#i NEED someone to be mundane and plain with

[paragonrobits]

some important calvin and hobbes facts in case you haven't read the original comic strip in a long time or only absorbed stuff on it from memes and out of context bits on here:

Calvin's last name has never been given, and neither has any of his parent's names. This was actually why his uncle Max only showed up for a brief storyline; the creator of the comic, Bill Watterson, ultimately felt that while it was fine to have him as someone for his parents to talk to, it felt far too awkward to never have Max refer to them by name and he never made a return appearance.

The general tone of the comic is fairly light-hearted, with a big emphasis on goofy slapstick comedy contrasted by clever wordplay and often surprising adult-centered jokes that'll hit you like a slap. A big part of the comedy is, as Watterson put it (paraphrased) "It's really funny to me when people express deeply stupid ideas with really fancy terminology." One notable example you might have seen is that one bit where Calvin asks his mom for money to buy a Satan-worshiping rock album and his mom replies that there's nothing genuine about them and they're just putting on the attitude for shock value, and comisserates with Calvin as he deplores that mainstream nihilism can't be trusted. He concludes that childhood is disillusioning.

There is a LOT of criticism of the extreme materialism and selfish mentality of the late 80s, when the comic was initially written. This may go a long way to explain how its aged so well; much of what it criticizes resonates well with people today.

Bill Watterson views comic strips a legitimate form of artwork, and repeatedly fought to have more space to draw more beautiful and artistic backgrounds, which was a very hard fight and unpopular even with other comic strip artists. He eventually did win some compromises and a lot of Calvin And Hobbes' artwork shows it, with the use of space to indicate time as well as a sharp contrast between the often plain environments of mundane life contrasted by the wildly beautiful imagery of Calvin's imagination (which often sports realistic depictions in an art shift of sorts).

Hobbes is explicitly not an imaginary friend, by word of Watterson himself. We don't know WHAT he is exactly, and Hobbes is apparently unaware of the strange nature of his reality; people look at him and only see an ordinary stuffed tiger plushie, but he has a tangible effect on the world that would be physically impossible for Calvin to do on his own. He's apparently been around for a while, and was apparently around when Calvin was a young baby.

On that note; Hobbes has implicitly killed (notably treated as both a gag and also with the vibe of 'he's a tiger, duh') and while he doesn't do it again on-screen, he doesn't have any moral issues about it. Calvin claims that he's never had trouble bringing Hobbes to school because the last time he did, Hobbes killed and ate a bully named Tommy Chestnut and simply comments that it was gross and he needed a bath. Calvin's tried to repeat this again, but Hobbes was grossed out at the thought having to eat a kid raw and not being allowed to use an oven first, or complaining that children are too fattening.

Hobbes became gradually less human-like in body language and more like an actual cat in both body language and behavior; this was due to Watterson drawing more inspiration from his cat, who also inspired a lot of Hobbes' running gags, such as pouncing on Calvin when he got home. Several years into the syndication of the strip, Watterson's cat passed away, and he did a tribute to her with a comic strip of the two of them agreeing to try to dream together so they can keep playing when they have to sleep; Watterson's commentary (if I recall right), remarks on his cat: "We can see each other again in dreams."

[satorurize]

Love me, love me, love me, love me more!

Pairing: Yandere! Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Warnings and Content: MDNI (I'll haunt you, seriously), yandere themes, implied consent, stalking, obsession, murder, gore, sex, delusional satoru, he's unhinged and does not care about consequences as usual, creampies (lots), gojo has a breeding kink, masturbation, perv gojo, sex, fingering. Dead dove.

Plot : Megumi has a new nanny and Satoru is so so..lovesick.

Yandere!Satoru knew he fumbled the moment he fell in love with Megumi's nanny. He had hired you because he couldn't provide for the time and sufficient emotional care that a second grader needed to be a normal person. After all that the boy went through and then being under care of someone like him, Satoru didn't think that his Gumi-chan would ever be normal.

But then he met you, you were everything he was not. Gojo Satoru was impulsive, eccentric, the strongest, he shone so brightly that the sun was put to shame. And you were so normal, so mundane, you simply seemed to blend in with everyone like a lovely, plain chrysanthemum that could mix in with every bouquet.

there was truly nothing special about you in comparison to him.

Perhaps that was why he found you so beautiful. You weren't complicated, you were too simple and perhaps this absence of simplicity was what made his fast paced, glorious life so lack luster.

He knew he had to have you.

One thing you realised about Yandere!Satoru is that, he is a child in a grown man's body. You had seen him being much more petulant than Megumi, but with time your surmises around him had reduced and your edges had softened. You would see the flash of tiredness in his eyes sometimes, something about those azures in those moments would tell you a piece of his story. You didn't ask a lot but you knew. He was tired.

Being a full-time nanny to Megumi also meant, keeping meal preps ready. It had become a habit to put together a few extras after noticing that Gojo would often make it a point to eat them. He probably ate it, dead in the night when he was back from his daily missions. No one witnessed his joy of eating a homecooked meal at 3AM.

Yandere!Satoru who would take the advantage of your softened demeanor towards him and flirt with you shamelessly even after seeing the ring adorned on your pretty little finger. He kept affirming to himself that it wasn't real and whatever he would imagine, would materialize to be true.

"You do a terrific job, looking after Megumi you know?" He'd muse, in the usual teasing tone of his as his hand trails to your chin, gently tipping your head up so you'd look into his eyes and his eyes only, his gaze intense and unwavering.

"I can't help but wonder if there is room in your heart for me too~"

But then his playful demeanor would drop away when his eyes would fall onto that pathetic, miserly looking gold band after you'd tell him to stop flirting with you with finality in your tone. That ring wasn't even high in carats, it was an alloy and yet you would it wear it such pride. It would tug at his heartstrings, his darling deserved so much better.

"I see, didn't realize that, miss.." He lied through his teeth with such insouciance and a smirk, masking his disappointment as if even a petite speck on your arm would be amiss with his six eyes

Yandere!Satoru, who was never religious but started obsessively manifesting you after learning about your husband. What a hassle. Why couldn't he just have you, like everything else in his life?

Yandere!Satoru who would think of you riding him to tears, closing his eyes to conjure the lewd image of your tits bouncing as he fucked you upward, anchoring his large hands on your waist. All while zestfully fisting his cock, wrapped like a gift with your cute pink panties that he quite subtly stole when you were staying over to care for Megumi for a few days because he had to fly somewhere else to tackle off a special grade curse, substituted for the warmth of your velvety walls. For now.

Yandere!Satoru who knew you had no clue that he teleported from the location far away just to steal your panties.

Yandere!Satoru who also knew that you had no idea that he had tapped in your phone, having his hawking watch over who you texted and talked to.

Yandere!Satoru who couldn't be nonchalant anymore the minute he saw you texting your husband as you watched over Megumi, on how badly you wanted a baby after being a nanny to the young boy. That was his job, you were his, afterall.

Yandere!Satoru who felt angry and stupid because manifesting you didn't work. He knew he could never trust the higher powers with the people he loved so he took the matter in his own hands.

Yandere!Satoru who stood over your husband's dead body, ripped to shreds when you returned home. The worries of your husband not texting you back for hours now washed with horror and pain.

His handsome, angelic face was unnervingly calm and composed, his blue eyes amalgamated with mania and hollowness while he held her husband's filthy heart in his bloodied hands, a scowl of disgust washing over his face as he looked at the organ, darting his eyes at you almost pitifully, crushing it in a glimpse before walking to you.

"What a shame..your husband was quite bothersome, wouldn't you say? I had to take out the trash, y'know..got sick of him getting in the way" He'd speak in a smooth, saccharinely affectionate tone that you knew was empty. He ignored the shock laced on your face, the paleness of your skin, the fear in your eyes and your flinch which he found oh so..adorable, as he caressed your cheek with the strong metallic scent of crimson lingering.

"Let's play a game!" He brightly smiled, clapping his hands together which made you furrow your brows, a dry gulp going down your throat. The room only filled with the momentary sounds of his footsteps and your shaky, palpable breathing.

"The game is...name things you love about Gojo Satoru!!" He chimed, so happily that it sent a shiver down your spine, insinuating nausea.

"S-stay away..."

He frowned, titling his head as his empty eyes bored into yours.

"Wrong answer darling..the answer is Satoru, isn't it..?" He leaned in, cupping your face and tenderly kissing your lips.

Yandere!Satoru who teleported you two immediately to his estate as he pulled away from the kiss, your back hitting the silk sheets that screamed luxury.

Yandere!Satoru who would see you giving in to his gentle kisses all over your body, who'd feel your pulsating guilt and shame in your eyes while your pussy pulsated with pleasure having his fingers in your gushing cunt knuckles deep.

"Why did you say no to me, hm..? You're milking my fingers baby..fuuuck...I love you so much.." He whispered while his face nuzzled into your cheek. His hot breath mingled with phrases of love felt so gross, so filthy, so sinful but you saw yourself liking it, even after seeing your husband in such a state.

Yandere!Satoru, who'd dump his cum again in your oozing pussy even when his cock felt raw after kissing your cervix so many times, painting it white. Now finally pulling out with a squelch, he immediately replaced his two thick fingers to push his load back in.

"You're gonna be such a pretty mama baby..I will make your wish come true.."

©𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐢𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

Plagiarism not authorised. Please consider reblogging and liking if you enjoyed the content :)

More on m.list!

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi! Can i request for reader x batboys where they’re dating but reader doesn’t know they’re vigilantes. One day they ( as vigilantes) flirt with her then reader tells them that she’s happily taken. Thank you!

I’m only doing dick and Jason cuz my brain doesn’t know what to put for Tim or Damian. And this is probably a boat load of words that make no fucking sense when reading it, so I apologise.

Jason

‘You look lost sweetheart.’ You heard from above you only to see the silhouette of the vigilante red hood.

‘I can assure you I’m not.’ You replied straightforward, wanting nothing more to get home and cuddle up to Jason in your shared bed, after all it had been a long day and you weren’t in the mood to be chatted up by anyone, you were loyal to Jason no matter what.

‘I’m only trying to help.’ Red Hood tells you as he dropped down from the roof and landed safely in front of you before standing up to his full height.

‘I understand that but when you added sweetheart I’m naturally going to assume you’re attempting to hit on me.’ You said with your arms crossed over your chest. ‘I’m more than happily taken by the sweetheart man I’ve ever known.’ You added as a boast because it was more than the truth, and you could spend the entire week talking about how much better Jason was then any other man in existence.

Jason could feel his heart melt when you said that and was half tempted to rip his helmet off to kiss you senselessly, but he decided to be cheeky and milk this for all it’s worth if it meant hearing you speak about him in high praise. ‘Oh yeah? Does he treat you right?’ He asked as he leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, reading himself to hear whatever you had to say.

‘He treats me as though I made the stars in the sky and looks at me like I did too,’ you began smiling as you remembered the fondness in Jason’s eyes whenever you did something mundane, ‘I could just be standing there in a plain shirt and a pair of his boxers, looking like absolute shit but he would still tell me I looked stunning.’ You added as you felt the smile stretch further across your lips.

God you loved that teddy bear of a man so much you didn’t know where to put it most of the time.

You noticed that Red Hood didn’t say anything but that was because beneath the helmet Jason was fighting through urge to hold you in arms and never let you go, smother your face in kisses because of how fucking cute you were being without trying, however he knew that he better get back home before you did if he ever wants to do any of that and so he clears his throat and says. ‘It’s good that he does treat you like that, you deserve it more than you know, I bet he’d be devastated if something were to happen to you, go to war even.’

You furrowed your brows as Red Hoods words before shrugging. ‘I mean…yeah I guess, he’d do anything to get me back. I hear him whispering it when he thinks I’m asleep.’ You add as you felt a sense of familiarity from the vigilante but decided to brush it off when you checked the time on your phone and winced. ‘I should get going and I’m sure you-‘ you went to look over to where you saw the vigilante last, only to be greeted with the sight of nothing. ‘-do too…’ you trailed off before shrugging your shoulders and continuing on your way home.

Unaware of the fact that Jason was still watching you from the rooftops above, knowing damn well that he would indeed go to war for you, his beloved little chipmunk.

Dick

‘What’s someone as pretty as you doing in a place like this? It’s dangerous you know.’ Nightwing practically purred.

‘I’ve walked through here multiple times before and I can tell you it’s safer than most in Gotham.’ You told him, crossing your arms, unamused.

Nightwing raised his hands in defence. ‘Just trying to look out for a cutie like you is all, no need to bite my head off.’ Dick had a feeling that something might happen on your walk home tonight and decided to keep constant tabs on you the entire night as Nightwing. He could tell you were tired and just outright done with everything but he’d rather you be safe on your journey home than not, regardless of how safe your route home was.

‘I’m pretty sure there’s other people you could be saving instead of flirting with me. I’m taken for your information, and happily so by the most prettiest and albeit goofiest man alive.’ You told him with a smile as your mind drifted to imagining Dick sitting in your shared bed with Hayley in his sleepwear, snoring loudly despite trying to stay up for your return.

‘Pretty? How so?’ Nightwing asked as he eagerly leant in forward to hear you. Dick just wanted an excuse to hear you gush about him without knowing that he was right in front of you.

You sighed at the aspect of having to spend even more time with a vigilante that seemingly didn’t take the hint. ‘He’s got a smile that could light up an entire city for future generations, a laugh so pretty and addicting that you’d be more then willing to make yourself look like an idiot just to hear it again, and he’s got a beautiful set of eyes that you could get lost in no matter what because they’re just so…enriched in colour.’ You finished, the image of Dick’s gorgeous eyes embedded into your mind that left you feeling seen and loved.

Dick couldn’t help but smile at your words, not knowing what to expect when he asked you about how pretty he was, now that he had he could feel a burst of warmth within his chest that now encased his entire body. You were too sweet and kind for your own good and Dick just wanted to keep you safe from everything that Gotham represented, whether it was out of his innate selfishness to keep you for himself, to keep a bright light of his own in a twin as dark and depressing as Gotham he wasn’t sure but all he knew was that he wanted to keep you in his life as long as he possibly could.

‘Sounds like you love him very much.’ He says after a brief period of silence.

‘I’m more than anything.’ You replied without hesitation. Your hand reaching into your coat pocket, thumb caressing the cute charm Dick had bought you to add onto your keys, it helped you calm down in certain situations because it meant that no matter how far apart you may seem you still had a piece of Dick close by. ‘Which is why I really want to get home, so I can see him and our darling dog Hayley.’ You add with a smile when the blue staffy came to mind.

Dick remember where Hayley was before he left to watch over you, fast asleep on your side of the bed, which meant that when you came home you’d have to cuddle up to him as it was proven difficult to wake Hayley up when she had made herself comfortable. However if this meant that Dick got the chance to hold you close to his chest, he’d gladly let Hayley sleep on your side of the bed more often, and he did on multiple occasions.

‘Then I best let you go, don’t wanna keep either of them waiting.’ Nightwing said and you couldn’t help but feel ecstatic at the thought of finally getting to go home to your little makeshift family. You didn’t know how much longer you were willing to stand there when you knew Hayley was waiting for you impatiently with a boat load of face licks with your name on it.

‘That’s probably for the best because both of them can tend to get a little whiny when I’m even a second late.’ You laughed to yourself as dick couldn’t help but internally pout at this, he didn’t get whiny when you were late did he? He pushed this thought aside and smiled as he watched you walk away, keeping his eyes on your for a couple seconds longer to make sure you were okay, before realising that he should better beat you home before you find him not there in bed and quickly rushed up to the rooftops and ran like his life depended on it.

He wanted to keep his secret safe for a little while longer before admitting everything to you just yet.

[yandere-romanticaa]

An idea that I really like is Ratio falling for someone who is his complete and total opposite in every way imaginable.

He is the kind of person that operates on pure cold logic and facts. He believes in what he sees in front of him with his own two eyes and yes, while it may be fascinating, perhaps even a little entertaining, to philosophize about various unimaginable concepts they are all indeed just that.

Concepts. Ideas. Things made up from the bottom of the bored human psyche.

Veritas Ratio is a man who is able to grasp many, dare he say, possibly every concept he has ever encountered. He loves a challenge but hardly anything is challenging to him because he is such a genius. He devours books that are over a thousand pages long, the most complicated equations of any science are finished by his hand with such ease that many people might mistake him for a machine rather than a man of flesh and blood.

That's what makes it so fun to see him fall for an airhead. A person who probably doesn't care, or doesn't have the mental capacity to care about such things. This person would rather spend their days dallying away, picking flowers, baking, just doing things that are so mundane and plain (to him). If they do decide to read, it is some trashy romance model, maybe even just straight up written porn if they're just that shameless.

And this is the person who has Ratio grabbing his head in frustration.

He's shaking with anger in his room, golden eyes wobbly as he watches you walk up and down the space ship. You got lost, again. How much of an imbecile are you? Do you truly need someone to guide you through everything? With a huff, the scientist grabs his head made of plaster and makes his exist. He puts the mask on and in no time finds you, all lost in the hallways. You hear his upcoming footsteps before you see him and once you turn around, you are greeted with that bizarre mask you've grown so accustomed to.

You greet the man cheerfully, to which he just huffs. With his arms crossed, Ratio gives you a long and detailed lesson on how you ought to be more careful and aware of your surroundings, that this kind of behavior will not be tolerated. You are not a child and should stop acting like one.

Tears swell in your eyes but none are shed as the two of you turn back, him being a few steps ahead of you. Two pairs of footprints sound incredibly loud in this long and dark corridor. Veritas hears you quietly weeping and he feels the slight inkling of guilt pulling his heartstrings.

... Perhaps he was a smidge too harsh with you.

You are a clueless creature, sure. But maybe, he sometimes reveled in that fact. It was wrong and he would never admit it out loud but his heart whispered it clearly to him - you like this.

Veritas watched you carefully through the reflection of the window, the plaster head concealing the expression on his face. With your lips in a full pout and eyes watery like fresh morning dew, he couldn't help but to be just slightly charmed.

He scoffed to himself as he pressed onwards. He figured he had better standards for himself but that was not the case, clearly.

And just like that, he had escorted you back to your room. He could hear you mumble out a quiet thank you, which he acknowledged with a polite nod with his head.

He's not that cruel. Or rude for that matter!

With the situation now swiftly dealt with, Ratio figured it was high time he went back to his studies. He has already wasted far too much precious time on this, he isn't even sure when he'll finish that -

His train of thought is broken when he feels a pair of arms gently embrace him from behind, the warmth welcoming and dare he say sweet.

Veritas stilled, his body like the statue which some saw him to be. You still could not see his face but his anger could still be felt.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" he spat at you, his tone cold but venomous.

He felt your face being pressed against his broad back, fat tears caking his fine clothing. Just as he was about to pry your hands off him, he heard you finally speak:

"Thank you for helping me. Really..."

Your tone was soft and remorseful. You did not want to disturb him but despite that, you did just that. He was willing to accept your apology and have this situation be over with but what you said next simply knocked all of the air out of his lungs.

"You see, I... I wasn't sure how I could get your attention. I just wanted you to notice me, to talk to me..."

.... Goodness.

He was used to people trying to get his attention but to act like such a pathetic damsel in distress was new. He had to give you credit for your creativity, at the very least.

"I want to be your friend. I also want you to teach me all sorts of things-"

Ratio stopped listening to you mid sentence, his mind running hundreds of laps in thought. Perhaps you weren't the idiot he saw you as. Your little ploy worked, clearly. And if he took you under his wing, who knew what would become of you.

He could turn you into a diamond with his own two hands.

It was embarrassing just how giddy the thought made him.

The shadows of curiosity and some other emotions took over his mind as he analyzed the situation. There really was no harm in taking you all for himself.

Besides, if you were capable of this deceitful plan, who knew what else you could do?

He was eager to find out.

[joelscruff]

ummm hi this is so random i just needed to tell someone about this cause no one i know likes pedro

so i was watching s1 narcos and javi was wearing this fkn white half sleeved shirt and they knew what they were fucking doing and i’m dying he’s so fkn hot what do i do!!, if i was interning for him and he walked in the room wearing that oh my fkn god i would be dead sorry for this rant

soaked (javier peña x f!reader) 18+

so as usual what was meant to be a little drabble became a full-fledged fic. what is wrong with me????? this outfit is truly insane though and i couldn't stop thinking about it getting wet 👀 i hope you enjoy xo (and thank you anon for the inspo and for telling me what episode this lovely shirt was in!) summary: it's hard being an intern for a man who won't even look at you, but maybe there's something else to it that you don't see. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: smut, blowjobs, deepthroating, protected p in v sex, praise kink, dirty talk, size kink (javi has a big dick), biting, probably bad spanish (blame google) word count: 6k (this was supposed to be a drabble!!!!!!! wtf!!!!!!!!) ao3

You're pretty sure you're going to quit your job.

You've been an intern at the DEA for about a month now, in charge of extremely mundane things like pouring coffee and organizing paperwork. No one really talks to you other than Steve Murphy, one of the agents you're assigned to, and even then he's too busy to really give you much attention. It's lonely and boring, and part of you thinks you might have quit already, if it wasn't for...

"Morning, asshole," Javier Peña enters the office with long strides, tossing a stack of papers toward your (very tiny) desk. You can't help but stare at him, swallowing nervously as you assess the plain white shirt he's wearing, loosely tucked into his tight jeans and accentuating his strong, tan arms. How does he always look so good? His hair is messy, brown curls tangled and sticking up in places like he's just rolled out of bed, and he probably has. The faint scent of whisky that follows him tells you all you need to know about how he spent his evening.

You're worried for only half a second that he's talking to you, but you realize his gaze is directed toward Steve, who simply shrugs.

"You didn't have to come," he replies with a laugh, "You coulda said no."

"To your fucking wife? Please." Javier sits down in his chair with force, leaning back to immediately put his long legs up on his desk and reach for a cigarette from his pocket, "She was excited about it, you dick."

Steve just laughs again, turning back to his work, "You did the right thing, man. I don't know what else to say."

You wish you understood the story, knew what they were playfully ribbing each other about, but for the past month you've been on the outside of their relationship. Steve gives you reassuring smiles and some small talk every now and then but it's not enough to feel like you actually belong there, not to mention that Javier has only spoken to you once. Even now, as you rise from your chair to pour some fresh coffee into his mug, he doesn't even look at you.

"You owe me," he says to Steve, lighting up his cig, "Pendejo."

As you pour his coffee you can't help but notice the way the collar of his shirt rides low enough for you to see his collarbones, see the light dusting of hair smattered across his dark skin. There's a few droplets of sweat here and there, and you resist the urge to lean forward and press your tongue to each one.

"I'll have some more too, sweetheart," Steve says behind you, and your thoughts scatter as you pull back from Javier's mug to go re-fill Steve's. You're aware of the way Steve's eyes trail to your breasts, hidden only by a thin layer of blue fabric; it makes you self conscious and also a bit confused. Steve has never looked at you that way before, "That's a nice blouse," he says to you with a smile, eyes going back up to your face, "My wife has one similar to that."

"Thank you," you say quietly, finishing filling up his mug and wanting to go back over to your desk as soon as possible; you don't like the idea of a married man ogling you.

"Isn't this a nice blouse, Javi?" Steve continues, and you freeze.

What is Steve doing? Is he trying to get you insulted? You turn slightly to look at Javier, coffee pot trembling slightly in your hand when you see that he's got an irritated expression painting his face, mouth downturned in a stern frown.

"Thin ice, Steve," Javier replies and takes another drag from his cigarette, his eyes set firmly on Steve's face, not even bothering to even look at the blouse in question.

"What? It's nice," Steve seems to be feigning innocence, yet again another inside joke you're not apart of. Except this time it's at your expense and you're not sure how that makes you feel. Suddenly Steve reaches up and takes a ruffle of your blouse near your arm between his fingers, "Really soft, too."

"Steve," Javier repeats, eyes dark, "Thin. Ice."

You look from Javier to Steve and back to Javier, absolutely bewildered. It's like things are being said but you can't hear them, have no idea what kind of secret language they're speaking. You pull away from Steve a bit, feeling uncomfortable.

"I'm gonna go put this back," you say quietly, referring to the coffee pot.

"Of course, sweetheart, I won't keep you," Steve gives you a wink and you know something is off. From what you've gathered so far from your time here, Steve loves his wife, has a picture of her on his desk right in front of him that you always catch him looking at. You've only been here a month but you swear he's mentioned her every single day, if not to you then to Javier, if not to Javier then to another intern or agent. So why is he suddenly being flirtatious with you?

You leave the room and return the coffee pot, staring at the aged tiles on the wall in front of you and feeling a lump form in your throat. You really do hate it here, you don't know why you've stayed as long as you have.

Yes you do, you idiot.

--

It's raining outside by the time your work day ends and you feel yourself deflate as you walk out the front doors of the DEA; you'd been hoping for the hot weather to continue so you could go for a run and distract yourself from this weird and uncomfortable day, decide whether or not you're going to just quit already. It's like the heavy rainfall is mocking you.

You feel much too depressed to walk home so you go back inside the building and make your way back to the office to call a taxi. Steve passes you in the hallway and slows down, puts his hand up to stop you.

"Hey, I'm sorry for this morning," he says, eyes kind and gentle, "That was inappropriate, I shouldn't have touched your blouse."

You're not sure what to say, giving him a small shrug, "It's, uh, okay. I was just..." you shake your head, "Yeah, never mind, it's okay."

"You're wondering why I did it." he states, frowning, and you almost laugh at his immediate assessment of the situation; deflecting a DEA agent? Not the smartest idea.

"Well, yeah," you shrug, "It was kinda weird. You're usually, um... very respectful so-"

He winces, "I know, I'm sorry. It was just me trying to get on Peña's nerves," he shuffles awkwardly in front of you, shifting the weight from his left leg to his right and back again, "He'd kill me if he knew I was telling you this, but I owe him."

You look at him in total confusion, shaking your head, "I don't understand."

He chuckles, shaking his head, "I know, I'm just trying to figure out how to word it," he bites his lip and then seems to resign himself to something, "Javier... he likes you."

You stare.

"My wife and I, we kind of wrangled him into having dinner with us last night. They were talking, she was askin' him about women, if he'd been on any dates, typical questions," he laughs at the memory, "He said no and she asked if he had his eye on anyone. He said no again, but I know this guy like the back of my hand, I can read him like a book. I knew that second no was a goddamn lie."

Your heart is pounding in your chest but your thoughts are muddled, unable to draw a clear conclusion from what Steve is telling you. You continue to just stand there wordlessly, listening.

"A few drinks later - well, more than a few - I asked him who he had his eye on. You wouldn't believe how easy it was to get it out of him, he just smiled, took a drag of his cig..." Steve acts this out, bringing his cigarette-less fingers to his lips and pretending to take a puff, eyes heavy-lidded and bleary, "And said your name."

You can't believe what you're hearing, there's no way it's true, no way he's telling you about something that actually happened. Your heart continues to pound relentlessly, staring at Steve like he's speaking another language, a million wordless questions flying back and forth in your mind at top speed.

"She's the most beautiful creature I ever saw," he quotes, voice slurred and gravelly, "She's sunshine incarnate."

"But he doesn't even look at me!" you blurt out, eyes wide.

Steve drops his hand and laughs again, shaking his head, "Sweetheart, he looks at you all the time. You're just looking away when he does it."

This revelation hits you hard, makes your breath catch in your throat. Is this actually true? Or is this some sick inside joke they're playing to get you to finally put in your notice, one of their private little games that you're not a part of. On principle it's the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard; the man has spoken to you once, only once, and it was on your first day. He'd introduced himself, shook your hand, and that was that.

"What do you mean you're doing this because you owe him?" you ask, shaking the thoughts away, "Isn't this just humiliating him?"

Steve smiles again, slightly smug, "I see the way you look at him too, you know. I'm not blind," he looks at his watch then and makes a face, "Listen, I gotta go, but if you're heading back to the office, he's still there."

"But, Steve, I-"

"Trust me," he gives you one of his reassuring smiles, "He needs - scratch that - wants someone like you, someone... stable."

You don't think being on the verge of quitting a paid internship would be considered stable, but you understand what he means. You may have only been here a short time but Javier's reputation is widely known around the office, something you've found yourself sympathizing with instead of villainizing him like others do. You know his history with women is pretty bleak relationship wise.

Steve begins to walk away from you, leaving you standing there speechless, "You better hurry before he leaves," he calls. He picks up his pace but you're still able to hear him as he mutters, "and that's my good deed done," then saunters down the hall and disappears around the corner.

--

The office you share with Javier and Steve is the only one still lit on your floor, meaning everyone else has already gone home. You know that Javier likes to stay late sometimes, work on the case alone and look at things from different angles in solitude. You feel nervous as you approach the door, not wanting to bother him. But regardless of whether what Steve said is true, you still need to call a taxi.

You turn the knob and walk inside, trying to be as quiet and slow as possible. Your efforts are pointless though, as Javier looks up from his work and sees you immediately, his eyebrows going up in surprise.

"It's raining," you say softly, awkwardly, "I need to call a cab."

"Right," he nods to you and then returns to his work without an afterthought, writing something down on a piece of paper.

You stand there for a few moments just looking at him, watching his face, trying to find any indication of affection behind those focused eyes, his serious brow. He looks the same as always, lost in thought, scribbling away, handsome as he does it. The white shirt certainly isn't helping; he's unbuttoned it more now, his chest exposed and sunglasses hanging from a button near his pocket. He's so effortlessly gorgeous, it makes you ache.

He must sense you still standing there, not making any move to walk to your desk and pick up the phone. He looks up at you again, brow furrowed, "Do you need something?"

You shake your head quickly, cheeks burning, "N-no, sorry," you shuffle over to your desk and sit down in your chair, doing everything you can to avoid looking over at him again. You think about what Steve said, how Javier is always looking at you but only when you're not aware. You wonder if he's doing it right now.

You reach for the phone, unable to stop your hands from shaking slightly. You're almost sure you feel his gaze on you now, boring into you and watching every move you make, eyes deep and brown and calculating, always calculating. Assessing. What does he make of you? If what Steve said is true, what does he see when he looks at you?

Sunshine incarnate.

You can't help but smile at the words, dialing the number for the taxi slowly as your brain repeats them over and over. Had he really said that about you? And meant it? Your thoughts are so jumbled that you accidentally press the wrong button and have to start over, hanging up the phone quickly before picking it up again.

Just as you go to press the first number, a hand comes down and stops you, brushing against your fingers in a tender and gentle way. You freeze, staring at the hand, knowing it's his, knowing that if he wasn't looking at you before, he certainly is now.

"Why don't I just give you a ride, cariño?" he asks quietly, voice slightly rough around the edges, "I'm heading home now anyway."

You will yourself to look up, eyes capturing his immediately and getting lost in their depths, big and brown and soft and searching. Your lips part but no words come out. You force yourself to give him a nod, repressing the urge to jump up and kiss his mouth, envelop him, hold him close and look even deeper into those soulful eyes.

You stand shakily and walk to the door, feeling his eyes on your back as he follows behind you. The walk down to the main doors of the building is completely silent, save for the clicking of your heels against the linoleum and his heavy masculine breaths at your side. It's still raining once you get outside, and you can't help but make a face.

"Not a fan of the rain?" he asks you a bit loudly over the pelting of water against the concrete, a smile tugging at his lips.

"It's not my favorite," you admit, wincing, "Where are you parked?"

"You stay here where it's dry, I'll pull it up front."

You watch him dart out from under the eaves of the building, rain immediately soaking his white shirt without apology. You watch with wide eyes as his back becomes visible from the downpour, skin a pinkish brown beneath the suddenly translucent material. You catch sight of two dimples near his lower back before he disappears from eyesight.

You swallow, trying to pretend you don't feel yourself begin to throb within the confines of your underwear, a wetness pooling between your legs that has nothing to do with the rain.

Only a few moments later he's pulling up front, waving at you from behind the car window. You dash forward and feel the rain soak your hair, your skin, your blouse. There was nothing about rain in the forecast this morning so you hadn't thought to bring a jacket with you; you're now regretting that decision greatly.

The passenger side door is already unlocked and you slip inside gratefully, slamming it behind you and exhaling loudly. The rain continues to pelt the windows, the roof, a steady and repetitive sound as you look down at yourself to assess the damage. At least you chose a blue blouse and not a white one, although you can faintly see the shape of your nipples poking through the fabric. A bit self conscious, you cross your arms and huddle forward in the seat.

"Should heat up soon," Javier says beside you, quiet like he'd been in the office, "Seatbelt."

You glance over at him for only a second but regret it instantly, immediately noticing the way the rain has completely soaked his white shirt, exposing the taut and firm muscle beneath, his wide pecs, dark nipples, his flat stomach and belly button, the trail of hair that leads down to...

You grip the seatbelt in your hands and turn your attention to clicking it into place, feeling yourself throb even more. God, he's so fucking hot. You can't blame all the women he's slept with for wanting to get in his pants, he's a fucking Adonis. You take a few deep breaths as he pulls away from the building, focusing on the small bursts of heat that are beginning to radiate from the vents in front of you. You rub your hands together, momentarily forgetting that he could probably see your breasts through your blouse if he looked over.

But that's just it...you never know when he's looking at you. And part of you wonders what would be so bad about him seeing you like this.

You drive together in silence for a few moments, an undeniable tension building and building the longer you both sit there without speaking. Every so often you can't help but let your eyes trail back over to his body, eyeing the way his wet shirt clings to his skin, beginning to slowly dry in small patches from the car heater. You can vaguely make out the shape of a scar on his abdomen and you find yourself wanting to reach out and trace your finger along the length of it, ask him how he got it, kiss it better.

"I feel you watching me, querida," he murmurs, eyes on the road.

Your eyes widen and you sit back in your seat stiffly, "S-sorry."

In your peripheral vision you see him smile, thumbing the steering wheel, "You're always watching me, aren't you?"

You don't know what to say, swallowing tightly around the lump you feel building in your throat. Is he about to call you out? Tell you to stop?

"That's okay, I'm always watching you too," he says it quietly like it's a secret, taking a heavy breath as he continues, "But you know that now, don't you? Steve's a little shit."

You can't help but laugh, which makes him grin wider. He looks over at you and you meet his gaze, feeling shy when his eyes drop to your chest and back up again.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you," he murmurs, eyes back on the road, "I'll be real gentle, I promise."

You stare at him, slightly confused. It's only a moment later that it dawns on you: you never told him your address.

"Where are we going?" you ask quietly, voice shaking slightly in anticipation.

He gives you another side glance, smiling kindly at you, "I think you already know, cariño."

--

No more than twenty minutes later he has you laid out on his bed completely bare, his mouth pressed firmly against your wet core as you writhe and moan under his touch. His palms are pressed flush against your stomach, holding you to the mattress, never releasing you even when you start shaking uncontrollably from your orgasm. He just keeps going, sucking on your clit and fingering your throbbing hole, nose buried in the patch of hair on your mound.

"Javi, Javi, Javi," you repeat over and over again, thrashing in his sheets, fisting the duvet. He'd told you as soon as he had you in his bed that he didn't want you calling him Javier anymore, and you'd had absolutely no problem with amending your vocabulary.

He hums, giving your clit one last hard suck and making you almost scream with overstimulation, body heaving up off the mattress as he finally pulls away from your core and looks up at you with those big brown eyes.

"That's it, querida, feels so good, doesn't it?" he breathes, crawling back up and pressing kisses against your skin as you come down from the pleasure, heart pounding in your chest, "Your little pussy needed me so bad, didn't she?"

"Yes," you whimper, voice weak, unable to say anything else as he continues to kiss along your breasts, your neck, your cheeks. His mustache is soft and welcoming against your skin, tickling every inch of it in the best way possible as he worships you.

You can't believe you're even here, lying in his bed, lights dim as the rain continues to pelt the windows and drench the city while Javier drenches you. He's still wearing the white shirt, still damp and tucked into his jeans. You reach forward and pull at his belt, fingers trembling.

"Oh, cariño," he coos, kissing the corner of your mouth hungrily, "Want my cock now, do you? Thought that might have been too much for you."

You shake your head quickly, feeling tears sting in your eyes at the thought of him not giving you what you want, "Please," you whisper, voice breaking, "Please, Javi. I need it so bad."

"You do," he agrees, hands trailing upward to squeeze your breasts, thumbing your hard nipples, "You need to get fucked, knew it from the moment I met you. Knew it had to be me to do it."

"Why didn't you say anything?" you ask, voice breathless as he begins to undo his belt, "Why didn't you talk to me?"

"Because you're so pretty, hermosa, so pure," he tosses his belt to the ground and reaches for the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his head. Your eyes fall to his bare chest, his stomach, so much clearer now than they'd been through the wet fabric. He's absolutely perfect, and you feel yourself salivate as you reach up to palm the soft skin of his belly, feeling the hair under your fingertips, tracing the scar you'd seen earlier. He grabs your hand gently, squeezes it, "I knew if I talked to you, you'd end up right here. In my bed."

"And that would be a bad thing?" you whisper, eyes searching his, "This is bad?"

He shakes his head quickly, unbuttoning his jeans, "No, querida, this isn't bad. This is what you need, I know that now," he unzips himself and your jaw goes slack when you see that he isn't wearing any underwear, his cock completely bare and on display beneath the denim. He pulls himself out, showing you how long and thick he is, cut and curved, leaking from the tip. Some of it drips onto your tummy and you both watch it dribble down your skin, dipping into your belly button, "You need it," he whispers, "Knew it when you started looking at me like that."

"Like what?" you breathe, still staring at his large cock, wondering how it'll possibly fit inside you without splitting you in half.

"Like the way you're looking at my cock right now," he says softly, shuffling forward a bit on the bed, "Now, sit up, okay? Give it a kiss."

You don't need telling twice, scrambling amongst the sheets and crouching forward to envelop the head of his cock inside your mouth, warm and sticky on your tongue. You close your eyes, feeling them almost roll back in your head as you suck gently and swallow down his precome, tickling the back of your throat.

"Gonna see how much you can take, okay?" he says quietly above you, and you feel his hands in your hair, stroking your scalp reassuringly, "You can stop if it's too much."

You slowly move forward to take a few more inches, eyes still closed, only opening again when you feel his hands grip your hair tighter. You look up then, eyes lidded and heavy, and he's looking down at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"Such a pretty mouth," he murmurs, thumbing the base of your neck, "Just made to have my cock in there, huh?"

You nod slowly, breathing through your nose and pushing yourself further, wanting to take as much of him as you possibly can. You get about three quarters down and feel the tip prod the back of your throat. You still, inhaling deeply and feeling tears well in your eyes, silently begging yourself not to gag.

"Just a little more, querida," he whispers, stroking your hair, "You can do it, I know you can."

With his soothing encouragement you slowly take the rest of him, not stopping until your nose is buried in his pubic hair. You inhale again and your senses are overwhelmed by his masculine, sweaty, musky scent. It's heaven. You open your eyes and look up at him, tears welling over and spilling down your cheeks.

"Oh, baby," he says, biting back a moan, "That's so good, knew you could do it," he feels you trembling on his cock, throat closing around the head, and he carefully slides you off.

You start coughing immediately, drool running down your chin in long ropes. You'd feel embarrassed but he's smiling at you, leaning down to press kisses to your forehead.

"You did so good," he praises, wiping your chin with his thumb and kissing your lips tenderly, tasting himself on your tongue, "Took all of it so well, querida."

"I can do it again," you say quickly through another cough, voice rough, "Just gimme a second."

He smiles wider and shakes his head, "I know you can, but you don't need to, not tonight. Just wanted to see if you could take the whole thing in that pretty mouth," he thumbs your lips and you immediately capture it between them, sucking his thumb feverishly. He groans slightly, watching it disappear, "and now that I know you can... we need to see how well it fits inside that perfect little pussy, hm? Think it'll fit?"

You nod immediately, releasing his thumb with a pop, "I'll make it fit."

He groans again, getting off the bed and pulling his jeans down his legs, "That's what I like to hear, baby." He pulls open his bedside table and grabs a condom, tossing it over to you, "Now put that on my dick, cariño, gotta be safe."

You shuffle to the edge of the bed, ripping the condom open with your teeth and sliding it down his length. You feel his eyes on you now; you'd never been able to feel it before, had no idea he'd even been looking at you, and now it's like his gaze is burning your skin. You lean forward and press one more kiss to the head of his cock, smirking when it twitches.

"Come here, hermosa," he mutters, taking your hand and carefully pulling you off the bed. You both stand there naked in front of each other as he leans down to kiss you tenderly, hand trailing up to press flush against your back. He's so beyond everything you could have ever hoped for; you still can't believe this is actually happening, "Stay there for a second," he whispers.

You watch as he gets on the bed and sits at the top, back leaning against the headboard. His cock stands stiff and inviting beneath him as he splays his legs out and opens his arms.

"Sit on my cock, querida," he breathes, and without any hesitation you climb into his lap, legs shaking as you grip his shoulders and hover above him, "Nice and slow," he whispers, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, "That's it."

The tip of his cock breaches your entrance and you keen at the sensation, still shaking slightly as you slowly ease yourself down on him. You're so wet, his length slipping inside easily at first, but once you get about halfway down your hips stutter and you whimper.

"You got it, baby," he breathes, thumbs splayed across your belly, "Not much more," he pushes inside a bit further and you cry out in ecstasy, burying your face in his shoulder. His hands move to your back, holding you tightly against him as he continues to fill you, not stopping until he bottoms out, "There," he murmurs, rubbing circles into the skin of your back, "That's all of it, cariño. Did so good, taking it so well for me."

You sit like that for a few moments, him whispering praises in your ear and rubbing your skin soothingly. He's so thick inside you, you've never felt so full. After a few more moments he carefully grips your hips and slowly begins to move you on his cock, up and down, watching your expression and reveling in the whines emitting from your throat.

"That's it," he says, brow furrowed as he keeps his eyes on your face, "That's what a real cock feels like, querida, and it's the only one you're gonna get from now on." Your face scrunches up in pleasure and you find yourself hiding in his shoulder again, wrapping your arms around him and starting to move your hips to match his pace.

"Javi," you whimper, feeling the head of his cock pushing against the deepest part of you every time you brace down, "So big inside me, Javi."

"I know, cariño," he murmurs, soothing you again with a gentle rub to your back, "Filling you up so good, huh?"

You hum and let yourself go, nose pressed into the dip of his collarbone as you still on his cock and let him go back to working you up and down, murmuring in your ear about how good you feel, what a perfect girl you are, how you'll never fuck anyone else but him for the rest of your life. And you want to believe it's true.

"Work won't be the same anymore," you say against his skin, voice muffled.

"Christ, baby, you're thinking about work?" he taps on your neck and you pull back to look at him, shivering as he continues to fuck you relentlessly as he speaks to you, "Don't think about work right now, querida, not when I've got my cock buried inside you."

"I want you to start fucking me at work," you say suddenly, brow furrowing in pleasure as he hits the deepest part of you again, "In secret, please."

He stills for a second, surprise appearing on his face before he smiles, starts fucking you again with even more fervor, grunting with very thrust.

"Of course I will, baby," he says, pressing his forehead against yours, gripping your hips tighter and fucking you fast and hard, so much so that you feel yourself writhe off the bed again, fingers clasping around nothing as you moan loudly, "I told you, ever since I met you I knew you needed this, needed my cock," he kisses you then, wet and hot, and you feel the tension in your belly start to build, "Gonna give it to you every chance I get from now on, I promise."

You whimper at his words, fucking yourself down on him as hard as you can and letting out cries of pure bliss as he begins to hit your favorite spot over and over, so impossibly deep inside you that you think maybe he will split you open. He rises off the bed with you a bit, holding you tight to him as he wildly bucks into you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Gonna come, hermosa," he whispers in your ear, breath hot and sticky against your skin, "Give me one more, get that pussy all wet for me," you let out an inhuman sound and feel yourself involuntarily bite into his shoulder, making him groan.

"I'm sorry," you moan, pulling back and seeing the crescent shaped mark in his flesh.

"For what?" he groans, and you feel his thumb start to prod your clit, rubbing it furiously, "Do it again, baby, mark me up, make me yours," you feel your orgasm overtake you at the words, fingernails digging into his back as you writhe and cry in his arms. Without hesitation you bite down on him again, not hard enough to break the skin but enough that there will most certainly be a mark there tomorrow.

He groans at the sensation, pulling you impossibly closer and stilling inside you as he pumps the condom full of his spend, twitching inside you at every pulse. He doesn't pull out right away, just lays still within you while you pant against his shoulder, eyeing the purple mark beginning to bloom on his skin.

"I bit you," you say, eyes wide.

He shifts slightly beneath you, cock still filling you up as he chuckles, "Yes, you did."

"I'm sor-"

He puts a hand up, shaking his head, "Don't apologize, cariño, I like it."

You nod slowly and carefully pull yourself off his cock, already missing the full sensation of having him deep inside you. You lay back on the bed beside him, eyes closed as he disposes of the condom and then settles himself tightly against your side, spooning you and pressing gentle kisses to the back of your neck.

"Did you mean what you said?" you ask quietly, eyes still closed as you feel yourself begin to drift off in his embrace, "Will you really fuck me at work?"

He laughs, gorgeous and perfect in your ear, "Yes, mi sol, I meant it."

--

Javi takes you home early the next morning so you can change your clothes, not wanting Steve to know about what happened last night, as much as it would probably tickle him to know he had a hand in it. He waits for you outside, listening to the radio in his car and squinting against the bright sun, fingers tapping against the base of the window absentmindedly. After a few moments you come back out, wearing a yellow blouse this time in honor of your new nickname. He smiles radiantly at you and you know you made a good choice.

You both manage to keep Steve completely in the dark for the first part of the day; Javi goes back to ignoring you the way he usually does, which you have to admit makes you feel a little bad. But it's all water under the bridge when he follows you to the women's bathroom around noon and locks you inside one of the stalls with him. A few seconds later his cock is hitting the back of your throat as he proves to you that he wasn't lying.

--

"What's that?" Steve says in the late afternoon, only about an hour until you can go home. You look up from your desk but he isn't talking to you, his gaze fixed on Javi.

"What?" Javi replies, brow furrowing as he looks down at himself, "Got a bug on me or something?"

"No, you have a bite mark on your shoulder," Steve says matter-of-factly, and you feel your cheeks go hot, eyes widening as you stare at Javier and watch him figure out what to say.

He just shrugs coolly, "Yeah, slept with this wild bonita last night, she wanted to mark me," he looks back down at his work, "Your wife ever do shit like that, Murphy?"

Steve sighs deeply, leaning back in his chair, "No, she doesn't."

"Thought so," Javi smirks, still not looking up from his paperwork, and you watch as Steve twists his mouth into a scowl, shaking his head.

A few seconds later Steve's looking over at you, giving you a small look of what you can only describe as sympathy, "Sorry," he mouths, shrugging dejectedly, "My bad."

You give him a smile in return, shaking your head, unable to help the rush you feel at not getting caught.

"It's okay," you mouth back, "I'll get over it."

You know Javi is watching you this time.

thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip (entirely optional of course but much appreciated).

[blitzyn]

prospect

toji fushiguro x m!reader

request: none

a/n -> sighs and explodes i need this man injected in my blood right NOW. nobody will be able to convince me that this man doesn’t have a breeding kink. sometimes i forget im writing for real people on a real platform and it jump scares me when people comment on my work. but in a good way ofc i love seeing people’s thoughts on my stuff. ANYWAYS. REQS.

wc -> 4.7k words of filth LMAO

cw -> anal fingering, anal sex, spit as lube, throat fucking, using “pussy” and “cunt” as a synonym, mild impact play, breeding kink, mirror sex, finger hooking, bondage, begging, brief gun play, when i say “little” i mean that in a condescending sorta way and not bc the reader is described to be petite and tiny, not beta read obv

"You're a tricky one, I'll give you that," is the first thing the man before you said. It'd been quite a while since the first time the two of you met in a dingy bar hidden in the sketchier parts of town. He hadn't been trying to kill you then - he was but a fellow patron eager to ruin his liver. Originally, he had a strange gut feeling about you. Like a pretty thing like you wasn't all it seemed, but he shrugged it off after a well-placed look from you offering to buy a couple more rounds.

So when he's given another job, the first thing he does is laugh. He didn't really mean it at first, but really, the irony was hilarious. The guy he nearly got to fuck was his current target: [Name] [L.Name], a rising Jujutsu Sorcerer. He obviously wasn't as strong as the esteemed Gojo Satoru or Geto Suguru, but he was advancing a little faster than many would've liked.

"Thanks. I tried," you replied, seeming much too relaxed for a man about to be assassinated. You were currently stuck on the floor with your arms tied behind your back and your legs bound together by plain, old, ordinary rope. You were a little embarrassed, truthfully, to have been caught by such a mundane trap like this.

You struggled against your restraints a bit, sighing in defeat when you only served to remind yourself just how stuck you were. "These are pretty secure," you started, giving the man before you a laidback smirk. "You experienced?"

Toji gave you a quizzical look for a moment before breaking out in an amused grin, resting his handgun against his shoulder. He definitely wasn't expecting his target to start flirting with him instead of pleading for his life like he was used to. But he'll entertain you for a while. "You could say that."

You huffed through your nose, your eyes lazily flitting around the room. You were making your way back inside the abandoned building you chose to hide in when you suddenly found yourself tied up. It took you a moment to realize you couldn't move when he appeared in front of you, but even less to recognize him as the man you almost got to sleep with. "I would've loved to have you tie me up back then, but this wasn't really what I was thinking about."

"Your phone's a real cockblock, huh?" He chuckled lightly, in an almost mocking manner from what you managed to detect in his voice. "Can't even begin to imagine how long you've had to go without gettin' laid."

You rolled your eyes like he wasn't only there to kill you and get his money. "Don't get me started. There's always something new I have to kill every fuckin' second. My boss thinks it's great training to go out whenever I can."

Right. Technically, you weren't a fully-fledged Sorcerer. You had more of a vigilante-esque vibe to you. You hadn't attended either Jujutsu High School in Tokyo or Kyoto as well, only taught by your family and experiences. Not that that really mattered anyway. You fought, you got strong, and now someone put a hit on you.

You sighed, shifting your body to a more comfortable position before tilting your head back against the wall. “This is the part where I beg for my life, right?” You questioned rhetorically, with an almost bored expression on your face before your eyes lit up with an idea. “I’m not too good at that, but I am good at begging for something else.”

Toji raised an eyebrow in intrigue, unable to fight off the grin at the obvious implication. He didn’t stop you from shamelessly checking him out, but he cut your ogle session short regardless.

“Yeah? Care to elaborate?” He made his way closer, crouching in front of you to get a better view of your face. He knew what you were asking for. He just wanted to know if you’d follow through with it.

Maybe it was the adrenaline making you bold, knowing that he could easily kill you with the pull of a trigger—or maybe it was just because he was really fucking hot. With a quick, obvious glance to his crotch (you could see the imprint of his dick through his sweatpants), you spoke clearly. “I want you to fuck me.”

He liked how forward you were, how unafraid you were to say what you wanted. He swiped his tongue over his lips and nearly laughed at how your eyes darted downwards to watch it. “You call that beggin’?” He taunted, raising his arm to press the tip of his gun against your chin to tilt your head up. “Do it right.”

A shudder ran through your body at his demand, leaving a trail of heat that settled right into your groin. You felt hyper aware of everything—of the cool metal on your skin, of the faint gunpowder scent emanating from the barrel, of your heartbeat thrumming so hard you briefly wondered if he could hear it.

“Oh, please, Mr. Fushiguro,” you whined, staring up at him through your lashes pleadingly. You tried to squeeze your thighs together as you squirmed, attempting to provide your hardening dick friction. “Please fuck me. I’ve been thinking about this whole time. I need it so much.”

“Well, aren’t you a confident little thing,” he remarked with a thoughtful hum, carefully inspecting your reactions. “But what makes you think I won’t just kill you and get my money?”

“Because you haven’t yet,” you replied with a smug undertone in your voice, like you figured him all out. Although, when he dragged his gun up towards your lips, a brief wave of fear washed down your body, settling deep in your chest.

“Really? That’s all you’re going off of?” He tilted his head, watching you through the dark curtain of hair that fell over his piercing eyes. “That’s cute.” He held his finger over the trigger, teasingly flexing it before relaxing just as fast. He found it funny how your confident facade slipped away the moment you remembered that you weren’t talking to a casual friend—that the Sorcerer Killer himself was staring you down the barrel of his gun. But, apparently, that’s what got you all hot and bothered.

“I didn’t think you’d be this desperate.” His scarred lips curled upwards in a predatory grin as he nudged the tip of his gun against your mouth, prying it open. You fought the urge to squirm when he pushed it further, jaw straining, but you tried your best to comply. “You seemed all mysterious ‘n’ unassuming back at the bar. What happened to that? Got me feelin’ like I got the wrong person with the way you’re actin’.”

You tried to shake your head while a garbled noise left your throat, but he kept you firmly in place as he pushed it as far as he could go. Even as you squinted, it was hard not to practically eyefuck him where you sat. Your watery irises trailed over the length of his arm, tracing the bulging veins that patterned over his forearm, dipping back underneath his skin before reappearing in his thick bicep. His shirt did little to hide his chest, squeezing in just the right places to render any woman jealous.

You couldn’t stop your gaze from wandering down, down towards his legs, zeroing in on the dick print he so obviously flaunted like a trophy. Your mouth watered, suddenly finding it hard to swallow. You slid your tongue over the rough metal, imagining that it was his cock stretching your eager throat wide open; imagining the salty taste of his precum, of the scent of his musk, of—

“My eyes’re up here, pretty boy,” he interrupted, pressing the gun up against your palate to snap you out of your stupor and avert your gaze. “If you’re gonna deny bein’ a slut, at least act like it.”

He pulled it out of your drooling mouth, wiping the string of saliva off on your cheek before setting it on the floor with a dull thud. Your face was messy, chest heaving up and down as you panted, expectantly waiting for him to continue like a lost puppy.

“You’re so damn easy,” he commented teasingly, reaching down to palm his cock through his pants. It throbbed under his touch, leaking precum and straining against the fabric. “If I’da known all it took for you to get all nice ‘n’ compliant f’me was a dick down your throat, I’d have my money by now.” There was a hint of honesty to his voice that you couldn’t even find in yourself to protest.

“Please…” you breathlessly whined, trying to writhe out of your binds, but it was tied too tightly around your body to free yourself. “I want it. Stop messing with me.”

“I know.” He reached down to shift you onto your knees, steadying you with a firm hand on the back of your neck. You watched him slide his free hand under his pants to pull his thick cock out, eyes fixated on the leaking tip. He wrapped it around the shaft and leisurely jerked himself off, the wet sounds of his precum sliding along the shaft mixing in with your labored breaths and his quiet groans.

Finally, after what felt like decades, he shuffled forward just enough to press himself against your lips, finding little need to nudge his way inside when you so eagerly parted them for him. You let out a pleased noise at the taste of his precum, beginning to squint and fight the urge to gag when he refused to stop until your nose was buried in his pubes. He held you there for a moment, enjoying the sight of your throat bulging to accommodate his cock.

“You’re takin’ me in so easily,” he purred, sighing in satisfaction at the feeling of your tongue tracing over a prominent vein, making him twitch in your mouth. “Is this what you do? Use your body to live a little longer? 'Cause I gotta say, whatever you're doin' is really payin' off."

You visibly preened at his praise, feeling your dick strain against the fabric of your pants. He let you move at your own pace, watching you hollow your cheeks and slide and bob your head up and down. He was thick and long and made your jaw ache in the best way, utterly infatuated with his scent, with his taste, with the way he let you go at your own pace—but you knew better. You knew that he could easily take that control away from you and fuck your face.

You kind of wished he did, honestly.

With a bit of effort, you pulled away from his cock, breathing heavily. Your voice was shaky but it was firm, determined to get what you wanted. “Fuck my throat,” you demanded, staring up at him through your lashes. He gave you an intrigued smile, clearly pleased with your eagerness to be used like a toy.

“You sure? ‘Cause I’m not stoppin’ til I cum,” he warned. He hardly gave you enough time to reply before he held the base of his cock, gently tapping the tip against your slick lips to get you to open up wide again, obviously unconcerned with your response. “But if you really insist, then who am I to say no to a pretty thing like you?”

He adjusted his stance, towering over you with both his hands atop your head. He allowed you to take a deep breath before pulling you to him just as he shoved his cock back down your throat. You were still unused to him, nearly choking at the sudden movement, feeling tears pool along your lashes. You could’ve sworn his musk was an actual aphrodisiac. It was all you could smell, filling up your nostrils to render your mind a pathetically fuzzy mess.

“Thaaaat’s it,” he drawled out, staring you down with enough heat in his eyes to practically glue you to the floor. You weren’t even sure if you’d get up and leave if he gave you the chance to. Probably not, frankly. Not with the way his strong hands so easily kept you in place, nor with how he strained your jaw—infatuated with every inch and vein and his salty precum. “Take it all, baby.”

He chuckled to himself, not bothering to hide the condescension in his voice. “But I didn’t need to tell you that, huh? Is this muscle memory takin’ over?” Despite his words, his brows were furrowed, focused on thrusting his hips, stoking the rising fire in his abdomen. His rhythmic groans were music to your ears, mixing in with your wet gags and the faint sound of his balls slapping your chin.

“Fuck,” he panted, taking one hand off to wipe your hair off of your forehead and get a look at your watery, unfocused eyes. It sent a heat down his spine that made his cock jolt at the sight of your blissed out face. “You’re so damn tight… gonna make me cum.”

“Is that what you want?” He grunted, digging his fingertips into your skin. “Y’think it’s what you deserve?” For a moment, you were worried he was going to stop. But he didn’t really, instead he kept you still, holding you at a distance to make sure you didn’t accidentally pass out. “I wanna hear you beg for it.”

You blinked your tears away and looked up at him, squinting, confused when he hadn’t let you go yet. It took you a second to piece together what he wanted of you, and felt the burn of embarrassment trickle down your spine and settle into your chest when you did. He wanted you to beg with his cock in your mouth. You were quiet, unsure how to respond without choking and coughing into next week.

“C’mon,” he persisted, his scarred lips lifting in a grin. “I know a little slut like you can do it.”

With a deep breath, you attempted to get your words out through muffled sounds that very vaguely sounded like sentences. It was humiliating—letting him use you to entertain himself like this, but it was an exhilarating feeling that made your cock twitch and throb, aching to be touched.

“Sorry, what was that?” He questioned mockingly, expression laced with faux concern. “Do you mind repeating that?”

You paused, staring up at him pleadingly, but when that didn’t seem to work, you tried again. Drool seeped out the corners of your lips, trailing down your chin. It was hard to breathe and form coherent thoughts. Your cock throbbed and ached to be touched, finding your pants to be uncomfortably suffocating.

“Was that so hard?” He questioned rhetorically as he tugged your face close again, savoring the feeling of your throat squeezing around his dick before beginning to fuck it. He groaned when he felt you run your tongue over the veins, the vibrations of your voice sending heat through his body that he eagerly chased.

He swore under his breath, panting, focused on the tightening coil in his abdomen. “Shit—I’m about to—fuck—cum.”

You moaned when you felt him still, pressing your face into his pelvis to make sure every drop of his cum went down your throat. It was difficult to swallow, letting your eyes flutter shut until he was finished. Your vision was a bit blurry when he finally decided to pull away, leaving you gasping and panting.

“I want—I need you to fuck me,” you slurred, desire flashing brightly in your eyes. Your voice was raw and hoarse and raspy, but there was no hiding your desperation. “Please. I need it so bad it fucking hurts. Please, Fushiguro.”

“I just got done cumming down your throat and you’re already askin’ for more?” He chuckled condescendingly, reaching out to swipe the pad of his thumb along your chin to gather the mix of saliva cum. He brought it to your lips, watching you wrap them around his finger and suck the fluids off his skin. “You needy whore. You’re lucky I’m not in any rush right now.”

With a swift hand, he untied the rope holding your legs together to lead you to a different spot, confident that you wouldn’t make a break for it. Not that you could nor wanted to, anyways.

The mirror before you was dusty and cracked, but it still served its purpose well. He kicked your legs apart and brought you back down to your knees, lowering himself behind you with a firm grip on the back of your neck. You nearly came on the spot when he squeezed your aching cock, hips jerking needily, but he let go in the blink of an eye to unzip your pants and bring them down far enough to expose your ass. He brought two fingers to your lips and dipped them inside your mouth with his other hand, coating them with your saliva rather haphazardly.

He swiftly brought them back down, running them over your balls and perineum teasingly, grinning at your sharp intake of breath. He slid the pads of them over your hole, just barely pushing them through to feel the resistance give way before pulling them back out.

“I swear to god, I’ll—“ you tried to threaten, only to be cut off by a whorish moan that Toji managed to tear from your lips when he shoved his fingers inside you. They pressed against your prostate, firm and unrelenting, rubbing it just the slightest bit to keep you reeling. The sudden stretch fucking burned as you clamped down on him like a vice, wincing and groaning.

“You’ll what?” He urged, eyes fixated on your face, watching every single muscle twitch, noticing the way your cock spurt a fresh stream of precum down the throbbing shaft. “C’mon, don’t get all shy on me now. What were you saying?”

He thrust his fingers in and out slowly, emphasizing the wet squelching sounds of your asshole. You could feel his breaths brushing against your heated skin, sending shivers up and down your spine that ended in your fingertips. Your knees ached and your arms were growing numb from being tied back for so long but you figured you could ignore it for a little while longer if it meant you’d get what you wanted. His dick, namely.

“I’ll—agh, fuck—I’ll…” you trailed off, hardly able to form a coherent sentence with the way he massaged your prostate so perfectly. “Just… just shut up,” you muttered finally, breathless and unfocused as you stared at the spot you connected from the reflection in the old mirror. A subtle feeling of embarrassment settled in your heaving chest when you heard the raspy sound of his chuckle.

“Is that it?” He taunted, locking eyes with you. His free hand slid upwards, teasing your nipples through your shirt to watch you squirm. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight. I’m startin’ to question whether or not you’re really some hotshot Sorcerer.”

It was hard to refute him when you looked the way you did—all messy and disheveled and desperate, hard for the man supposed to kill you. You were completely unlike yourself hardly half an hour ago, but you barely gave a shit. How could you when the hottest man you’ve ever seen was behind you, fingerfucking your eager hole? Chances like these don’t come often to you, that’s for sure.

You shivered and moaned, leaning back against his chest. Your hips practically moved on their own accord, thighs flexing to keep yourself upright as you tried to fuck yourself on his thick digits. Toji could see the way your eyes unfocused and glossed over with understimulated tears, frustrated and horribly pent-up.

He gave your prostate a quick jab, firm enough to intensify the heated coil in your belly, but too fast to savor. He wasn’t planning on giving in to you so easily as he avoided your sensitive spot, instead moving his fingers in a scissoring motion to stretch you out.

“God—stop doing that,” you pleaded. You felt like an open book, unable to stop yourself from furrowing your eyebrows in annoyance or conceal the painstakingly obvious glint of hunger in your pupil-blown irises.

“Quit whinin’ and maybe I’ll consider it,” he murmured gruffly, enraptured by the way you writhed and squirmed and looked just downright pathetic. You both knew he wouldn’t, not when all the others he’s fucked couldn’t hold a candle to your pliant little body. You knew why he was there in the first place, but still, you remained there on your knees even when he untied them.

You nearly let out a sob when he curled his fingers again, offering you the barest of touches to your prostate that sent liquid fire coursing through your veins.

“Fuck, please,” you begged, yet again. You didn’t know much of this you could take or how long it’d be until he caved. God, was it so much to ask for a man to fuck you stupid?!

“I want your cock inside me so bad, fucking me fast ‘n’ hard ‘n’ deep,” you slurred, hardly able to maintain even the barest shred of dignity. You looked into his deep, green eyes through the mirror’s reflection, hoping he’d relent.

“Yeah? Y’want me in this slutty pussy?” He purred, sliding his slick fingers out of your twitching hole to give it a sharp slap. You jolted just as a spurt of precum slid down your hard cock, leaking onto your clothed, heaving abdomen. He chuckled breathlessly as he leisurely rubbed your puffy rim with the pad of a finger. “You should’ve just said so.”

He wiped his fingers off on the back of your shirt, offering you an oblivious shrug when you glared at him through the mirror. Your knees ached when he had you lean forward a little, placing your more of your weight on the poor joints as he reached down to quickly jerk himself off before tapping the tip of his dick on your asshole one, two, three quick times.

It felt like he was splitting you apart when he finally decided to push through after spitting on your hole, groaning at the way you squeezed around him tighter than a damn virgin. It hurt like a bitch. Of course it did—you made him rush and he was using less than ideal lube, but, God, you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t feel so fucking good.

You watched him lean back a little and hold you by the ropes binding your arms together, rolling his hips experimentally, only to grind his cockhead into your prostate so deliciously you saw stars. A searing heat enveloped your body, blinding you with white that took you far too long to come down from. Opening your eyes (you didn’t even realize you closed them), you instantly spotted your twitching cock drooling cum onto the floor. Fuck. He didn’t even start and you came.

“That was so damn fast.” He couldn’t be bothered to stop the hint of a laugh from leaving his throat. With his free hand, he reached down and gave your throbbing dick a squeeze, stroking it with a tight grip to milk out the rest of your cum.

You shuddered and trembled, biting your lip to stifle your moans. He let go to stuff two of his slick fingers in your mouth, careless with how deep he forced them in. Not that you really minded as you swirled your tongue around his skin, readily cleaning it off. You locked eyes, keeping your expression firm in a weak attempt to regain even a sliver of composure when he suddenly moved, giving you a quick, harsh thrust that nearly knocked the air out of your lungs.

He shifted his fingers, curling them as they pulled on your cheek, tugging at the flesh until he forces your mouth wide open. You couldn’t stop your tongue from lolling out, jaw slack as you drooled and whined and cried every time he rammed his thick cock into your eager fuckhole. He was relentless—pounding into you fast and hard and deep, just like you begged for so prettily.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, digging his fingertips into the flesh of your hip hard enough to leave bruises, arms flexing to yank you back as soon as he pulled out. “Your pussy’s so damn tight,” he panted, brows furrowed in focus, relishing in the sound of his hips slapping your ass and your whorish moans. “M’gonna make sure your messy little cunt remembers my cock by the time I’m finished with you.”

“Uh-huh, mhm,” you nodded, hands itching to grab onto his biceps, his back, something to ground yourself while he churned your insides to mush. It was nigh impossible to think or breathe or speak, but it felt so fucking good.

“Awh, look at yourself,” he cooed, his voice slightly jumpy as he let go of your mouth to roughly pat your cheek, forcing you out of your stupor to make you stare at your reflection. “Are you out of it already? Should I stop?” He questioned, his raspy voice laced with faux concern.

“No! N-No,” you stammered, finding it difficult to comprehend what he was saying until moments later, alerted by the word “stop”. “Don’t stop! Ohh, oh god, please don’t stop!”

You’re so, so sensitive and so full, and you can feel him losing his rhythm. His cock is heavy in your stomach and you swear through your addled brain it’s weighing you down as a trail of precum connects your heated bodies together, frothing between your thighs and his balls.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he grunted, gritting his teeth. He could feel the burning coil in his abdomen intensify with each passing second, and suddenly he’s speeding up, pistoning into you with loud and sloppy thrusts. His green eyes are locked on your swollen and puffy hole sucking him in with a vice grip, watching his cock slide in and out, in and out, over and over again until you’re cumming hard, shaking and convulsing.

“That’s it,” he growls, the sound low and deep. It went straight into your stomach, sparks lighting up under your skin as your hips jerk, unsure whether you want to endure the building overstimulation or move away. “M’gonna cum so deep inside your pretty little pussy I’ll knock you up,” he murmured in your ear, dragging a canine down your neck to clamp his teeth down on the flesh. “Y’want that? To be my breeding bitch?”

You sobbed, unable to answer, but he didn’t need one. Not when your body spoke for you.

He fucked the air out of your lungs one, two, three more times, feeling his balls tighten until he finally came, spilling his cum so deep inside you, you were sure it’d stay there for weeks. You moaned, savoring the warmth that spread through your body with each spurt of his cum that coated your velvety insides, trying to catch your breath before you had to move.

Toji sighed in satisfaction, pulling out after a few moments. He watched your fucked-out hole clench around nothing as it leaked with his seed, spreading one of your asscheeks to get a better view before giving it a final pat.

You didn’t realize he cut the ropes holding your arms behind your back until you nearly fell face-first onto the floor, catching yourself with your numb hands.

“Ow… fuck,” you cursed at the sharp stinging sensation that ran up your arms, shaking them uselessly in an attempt to restore the blood flow faster.

“You were better than I thought you’d be,” he hummed, getting up to fix his clothes. He grabbed his handgun from off the ground, holding it against his shoulder as he stared you down. “But you have three days. Make ‘em count.”

You weren’t oblivious to know that he was giving you a three-day recovery period before he began hunting you again. Even then, you couldn’t stop the shiver of excitement from running through your spine at the prospect of seeing him again.

You grinned, breathless and shaky but confident nonetheless. It was unlikely he’d fuck you once he found you, but a man could dream. "I will."

cross-posted on ao3

[kit-williams]

Yandere Magnus, Fulgrim, Corvux, Khan and Mortarion... please?

So uh I'm probably going to look at some of my earlier Yandere Primarchs (and Abbadon and the Emps) and redo them just so that everyone gets a small blurb

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

@nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog

Yandere Magnus: I've mentioned somewhere that Yandere Magnus is a less intense version of a Yandere Emperor. He will still use the same tricks as his father no doubt. Shapeshifting into something alluring and pleasing to you... using his psychic gifts to find out everything about you. How you came into his notice... it could have been the most mundane thing you accidentally brushing up against him when delving into the immaterium if you are a psyker... if you are not perhaps it was just a thought you held onto tightly that just danced on by his gaze and he followed it back to it's source.

Regardless of who you are or how you caught his attention... he's looking now he's now interested! You might not have been in the dating market because things weren't going your way and the stress of trying to eek out a living was stressful enough. But soon enough things go your way and you feel like you might try to date again... and then suddenly this handsome man seems to waltz into your life... you're certain you saw him in a dream.

It practically makes your head swim with how much he knows and understands you! Fights seem to fizzle out as you've hardly met someone willing to talk through arguments like him... just everything feels so dizzingly perfect so perfect you can't help but feel blindsided when the ruse is up but by that point it's too late... but it was already far too late as you had sealed your fate with that first smile that reached your eyes as he gazed into what he considered a beautiful mind.

Yandere Fulgrim: Depend son when he is acting like a yandere... under the influence of the Leer blade is the most likely time he would indulge in those feelings he's been bottling up; that or he's always been one and each of his wives were each a darling. Fulgrim is going to try to slip a collar around your neck and hold that leash tightly so you can't leave him all while he just sweet talks you into submitting to him. All his wives had similar features to your own... they all held passion in their hobbies something you've only been able to recently indulge... You're going to LEAVE him just like they LEFT him! It wasn't fair! Why did you all have such horrifyingly short lives!

How DARE YOU! How dare they all wrap his hearts up with kisses and love and adoration holding it in their hands and EACH AND EVERYTIME THEY DIED IT DROPPED. His heart shattering every time his wives died. He swore off marrying again! But you oh his beautiful rose... he was willing to make an exception for you. Perhaps he didn't need to tie the knot in that way again he was a Primarch he could easily seduce you and just have you as his paramour... but that felt so beneath him... and unfair to you. People talk oh how they would TALK about how you would be nothing more then his fucktoy if all he did was use you for sex.

Fulgrim clenched his jaw as it was unfair you had such short blazingly BRIGHT lives. He considered killing you and preserving you so that you would never leave him. But then there would be no more smiles from you... no more soft laughs... no longer giving him the look as he gently explained things to you... you were odd...Fulgrim liked odd. Normal was overrated anyway... He could feel himself getting worked up more and more into a manic state.

Till your voice pierced the haze and he smiled at you as his mind was rolling... watching your lips move with each syllable you clearly spoke... his eyes flicked to the plain robes... those no longer would do... he'd dress you up in the prettiest of dresses and jewels like a perfect doll. "I might need to update your outfit my dear." He interrupts whatever banal thing you were telling him, "Won't you allow me to see how pretty I can make you look." He says stalking closer... oh yes he liked you... oblivious to his intentions... just the way he liked.

Yandere Corvus: He stalks as his primary method of getting close... he yearns and he silently pines for you to look at him with the same gentle looks as you give your friends and family. But the shadows are his friend and it comes less and less of yours... as you feel like you're going crazy... you feel like someone has been following you... like you're always being watched. Perhaps you shouldn't have fed those birds but its not the feeling of being watched that is driving you mad.

You can feel it in the dark... that someone else is there in the shadows... running hands over your body no matter how tightly you pull your blanket close to you at night. You feel fleeting touches in your hair, strands catching on something but there is nothing there to catch your hair... the worse one is the feeling of kisses on your skin. The whisper of your name sometimes it feels like something is trying to get your attention... other times you hear it moaned.

You even dared to get yourself checked out to see if you were a psyker but no you were not which you feel is much worse. You feel things start to slip through your fingers as you feel like you're going crazy... till you wake up one night to see something over your bed. The scream dies in your throat as you just feel so afraid to make a noise as lips ghost over your cheek "Shhh relax" is all he whispers before you pass out afraid. And unfortunately for you... you'll wake up somewhere new.

Yandere Khan: The Khan is hard to yandere because he's so normal... he's funny, he's polite, he's a bit of an ass as well, but he's also ruthless. But perhaps that's what makes him something that his brothers probably aren't... he's a successful yandere. He's successful in keeping his darling in the dark... successful in keeping his darling close all while in the background and out of sight his perversions are played out.

He holds you so tightly when he wants to be affectionate... the way he at times can drown you in affection that it's almost too much but the primarch tells you that he can't help it as his hearts get so full that he has to just show you how much he loves you. Other poetic motions that can easily hide the red flags that speed on past your eyes.

Yandere Mortarion: Sickly sweet until you try to pull away and then his selfish side comes out and you will be like a rabbit caught in a wire trap where the wire squeezes your neck tighter and tighter. Of course most of what he grows will be used to make chemical weapons but you can't help but be enamored with the beauty of the deadly garden. Though perhaps the caretaker of this deadly garden is enamored by you. He wants something nice... something soft... something sweet... and he starts off with giving gifts. He's not blind to mortals customs of courtship having more often then not been the companion that would listen to his friends, Calas mostly, tirades of not knowing what they were doing wrong and yet somehow it was himself that could point out the obvious.

It was the fact he wasn't to the standards of his fellows; apparently he was intimidating... he was ethereal... just what he would learn that there was apparently being far too attractive for your own good... at least for him on Barbaras; he knew he was skin and bones. But he liked to give you gifts from his garden... the wreaths he would weave of flowers that spoke of the depths of his love for you... how he would treasure and cherish you... how he wouldn't let you go... toxic flowers woven in as this was all done in the Barbarasian flower language. As sometimes his mind would fixate and he would realize a whole wreath was of one type of flower practically screaming out his feelings in that moment. Though he did his best to weave sentences but sometimes just he got stuck on how much he felt. Other wreathes he did not send were of all toxic and poisonous flowers... speaking of dark promises of rejected love and should another try to court you.

You were such a sweet and curious thing... smart as well but far too curious for your own good. It was really far too easy for him to lure you close with pretty flowers. Lure you in like a predatory plant... you were far too pretty to be some common insect far more like a mouse... prey too big for many to think to be caught by a plant. And yet you're lured in close with eyes wide open... and the jaws snap shut around the prey as you reciprocate with your own gift.

Just don't try to pull away... lest the vines start to suffocate.

[lightlycareless]

I found a picture of Naoya playing the piano and want to show it to you. My fav scene where naoya teaches his wife piano. I love the scene sm 🤭🤭

HIIII how are you!!!!??? Thank you for patience 🥺

Omg thank you so much for sending me this ajkghajgajgs Naoya is a man of many talents, and him using them to brighten your day is 🥺 I'll always hold that scene close to my heart, them bonding together is just 😭 oh, I wish we could have more moments like that.

And we can... I mean, I wrote a little something, like a deviation from what I have planned lol a what if, if you must 😏

warnings: none. fluff. it's based on this fic. now that's a whole can of worms. proceed with caution.

Imagine you deciding to continue your piano lessons after growing somewhat genuinely interested in learning.

After a few sessions you’ve began to show improvement. Sure, you still struggle with certain things, such as jumping from one octave to the other, but anyone could easily admit you were not the same amateur from before.

And yet… there seemed to be something holding you back from taking the next step. You were already a master of twinkle twinkle little star, so why couldn’t you move onto something a bit more difficult?

Well, it was plain simple. Quite obvious, actually, for an outsider that is. Naoya was too blinded by his role as a teacher to even notice.

It was all intentional, made from your desire to keep him close, enjoying the way he’d place his arms around you, his large hands over yours as he guides you into the correct position to play even if you already knew how.

All to keep feeling his breath on your skin, the cologne you now solely associated with him, and you suppose his attention too, especially when you played the shy, tense student that desperately needed the guidance of her sensei.

To voice such ploys made you feel silly, if not selfish, but you didn’t know how to voice your need without feeling embarrassed. You didn’t want to appear needy before a man that is always busy, and yet, here you were, acting as if you’d never seen a piano in your life.

Now, don’t get me wrong, Naoya loves spending time with you, even though seemingly mundane activities. But even he was getting a bit… frustrated with these lessons that were quickly growing repetitive. His perfectionist temperament demanded he’d do everything right, or at least strive for it, naturally extending to you. Obviously for you, the woman whom he wanted to please more than anything in this world.

You showed enough promise, a talent that could be polished if pursued, so why weren’t you advancing?

Was it… him, perhaps? Your actions consequence of his failure as a teacher?

Maybe. Naoya isn’t known for being a particularly good listener, less of an educator. There’s enough witnesses to asses to it.

Your husband just hopes his incapability doesn’t push you away from wanting to learn piano, Naoya would rather die than to cut short these already scarce moments with you.

Though it’s more likely that he’ll do that anyways, a well-prepared teacher appears to be a better alternative.

“… but I don’t get it. Maybe there’s something I’m not seeing.” Naoya frowns, adjusting his position near you and taking your hands with him once more, hoping that it’ll come to him. The solution to your problem.

He sighs when it doesn’t. For the nth time. Maybe he is a bad teacher after all.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I don’t think I’ll be able to teach you anymore.”

“Huh? Why?”

“I’m just having a tough time figuring out how to help you.” Naoya laments. “I may have underestimated my skills.”

You know what they say, the best way to check if you know something is by teaching it to someone else. Something like that, or so he’s heard.

“Don’t say that I think you’re doing great!” You encouraged, looking over to Naoya and his deep frown, evidence of the frustration your little ploy has inflicted on him. Had you known he would be so affected by it you would’ve gone easier with your obliviousness…

And yet, it was endearing to see your impact on him. How hard he was trying to make things work for you—you still couldn’t believe how much of an influence you had on him, even if he’s already proved the lengths he was willing to go to make you happy.

…Like the protective husband he swore to be on your wedding day.

“You don’t have to mock me, mochi” Naoya insists. “I think you’d be better off with an actual teacher if you still want to learn.”

You do, but…

“…I want you.” You murmur, so lowly, so… sweetly, that Naoya had to double check he heard you right the first time around, quickly swirling his head onto your direction, frozen the moment your doe-like, hypnotizing eyes, those he could never get enough of, landed on his, with such intensity that let him know it was all true.

The purpose you were attempting to convey many lessons ago instantly becoming clear to him. The intentions you were too shy to speak out loud, but not enough to sway you from trying, an unknown edge of yours that had him both impressed and absorbed.

One never stops knowing their partner, do they?

What an enthralling thought to have.

“Is that so?” He murmurs back, leaning closer to you. “You’d be fine with someone like me as your teacher, princess?”

“I couldn’t think of anyone… better.” You blush. And though intimidated by his piercing gaze, you persisted. When you once cowered away, you now wished to be the only person his eyes saw.

“Then I guess I’ll have to try harder.”

Maybe it’s because he was within your reach, or because you had enough of going around in circles, whatever it was, you couldn’t hold back anymore; and with the noise of your heart deafening your ears, you lean closer to him, removing the gap between the two and placing your lips over his. Gently, sweetly, like it was your first time, and took him in—sealing your newfound sentiments with a kiss he’s long been dreaming of.

So much that he’s almost in disbelief, remaining still as he tries his best to both contain his excitement, heart ready to burst through his chest, hands itching to pull you closer and keep you there, afraid that the moment he peels away you’ll disappear, just as he’s forced you to through the beginning of this marriage.

Naoya too felt like it was the first time he’s ever kissed anyone—perhaps kissed anyone with love. With that soft warmth he could only label as true love. What he feels for you now, has always been so, and hopefully, you too.

After a few seconds, much to Naoya’s dismay, you’re the first one to separate, slowly pulling away and opening your eyes to the sight of your flustered husband, the adorable face of a man that has dreamed of this day for god knows how long, giving you the impression (alongside a sense of guilt) that maybe you should’ve been a bit more direct with your actions.

Though how everything came to be… wasn’t that bad.

“You didn’t have to go through all that, you know?” Naoya teases, his attempt to cool down the heat on his cheeks. “If you just wanted to kiss me, you just had to say so.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you joke back, and he smirks, letting out a chuckle. “…But I guess I shouldn’t have wasted your time.”

“Being with you is no waste of time.”

Now it’s your turn to grow speechless, face red, perhaps even more than Naoya’s, due to the vast, unexpected sweetness of his words, and the overwhelming embarrassment it provided you, leading you to cover your face with your hands and making him laugh even louder.

“You don’t need to act this way with me, love.” Naoya says, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. “We’ve done more… heated things, after all. This is nothing.”

“Oh, stop it! Is that your way of comforting me?!” You gasp, burying your face deeper into his chest.

“It is the truth, love. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“You know well I wasn’t referring to that” you murmur. “…but… do you really feel that way…?”

“I’d give you the whole world if you asked.”

But even if you didn’t, he was going to do so, because he has long sworn in his own life that he’d do everything in his power to make up for all the wrongdoings he’s inflicted upon you. His best to erase the vile acts he did when he called himself your so-called husband.

For as long as it takes, all of his lifetime if so needed, and the next one, and the next one.

“I think I’ll be happy just to hear you play the piano for now.” You eventually add. “If you don’t have anything else to do.”

“I’m all yours today—”

“And...” you interrupt, Naoya blinks.

“And?”

“If I can kiss you again.” You say, shyly looking up to him. “If you want…”

“Hm, I don’t know… you’ll have to convince me.”

“How do I do that?” you tilt your head.

“By giving me a kiss for each time you had me going around in circles.”

With unprecedented speed, you quickly grabbed his face and begging to pepper kisses all over his face, Naoya more than happy that you were, and a bit startled too.

“Wait, Y/N—did you even want to learn how to play??” He rightfully concludes.

“A bit, I guess.” You giggle. “But really I just wanted to be with you.”

Naoya immediately succumbs to your gestures soon after that, putty on your hands as he lets himself be appreciated by the woman of his dreams, the love of his life—the owner of his heart.

Your heart squeezes with longing. Who knew Naoya could be this… adorable? So sweet, you didn’t have the heart to deny him—

Nor would you, setting to live out the rest of your life as his wife.

For good, this time.

I always liked the idea of you being able to feel Naoya's heart. Like, how fast it is beating because of how happy he is with you 🥺 Thankfully I do have another prompt with that exact same situation, though it's a HS au. Also, this is not their fated kiss I owe y'all, I think what I have planned is much better 😏 (or so I hope)

Now, thank you so much for waiting for my answer 🥺 I'm still slowly but surely working through them requests :> I always appreciate whenever you send me something (so don't be afraid of sharing more hehe)

Take care and hope to see you soon!!

[mrs-kmikaelson]

06| The Tribrid

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x daughter!reader Summary: While you busy yourself with making sure the deal with the witches runs smoothly, Klaus occupies himself by trying to figure you out. Warnings: none Words: 4.4K

Masterlist | Part 7

I walked into my house, throwing my keys on the side-table next to the door and shrugging off my jacket. I checked my watch: 2:01 PM, so Davina was still at school and wouldn't be back 'til she was done practicing with the witches. 

I just got back from lunch with Elijah where we went over the Mikaelson's terms in more detail. Genevieve had sent a witch to the Abattoir earlier like a carrier pigeon with an outline of their requests.

Pretty dramatic, if you ask me, but she was like just resurrected. She probably doesn't know how to text yet, so whatever.

After Elijah and I talked over everything, I left, telling him I'd type up the contract myself. As an immortal with plenty of time on my hands, I've gone to law school and pursued numerous careers, as I'm sure Elijah probably had, too, so there was no need to hire (compel) someone else to write this contract for us.

I made my way to my room, passing Davina's on the way which was filled with boxes and a few things placed haphazardly on the ground. My room looked a little different: pretty plain, bed parallel to the door. Normal, basically. 

I walked into my adjoining walk-in closet which was probably the most interesting thing about this room. At first glance, it looked mundane; there were some eye-catching statement pieces, but this closet otherwise just looked like a closet.

Unless you knew what to look for.

I closed the closet door for good measure and turned to the back wall, waving my hand and muttering, "Invisique saeclum." Instantly, the illusion of the wall disappear and another, smaller, more compact room was revealed.

It was lined with shelves, books stacked on top of each them. I walked closer, going to pick up the book closest to me. My grimoire. Like the rest of the books in this closet, it was dusty. I haven't needed to look for a spell in a long while. 

I placed it down on the island in the middle of the room before turning to find the other book I needed. Under a few other books, I found what I was looking for: Amelia's grimoire.

I put it down next to mine, staring at both of them. Strong nostalgia came over me. I hadn't looked at her grimoire in long time, or even my own, for that matter. Both of them should have been worn down now after all these years, but a simple preservation spell kept them in pristine condition, looking just as they had when I was younger.

My lips quirked up as I ran my hand along their covers, memories flashing before my eyes of my childhood. But as quick as the happiness came, it disappeared with the thought of how that very childhood was stolen from me.

Enough with memory lane.

I switched my focus onto the purpose of even grabbing these books, opening my grimoire and flipping through it until I found the page I was looking for. 

Illusion spells.

While I was very familiar with this type of spell, the one I wanted to perform was a little different. It was similar to the average cloaking spell, but I wanted a physical manifestation of an object: a decoy.

I wasn't stupid. I was never going to give Genevieve my aunt's grimoire. The only reason the witches wanted something so powerful was for leverage, and they weren't gonna get it. I knew all this last night, so instead of actually giving them Amelia's grimoire, I'd give them a copy.

But this copy had to feel real, tangible. Its energy needed to be able to be sensed in the same way it was with the real thing. They needed to feel like they could trust us, even if the Mikaelsons—or myself, for that matter—didn't trust them.

The thing with magic was that it worked through energy. Witches have their own special type of energy that enables them to perform spells. That's why you could practice magic without incantations; so long as the intent was there and it was strong enough, then your spell would work.

The reason why we often do use incantations is because words hold power. The history behind them holds enough energy to basically back the spell up. So, if you were using spells that weren't your own, then you would also want to use the chant because, without one, your own intent wouldn't be strong enough for the magic to pull through.

That's why I was going to change the incantations written down altogether.

At first, I was gonna exclude certain pages from Genevieve's copy completely, but then I realized that, without the powerful spells, she'd be less likely to trust us. So then I just change them so that they still made sense, but wouldn't work.

Without the written incantations that Bennetts had chanted in the past, these spells would be useless. If the words didn't hold any significance, then they were pointless.

Which was exactly my goal.

I hovered my left hand over Amelia's grimoire, hovering the other over blank space on the island. I closed my eyes and began, "Phantamogriphia decorum, appearatas veridical. Phantamogriphia decorum, appearatas veridical." After repeating this a few times, I felt the emergence of energy into the room and opened my eyes to see a book identical to Amelia's under my right hand.

I picked it up, flipping through it and stopping every once in a while to alter a spell, muttering incantations under my breath so the words on the page would appear as if they were Amelia's handwriting.

When I was done, I set it down on the island to compare it to Amelia's real grimoire. It was almost impossible to tell the difference unless you actually knew her. There was only a slight difference in the energy emitting from each book, but I knew this was fool-proof.

With a grin, I returned mine and Amelia's grimoires to their spots, bringing the cloak of the wall back. I grabbed the fake and stuffed it into my bag, tossing it onto a chair in my room. For now, I'd go type up the contract, then I'd walk over to the compound to give it to Elijah.

With that, I walked over to my office.

THIRD PERSON, THE NIGHT BEFORE

Klaus stood off to the side while his brother and his latest fixation spoke to the witches. He was silent; Elijah already warned him earlier not to cause a fuss, and the last thing he wanted was a fight with a Elijah. He had enough to deal with, this agreement included.

This evening, however, was not something he wanted.

Klaus couldn't care less if the factions tore each other apart in the streets. All of this was Elijah's doing, and so Klaus was only there to oversee it. Truth be told, he wasn't even going to show until Elijah told him Y/N was going to be there.

That caught his interest.

He couldn't figure it out, but there was something about this girl that pulled him to her. She looked familiar; he just couldn't pinpoint where he knew her from.

It seemed that others found her just as fascinating. For some reason, she had the trust of the Quarter's residents, but she wasn't going to get Klaus' trust so easily.

There was something off about her, something far greater than familiarity. And he was going to figure it out.

No matter what.

His attention was drawn away from Y/N when Genevieve cut her off. The words that came out of her mouth had stunned him.

"Esther Mikaelson's grimoire. We want Esther Mikaelson's grimoire."

Elijah's request for peace this evening suddenly went over his head. He scowled, "Are you out of your mind?"

"Niklaus-"

"I am not giving you my mother's grimoire. After what you tried to do to my family, you expect me to hand over-"

"Niklaus." Klaus stopped, turning to look at Elijah. His jaw clenched when he saw the look on his brother's face. He calmed down slightly, glancing at Y/N, wondering how she was going to talk her way out of this one.

Even as he glowered at Genevieve, he couldn't help but feel smug. There was no way out of this, and the oh so special Y/N would fail.

Or so he thought. 

Y/N declined her request, as he predicted. Genevieve went to pull out of the deal, as he predicted. What he didn't predict was what Y/N said next.

"I currently have a Bennett grimoire in my possession." His head snapped in her direction. His eyes met Elijah's who looked just as surprised as him. He glanced over at the witches who luckily didn't notice their reactions, too engulfed in shock of their own. "It's yours, so long as you accept."

The rest of the conversation became muffled to Klaus, as if he were underwater. He could tell she wasn't bluffing—that, or she was a really good liar. He suspected that both were true. So many thoughts ran through his head at once.

While he thought she must have won Elijah over with that save, this only deepened his own distrust in her. A Bennett's grimoire was extremely hard to come by. They were guarded as if they were the holy grail. If he, the Original Hybrid, wasn't able to get his hands on one, then how did a mere vampire acquire one?

And why was she giving it up like it was pocket change?

He tuned back into the conversation when all parties stood up, Y/N and Genevieve shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries that he didn't care for. As Elijah walked the witches out, Klaus didn't glance at Genevieve once, even though he felt like glaring at her whenever he saw her. Instead, his glare was directed to Y/N.

Their eyes locked, and Y/N only continued to surprise him by staring right back. She was confident, and assertive, and unfazed with every comment he threw her way. He kept trying to shake her, but she appeared to be rooted to her spot every time. This only annoyed him.

He was so focused that he didn't even notice when his brother walked back into the room. Elijah thanked her, making Y/N look away to respond. Klaus had an inkling that Elijah wouldn't bring up what just happened, so he had no choice but to be the one to do it.

"How do you have a Bennett grimoire in your possession?" He interrogated, suspicion audible in his voice. Elijah gave him a look that was ignored.

He watched Y/N's body language as she responded, looking for any signs of a lie. "I met one a few hundred years ago. She died after she was in the wrong place, wrong time, but she left that book to me."

She must take me for a fool, he thought. The nerve of her to think he'd believe that. "A Bennett witch left her grimoire with you, a vampire? Not with her family?" He enunciated each word slowly as if to emphasize his point.

A Bennett witch leaving something as valuable as her grimoire to a member of the species they hated was unheard of. 

Y/N gave an excuse, saying the witch wasn't close with her family at the time, as if that made it any more believable. "And I was human at the time so, yes, she left it to me because she knew it could come of use one day."

She showed no indication that she was lying, and if her story was real, then her excuses were reasonable. Perhaps if the story were coming from someone else, he would've rolled over and believed it. But this was coming from Marcel's supposed 'best friend,' the woman who so happened to be there the night Hayley was almost attacked, who had his brother so interested in her that he forced him to allow Marcel back into the Quarter all for the sake of a deal. This was coming from the woman who reminded him so much of a ghost from his past.

So, no, Klaus did not believe her.

Elijah, on the other hand, didn't look as vexed. He cleared his throat and changed the subject, thanking her again. Y/N turned around, making plans for another meeting. She didn't look back at Klaus once, but he was staring at her until even after she walked out the gate.

Elijah sighing broke him out of his trance. "Must you be so difficult, Niklaus?"

Klaus rolled his eyes. "If you want to turn a blind eye to all of this, then by all means. But this woman is so obviously hiding something." He reached for his scotch, downing the rest of it in one go.

"Niklaus, please-"

He cut him off, "No, Elijah—you can't honestly be telling me that you don't see what I'm seeing. She acts as if she's guilty of something-"

"Innocent until proven guilty."

Klaus scoffed. Elijah's immediate impulse to see the best in everyone could very well one day be his downfall. For some reason, he was defending Y/N, even though they both knew the only reason they really brought her in was because he saw the same things Klaus did.

Klaus shook his head. "She's not who she says she is." This time, Elijah's response didn't come as quick. He only silently maintained his stare. Little did Klaus know, his brother had doubts of his own.

Elijah's response never came. He closed the book on the conversation completely. "Good night, Niklaus." Elijah walked way, patting Klaus' shoulder as he passed him before going up the stairs. The hybrid cursed him in his head. How could he be so stupid, he thought.

He knew you were hiding something. 

And he would make it his personal job to figure out what it was.

FIRST PERSON, PRESENT

I closed my laptop, having just printed out the contract. With Marcel, contracts were never necessary; you would just trust the other person's word. But, in this new society, trust could not be guaranteed. 

I sighed, checking the time. Davina should be home any minute now.

Right on cue, I heard a knock at the door. I furrowed my brows. Didn't I give her a key?

She must have left it her by accident. Not thinking anything of it, I got up, walking to the door absentmindedly. "Hey, Dav-" my words died down in my throat once I opened the door. Standing in front of me wasn't Davina.

It was Klaus.

He coyly smiled. "Hello, Y/N. May I come in?" For a quick second, I was stunned. I wasn't expecting this at all. How did he even know I lived here? I wondered before dismissing the thought. He's Klaus Mikaelson; of course, he knows where I live.

I quickly composed myself, reciprocating his smile, only hoping that mine didn't look as fake as his. I held the door open wider. "Of course." The act of Klaus stepping over the threshold into my home almost made me sick, but I didn't dare show it on my face.

"Lovely home you have here," he said, looking around, but I doubted he was just looking out curiosity, and that compliment felt nothing like a compliment to me. What the fuck is he doing here?

I thanked him, resisting the urge to cross my arms. I learned in the few psych classes I attended that it was a sign of discomfort. I instead tried to make myself less stiff, asking myself how a normal person would act in this situation and then trying to behave that way.

"Would you like something to drink? Water, tea, Brandy....?" 

Klaus shook his head, declining. He still wasn't looking at me, continuing to stare at my house. He seemed to be searching for something, and I had an idea what it was.

Well, he wouldn't find it.

I skipped over the like five other questions I had, asking, "What brings you here?" I kept my voice light, even though he probably knew that I knew what he was doing. I was already gonna be heading over to the compound later where he would've seen me. He had no reason to be here other than to look for some sort of flaw.

Finally, Klaus looked over at me. "Elijah's currently preoccupied, so I told him I'd just come here and get what you were supposed to give to him." Bullshit. But I'd play this game. I've won far harder ones.

I reminded myself of the pact I made to myself when I left the compound yesterday, of everything I've endured over the course of my life. If I went through what I went through, then I could go through speaking to my father.

I faked nonchalance. "Right, the contract. I'll go get that right now." I went to my room, grabbing the stapled pages and Amelia's grimoire out of my bag, ignoring the fact that the hybrid could've done anything in the less than thirty seconds I left him alone. However, when I got back, he seemed to be in exact same spot, waiting patiently for my return. 

"Here," I said, handing them to both to him. He hummed, flipping through the pages—though, I doubt he was reading anything, even though the contents of the folder I just gave him were only drafted in attempts to save his city.

But I didn't have to have known Klaus long to know that this wasn't about saving anything for him. Men like him didn't save; they destroyed, and my mother raised me well enough to make sure I never forgot that.

When he closed the folder, he looked at the grimoire with a serious stare. I would've been worried that he was trying to see past my glamour had I not been as strong as I was. Nobody could see past my illusions other than myself; it's always been that way, and it'll always be that way.

Instead, I could bet he was questioning its authenticity or even my authenticity. The white lie I gave the other night was convincing enough to get me out of the compound, but since Klaus was looking for any reason to support his distrust in me, he obviously still had reservations.

Before I could continue with my train of thought, Klaus looked up at me and abruptly questioned, "Where are you from?" My brows went up. Out of all the things he could've said, that was on my list of least expected.

But I wasn't expecting any of the other things that'd happened in my life since I returned to New Orleans, either.

My first instinct was to respond, why do you ask? but that felt defensive and that was the last thing I wanted to come off as to my father. I told him what I told most people who asked. "A little bit of everywhere, I suppose." I shrugged for effect. "I was travelling at a young age due to conflicts around my family, so I was all over Europe as a child."

The suspicion Klaus so eagerly showed me the other night was tucked away. Instead, he only hummed again, but clearly he didn't believe me; otherwise, he would've left it alone, but I could never be so lucky. 

"And how old are you? If you don't mind my asking," he added, as if he cared about whether not I minded.

I didn't hesitate. "About five hundred years old, give or take."

He hummed in response, adding to my irritation, but I was much better at hiding what I was thinking than he was. Not that he was trying. "Well, I suppose I should've assumed so since the Bennett witches had fled to America around that time period." He stared me dead in the eye, a smug smile on his face but a much more serious look in his eyes. 

He was pretty close to me, close enough that I could see his eyes—and I mean really see them. They were blue with twinges of green and brown that I hadn't seen from far away before. And even though almost nothing scared the crap out of me more than the fact that his eyes looked like mine, I stared right back like I had no fears at all.

"Yeah, that's true," I agreed, but I didn't offer anything further. The only other things I could've added to this conversation to convince him I wasn't lying were facts from my personal life and that was information I wouldn't soon give up. 

I didn't know how well Klaus knew my mother before they conceived me, if he knew her best friend's name or even her own, for that matter. So there were some details I just had to keep to myself; revealing certain things may have had the ability to help me, but they could also hurt me just as easily.

That was a risk I wasn't going to take.

Klaus just kept staring at me, and I almost thought he'd never look away until the door opened. We both turned to see Davina in the doorway, keys in her hand.

Her mouth fell open slightly, eyes darting between me and the Original in our living room. Said Original broke the silence. "Ah, if it isn't the little witch."

I watched Davina swallow but still manage to glare at him. "Klaus."

Klaus held his hands up in surrender, that same "friendly" smile on his face that was anything but. "Relax, love. I come in peace." He then looked back over at me. "I was just leaving." With that, he walked toward the door. Back still turned to me, he uttered a thank you for what I gave him and wished us a wonderful night, patting Davina on the shoulder on his way out.

The teenager barely waited until Klaus was out the door to close it, looking over at me with incredulous eyes. Just as her mouth was about to open, I brought my finger to my lips, silently shushing her and pointing to my ear.

She got the message, exasperatedly sighing and running a hand through her hair while I used my hearing to listen to Klaus walk away. Once I could no longer hear his footsteps, I let my finger fall. Davina instantly let her questions loose.

"What the hell was he doing here? Why'd you let him in- no, how did he get in? What was that stuff he walked out with and why did that book look like a grimoire? Oh my God, does he know that you're a-"

I cut her off, "Davina. Slow down and I'll explain." At my interruption she paused, taking a breath. I couldn't help but be amused at her worry, even though the Devil himself had just been standing in my living room.

Once she was calm, I elaborated, summarizing the deal I'd made with Elijah and then the deal we'd just made with the witches. Although I trusted Davina, I gave her the same story I gave Klaus when it came to the grimoire. There were some things just better kept secret and, for now, Amelia Bennett and my family fell under that category.

After I'd explained everything, Davina nodded to herself, soaking it all in, muttering under her breath, "That must've been what everyone was talking about today, a deal with the Mikaelsons." She pursed her lips. "Yeah, I heard Genevieve and some others whispering something about a Bennett witch, so it must've been that."

I nodded. "Yeah, and as for Klaus being here, I let him in myself. Don't worry; the protections are fine." She finally seemed to calm down after that.

"Okay, I guess I'll just go do my homework now or something. See you, Y/N/N." I ruffled her hair as she walked past me, getting a faux angry pout that didn't last long before a smile started to form on her lips. Like her happiness was contagious, the corners of my lips upturned, too.

It was good to see her happy, busying herself with things like homework. That's what teens should be doing, not hiding away in attics, isolated from humanity. Death shouldn't have even crossed her mind but I knew that, living in the world we lived in, that wasn't an option.

In spite of that, I would do my best to preserve her childhood for as long as I could. There was no one there to do that for me, and I'd be damned if I would just stand by and watch as hers was stolen from her.

Davina meant too much to me to allow that to happen, but even so, there were still things about me that she didn't know. There were things about me that no one knew, no matter how close to me they'd gotten.

No one knew I was Klaus' daughter, no one but Amelia, my mother, and the person who killed her.

At that thought, my mood became sour, but instead of drowning in my own self-pity, I blocked the thoughts completely. I couldn't afford to be in New Orleans with Klaus Mikaelson watching my every move and to also think about that part of my past.

So I pulled out my phone and dialled until Cellie's voice filled my ear, "Hey, what's up?"

"Hey, let's go out. We can hit up that new club downtown. And call Cami up, too; we can all go and just have fun."

"Not that I oppose this in anyway, but what brought up this spontaneousness?"

"Nothing," I lied. "I just want to have a night-out on the town. C'mon, Marcel; don't be boring."

He gave in, "Alright, alright, fine. I'll call Cami."

I grinned. "Great; meet at my place." Before he could say anything else, I hung up on him. This was just the sort of thing I needed, to go out like everything was normal.

I rushed to go get ready, pushing all thoughts of Klaus and my past to the back of my mind. For one night, just one, I wanted to feel like myself again.

Ever since I got back to New Orleans, I've felt like this shell of myself. Around the Originals, I felt like little-kid-me. All of these memories and thoughts that I've worked to repress have just been resurfacing, and so, for one night, I just want to feel like myself again. That'll help me get it all together.

I was gonna go out tonight, not as a Mikaelson, but as a Y/L/N.

And after that, I was gonna bury Y/N Mikaelson for good.

Taglist: @scrynexxtins @thisnameistaken1234 @honestlycasualarcade @xlittlestarling @thatgirljas13

[kerizaret]

Something about Tsukasa, the most show-off character ever, who always stands out and has so many of these flashy card, getting a fes card that's surprisingly... simple. Domestic. ""Plain"" even, in comparison to what we were used to (mostly the trained version but some could argue the untrained as well)

I know we were expecting something grand like Tsukasa himself and I see a lot of people being disappointed but honestly... I think this fits a lot actually. This might've just been the best choice for Tsukasa' fes

Because really, under all that attitude and boldness and showing off, Tsukasa's dream and feelings are kind of... simple. To make people smile. To be a world famous star, yes, but that's only the means to the goal of making everyone around the world happy

This is one of the most important developments of Tsukasa from how he was in the main story. Being a star is NOT just being a great, famous actor to him – he's proven it countless times. It's obviously a very big part of it, but if it was just about acting then why does he also constantly reference to being a "star" in more "mundane" situations unrelated to acting?

A star inspires. A star makes his sister smile. A star doesn't worry those around him. A star helps those in need. A star guides those who are lost. A star would choose to save the amusement park that makes everyone happy and means the world to his best friend instead of trying to win a contest to gain fame. These aren't exactly things related to being an actor or a celebrity

It's more as if a part of being a "star" is... being like a big brother?

Tsukasa's whole dream stemmed from just him wanting to make Saki smile; shows were just what proved to be something that could achieve it. Is it really such a surprise then that this is what his goal revolves around as well? What he believes a "star" should be when they're not on a stage? And what his fragment SEKAI bases on?

Not on being a flashy, famous star in the spotlight. But on being the person you can rely on that will take care of your worries and turn your frown upside down. Someone you will look at and think of home. And that's something so simple and domestic, and something I feel like is reflected really nicely in his trained fes

Hell, his outfit is called "Kind Brother" too. Because that's who Tsukasa is first and foremost, to himself

If that isn't enough proof than idk what else is

[noowayybroo]

Give the dog a bone😏(Part 1) (SFW)

Characters: Dogman!Leon Kennedy, GN!Reader (Part 2 will be NSFW F! Reader)

hi ik we're all a bit horny and busy here! We on that grind (in more ways than one!) so I'm trying to keep the story short and sweet I LOVE YOU ALL

Warnings: FIRST PART IS SFW AND GN! READER AND IG SOME FLUFF OR A WEIRD STORY?? PART PART 2 WILL BE Smut and NSFW, Leon and reader are initially friends / colleagues. Set after RE4. Lazy writing because I'm too busy and hate writing no cap. dogman anatomy. Hunnigan exists but is irrelevant.

Irrelevant blabbering that you don't have to read: That title is NOT from The Squeeze's "Cool For Cats" Hi guys! Guess who's a university student now! And guess who's unbelievably even MORE busy than they were when they actually stopped writing fics. It's me! Thank you SO SO MUCH for the well wishes and kind words and general love and support I recieved, even when my blog was dead to the world. It means the world. This fic idea has been gnawing at my insides, as has the shame and guilt that has come with wanting to write it. Thanks for reading. Thanks for being here, you rock! you slap! I love you! And I'm still making stuff on Etsy if you're interested (shameful plug, sorry.)

It'd been entire weeks since Leon had embarked on his mission in Spain. Whilst this didn't sound like a lot, his trips usually took a few days, and were packed with back and forth correspondence (via Hunnigan, of course.) The last time you'd heard from possibly him was a few days ago, when late at night you'd received a message on your personal phone.

"Hey, It's me, I'm coming home." - Unknown Number - 22:34 pm.

Your heart sang. After apparent radio silence for days (unless they were keeping you in the dark) it had to be him. He had to be coming home. You were excited, glad and thrilled all at once. You hadn't lost your friend. Yet, at least.

Days passed. Worry seeped back in. It gnawed at the corner of your mind as you replied to the number for the fourth time, hoping SOMEONE would reply. You wanted to run the number by someone in your team, maybe they could find out where it was from, but then again, you wanted to respect Leon's privacy.

6 days had passed since that message. 6 whole days... Was it actually Leon who'd messaged you? On a particularly drizzly Wednesday afternoon, you sat at your desk fiddling in a vain attempt to rid yourself of your guilt and anxiety. Perhaps Leon needed your help. Maybe, you should stop being so selfish and show the higherups that message. Maybe it wasn't him... Maybe that message wasn't even for you. Maybe someone else needed someone else's help.

Frustrated, you sigh and throw your head back. The ceiling is plain, it's calm. A soft grey, just like the sky outside. And the mundane-ness of it all somehow distracts you. Leon's just a friend, nothing more. He sits next to you in your office, so what? It's not like you're going to get married. He goes on these missions all the time. He'll be fine.

You lower your gaze back to your desk. At least you would, if it weren't snagged by the sheepish figure standing in the doorway to your joint office. There he stood, Leon Kennedy, in the flesh. Bandaged heavily, but he stood there. He was dressed strangely. He wore a hoodie, choosing to keep the hood up, and baggy sweat-pants. His sleeves were far down, covering almost his entire arm, and his mouth was awkwardly screwed shut as if he were worried to open it.

His eyes dance around the room, shyly greeting the few people who'd stayed late to meet deadlines, which you just so happened to be one of (the worry had been killing your productivity.) Once they land on yours, he gives a soft smile and stumbles forward a little, letting go of the doorway which he clung to so tightly. He looked so... sick.

More than concerned, you stand to meet him, arms gently wrapping around him as he just about stops himself from falling into you by grabbing the desk. He's warm, so warm, shivering slightly, and he smells good, to your relief and surprise. You figure he must have returned from his mission a while ago. He had time to clean, apparently, but not to rest. Dark bags lined his bright eyes, cuts and bruises adorned his pale face.

You're in too much awe and shock to even feel the tears pricking your eyes, but you sigh into him in response, hugging him close, relieved. He returns the gesture, head falling into your shoulder as he lets out a deep sigh, far too content to take note of the many eyes on you now. You, however, are very aware, and promptly pull away, but not before registering the deep breath Leon takes in as his head rests by your neck.

Somewhat reddened, you offer him his chair, and he obediently sits with haste. His cool blue eyes never leave you as you sit before him, his throat bobbing in anticipation.

"I've missed you" he rasps, entirely undeterred by the few eyes that still linger, for some reason finding this interaction more thrilling than their stacks of paper. You certainly believe his words. Leon's eyes are wide, pupils blown as if he's trying to take in as much of you as possible. Perhaps he's just glad to be alive, you think. Whilst you're shy, you must admit that that hug was wonderful. And you'd maybe want it to last longer or go further if prying eyes weren't laser focused on you.

"I've missed you too" you breathe, still in disbelief. "when did you get back??" In response, Leon tells you (in quiet whisper) about his whereabouts. He doesn't go into much detail at all, but you learn that he's been to Spain, and actually got back from Spain 5 days ago. Since he got back, he was actually being held in a Government facility, where they ran tests on him and 'made sure it was safe for me to see you all.'

He swallows again.

Concern fills you: Why wouldn't it be safe? What happened to him out there that he doesn't want to tell you? Is he actually alright? And most importantly...

"Why are you dressed like that?" you giggle, trying to curve your overt frown. Your eyes drift over his toned form briefly as he sits before you, comfortably manspreading and leaning oh-so-slightly into your space. You weren't trying to check him out. He was your friend. However, despite the baggy clothing doing its best to deter your sights, you couldn't help but take in his plump thighs and toned arms. His large hands flex as he runs them through his fringe a few times, clearing it from his eyes. He lets out a deep exhale.

"It's... a long story." He huffs, seemingly not too eager to show and tell. You return his huff, slightly tempered this time, eyes drifting up to the hood he wore. He catches your gaze and narrows his eyes, a playful warning. Although you didn't dare go into detail, Leon could tell you'd worried about him and eagerly awaited his return. He knew he meant a lot to you, and you to him (though he wasn't sure if you were aware of that.) He knew you were worried about the tests, and he knew your sudden playful persona was in spite of every other emotion he'd guiltily put you through.

That being said, he wasn't able to match your mischievous guise as your hand slowly and gently raises up to touch his hood. A strong hand grabs your wrist, gentle yet firm. He doesn't hurt you at all, yet you find yourself unable to move. His expression grows serious.

"Y/N. The hood's gonna stay on, alright?" He asks softly, eyes easing a little as he takes in your startled expression. You falter, becoming a little upset. You just wanted to mess around. You couldn't do that either? He senses the change in mood. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he says quickly, shaking his head as he lets go of your arm "I know, I'm gonna have to take it off at some point. Look, there's something... Something's happening to me, alright??" He whispers softly into your ear "Can you get off work now?"

To your relief, you're not sure when, but everyone seems to have looked away by now. Shakily, you nod, and after packing up and signing out of your PC, you and Leon leave the building. It's a nice walk, despite the rain, fended off by an umbrella he'd borrowed from the station. Your talk is pleasant, beating around the topic of his strange dress until a strong arm reaches in front of you, gently pushing ajar the door to your local Coffee Place. It's a nice, simple Cafe that you and Leon frequented on your ways home, especially on drizzly days like this.

Shaking off his umbrella, Leon follows you inside to the booth you usually sit at together. Many hours were spent here chit-chatting, sometimes alone and sometimes with other co-workers and friends. You'd discuss playful topics, the workload, things about the boss you didn't want anyone to hear. It was also here that Leon would gossip to you and only you about his 'confidential' missions, purely because you'd earned that trust.

It was here that he was about to tell you his new secret.

You both enjoyed this place because it was often empty. It's not that the service was poor, quite the opposite. The empty, quiet air allowed orders to swiftly be taken and fulfilled. The servers were polite, and you always got to sit at your special booth. You hid away from the outside world together drinking anything from coffee to bubble tea, and trusting the staff to give you both that ...platonic space.

Once your drinks were ordered, you and Leon got to talking.

"Listen, Y/N, I can tell you now." His eyes are wide, genuine, dancing between your own and your hands, as if he'd like to take them in his own. However, he refrains. Whatever's on his mind, it must be special. Too special for your ears, then.

"Leon... It's alright, you don't have to, please-"

"No, I want to tell you, it's alright. Everyone's going to find out anyway" he's serious, his leg gently bouncing under the table in anticipation "You can tell people, they'll know, it's fine, I just don't want to scare you."

"Scare me??" You couldn't believe your ears. If this was something public, then surely it couldn't be so bad. Why was he scared to tell you... Unless... was it that thing Hunnigan let slip? The virus... thing? You lean in, whispering as quietly as you can, almost only mouthing it to him "Leon... that... parasite.... Did it get you?"

His face drops. His mouth hangs open and he stares in disbelief for a while. You were right. Your face falls too. Was he dying?

"Leon- Are you Okay, I-" You begin to stammer, beyond horrified. You desperately try to form the words. What do you ask him? What do you say?

Once he comes to, he quickly shakes his head, gently taking your hands in his now, firmly, comforting you. "Wait. Wait please listen, yes Y/N, yes it did get me. But I'm okay. I'm fine... It's gone."

What? It was gone?? Well now you're back at stage one.... What was the issue?

"I did get infected by the parasite, but there was a scientist there, and he saved me... But there were these, look, don't be scared please, they tested me, I'm not gonna hurt you..." he eyes you, and when you don't seem to show any protest, he continues under his breath, voice thick and shaky.

"There were these dogs... Infected dogs... and one of them bit me."

Leon leans back and releases your hands just as the waitress comes by to hand you both your order. She smiles and leaves, and hesitantly, Leon's hands find his way up to his hood. Removing it reveals two large, houndish ears that flip upwards as his hood relieves them. They twitch, angling themselves towards you. Furry, soft and golden, they're... adorable. They look so... real.

Once again, you're left speechless. What can you say? Leon's now... a werewolf? A dog??

You knew this change was brought on by some kind of parasite, a virus that controlled the body and mind. You knew it was able to give its victims an inhumane strength, and somewhat invincibility... You knew whatever did this to Leon made him dangerous.

And yet, like a fool, you trusted him, the victim.

That's all Leon was now, a host for this virus, probably, and for some reason, you took his human side not wanting to hurt you as justification for trusting his infected self completely.

Leon continued to explain some of his symptoms. He ranted and whimpered about how he's losing his mind, how he can smell, hear and taste so much better than ever. He described how you can't see it but how his tongue has even changed. How his ears are growing each day, how his teeth are getting sharper. He tells you about how he's growing a tail, how his nails grow faster...

But you? You're lost to the world in your own sense of deep thought. You trusted Leon, you'd already made peace with it completely. You weren't scared of him at all, although you were a little afraid THAT you weren't scared of him. You knew you certainly should have been. Now, all you were trying to figure out was what exactly was happening to Leon. Spacing out completely, his words simply merged with your own thoughts, and you began to wonder what other dog features he'd have. You wondered if he was more hairy, if he'd grow claws. You wondered if his personality had changed. You remembered the way he sniffed you when you met...

But to Leon you looked terrified, and it made him panic. Waving his hand in front of your face and taking both of your hands in one of his large ones when that didn't work. Leon has to further stand up and lean over you, face close to yours to get you to snap out of it and focus back onto him again. Seeing you smile back at him shyly, apologising for spacing out has him giving the most over-the-top, faint and relieved smile you've seen. He looks exhausted, as if that little lack of communication aged him a hundred years.

Once your mind is collected, you sigh, addressing him "Leon, I trust you, I believe you, I'm not scared. I'm just... curious, you know?" you chuckle awkwardly, hoping you hadn't offended him, but as you speak to him, he softens, melting at your comforting words. His ears begin to droop and a braindead smile begins to form at his lips as he eyes you dreamily, relieved.

"...Curious?" he whispers, and it doesn't go past you how he cocks his head to the side like a puppy hearing a new noise. His ears prick up a little, his mouth slightly ajar "What's up? What do you want to know?" he mutters eagerly. It's as if he'd never anticipated you being so calm about the situation, and now he was entirely unprepared.

"Well..." You laugh, "Do you feel any... different?" you muse, glancing from his face, entirely enthralled by you, up to his ears which twitch and flap every time your mouth opens.

"V-very..." he mumbles shyly, staring down at the table "L-like I said I can smell really well... and I'm always warm... My hearing is better... T-there's more but like... well... it's... it's personal." he chokes out.

Oh, so it was like that, was it? Interesting... You could tell by his burning red cheeks and avoiding eyes that he wasn't too comfortable, and so, again, you decided to try and reassure him. You quite liked how easy it was to read Leon now. Taking his hands in your suddenly, you delighted in how his ears perked before drooping again as you gently massaged his hands with your thumbs. His eyes almost closed as he swooned before you, leaning back slightly as if about to collapse.

"It's alright, Leon, I trust you, and I believe you. I know you're in there" you giggle, taking a chance at reaching up and gently patting his head softly. To your surprise, Leon melts further before you, leaning forward into your touch as his eyes close and he props himself up with his forearms, still nestling his large hands in your left one subconsciously. He sighs deeply through his nose as he listens to your words "If anyone's got a problem with you at work, they can go through me, alright?"

Leon's eyes flutter open as you withdraw your hand. Smiling at you warmly, he seems thrilled to simply gaze at you. "Thank you, Y/N. It means a lot to me" he whispers, leaving you grateful that he didn't cockily challenge your ability to do as you'd promised. It seemed that whatever had overtaken him had simply decimated his ability to argue with or criticise you.

The rest of the night was spent with the two of you giggling together, discussing what you'd been doing in his absence. Leon told you about the president's daughter. He described the different creatures he fought and survived. He told you how much he'd missed your friendship and how gutted he had been to lose contact with Hunnigan. And he divulged to you how glad he was to be back with you all, his 'pack'.

Completing your walk home, which Leon insisted on accompanying you for (you imagined he was still fearing detachment), he ducked into your home to show you his tail. Awkwardly untucking it from his sweats - soft, fluffy and wagging with a mind of its own. You noted how it stayed firmly between his legs once he first revealed it, matching his flattened ears upon first showing you, but once your face lit up and you reached out to touch it, it began to wag uncontrollably. Like his ears, his tail was golden, sandy and beautiful.

Leon could tell you enjoyed what you could see, or at least that you weren't terrified, and that was enough for him.

Well, you never thought your colleague would magically become... a dog... However, you weren't necessarily against the change, you ponder as you shut the door after him after reminding him to use his umbrella to keep himself dry on the walk home. The question was, did you still crush on him, just as you'd done when he left for Spain?

Yes.

Yes you did.

Over the next few weeks, you bonded more and more with Leon over his new predicament. You'd kept his trust. In fact, he began to confide more in you. He pursued you more often. He walked you home more and told you more about his new life.

...You were sometimes reminded that he could probably smell you, which was uncomfortable, but he was kind enough to stay silent on the matter, and that felt good.

Unexpected by Leon, dog-anatomy or not, he was still regarded as a hero in the office. People treated him well, aside from some comments by jealous newbies, who were often laughed out of the room by Leon's work-mates. Especially you. You were always there for him as he re-adjusted to office life, and as he learned about his new self. That deeper connection is probably what made him hesitate to leave you one evening outside your door.

You could tell what he was thinking.

You didn't want to say goodbye either.

And so, you invited him inside.

OK I HAVE TO APOLOGISE FOR THE BAD WRITING IT'S 3AM I CAN'T LIE MY BRAIN ISNT WORKING SORRY. Thanks for reading this, I'll try and write the smut as quickly as possible. Please bare with :sob: thanks for reading this ily

[martincrushcameback]

LOOK- Varmijet, to me, would be so happy being the most boring guy you'd ever meet with the most boring hobbies that somehow Torty finds totally endearing.

To me, Varmi is the kind of guy who, once he's finally settled with Torty, settles HARD into total boring domestic life. I'm talking dad belly on his skinny body, newspaper, house robe, silly fuzzy dog slippers his wife gave him, morning coffee and toast. I'm talking following the same exact boring routine every single day for the next 50 years.

I'm talking enjoying only the quietest, most introspective, and "old person" hobbies. Bird watching and model train label accuracy levels of mundane. Stamp collecting, paper airplanes, newspaper crossword puzzles, only reading books about 15th century hats or something.

Embracing house husband life because wow he doesn't have to do much to make their lives happy for once and her job is great so he doesn't HAVE to push himself to the extreme all the time. Making his wife breakfast because she is a whirlwind and he burns the eggs every time and every time she eats it anyways and tells him she likes it because they're HIS boring burnt eggs and he will not admit it would crush him if she ever pointed out he burnt them but she knows and she's not a great cook either.

His life sucked until he met her and then they fought because OBVIOUSLY what you do when you're attracted to a person is verbally dis them and cause bodily harm right? That's what his brothers always did??? But like NO she's perfect and soft and passionate and he wants to pull all his hair out and finally she's like ok you know what you're my passion project. And suddenly it wasn't him having to try and figure out How To Flirt And Be A Human Person, now she's just decided they're a couple and they can do couple things and he is massively introverted but she's basically the sun to him an all encompassing and terrifying ball of energy he adores way too much.

And so domestic married life has fixed this pathetic little meow meow of a man. Turns out life is a whole lot simpler when he just wants to chill and pet his weird cat that will not leave him alone and it chews on his slippers and coughs up hairballs on his pillow -never her pillow, how is that fair you little demon?- And he's happy and his wife is happy.

I feel in my heart that he's SUCH A BORING GUY who needs the enrichment of a very introverted and boring life of routines and soft pillows and coffee and crosswords and scrabble. Let the man know too many intricate facts about the history of old war planes that would bore anyone to tears EXCEPT Torty.

He's the guy who only knows how to hype one person: his wife, and nobody else. He will fight you in the pit if you dare look at her the wrong way but also he calls her names and she calls him names and they're allowed to only complain at each other and people think they hate each other and they're like "what gave you that idea i would die for him/her" and like two seconds ago they were threatening to murder each other over spilled coffee and mismatched socks and now she's braiding his hair while he tells her that he thinks "gerbil" is a stupid word.

@ranfordgallus i was having varmi thoughts

Picture him sitting in old-timey pjs with a house robe on and the stupid fuzzy dog slippers and he's eating a bowl of some generic plain oat cereal and he's focusing WAY too hard on the crossword with Zakitty in his lap trying to chew on his sleeve. He calls out to his wife "Torty what's an 8 letter phrase you tell to someone you care about?"

"I LOVE YOU?" She calls back.

He half chokes on his cereal. "TORTY YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THAT-!"

And she comes in and looks at him confused because- "I'm your WIFE??"

This is a daily occurrence.

[2baddiesfanfics]

I'll Catch You When You Fall From Grace

Pairing: Furina x Arlecchino

Tags: Rescue, Rescue Missions, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Possessive Sex, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Hurt/Comfort

Summary:

In the aftermath of Furina's fall from grace as the Hydro Archon, she faces the challenges of adapting to a mundane human life. As she navigates the complexities of being a regular citizen, she learns that with former fame comes potential danger. When she finds herself in trouble, who will be there to answer her call for help?

Read on Ao3

It had been nearly a year since Furina had fallen from grace as archon and began living her life as a normal human. The events of her trial had come and gone, and she was trying her best to adapt to the mundane banality of what it took to make her way in the world not as the God of Hydro, but as plain and simple Furina.

“Lady Furina…”

“Neuvillette, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. It’s just Furina now. There’s no need for formalities. I’m no different than any other citizen of Fontaine.”

“Fine. Furina. You must listen to me. Just because you are no longer archon, it doesn’t mean you can go about your business and throw caution to the wind,” he chastised as he threw down that morning’s copy of The Steambird.

“Have you seen the front page today? I’m doing my best to bring these criminals to justice, but few seem to respect me as much as they once revered you.”

She had indeed heard the rate of petty crime had increased in the wake of her reign. Chalking it up to the growing pains of a nation looking to find its footing once more, Furina didn’t have time to worry about maybes and what-ifs. It wasn’t her fault the only time she could take care of her errands was after the sun went down. In a way, she was still a celebrity and found it awkward and difficult to turn people’s requests for a photo or autograph down.

“I sincerely appreciate your concern, oh great Hydro Sovereign,” she said with a sad smile. “But I need to learn how to navigate my new normal now. I’m tough. I’ve been through so much this past year I’d feel sorry for the sad sap who decided to test me on my weekly grocery run. Please. Take heart. I’ve got this.”

Neuvillette heaved a heavy sigh. “I understand that, Lad-…Furina. But I need you to be about your senses, do you understand me? I cannot always be there to protect you.”

She gave his hand a reassuring pat. “I’ll do my best, friend. Now if you’ll excuse me, macaroni is on sale today and I’d be livid if I got to the food merchants after they closed up shop for the day. Good day.”

Furina exited his office, waving to the few remaining melusines on duty, and promptly realized she had left her wallet at home. Cursing herself, she made her way back to her apartment in the dark, streetlights flickering with a flame that made her heart flutter.

Surprisingly the first person to come visit her after all was said and done was the Knave. Now that she had nothing to hide from Arlecchino, she was no longer frightened by her. What was the worst she could do? The answer, as it turned out, was fall in love. Furina was tired. Tired of the theatrics. Tired of putting on a show. Tired of pretending to be something - someone - she was not.

It had started as nothing more than a one-night stand. The Knave was in Fontaine on business and Furina was lonely. She had come to apologize for how she had treated her without knowing the full story. The former archon was desperate to feel something, anything, and Arlecchino carried herself with such confidence there was no way she could fight the desire to let someone else take control for a change.

Standing in the sparse glow of the window of her apartment, she felt her cheeks warm as she remembered the events of that night. How big her hands were compared to her own. The way she held her with such grace while still vigorously taking what she wanted. The heat of her lips searing into her skin, her teeth marking her possessively.  She swallowed hard as she replayed the events like a film in her head.

And then everything went dark.

Arlecchino sat in her office at the House of the Hearth, a steady throbbing growing in both of her temples. Physical work was fine. She actually relished any chance she got to shadow those who were of interest to the Fatui. What she couldn’t stand was paperwork. So much so it tended to pile up on her desk when she was out doing said physical work.

The scratch of her pen as she signed her name time after time after time was starting to drive her mad. Her hand moved on autopilot, her head elsewhere. How she wished the sound could be replaced by the sweet innocence of Furina’s whimpers caused by her touch. The way she looked at her with those doe-like eyes so trusting and vulnerable. Her mouth moving on hers so eager to learn and please.

The nib of her quill was finally disrupted by the slam of her study doors. The Knave looked up angrily, her eyes burning with irritation. She had specifically requested she not be bothered unless it was a life-or-death situation.

“Lynette…I thought I told you-“ The look on the girl’s face took her aback. She was never one to get overly emotional about, well, anything.

“Father! Lady Furina’s been kidnapped!”

The irritation borne from interruption had evolved into pure rage. “…what?”

“Lyney and Freminet just came back from shopping and said officers were stationed everywhere. They ran into Clorinde and she said they’ve been searching nonstop!”

Snatching her cloak from the rack behind her chair, she rushed out of the office without a word.

————————

Furina could hear the deep whispers of her captors as they discussed plans she couldn’t quite make out. She concentrated on regulating her breathing as she tried to remain calm. Without a vision, she was powerless. Never had she lamented her lost status as archon until now.

The back of her head was tender. One clean hit and she went under. Straining her senses, she tried to determine through sound, smell, and feel where they could have possibly taken her. The distant crash of waves and the salty scent of the sea hinted at the fact she must not be too far from home.

Surely they’ve noticed I’m missing by now…right? Someone…Neuvillette, Clorinde, even Navia…certainly someone must have sensed something wasn’t right.

Immediately she jumped to the conclusion her life was over. Perhaps it was overzealous fanatics who felt betrayed after they discovered the truth about her godhood. Regardless of whatever the situation was, there was no way she was making it out of this alive. And then…her frantic thoughts were interrupted by an earthshattering explosion.

Bloodcurdling screams echoed through what she could only guess was a cave by the ocean. What she heard next made her heart soar.

“Don’t you fucking touch her, you piece of shit!” She’d recognize that voice anywhere. Even after only one night, the unique timbre of Arlecchino’s words shook her to her core. The Knave snatched one of the men by the collar of his shirt.

“Please! Please, no! Have mercy! We only thought we might be able to get some ransom money for her. I swear to the archons we haven’t done anything to her!”

“Shut the FUCK up you useless excuse for a human being,” she spat venomously. “I don’t give a damn what your plan was. Where. Is. She?”

“Just a bit deeper. Keep going, we’re not hiding anyth-“ His answer was cut short as she bashed his head against the wall.

“A-Arlecchino? Is that you?” As hard as she tried to keep her voice steady, she couldn’t stop herself from shaking. “Arlecchino! Please! Help! I’m here! Hurry!”

Swift footfalls thudded against damp stone. The Knave gingerly undid the knot of her blindfold, careful to avoid her injury, and her vision exploded with light. Her tears obscured the face of her savior.

“Furina, it’s alright. I’m here. You’re ok. Nobody’s left,” she explained. Under her breath she muttered, “I made sure of it.”

She tumbled forward into her arms, her tiny, frail body shaking. If the Knave had gripped her any harder, she feared she might break her. “H-h-how? How did you find me?”

Arlecchino let out a wry chuckle. “My dear,” she said as she propped her chin up so she’d look her in the eyes. “I’m a Fatui Harbinger. Do you honestly think anything gets past my network of informants? Now, there will be plenty of time for questions later. Let’s get you home.”

——————

Back at the House of the Hearth, Arlecchino reported to Clorinde the coordinates of the hideout where she had discovered Furina. Closing the door behind her, the sound of the special forces marching off trickled away. The Knave turned to face her.

“Thank you…for saving me,” Furina murmured.

“No need to thank me, Droplet,” she said with a tenderness that surprised the former archon. Arlecchino winced noticeably as she made her way closer. While she was an accomplished and fearsome fighter, her emotions had gotten the better of her this time around and she had suffered a few hits due to the distraction of her search.

“You must let me tend to your injuries,” Furina chastised as she pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit.

“That’s not necessary. Just a few scratches. I’ll have Lyney assist me later.”

Furina pouted, her blue eyes shimmering intensely. “I insist. It’s the least I can do.”

The Knave let out a sigh of “fine” before shedding her coat and doing as she was asked.

The girl tended to the scratch on her face, carefully cleaning the area and placing a small bandage to mitigate any risk of infection. Arlecchino could feel her fingers trembling as her adrenaline was still in overdrive from the earlier encounter. While she’d never take advantage of her vulnerability, the Knave would be lying to herself if she had said she didn’t find her defenselessness arousing.

“Oh, your leg!” Furina pointed to a stain on Arlecchino’s slacks. A light blush colored her cheeks. “Would you mind removing these so I can patch you up?”

The Knave swallowed reluctantly. Allowing someone else to be in command was an entirely new sensation. Her heart pounded in her chest. Unzipping her pants, she slid them down and stepped out of them. The former archon once again treated the area with shaking hands.

Grabbing Furina’s wrist (perhaps a bit too tightly), she calmly stated, “Furina, darling, you’re safe now. Please…try to calm down. I’ve told the police force everything and ensured I…eliminated any immediate threat.”

Arlecchino looked her in the eyes and was perplexed by the emotions she sensed. Wait…this isn’t fear…this is…

Her contemplation was interrupted by a soft pair of lips attacking her own. There was no sign of hesitation in her movements as her mouth collided against hers. “Archons…I want you…so badly Knave…”

Fuck self-control. Arlecchino growled in response as Furina deepened the kiss. Her lips danced clumsily down her neck, the Knave tilting her head to give her clearer access. “Droplet…are you sure?” She asked breathlessly.

Furina moved to straddle her lap. “Yes,” she breathed before crashing into her once more. Sliding her tongue across the Knave’s, her nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons on her shirt.

“Would it kill you to dress a little less, oh I don’t know, fashionable? Too many fucking buttons,” the girl huffed between kisses.

Arlecchino chuckled in response. “My, it’s certainly easy to get you riled up, hmm? Next time I’ll keep the jacket on and make you really work for it.”

Heaving a sigh of relief as she undid the last latch, Furina tossed the shirt aside and trailed her lips to her breasts. She savored the taste of her skin, licking her nipple and then blowing cool air across it to get it to rise.

Her hand slid down Arlecchino’s toned stomach and into her lacy black panties. Tracing her lips, she gathered her arousal on her fingertips and glided them gently across her clit. The Knave bucked her hips in response to Furina’s delicate touch.

“Seems I’m not the only one the adrenaline was getting to,” Furina chuckled as she brought her soaked fingers to her lips and sucked.

Arlecchino moaned in response to the wanton action. What’s gotten into her? Surely she hasn’t had much practice...The thought of anyone else laying a finger on her made her seethe with jealousy. Although they had only been together like this once before, Furina was different this time and it was driving her mad with lust.

She hopped off her lap and dropped to her knees in front of her, slowly spreading her legs to kneel between them. Gingerly kissing the scratch on her thigh, the Knave flinched before she felt her move to do the same on the other. Furina pulled her panties to the side before swirling her tongue on her sensitive bud.

“Ah…Furina!” She stifled herself from letting out an embarrassingly loud moan through gritted teeth.

Pleased with the response, she continued to suck as she slid two fingers into her. Arlecchino bucked against her face in rhythm with her movements. Sliding her hands into Furina’s hair, she pulled her as close as she could. The former archon could feel her contracting against her, pulled out her fingers, and replaced them with her tongue. Grabbing the Knave’s hips, she drew her closer as she darted her tongue in and out of her. With a few more thrusts, the woman crumbled under Furina’s ministrations.

Slick covered her face as she watched Arlecchino breathe heavily. Her gaze snapped back to Furina’s and there was something about the situation that made the girl feel as if she were a rabbit cornered by a starving wolf.

“While that was delightful, you must tell me - where did you learn to do that? Surely you haven’t been using your newfound freedom to go around fucking anything you please?”

Furina was taken aback. “H-how could you think that? I only wanted to thank you for what you did. And for your information - not that it’s any of your business - I haven’t been with anyone since that night…”

Arlecchino relaxed noticeably. Get ahold of yourself, woman. You didn’t have an agreement of exclusivity. She’s an adult and can do what she wants.

A peal of high-pitched laughter echoed through the room. “Oh my archons! Are you…you’re jealous, aren’t you? Oh, that’s rich!” She grabbed her stomach as she tried to stop herself from cackling. “The big, bad Fatui Harbinger is afraid I might have learned a few tricks from someone else, hmm?”

The Knave stood abruptly and gripped her by the neck. “I’ll take that to mean you’re just well-read. Perhaps some new light novels imported from Inazuma? You must have a lot of time to kill now that you’re free.” She forced the girl to walk backward until she was caught between her and the bookshelf in her study.

“Let me make myself clear,” she whispered, deadly serious. “You. Are. Mine.” Wedging her leg between the girl’s thighs, Furina panted heavily. “You say you want to thank me? Then be a good girl and fuck yourself.”

“…w-what?”

“Did I stutter, Ms. Furina? You’ll shove your panties to the side and ride my thigh until you come while I watch. Understood?”

Furina swallowed hard before nodding her head. Lifting her skirt, Arlecchino was rewarded with the sight of sky-blue silk lingerie. She licked her lips hungrily as the girl moved them, a wet line already staining the front and dripping onto her exposed skin.

She’s not fooling anyone. She wants to be wanted. I’m simply giving her what she needs.

“Very good. Now…move,” Arlecchino commanded.

Furina began to rock back and forth against her while keeping eye contact. The steady rhythm she created moved in time with their breathing, connecting them in a way so intimate it made the Knave shutter. It was her turn to feel fear…the fear of ever having to share her with anyone else. Furina was submitting herself, obeying completely. It was like a drug to Arlecchino and she would never be able to live without it again.

The Knave closed the distance between them, capturing her lips. Furina moaned into her mouth as she increased the speed of her hips. The groan the Knave let out betrayed her feelings as she bit her bottom lip.

“Fuck…Knave…are you…happy now?”

“I won’t be happy until I possess you, body and soul,” she replied, her hands now gripping her hips. Arlecchino took over, moving her at a pace she alone controlled. “Didn’t I tell you you’re mine? You’ll come when I say you can.”

Furina whined in frustration. “Please…”

“Please what, Droplet? Ask properly.”

“Please…Father.”

Arlecchino almost forgot to breathe.

“Good girl. Lose control. You have my permission.”

Her hips jerked wildly, bringing her to orgasm fast and furiously. Spent, she collapsed against the Knave. Arlecchino lifted her small body with ease and brought her to the bedroom adjacent to her study. Laying her down on the plush mattress, she covered her with blankets Furina surmised must have cost more than what she personally made in at least a month.

Kissing the top of her head, the Knave stroked her hair as she sat next to her. “You’ve had quite the day. I think it might be best for you to get some rest now.” She was surprised to feel the former archon’s hand reach for hers.

“I think I’d be able to rest better if you’d join me. Am I not yours now?”

An uncharacteristically warm smile graced the woman’s lips. “Touché, Droplet. I suppose I could use some sleep myself. It’s not every day one rescues an archon, after all.”

“Former archon,” Furina corrected her somberly.

Arlecchino looked deeply into her eyes, as blue as the Fontainian ocean. “You’ll always be my archon, Furina.”

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 4/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

                “Taste it. What is it missing?”

                “It’s bland. Needs… some bite. Acid?”

                “Mmm. Good. Now try this.”

                “Yeah. That’s better.”

                “I’m teaching you to taste. Salty. Sweet. Creamy. Acid. Fat. How does it feel in your mouth? Food is about all the senses. You feed them all.”

                “How to do you do that with touch?”

                Leandro tsks with frustration, hand gesturing wildly.

                “You touch with your tongue. Mouth feel, how it feels, that is important. Smooth and silky sauce, or crunchy brittle. From the moment someone arrives their eating experience begins. Understand?”

                “I understand.”

…            …            …           

                Jake has collected the platter of quesadillas he ordered, carrying it over to the table where Bradley is sitting and waiting. There are three different types of filling and there’s no flare to the presentation but the smell wafting from the cardboard tray tells him it’s going to be good. The music and festive atmosphere is nice, makes him feel like part of the community and it’s relaxing not being under the microscope of cameras or set directors. Jake sits beside him on the table corner so the food is between them.

                He doesn’t miss the way that Jake hooks an ankle around his, raising an eyebrow as if to ask if Bradley’s going to do anything about it and he just grins and reaches for one of the smaller cut triangles, presses his leg against Jake’s. Two can play at that game. Then he bites through the crunch of the quesadilla into the soft-melted cheese that makes a little string as he bites a smaller piece off, then there is the accompanying crunch and burst of tanginess of a pepper and he moans appreciatively.

                “Oh my god, this is delicious.”

                “I know right? So good,” Jake says with a grin, and then he dips his segment into what looks like plain ketchup. Bradley has to ask, has to know what the hell he’s doing.

                “Are you… dipping that in ketchup?”

                “Yep.”

                He knows he makes a little distressed sound, because these are good, and the idea that Jake is just overriding the flavor profile with something as mundane as ketchup makes a part of him twitch, but he also has to remind himself it’s not his fucking food and he needs to calm the fuck down. There are other sauces, a salsa verde which goes amazingly well with the cheese and pepper quesadillas, the sour cream with the spicier chicken and tomato quesadillas, then a tomato-based salsa and guacamole to go with the other quesadilla that has ground beef and onion and jalapenos. Everything is so fresh, and perfect and he for sure isn’t going to be putting ketchup on anything but Jake eating whatever he wants is fine.

                It’s fine.

                Because he’s been taught to try everything he even tries a little bit of each one with ketchup, and yeah, it’s plain store bought ketchup and he is baffled as to why anyone would have ketchup over any of the other accompanying sauces but he’s quickly become endeared by it. Well, endeared by Jake. While he’s been taught to try everything, he’s also been taught that eating is meant to be about enjoyment. Jake is clearly enjoying it, his smile easy and relaxed, licking his fingers in a way that isn’t distracting at all, his foot tapping to the music and he’s looking at Bradley like he’d maybe like to dip him in ketchup and eat him. He grins at the thought. He’d let him.

                First though he needs to say thank you to the chef, maybe ask to work in his kitchen for a day at some point, because the salsa verde is maybe the best he’s ever tasted. He picks up the trash and gestures toward the truck where Jake ordered from. Jake is following him, talking and waving greetings to the few people who call out to him and Bradley likes that he’s not the one being singled out here. He slips into Spanish, knows it’s potentially too formal but he’s also very clearly American so the fact he’s even trying goes a long way and he can tell the chef is impressed with the language skills and his questions. He gets an invitation to come and help with prep for a day in exchange for watching the making of the salsa verde and he snaps it up, scribbling his number and name on a napkin and grinning when the other man’s eyes go wide when he reads the name. Bradley just gives him a big grin and thanks him again before turning back to Jake.

                “You speak Spanish?”

                “Sí.”

                “And also Italian, because you were talking in Italian when we met.”

                “Sì. I was. I also speak French and German and Swedish and then I have some Arabic, Mandarin and Japanese. Those are just the languages I feel confident in.”

                “Holy shit. Why so many?”

                Bradley shrugs, because he didn’t really have a reason, and he can’t really write in any of them except the French and Italian.

                “I find languages easy, but I travel a lot for work now, because I speak so many languages. People like having me around.”

                “You’re one of those poly-people… the ones that speak lots of languages.”

                “A polyglot. And yeah, I am.”

                “And here I was thinking my little streak in Duolingo was impressive.”

                “I’m sure it’s very impressive. What language are you learning with Duolingo?”

                “Italian.”

                Bradley’s eyebrows shoot up.

                “Really?”

                “Hmm. Seems I needn’t have bothered…”

                “Oh no, I always appreciate effort. Effort is nearly always more impressive than the end product.”

                “You think so huh?”

                “Mmm. Going to show off some of your Italian?”

                “Was going to show off some of my dancing moves,” Jake says, looking towards where there are people line dancing and Bradley’s mind flashes back to dancing with Jake in the club in Italy, the press of their bodies against each other and he’ll dance with Jake if that’s what he really wants, but he is also more than happy for them to find a bed. Line dancing doesn’t allow him to press himself against Jake’s body the way he wants and he might as well lay his cards on the table.

                “Don’t think I need you show me your dance moves. How about you show me some other type of moves? Vieni a casa con me?”

                Jake blinks at him, and Bradley waits patiently, switching language mid-sentence was maybe a bit mean but he’s liking the little wide-eyed and wild look that’s starting to flicker in Jake’s expression and he steps in close, places his lips close to Jake’s ear and whispers the words again. Vieni a casa con me? Come home with me?

                “Yeah. Yeah come on. Want to talk about being something more than friends…”

                Bradley laughs and lets Jake lead him back to his truck.

…            …            …

                Jake keeps thinking that he should maybe hold back a little, be less demanding, less rough maybe, that holding Leo’s hands above his head while he places biting kisses over Leo’s jaw and throat is simply too much, except that Leo is so eager and responsive, Jake can’t stop himself from giving in and being as toppy as he wants. Still he’s a little surprised when Leo presses a condom into his hand and murmurs want you to fuck me against Jake’s mouth and he can’t tell if it’s a demand or plea. Also he really wants Leo to say it in another language, because apparently that’s a kink Jake didn’t know he had. However he needs to practice more, because at the moment Leo could be reading the phonebook in Italian and Jake would have no clue.

                Having snuck into Leo’s accommodation and somehow avoided everyone else staying there Jake finally has him naked, ridiculously long legs spread so he can kneel between them and Jake is working Leo open with one slick finger, helping hold his legs open with a hand braced on the inside of one of Leo’s thighs.

                “God you’re gorgeous…” Jake says, his gaze caught between where his finger is slipping in and out of Leo’s hole and Leo’s flushed face, half-hidden due to the fact he’s thrown his arm over his eyes, like he either can’t watch Jake; or doesn’t want Jake to see him as he falls apart. The way he jerks against Jake’s hand makes him suspect the latter.

                “Cazzo…”

                “Oh, that’s a swear word. I know that one…” Jake says, and he adds more lube, slides in another finger and watches as Leo bites on his lip and doesn’t seem to breathe for a few seconds before he gasps for air.

                “Jake.”

                “Mmm,” Jake murmurs, because there’s nothing to say, not really. Their fingers and hands and bodies are doing all of the talking right now. He crooks his fingers, can feel the spongy bundle of nerves and feels smug when Leo gasps, his cock jerking against his stomach, the head getting sticky with pre-cum.

                “Don’t fucking tease…” Leo mutters, one of his legs hooking around Jake to try and bring him closer. “Come on. Please.”

                “Patience is a virtue.”

                “I’m not a virtuous man. Hurry the fuck up.”

                He slides a third finger in and almost laughs at Leo’s grown of frustration, his head thumping back onto the mattress and Jake speeds things up a little, his own cock starting to become uncomfortably hard and needing something.

                “Come on, I’m ready.”

                “Yeah, yeah okay…” Jake agrees, because even if he doesn’t completely agree he’s not going to fucking argue the point when Leo so clearly wants him to fuck him and his entire body is hot at the thought of sinking into the clenching heat of him. Leo pulls at him with both hands, dragging him into an absolutely filthy kiss that really hammers home just how ready he is and Jake is totally on board with it all.

                And finally, after Jake has rolled the condom on with unsteady hands, he sinks his cock in slowly, God, so so slowly, starts mentally reciting the pre-flight checks to stop himself from just letting go completely. Lets his hands run over Leo’s body and categorizes tense muscles or discomfit or anything else he can maybe pick up on. Once he’s fully inside of Leo, Jake holds himself very still, bracing himself on his arms as he stares down at Leo, who has his eyes closed, breathing heavily.

                “Leo,” Jake manages, his voice strangled, “Leo, is this –”

                “Good. It’s good,” Leo breathes, shifting slightly, enough that it has Jake biting at his lip to keep control. “Just, ah, give me a moment…” He breathes in and out and Jake watches his chest rise and fall and wonders if he’s imagining feeling his heartbeat around his cock. Then he’s opening his eyes and he’s nodding. “Come on… want to feel it.” Jake is pretty sure that’s a forgone conclusion but he slowly starts to rock in and out, shallow thrusts at first, but as he and Leo move together, the pace begins to pick up until Jake is swearing and sweating as he practically bends Leo in half, pounding into him hard enough to send the headboard of the bed rattling against the wall, the slick noises of their bodies coming together an obscene soundtrack in Jake’s ears, matched by Leo’s slurred voice urging him on. Harder, oh God, Jake, it’s so good, a little harder, please, fuck are the only words he can make out in English, though there are others. It’s sweet and filthy and everything that Jake wants to hear, everything that Jake could want, and he sets his teeth into the muscle of Leo’s shoulder. Leo’s hand grips his ass hard at that, his body clenching tighter around Jake’s cock. He keeps fucking into him with short, sharp thrusts until Leo is gasping and coming apart around him, beneath him, and Jake squeezes his eyes shut and follows soon after in a hazy rush of pleasure.

FIVE

[homelanderbutbig]

His Saint In Plain Clothes (G/T Homelander x Reader)

1987 words. Hurt/comfort and some fluff. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

He big sad and needs a hug in an elevator.

Although you and Homelander have officially been dating for a few weeks, he insists on keeping it a secret from Vought and the public. He is adamant that it is to protect you, claiming that as a non-supe you would be targeted by his enemies. You find it hard to believe that America's hero could possibly have any adversaries, but you see how upset the prospect of you getting hurt makes him, so you decide to play along.

While hiding your relationship is a bit tricky at first, the two of you seem to have gotten into a good rhythm without attracting unwanted attention. During the day at Vought Tower, you sneak in brief hugs and kisses whenever you can get alone with Homelander. Otherwise, you get to spend your evenings together in his penthouse, and he flies you back to your home later at night when the rest of the city is asleep.

As much as you cherish your time with him, Homelander enjoys it tenfold. He has become accustomed to your affections, so much so that your time together is never enough. Almost like an addict, he takes every opportunity to microdose himself on your love during the day when the two of you should be working. He never fails to baffle you when you are abruptly pulled out of the hallway and into a bear hug. You are aware that he knows exactly where you are in the Tower at any given time, as he recognizes your heartbeat. While a normal person would find this obsession creepy, there is a part of you that appreciates his neediness. Never in your life has someone adored you as deeply as he does, like a giddy little puppy trailing behind your feet.

One day, you both have uncharacteristically busy schedules. Homelander is out of the Tower the entire day doing movie shoots and interviews, while you are stuck inside with mounds of paperwork that must be sorted and sent to the appropriate floors. You don't see him at all during the day, even as you travel up and down the Tower levels. It's a bit of a shock, as you keep expecting to be dragged into some empty room by a pair of oversized hands for an impromptu hug, but it just never happens.

Finally, you take a breath of relief as your work day is done. For the last hour you have been compulsively watching the clock, waiting until you can head up to the penthouse. You usually stay behind until everyone else leaves the office, with the charade of being a workaholic. In reality, as part of your discreet routine, Homelander asserts that you ensure none of your co-workers see you taking the elevator up. Considering how nosy you've come to realize Vought employees are, it's probably for the best.

Checking the hallways to make sure the coast is clear, you stroll silently to the elevator. It's funny how something as mundane as an elevator can remind you of him. Every room and doorway in the Vought Tower has very high ceilings, built to accommodate Homelander's height. Having to lift your head up to view the arrow lights above the elevator makes you crack a smile, like how you have to crane up to see Homelander grinning when he stands above you.

Just as the doors begin to close, a large hand slides in between and forces them open. You are momentarily startled by the suddenness, but are pleasantly surprised to see Homelander for the first time since last night. However, you begin to worry you have done something to distress him as he saunters in reservedly with his arms behind his back, expressionless and not even acknowledging your existence. You look up at him, concerned, as the elevator closes and continues its ascent to the penthouse.

"I missed you," you say quietly, not taking your eyes off of him. The tension in the elevator is intensely thick, and you hope that whatever day he had today has not left him in an irritable mood. He has been complaining more and more to you about the pressure he feels with this movie, and you know the expectations placed on him have been very overwhelming.

Homelander still does not look at you as he slowly removes his gloves, tucking them into the elevator's hand railing. As he lowers one big hand down to his side, you take the not-so-subtle hint to reach up and let him feel your graceful fingers entwining with his own. Almost instantaneously upon holding your hand, he lowers his head and sighs heavily, savouring what he was forced to be apart from all day. He can't understand the way you soothe him so fast by simply just touching him, but he knows it's something wonderful.

"I wish I could take you with me," Homelander mumbles, eventually looking down at you. Finally discarding the mask he wears out in public, you see the exhausted expression painted on his face, and the wanting in his eyes. He reflexes his fingers a bit tighter around yours. "I hate this."

"Do you want to pick me up?" you ask, moving in front of him while still holding his hand. You know it's what he wants from you right now, but you've learned how timid he is around you when he displays his vulnerable side. He needs your permission to allow himself comfort, as if upsetting you by taking it forcefully will only isolate him further.

His eyes turn glassy as he gently nods, focused completely on you. Letting go of his hand, you spread your arms out as he bends down to pick you up by the waist. Propping you up with one arm under your thighs and the other along your back, he rests you against his chest to be eye-level with you.

Since you started dating Homelander, you've come to understand how secretive he is about himself. He prefers to keep the inner workings of his mind hidden to everyone but himself, even if it is to his detriment not to express these thoughts. However, the one thing he's let slip is how much he hates looking down at you. He's gotten used to having to look down at everyone around him, further proving his inner voice correct that he is a god to these vermin. But you are different, you see him for who he truly is. Out of everyone he's ever encountered, you are the only one worthy to see him at his level. In his own strange way, you know this is meant to be a compliment.

"I'm sorry today was so difficult," you console him, stroking his cheek with your hand. Homelander greedily nuzzles into your palm, taking in your touches like a parched man lost in the desert.

"If our relationship was public, I could come with you," you mention, knowing you are treading choppy waters even bringing this up. This is a topic he has been determined to avoid, but you hate seeing him so depressed.

"I'm not… I'm not going to put you in danger," he stammers, nudging deeper into your hand. He closes his eyes when he can no longer stop his tears from falling. "I-I can't lose you… I can't."

You feel Homelander start to unravel, nearly hyperventilating as he gives into his anxieties. He lifts your body up for a proper hug, and you wrap your arms around his neck as he rests his head on your shoulder. You can feel the restraint vibrating through his hands as he grasps you, resisting his full strength for this delicate embrace. If he were to ever accidentally hurt you, you know it would kill him.

"Shh, shh…" you soothe him, scratching the back of his head with your nails. "It's okay, baby boy. I got you. I'm here, I'm not going anywhere."

You feel Homelander nodding as he attempts to regulate his breathing, combing his large fingers through your hair. Even on the brink of a mental breakdown, just feeling you near him is enough to seal any cracks formed on his imagined dam wall, so close to bursting.

More than anything he wishes he could bring you out with him in public, but he is so afraid. You aren't a supe, you can't protect yourself. If you were away from him and got hurt, or worse died, he would lose control. He would burn the city, nay the world, to ashes for daring to take you away from him. You are the only person who has ever truly cared for him, his saint in plain clothes.

The elevator dings as it reaches Homelander's penthouse, and the doors slide open. Still hugging you with one arm, he nonchalantly grabs his gloves from the railing and walks into the penthouse's living room. He drops his gloves on the coffee table and lies down on the couch with his immense arms still enveloping you, refusing to break from your embrace. For the most part he's calmed down, self-soothing by feeling you under his fingers, though you still hear him sniffling and feel the wetness of his tears.

You know the only way to avoid circumstances where Homelander becomes too distraught is to give him a break from it all, to be alone with you. And as long as he keeps rejecting the idea of going public, you know situations like this will keep occurring. You try and think of another way to be close to him, and astonishingly you have a brilliant idea.

"You know…" you begin, pausing to make sure you have Homelander's full attention. "You don't have a personal assistant right now, do you? Since you fired the last one?"

He relents his iron grip on you to let you sit up slightly, getting a better view of your face. You can tell his mind is still a bit clouded from his emotions as he shakes his head, not fully understanding why you're asking him this.  

"If you told Ashley that you wanted a new assistant, I could apply for the position," you suggest, wiping away his tears. "That way, I could always be by your side, wherever you go."

"Re…really?" he asks, reaching up to touch your cheek, almost as if to assure himself that you are real.

"You'd better be careful though," you declare, grinning as you take hold of his hand. "Once I'm your assistant, you'll never be able to get rid of me."

Homelander can't stop himself from smiling at your playful words, revealing his fangs that would otherwise terrify anybody else. He remembers his life before you, how he let himself be guided by his anger towards the world, and treasures how easily you can bring him back down when he's spiralling.

"I… I love you," he whispers as he brings you closer for a kiss. Your lips are a lot smaller than his, but you kiss with such love that it doesn't even register to him. Running your fingers along his undercut, you hear him whine as you scratch just the right spot, feeling him become more placid as the last of his worries leave his body.

The two of you lie like that the rest of the night, content in the serenity of each other's company. You aren't even aware of how much time has passed until you realize Homelander has fallen asleep, totally drained from his gruelling day. In any other scenario, you would've woken him up to fly you back home, but tonight you know how much he needs to be with you.

"Goodnight sweetheart," you kiss him on the forehead as you lie back down. Nestling yourself in between his chest and arm, you start to feel yourself doze off. Tomorrow is another day to worry about being seen in his penthouse, right now you take solace knowing things between you two will only get better.

[experimentfae]

Valentine day special

Hazbin hotel x reader

Oneshot / fluff

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Today is the holiday most people love it some hate it or some just don’t care for it plain and simple. Hell you didn’t even think you were going to get anything this holiday.

You were used to wallowing into romance movies and chocolate by yourself but turns out fate had other plans for you, pleasantly surprising plans.

You heard a knock on a door “(y/n) it’s me Charlie I wanted to let you know that you got a package.” This made you raise your brow “I didn’t buy anything.” You got up and opened the door to see Charlie holding your package for you.

“Are you sure it has this address and it says for (y/n).” She then gasped “maybe it’s a secret admirer!” She smiled which made you laughed at the thought “Me getting a valentine?! Ha no way, as to be some prank.” “Who would do that?” Charlie questioned the only demons you could think who would do this is alastor or Angel to fuck around with you.

“I have two demons in mind.” She then shrugged her shoulders “oh but speaking of valentines gifts, this is yours.” She handed you a little heart box that filled with chocolate no doubt “thanks Charlie.” Smiled back “it’s from me and vaggie, we are heading out for a romantic dinner non of you wait up on us.” You nodded “have a good time you two.” “Thanks (y/n) have a great valentine day as well.”

She walked away then you said to yourself “as if I could get a nice one, most of them are mundane for me.” “Wow that sucks.” This made you jump to see Angel dust “Angel you gotta warn a demon when you do that.” This only made him laugh “but it’s funny as hell and besides, what you got there hun.” Huh, ‘hun’ that’s new “I’m not sure I think someone’s messing with me, it’s not you Is it?”

“Nope.” hmmm “are you lying?” This confused him “why the fuck would I need to lie about that?” Actually that’s a good point “fair, alright let’s find out I guess.” You knew he wanted to see so you let the door open knowing he let himself in.

“Hmm gotta clean in here.” You rolled your eyes “I’ll do it later not like anyone else is coming here or Niffty does it.” You opened the box to see a Vox tech item? “Voxtech?” This surprised him as well “weird it’s a Valentine’s Day special one.” That’s true the tech was pink, red and hints of blue on them I instead of the usual black and blue.

Then you noticed that there is a love potion a collaboration between Valentino and Velvette, Angel seemed to notice two and got a angry look on his face “I can’t believe these motherfuckers.” he growled out.

“What do you mean?” You asked he huffed out “just don’t go near them ok?” You nodded your head immediately you’re not gonna question Angel he would know more than anyone how these guys work. “Wait does that- just then alastor interrupted you two by knocking on the open door.

“I know open but I- he stopped himself when he saw the Vox tech in the box “darling I didn’t take you for having poor taste in entertainment.” This made you laugh “naw someone gifted this to me, I thought it was you or Angel but YOU buying Vox tech is impossible even if it is to mess with someone, also the love potion.

Just then alastor halted at the box then he snapped his fingers and the box was gone you assumed he threw it in the garbage “here’s a REAL valentines gift.” Alastor boasted as he brought out flowers and a Heart shaped box but instead of chocolate you saw it was meat a giant meant shaped like a heart.

“Wow thanks alastor I’m surprised you got anyone anything but, did you get that from the cannibal colony?” One thing you knew about yourself is that you’re not a cannibal but alastor was a different story “why yes it is this one meat was a sinner named frank.” This both made you and Angel dust give him a wtf look.

“Um I appreciate the flowers but I think you’ll enjoy the meat more then a I do.” He seems to remember that I’m not a cannibal “right I forgot you don’t enjoy demon meat I’ll give you something else then.” He snapped his fingers again and instead there is a mug with a cheesy valentine dad joke.

“That’s sweet thanks.” You took the flower and mug.” He smiled wider “then Angel interrupted yeah, yeah, here’s your thing hun.” He handed you a pink mouth gag and a pink whip “I… what.” He smirked “well come on you gotta admit it’s perfect for this holiday.” He gave a wink, You continued to look confused while alastor look disgusted.

“Um thank you Angel.” You smiled nervously you put both of their valentines gifts away. “Yep and happy valentine times day.” He smiled and looked back at his phone walking away “happy v-day as well Angel.” “Happy Valentine’s Day my dear.” Spoke alastor “you as well alastor.” You smiled as he left to do whatever he does in his spare time.

You were surprised that anyone thought to get you anything especially alastor what was his end game and you couldn’t but your finger around why Vox, Valentino and velvet would sent you anything never had a conversation with them.

You went out of your room and went into the kitchen planning to get a snack. Maybe some cookies you saw in a jar but before you could grab the treat you felt someone poke your shoulder. You looked over to see sir pentious seeming to be nervous.

“I I umm g… just take it! goodbye!” He slithers away in a hurry “wait sir pentious?!” You looked to see a red box with a black bow “again? How?” You opened to see a projector “wow this is the best one actually, too bad I probably won’t be able to thank him properly.” You looked to see a card with it as well inside, you saw it was a poem painfully romantic one.

“Sir pentious has a thing for me?!” You questioned yourself “wow I what am I gonna- just then a text from your phone interrupted you. You looked to see you got invited to a group chat called 3V, you immediately knew who it was it’s not a hard guess.

You joined just to see why they sent that stuff Velvette:[did you like your gift cutie?] You:[why did you guys give me those?] Val:[Why not baby? Your too hot to not be spoiled] Vox:[exactly, but hoe you loving your new tech?] You:[tbh I firing get to try any of your guys stuff alastor threw them out] Vox:[fucking knew that radioshit would do that know worry I’ll get you another] Val:[no worry baby I’ll get you sex toys this time you’ll able to do more with that] You:[no worry I’ll be fine without those stuff got a working phone already and I don’t want that sex stuff to be honest] Velvette:[at least can I get a trending outfit for you?] You:[alright that seems pretty good thx and happy Valentine’s Day<3]

They also texted you happy Valentine’s Day and you went back to getting your cookie you carried your gift and cookie to the bar, to talk to husk. “Husk there you are, how are you?” He looked towards you “meh as usual.” “Yeah that’s how I felt when I woke up until everyone started to give me gifts, which is weird.”

He looked to see the box you’re holding “guess so but speaking of Valentine’s Day gifts here ya go.” He handed you a gift too?! You took the bag to see it was a favorite color wine glass “wow husk this is nice, you going soft on me?” He glared at you “no just doing what you’re supposed to do for the holiday or whatever.” He blushed looking away “yeah sure.” You smirked.

“I feel like a jerk tho I got nobody anything but everyone got me something.” You stated he shrugged his shoulders “it’s fine what I really want is alone time.” He replied with very little card but your own words gave you an idea.

“I’ll be right back!” You ran back to your room got your wallet, phone and keys and left before husk can say anything back.

3 hours later

You thankfully found gifts for everyone that was in my our budget as well felt like a miracle except for the 3Vs you’re pretty sure they got everything they need, especially Val your not even gonna try for that guy.

You brought each of the gifts to everyone, they all loved it, funny a holiday you never cared for became the same holiday that made you realize how important you are to everyone and how important they are too you as well.

Happy Valentine’s Day <3

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