#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)

[littlelovelunette]

Hiiii! im not sure if youve made something like this but could you write like sevika x reader having rough possessive sex in front of someone? like a stalker-ex of reader or some guy thats been eyeing reader too much during one of sevikas gambling games. I really love your writing btw!! and sorry if it doesn’t make sense

Duality & Gunpowder

Dark!Sevika x Fem!Reader

Sex, dark!Sevika, exhibitionism, restraints, Sevika having duality, praise kink, murder, gun, stalking mentioned, threats

Sevika had you bent over the table, wrists tied together as she squeezed your ass, "We have a viewer today, darling," she said, her voice low and soft.

You were clothed, and so was Sevika, yet she had on the strap harness. You had no panties on underneath her skirt through, so Sevika could access you easily. You nodded, slowly looking up to see your ex tied to a chair, with his mouth duct taped shut. He struggled against the ropes but it was useless.

Sevika chuckled, shaking her head, "Eyes over here, pretty boy," she taunted, her gun pointed towards his head as her strap's head teased your wet cunt from under your skirt.

"Wasn't the best idea stalking your ex, now, was it?" Sevika laughed, a low rumbled from her chest before she pistoned her hips forwards and the toy disappeared in your pussy with a squelching sound that made you blush.

"O-oh, Sev..."

"It's okay, angel, shush, I've got you," Sevika whispered in your ear, her other hand gently rubbing your back, thumb tracing patterns on your clothed behind while her hips continued their motions.

Her pace wasn't too fast or too slow, deep and calculated was the phrase for it. Sevika's eyes were fixed on your struggling ex-boyfriend who mumbled something incomprehensible in the gag but none of the both of you cared enough to really listen. Sevika slammed the strap inside suddenly causing you to let out a small squeak of surprise and tighten around the silicone. Sevika was never rough with you, she adored you. You were her light, her angel, her little flower, her everything.

Every good thing she had in life had to be correlated to you. Or it simply wasn't good enough. The tough life in Zaun hardened Sevika enough to know she needed to cherish someone like you in her life because it wasn't easy to come by love so pure. She needed to protect you even if that meant putting a bullet through your ex's skull.

"You're so tense, my love," Sevika gave your lower back a firm rub, "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, please, keep going," you said, eyes closing and head tilting back.

Small moans and gasps left your lips as your back arched feeling the big strap shoving all the way inside and then back out. The thrusts were deeper than before, your hands quickly scrambling to grab the edges of the table so you could anchor yourself properly, you were almost melting in her arms.

"Eyes here, boy," Sevika barked at your ex who was trying to look away, unable to bear the sight in front of him, "You either look this way or I make you look this way."

You let out a loud moan as if punctuating her words, and showcasing just how much Sevika was capable of doing. Sevika smirked, voice softening once she spoke to you like it always did.

"Yeah? Enjoying, my angel?"

Sevika took a deep breath before fastening her pace, causing the table to rattle on its legs. You doubted it could hold the both of you up for too long, so you tried to push back only resulting the toy to sink further inside you.

"Your cunt is so pretty," Sevika whispered in your ear as she continued thrusting, her gun hand still fixed at its form, pointing towards your ex.

"S-Sevika, I'm close," you whimpered and Sevika smirked, starting to thrust harder than before making your moans louder.

You whined and gripped onto the table for support, crying out as you felt her ram into you from behind. You were on the verge of tears due to the overwhelming pleasure but Sevika's thrusts knew no end. Your mouth was open, gasps issuing and moans escaping. With one final thrust, you came and Sevika held herself inside for a bit. The loud gunshot went off, your eyes widening in shock as you whipped your head around to take a look. Sevika's expression was as hardened as ever, gazing at your ex-boyfriend's now dead body in the chair. He was slumped in the chair, eyes wide and empty, drool running down the gag as if he'd been trying to silently plead for his life through the gag but of course, none of the both of you really cared to listen.

You looked at Sevika, feeling uneasy about the corpse in the room, "Sevika..." Your voice was a faint mewl.

Sevika nodded, "I know, baby, I know."

The strap pulled out of your pussy with a wet pop making you whine at the sudden emptiness of your hole. Sevika didn't waste any time and picked you up bridal style. She walked up the stairs of the basement, face still as unfeeling as ever when it came to the ruthless murder of your ex. But for you? Sevika was all soft and sweet for you. Her top priority now was to run you a bubble bath and tuck you in bed before she went to dispose of your ex.

[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.

[cherrygirlfriend]

pairing: reader x bsf!rafe

synopsis: reader gets depressed after sex, so rafe comforts her.

warnings: smut, angst and comfort, fluff MDNI! - wc: 700

author’s note: i wrote this last night when this site went down; it's a bit different and doesn't have much dialogue but i was feeling poetic. also, trying out yet another layout style ⟡ ݁₊ . originally posted 01/08/2025

bsf!rafe masterlist ♡

it always starts the same; the feeling in your stomach building up, the heat spreading through your veins, making your body feel like the sun is rising, slowly warming up every one of your limbs as your whimpers turn into quiet moans as you’re brought closer and closer to the edge, to bliss.

then, all of a sudden, rafe touches just the right spot at just the right pace, whispering just the perfect words into your ear before sucking your earlobe into his mouth as he continues thrusting into you, your nails digging into his back, and then the soft sunlight titillating across your body turns into a blazing fire.

the moment you come undone your back arches off the bed, into him like a moth to a flame, your sensitive, pebbled nipples pressing against his muscular chest as you let out raspy words that are supposed to be his name, but ultimately end up being incomprehensible mumbles, rafe letting out groans on top of you as you clenched around him, your tight walls basically calling for him to come.

you can feel the rush of dopamine released by your brain the moment your back hits the mattress, your entire body becoming tingly, and a small, pleased smile playing on your lips as you felt rafe pull out of you with a satisfied grunt before getting up and discarding the used condom into his trash can before coming back to bed with a satisfied grin on his lips, your head still slightly fuzzy from the pleasure he'd given you.

you stared up at the ceiling fan, watching as it spun around, feeling the cool air on your face, feeling it take care of the sheen of sweat that covered your skin, rafe pressing small kisses on your bare shoulder, causing shivers to run down your spine. you felt content.

but just like usual, you crashed.

you didn't know what caused it, but hot tears started stinging in your eyes once again, rafe pulling back to look down at you, his lips twitching into a slight frown as his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb moving to brush away a tear that was rolling down, disappearing into your hair.

"shhh, it's okay..." rafe mumbled against your skin, continuing to press more kisses on the soft skin on your shoulder. you knew it was irrational, that there was no reason for you to be crying, that there was no reason for there to be this hollow feeling in your chest, no reason for your head to be filled with doubts and melancholy; but your emotions didn't much care for logic, "i'm here."

rafe pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly against his warm body while his hand stroked your hair, pressing soft kisses on your hairline while tears continued escaping your eyes, your throat stinging with pain. "you're beautiful. you're alright." somehow, rafe had gotten used to you getting emotional after coming down from your orgasm, and he knew there was nothing he could do to get you out of that mindset, except just be there. and he always did that, he always grounded you. he was like your anchor. "you're amazing."

you held onto him as tightly as possible as he continued whispering sweet nothings into your ear, leaving gentle, loving kisses all over your face, wiping your tears away with just a touch of his lips.

and eventually, the hollowness inside of you slowly faded away and was replaced by him, and you looked up at rafe, into his ice-cold eyes that felt so warm whenever you gazed into them, and your lips finally curved up into a small smile, your heart steadying until your heartbeats were in sync.

"there's my girl." rafe says softly, quietly, as if he was being careful not to break the fragile serenity that had now taken over your features. and before he could pull your lips to meet his, you beat him to the punch, so full of him and his adoration, you felt like you'd die if you didn't return it right back to him.

and as your lips met, every thought, every tear, faded away.

[odoraful]

𝑯𝑬𝑳𝑷𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑹𝑬𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑹 𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑨𝑹𝑴 ᯓ 𝑪𝑨𝑳𝑬𝑩

⟡ content: gn!reader ; established relationship ; honey petname hehe ; minor hurt/comfort (which i didn't anticipate honestly, but it seemed to just go in that direction :O) ; 1.5k wc

⟡ a/n: i watched a clip where pepper potts helps tony stark replace like the tech in his heart and my brain went straight to caleb! also i don't know bionics at all so pls suspend disbelief at my descriptions of tech because its definitely all baloney HAHA also still figuring out how to write for caleb so it might be ooc..,, ANYWAY I DIGRESS i do hope it's an enjoyable read!! <33

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It was beyond you why Caleb chose to entrust you with this task, and equally incomprehensible that you agreed to it. Sure, you knew your way around certain weaponry and gadgets—a skill every good Hunter needed to have—but you were certainly no biomechanical engineer. Yet here you were sitting in the living room of Caleb’s home, his bionic arm fully revealed to you and a set of tools being laid out on the table.

“Isn’t the maintenance process… automated?” you asked, voice quivering with trepidation.

Caleb finished arranging the equipment in front of him. A neat array of screwdrivers and wires.

Comparably, there was no indication of hesitancy in his voice when he spoke.

“Yes, it typically is,” he answered, sitting back down on the sofa. He flexed the fingers of his right arm before flashing a smile at you, “but this isn’t one of those typical times.”

His usually comforting smile did little to ease you. You sat down, observing his arm as he continued speaking.

“One of the wires here—” Caleb pointed to the area at his elbow, “—has loosened for some reason. It just needs some reconnecting and I’ll be right as rain.”

He was right. Upon closer inspection, you could see the wire now beginning to detach from the small, round metal piece it was connected to. Occasionally, a tiny spark of electricity flashed from within the empty hole. If this was left unchecked, it would certainly lead to some kind of malfunction.

You squirmed in the cushion. “Wouldn’t telling the Fleet be better? Don’t they have technicians to do this exact thing?”

Caleb's lips quirked upwards, betraying the stiffness he suddenly felt.

Yes, it would be protocol to let the people responsible for this arm know (whether that was the Fleet or not he would never admit the truth of to you), but it was far too bothersome to have them inspect and diagnose for such a minor issue. And then, there was the pain of it as well. Caleb was very familiar with gritting one’s teeth and baring it, but the soulless nature of the Professor’s rooms made him always feel so alone. Despite the bright, sterile lights and the group of masked technicians in white coats attending to his arm, it was always just him and the pain and the desire for everything to be finished already.

Things were a lot different now with you here, finally here with him.

“Oh, your touch is much gentler than anyone in the Fleet, trust me,” he replied.

Though he hadn’t actually answered your question, the line was enough classic Caleb charm to disarm you. He looked fondly over at your expression as your shook your head, trying to stifle your laugh.

“It’s not a full maintenance repair, just a simple replacement. I’ll walk you through every step, don’t worry.”

He patted the space right next to him and you shuffled over.

“Caleb… will this hurt you?”

You couldn’t help but recall the pain he was in when his arm was hooked up to that machine. Your chest grew tight at the memory.

“Not at all, I swear,” he quickly responded. “Like I said, it’s just a replacement.”

He reached over to pick up a screwdriver. Turning his right arm around so you could see his elbow clearer, he used the tool to point out a small screw on the round metal pieces where the wire was being held.

“So, all you need to do is turn this a little to the left, and it should loosen the wire enough to remove it.”

Caleb then reached for the table to pick up a wire the same as the one in his arm. Though, the metallic conductors could be seen emerging out from the ends of the black casing.

“Then, all you need to do is just need to replace it with this.”

You repeated his words over in your mind. Loosen and then replace.

Exhaling a nervous breath, you took the screwdriver. You placed a hand against his arm to help steady yourself. The metal cooled your sweaty palm. Moving closer, you inserted the tip of the screwdriver into the screw, turning it slowly as possible. Afraid that any quick movements might have an adverse effect.

Just as Caleb had said, once the screws were turned, the metal pieces widened and the wire was freely hanging, only held to the arm by its conductive metal.

So focused on making sure your hands weren’t shaking, you didn’t see Caleb’s eyes scrunched shut, taking in deep breaths through his nose.

“Ah!”

Your head snapped up hearing him wince. His eyes peeled open, a weak but sheepish expression on his face.

“Caleb! You promised it wouldn’t hurt you!”

At your accusatory look, he chuckled wearily. “That was nothing! Just a little—” he sucked a sharp breath in “—buzz that’s all.”

Panicked, you put the screwdriver down. “W-what do I do now?!” you stuttered out, holding your hands away from the exposed area.

“Take the old wire out and put the new one in the same spot.” Despite his discomfort, Caleb tempered his voice. His composure kept your fear at bay for the moment. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be alright.”

You nodded. Moving you hand closer again, you held onto the wire delicately. You pulled slowly. Thankfully, it released without any tugging needed.

“Mhm, there you go. You’re doing great,” Caleb reassured.

The conductive wire unfurled as if aware it was being replaced. You picked up the wire Caleb had held previously in demonstration and lined it up in the empty space. Similarly, the wire reattached itself.

“Now tighten it with the screwdriver.”

Turning the screws once again, you felt the round metal pieces tighten around the wire, holding it securely in place. The repair appeared successful.

You let out a long sigh, relief washing over you. You looked at Caleb’s face, hoping you wouldn’t find him pale and stricken. Instead, he was smiling. He turned his bionic arm around, bending his elbow and wiggling his fingers. It looked like it was back to normal.

“Look at that,” he beamed. “I knew you could do it, honey.”

Your laugh was filled with disbelief at his complete faith in you. “Please don’t ask me to do this again.” You were still slightly delirious by everything that just happened.

“What if I don’t have anyone but you?” he responded.

You knew that statement wasn’t true. There were plenty of people he could rely on to assist him with this. He was the Colonel of the Farspace Fleet after all. Yet, there was a softness in his tone and a distance in his eyes as he spoke. He really believed that to be the truth.

You looped your pinkie finger around his (still hesitant if your craftsmanship had fully worked). Caleb glanced down at your movement. He saw your tenderness and there was a phantom sensation of warmth right where your fingers connected. Though, he knew it was all just his brain and its sensory signals trying desperately to reconstruct a feeling he once had.

“But what if I messed up a-and something bad had happened? I just don’t want to hurt you.”

Caleb enveloped his hand around yours. His touch was cold and metallic, but his words were anything but.

“Nothing you do could ever hurt me.”

The color of his bionic arm began to change. It flickered in the same way a holographic screen did when you put your hand through it. His arm was recalibrating to project the perfect color, and to mimic the feeling of real skin. As fast as you could blink, it returned to its usual appearance.

Caleb squeezed your hand. “See? Right as rain.”

The sudden mixture of your fear and sadness made you crave being in his hold. You pulled him into a hug. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you buried you face into his shoulder.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he soothed, rubbing your back. “I’m still here with you, arm fully functional.”

“I know…” you remained glued to his shoulder, voice muffling.

“Nothing bad will happen to me,” he said, coaxing you gently both in speech and touch as he grazed his finger against your cheek. “Could I see you? Please?”

You lifted your head up, leaning back. Your eyes were glossy with tears and Caleb felt as though he’d been stabbed in the chest. He kissed you on the forehead. With his thumb, he carefully swiped at your bottom lashes.

“I'm sorry, honey. I don’t know what I was thinking wanting you to do this,” he murmured, his warm breath tickling your skin at his closeness. “You don’t have to do this for me next time.”

“It’s okay,” you sniffed, shaking your head. “Now that I know what to expect, I think I can help you if this happens again.”

The shock soon passed. Feeling the rise and fall of Caleb’s chest grounded you. You both held each other until the pain faded, talking to each other quietly in the embrace.

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[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.”

[my-castles-crumbling]

beautiful - april 26 - jegulus - CW: mention of blood - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 513

James wouldn’t have heard the screams if he hadn’t been up, heading back to his room from the loo. It was a coincidence, really, but a lucky one, all things considered. Even though there was a very obvious silencing charm on Regulus Black’s door, his yelling could still be heard–just a little–from the hall.

Without thinking about it, James slipped inside, shaking and tense, ready for a fight, though he’d left his wand behind in his room. His instincts had completely taken over–every inch of his body reacted to the distress of the younger boy that he’d been quietly admiring for far too long. He’d been doing his very best to give Regulus his space ever since he’d appeared on the Potters’ doorstep, bloody and disoriented, two weeks ago. They’d had something–he wasn’t sure what, but something–before. Something clandestine and pure. But Regulus had been so scared that he tried not to push, to just enjoy what he was given: fleeting glances and quick kisses in dark classrooms. He figured the best thing for the younger boy, after arriving somewhat safely,  was time with Sirius, so he stayed away. But his resolve broke completely the second he heard those screams.

“Reg?” he whispered, shutting the door behind himself and quickly walking to Regulus’s bed, where the Slytherin was positively thrashing in his bed, yelling out incomprehensible words. “Reg, love, hey–”

Unsure if he was doing the right thing, he sat on the edge of the mattress and shook the boy gently, continuing to murmur his name, along with comforting nonsense he wasn’t really thinking about. After a few more screams, Regulus jumped a bit and his eyes wrenched open to lock with James’s own.

“J-James?” he stuttered, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he nodded, reaching forward to tuck a few damp strands of Regulus’s dark, curly hair behind his ear. “I’m here. You were having a nightmare.”

“Sorry,” Regulus mumbled, grimacing and beginning to turn away. “Sorry I woke you, you can go.”

But James could see him shaking. “I can–can I–stay?” he asked nervously, gesturing to the bed.

The look Regulus gave him was one of suspicious shock. 

“Just to hold you! I’m not asking–that would be–I just want to help,” he stammered, realizing how it might sound. “I don’t like when you’re scared,” he added in a small voice.

For a moment, Regulus almost smiled. “Get in, then,” he said, pulling back the blankets.

Eagerly, James joined him, pulling him close, revelling in the feeling of holding his very heart against his chest. “You…you look beautiful,” he said, knowing it probably wasn’t the time, but completely blown away by everything that was Regulus, gray eyes staring up at him, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

Again…almost a smile. “Thanks, Potter,” he murmured. “I…I’m glad I’m here. With you.”

It was the closest Regulus had ever gotten to confessing feelings, and James felt warmth and joy wash over him in gentle waves. “Me, too,” he answered, pressing a kiss to Regulus’s forehead. “So much.”

[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♡

[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.

[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 )

[idkfitememate]

Okay this is actually really interesting! I can imagine DSC!C(deap sea creature creator) Rising up from the sea and the people just wondering why there's a giant mountain in the middle of the sea, only to realize its a god damn CRAB.

Take a Trip to Crab Mountain

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : Freminette (+ Fontaine) x Deep Sea Crab!Reader

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 1.8k

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : Fluff

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : Crab went through a growth spurt… kinda??? Because nation sized crab couldn’t logically fit anywhere if they truly nation sized… listen guys I’m trying to make it make sense but it it 1 am ToT

Freminette kind of knew his siblings didn’t exactly believe him when he told them about you.

Lyney chuckled lightly while Lynette’s ears twitched and tail flicked. The blonde simply took the teasing and reasoned that perhaps it was for the best they didn’t believe him - that meant he could keep you alll to himself.

Weekends were now spent you taking instead a whole diving bell down to your domain so he could spend more time with you. Of course he was asked about where he was but a simple story about ‘extra training’ was enough to get his sibling and Father off his back… for now anyway.

And it’s not like it was a whole lie! It was honestly kind of true - you’d spar with him, even though he could tell you were absolutely holding back every time, he took no offense. Plus, the dense pressure of the depths made swinging his claymore harder, and limited his Vision use. So all in all he was ‘training’… about twenty-five percent of the time…

“F… R… E… M… Y..?” Your voice broke the diver from his thoughts. He quickly continued to suit up and slipped out of the Bell.

The water was cold but Freminette had long since grown accustomed to the chill - drifting gently towards your dimmed form. You chittered, the low sound reverberating through the water.

Freminette landed on your much longer pincer claw, moving to sit on it as you happily brought it to your face. You chittered happily, singing some incomprehensible nonsense to Freminette while he seriously nodded - taking in everything as though it was an order.

In these depths, the boy genuinely felt heard by you, even as you gently walked around his bell in a pacing-like motion, akin to himself while thinking. Your backside would lighten every now and then - either in emphasis of whatever you were speaking on or simply sparking.

He hadn’t gotten the gall to ask what exactly was on your back - looking more like a small city than the crown he had assumed beforehand - as clearly it was element based. He wanted to figure it out on his own - which was hard when he could swear on the Hydro Dragon that he saw not just Hydro-esk swirls coming off your back, but also slight jolts of Electro and Cryo. Sometimes Freminette would squint and see Geo pillars crumble off your back, Dendro seemed to crawl up your claws at times but died off before it could get to him, hell, he was sure at some point he saw both Anemo and Pyro burst from your shell. Which should’ve been impossible considering the depths you both were at-

Freminette was shook from his thoughts by you, eyestalk close enough for the pupil to engulf his form. Worried eye looked between him and vibrating diving bell. Wait.

Vibrating diving bell…!

HIS ALARM!! SOMEONE WAS TRYING TO PULL HIM UP!!

You watched as the boy scrambled to swim off your pincer claw, struggling to get to the bell. You twisted your body to help him over faster, now understanding the situation, but it was no use as you both watch the bell begin its ascent. You watched as Freminette tried fruitlessly to swim upward, his speed not matching the bells frantic tugs upward. After a while of watching the bell rise higher and higher, it eventually left your dim glow and disappeared into the surrounding darkness. You winced as Freminette sunk down back onto your claw.

His shoulders began to lightly shake while you rapidly looked between him and the darkness of the sea.

Freminette stifled quiet sobs so they wouldn’t be picked up by his microphone for you to hear. He hadn’t even thought that - how could be be so dumb as to not consider - he didn’t think that - his jumbled thoughts swirled like the surrounding water, no longer offering the same comfort as before, now suffocating him. at the very least when the bell reached the surface they could pull him up. It’s wasn’t like he was trapped down here forever!.. They wouldnt just assume he’d die… right?!

You continued to stare out into the great beyond… considering while the boy on your claw broke down. You huffed and turned back to him.

“F… R… E… M… Y…” You grunted out, snapping Freminette out from his breakdown.

“H-Huh?-“

“H… O… L… D… O… N…”

He watched with a dropped jaw as your body crouched, joints groaning like a machine just warming up for use after years of neglect. Your legs and back began to rapidly ignite - a swirl of Pyro and Electo clawing up and down your spine and legs deep into the shadowed depths. You swirled your pincer catching the line Freminette was attached to in your grip so he wouldn’t go flying.

Your back creaked and groaned, and with a sharp crack - large fin-like structures spread out for miles in both directions. Before Freminette could speak, a burst of energy - a combustion of sorts - exploded off your back and down to the floor of the ocean, lighting to way down so Freminette could see just what you truly looked like for a split moment.

He couldn’t describe it if he tried.

Suddenly he was feeling the full force of the oceans pressure on his suit as you both propelled upwards at a speed he would’ve never once assumed was possible.

To the surface you would go for him.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🎂🍧🥮୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

“What do you mean he wasn’t in the bell?” Arlecchino asked. Lyney shook his head, a slight quiver in his voice as he spoke.

“Everything looked fine! I mean, there was untouched food in there for Archons sake! He just… he wasn’t in there Father.” Lynette stood off to the side, surveying the ocean surrounding them.

The trio wasn’t too far off from Fontaine, not secluded per se but definitely not in the general populaces vicinity. Arlecchino sighed, trying to keep the worry from her eyes. She pinched the bridge of her nose and walked to the edge of the peer to stare down into the water.

Lyney continued to search the inside of the diving bell for any sort of clue while Lynette suddenly perked up.

“Does anyone else feel that?” She spoke up. Both Arlecchino and Lyney both looked to her, then each other.

Finally the ground shook, light at first before rapidly devolving into an earthquake. Both Lyney and Lynette struggled while Arlecchino quickly and quietly found her balance and looked out towards the sea. The water bubbled and splashed against the shore as a shadow slowly formed beneath the surface - overtaking a size comparable to that of Fontaine itself.

Then, it hapoened.

The ocean receded quickly, draining out of Fontaine and surrounding oceans, then exploding outward as something burst forth from depths. Alrecchino grabbed Lyney and Lynette before they’d go flying, using both her body and Pyro to shield them from the subsequent waves and rain that came from the angered sea.

Long, thick and spiked legs slammed into the earth, sliding and creating craters as whatever it was landed. The legs spanned over the sea, bridging the gaps between Fontaines lands. As torrential rains calmed and slowed to drizzles, The Harbinger looked to the shadowed sky.

Something large, one could argue larger than the city of Fontaine - perhaps an island of some kind - blocked the sun, held by the long legs the surrounded them. Steam exhaulted from its body like the Meka, the shell cooling from a burning hot red into a much duller color.

“Father!!” Arlecchino immediately looked skyward, stopping to look back down as the legs moved, taking steps to adjust the new island. Large claw-like appendages came into her vision, blurred by clouds. She squinted at the echo, finally letting go of the siblings in her grasp. Slight rain continued to fall, as she stared upward to the beast before her.

Only the sounds of breathing and rain were heard for a moment, before something splashed into whatever was left of the ocean. Arlecchino moved quickly, pulling whatever it was from the water with shocking speed and pulling her scythe out to point towards the humanoids neck. She paused.

With quivering hands it removed its helmet.

“… Freminette?” She breathed. He dropped his helmet and nodded.

She looked towards the sky beast - which was flexing wing-like structures and doing what she could only assume was stare at them - then back at her shaking son.

“… You have a lot of explaining to do.”

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍡🍪🍬୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Arlecchino, Lyney, Lynette and Freminette sat in a room with Neuvillette, Clorinde and Furina. Outside you continued to simply exist in the mist.

“So…” Neuvillette started, “How do you come to meet this… creature-“ “Y/n.” Freminette interrupted.

“A-Ah! Not to interrupt Monsieur Neuvillette, but they do have a name. And I would like it if you would refer to them as such.” Furina snorted while Neuvillette hummed.

“… Understood. How did you come to meet ’Y/n’, then?” Neuvillette corrected. Arlecchino looked down to the fidgeting Freminette who didn’t look up to meet anyone’s gaze.

“It was an accident really… I dived just a little too deep and uh… ran into them? Well more like they ran into me but-“ Freminette stopped himself from rambling, taking a small breath.

“It was a total accident.” He finished. Neuvillette hummed again and nodded.

“Do you think they’d pose us any harm?” That had Arlecchino glaring. The entire meeting was agreed to sure, but that didn’t mean she liked it. She clicked her tongue, and looked away.

“No!” Freminette gasped. He looked shocked before regaining his composure.

“They would never,” he continued, “… after all the time I’ve spent with them I don’t think I’ve ever even seen them eat haha… hm…” he stopped, Lyney looking towards him.

“Wait. All those weekends you were ‘out training were you really-“ Lyney gasped.

“Freminette! Lying to your siblings! I can’t believe you.” He tutted, the younger looking towards him with an annoyed expression and a whispered ‘is now really the time?-‘ only to be met with more tutting.

“Lyney has a point Freminette.” Arlecchino spoke up, shocking Freminette straight up.

“What would’ve happened if we couldn’t find you hm? If you had somehow forgotten to tell us where you were? Or if you went out entirely on your own and a storm struck. What then?” With every worry voiced, Freminette winced, a practiced ‘sorry father’ leaving his lips. He was only met with a hum.

“We thank you for being so compliant,” Neuvillette started again, “but we hope you understand that we’ll have to keep an eye on this ‘Y/n’ for a while, understood?” Freminette nodded silently, eyes moving out to your still form.

“F… R… E… M… Y…?” Your voice thundered through the air, shaking the ground and buildings.

“Ah. So that’s what they sound like above water.” Freminette spoke while everyone picked themselves up from the sudden sound.

You chittered outside, enjoying the mist and sun.

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : Coughs and dies… el. Eldritch crab god reader my beloved… I keep imagining Crab!Reader as this weird fucked up mash between a Coconut Crab, Mantis Shrimp, and uh… idk and fucked up lobsters help-

[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."

[mangobabygirl]

Quaaludes | Luigi Mangione/Reader

Summary: You convince your boyfriend Luigi Mangione to spike your drink at a frat party.

Warnings: Smut (Minors DNI) Drugged Sex, Intoxication Kink (quaaludes + alcohol), Rough Sex, Hair-pulling, Nipple Play, Unprotected Sex, P in V, Cunnilingus

Crossposted from AO3

⊹₊⟡⋆ 𖦹 ℞ 𖦹 ⋆⟡ ₊ ⊹

“Quaaludes?” Luigi questions, holding the zip block bag of pills in his hands, “where the hell did you even get this?”

“Don’t ask,” you reply, wanting to leave out the details of bribing your sketchy roommate who happens to be majoring in chemistry.

Luigi takes a pill in his hand, inspecting it with raised eyebrows. “How old are these anyways?”

“They’re from India I think. They still make them there y’know.”

Luigi cocks his head, giving you a side-eye. “Of course I know that. Still thought I would ask.” He rubs the pill in between his fingers, begetting a brief sigh. “Do I even want to know what you plan to do with these?” He’s staring at you intently, his thick eyebrows knitted together above his piercing brown gaze.

You blush, feeling all the blood run cold in your veins, your body stiffening. “I was hoping you could-“

“You want me to spike your drink with this tonight,” he says plainly.

“I- how’d you know?”

“Mio Caro, I fucked you while you were sleeping last week. I figured you’d want to… take it to the next level eventually.”

You open your mouth to say something, but no words manage to come out, leaving you jaw-slacked and speechless as Luigi shakes his head.

“You know this is incredibly dangerous, right?”

“Is that a no, then?”

He stares at you, a small smirk appearing across his face. “I didn’t say that.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ 𖦹 ℞ 𖦹 ⋆⟡ ₊ ⊹

The music of Calvin Harris blasts through your ears as the smell of sweat fills the humid air. You’re slumped next to Luigi on the couch, flailed across his lap, nursing your fourth solo cup of Pink Whitney. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling the effects; the room feels dizzy around you, the various bodies in conversation a huge blur of slow-moving figures. You take a large swig of your drink, finishing it in a fluid motion and tossing the red solo cup onto the sticky floor below.

Luigi strokes your hair, shifting his weight under you. He is unmistakably hard; his erection shifts between your legs as his other hand gropes your ass sneakily, his lips kissing the side of your neck.

“Luuuuu-“ you protest slightly, your words coming out slurred.

“Shhh, it’s okay baby,” he whispers into your ear, grinding ever so slightly against you.

Your body turns to rubber as you go limp on top of him. You close your eyes as you feel every muscle sinking into the equivalent of a warm bath, your arms and legs twinging with numbness.

“Feeling off?” He whispers teasingly into your ear.

You just nod, your mouth feeling as slacked as the rest of your body. You stare back at Luigi, the astigmatism from the various fairy lights making him look like an angelic, blurred figure.

Even through your drugged haze, however, you could see his eyes were unbridled with lust. You felt his erection grind against your ass, his fingers dragging lazily along the curves of your hips. His lips continue to run against your neck, his breath shaky as he sucks gently against your nape.

“Us tares,” you murmur, your words slurred and incomprehensible

“Upstairs, hmm?” he whispers as you feel him grin devilishly against your ear.

He suddenly lifts you up bridal style in a fluid motion, and your body feels like it’s levitating. You watch yourself swerve through the sea of sweaty bodies, Luigi apologizing profusely as he moves through the crowd:

“ ‘scuse me”

“Sorry”

“Yeah she’s okay man, just going to take her upstairs for a little bit.”

“Need to get through”

You hear the sound of wooden stairs clank beneath his giant stomping feet, the yellow light of the hallway illuminating you as the music becomes muffled. A door clicks open, and you feel your body slowly being lifted onto Luigi’s twin bed.

He towers over you, his hand slowly lifting up your arm, which falls down with a dull “thud” against the mattress.

“You can’t feel a thing, can you baby?”

You just nod, feeling a rush of adrenaline course through your body. Luigi looks at you like a predator about to strike against its cornered prey, his darkened eyes pouring into yours with indescribable intensity. He’s biting his lip, his hands rubbing against your cheek like he’s wiping away invisible tears.

“I could do anything to you,” he says, shifting his body on top of yours. You look into his eyes and see straight fire, no hint of mercy in sight.

His lips collide against yours, prying them open with his tongue as he slides it down your throat. You let out a moan, unable to physically resist as he grinds his erection against your center.

“Can’t move a muscle,” he moans, his teeth gently toying with your earlobe, “those GABA receptors in your brain are in overdrive right now, inhibiting your nerve cells from firing. In other words, you’re a perfect fuck doll, mi amor,” he explains, and you’re practically dripping from his sexy nerdism.

His hands move down your body, stopping at the hem of your shirt as he lifts you slightly, adjusting your position. You watch him move your arms above your head as he yanks off your tank top with the other, his eyes transfixed on your now-exposed breasts.

He takes one in your mouth, sucking relentlessly, his teeth biting your hardening nipple. You wince in pain, which earns a dark chuckle from him as he clamps down even harsher.

Tears prick your eyes as he kisses between your breasts, his mouth pulling against your skin, leaving a firm red bruise. He continues his assault on your body as he moves down your chest. You hiss as he sucks and bites your skin, covering you in red welts.

“Gonna let everyone at this party know who you belong to, pretty girl.”

He stops once he gets to your center, pulling your legs against his chest. He muffles a string of curses as he pulls your pants and underwear off, struggling slightly with your dull appendages.

He looks over your stark naked body, as if admiring a renaissance figure carved from marble. His expression softens, and you forget for a second about the situation as his eyes gaze into yours with adoration. Slowly, he leans downward, planting a kiss on each inner thigh. “My capolavoro,” he mutters between your legs, gradually spreading them apart.

Your legs fall to each side like jello, offering no resistance as he dives headfirst into your cunt. His nose rubs against your clit as you feel his tongue slip in between your folds, lapping against them and sucking your juices.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he murmurs into you. You feel yourself getting wetter beneath him, your hips desperately struggling to buck across his face. All that happens is a pathetic attempt to shift your muscles, which feels like they weigh a thousand pounds each. You huff from desperation, making Luigi look up at you, smiling deviously.

“Pathetic,” he says huskily, “your body only listens to me now.”

He dives back into your pussy, his tongue running circles across your clit like a man starved. You feel yourself getting close, internally teetering on the edge as your body laid motionless on the bed.

You moan loudly as you cum against his face, tingles running up and down your body, your cunt gushing with juices upon his visage.

In response, he captures your lips in a bruising kiss. You taste yourself as he shoves his tongue down your throat. He explores every crevice of your mouth, massaging your tongue with his as your mouth stays slacked, open obediently against his.

He quickly moves to take off his jeans and boxers, showcasing his large erection. It’s thick and pulsating, hard and pink under the lighting of his bedside lamp. He pumps himself a few times, spreading the precum over his cock, looking down at you while he does it.

“I’m going to take you now,” he says with a grin, “and there’s nothing you can do about it. Just sit there for me like a pretty little troia.”

He spreads your legs effortlessly, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock. You whimper, desperate for contact, which earns a rough tug of your hair, a stinging sensation running through your scalp. You feel his hand grip roughly onto your hip as you meet eyes with his. His eyebrows are furred in unwavering need, his pupils wide and animalistic as he buries himself inside of you.

“You take my cock so effortlessly like this,” he observes, and it’s true: you feel your body’s natural resistance almost extinct, your cunt taking him in smoothly, obediently. With a fluid motion, he sheathes himself completely inside you. You feel every inch of his hard length throbbing within you, stretching you out yet fitting you like a glove simultaneously.

He starts to move, slamming his cock inside of you brutally at a quickened pace.

You moan, your eyes involuntarily rolling back at the sensation of Luigi filling you up over and over again. His hands roughly grope your breasts as he shifts his position slightly; you feel him roughly squeeze them as he fucks himself into you, moaning loudly as he hits your g-spot.

“Fuuck,” he groans, “I love seeing you pathetic like this. Completely at my mercy.” He continues his relentless assault on your pussy, chasing his own high as he picks up his pace, slamming himself into you again and again.

“You like being used like a ragdoll- fuck- taking my whole fucking cock like the drugged up slut you are,” he rambles out, “I should have drugged you sooner if I knew your pussy would feel this fucking great, taking me in so easily.”

You watch his frame go rigid as he takes in shaky breaths, his orgasm soon impending upon him. Your own body begins to tingle, a warm sensation pouring from your core, spreading throughout your body.

“I’m going to cum,” you tell him.

“Come for me angel,” he grunts in response, tightening his grip on your hip as he thrusts deeply into you, hitting all the right notes inside you.

Your orgasm feels different this time; there’s not a tightening then spasming of your muscles, or an arching of your body around his length. Instead, there’s warmth and euphoria, the numbed tingling sensation in your body spreading from your head to your toes, wracking you in wave after wave. You moan in bliss as you climax, feeling fuzzy and slightly dizzy as you close your eyes and let go, giving into the pleasure surrounding you like a cocoon.

“Fuck,” he groans, spasming inside you as your insides are painted white. He breathes in deep, tightening his grip around you as he takes you in his arms, thrusting slowly within you as you take every last drop of his seed.

You stare back at each other, both of you shocked by the intensity of your orgasms. He gives you a chaste peck on the lips before collapsing along side you, holding you tightly in his arms as he brings your head to rest against his chest.

You feel the downer effects of the drug kick in with your post-coital bliss, a drowsy snugness overtaking every bone in your body.

“Luigi, I’m about to doze off,” you tell him, feeling heavier and heavier with each passing second.

He runs his fingers down your back, his other hand playing with your hair as he kisses your forehead. “I got you, princess,” he whispers into your ear as your eyes flutter shut against his chest.

You lull into a state of unconsciousness as his strong arms grip tighter around you, feeling safe and loved as you slip off into sleep.