowl's vents were heaving, his armour plates moved in an uncomfortable tremble whenever he exvented, pink energon dripped out of the others nose.

Prowl snorted, which caught Jazz off guard as he looked back at the mech's face, his eyes wide.

"You're funny." Prowl mumbled. His eyes were dilating and shrinking, as he furrowed his optic ridge a little.

"Jazz- im going- to fall-"

He barely managed to cup his servo under Jazz to hold onto before his body slumped and fell back into the sand and dirt.

"Prowl! What the fuck- Prowl!" Jazz crawled quickly back onto the others chassis, staring at him.

"Whats wrong?! Whats happenin?! Were y'injured?" He questioned, staring down at Prowl's incomprehensible face. Was he- was he smiling???

Prowl was watching the other frantically scramble around himself, looking for injury or any other sign of an error.

"My spark.." Prowl mumbled out, making Jazz flinch so hard it sent whiplash through the others body.

Jazz climbed back to the chassis, looking at the other.

What- what what what?! Prowl's spark couldn't possibly be hurt could it?? Did an alien get a shot through his back????

"My spark...is yours.." Prowl cooed in a hushed voice, faceplates twitching in an uncharacterical grin.

Jazz's face sunk. Something was definetly wrong. "Whats goin' on, did y'get hit with somethin'??" Jazz mumbled, leaning down and trying to get the others chest open.

"You're the best thing thats ever happened too mee..." Prowl continued like Jazz wasn't the least bit concerned.

Jazz paused again, taking in a deep breath and looking at the other, even more quizzical than before.

"Yer talkin' like a drunk." Jazz thought out loud, leaning down to examine Prowl's face, which sent the other into a frenzy of giggles. Giggles. Giggles. Prowl was giggling at him.

Prowl smiled, optics half-shut, examining the others flustered, puzzled gaze just as Jazz examined his wide grin like it was a completely new face Prowl had just put on.

"You mmean...the woorlld...to meee.." Prowl giggled, slightly waving his servo slugglishly off the ground to exaggerate. He felt like laughing more, watching Jazz's face turn all shades of pink whenever he spoke.

"I'm callin' for Ratchet." Jazz declared, cheeks rose, kicking his foot very very gently on the others chest. "Open up."

-

Hhad to cut it short cuz I could just go on and on writing lmao (i need to goto sleep )

AUUUGGGHHAHAHAHAHHAHA OH THIS IS. PFFFFHHHHHHHHH YEAH MMMM YEP. THE SICK CLOWNERY. AMAZING~~~

[aquarelliwrites]

Saturdays

SHIP: Oscar Piastri x Reader

SUMMARY: He sleeps like the dead, but at least he's pretty while doing it?

CONTENTS: Fluff, use of you/yours, no use of Y/N, entirely self-indulgent

wc: 536

A ray of sunshine in your eyes is what wakes you up.

It's one of the rare days when both Oscar and you are free of obligations. One of the rare days when you wake up before him, and get to revel a little in the feeling of his arms wrapped around your waist, hugging you close to him; the feeling of his legs tangled with yours underneath soft blankets; the feeling of his face buried in the curve connecting your neck and shoulder, fanning it with small breaths.

You allow yourself to drift between consciousness and the abyss for a while longer.

„Osc.“ You whisper – and get no response. The man – your darling sweetheart, the light of your life, really – continues sleeping like he's a rock or perhaps a log. Repeating yourself a little more loudly gets you nothing more than a hum. „I need to get up.“

He replies this time, says something, surely, and the vibration of his voice against your skin spreads like wildfire all over your body. He is also, unfortunately, entirely incomprehensible.

„What?“ You laugh.

„What th' hell d'you need to get up for?“ The vice-like grip on you doesn't loosen as you hoped it would.

„Um, the bathroom?“

He groans and lets go of you, acting like it's the most effort he's ever had to put into any task, ever. You laugh, pressing a little kiss on his cheek before getting up.

„Oh, do that again.“ The corners of his lips tilt upwards with the plea. You can't help but oblige.

 When you return, you pause in the doorway to admire the way he managed to take up the entirety of the bed. The way his torso rises and falls rhythmically under the covers. The way his shoulders look – you could spend an eternity just gazing at the way the muscles in his back move. The way he's sleeping with his face in the crook of his elbow, hiding away from the sun.

He feels the mattress dip and moves his head ever so slightly to look at you, even if he therefore must endure the Sun's corona behind you. „S'too early, darling,“ he croaks, and you laugh softly before leaning down to press a kiss between his shoulder blades.

„You're right.“ And you lay back down with that, arm thrown over him in a looser cuddle than he had you in minutes ago. He revels in the warmth of your palm on his bare skin, in the dance of your fingertips all over his back, in the quiet that blankets you both for a little while.

„I say this too much, but I really love you,“ he whispers, mind on the edge of sleep.

„You could never say it too much. I really love you too, you know.“

„I know, you're so good to me.“ The visible part of his face is smiling again.

„Your standards are low, then,“ you tease, messing up his hair.

He looks seriously offended for a moment. Or about as offended as he can look while he drifts off. „How dare you say that about my girlfriend?“

You breathe a little laugh again, and your pointer finger draws a heart on his spine.

hey, sorry that I died for nearly 2 months? go for broke is still being worked on but I think I want to go in a slightly different direction with that than I originally thought, so that's going to be A While. alas we live i suppose

[shaisuki]

POSITIVE TEST RESULTS

ft. gojo satoru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, geto suguru

content warnings ─── pregnancy, babytrapping, noncon, dubious consent, stockholm syndrome, implied abuse, breeding kink, mentions of abortion, allusions to suicide. dead dove do not eat.

ᝰ synopsis .ᐟ a baby! the excitement and the incomprehensible joy they felt when they are expecting from you. a blessing or a curse? anyways, no matter what it is to keep you in place with them.

GOJO SATORU

the six eyes are everything. it can see the unknown and the forces that dwells that is invisible in the naked eye. satoru is grateful for the power he wield and it is the most useful in also keeping an eye on you. he knows it first before you can. the breath you take, the first step you make and the rhythm of your heartbeat. wether it was racing from the fear or the continuous pleasure he gives to you while he pumps his fingers into your tight hole.

there's nothing the six eyes he possess can't see and it's no different when he hears the first heartbeat of his child formed into your womb.

his child. he is having a child with you and satoru was over the moon when he found out.

long arms encased your soft form in his lap. your back in his chest while he hums a song. his lips ghosting on the expanse of your exposed shoulders. playfully nibbling on the skin when he hears the tiniest of whimper from you.

large palms drapes in your stomach. kneading the layered flesh like a cat making biscuits. satoru hums in delight. contented at this domestic bliss without too much fuss from you. you could be such a handful at times but it was fine to him. you were still adjusting to this life. a new environment for you and for him.

after numerous of escape attempts, he declares the staff and servants alike in the gojo household to be incompetent. it wouldn't happen if they were doing their job. he founds it useless and he took the matter in his own hand.

a penthouse to keep you. luxurious it was for one's taste. equipped with the latest security and glasses so thick that a bullet cannot dent it. money was no problem for it. gojo has an endless wealth to spend it especially for you. the safety and welfare of his wife always in the top of his priorities and it was worth every single penny of it. you cannot be bored taking the view of the city lights in the night time. overlooking the streets of tokyo.

pleasant it is but to you, beautiful the penthouse is but no matter how gilded it is, it is still a cage and you were the bird.

he breathes into your scent. it has been days since he touched you and satoru savors every second of it. your body a wonderland to him and he must be the only to explore it. satoru doesn't shy away from touching the parts that you didn't like. giving it the most of attention to prove it to you how much he loves it. particularly your stomach. lately, he's been obsessed with it. the talks of getting you pregnant and seeing you with child sparks the joy deep inside him.

satoru's patient. waiting for the result of the labor and love you both had poured in creating a life and he knows it is not that fast but he made sure you were properly bedded every chance he can get. now, all he had to do is wait. he may or may not been activating his technique to ensure you are with his child.

it happened in a blink of an eye when he first felt it. it was like an explosion of tiny molecules and forms into one. a dew rolling from a leaf and creating a ripple in calm waters. then he can hear the small “thump” of a heartbeat and you were rewarded by the sweetest of kiss and the next words he uttered were static in your ears.

“i'm not. it's my body. i'm the first one to know it.” you mutter. reasoning the most obvious truth and it was just a lie your ears want to hear.

“why would i lie to you, i can see and feel everything and that includes you, my wife.” he confidently counters to you. his voice never faltering in enthusiasm as he reveals the newfound joy to you.

your lashes are clumpy and the familiar stinging sensation makes way to your eyes. there is no way you will be carrying this man's child. you can't. you can't bear it. you can't carry this child. not with this man. you already feared the day it would come and now. you didn't realize the first drops of tears came cascading down you cheeks. placing your hand in your stomach and clutching the flesh like the fetus inside of you will magically disappear. this child wasn't even born yet and you're dreading you would become a mother to this one.

“don't cry, (y/n). i promised you didn't i? i will take care both of you.” he ever so sweetly convinced you to carry with this pregnancy and you felt manipulated again and then you were just a puppet.

“you've been a good wife to me. what's the difference of being a mother to our child.” he says, consoling you in his way that would only matter to him. you're carrying his child and as your husband and him being a father in the next months, you would be provided with the utmost care from him. starting on how he's going to worship this body of yours. pregnant and sensitive.

he's already kneeling in front of you. his blue eyes all of it's glory. staring at you with such adoration while he kisses the roundness of your stomach. pressing his cheek in the flesh. wanting to hear the faint thump of the heartbeat of his unborn child.

you tried to push him away. pressing your thighs together to avoid further ministrations from him but gojo effortlessly pried your thighs open. easily diving to get closer to you while his hands holds your wrist.

“satoru—ahhh” a moan accidentally slipping past your lips. his nose nudging the slit of your cunt before taking a lick from it. his hold on your wrist tighter as you tried to stop him.

“satoru, no—ahh” he chuckles. hearing you moan again and gojo takes pride of that. he ought to make you happy. furthermore increasing the success rate of you giving birth to a healthy son or maybe a daughter. frankly, he don't care. a child with you is better than none. a baby would eliminate all the problems he used to have with you and all the fuss will decrease.

such sweet cries for me, my adorable wife. he thought. your grip getting weaker the more his tongue laps up the slick coming out from your sweet cunt.

submit to him and let him do all the work. he did promise he will take care of you. for now, let him taste you. claim his reward for all the efforts.

you wouldn't deny him of his happiness, eh?

NANAMI KENTO

it's not everyday you can see a man with a built like nanami looms and searches from every rack of the pharmacy looking for a pregnancy test.

he's not getting his hopes up but rather ensuring that you are just fine and well though deep inside he's hoping that you are expecting. nanami had been dreaming of a domestic bliss lately. a child with you. hopefully one that looks and takes after you. he would be so happy.

nanami sighs, adjusting his glasses and shaking his thoughts of you being pregnant with his child. your welfare comes first before any others.

he's gone in the day before he comes home in the evening and the very first step he took in his home, he knew something was up.

the bathroom lights was on and there he sees your plush form kneeling in front of the toilet, spilling the contents of your stomach.

by the sound of his footsteps getting nearer he noticed how your body turned rigid.

“uhmmm.” flushing the toilet and standing up to turn on the faucet. letting the cold water run through the drain and wipe your mouth stained with vomit. trying to hide the evidence of you being sick.

“are you okay?” his stern voice cutting through the nervousness creeping up on you. large palms cupping your cheeks gently. you nod. “just a bit tired, actually. i'm going to bed.” you excused and with the furrows of your brows and that frown in your lips. nanami is sure what you're trying to hide.

he grabs a multiple of test kits. it's better to be sure before checking it out along with a few necessities for him to bring home.

when you see the pregnancy test kits being handed to you. you gave him a puzzled look. “i'm not. it's just the bug or something.” you reason to him. shielding yourself from the possibility of what he's implying.

“i know. better be sure than never, my love.” he managed to convince you and with that you took the test.

“why, ken? why would i be pregnant? i never missed taking the pills!” you asked him. sobs racking throughout your body as you look at the multiple pregnancy stick resting in the sink. all positive.

cruel and heartless and beyond him, nanami may or may not have tampered your pills. he never did intended to do this but lately you have been being stubborn than you are. his choices leading him to this unwanted pregnancy for you but to him he was happy. always wanted to be a good husband and a father to his child with you.

“accidents happen. we're in this together, okay?” it was never be fine with you. you can't be pregnant. “no—no!” your voice raising into a pitch. “i can't carry this child.” you could never. if kento was willing to shackle you with those cuffs, what's the difference it would be to your child. already chained to this man.

it took him a few minutes to fully calm you down. you're settled in the bed with him behind you. “i would be present throughout the duration of your pregnancy.” he assures you. bundling your hair in fist and putting it aside. kissing your nape and the gesture sending a shiver down your spine. “you are going to be a good mother.” peppering kisses to your shoulder blade and his other hand wanders until it reaches you belly. plump and squishy. in the next months it's going to be rounder and firmer. swollen with his child.

“i'm unfit to be a mother.” you whisper and nanami murmurs to your skin. “you're not.” pressing a tender kiss in the spot of your pulse in your neck. “i will harm this child.” you warned. “i will keep you confined to bed if needed then, but set aside those thoughts for me. i won't allow such things.” holding a firm hold to your jaw and then he whispers to you.

“allow me, my wife.” your body jolts in response. his index finger prodding your hole while rubbing your clit. “let me reward you for such wonderful news.” the gravel in his voice getting mellow. nanami won't allow you to harm yourself or the child you are carrying.

if it means of complete submission coming from you. nanami would not think twice of doing it over and over again. for now, he's happy you're gracing his home with a child. hopefully, it would take your mind off from the trivial things.

FUSHIGURO TOJI

it wasn't a surprise when toji received the news of you being pregnant. he did breed you well. mounting you every night like you were nothing but a fleshlight and his cumdump.

you were only given a raised brow and a cocky smirk coming from him. oh, how did he love the look on your face. scared and bothered of the reality of you being a mother to his child. toji wasn't that interested in becoming a father either but now it's a thrill. thinking of the ways he can control you without you resisting him.

“is that so?” he asks bored. disinterested even before breaking into a smirk. “now, you won't even think of opposing me.” patting your round belly in a degrading manner. once the spotlight for mockery and humiliation he used to hold you. “my brat spawning in to you. i did give you plenty of it.” he says amused.

a invisible leash wrapped around your neck for him to pull as he pleases. with the presence of the baby in your womb it looks like the future of yours is getting bleak with no hope for you along with the little one growing inside you.

it would curse you for being the mother and the father it will grow up with.

your body feels like lead. stuck in the mattress and every time you move, you sink deeper and maybe it was better until it swallows you whole. you wished it was that easy.

“spread your legs wider.”

you bite back a whimper. bile rising up in your throat as your body moves in autopilot. listening in what he orders to you. “geez, all those troubles i had to deal with and you're only this obedient when pregnant. maybe i'll just keep you pregnant all the time.” licking his lips before leaning closer to you. his breath in your ear.

there's a stinging sensation in your cunt while his cock slowly bullies inside you followed by a groan coming from him. his teeth nibbling in the shell of your ear and you bit your lip. silently taking him while he relishes on the feel of your tight hole spasming around his length.

“you're tight as ever. you don't mind me filling you up again, wife?” you remained silent. his power overwhelming you and toji chuckles. “then, don't mind me”

GETO SUGURU

there's been quite a commotion in his own little family and geto paid no mind to it. having a cult to run that requires his attention every now and then. seriously, stupid monkeys can't be trained without him and there's also those who can't keep their money running stable. quite trouble.

anyways he had to know what is causing those commotions that keeps everyone in high spirits. there he meet nanako and mimiko gushing over his chubby darling. seated in one of the chairs while the twins surrounds you. mimiko brushing your hair while the other twin, nanako holds your hand. soothing and assuring you of a situation he have yet to learn.

“geto-sama.” the twins greeted him. bowing their head a little before giggling a bit of the news they recently learned. “(y/n)-sama received news from the doctor earlier. they said she's expecting.” they broke to him and geto sees you in the corner of his eye uncomfortably shifts in your seat. “leave us.” he instructs the girls and they oblige. scurrying to leave the room in glee.

by the gods above, he worships you more. if only you knew that. it would be a weakness if he shows how much he adores you. he's in control. he's above you. you could never surpass that.

his lover on front of him shifts her gaze away from him and geto grasp your chin in his index and thumb finger. forcing you to meet his steely gaze in the purple abyss of his eyes. “i'm sorry.” you first speak up to him. biting your lower lip to hold a sob.

he can see you're scared. “what for?” he asks. searching for those gleaming eyes of yours, now misty. “for being pregnant.”

geto scoffs playfully at you. “there's nothing to be sorry. a wonderful news for us.” he assures you and you swallow the invisible lump in your throat. “is it?” you reply to him and he smiles. “it is.”

“i lay with you every night. made sure you are properly bedded by me.” no shame of that and there's a deep rumble of his laughter upon seeing your flustered expression. it's almost real how he looks so happy.

he is. when suguru decided to eradicate non-sorcerers he thought of how he's going to fill a country with sorcerers then you came to his life and he would be the creator of the new era. a bloodline. it would be his. yours and his. children that would carry his will and would be the part of a country where they are safe for him.

the news of you expecting. he can see the cogs being place to each of their respective places. already fulfilled.

his palms rough against your skin and yet it brings comfort to you. warmth. long gone he replaced the uneasiness in your heart with his and all the doubts you had of him. now, you're ready what he is about to make use of you. no questions. no qualms. all for him.

“you're mine.” he reminded you once again and you fall harder for him than the last time. “yours.” you whisper.

you were rewarded by a kiss. divinity touching you and warmth blooms all over you along with his hands wandering. to your round cheeks. squishing your chest and his palm in your round belly. imagining all the things he is already to do with your growing body with his child and geto is ecstatic.

his long and thick fingers finds the back of your obi and pulls the hem with no hesitation.

“mmm, suguru~” you mewl and geto smirks at how fast it takes for you to submit to him. “lay with me again tonight.” hands pinching to your supple flesh. fingers rubbing the spot between your legs and with a need. you grind your hips against them.

“as you wish.”

[noisynaia]

𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑰𝑺 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮

summary: The good old 'oh no, there's only one bed' trope.

pairing: Joel Miller x afab!reader 

word count: 3.8k 

note: Explicit (18+). Vaginal fingering, unprotected P in V, creampie. No use of (y/n). Nightmares. This has not been beta nor proof read and English is not my native language.

“Can you cut it out?” You sigh at the man who is currently and stubbornly laying on the hard floor next to the bed.    

It had been raining heavily for the entire day, the downpour so heavy that you couldn’t see more than a foot or two in front of you. All three of you were soaked to the bone and freezing. Spirit had been very low in your little travel group. Ellie had not come with her usual jokes and Joel had been even grumpier than usual so stumbling upon the little cabin had been a real stroke of luck. There had even been a dresser with enough dry clothes for all three of you to change into. 

You had given Ellie the couch in the living room since that was with the fireplace, leaving the single bedroom for you and Joel. 

“Just get up here. There’s plenty of space for the both of us.” You continue, cursing him and his damn stubbornness. The bed is not huge, but it will fit two people finely. 

“I’m fine down here. Trust me, I’ve had worse.” He just grumbles.  

You sigh, peeking your head over the edge of the mattress to look down at him. “I know you have a bad back and I need you to be well rested and alert, okay.” He tilts his head to look at you. “We both do…” You add, using Ellie to guilt trip him is maybe a little low, but you know it’s going to work and it is not like what you’re saying isn’t true. 

“Fine.” He finally sighs, as he gets up from the dusty floor, his knees creaking slightly before laying down next to you, but he doesn't get under the cover, instead laying straight on his back on top of the comforter with his arms crossed over his chest and eyes staring straight up at the ceiling.        

You want to tell him to just relax and get under the covers, but you don’t want to push your luck, so you just settle for the small victory of getting him into the bed, and who knows as sad as it makes you, maybe he really finds sleeping next to you more uncomfortable than the floor. 

You try not to dwell on that possibility too much, ashamed of how much that would affect you, so you just get comfortable under the covers instead. Turning to lay on your side, facing away from him as you close your eyes, but sleep doesn’t come to you.    

“Can I ask you something?” You whisper into the silent room, somehow knowing that he hasn’t fallen asleep yet. 

“Sure.” 

“It will never get easier will it? Living in this world… I tell myself that it will, that it is going to hurt less with time but… I’m just kidding myself, aren’t I?”

He doesn’t answer for a long time and you start to think that he may have fallen asleep before he finally breaks the silence. “No, I don’t think it will ever get easier.” A short beat of silence before he continues. “But I guess we can hope.” 

You sigh at his words. You really do hope so. The two of you are quiet again and you think he might have fallen asleep when he finally speaks again.  

 “Thank you.” Joel whispers into the darkness.

“For what?” You turn your head slightly towards him.  

“For tolerating my bullshit I guess.” 

It is the last words exchanged between you before sleep finally creeps up on the both of you. 

—

You wake up only a few hours into the night by the feeling of Joel’s frantic movements. He is tossing and turning uneasily and uttering incomprehensible muttered words. You turn around to face him, barely capable of making him out in the darkness of the room.

“Joel” You whisper, propping yourself up on your elbow, making you hover over him slightly. 

You watch the distressed look on his face, his eyes shut tight and his brows furrowed. Whispers of some terror make it out of his mouth. Your hand is hovering over his arm, unsure if he would be okay with your touch. But his nightmare seemingly continues. You frown and gently place your hand over his arm, softly rubbing the spot with your thumb.

“Joel.” You speak softly. “Wake up.”

You can feel how his whole body is shaking. He finally opens his eyes, letting out a gasp. His eyes wide and unfocused, clearly terrified of whatever he’d dreamed about, before they lock with yours and his gaze relaxes a little. 

“I’m sorry.” He mutters, his rapid breathing is slowly coming under control. 

“Don’t apologize.” You frown at him, your eyes are now better accustomed to the darkness and you can see his face more clearly. “I get them too.” You confess dropping your head back on the pillow.

“Do you need anything?” You ask, feeling him move slightly on the mattress.

“No.” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

Silence falls over you, the two of you just laying and listening to your own quiet heartbeats. 

“Why don’t you get under the covers?” You finally say, almost a little pleading.

And to your happy surprise he actually does. Joining you under the covers, even though he lays stiff as a board and way closer to the edge of the bed than he needs to. You can live with that, you are just happy that he at least can be a little more comfortable and warm. 

“Joel?”

“Yes?”

“You can talk to me, you know? If you ever need it”

A beat of silence. 

“Yeah… I know darling.” 

Darling. You think your heart skips a beat by the endearing name and you let out a sigh as you finally close your eyes again. “Goodnight Joel” 

“Goodnight.” 

—

You wake again in the early hours of the morning. It’s a slow ease into consciousness, a much gentler awakening than you normally get to have. Your eyes are still closed, and the only thing you currently perceive is the warm safe feeling of complete comfort, still half asleep, you haven’t registered what contributes to this feeling, how Joel is embracing you in his sleep. 

Comfortably wrapped in a blanket in a soft bed and feeling the heat of someone’s body against you is a luxury you haven't felt in a long time. The comforting feeling of soft human touch makes you melt into it, and crave it from the very marrow of your bones. You stir slightly, letting out a content sigh as you slowly get pulled out of your sleepy daze, and that is when you realize the position you are in.    

Your back is pressed up against Joel’s chest and his strong arm is wrapped around your waist. Your legs are entangled under the covers and his steady warm breath fans over the back of your neck. The two of you must have instinctively reached for each other in your sleep, the presence of a warm comforting body too irresistible, nuzzling you against himself in his sleep.

Your heart skips a beat at the gentle touch, feeling like you are going to cry from the overload of human touch. There is no way you’re gonna be able to part from his embrace without waking him, but maybe you should? Even though you really don’t want to. You feel slightly guilty as you lie and listen to his steady heartbeat

You want to be selfish for a little longer, savoring the warm comfort of Joel’s presence beside you, enjoying how it makes you feel. It feels too damn good after all the years of loneliness and fear. You can’t deny that you are feeling things for Joel. He is an attractive man, there is no doubt there, but there is more to it. The glimpses you have gotten of who he is behind the gruff facade, the man he must once have been, has made you yearn to get to know more of that side of him. The way he always makes sure you and Ellie are feeling safe. The way he over time has softened up a bit. How he sometimes will go along with Ellie’s shenanigans. How he will tell you that he will take the first night shift, but then never wake you so you get to sleep the whole night. You have scolded him for this numerous times, but he still does it whenever he senses that you are just a little more tired than usual. 

You try to ease out of his embrace without waking him, but it only results in him hugging you tighter, pressing you closer towards him as he lets out a dissatisfied grunt like his subconscious wants you close. And it is now, as you are being pressed tighter up against him that you feel it, the press of his hard cock against the curve of  your ass. You let out a little gasp, as a hot shiver travels from your abdomen down to your now throbbing cunt.

You know that it’s just a physical reaction to have a body this close, he didn’t even want to share the bed with you in the first place, but you had insisted on it. As much as you dread having to face him in this position, you really should wake him.   

“Joel.” You whisper, moving your hand over the arm he has around you, gently brushing your fingers over the warm skin, waiting for him to wake. He stirs a little against your touch, but he does not loosen his grip on you. You hold your breath, feeling your pulse throb in your ears as you wait for a reaction. You just hope this won’t make him go back to being as closed off with you as he was in the beginning. You take a deep breath to brace yourself before you turn around in his grip so the two of you are laying face to face. Your movement seems to finally have pulled him out of his sleep. His eyes start to blink slowly as he is pulled out of his slumber, he murmurs your name, voice rough and raspy from sleep and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

His eyes are finally opening to look into yours, the warm umber of his irises is so beautiful, you have never seen them this near. His face is so close. You can see every detail, every crease and he is so damn gorgeous. Your mouth is so close to his, it would be so easy to just lean in and connect your lips in a kiss. You feel Joel’s body stiffening as he realizes the position the two of you are in, and you are scared that he will bolt out of the bed and leave you cold and alone, but he doesn’t. The two of  you are simply laying in silence for a long moment, looking at each other in the dim room, both of you engulfed by the other, but you finally collect enough composure to break the silence between you.

“Good morning.” You whisper into the quiet bedroom. 

“Morning.” His voice is so deep and still rough from sleep. It makes your stomach do a flip. Maybe it is just wishful thinking but you swear that his eyes swift down to your lips for a second. Maybe it’s just time to be brave? You reach your hand up toward his cheek, letting your palm hover about half an inch from his skin. You want him to decide for himself if he is comfortable with your touch. Fortunately, after only a short moment of hesitation, he leans into your hand, exhaling as your palm cups his cheek. You kind of expect him to pull away any minute, but he doesn’t. 

“I haven’t slept this well in a long time.” You confess.  

“Me neither.” You have never heard his voice this soft before and that is when it dawns on you. This is Joel Miller. Not the man that has had to survive in a world with no hope, or the man that has lost everything that made him whole. Right now you are looking into the eyes of the man he once must have been. And maybe right now you’re the woman you were meant to be, the woman you would have been if your future hadn’t been torn away from you by the collapse of the world. There is something magnetic about it. Like the two of you are being pulled together by an invisible force, drawn together in the early morning bliss, both of you learning into earth other. Your lips brush, a ghost of a touch. He shivers but he is  still not pulling away. 

“Can I?” He whispers, his soft breath fanning over your lips. 

“Please.” You manage to croak out, your entire body buzzing with anticipation.  

It is all he needs to hear before he crashes into you, his chapped lips colliding with yours. It has been too long since you have felt the firm pressure of a man’s mouth on yours. You kiss until your lungs start to burn, and you have to pull away to catch your breath. His hand moves down to the hem of your shirt, his fingers ghosting over the warm skin beneath it.    

“Is this okay?” He asks, sounding a little unsure. 

“Yes, Joel.” You assure him. “Kiss me.” You add and he does, sliding his hand under the cotton of your shirt palming the soft skin of your side. You moan into his mouth as his tongue meets yours. You kiss until you no longer know where he starts and you end and you are almost convinced that the two of you have melded into one being.  

“You’re driving me crazy.” He pants out as he finally breaks the kiss. All you can manage is to whimper in response as he moves his lips to your throat, licking and kissing a trail to the side of your neck. His hand slowly slides down from your side to the hem of your pants. 

“Do you want me to stop?” He murmurs into the skin just below your ear, before sitting up just slightly to look into your eyes. 

“No.” You shake your head slightly. “Please don’t stop, Joel.” 

You roll your hips a little, grinding against his strong thigh, needing him to understand how badly you want this. Something flickers in his eyes and he lets out a filthy guttural groan, flipping you over so you're laying under him.    

Your entire body is aflame by his touch, a feral urge for more. More skin, more contact. So you move onto his shirt. The material slightly withered and moth-eaten from the years of being tucked away in a drawer. You pull it off him, revealing his broad upper body. You pause, captivated by the look of him hovering over you. The scars across his skin, the sparse hairs trailing down from his navel to his pants.    

You wonder if he shaking because he’s cold or if he’s really just that eager for your touch. But it doesn’t really matter, either way, you’ll warm him up.

He slides his calloused fingers over the sensitive skin of your thighs, hooking them in the waistband of your panties, looking into your eyes. You nod at him, mouthing a ‘please’, spreading your legs a bit further. It is all he needs, an expression of filthy desire flickers over his face as he pulls your underwear down. Letting out a gasp as your soaked pussy gets exposed in front of him. His fingers slide along the insides of your wet lips. 

“Shit, you’re so wet. All this just for me?” He almost coo.

“Yeah. All for you, Joel.” 

“Wanna feel you come on my fingers.”   

“Fuck, want that too.” You whimper.                

He gives you a smile, dipping his head down to your shoulder, nuzzling his nose against the crook of your neck before kissing the soft skin under your ear. He makes sure to coat his fingers in your wetness before he begins to tease your clit. You let out a little gasp as he starts to draw slow light circles, but it doesn’t take long for him to pick up his pace and add a bit of pressure.

He teases your entrance, making sure to coat his fingers in your slickless before he slips one of his thick fingers into you. Another is soon added and you sigh at the sensation. He slowly pumps into you at first, giving you time to adjust to his digits, but he is soon picking up the pace.  

“That’s right darling.” He mutters against your neck. “Taking my fingers so well.”

He is going fast now, using his middle and index finger to fuck you while the ruff pad of his thumb is pressing on your clit and you can’t help but let out a few pathetic whines. He is hitting a perfect spot, so deep inside of you, and you feel your orgasm approaching, finally falling over the edge when he curls his fingers. 

“That’s right, just like that.” Joel groans as you clench around his fingers, slowing his pace slightly but still  pumping you through your orgasm in a steady rhythm. “Just like that, darling, doing so well.”

He lets you ride out your climax on his fingers until he finally pulls out of you, popping them into his mouth, sucking off your juices with a pleasant moan.    

“Fuck, Joel.” You pant out as you finally come down from your amazing high. 

“Good?” He asks, a sly smile on his lips. 

“Really good.” You ensure him, cupping his cheek with a gentle hand. “Want to make you feel good too.” You whisper, looking deeply into his eyes.

“Fuck, darling. I want to feel you so bad.” He confesses.  

“Want that too. Fuck, want that so bad” You pant, letting your thumb slide over his cheek as you admire his handsome face. And you do want him, but more than that, you need him.

He lifts himself from you to strip off his pants and underwear. Your eyes widen at the view of him. His hard cock springs free, throbbing and thick, laying heavy in his palm as he takes himself in his hand. It still looks huge, even in his big hand, so you can’t even imagine how enormous it will look in your smaller one. He pumps himself a few times before leaning down over you again. He guides his cock to your entrance, looking at you for permission, which you give with an eager nod, before slowly pushing inside you, stretching your pussy to its limits the deeper he goes. You feel so full, like he is splitting you open with his thick girth. You whimper as you take more and more of his cock until he is all the way in. 

“Fuck darling, you’re so warm, so fucking tight around me.” He groans before leaving a firm kiss on your lips. The two of you are laying like this for a little while, letting you adjust to his size until you can’t take it anymore. 

“Move.” Your voice is low and rasped. “Please.”   

With that, he lifts your legs, making you cross them around his lower torso as he pulls out of you, achingly slow until only the head of his cock is still inside of you before inserting all of it again in one fluid motion. You let out a gasp of pleasure. 

He starts out with a slow rhythmical pace. He is giving you sweet praise at first, then progressively dirtier, more lustful comments as he loses himself more and more, his thrusts getting faster and more desperate. He lets out a throaty groan as your hands grab his hair. The way he is now pounding his cock into you, deep and purposefully, makes you cry out in pleasure, your ears filling with his growls and moans. 

“Feeling so so good…” He says his eyes clenched tightly shut as he keeps thrusting into you with a savage speed. “I knew you would feel good, but damn.” He groans through gritted teeth. Joel is now moving with an urgency that has you seeing stars and you let out a cry of pleasure. 

“Shhh.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your lips to quiet you.  Ellie is, unlike you and Joel, a deep sleeper, but you would both be mortified if she heard the two of you, not wanting to traumatize the poor girl. 

“You are taking me so well.” He encourages. “So fucking good.” 

Your arms are desperately clinging to his back. His balls are hitting your skin and his cock is pounding into your soaked pussy, making a filthy squelching noise hit your ears. 

The pressure is beginning to build up in your lower stomach, the feeling is making your head go dizzy. He is bringing you closer and closer with every strong thrust of his cock.

“I-fuck… I'm close.” You babble. 

The knot in your stomach tightens and tightens until it all explodes inside you. Your walls clench down around him, sucking him in. You desperately cling to him as your climax washes over you, hands on his neck as you guide his mouth down to yours, you need him to kiss you through this. Your breasts are being squeezed against his chest, the feeling of his skin against your sensitive nipples makes you moan into his mouth.  

You whine out as you feel the warmth of his release filling you up. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” He detaches from your mouth. The panic from cumming inside you is clear on his face. He pulls out, some of his load landing on your stomach, but most of it still inside of you, the sudden empty feeling makes you let out a little whine. 

“Shit, I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have—” 

You know that he is right, he really shouldn’t have done it, but you can’t get mad at him you had been just as caught up in the feeling of him as he had been in you. You finished your cycle only a couple of days ago so you should hopefully be okay. 

You cup his cheek, planting a soft kiss on his lips. “I think we should be okay, just don’t make a habit of it.” You grin at him. 

He visibly relaxes at your words “I’ll make sure to pull out next time.” He assures you and your stomach flutters. Next time. You smile at his words.   

“How do you feel?” He asks. 

“Good.” You laugh lightly, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I liked seeing this side of you.”

He sighs as he pulls you close. His chest vibrates against you as he speaks. “You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?” 

[bloodblanks]

one umbrella cover two [mr. scarletella x reader] — chapter vii.

Your interactions with the entity holding you captive begin to escalate.

note: reader is not player (mc).

author’s note: dead dove: do not eat. this fanfiction will contain dark and explicit content, including heavy dub-con, stockholm syndrome, violence, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

<- previous chapter

My human.

From the very second he laid eyes on you, he knew you were his. While you were gifted to him by the woman in a raincoat, that fact alone had little influence on and could not even begin to encapsulate his desire for you.

He had a clear recollection of the moment he found you. You had been injured by the aforementioned woman, sanguine, exquisitely oozing out of the wound on your head. The sight of blood spilling down your delicate features was one he’d never forget, the image having been seared into his mind. You were so, so lovely. A hint of colour against the dull monochrome building; a singular rose blossoming in the dead of winter.

Pretty.

You were just as beautiful now as you had been upon your first meeting, if he could call it that. Though he had adored the way the fresh steaks of red glistened on your skin, he did not find you any less enchanting, even with the blood having dried and crumbled away.

You were truly a gift for him, and he’d cherish you as such.

Which is why he failed to understand your reaction, disagreeing and arguing with him about not having been given to him.

Despite his mild frustration at your incomprehensible response, he wouldn’t get angry with you. You were already afraid of him for some unknown reason, and he didn’t want to exacerbate that fear. Instead, he’d try his best to explain to you the situation. You had no reason to be frightful of him; he’d take good care of you.

Human not communicate. Me worry.

For a moment, you were unresponsive, leading him to worry that you would continue to protest. But then you slowly nodded your head at him.

Human understand. You understand me.

Me happy, he thought. Grateful.

He was unable to do anything but smile, grinning widely from cheek to cheek at your acceptance. You had accepted his desire to take care of you. You had accepted being his gift. You had accepted him.

“You want me.” His statement came out plain and simple, uttered more to himself than to you.

Eyes pretty.

You didn’t refuse him, however. You merely glanced at him with wide eyes, eyes that reflected away all the dreariness of this place with the utmost brilliance. He simply allowed himself a moment to gaze into them, admiring the way they glimmered.

You nodded once again, such a small, slow tilt of your head that he almost failed to catch it.

Human want me. You want me.

“You want me,” his smile widened. “You want me, you want me...”

He feverishly chanted those words, as if each repetition was a stronger confirmation of your feelings than the last.

His heart throbbed, an aching pulse that pulverized him from the inside. While the words existed in his language, he never understood them—not until now. What was once a foreign concept to him now became all too present and all too real.

He craved you with a primal need that swirled deep in his viscera, longing for you in ways he only just now began to comprehend.

And you wanted him too.

Want me.

Just that simple fact was enough for his chest to rumble with tremendous force, the world inside his heart shifting much like the larger expanse he resided in.

Want have human. Want touch.

You were here looking at him still with doe eyes, the sight only further amplifying his desire. As the urge to have you filled his mind, he reacted accordingly by reaching out to you. His fingers brushed against your hair with the intention of stroking it, but you instantly flinched away from him.

Head damaged, head hurt, he suddenly remembered.

He couldn’t run his fingers through your hair, but that did little to diminish his coveting for you. Instead, he settled for touching your face, his fingers tracing along your forehead, your cheeks, your jawline. When they trailed over your lips, he realized he preferred touching them over the rest of your face.

He brushed his fingers over your lips a few more times and each time he did, he yearned for you a bit more than the last.

Want mouth touch.

He wasn’t sure where that thought came from. It was unfamiliar, yet somehow, it felt natural. There was an aspect about the gesture of touching your mouth with his that made it seem different from doing so with his hands. He wasn’t sure why that was, but it was intriguing, this newfound concept.

Slowly, he moved his index finger between your lips, gently pushing them apart. Your lips were a bit damp there, something he found strangely inviting. He wanted to bring his mouth to yours, he wanted to feel your lips against his—and you wanted him, so you wanted this too.

“Want you,” he said, his voice softer than usual, yet filled with fervour.

Want you. He looked at you for a moment longer, before he followed his instincts, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.

Pleasant.

Your mouth was astonishingly warm, all molten heat and liquid velvet against his own. So soft, so alluring, so inviting. It was a sensation that felt oddly familiar, stirring up something in his chest that he couldn’t quite place his finger on. He didn’t pay it much mind, instead enjoying the feeling of your mouths touching in a way that was all too intoxicating.

Me you together.

In that very moment, with his lips encapsulating yours, the two of you were connected. He liked that.

He liked the togetherness, wanted more of it as he tried moving his lips against yours, hoping you’d do the same. To his own surprise, he found himself disappointed at your lack of reaction. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but he wanted more than just this. He craved you with an aching need, desperately longed for more of you. He wanted to feel you against him, he wanted you.

Still, you were inanimate, leading him to wonder why. He reasoned that you were likely new to this, much like he was. Perhaps you didn’t know what to do, or maybe humans had a different way of expressing desire. He wasn’t sure, but he knew he should be patient with you and give you time to get accustomed to this. He would be gentle with you. He would take good care of you and show you that you had no reason to fear him. He would treasure you as his gift. He would express how much he craves you.

He pulled away briefly so he could speak.

“Together,” he mumbled. “Me like.”

Your eyebrows scrunched slightly, your parted lips—now faintly glistening—pressing together into a frown. His own eyes widened in shock; was there something wrong?

“You hurt?” he tentatively asked, a myriad of concerns welling up in his chest. “You okay?”

Human upset. Not know why.

Your frown seemed to deepen, your eyes glazing over with moisture that confused him greatly. He waited patiently for you to respond. After a long moment of silence, you finally uttered a singular word.

“Hurt,” you reluctantly stated.

“Why?” His response was instant. He had been so careful with you. He was aware you were fragile, and he treated you like such. It was hard to imagine he had hurt you in some way.

“Hungry,” you answered. He briefly wondered if there was more to it than just hunger, but he realized then that you had told him about needing food quite some time ago. It made sense. It made sense, but he found himself wishing that wasn’t the case. He wanted to continue what he was doing with you; he wanted to keep enjoying the feeling of togetherness that he experienced with you. But he said he’d take care of you, and that meant ensuring you didn’t go hungry.

He nodded his head, pulling back from you and reaching over to give you the box that you claimed was consumable. You gingerly took it from him, pausing for a moment before a small smile formed on your face.

Human happy. Me like.

“Thank you,” you said. For a second, he was awestruck—the way your lips curved upwards made his heart throb tenderly in his chest. He instinctively put a hand on his own chest, though nothing about it felt different.

Heart change? Not know.

“Welcome,” he muttered, his voice almost breathy.

—

As you chewed on the granola, you found a variety of thoughts coming to mind. At the forefront, you found yourself thinking the granola was extremely delicious. You had not had granola this tasty before. That’s what hunger does to people, you supposed.

In the back of your mind, you found yourself wondering just where exactly your current circumstances would place as far as the misfortune side of the misfortune-complaining matrix went. You had thought being kidnapped and held captive by a ghostly entity was a seven. Being kidnapped, held captive, and kissed by said monster, however—that should probably rank higher, right?

The concerning part was your uncertainty about that point. It should rank higher. In anyone’s sane mind, it would be worse. But somewhere in the very back of your mind, hiding in the shadowy, dark recesses, was the realization that you didn’t find it repulsive.

It was most definitely strange; there was no doubt about that. No matter how you looked at or thought about it, kissing an inhuman creature was an abnormal thing. The very experience was bizarre, from the coldness of his lips, to the stiffness of his movements, and to, well, the fact that he wasn’t human.

Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate it. If you were being fully honest with yourself, the kiss was... fine. Not how you would imagine a kiss to happen, but nonetheless not displeasing.

Perhaps you had gone insane in the short time span of being here—you weren’t sure. You most definitely felt like you were losing your mind as you ruminated over the kiss.

You had only gone along with it because you didn’t want to upset him, and yet, you couldn’t help but feel extremely flustered about it.

It’s just a kiss, you told yourself. He probably doesn’t even understand how it works.

Your thoughts did little to convince yourself that you were not becoming mad. The ever watchful gaze of the red umbrella man was still on you, increasing the discomfort and awkwardness that you felt. You found yourself shying away, eyes fixated on your lap, on the granola bar that you had stopped chewing, on everything besides him.

“You okay?” He suddenly interrupted your thoughts to ask a question.

“C-Correct,” you stammered, slightly caught off guard. You didn’t know how exactly to say you were okay, so you settled for the closest word you knew. The language barrier still proved to be endlessly frustrating, even with the help you received from Mr. Silvair.

The red umbrella man touched his hand to your cheek, the unexpected movement causing a startled jump.

“Face hurt?” he questioned. You thought his question over before responding.

“Face hurt,” you agreed, lying through your teeth much like you did earlier. You hoped he wouldn’t notice; the sparseness of the language should be enough to cover for any unusualness on your part.

“You ▮▮▮▮?”

You knew Mr. Silvair used that word when speaking to the red umbrella man, but you didn’t quite know what it meant.

“Not understand,” you replied. You weren’t as hungry anymore, but you chewed on your granola bar anyway, hoping it would save you from further conversation.

He didn’t talk after that. You finished your granola bar in silence, its wrapper soon joining the other packaging that you had discarded into the box, using it as a temporary trash can.

A wave of exhaustion washed over your body all at once, the adrenaline from the day’s events finally all wearing off. You could feel a mild ache in your head still, causing you to frown.

You glanced at the red umbrella man, who had been soundlessly observing you—very much unsettling behaviour—and back at the bed, where a small pillow was. It didn’t appear that he planned on letting you go anytime soon. You decided that you might as well rest now. Maybe once you recover some energy, you would be able to find a way out, though having to go through those terrifying rooms again was not something you looked forward to.

You let out another vexed exhale before sliding your shoes off and crawling into bed.

“You ▮▮▮▮?” The red umbrella man—which you were getting tired of mentally using—asked again. The word must mean ‘rest.’

“Correct,” you nodded. “Me rest.”

—

Human need rest. Human weak. Cute.

He didn’t understand the exact sleeping needs of a human yet, but considering how you woke up not long ago, you needed to sleep much more than he did.

His needs for rest were mostly limited to his mind. His body rarely needed any fuel; besides the occasional meal and fluid, he required little else. However, silencing his mind was a different matter.

It wasn’t a thing he needed often, but it was more constant than his need for consumption and physical rest. Every here and there, he slept in order to give his mind a break. Continuous thinking proved to be bothersome after a lengthy enough period, and so he would refresh himself by shutting down temporarily.

Human rest. Me take care.

As you made yourself comfortable in bed and lied down, you reached to pull the covers over yourself. The covers were just slightly too far away, which he noticed when you were about to sit up again.

Quickly, he reached for the covers himself, gently tugging it over your body. Your eyes opened in surprise, but as he rested the fabric on your shoulders, you seemed to relax.

Human happy. Me like. A lot like.

You raised your head slightly to look at him before smiling, seemingly content. The organ in his chest fluttered once again, an unsettling sensation. He looked down to examine his torso—nothing was wrong.

Not understand, he thought.

It didn’t matter too much, however. Your mouth was curved upwards in the most delightful way, and he felt the urge to touch it with his own, but refrained. He would take care of you and allow you to sleep first.

“Goodnight,” he couldn’t help returning your smile. Yours faltered for a slight second before you let out a nervous laugh.

Pleasant.

“Goodnight,” you repeated back to him.

You snuggled into the pillow, seemingly comfortable in the bed. He felt proud of having taken good care of you, like he decided he would.

Your eyelids fluttered briefly, but just when he thought you’d fallen asleep, you abruptly opened them.

“You have name?” you unexpectedly inquired.

He opened his mouth, about to tell you that he didn’t, when a sharp, buzzing static pierced through his skull. 

next chapter ->

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thank you everyone for reading and supporting my work! (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

[blindmagdalena]

Guilty Pleasures ( chapter two )

18+ 3.8k homelander x plus size f!reader. workplace harassment, stalking, voyeurism, masturbation, lite humiliation kink, lite somnophilia, breaking & entering, petty theft, sublander flavored. nebulously takes place post s1. part 2/4. AO3 link. | Chapter Directory

Homelander is the most powerful man in the world, and all he wants is to be yours.

After spending the majority of your evening and the following morning anticipating being fired, walking into work the next day feels like traversing a thinly frozen lake, each step webbing out in precarious cracks.

Clearly you’re not the only one who thinks so: you clock a handful of surprised looks from coworkers who’d attended the meeting and took note of the tension between you and Vought’s golden boy.

Maybe they’d taken bets on whether or not you’d be coming in this morning.

There’s no sign of Homelander on your way in. Not that you were expecting him–yesterday was the first time you actually saw him in person–but you still find yourself on the lookout. It’s hard to say whether you’re anticipating or dreading him. Part of you is still expecting to open your door and find a letter on your desk politely informing you that they’ve determined you aren’t a good “culture fit” for the company, and that your probation has been terminated.

After all, who in their right mind would take your side over Homelander’s?

You push open your office door, and sure enough, there is a letter waiting for you, but not in the way you expected. You stand in the doorway, staring in quiet incomprehension. The envelope, crisp and bright white, is propped up in a bed of rich red roses sitting in a pretty vase upon your desk. You glance behind you before you step inside, closing the door behind you, and approach the desk cautiously. You pluck the paper out of the bouquet, taking a moment to smell the flowers–they smell as good as they look–before you carefully rip open the envelope, tearing the small american flag sticker that sealed it.

Inside, there’s only one word on the folded piece of paper, scrawled in surprisingly elegant handwriting.

Truce?

You can’t help the incredulous little bark of laughter you give at that. It’s not even an apology. It’s a demand that he expects a gratuitous bundle of flowers will help you swallow, like taking medicine with a spoonful of sugar.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say quietly to the letter, setting it down on your desk. You give the roses one last sniff, testing one of the soft petals between your fingers. You wonder if what you said actually got through to him.

Homelander has no real reason to smooth things over with you: you’re no one. He’s posed no risk to himself by coming after you. He could no doubt have you fired by complaining that your marketing tactics don’t align with his brand. It’s hard to imagine Vought denies him much.

Yet he is apparently negotiating peace. It’s not nearly enough, but it is a start.

Or maybe it’s just more than you expected.

You sit, idly tapping the letter against your desk. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t still think him handsome. Homelander wasn’t the first man to ogle your tits while you gave a presentation, but he was certainly the first to fluster you like that when he did. His sly smile had made you want to slap him, but there was a questionable little part of you that thought about kissing it better afterwards.

Taking in a steadying breath, you slip the letter into your desk drawer and adjust the flowers to the side, admiring them a moment before you pull out your laptop.

If Homelander can behave himself enough to let you do your job without public humiliation, you can afford a truce. You don’t need to forgive or condone him to be civil, or even to continue having your own private fantasies. A little guilty pleasure now and again never hurt anyone.

You can’t know that Homelander is observing you throughout this internal conversation, watching through several layers of steel and concrete, his parted lips curving into a slow smile as you accept his offering. You can’t know that you haven’t just acknowledged a truce, but an invitation.

No, you can’t possibly know what’s to come.

Two days later, you diligently change the water that the roses in your office sit in. They’re doing well, the crimson buds having unfurled into a splay of velvety petals. You pinch one between your thumb and forefinger and stroke it absently. Homelander has continued to be a scarcity, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t seen him. Quite the opposite: you spend most of your working hours either looking at or thinking about his face to the point where it’s starting to follow you home each day.

That’s what you tell yourself when you think of him outside of work hours, anyways.

It’s been long enough now that you wonder if the flowers were the end of it. He was simply covering his ass with a half hearted gesture that slightly resembled an apology so that you could both comfortably drop the subject. That was entirely fine by you so long as he actually did improve his behavior.

A familiarly brisk knock at your door catapults your heart up against the cage of your ribs like a spooked hare. It’s the exact same beat, you’re sure of it. You stay quiet, half expecting to be barged in upon, but when nothing happens, you move from your desk and open the door yourself, intentionally blocking it with your body.

Sure enough, Homelander stands tall on the other side. He flashes his signature smile while your eyes narrow suspiciously. “Can I help you?”

“I think I’m the one who can help you,” he says brightly, that spread of teeth downright wolfish. He lifts a handful of papers that have been stapled at the corner, gesturing for you to take it.

Still wary, you take them from him and shift, wedging your foot to keep the door firmly in place while you flip through the pages. Your brows furrow as you recognize chunks of your own presentation. Understanding dawns when you realize that he’s annotated them.

“You read my presentation,” you say, unable to mask your surprise.

“Obviously. It’s my image on the line, right? Got some notes for you, but I have to say: y’mostly nailed it,” he says, reaching out to rest a gloved hand on the doorway.

“Mostly?” You echo, quirking an eyebrow at him as you look up from the pages.

“Yeah, mostly. Again, I have some minor notes,” he says, wiggling his other hand in a vague gesture. “But I figure I owe you praise on a job mostly well done.”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Crossing your arms, you abandon your stern foothold on the door in order to shift your weight, your incredulity showing in every inch of your body language.  “What you owe me is an apology.”

Homelander’s grin softens into a smile that’s no less challenging. “Looks to me like you’ve already been enjoying my apology,” he says, leaning slightly to gaze past you, to the bundle of roses sitting prettily on your desk.

You briefly glance over your shoulder, but your expression remains impassive. Unimpressed. “That? That isn’t an apology. An apology would include the words I’m sorry.”

He scoffs a dismissive laugh, swaying back to look away, but you persist.

“I’m serious,” you say, luring his ocean blue gaze back to yours. “I want you to say to me ‘I’m sorry for the way I behaved during your presentation. It won’t happen again.’ “

The two of you hold each other’s gaze with all the magnitude of two gunmen in a duel, hands steady over your proverbial pistols. 

To your surprise, Homelander does not fire back. He raises a dainty white flag.

“I’m sorry for the way I behaved during your presentation,” he says, words slow and measured. You watch his tongue flash over his bottom lip, wetting it attractively. You fight to not let your eyes linger on it. “It won’t happen again.”

You swallow, suddenly finding thought and speech an impossible task. You weren’t prepared for such raw, ready obedience from him, nor the intensity in his gaze that follows it. He reminds you of a charmed snake–docile so long as he is transfixed.

“Good,” you say, the word half a sigh. Homelander’s lips part and he breathes in like he’s caught wind of something particularly delicious smelling. “I accept your apology, and I appreciate that you took the time to do this,” you say, gesturing with the documents in your hand. “I’ll go over them and get back to you.”

He reaches out, bracing his hand on your office door. You half expect him to push it open, but he merely holds it there. “We could go over them together,” he suggests slyly.

“No,” you say, clearly disarming him. He looks as though he’s forgotten the meaning of the word. “I’m in the middle of another project at the moment.”

The leather of his gloves creaks faintly in your ear as he flexes his grip on the edge of the door. While what you’ve said is true, it’s also serving as a test. Words and flowers are pretty things, but only actions always speak the truth.

“At the moment,” he repeats, gears visibly turning in his eyes. “So… Later?” He extrapolates, displaying an uncharacteristic tentativeness alongside his obvious displeasure at the taste of rejection. You even see a glimmer of hope in the mess of his expression.. 

He did pass the test. You suppose you can reward him for that.

“Another time,” you say, giving your door an exploratory push. He relents, his hands sliding down the length of it before falling away as he takes a half-step back. “How about tomorrow on my lunch break? 1:00 o'clock sharp.”

He splits into a smile that looks more genuine than any of his you’ve seen before. “Aaalrighty-roo. Sounds gooood to meeeee,” he says, drawing out his vowels more the closer he gets to actually having to leave. At your silent, amused stare, he claps his gloved hands together with a muffled thump! and takes a few more steps backwards. “Yooooou’ll see me… tomorrow.”

Your smile pinches along with your brows. What a strange way to phrase it. “See you then,” you say, watching as his face is eclipsed by your closing door. You wait a beat and then let out a thin thread of breath from your pursed lips, resting your weight on the door.

Looking down at the papers in your hand, you push off from the door and head to your desk, flipping through them.

Such a strange man, you think, carrying the notes to your desk. You set them down next to the vase of roses and try not to think too much about the unconscious smile your lips keep settling into for the rest of the day.

Homelander’s got you hook, line and sinker. He’s certain of it. He lingers on the other side of your door just long enough to watch you through it while you settle, a charmed smile set on your lips. He can already imagine how those lips would feel against his own, how they’d taste. He swallows thickly and looks around before he departs, already plotting his next move.

The two of you have a date tomorrow, and in order to be at the top of his game, he’s going to have to do a little additional research. Knowing your work was a good first step. The next one will be learning about you.

Following you home is the easy part. It ultimately feels chivalrous to do so once he realizes you walk home even at this time of year, when the sun sets long before the work day ends. He drifts above you, cocking his head curiously. No wonder you walk. The streets are packed as tightly as sardine cans, and your apartment garage isn’t much better. The claustrophobia of it all serves as a stark contrast to the openness of Vought tower.

The interior of your apartment provides an even sharper juxtaposition to his penthouse. It’s tidy, but the comparatively low ceilings and minimal floor space still make it look cramped. Somehow, you simultaneously have too much and yet not much at all, the confinement of a downtown apartment making what minimal affects you do own seem crowded together.

That only becomes more apparent once he’s inside, slipped in through your balcony after sleep has taken you. Why would you bother to lock your balcony when you live on the 8th floor? It works out perfectly for him.

In all fairness, your living room feels cozier once he’s standing in the center of it. Your walls are lined with an assortment of art pieces and photographs, and the shelves are well stocked with books and knick-knacks. You have a decent film collection displayed on your media console, and he can’t help but snoop through it, bending at the waist, examining through the rows. He cocks his head.

Odd. You’d think an employee of Vought would have at least a few VCU films. He runs his index finger along the spines, slightly adjusting them flush as he goes. Pursing his lips, he straightens up and looks at the closed cabinets on either side. The left one yields an untidy assortment of electronic odds and ends, cords and the like. Nothing of much interest other than an indication that while you like to keep up appearances, you aren’t quite as together as you’d like people to think. 

It’s on the right side, however, he finds what he’s really looking for.

“Bingo,” he whispers, smiling to himself as he scopes out your little hidden collection of Vought hero flicks. Specifically, his films. He’s less interested in the handful of others you own (Queen Maeve: Her Majesty, Black Noir: Insurrection, Lamplighter: The Bright World, etc) and more so in the fact that you have nearly his entire catalog tucked away. 

Nearly. You’re missing his eighteen part miniseries, Homelander: Brightest Night.

At least that gives him something to gift you.

Closing the cabinet, he meanders about the rest of your apartment. You have some plants in varying states of decay, with only a few cacti looking to be in decent shape. Either your work keeps you too busy to properly mind them, or you just like the idea of them more than the reality. It tells him that you’re looking–and failing–to fill a void in your life. You want to feel less alone in your home, you want to nurture something. You just haven’t found the right something yet.

Striding into your kitchen, arms folded behind his back, he peers through the cheap wood veneer of your fiberboard cupboards, unveiling an unusually broad assortment of mugs. There doesn’t seem to be any particular theme: holidays, locales, characters, and a menagerie of patterns. 

He hums softly, pivoting out of the kitchen and down the hall, his steps preternaturally light. He listens for the beat of your heart as he draws near, tunes it in alongside the shallow cadence of your breath. Deep asleep. Good.

The walls are lined with pictures of you and others. Friends or family, he can’t say, but you look to have an abundance of both. He rarely sees himself in photos that aren’t promotional material. He pauses to straighten a picture frame, and finds himself so viciously jealous of the man sharing the frame with you–his lips pressed to your cheek, your laughing smile so genuine he can nearly hear it–that he almost knocks it to the ground.

Running his tongue along his teeth, he continues on.

Your bedroom door is open. He slips in silently, pausing just through the doorway. Your bed's a queen, too big for just you. You’re sprawled comfortably amidst pillows, limbs splayed in just such a way that he can easily imagine fitting himself in the empty spaces between them. He can smell the lingering burn of the candle you’d lit when you got home. He picks it up off your dresser, reading the label: Cup ‘o Joe. 

Eugh. He never cared for coffee, and the artificial sweetness surrounding the note is cloying. Your perfume, on the other hand, he doesn’t mind. He notices the bottle alongside a few other of your things and puts the candle down in favor of that, popping the cap off. The smell hits him before he sprays it: vanilla first, then amber and something more woodsy. It’s less impressive by itself than it had been on you.

Still, it’s yours. You chose it for yourself.

Slipping off one of his gloves, he lightly sprays into the inside of it before he sets the bottle back down, recapping it. It won’t be the same, but he’s driven by the compulsion to spirit away any little pieces of you that he can. Just enough to satiate himself until he can have you properly.

That’s when he sees your blouse from today in a careless heap at the top of your laundry basket next to your dresser. Licking his lips, he tests the feel of the garment between his bare fingers. He’s always been sensitive to fabrics, and while the blend of this one is fairly cheap, it’s been worn and washed enough that it’s soft against his skin. He grabs a handful of it and lifts it to his mouth, brushing it along his lips, under his nose, and he deeply inhales your lingering scent mixing with the fresh pump of perfume.

He bites back a moan, screwing his eyes shut. His cock gives a dull little throb. Fuck, the spell you’ve cast on him makes him ache just for the smell of you, makes him salivate. He swallows it back, letting out a rough little breath as he reluctantly puts the shirt back down. Under it, he spies a little flash of something black and lacy. His stomach clenches, and he’s reaching for it before he can stop himself, fishing the black panties out of the heap and twisting the fabric between his fingers.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He can’t afford to overindulge. He won’t be able to control himself if he does, but he also can’t bring himself to put the little slip of fabric back down. He imagines he can almost taste where your sweet cunt had been pressed to it. Christ, he’s practically drooling. Out of sheer impulse, he yanks down the zipper of his pants with a quiet hiss of metal against metal and hastily pushes your underwear into his cup, biting down hard on his lip. He grinds once against his hand, savoring the feel of the fabric against his cock.

He’ll enjoy them far more than you’ll miss them.

Zipping himself back up, he carefully pulls open your top dresser drawer. He curiously pushes the contents around, mindful not to overly disturb, and his knuckles bump something solid. He shifts one of your bras–another near painful pang of arousal at the reminder of your breasts–aside and finds, to his delight, what any good marketing department would describe as  “a large purple massage wand.”

A vibrator. He chews his bottom lip briefly, turning it over in his grip. An exciting find on all fronts. It’s smooth and decently hefty, good quality. You deserve even better. You might be capable of indulging yourself with this, but he could make you scream. You’ll never need a silly little toy again. Not when you have him.

Homelander moves to put it back in the drawer, but–

“Fuck!” He hisses when the button catches on his finger, and suddenly the damn thing is buzzing.

Shut up, shut up, shut up, he chants mentally, jabbing at the buttons in an attempt to silence it, but pressing the same ones only makes the accursed device louder. In a frantic move, he grips the neck and squeezes. There’s a soft crunch beneath the silicone, and as abruptly as it had begun, the buzzing ends. His heart is thudding heavily in his chest. He listens to the silence, to you.

He looks over his shoulder. No movement. Your breaths remain shallow.

Christ.

So much for leaving no trace. He slips the busted toy back amidst your underthings and snatches his glove off of your dresser, tucking it under his arm. He hones his attention on you as he approaches your bed, assuring himself that you really are still asleep. He stands there for a while, admiring the part of your lips and the haphazard splay of your pajamas and where they cling to your body.

No bra.

His bare hand flexes. Being so close is too much of a temptation. He wets his lips with a quick slide of his tongue and bends down. He ghosts his fingers just over your cheek, not quite daring to touch. He can smell the faint remnants of your toothpaste on your breath, your shampoo, and beneath it all, you. It's intoxicating, it's…

Your brows furrow slightly in your sleep and you make a soft noise, interrupting his thoughts. He wonders if you’re dreaming–dreaming of him, perhaps. He’d like to think so. He’d like to think that you’re just as affected by him wanting you as he is, and that’s the real reason you invited him to lunch. He saw it in your eyes when he echoed your words, the thrill that went through you. He could have gone to his knees for you in that moment and had you in giving himself to you.

Desperate for just a taste, he kisses ever so gently between your brows, his own breaths matching the cadence of yours. Divine. You're divine. So effortlessly perfect and so aware of your own power. How could he not want every part of you?

He means to leave it there, to walk away with nothing but the slight salt of your brow on his lips, but the pull is too great. He's greedy, drunk on the smell and the taste of you, on the feel of your panties pressed up against his cock, and he can't stop himself from sampling your lips against his.

It’s the barest hint of touch, and yet the contact lances electricity through him like he’s been struck by a bolt of lightning. Your lips are soft, soft, soft. He knew they would be. Everything about you is so fucking soft. It takes everything in him to pull away, standing back to his full height.

He's aching, yearning so intensely he could rip the covers away and take you just like this, shake you awake, declare himself and have you. Would you scream, or would you have that same look of affronted understanding of him? You see him in a way few are ever brave–or stupid–enough to dare.

Not yet.

He won’t spoil the game. He agreed to play by your terms. As far as you’re concerned, he’ll do precisely that. You’ll be none the wiser in regards to his little reconnaissance mission–anything could have happened to your vibrator–and the two of you can play your little game as if you stand on equal footing.

Sucking in a silent breath, Homelander leaves alone, but not empty handed.

He’ll make very good use of his little trophy tonight.

( chapter three )

[uchu-no-bashira]

Night Time Relief - Demon!Gyomei x Fem!Reader

TW: Minors do not interact. Husband Gyomei, Demon Gyomei, Dubious Consent, Incubus, Non-con Touching, Non-con elements, Breeding, Power play, Power Imbalance, Blood, Restraining, Biting, Licking, Scratching, Slight Vore(?), Predator/Prey.

A Kasugai crow delivered you orders to destroy maybe one of the most skilled killers in the forest, West of the village it preys on. Without a second thought, you make your way through the woods that night, failing to note that the area around was incomprehensibly still. The smell of petrichor fills the air as freezing raindrops fall to the Earth, shrouding the forest with the soft sound of clattering leaves. You couldn’t ignore the feeling of foreboding in your mind as your footsteps grew lighter and swifter. You could feel it burning the back of your neck, a relentless gaze waiting for you in the abyss of total darkness among the tree line behind you. With hasty eyes, you glance back and forth along the moonlit path ahead and behind you.

Being this uneasy was nothing new to you seeing as you killed demons nightly, so being unsettled from time to time was a given, but tonight? Tonight was different. What was it about this area that forced goosebumps to traverse your body as well as make your stomach turn with venomous butterflies that corrupted your nervous system? It plagued your mind so heavily that you decided to go through the checklist of red flags you’d created in your time as a slayer, counting the top three off the list.

"Darkness, check. Ominous feeling of dread, check... What was that third thing?... Fuck, I'm too scared to remember.”

Hearing you admit to fear so blatantly brought a smile to your pursuer's face, he decided to enjoy the thrill of the chase until the very last moment, so he continued to prowl around in the shadows, waiting for his opportunity to pounce. "How would she taste?" He wondered, keeping his distance while remaining as low as he could, blades of grass gently sliding across his arms, legs and stomach, boosting his sensory skills as he 'sees' the world around him essentially. He listens to your footsteps, allowing the pursuer to constantly keep track of your precise location. It didn’t make it any better that he knows his prey well, he also knows that you’re onto him. All he has to do is stay out of sight. Gyomei had to admit he was a bit disappointed in his meek beloved for not realizing how grave the danger you were in, but he also knew that when you are petrified, you don't use your mind properly.

If You'd been a bit more composed, you would have realized that his commanding aura of dominance quieted all the other creatures in the forest, leaving an eerie, deathly silence that would make even the most expert of hikers turn around and head home. With a deep breath your eyes close slowly, trying desperately to remember what it was that was throwing you off-kilter. You rely on your ears and sense of smell. There was nothing that stood out immediately except the sound of the light rain coming to a stop, so with a low grumble, you whispered to yourself. "Listen to the forest… Listen to the creek around you and the creatures-” You pause momentarily as it finally dawns on you, “There are no other sounds but the creek!… It shouldn't be this qui-”

Before you finish the sentence, a deep snarl comes from your left just as your head turns in it’s direction. Faster than you could open your eyes, a branch snapped, then Gyomei’s body crashed into you. You tumble a few times against the ground, ultimately being pinned to your back. The sound of thumping in your ears increases as you stare into a set of luminous red eyes and gaze upon ashen brown skin that was cold to the touch. Gyomei lets out a deep chuckle while pinning your small hands above your head.

"You remember too late, my love. I thought you would have realized that over an hour ago when I first entered the area." He states in a menacing baritone voice. The force of his tackle left your weapons too far away for you to reach. Regardless, you fight with the strength you have by kicking the demon's rock hard abdominals. Desperate and breathing unsteadily, you do everything imaginable to break free of Gyomei's imperishable death grip on your wrists. The force he applied made it feel like they were going to snap as you grimaced. You continued to think of a way to at least propel him up and over your head, if only you could steady your feet. He was as heavy as a fully loaded train and the sight of his bloodied canines shining in the moonlight made your breathing even more sporadic with the thought that you’d be your husband’s next meal.

Your focus was drawn to his face and how terrifying it was. It harbored black cracks all over that spread along his neck and shoulders, with four extra arms protruding from his side while two continue to pin you. The sounds of your own breaths were drowned out and dominated by his hungry growls. What could have happened to him? Why did this happen to him? He would never agree to becoming a demon… or so you thought. Is this where he’s been for the last two years since his last mission? Through the midst of your confusion, you let out an exasperated grunt, finally finding the words you want to say to him.

"Gy-Gyomei, please! It’s me, your wife, don't-'' You're interrupted as one of Gyomei's free hands comes up to your mouth, covering it in a surprisingly gentle fashion. He makes sure to not scratch your mouth or face with his blackened, serrated claws. Tears of blood flow from his eyes, down his ashen cheeks and onto yours. The cries you expelled were muffled as your own tears involuntarily slip from your eyes and mix with the blood on your face. You begin shaking your head back and forth rapidly, your breaths continuing to stagger as you adamantly try to break free, twisting your wrists until you both hear a loud pop.

The feeling of sharpened nails press into the flesh of your cheek, any more and he’d puncture it. "Shh... My love, don't make this any harder than it needs to be." He tones deeply into your ear as he leans down, the heat from his words making you release a scream into his palm in frustration. Gyomei hums before moving his frosted fingers away from your mouth, slowly tracing along the thickness of your lips before he pinches your chin in the cusp of his index finger. A sharp pain radiates the underside of your chin as his thumb nail penetrates the skin and he draws blood. The stream of red fluid tickles your trachea as you close your eyes from the burning sensation. "You act as if you don't want this… Have you not missed me in my absence?” He asks honestly.

Your breath stifles, your eyes fly open, blistered with tears of grief you’d thought long passed as you lock eyes with your hunter... With your husband. “He remembers me…” You think to yourself while continuing to wiggle your wrist. Finding a little bit of room within his large hands, you were able to break one of your hands free, although you assumed he allowed you to. You slap his hand away from your chin, then shove your palm into his face. "Get.. off... Me!..." You grunt, feet still kicking at his hardened stomach that he, of course, cannot feel. This coerces a demented chuckle from the giant as jagged teeth sink into your palm, burning instantly. Suddenly, the space around your waist is tugged as his nails cut into your sides easily like a knife gliding through butter. He digs his nails in deep, stopping just before any major arteries as he holds you steady.

More of your blood trickles over his fingertips and a feral growl escapes his chest. A loud scream begins to escape your own mouth, the same burning in your chin earlier now ravaging the entirety of your body, the nerves screaming in pain across the synapses in your brain… But then… The area grows warm and sensitive, changing the feral screams of your voice into pleasured moans. Gyomei's top left arm continues to hold one of your wrists, while the top right that you’d smacked away, grabs your offending bloody hand and he drags his tongue over the wound he'd made.

He laps at your palm sensually, slurping on your red nectar while he chuckles. "You know there is no point in this." He tones before licking his lips. "You're too sweet to let go and far too valuable to me to share with anyone else."

You scoff at his words in disgust. "Listen... To yourself!! You- Anh~!" A moan quivers in your voice as his nails squeeze deeper into your sides. "You sound... Like a... Monster! This isn't you! You're not like this!..." You whimper, eyes closing as you turn your head away from what used to be your loving husband. Gyomei continues to lick your wound, becoming even more roused by the position he's in. He kisses his way down your wrist, then smiles playfully.

“But you're enjoying yourself and don't want me to stop... Isn't that right?" He asks in a smooth tone of voice. You hated yourself for agreeing with the demon, a faint heat creeping along your cheeks as you refused to answer, your body now basking in the warmth surging through your body. His carnivorous licks grow more pleasant with each passing second. You look up at the demon with curiosity plaguing your mind.

"Exactly... What kind of demon are you? Why did you become a demon? How could you.. Leave me for so long?" You ask in a medium pitched, breathy voice. Your arousal was obvious to the demon towering above you. He gently responds back while placing your hand back in its original place in his large palm, pinning it above your head again.

"My only reason for becoming a demon was to meet you again. I was dying a painful death on my final mission as a Slayer and could not bear the thought of never saying goodbye… So, I did what I must to meet you once more. I try not to dwell on my blunder, as what I wished for finally came to pass.” He tones while dragging his nail along the supple flesh of your skin. “As far as what kind of demon, it should be obvious by now, my love. Tell me, what do you think I am?" He asks while taking the finger on his bottom right hand to the top of your slayer uniform, then drags it down to the waistline of your pants. The sound of fabric tearing and buttons popping could be heard as your breasts burst out of the torn clothing.

The sound of the demon purring signals that he likes what he sensed, your overwhelming aroma of lust teasing his nose and tongue as he palms your chest. The cold wet air grazing your bare flesh and nipples pulls a stifled moan from your lips before you answer. "An... Incubus?..." Gyomei nods his head slowly, then places his forehead to yours.

“Will you allow me to indulge in your warmth once more, y/n? I may be a demon… But I still care deeply about you, that much I have not forgotten.” He asks while looping his finger on the inside of your pants. You couldn’t help but relent and nod your head. You’d missed his touch so much for the past two years that he was away. He grins at you lovingly, then begins to drag his finger from the base of your collarbone to your navel tearing the flesh of your torso as he goes. The sound of your moans flooding his ear brought bliss throughout his body.

He uses his last two arms to spread your legs, exposing a precious pussy that was oozing cum prematurely as he rubs his clothed dick against your sensitive bulb. His venom had worked just as he wanted it to. He feels along your tiny frame as you fully submit to your lust. With your head tilted back, eyes half lidded and your body flushed beyond all reason, you position your hips against the underside of his dick. The massive output of steam from your body signals to him that you’re all his and your resistance has dissipated. Gyomei giggles at you before dragging his tongue along your bloody torso. "You taste amazing, my love…" He whispers as removes his claws from your waist and free’s his large dick from his pants, then lines it up at your opening. “This will hurt a bit.”

As he pushes his hips forward, his dick seemingly splits you up the middle and presses into your cervix as you let out a feral moan. How thrilling it felt to be under your husband once again albeit under less than ideal circumstances. Here you were, bare as a newborn child on the forest floor, mating with a demon of astronomical size and strength. Each thrust into your tight hole had you seeing stars and squeezing your nails into your palms. “T-to much!... H-hurts!” You cry as tears of pleasure start to careen down your cheeks. Gyomei snarls as he leans in to bite your neck, injecting more venom into you, soothing your pain while feeding himself in the process as your scream takes on a more pleasured tone.

Gyomei drags his tongue along your neck slowly and with the tantalizing taste of iron on his tongue accompanied by the feeling of his dick being squeezed and sucked into your greedy pussy has soft, pleased growls leaving his chest with each snap of his hips. He could lose himself in this sensation and he does. You’re intoxicating to this man and he can’t stop himself as he goes in a second time, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. Your heavy breathing and moaning has your heart pumping his venom through your veins at an exponential rate, causing you to cum all over his pelvis as you take him in his entirety.

“F-fuck!... S-so big!… S-so good!~” You whimper, your pussy spasms as you feel a dagger like sensation piercing into your collar bone, the sound of squelching filling the air as your eyes drift to the back of your head. The feeling of his cold skin against your own causes temporary relief as you continue to release guttural moans into Gyomei’s ear. The large demon continues to drive into you harder, deeper, faster until he feels you nearing your breaking point. He squeezes your wrists tighter, pumping into you sloppily as creamy white slick spreads to his abdomen.

“Almost...” He pleads in a deep and needy tone as he angles himself to fuck into your sweet spot. The sheer feeling of him pushing into your tightening hole was too much to bear, what tips him over the edge was the sound of your voice breaking as you orgasm loudly, the sound reverberating in his ears causing him to let out a deep groan that vibrates your chest as he shoots thick, hot ropes of his seed into you.

Both of you were breathing heavily and you’d looked like you’d been mauled by a demon. Bite marks everywhere and close to severe blood loss. You look up at him with tired eyes, the adrenaline from his venom wearing off as you ask breathily,

“Are you going to devour me now?”

Gyomei chuckles and lets go of your bruised wrists.

“Oh, my love… this is just the first of our encounters. I’ve decided this will not be the last of us meeting. As I said: You're too sweet to let go and far too valuable to me to share with anyone else... ”

… And you didn’t mind that. Not. One Bit.

[theoutcastwrites]

Try Again - Il Dottore x Reader

This is a vent fic. Let's just get that out of the way. I wrote this because I needed Dottore to do The Thing™. Don't read too much into this. The feelings will pass

"You've been staring at that journal for the past fifteen minutes," said Zandik, "what's the matter?"

You weren't sure it could be put into words - all the self-doubt that tormented you as of late, the thoughts that circled your mind every waking hour. Attempts had been made, in vain, to prepare a small speech in your head in case Zandik ever caught on. That, of course, he did, but you had nothing to say; not a single eloquent monologue to convey your insecurities in a way that would provoke understanding and not bewilderment.

I feel inadequate as of late. I don't feel like I'm wanted anywhere. Nothing I do matters anymore.

All miserable words that would have been met with a stern look, a simple "you are wanted by me; thus all that you do matters to me".

You tapped your pen against the empty page of your journal. You were desperate to say something, yet whatever it was that would eventually come out of your mouth already felt lacking. Nothing was enough.

"Talk to me," he urged, "you know there is nothing in this world that can't be solved. Tell me what bothers you."

You swallowed. "I feel as if I've lost all my skills. For writing, I mean. I can't come up with anything new and whatever ideas I have feel mediocre at best; uninteresting and aimless. I don't know, I..."

I think I should just give up.

The thought had crossed your mind countless times before. Wouldn't it be so much easier to abandon your work altogether? Why continue hurting yourself with this when you could simply let it all go?

You were tempted. Still, there was something that forced you to keep trying; something strange and incomprehensible that begged you not to give up this one thing that you knew.

Zandik pulled you out of your thoughts, "as far as I can tell - from what little I've seen of your scribbles - you've been writing the same themes over and over. What about trying something new?"

"I have tried. Nothing feels fitting."

"Then take a break. If I hit a dead end in my research I find something else to occupy my mind. Surely reading someone else's works will help you view your ideas from different perspectives?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. It all sounded so simple in theory - this issue should have been so easy to solve - yet nothing had worked. You felt as though you were stuck between four brick walls with no tools to break them down; nothing but your own fingernails to scrape them in hopes that someone would hear you from the other side.

"It doesn't feel so simple," you said softly.

"Why?"

"If I take a break now, I feel as if I'll only get worse." There came the first half of your horrifyingly vulnerable confession, and with it - a lump in your throat that came to embarrass you even further. You whispered the second half with enough shame to drown an entire nation: "If I don't push something out now, I'm afraid people will stop caring about me."

Zandik didn't spare you enough time to hide the tears that already clouded your vision; for he was by your side in the blink of an eye, gently pulling the journal out of your hands and hiding it behind his back.

"Why would you let such a thought become your truth?"

He laced his fingers with yours, wiped at the stray tears on your cheeks with the other hand. His glove rubbed against your skin in a way that was more uncomfortable than soothing but you made no move to stop him. Zandik continued to soothe you in the way he knew best.

"There's no race to run, do you understand? If you keep telling yourself that you'll become spoiled lest you write now, you'll never be able to see your brilliance as I do."

Zandik's eyes softened when you weakly squeezed his hand in acknowledgement. Thank you, you wanted to say, for seeing in me everything that I do not.

"Everything comes and goes; just as dusk turns to dawn without waiting for you to keep up." Zandik placed a tender kiss on your knuckles, "so don't let one difficult moment define you, my dear."

[lev1hei1chou]

Birthday Present

Dad!Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Words: 420 Synopsis: Gojo ropes his child into a plan, determined to make your birthday memorable Masterlist

It was a sunny morning at the Gojo residence, and Satoru Gojo was determined to make this day extra special. Today was your birthday, and Gojo had something heartwarming in mind. And he knew he could successfully make his idea a reality. As you enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, Satoru disappeared for a moment, leaving you curious about what he might be up to.

In the living room, Gojo sat on the floor with your adorable toddler, their big, curious eyes fixed on their father. Gojo, being the confident man he was, had a twinkle in his eye as he prepared for a unique birthday surprise.

"Alright, little one," Gojo began, as his little one looked at him with unwavering attention. "Today, we're going to learn something very special for Mommy's birthday. Can you say, 'I love you'?"

The toddler blinked innocently, not fully grasping the words but sensing the excitement in their father's voice. Gojo patiently repeated the phrase, encouraging them to mimic the sounds. The toddler babbled in response, creating a cute and incomprehensible version of the words.

With each attempt, Gojo couldn't help but smile. "That's it! You're doing great! Mommy's going to love this."

As the morning progressed, Gojo continued his impromptu language lesson. He used playful gestures, exaggerated expressions, and even incorporated a funny sounds to keep the toddler engaged. The room was filled with laughter and incoherent babbbling, the joyous sound of a father bonding with his child.

Finally, after several attempts, the toddler managed to string together a recognizable "I wuv you." Gojo erupted into cheers, scooping the little one into his arms for a triumphant hug and pressed a loud kiss to their forehead.

"Perfect! You're a natural, just like your dad," Gojo grinned, his heart swelling with pride.

Later that day, as you gathered with family and friends to celebrate your birthday, Satoru couldn't wait to unveil his surprise. With the toddler in his arms, he looked at you with a huge grin plastered on his face.

"Okay, little one, it's showtime. Can you say it for Mommy? I-" He dragged out, hoping that the child would catch on to what he was trying to do.

The toddler, sensing the anticipation, looked at you with those innocent eyes and exclaimed, "I wuv you!"

The room erupted into cheers and laughter as you felt your heart swell with love. Gojo beamed with pride, knowing that this small, heartfelt gift from your toddler was the best present he could have given you.

[diejager]

I know this kinda sounds stupid- but can you do a feral deer reader who was found by the task force? The reader has some magical healing abilities, so she ended up captured and hired as a medic. Since the reader never really communicated with humans/ other hybrids and was mostly by herself, she doesn't understand social stuff. For example, she can be convinced that getting groped is a greeting, and she'll agree since she never interacted with other hybrids before. So she's pretty much oblivious.

If possible- make her a bit fluffy? 👉👈

I’m going to make this the continuation to Doe because I can!! Muhahahahahah!!!!!! ψ(｀∇´)ψ

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, non-con touching, magic, hybrid, groping, tell me if I missed any.

You were introduced to Laswell after the mission, dressed in better clothing than the tattered dress you wore, antlers cleaned from all the leaves and officially claimed by the Task Force, you found a place in their group. Going through a few rough patches and scuffles to get you out of your home, they watched you tend to your wounds, your hands glowing over the scrapes and tongue lapping at your bleeding fingers. Your… ability was the driving nail that forced Laswell to bend to their words, she’d been hounding them to get a medic or someone with better medical knowledge than the four of them combined. 

After all the paperwork and sweat, Price had the honour of locking the pretty collar they team bought you around your neck, the insignia gleaming under the office light was the final step to bind you to them as your handlers, a poor and fragile, little deer they saved from the freezing Canadian wilderness. But in all honesty, all they did was separate you from your herd, the warmer spring announcing the end of your antlers and the growth of a new set, it made frolicking and dancing easier than winter did. You were plucked from everything you knew, ripped from your lush forest and livelihood where you watched over the fauna and little critters that came to you for healing, and forcefully placed in a dead and unfeeling world where grey buildings towered over the forests and life restrained to small patches of dying soil. It made you uncomfortable, but the binding words the four men - human men - and the nice but stoic lady (she looked so tired, it made your hands itch to soothe her aches) shared with you made it seem like it was impossible for you to return to your home. 

“This is your new home, sweetheart,” the bear-like man said, his gruff voice and imposing figure had you shuddering in your seat, much more than the energetic man with electric, blue eyes that you then learned was Soap. 

You wanted to argue, but your voice died in your throat when they all stared at you with dark and expectant eyes, seemingly anticipating submission and obedience from you as a deer. How could you fight when they held such an oppressive air around them, but perhaps it was just their broad and muscular bodies that made your nerves bristle; perhaps they were nicer than they looked, gentler and tender like the way that man with brown eyes held you in the metal bird, whispering sweet and comforting words; or perhaps they were truly mean and dominating, like some pack of wolves that shared your home. You hoped they were as nice as the Gaz, who made you call him by his… real name? You were confused, but you did as he asked, calling him Kyle unlike the other men. 

You gave Price a muted nod, eyes cast down and fingers scratching and pulling at your restrictive clothes, feeling too covered and your skin too sensitive by all the irritating fabrics and silks. It hadn’t taken them much time to intergrate you in their schedule, finding you a place in their group to stare at and work despite your clear confusion about the social norms and your sudden duty. The human world was a stranger to you, foreign acts and alien words that you needed help with: you could read some words while others were completely incomprehensible for your feral mind, or your confusion about the use for phones and anything too advanced had you fumbling with your words.

It’s good that you had them to help you, no? 

Price made you attend classes with him and Ghost, being taught the alphabet and complicated words after the training drills and morning rituals, sometimes seated between them, squeezed so tightly between their broad shoulders, and other times seated on their laps, their shadow looming over you when they bent over to show you something. They touched you a lot, Ghost having less restraint than his Captain, his rough, gloveless fingers sliding beneath your shirt and groping the softness of your stomach and kneading your breasts, feeling its weight and perky nipples. You squirmed on his lap, whined out your discomfort, used to physical interaction in your herd, but never something so forward, but Ghost had reassured you that this was a normal human behaviour towards someone they cared deeply for.

Price kept his to your stomach and ass, feeling the fat of your cheeks and occasionally standing a hit, drinking in your yelps and whimpers from his touches. He, alike Ghost did, assured you that it was normal that he hooked his arm around your hip and holding you flushed to his side, his musky scent wafting around you like a thick cloud of smoke. He ruffled your hair once your antlers fell, petting you like he would a dog, carding through your washed locks and chuckling when your ears twitched from being handled. He would often call you to his office at random times, allegedly wanting you to train healing them since humans were slightly different than hybrids and having you lick his paper cut with your pink tongue. He liked shoving two fingers down your throat and pumping until you gagged and choked, drooling down his wrist while he breathed heavily and palmed himself.

Gaz and Soap helped you with other things: understanding human behaviour, training you mind and body and helping you around the base when you were lost and disoriented. Both men were enthused to be your chaperone, excited to take part in your schooling in other ways. Gaz lead you around the base hand in hand, his fingers intertwined with yours in a strong and unmoving grip while he pulled you forward, your tail flicking anxiously when people gazed your way, their eyes probing your uniform-clad figure. He was more upfront than the older men, pulling you to his chest and cuddling you in public areas, the bigger rec room, the mess hall or the gym, nuzzling the crook of your neck, lips drawling pretty words on your throat and shoulder and hair tickling your skin, mumbling the sweetest praises despite your obvious stiffness.

Soap, not unlike Gaz, had you call him Johnny (Ghost called him that too, you quickly found out) and was the touchiest of the four, always placing a hand on you even in awkward and weird situations. Soap was more animalistic than the others, panting and huffing when he spent too long around you, rutting your thigh like a wolf in rut or another reindeer deep in the season, you were quite sure this one wasn’t that much of a norm, seeing people avert their eyes or Ghost scruffing Soap and hissing degrading words. He especially loved sparring with you, pinning you on the mat, hand wrapped around your nap and putting his weight on your struggling body. He’d grind his hard bulge against your ass, ignoring your cries and whines, happily huffing and groaning in your ear while Gaz and Ghost watched on, admiring the sight, a pretty and vulnerable deer with little stubs and flickering ears, writhing under the mutt of the Task Force. 

Even if your initial use was for healing wounds and supporting the team, they found a secondary task for you in all the chaos and caution, to help you open up to them faster and easier. It’d only take a few kisses, cuddling and sessions until you grow attune and accept your new home.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts

[imgoingtofreakoutnow]

Baby, be still for me

Summary: Miguel accidentally bites you, paralyzing you for a while...

Pairing: Miguel o'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, porn with no plot, overstimulation, fingering, oral (f!receiving), cockriding, p in v unprotected (always use protection guys!!!), small aftercare, Miguel!switch, reader!switch

A/n: this is definitely the filthiest thing I've ever written so I hope you all enjoy <3 (tagging @tripleyeeet because yes)

\_/

The bite had been an accident, or at least that was what Miguel told you.

Just below your jaw, so close to your jugular. You could still feel the sting, the slight pain and numbness where Miguel's fangs had dipped in your skin.

The paralyzing serum had worked quickly, more than what Miguel had anticipated. In less than a minute you found yourself completely still in bed, still breathing but unable to speak or move anything other than your eyelids.

"Do you want me to stop, nena?" Your breath quivered as he moved his hands down your waist, grabbing a handful of your thighs and pushing your legs open. "Blink once for yes," he whispered, his words accompanied by a shallow movement of his fingers along your inner thigh, "and two for no."

You blinked slowly, even your working muscles almost stuck in a haze. You hadn't opened your eyes back from the second blink that Miguel's tongue had already moved on your folds, lapping and sucking on your clit.

You tried to scream his name, but all that left your mouth were incomprehensible moans and grunts as Miguel's tongue slithered inside and out of you.

The first orgasm reached you quickly in a blurred ecstasy, followed by another one when his fingers finally entered your pussy and reached the spongy spot that his tongue didn't manage to.

Every nerve in your body screamed for more, to push your hips towards him and rock them in a symphony of movements, to grab his hair and pull his mouth on every inch of your skin they hadn't touched yet.

"¿Te gusta así, nena?"

His voice was low, a hot breath against your skin as his fingers kept pumping inside of you and his thumb circled relentlessly on your clit.

Some air left your lungs, intending to cry out a yes, but your lips still weren't collaborating. A needy and broken moan escaped your mouth, a visceral sound you didn't know was in you.

Another moan followed the first one though when Miguel stopped his motions.

"You gotta answer me, cariño." Wet fingers reached your chin up and pulled it down until you met his scarlet eyes. There was a wild rawness in them, that made your heart and core throb.

"Do you like this?" he asked again, his hands going back inside your slick folds but without ever breaking eye contact. "Yes or no?"

You blinked, your chest moving sharply up and down, and Miguel smirked devilishly.

"Muy bien," and he continued the siege of your pussy as his other hands played with your nipples.

You didn't know how long this went on, your mind was completely drunk with pleasure. Everything between your legs was red and puffy and so, so sensitive.

That's probably why you didn't even realize when your arms moved and your hands gripped Miguel's hair.

He raised his face, lips swollen and smudged with your juices, and another smirk appeared.

"Welcome back, sweetheart." He crawled towards you and kissed you — no, he ate your lips. You could taste yourself on his and somehow that set your core on fire once again.

"You treated me so well," you whispered breathless on his mouth, pulling him closer by the neck. As you did, you felt his cock resting on your belly, hard as a rock. "Now let me do something to help you."

Before he could say something or pin you against the mattress, you thrusted him on his back and sat on his erection.

Miguel opened his mouth to say something but a quiet moan was all that came out as you started grinding on it.

"I'm gonna ride your dick," you explained, the friction making you gasp for air for every word you uttered, "and you will stay there. No hands on me, nothing."

You moved from his penis and sat on his chest, wet from both your cum and his pre-cum. "Am I clear?"

Miguel nodded. "Sì, clarísima."

And as much as him speaking Spanish turned you on, you shook your head.

"Blink, love."

Another smirk pulled his lips upwards as he blinked.

"Muy bien."

When you finally guided his cock inside of you, you felt no resistance whatsoever. Your walls opened up as if they had been waiting for it and immediately sucked it in completely.

You and Miguel gasped together when his tip hit your spongy spot, and you heard him swear under his breath when your hips started thrusting.

"Joder!" he gasped as your sped up your motions, gripping his hair with one hand and the sheets with the other.

You threw your head back, your eyes closed as you simply fucked yourself into his cock. The sound of your bodies was an incoherent mix of squelching and gasping and swearing and your pussy almost hurt from all the prior overstimulation, but your mind was completely drunk on all of these sensations.

The knot inside your stomach was close to come undone, you just needed a little push, but you weren't alone in this.

You looked down on him as your hand went down to your clit and started circling it quickly.

"Gonna come for me, big boy?"

Miguel didn't wait for an answer. He pushed himself up, so that you were chest to chest and thursted into you a couple more times before he filled you up.

You followed soon after, eyes closed and limbs tired, and you let your forehead fall on Miguel's shoulder.

He kissed gently your salty skin, and you felt him smiling against it.

"What?"

"Nada," he shrugged, leaving the bed to retrieve a towel from the bathroom. "Just thinking I should bite you more often."

You chuckled, too tired to even think of a way to respond. You simply let him take care of you, as you always did.

\_/

Spanish translation:

Nena - baby

Cariño - darling

¿Te gusta así? - Do you like it like this?

Muy bien - Very good

Sì, clarísima - Yes, very clear

Joder - Fuck

[honestly-mad-person]

DADDY'S TIME

A/n: Get ready for your heart to melt from the level of cuteness and sweetness with L&D boys as daddies!

Synopsys: You decide to take a nap because you are tired of taking care of your three-year-old child and ask your husband to take over while you rest.

Characters: Xavier / Zayne (Sorry Rafayel’s stands)

Genre: Fluff

XAVIER VERSION

You woke up in the afternoon and rubbed your eyes sleepily and left the bedroom. You slept a little, tired from the sleepless night, because your daughter often woke up in the middle of the night, waking you and Xavier with her crying. You loved this little bundle of cuteness who looked just like his daddy, but tiredness got the better of you.

You listened to the noises in the apartment and the only thing you could hear was a soft melody coming from the children's room. You followed the sound and opened the door and froze. The whole room was covered in holographic stars and nebulae (Thank you, Xavier, for this gift for our daughter).

The stars were on the walls, on the ceiling, they were floating in the air, passing each other. They shone softly, being the only light in the dark room. Looking at the window, you saw that the curtains were tightly closed and the sunlight barely made it through. This pleasant atmosphere was enhanced by a music box that played a soothing melody. Feeling like you were in outer space, you couldn't help but wonder how sweet Xavier was.

Finding the two most precious people in your life in your eyes, you smiled warmly. Xavier was lying in the beanbag chair, holding your baby to his chest. Both were sleeping, drooling. Your daughter was curled up on her daddy, holding her thumb in her mouth while his caring arms gently held her back. The more you looked at this picture, the more your heart melted. You felt proud that the two of you were able to make another incredible beauty.

You walked quietly on the floor, avoiding the scattered toys and coming up to them and sitting down on the floor next to them. Your gaze could not be torn from these sleeping faces. They looked so peaceful that you couldn't help but rest your head on Xavier's shoulder. He mumbled a little as he stirred, but continued to sleep as your hand lay on top of his on your daughter's back. You had loved Xavier madly, but now he had made you fall in love with him again without realizing it.

ZAYNE VERSION

Opening your eyes, you tried to banish the remnants of the day's sleep by stretching in bed. You could hear incomprehensible mumbling coming from behind the door. Getting up, you left the room and rubbed your sleepy eyes. Looking around the living room, you didn't find your husband and son, but you smelled a pleasant odor coming from the kitchen and went there.

— What are you doing here? – you asked as you entered the room.

— Mommy! – the black-haired boy exclaimed happily and jumped out of his father's arms and ran to you.

— My cupcake! – You melted, catching him in your arms and covering his sweet face with kisses. – What were you doing here with your daddy?

You glanced over at Zayne, who was standing by the kitchen counter, and you felt your heart skip a beat. As always, Zayne looked gorgeous, even in his home clothes. He was leaning on the kitchen counter with his hands, never taking his eyes off you. You caught little flashes of something dirty in his eyes and, barely holding back a smile, you looked at your son. Your and Zayne's son.

— Daddy and me made breakfast for mommy – his arms wrapped around your neck and he kissed you on the cheek.

— It was supposed to be a surprise, snowflake, – Zayne shook his head as he walked over to you and his hand gently rested on the child's head, ruffling his hair.

— Sorry, daddy, – answered, he looking into your eyes and murmured softly, taking your face in his small hands. – Mommy, we've made you breakfast, but it's a surprise, so don't tell anyone, okay?

Looking into his bright green eyes, you couldn't help but laugh.

— Okay, my good man, I won't tell anyone, – you hugged him tightly, holding him to your chest.

[carmenberzattosgf]

Carmy trying to make reader squirt 🤭 it somehow comes up casually and reader is like “oh yeah lol it happened to me once a few years ago but idk how the hell I did it” and Carmy just like short circuits 💀 then he hyperfixates on it for 3 days and when he finally has some time off bro is DETERMINED to make reader do it again. Like brows furrowed in concentration. Fingering them like no tomorrow and breathing heavy. Overstim and talking them through it. Praise. 🫣

Oh my god. ( this is not proofread it is literally 2am)

Carmy’s not super experienced. We all know this. In all honesty he barely knows what squirting is. He thought it was just a thing in porn, until it came up in a conversation between you two.

“I’m pretty sure it happened to me once a few years ago, but I have no clue how I did it.”

“W-wait what? I thought that only happens in porn.” His cheeks begin to flush as he thinks about it. You, with your fingers curling up inside of you, gushing onto the sheets below you.

You giggle at his pure cluelessness. “It can happen, it’s just not common. Some girls can’t do it at all. I didn’t realize I could until it happened.”

“Oh.”

Needless to say Carmen cannot get the idea out of his mind. It literally haunts him at work. He wants to make you squirt. He needs to.

Carmy being the nerd that he is researches the hell out of it, making sure he knows exactly what he’s doing. That Saturday on his day off, he’s determined to make it happen.

His lips are on yours the second he finishes cleaning up the kitchen from cooking dinner. His mouth moves sloppily against yours, teeth clashing together.

“Carm—“ you manage to break away from his eager lips for a brief moment. “What’s the rush? We can calm down a bit, you know. We have all night.”

“I wanna make you squirt. I’ve been— thinking about it non-stop for the past few days. I can’t fucking think straight. Can I? Please?”

How can you refuse him when he’s looking at you with those desperate blue eyes. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

You and Carmy work together to remove your clothes. He has you lay down on your back with your knees spread wide. He sits beside you, still fully clothed. “J-just tell me if you want to stop.”

His middle and ring fingers press into your soaked core with no hesitation. Carmy’s studying you, the facial expressions you make, and the way your cunt pulses around his fingers. His movements are slow and gentle at first, but that changes quickly. He quickens the thrust of his fingers while hooking the two fingers upwards. Carmy’s searching for that rough spot, and by your reaction, he knows he found it.

“Carmy! Fuck—“ you hand aimlessly searches for something to hold onto to steady yourself. Carmen offers his left hand, which you grip tightly.

Once he finds the spot, Carmy locks into focus. His thrusts are deliberate, alternating between speeds and making sure to apply pressure. Your hips move out of their own volition. “That it, baby? That feel good?” He asks. His voice his smooth, but you don’t miss the way he’s biting his lip in concentration. His brow is furrowed and sweat collects on his forehead.

“Yes, Carm. Please. Please don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it. I’ve got you.” Carmy continues to pleasure you, only stopping for a brief moment when you neared your climax. He softly shushes your whimper of complaint. “I know, baby. Trust me. You can trust me.”

His pace picks back up before you even know it. His fingertips move at lightening speed, pressing hard at the rough patch at the top of your core. Carmy looks like pure sex, and you’re not even pleasuring him. His face is completely flushed as he breathes heavily, panting for hair. Sweat is starting to pool off of his brow and down the side of his face. His eyes are blown out; only a small sliver of the blue still visible.

“Carm— I’m close. Please I’m so close. Fuck!” Your cries are nearly incomprehensible. Your hips buck against his fingers.

“Cum. Gush around my fingers. Make a fucking mess.”

“Shit— Carmen—“ you moan as your orgasm over takes you. You shutter as you feel liquid spill between your legs. It’s euphoria like you’ve never felt before.

“Good girl! Fuck. That’s it. Keep cumming for me. Don’t stop soaking my fingers, baby,” Carmy praises, watching you in awe. You clutch onto his body as more spurts leave you. He hasn’t slowed down his fingers at all. It’s all becoming too much.

“T-too much—“ you try and tell Carmy, but he doesn’t slow down immediately.

“I’ve got you. You can take it.” He’s still watching your cunt at your hips recklessly move against his hand. He can’t believe he made you squirt. He wants to stay in this moment as long as possible.

After he’s finally decided you’ve had enough, he removes his fingers from you. As if on autopilot, he places the digits in his mouth, licking the remnants of your slick off of them. You pull him down by the back of his neck to kiss him deeply.

“Fuck, Carm. That was— I don’t even know what to say.” You don’t need to think of anything else, though, because Carmen does the rest of the talking.

“You did so good for me. Holy shit that was—God, you’re so fucking pretty. I want to do that over and over and over—“

“Woah let’s slow down a sec. I need to remember which side is my left or or my right first.”

“Sorry… got a little bit excited.”

From then on Carmy loves to make you squirt. His favorite thing to do is bring a mirror into it, so you can see how fucking gorgeous you look squirting around his fingers. Also he definitely starts to try and learn how to make you squirt with his cock after this….