#with some kind of bright red point of interest

[foreverephemeral-art]

rare non-fandom oc content!

This is Clemente, an easy-going artist from renaissance era Italy who also kind of accidentally wound up involved with a literal devil

[boobearymuch]

Their Favorite Underwear (On You) —♡ LADS Headcanons

—♡Summary: They certainly have interesting preferences, that's for sure. —♡Tags: NSFW, suggestive, sex implied, afab!reader, no pronouns used, fingering, panty sniffing/licking —♡A/N: done staring at this I'm throwing it out into the wild —♡ masterlist

—♡ Caleb

Caleb’s favorite pair of underwear on you is somewhat an innocent pick. A worn out pair of cotton panties you’ve had since high school. 

They have some kind of pattern—either horizontal stripes, flowers, a repeating print of the cookie monster—doesn’t matter, he loves it all. 

They remind him of simpler times—laundry day when you were younger—and how they’d get caught up in his own load by accident. You’d flush bright red when he stopped by your door to drop them off, but he’d just throw his head back with a laugh and tell you it's fine.

He’s never told you how close he came to pocketing them instead.

In the present, he’s found himself on laundry duty again. The colonel is dumping your basket of dirty clothes into the washer when a familiar pair of cotton panties fall in. 

He doesn’t even bother looking around; Caleb reaches for them, breath hitching when he realizes they’re the same pair from before. He can’t believe you still have them. You really ought to buy some new clothes…

Something dark—hot—coils in his belly when he turns the gusset inside out and lifts the fabric to his trembling lips. 

It smells divine—a little on the tangy side, but he’ll make sure you drink more water from here on out. 

Then his tongue finally laps at the inner lining, and Caleb’s eyes practically roll into the back of his head. 

His hips jerk against the washing machine just thinking about sinking his tongue into your actual—

Your voice abruptly floats down the hall, some question he can barely hear, and Caleb tells you he’ll be right there.

Perhaps he will pocket these for later, after all…

—♡ Xavier

Xavier’s favorite pair of underwear on you…is actually his own.

His boxer briefs are basically yours at this point. 

When you sleep over and need a change of clothes, he just lets you borrow his; which is how you end up in an oversized shirt and boxer briefs in the first place.

Seeing you in his clothes is a thrill of its own, but seeing you in his underwear?

It’s an entirely new level of intimacy that has his ears burning red and his slow heart skipping a beat.

You wouldn’t wear just anyone’s underwear to bed, you’re wearing his.

He gets oddly clingy when you do, sliding in behind you in bed and nuzzling your shoulder as you scroll through your phone. 

You make some comment about a post you saw, but he’s hardly listening. Instead, his hand is sliding down your hip, stroking the fabric of his underwear and the heat of your skin. It brings a soft smile to his lips.

Xavier can’t help but think the slit of his boxer briefs is silly on you, sliding his fingers inside to gently stroke your pubes. It’s usually innocent, he just likes the texture.

But the hitch of your breath darkens his gaze, and Xavier gently coaxes you to continue scrolling as his hand sinks lower…

He hums in response to your little moan, fingers curling up into your slick heat. His other hand reaches around to take the phone out of your faltering grip and slams it against the nightstand. 

Xavier’s selfish, he admits—he doesn’t want you distracted by anything else while you’re wearing his clothes, his underwear…

You need to borrow another pair of boxer briefs by the time he’s done with you.

—♡ Zayne

Zayne’s favorite pair of underwear on you is not one you expected—thongs. He’s secretly crazy for them. Well, that might be an overstatement—but he enjoys the sight of you in them very much.

You’re surprised to learn about Zayne’s preference, though he doesn’t readily disclose it at first. You have to feign trouble picking between two sets of underwear first, and shove your phone into his face for an opinion. 

“...The one on the right.” The cool response is only betrayed by a fervent blush on his cheeks.

He likes slipping his fingers under the thin string, teasing and tugging. It leaves very little to the imagination; straight to the point.

Your order comes in, and Zayne secretly watches you slide them up your legs as you both get ready for a banquet. It’s all his mind keeps wandering back to throughout the night. 

Not only are you wearing underwear he picked out, but you’re wearing them to mingle with his colleagues. A rather distracting thought, isn’t it?

At one point during the night, you bend over to grab something, and the lack of a panty line reminds Zayne all over again what you’re sporting underneath.

He approaches calmly, interrupting a conversation with his colleagues by wrapping an arm around your waist. 

His excuse to leave early is well thought out—you suspect he’s had it in mind since arriving—but you’re barely listening when his hand wanders low.

It slides down your backside, and he absently thumbs the string of your thong through the fabric of your dress. 

…The car ride home is a short one, to say the least.

—♡ Sylus

If you asked Sylus, he’d say he prefers you in no underwear at all. 

But, if he had to choose, he’s rather fond of a simple red lace. Comfortable, practical, sexy. 

Not to mention, red is absolutely your color. The fact that it’s his too is merely a…happy coincidence. 

When he’s stocking up your closet in the N109 zone, Sylus makes sure to order only the best luxury brands exclusively in various shades of red.

The idea of you sauntering around base in his color is enough to make him purr at the sight of you, even when your underwear isn’t visible.

He makes a game out of guessing what pair you have on; is it the scarlet one with bows? Or perhaps the strappy maroon? 

Sylus finds out at dinner; you’re laughing at some ridiculous story when you uncross your legs, and there’s a flash of vermilion underneath your skirt. 

The one with heart cutouts? My my, you only wear that one when you want something…

His eyes roam you up and down as you continue your story, but you stumble over your words when a swirling red mist drags your chair closer to his.

You were quite bold for wearing such a bright color in public, and if anyone other than him was to catch sight of it…

Well, we can’t have that, can we?

Your breath hitches when his hand roams your thigh, smug eyes never leaving yours. His calloused fingers ghost the hem of your skirt, and your words trail off in anticipation of what’s to come next.

Sylus grips the fabric and tugs your skirt…down. 

Your face burns as he leans back with a chuckle, “You were saying?

—♡ Rafayel

Rafayel’s favorite pair of underwear? Brazilian panties, next question.

They sit high above your hip bones while accentuating the curve of your tummy; absolutely divine.

Of course, you look divine in everything; hell, you’d look perfect in only a seashell to cover your modesty. But something about the aesthetic of these panties, specifically, gets him insanely hot and bothered.

He brings you back gifts from his trip overseas, but he flushes and fervently denies having anything to do with the three pairs of panties tucked behind the body lotions and skincare.

Rafayel quickly changes his tune when you suggest modelling them for him, though.

That’s how you end up changing into them right then and there, a minty lace pair with a little satin rose sewn to the front. You rejoin Rafayel, who’s been waiting patiently on his bed.

Rafayel can’t speak, only tugs the back of your thigh closer as he swallows thickly. 

Your pubes peek out the sides due to the nature of the design, and you make an offhand comment about shaving the next time you wear them. Rafayel immediately shakes his head—as if offended—and grips the sides of your hips, thumbs hiking the side wings further up. 

He flushes, and his nostrils flare right before he lowers his head to lick a stripe up your lace front.

His tongue burns through the fabric, and the Lemurian lets out a shuddering breath against your stomach. You barely register the chill down your spine when he licks you again, this time his teeth catching on the waistband.

You never get to try the other two pairs on for him…

[fgumi]

⋆˙⟡♡ CHALANT

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!jaehyun x reader, GENRE; fluff, uni!au, headcanon, WC; 2.1k, WARNING(S); mildly suggestive, A/N; oh to be loved by chalant myung jaehyun. TAGS; @onedoornet @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @prettyange1 @bee-the-loser @pumpkg @lucky-wy @leehanwish}

chalant!myungjae has never been shy about his crush on you. hell, he made it a public affair. anyone and everyone knew about it, including you. you didn’t really know what to think. this good-looking guy was openly proclaiming that he’s interested in you. it sounded like a trap, something that’d hurt you. at first, it was just words. people that knew you both would comment.

“did you know myung jaehyun likes you?” “can you tell your boyfriend to shut up about you?”

he’s not my boyfriend, you’d reply. you started feeling bad for these people at some point. here’s this guy that you knew next to nothing about and he’s talking people’s ears off about how he’s so in love with you. what is he so in love with? he’s never even talked to you. when it was people that you mutually knew, you didn’t think much of it. but then, there were strangers coming up to you.

“uh, are you y/n?” yes. “this dude, jaehyun, is like really into you. he would not stop talking about you at the party.”

so i’ve heard, you’d say. how is this guy telling everyone but you? you started getting annoyed, so annoyed that you finally confronted him. you tried to avoid when he was with his friends, not wanting to embarrass the guy further, but he was always with someone. so, one day, when you spotted him in the library, you decided that enough was enough. you marched right up to his table. what about me are you so in love with? you asked.

if anyone else said that and others overheard, they’d think you were crazy and narcissistic. but, because it was you, no one batted an eye. actually, they all leaned closer, hoping that this was the day jaehyun would finally shut up about you. jaehyun’s face went from shocked to goofy. he had this lopsided grin when he started.

“what’s there not to love? you’re insanely smart—i’ve seen the way you lead discussion sections. you’re really kind—you helped all those freshmen pass genetics even though you were clearly stressed about your stuff. you’re very particular about your drinks, but not in a rude way—i hear you apologizing to baristas about how specific your order is and then you leave a big fat tip. you love the sun. i always catch you sunbathing in the quad around 2pm after class—i swear i’m not stalking you! i just have a class in the quad. you’re funny—the side-eyes you give the people saying the dumbest things make me giggle. you—” you get it.

gosh, if only you could hide further into your hoodie. your face was bright red. all his friends were giving you exasperated looks, as if to say “please go out with him so he’ll finally shut up.” you didn’t realize you ran into him that much. you were constantly stressed, rushing to class, that people were just blurred faces to you. you barely managed to make eye contact with jaehyun and then you saw. he looked at you like you held the answer to all his prayers.

“if i take you on a date, will you stop bothering people about how you’re so in love with me?” you muttered. then, this guy has the gawl to shake his head. “absolutely not. but! i’ll shut up for a day.”

his friends nodded rapidly, begging you with their whole bodies to do it. a day was better than anything, they supposed. so, you asked him out. jaehyun’s grin couldn’t get any wider.

chalant!myungjae stayed true to his word and never shut up about you after that one (blissful) day. just like before, he talked about you with anyone that’d give him the time, even your professors. because you were in the same major, you and jaehyun had the same classes, just not the same section (much to jaehyun’s dismay). so, he’d hang back a few until you arrived so he could give you his notes.

“it’s a preview! so you don’t have to rush to catch everything.”

in those few minutes that you take to arrive, jaehyun’s talking to your professor.

“you should totally make my girlfriend, y/n, your ta! she’s always the top scorer and is helping out other people anyways!” “this is us on our second date. look at how pretty she is! i think she’s the love of my life.” “do you think you could transfer me into this section so i could be with her?” no, they’d say exhaustedly.

if your professors were at all bitter, they would’ve hated you. having to hear about you so much was tiring. but, they all appreciated love when they saw it—or, in this case, heard it. though they didn’t let it show too much, they did tend to favor you after hearing how much you enjoyed the class and helped others. you were certainly helping their ratemyprofessor scores.

chalant!myungjae was a confident person. but, he was never more confident than the times he could acceptably brag that he was your boyfriend.

you took part in dancing as an extracurricular, something that helped college be a little more bearable. because of this, you had performances and recitals. these were college events that jaehyun could finally look forward to.

he always came early just so he could grab a front seat. he was always the loudest, cheering you on whenever you were on stage. when he felt like he wasn’t loud enough, he forced his friends to come along. at one point, he made t-shirts for all of them to wear. we’re here with y/n’s boyfriend. of course, he wore his own shirt. y/n’s boyfriend on the back and the cutest (you didn’t find it all that cute) picture he had of you adorning the front. he was very very proud to be your boyfriend. and, of course, he needed to get you the world’s biggest bouquet every time. you told him that he didn’t need to get you such expensive flowers every time, but he shook his head.

“these aren’t expensive compared to what i really wanted to get you.”

later, you found out that he wanted to get you a thousand lilies of the valleys, your favorite. every time. you scolded him about it, saying how you were broke college students and couldn’t afford things like that.

to that, he said, “yet.”

chalant!myungjae didn’t care for possessing things, you included (because women aren’t possessions, he said), but, man, did he love being possessed by you. anything he could get to let people know he was yours, he’d have. his lockscreen? you. his desktop picture? you. he even had one of those photocard holders attached to his backpack with a polaroid of you. he had half the mind to get the big photocard holders, but he didn’t think you’d like that (you told him that was embarrassing). it didn’t stop at just pictures, though. he even bought himself a necklace with your last name attached. you asked him why he didn’t get your first name or even a necklace for you with his name.

“i want to take your last name! and i didn’t want to buy you something like that without your explicit permission.”

you just sighed adoringly. shouldn’t he have asked your permission for his necklace then?

chalant!myungjae wasn’t just all for show. he also did things that were less noticeable—like having a hair tie around his wrist at all times. you always managed to lose yours and were put out whenever you couldn’t put your hair up. when he saw your cute little pout, he vowed to always make sure you had a hair tie available to you whenever you were together (even if he loved your pout).

another thing he did was carry around a second hoodie—for himself, of course. sure, it made his backpack bulky, but you were worth it. there were days that you’d think the weather was going to be a mild temperature or the buildings weren’t going to blast the ac, so you’d opt out of bringing a sweater. but, when you sadly realized that it was freezing, he’d hand you his hoodie—the one that he was already wearing. you mentioned in passing how much you liked wearing his clothes, but only when they smelled like him, so he always gave you whatever he was wearing at the time and put the second hoodie on (that way you couldn’t say no with the reason that he’d be cold).

chalant!myungjae was always respectful towards women. his mother raised him right after all. there were times though when he wasn’t. like, when he’s getting hit on. you never said anything, never showed an ounce of insecurity. but, he made it his mission to get these girls away from him.

on your late-night outings, both of you dressed up. you looked good. you were bound to attract attention. but, one thing you told jaehyun from the start was that you wouldn’t subject your friends to feeling like they were with a couple when you went out. so, he let you do your thing while he did his. you guys always danced in the club near each other. that’s why you were privy to seeing him turn people away. in an odd fashion.

there were times he’d bark at them. there were times he’d act like he batted for the other team. there were times he’d point at you and show them that he was a taken man. but, the one time this girl didn’t catch the hints—the necklace, the photocard, his lockscreen, his blatant denial—everyone was in for a show.

“your girlfriend doesn’t have to know,” the girl purred, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. you see this happening out of the corner of your eye. you just said a silent prayer for her because you knew jaehyun was about to embarrass her. what you didn’t know was how.

he scoffed. “i tell her everything, even my poop schedule. she’ll know.”

the girl didn’t back off. “well, i don’t see her. she left you here all alone with me. can’t i just have you for the night?”

she’s persistent, you’ll give her that. that’s when you feel someone pull you away from your friends. you’re spun around and a kiss was planted on your lips. your eyes widened before you realized it was jaehyun. you let yourself enjoy the kiss, thinking it was going to be short. but it wasn’t. it was one of the most mind-blowing kisses jaehyun has ever given you. if you were sobering up, jaehyun’s kiss pulled you right back into a haze. he cradled your neck, kissing you deeper, as his other hand pulled you closer. even when the girl finally got the hint and left, he didn’t let you go. if anything, he seemed to take it as his cue to continue. when you heard your friends cheering you on, you let this be the exception to your one rule. when you finally pulled away for air, a string of saliva followed you. you just blinked at him while he had this goofy grin on his face.

“sorry, i had to show her who my girlfriend was.”

safe to say, he didn’t let you go for the rest of the night and you didn’t mind one bit.

chalant!myungjae didn’t really post on his social media. sure, he was active on it, liking his friends’ posts and yours (obviously). he became really active on it once you started dating. jaehyun skipped the soft launch and went straight into the hard launch. every story he posted, his friends could bet that it was going to be you with some corny caption about how much he loved you or how lucky he was. when he did post, they’d just be photo dumps from moments with you. at this point, his account became a y/n fan account. if anyone were to stalk him, trying to see if he was taken or not, they’d know immediately. in his bio, he had your user. his pinned post was your first anniversary date, where you looked absolutely stunning. his profile picture? it was the two of you.

oh, and was he in your comments.

first! i would’ve built rome in a day for you had to pick my jaw off the ground i won’t you. bad. i’m framing this something’s wet and i move my phone to my left hand…

ya... he was getting creative with his comments.

chalant!myungjae makes sure that you know, and the world knows, how much he loves you. he’ll never let a single doubt enter your mind about how he feels about you. you are his girl and he is very much your boy.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

[drowning-rabbit]

marked up: spencer reid x artist!reader (spencer and the team)

part two of a drawn-out lullaby, based on my artist headcanons here. but each can be read separately! requested by @bookishnerd1132

word count: 1k

summary: spencer arrives late to work on the return from the holidays, leading to an interesting conversation with the BAU. fluff, suggestive

the first thing the team had noticed was the energy shift when spencer walked into the bullpen two minutes late. this was an odd occurrence for the man who stuck to his routine conscientiously. he hated being late, and it had only happened once so far in his career with the BAU. derek morgan had worsened the blow that day by slapping spencer’s back and making a joke about a late night. spencer, of course, choked and flushed bright red. then, he shut down immediately and remained closed off from embarrassment for most of the day. his explanation of why he came in late would never suffice to derek, who was convinced his favorite pretty boy had found a late night escapade. by the end of the day, even penelope was asking if he had found a special friend. so after the first time, spencer set his alarm half an hour earlier to guarantee it would never happen again. and it hadn’t, until today.

the second thing they had noticed was that he did not seem bothered by his untimely arrival. the first time he was late, he glanced nervously at gideon’s office as if he was waiting for a scolding about a few measly minutes. they remembered words spilling from his lips as soon as he rushed through the door, apologies and explanations tangling together in a flurry as he flung his messenger back onto the back of his chair.

this morning, three days after the holiday, spencer strolled in late like it was his daily routine. he looked well-rested, unusually so. he was not plagued by the usual nervous energy that surrounded him. instead, he almost seemed giddy.

when he made it to his chair and set down a light yellow travel mug on his desk, derek morgan immediately invaded his area of the office.

“reid.” he said shortly, eyeing the other man with calculated suspicion.

“morgan?” spencer questioned, and derek was already profiling. clearly flushed cheeks, a slight glow to the skin. he was also sporting slightly unkempt hair - and peeking out behind the collar of his shirt was some kind of black ink.

“what’s going on with your neck?” he pointed to the back of spencer’s plaid button-up.

“my neck?” spencer instinctively brought his hand up to the back of his head, feeling around for a bug or a stray hair. there was nothing. when he realized what derek was talking about, he blanched completely.

spencer had woken up completely rested, although late, this morning after another night of your doodles on his back. the marker had indeed done its job in lulling him to sleep. in his rush to make it to the bullpen on time, he had forgotten to wash it off of his skin.

“what about my neck?” he squeaked out in a half attempt at feigning disinterest.

“you look like you’ve seen a ghost, pretty boy. you must know what i’m talking about.” derek teased relentlessly. spencer decided to stall.

“actually, the lack of blood flow to the skin is a nervous system response called pallor and it can result from many things like anemia, poor nutrition, frostbite-“ derek placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, making him pause.

“the ink, genius. you got a back tattoo over the holiday?”

“no! i - well, yes. um… sure?” spencer choked out. he hadn't told the team about you yet. not that he didn't want to, it just never came up.

“oh, penelope, baby girl you have got to see this!” derek headed towards penelope’s office, practically skipping. it would have been hilarious if it wasn’t at his own expense. at the commotion, jj and elle headed over to his desk to participate.

"a back tattoo? i never would have thought you would go for that, reid," elle commented, leaning towards him slightly. he rolled his chair back, standing up suddenly.

"its not! tattoos are extremely painful and require extensive research and my skin is sensitive. its- my partner, okay? they’re.. an artist. its - i, this is highly unprofessional! i'm making coffee," spencer sputtered, turning on his heel.

"partner? you?" derek froze in place. him and penelope had arrived at the perfect time to see spencer raise his arms to comb through his hair in exasperation. as he did, his shirt rose slightly. at the bottom of his back lay an expanse of red marks, accompanied by a small cursive word.

penelope squealed loudly, causing spencer to drop his arms and scurry off to the break room.

she was practically bouncing on her heels. "his back said mine, derek!"

"is anyone going to mention he already has coffee?" jj added.

"and that is not his mug."

[leth-writes]

cocoa

Summary: You've been dating Tim for a while, and it's time to meet his family.

Yandere Tim x reader and yandere platonic batfam x reader

Warnings: While my blog is 18+, this piece doesn't contain any explicit material. Normal yandere warnings apply.

It all started when you met Tim Drake for the first time. You were a lowly worker at the Wayne’s company, just a simple personal assistant, but for the first time ever you’d been asked to go directly to the highest floor and deliver some paperwork to Tim directly. He looked different in real life, paler and sicker looking than you’d expected, with bright luminous eyes that seemed to never blink, staring directly into your soul like he knew every secret. He seemed only half-conscious, nodding off where he sat behind his massive desk, though he seemed to snap to attention when you brushed your fingers along his accidentally when handing over the folder. He seemed to focus entirely on your hands, completely zoning in on them, as you stood there awkwardly. Finally, you cleared your throat and turned to leave. He didn’t try to stop you, though he did seem upset judging by the glimpse you caught of him through the glass of the door.

From that moment on, it seemed your entire job was to give Tim paperwork, to the point that all other duties completely dried up. Whenever you weren’t able to give him anything, he started requesting you stay in the room, just in case. So, you started spending hours on end just reading in his office. The two of you gradually grew closer, and you discovered he had a dry sort of sarcastic wit that you hadn’t ever heard about. You began to discover the man behind the intimidating silhouette painted by the media, learning he was kinda dorky and enjoyed photographing nightlife. He even showed you some of his photos, which were of course stunning; he seemed to see Gotham in a way you never had, pulling out its gloomy beauty where most would only see the smog and the crime. Tim seemed to appreciate your almost naive perspective, enjoying the kindhearted way you reminded him of the good in humanity. When he got too cynical, you were able to convince him to give others the benefit of the doubt. It was almost cute, he thought, the way you never seemed to truly understand the kinds of personalities making up most of Gotham’s business scene.

You even served as his very own assistant when he broke a leg in a hiking incident, which apparently happened during a family camping trip. You hadn’t even known he could hike, though you assumed he wasn’t very good. Still, he spent ages just showing you pictures of the wildlife he’d seen, knowing you loved his photos. The tedious task of painstakingly searching his photo archives for pictures of cute animals was worth it, just to see your smile.

Still, you could tell Tim tended to make others uncomfortable. You could understand, he did have a way of staring right into you, but it seeemd to just be something he did. You weren’t aware, of course, of the fact that Tim only ever turned that soft gaze toward you, preferring to glare at anyone that so much as approached the two of you. Your naive disposition did have its uses, after all, as it prevented you from getting suspicious… There was a reason why no one would approach you at work, and why all of your bosses seemed nervous around you, and why you got sudden pay increases. You just thought you were a good worker, completely oblivious to everything else going on.

If Tim thought threatening off any love interests was easy, bugging your apartment was even easier. He was able to simply slip in through an unlocked window as Red Robin and place cameras all over, giving him 24-7 footage of your living room and kitchen. he avoided both the bathroom and bedroom; he didn’t want to be too creepy, after all, even if Jason did seem to want the bedroom to be bugged, in case someone else was able to slip in. You weren’t the best at securing your apartment, and he worried about your safety, okay? As a result of his anxiety, Jason began patrolling more and more around your house, not that you’d ever notice; they’d have to teach you to start looking up at the rooftops more, after they fully brought you into the family, of course.

Using the information he gained from the cameras, Tim was only able to get even closer to you. He was able to research your interests, your opinions, your hobbies… He was able to learn anything he couldn’t get from hacking your laptop and phone. It was different, hearing your little rants at the tv screen as you watched your favorite show; reading your search history just didn’t give him enough information.

Finally, with the help of Cass of course, he was able to ask you out, after ironing out the perfect plan. He took you out to the movies and then dinner, finally ending up at your apartment, watching your favorite movie while cuddling on your couch. It was there you first kissed.

Dating your boss was definitely an adjustment, but honestly the two of you were so close it didn’t seem to change anything. The best part for Tim was finally being able to touch you, to hold your hand, to gently cup your cheek and plant a kiss on your lips… To be able to hold you in the way he’d always dreamed.

Yet, he found himself inundated with requests at the mansion and through the groupchat, as every family member clamoured to get to spend time with you. He started spotting Dick and Jason and even Cass in shoddy disguises while on dates, and he knew it was time to introduce you to them. So, he invited you for dinner.

When you first walked in, you were greeted with Alfred, the stoic butler Tim had always described. He seemed nicer in person, none of the dry wit you’d ben prepared to face, and he took your coat gently and with grace.

Next, you were introduced to Tim’s quiet sister Cass, who wrapped you in a big hug and patted you on the back. She was nice, if hard to read, and seemed to love touching you; she kept gently patting your back, even throughout the night, as if she couldn’t bare to go another moment without keeping close to you.

Then you met Jason, who was busy cooking in the kitchen, Dick sitting on the counter and sneaking carrots when Jason’s back was turned. The two were incredibly kind, though intimidating, as you knew their opinions mattered a lot to Tim. Dick picked you up in a big sweeping hug, seemingly even more touchy than his sister.

Jason was quiet, weirdly so according to Tim, and spent a lot of the night just… staring at you. Maybe he felt uncomfortable being around you? You could imagine having a sibling introduce their partner would be awkward, and you knew the Waynes had had their fair share of terrible romances. later on, when you voiced your worries to Tim, he waved them away; Jason was just trying not to freak you out, he insisted, sure that his older brother would never be able to hate you.

The final brother you met was Damian, who was curled up on the couch with a cat in his lap and two dogs at his feet. He was a quiet child, a seemingly permanent glare on his face only softening slightly when it landed on you. The only way you knew he didn’t hate you was the fact that he let you pet his cat, who was apparently named after the butler.

You only met Tim’s elusive father at dinner. He was kind, if a little ditzy, and quite welcoming. All in all, the family was polite, and you felt truly welcomed for the first time in your life. It was like you’d known them for years, you seemed to just… click!

Of course, looking back, you could see how they knew you so well.

It had happened out of the blue. You’d been drinking some hot chocolate after winding down with the family, watching a cute cartoon on their large tv, and the next thing you knew was that you were waking up in a dark room. Tim was sitting next to you in the bed, laptop illuminating his pale face, highlighting the dark eyebags.

“Oh good, you’re up!” he said, setting his laptop aside and turning the bedside lamp on. You sat up, confused, rubbing at your throbbing head. You felt like you hadn’t drank water in three days. When you asked what had happened, he only smiled.

“It’s alright, don’t worry, we can talk about that later.”

Now feeling slightly uncomfortable, you stood up. Tim shifted slightly, following you and placing himself between you and the door. “Hey, let’s just sit back down, okay? I don’t want you to be too stressed, the dose was a little higher than I expected…”

Dose? When you questioned him, he laughed sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his head. His eyes blinked back at you, seemingly innocent despite your terror.

“Well, we needed time to get you all set up, and we couldn’t have you fighting when we sent in your resignation…” He said, smiling gently.

Shit. Shit! He’d fucking kidnapped you!

You went to dodge around him, but he moved faster than you were able to even anticipate, grabbing you around the waist and hoisting you into the air.

He plopped you back onto the bed, quickly pinning you down. “Hey, calm down!” He said, voice even, as though he wasn’t currently fighting to keep your hands from smacking at his face.

“I promise it’s okay, we won’t hurt you!”

Then, the door slammed open, and in walked Jason. His combat boots thunked against the shiny wooden floor, and he seemed nonplussed. “why aren’t you stopping them?” He questioned, leaning against the wall next to the bed. He pulled out his phone and quickly sent a text, fingers flying across the keys. He ignored your calls for help.

“I’m trying!” Tim huffed, finally able to get your hands under control, quickly tying them with thick, velvety rope.

“Do you need help getting them downstairs?” Jason sighed, tucking the phone away.

“Nah, I got it,” Tim said, standing up and heaving you up and over his shoulder. With that, Tim and Jason made their way downstairs, you tossed over Tim’s shoulder and struggling all the way. It fewlt particularly humiliating, the way that your struggles weren’t even acknowledged, much less viewed as a threat.

Finally, you were brought into the living room and plopped down, Tim and Jason quickly sitting down on either side of you. Jason quickly picked up your legs and slung them across his lap, keeping you from wiggling away.

Bruce sat down on the other side of the room, sinking into the green armchair. The other siblings scattered across the room, all staring at you with a similar gleam in their eyes.

“So, let’s go over some ground rules.” Bruce said, beginning the next phase of your life.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Sunscreen & Statistics (S.R.)

Summary: Reader asks for Spencer’s help putting on sunscreen (and washing it off after).  Request: Spencer lecturing Reader on the statistics of wearing sunscreen, but his mind going blank when reader needs him to help put it on. A/N: This is my (first) entry to my Summer Sunshine Challenge! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Spencer POV, so much sexual tension, mutual pining, heavy petting, fingering, rough sex, unprotected penetrative sex, coworker relationship, so many statistics (showers, skin cancer, sunscreen, sex), schizophrenia mention, Reader wears a bikini Word Count: 5.6k

MASTERLIST

It was a beautiful day—the kind that artists had attempted to capture through many mediums. The summer sun was relentless, stretching its rays across every inch of the region. Even the shade hardly seemed spared, with bits of bright light slipping between green rustling leaves.

This seemingly idyllic set of circumstances offered the BAU a wonderful excuse to stay behind on the sunnier coast. Everyone was quick to buy new bathing suits and Rossi had already begrudgingly extended an invitation for everyone to stay at his favorite luxury hotel (on his dime, of course, or none of us would’ve made it).

The celebrations were already in full swing, and everyone was blissfully happy. It was, after all, the perfect day to hang out by the pool. So, they did. Each and every one…

Except for me. I stayed inside.

I wasn’t trying to ruin the fun. I had my reasons. Some were more reasonable than others.

Others were scary and slightly embarrassing. They wore a smile so bright it would rival the sun and managed to make me turn red even quicker than the star could. The kind of reason that turned me to nothing but a blubbering mess of a man.

I should’ve known better than to try to avoid her, though. Because that reason, that very important and tempting enchantress of a reason, always seemed to find me at the most inopportune time.

“Are you still hiding in here?”

I nearly jumped through my skin at the sound.

“No!”

I turned to find her staring back with an entertained, albeit disbelieving stare.

“Sort of. Maybe,” I felt compelled to continue.

When she still didn’t believe me—for obvious reasons—I finally conceded, “Yes.”

To my joy and eternal shame, she laughed like it had been an intentional joke.

“Well, I got banished back inside because I forgot sunscreen, so I’m trying to figure out where JJ left her bag,” she sighed.

Thankfully, that had been something I could help with. Despite everyone’s enthusiasm when they’d tossed the bags into the center of the suite lobby, I had managed to determine who owned which brightly colored pattern.

From my seat in the center, I reached over to pull JJ’s bag from the fray.

As soon as (y/n) spotted the motion, she was quick to exclaim, “My hero!”

Immediately, I felt the blood rush to my face.

I suppose there were worse places it could have gone.

“How did you forget sunscreen?” I asked.

“I hate the way it feels, so I almost never wear it unless forced,” she shrugged. Then, she turned to me, pointing the bottle like a weapon as she explained, “Plus, it always feels like they’re trying to trick me with all the numbers. I don’t know what SPF is. They could just be lying to me.”

“Well, the good news is that even a weak sunscreen is helpful,” I tried to reassure her. “Regular daily use of at least 15 SPF can reduce your risk of squamous cell carcinoma and melanoma by up to 50%.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah. I can tell you more about this product specifically, if you want.”

When I held out my hand, she was quick to hand me the bottle. I was, in turn, very happy to have an excuse to look at something other than her before all the blood left my brain.

“Okay, so, this one is an interesting formula. It offers a decent coverage and—,” I started, but my voice died just as soon as I looked up.

Because there she was, pulling her top over her head to reveal the barely-there bikini beneath it.

I knew I only had a few seconds to shamelessly ogle her before she would find out, and I greedily accepted the sight of soft curves that all consisted of and led to her.

My eyes traversed her body the way I wished my hands could until I was left practically trembling.

The blood wasn’t in my face anymore. It wasn’t even anywhere near my brain. To the point I’d barely even noticed she’d already taken her pants off until her voice snapped me back to reality.

“And what?” she said.

“What?”

“… You stopped talking.”

“I did?”

She reached forward and grabbed the bottle from my hand. If she’d noticed the way I had been looking at her, she didn’t say anything about it. She just sort of… smiled.

“Are you alright, Doctor?” she asked.

“Yes,” I lied.

I might’ve been able to answer honestly if it hadn’t been for the way she dumped the contents of the bottle into her hand and began lathering it over her legs.

“A-Anyways,” I tried to continue. With a wavering voice and wandering eyes, I rambled, “to maximize protection you should really use about an ounce of sunscreen with an SPF of 30. Anything over 30 is, well, like you suggested, sort of a scam.”

All the while, there she was, smoothing over slick skin that smelled like summer.

“An ounce, huh?” she hummed as her hands traveled between pillowy thighs to coat skin the sun could rarely reach. “Feels like you could make it a drinking game with enough motivation.”

“Drinking alcohol actually dramatically increases your risk of sunburn, so you should definitely wear more sunscreen if you’re drinking,” I muttered absently while my eyes stayed firmly fixed between her thighs long after her hands had abandoned the area.

“Noted,” she said, the end of the word tinged with a little bit of amusement.

I looked up at her to try to understand what had excited her, or perhaps annoyed her.

Or at least, I tried to look at her face. My eyes made a few involuntarily stops along the way. Once they settled safely back on her smile, however, she was quick to get my blood pumping in a different way.

“So, will you help me?” she asked.

“With what?”

She scoffed, then laughed.

“… the sunscreen? Duh.”

Despite my best efforts to make any sense of the request, I was, once again, a hopeless, lovesick idiot.

“W-What?” I babbled, “You… You want me to put it on? You?”

“I can ask JJ if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No!” I blurted out with both hands raised in opposition or surrender.

Didn’t seem to matter which.

I tried to explain it away, but my attempts to bolster my good character seemed even less convincing than the sudden outburst.

“N-No, no it’s fine. I-It’s… why would that make me… uncomfortable? I’m fine. I can do it.”

“Wow. Convincing,” she teased.

And that is what it was. There was no anger in her tone; not even a hint of resentment. She laughed, and I did, too.

“Okay, I admit that wasn’t very convincing. But seriously, I can do it. Promise.”

She spoke through her teeth when she muttered, “Whatever you say.”

When she tossed me the bottle back, we were both surprised to find that I’d caught it.

My hands, still shaky, were quick to close the gap between our bodies. The sunscreen felt nearly frigid compared to our skin, but she didn’t seem to mind.

In fact, she rewarded the sensation with a dreamy sigh and a slight arching of her back.

That motion, however small, felt like fire to an already ruined man. I tried to stay focused on more innocent areas. I worked my hands over knotted muscles in her shoulder and tried to free her of those burdens, too. With each swipe of my thumbs, she would let out the most delicious rumble that made me want to do it again.

Each time that I pulled away to add more, I came back a few inches lower until my fingers nearly slipped beneath the top of her bikini bottoms.

At that moment, with her arched lower back pressed against my palms and my fingers brushing against the little fabric between us, she shivered. Silently, I watched as the goosebumps covered her skin like a sheet.

Reaching forward to grab hold of the couch in front of her, she arched her back once more. The movement seemed intentional, closing a couple inches of the distance between us until there was almost nothing.

With more speed than I’d intended, I stepped back and nearly fell.

“O-Okay, I-I think that’s it!” I said with a squeak.

To my dismay, she stayed exactly where she was for a long moment. In fact, she deepened the stretch and fell forward with a sigh before she whined, “Shame.”

I tried to calm my fast beating heart while simultaneously trying to run from the thoughts that continued to chase me the longer she stayed bent over. My hands were still buzzing from the contact, and I felt almost lightheaded from the strength of the unrelenting erection still struggling against compression shorts underneath my pants.

(I had been right that I would need them if she was going to be there.)

And there she was, finally standing and stretching her arms over her head. They dropped back down and I couldn’t stop myself from admiring the effect of physics on her chest.

“It felt nice to be touched like that,” she sighed.

I couldn’t respond to that without making a complete fool of myself, so I tried to distance myself from the moment, instead.

“You’re actually supposed to wait 30 minutes after application to go into the sun, but, y-you can probably just sit in the shade and wait.”

“Did you already apply yours?”

“I’m not taking off my clothes so I could do it myself,” I explained.

I should’ve known better than to doubt her ability to get whatever she wanted—which, at the moment seemed to be my catastrophic defeat.

“Well, that’s not fair,” she whined, “I want to return the favor!”

“I-I mean… I’ll probably have to reapply it to my face soon, but I doubt you want to—.”

“Awe! Fun!” she cried before I could finish the thought, “Gimme!”

“Oh… um, okay.”

I handed her the bottle and whatever I still had of my heart. With expert fingers, she spread the chilly contents over my cheeks. We were both smiling, the expressions growing wider and more genuine as she started to play with pliable skin.

I involuntarily joined in on her laughter. Her hands and eyes were so warm, I couldn’t help but melt into a puddle in her palms.

The moment ended far too quickly. I missed her immediately, but she made sure that my smile didn’t fade.

“There. You’re only sort of pasty now,” she sighed contentedly before adding, “Mostly red, actually.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” I grumbled back. The sarcastic tilt to the sound wasn’t lost on her.

I realized in that awkward, somehow lonely quiet that I loved her more than I’d thought.

I almost wanted to tell her. I’d even opened my mouth, ready to spill the contents of my soul and hope for the best.

I never got a chance, though. Because before I’d uttered a single syllable, she jumped with her own realization.

“Oh, I forgot the most important part!”

“What?”

She turned away from me and dove her attention into the pile of bags without further explanation. I watched as she dug through clothing and whatever else she’d stuffed into her tote until she stood triumphantly with a closed fist.

“What?” I asked again.

She held up a single finger in reply.

I followed her instruction, waiting patiently as I watched her uncap a small tube of chapstick and use it to thoroughly coat her lips. Once again, I was left to shamelessly stare at a beautiful woman as she dutifully cared for herself in a way I’d wished I could.

Swallowing the lump in my throat that carried heartfelt confessions, I spoke again.

“What am I waiting for, exactly?” I teased.

Her eyes narrowed with what seemed to be a playful warning.

“Sunscreen application,” she explained flatly, “Duh.”

I paused. My head cocked to the side and my face twisted as I struggled to find any explanation for why she’d needed me for this part.

“Wha—?”

Then, just when I’d started to speak, it hit me all at once.

And by that, I mean she kissed me.

With both hands cupping already-reddened cheeks, she pulled me forward until I could taste flavored lip balm and her.

Her lips opened, sliding against mine with an undeniable affection that made my whole body tense. I tried to hold her, but it all happened so quickly that by the time I raised my hands to her arms, she was almost gone.

“There!” she said happily, “Now we’re ready.”

For what? I wanted to ask.

But before I could make myself speak, she was already gone.

I spent the next several hours outside.

The rest of the team seemed both surprised and not surprised about my decision to join them. After all, everyone knew I didn’t particularly enjoy pools or any body of water, and, despite my Vegas origins, the sun and I didn’t quite get along.

But they also knew I liked her.

It had never been more obvious than it was that day, when I emerged from the safety of darkness with freshly kissed lips and an expression filled with utter confusion.

(Y/n) was quick to greet me in her usual manner. She said nothing about the kiss.

Part of me had even started to wonder if I’d hallucinated the whole thing. Maybe the doctors had all been wrong, and I was already waist-deep in psychosis that manifested purely through happy memories of her.

It would be an odd presentation, sure, but at the time it somehow felt more likely than her returning my affections. But as soon as I started to convince myself, she would flash me a glance that set my already overheated body on fire. Even as she peered up at me from the edge, I could still see her smile under the water.

She wore that same look in her eye she always did when we were alone. It was a slightly unnerving but mostly flattering feeling. It felt like being wanted by a beautiful woman.

I’m definitely losing it.

That was the only reasonable conclusion to reach. Because when she emerged from the pool, I could’ve sworn she paused before to make sure I was watching.

Of course, I was watching. I made sure that my flawless memory captured damn near every droplet as it caressed her curves. I stared, practically worshipped the sight of her lips parted with a relieved exhale that I could see leave her chest.

The blood was gone again. I was doomed.

“You’re still hiding, huh?”

I was too afraid to answer until she took the seat closest to me.

“No, not hiding, just… staying safe,” I explained through my typical awkward smile.

I pointed up to the umbrella above me, but she didn’t look. Her eyes stayed glued to me.

“It’s probably time for me to reapply, huh?” she laughed.

I liked the way it sounded, so, I laughed, too.

“Yeah, to be honest, you really should’ve done it a couple hours ago, but I didn’t want you to think I was… a wet blanket or a pervert.”

She snorted at the suggestion. Her eyes squinted, playful as always and carrying some meaning that evaded me.

“It’s very interesting that those were the two options that came to your mind,” she said.

I panicked.

“I don’t know, it’s weird, isn’t it? Me insisting you should let me touch you?” I rushed, “I’m not crazy, right? It’s… weird! It’s…!”

She sighed.

At first, I mistook the sound for annoyance. But when I looked into her eyes, I knew that wasn’t right.

Because she looked… like she had been caught in a dream. A melancholy fantasy of something she felt was just beyond her reach.

She was looking at me, I realized, exactly the same way I looked at her.

 “You’re not crazy, Spencer,” she said with a smile, “Just a little oblivious.”

My lips twitched as I fought a smirk that came through, anyway.

“I can accept that.”

She seemed pleased, as if I’d given the right answer.

“Well, the good news is I’m done with the sun for the day,” she announced.

Her eyes finally left me as she once again stretched her arms over her head and left me to ogle her like an idiot. Then, when I was thoroughly distracted, she glanced around like she was checking to see if anyone could hear her.

“They don’t seem to be calming down, so…” she said, much quieter now, “any statistics on what I should do with sunscreen when I’m finished with it?”

“No statistics, per se, but you definitely should wash it off. It can be pretty irritating for skin,” I answered matter-of-factly. “Not to mention the salts and chemicals from the pool.”

“I see,” she laughed.

Then, when she realized that I was, in fact, a hopeless, perverted fool with no blood in his brain, she made her intentions much clearer.

“Will you help me with that?”

Not clear enough for me, though.

“What?” I asked.

“With the sunscreen,” she answered simply.

“Uh—.”

Even that eloquent thought couldn’t make it through a parched, tightening throat. With each passing second and every syllable uttered, my voice got higher and even more unstable.

“I’m sorry, are you—what—w-what are you asking me?”

That’s when she took my hand, bursting with laughter as she dragged me from me seat with the most terrifying, alluring, and magical answer.

“Come on, pretty boy.”

I followed her without question but many concerns—the largest of which was the fear that she was actually leading me to my demise by humiliation.

Those worries grew tenfold when she yanked me over the threshold into her private room.

I stumbled forward and practically fell into her arms. But she was waiting for me, seemingly anticipating the clumsiness. Her hands were still soft, still soothing on boiling skin as she guided my lips to hers for the second time that day.

That time, I was prepared.

My hands covered her sun-kissed cheeks and pulled her even closer than she’d done to me before.

She tasted like salt and sugar from summer fresh fruit. I gave her every breath that I had, panting hopelessly against her lips each time that we broke apart.

Her hands were gentle when they found mine. I was reluctant to leave her until I realized that she was simply repositioning them to less innocent areas.

Still, I hesitated to go any further. I let my hands rest softly against her hips while I struggled to express my relief.

“Thank god,” I laughed, “I was sort of worried you were going to beat me up for staring at you all day.”

Her eyes locked onto mine with a hunger that seemed almost insatiable.

“No, I like it when you look at me like that,” she stated so simply it hurt. “In fact, I think I want to thank you.”

Before I could ask her how she intended to that, she made her intentions very clear by grabbing my dick through the fabric of my pants.

“So, tell me… any statistics on why we shouldn’t have sex in the shower?” she asked.

I don’t know how she’d expected me to think clearly. It actually seemed like she was purposefully trying to make it harder for me to form any words at all.

“It’s actually—,” I started just to stop when she started stroking the full length of me with devilish fingers.

“It’s actually really dangerous to try to have sex in the shower,” I tried again.

That time, she began applying a cascading pressure through playful fingertips. I spoke faster, trying to finish any thought before I truly lost my mind.

“There is a—fuck—a 44% chance of injury,” I forced out.

Her hand stopped. She cocked her head to the side with a brilliant smile and asked, “Is that right?”

I was almost relieved. Almost.

“Yeah, and…”

Then she started taking off my pants.

“A-and it can be quite uncomfortable for a woman without additional lubrication,” I said while shaking my head.

Even my subconscious knew I was speaking against my own self-interest, that I could’ve just accepted her question as rhetorical. I could’ve just shut up and go along with whatever she wanted because I would always be happy so long as she was happy.

She dropped down as she pulled my pants to the ground and revealed a second set of bottoms. I couldn’t be sure of it, but she seemed vindicated when she realized how hard my body was struggling against the compression shorts.

“The movies make it look so fun, don’t they?” she hummed as she stood back up. “I guess it is pretty dangerous. And inconvenient.”

“Yeah, but also, I sort of wish I hadn’t said any of that,” I responded immediately, “Let’s do it anyway.”

Thankfully, she found my eagerness charming and not pathetic (or perhaps those were the same to her). Her fingers sneaked past the band of the compression shorts, but she didn’t make the move to remove them yet.

Instead, she used her free hand to lead mine straight to the knot holding her bikini bottoms together.

My fingers twitched. She leaned closer, her cheek pressed against mine and her breath hot on my ear as she said the most beautiful words.

“We can shower after, then.”

“Thank you god,” I cried.

Practiced fingers untangled the knots within seconds, and I fought the urge to stare at her newly exposed skin by kissing her instead.

Her skin, still wet, was chilled enough from the cooler air that she barely reacted when I backed her against the ceramic countertop in the bathroom.

She leaned back, groaning with relief when I finally undid the knots of her top.

Again, I shamelessly admired the wonderful world of physics as it was displayed before me. With each breath, her chest lifted and came closer to my own.

Seemingly sharing the same thoughts, she reached forward and practically tugged my shirt off of me.

As soon as I could, I held her naked body as close to me as I could. My hands covered her lower back and drifted further down her hips, seeking every inch of cold skin that remained.

“God, you’re beautiful,” I whispered. I couldn’t see most of her, but the memory from mere seconds ago was as vivid as it would ever be. “Words don’t exist that would ever do it justice.”

She pulled back, still toying with the tops of my shorts with that insatiable look in her eyes.

“I’d say take a picture, but I think your memory might rival a camera,” she giggled.

“I’ll never forget this,” I promised her, “I’ll never forget you.”

But there were so many other ways I’d yet to see her. So, after carefully loving each inch of her hips, I turned my attention to the burning heat between her thighs. 

At the same time my finger slid through slick folds, my lips found hers once more.

“I wanna make you feel good,” I slurred.

Her lips parted in a broken gasp as I tried to do just that. I inched eager fingers between tight muscles and didn’t even bother fighting the urge to moan into her mouth.

She swallowed that desire and returned her own with a growing enthusiasm. My fingers grew faster, sloppier in their gentle beckoning for her to fall apart.

“That’s it. Good girl,” I reassured her when her breathy moans became pitchy. “Oh, you deserve to feel so good, sweetheart.”

That spark in her eyes had turned into a wildfire further stoked by my praise. I leaned into it; I became more confident in my loving her. Her walls were tense and insistent, seeking something more than what my hand could give them.

I withdrew them despite her immediate protests. She recanted any complaint as soon as I moved drenched fingers to the small pearl at her center.

Her moans became shameless, and I accepted them as an imminent victory. She rocked her hips against my hand, riding it to find her elusive end.

All the while, her eyes were locked onto mine. She refused to look away, forced us both to acknowledge that I was the one who brought her here. To the edge of the abyss, to the ultimate euphoria.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” I said through a smirk, “Come for me.”

She followed the direction with the utmost enthusiasm. She fell forward, favoring me to the cold countertop. I caught her but continued my relentless efforts to please her.

I kept going, kept cherishing her until she whimpered from my touch. Then I held her. I pet her damp hair and laid a gentle kiss atop the crown of her head.

“Good girl,” I assured her.

But I wasn’t finished yet.

“Now turn around.”

She perked up the second she’d heard the order. Although she’d barely caught her breath, she turned on shaky legs without question.

My hands found her hips just like they had before. Except this time, there were no bikini bottoms. There was only pillowy flesh and the strong muscles of her backside pressed firmly against my dick.

Barely moving away from her, I finally freed myself from the confines of compression shorts. I groaned with relief and noticed how the sound made her back arch further.

When I lined myself up at her entrance, she rewarded the action with a dreamy sigh.

It wasn’t enough for me. I wanted to see the look on her face, to hear the desperation in her voice before I gave her what I’d fantasized of from the moment I met her.

My hand knotted in her hair. I pulled her back from her comfortable position braced against the countertop. I held her up so that I could whisper in her ear the same as she’d done to me earlier.

“This is what you wanted, right?” I asked, as if her whimpers hadn’t been answer enough.

“Yes,” she moaned, “please.”

The sound of debauchery on her tongue sent shockwaves through me. My cock twitched involuntarily, bumping against satin skin now dripping with desire.

I barely resisted the urge to slam into her with full force. Instead, I stayed there, with just the tip of me inside of her as I groaned.

“Oh, I’d give you the whole world if you asked me like that.”

“This’ll do for now,” she giggled.

Her hips began to sway as she rocked on her toes. She chased even just a half inch more of me and rewarded me with beautiful sounds when I finally started to sink into her.

“That’s it…” I sighed.

Her confidence was quickly shaken, though, as my pursuit continued. Not even half of my dick was inside her when I felt her start to tremble.

“You can take it,” I assured her.

She responded by tightening her muscles even further, resisting the gentle stretch of her body as it accommodated my own.

“That’s my girl,” I groaned. The blinding heat of her demanded my full attention to the point that I was barely coherent as I slurred, “You’re doing such a good job, sweetheart.”

But all it took was one word to unravel my best efforts.

“Spencer,” she whimpered.

Any hesitance I had vanished without a trace. I thrust my hips forward to the hilt with so much force that she scrambled to stay on her feet. Manicured nails struggled to find a grip the ceramic before my next motion.

I took my time pulling back, and I watched her struggle with the fullness that was our bodies come together. I reveled in the sight of her heaving chest and clouded eyes.

That time, I didn’t fight the urge to slam into her. I even pulled her back as I did it, bringing our bodies together over and over again with a blissful type of violence.

With each thrust, I watched her reaction in the mirror. I made sure that my mind captured each second of her pleasure. Each time her jaw dropped open with whines and praise in the shape of my name.

“Please, Spencer,” she keened with a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the counter.

I hadn’t been sure what she was asking for, so I continued to love her the same as I always had.

But she only became more frustrated, sobbing with pleasure the next time my hips crashed into hers.

“Harder,” she cried out.

And I tried. I tried to follow her instruction, to grant her the release that could only be found in the fullest expression of years of repressed passion.

The problem wasn’t my unwillingness to give my everything to her. Rather, it was the siren’s call of resistant, relentlessly desperate muscles.

“You’re so fucking tight,” I ground through clenched jaw. 

Then, with a small and wavering voice, she insisted, “I can take it.”

Every atom of my being burned with a suffocating desire. It felt nearly feral; fully free to show her just how badly my body ached to be with her.

She began slamming back against me with a similar fervor and I almost made myself stop.

“Fuck, I’m so close, but I don’t want it to end,” I begged her.

But that beautiful, evasive, brilliant star of a woman just giggled. I could practically feel myself leaving bruises in the shape of my fingertips and she couldn’t have been happier.

Through the mirror, she looked at me and reminded me of the full, unrelenting power of the sun.

“Don’t worry,” she purred, “we can do it again later.”

That was all it took. With just a look, she practically brought me to my knees.

“Fuck!” I choked as I slammed into her with my full force. We both nearly collapsed against the counter, but I managed to pull her hips down harder against me just as I found my release.

The blissful heat of her grew to new heights as I filled her. Each wave of pleasure caused her to shiver with sheets of goosebumps.

I watched through half-lidded, lust-clouded vision as she accepted every inch and every drop of my desire with a euphoric smile.

“Sorry,” I said while trying to catch my breath. Even when I managed to capture some breath, it escaped me with a laugh as I explained, “I… I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

“Don’t apologize,” she slurred.

I might’ve thought she was just being merciful if she hadn’t immediately followed, “That was fun.”

It was so obviously sincere, but I was so ridiculously stupid that I had to be sure, anyway.

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she laughed.

The sound was even more beautiful when I could feel the vibrations from within. I groaned from the thought of how it might feel for her lips to be wrapped around my cock. It twitched inside her, and she responded with a small whimper.

My hips bucked one more time, forcing me to the hilt before I withdrew in one quick motion.

I stood there for a moment, holding her hips steady as I watched the evidence of what we’d just done drip down her thighs.

My stomach was filled with butterflies doing flips and there was no accounting for the blood that still hadn’t made its way back to my brain.

(Y/n) was patient as ever with a pitiful man.

“Come on, pretty boy,” she chuckled as she took my hand, “help me get clean.”

Despite my best efforts, there were significantly less attempts to get clean in the shower than I’d expected. It was only thanks to her self-preservation that we didn’t end up having sex in the shower, although we came pretty close.

I could never tire of kissing her, but I realized I could love her just as much with lather as I could with my lips. My worship shifted as I dutifully cared for her the way I’d always wished I could.

When it was over, I didn’t give up. I followed her into her bed and she made no attempt to stop me.

In fact, she moved closer to me until my arm could reach around her waist and her head rested on my chest.

“Any other statistics you want to share?” she mumbled, now sleepy from the sun and… other activities.

“Always,” I answered. “Like, did you know, I have now joined the 54% of people who have slept with a coworker?”

“Fascinating. Was it worth it?” she chuckled, having already known my answer.

“Yes,” I told her, anyway. But the way I always did when it came to sharing statistics, I couldn’t stop myself. “Although, there is a smaller subset of that group that’s even more interesting.”

She gasped, quickly pressing her fingers to my lips to stop me from ruining her moment.

“Let me guess—at least half of them fucked in the office,” she said.

And in that quiet, private moment, the only thing more beautiful than her hopeful smile was the fact she’d gotten it right.

“You are, without a doubt, the most attractive woman I’ve ever met in my life,” I confessed.

She gave her wholehearted admission that she felt the same in the best way she could.

With a cheeky smile and the utmost sincerity, she asked, “What are the odds of that?”

(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)

Looking for another mutual pining summer-themed fic? Check out my 11.2k oneshot Lost Time, where Reader and Spencer spend their mandatory leave taking the Spring Break Spencer never got to have. 

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[emsdevs]

Hi ☺️ I've never written like this on any blog before, but recently a thought crossed my mind about Nico and when I saw your post I thought of writing you. What if the reader is studying sports medicine and needs to study for an exam? She would have known Nico Hischier for some time thanks to her father who is a former NHL player and Nico would have helped her with her studies. She has a big crush on him. And She was just learning about muscle injuries and Nico wanted to give her a visual demonstration of his muscles, so he took off his shirt so that Angie can clearly show places where injuries can occur 🤭? If it's stupid, forget it 🙈 But it seemed like an interesting idea for a short blurb, I think. And sorry for my English, it is not my native language 😅 Have a nice day 🩷

Anatomy Lesson

a/n: I'm so sorry for the delay love. I hope you like it!! I don't know much about sports medicine or human anatomy, so a little bit of credit goes to @heartsforjh for telling me about different muscles and where they can be found!! 🩵

masterlist | NHL Masterlists | Nico Hischier Masterlist

You had been knee-deep in anatomy flashcards all evening, and it didn’t seem like it would end any time soon. You had just started looking at the different kinds of muscle injuries for an upcoming exam when you heard a knock at your door. You stood from your couch and made your way to your door, looking through the peephole to find Nico Hischier. Your father introduced the two of you at a Devils event a few years ago, and you have been close friends ever since. You slowly opened the door, confused as to what might have brought him here unannounced, and that’s when Nico smiled brightly and held up the take-out he’d brought.

“You mentioned that you’d been studying most of the day, so I thought you might need a pick-me-up,” he gave you a soft smile before coming in.

“I really appreciate that, Nico,” you return his smile. You lead him into your living room, where you then take a break to eat with Nico. Once the take-out is gone and you’re both full, you settle back in studying, Nico watching with a curious gaze beside you. It doesn’t take him long to pipe up.

“What exactly are you studying? I mean I know it’s like bones and stuff, but what are you struggling with right now?” 

“Right now, I’m looking at the different types of muscles, where they’re located, and how they can be injured, specifically sprained.”

“Oh, wow. That’s… a lot,” Nico grimaces.

“I just can’t quite figure out the abdominal muscles and the ones in that general area. Like I’m almost struggling to picture where exactly they’re located.”

“Oh, well here you go,” Nico stood straight up, slipping his shirt off and tossing it onto the couch beside where you’re sitting. “Now you have a good visual.”

Your mouth runs dry, and you’re not sure when you’ll be able to speak again. Usually, you can keep your crush on the hockey player on the down low, but right now, you’re not sure that’s possible. Just as quickly as your mouth went dry, it started watering, and you had to fight to keep yourself from noticeably drooling. He’s attractive all the time, but with his toned body on display about two feet in front of you, you’ve never been more attracted to him than right now.

“Ummm, yeah. Thanks, Neeks,” you squeak out. Nico pretends not to notice how flustered you are. He had put together a few weeks ago that you returned his feelings, so he’s been trying to subtly step up his game, hoping you would realize he feels the same as you. Being a live model was definitely not in his plan when he showed up today, but he’s thinking this might work out in his favor. “Of course! Feel free to touch too. It might be helpful to feel exactly where the muscle is. You know?”

“Yeah… yep,” your face is bright red. You’re sure of it. 

Before you knew it, you had been naming muscles and pointing them out on Nico’s body for about an hour. You were holding your breath at this point, not used to being this close to him.

“Okay, so obviously these are the pectoralis major muscles,” your hands hover over his pecs, “so this would be the external intercostal muscles.” You move your hands downwards just a few inches, right over where the muscles would be, but something in the air changes when you take a moment to look up at Nico. Your eyes locked, and your hands shifted forward just slightly, now fully lying on his lower chest. You can feel your breathing quicken, and you see Nico’s eyes dart down to your lips. A second later, his lips are on yours, and the moment your brain catches up to what’s happening you’re returning the kiss feverishly. 

His hands move to your waist before one of them slides to your lower back, pulling you as close to him as possible. As much as you love the feel of his firm chest under your hands, you need something to ground you, so you slide them both up his body, leaving one on the back of his neck while the other moves to his hair. You grab his hair lightly, trying to keep him close, but it only causes him to groan into your mouth, pushing into the kiss a little harder. In retaliation, he bites your bottom lip before he pulls away, both of you needing to catch your breath.

The two of you stand there for a moment, not sure what to do now that the line of friendship has been crossed. You watch as a smile slowly breaks out on Nico’s face, and there’s a matching one on yours not long after. You both laugh under your breath, and you hide your face in Nico’s shoulder, hoping he won’t see how red you are.

“How was that for an anatomy lesson?” he giggles like a schoolboy, giving you those perfect doe eyes of his.

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[kiame-sama]

Similar question to the one with Drider!Rook on kissing but with the other Monster Boys

How would they handle me giving them a kiss on the cheek (Or even their mouth) only to take something from them in victory?

But it’s mainly to prove a point that I don’t need physical strength to win, but my cunning and intelligence (Like I take their Dorm Staff or whatever’s in their hand in triumph because I proved my point)

Honestly, Malleus, Vil, Leona and Azul would be the most impressed but would probably scold me if I did that with others (But their eyes are dilated)

Warnings; Several different Yanderes, yandere behavior, suggestive themes, kissing, thievery, if you kiss any of the monster-men you need to be ready to handle the consequences, mainly Dormleaders (Minus Kalim, because all you have to do is point somewhere and you can easily steal from him. You don't even have to steal, he would willingly give you anything you wanted the moment you showed interest. You'd have a harder time stealing candy from a baby), less thievery and more escaping in Vil's ficlet, use of gamer-tags in place of names for Idia's ficlet,

~~~~~~~~

"Hey, Riddle!"

The Unicorn glanced over his shoulder when he heard your happy greeting, smiling in response to seeing you walking over to him with a slight bounce in your step. Though he would never admit it, the way his heart seized whenever he saw you was both a painful yet wonderful experience. How he longed for you to return his affections and take your rightful place as his King of Hearts.

"Good morning, (Y/N). Have you been well?"

"Of course, but there was something I wanted to talk with you about."

"Oh? What would that be?"

"Come over here, so we can talk without shouting."

The red-maned Unicorn was bemused, yet complied with your request all the same. He would always do as you asked of him, even if it meant moving the very ocean by hand. You smiled in a way that was almost mischievous and Riddle vaguely wondered what it was you were playing at. When he approached, you looked up at him with a content smile that he returned in kind.

"What did you want to talk about?"

"I had some questions for you about Unicorns, actually. Unicorns are a myth where I'm from, so I wanted to see if you could clear up some of the misconceptions I might have surrounding Unicorns."

"I would be happy to teach you about Unicorns, (Y/N)! You can have the utmost faith in me to provide accurate information to your questions. What did you want to know?"

"Are you able to lay down without being injured? The closest we had to Unicorns was regular horses, and they rarely would lie down unless extremely comfortable, young, or ill."

"Of course I can! Here, allow me to demonstrate for you."

He moved his weight back to his haunches, allowing them to meet the ground as he curled one leg after the other beneath him. Once his equine half was settled on the ground, he was about to roll to one side to fully lay down when your soft hand cupped his cheek. Riddle was confused as to your interruption but his confusion quickly turned to shock when your lips locked with his.

An almost whinnying squeal left him, but he was eager to return to affection in kind. Even as he felt the crown of his dorm-uniform being lifted from his head, he pursued the kiss eagerly and chased your lips as you tried to pull back. You were only able to escape the Unicorn's desperate kisses by stepping back, as he was unable to get up as easily as he was able to lie down.

There was a clear red decorating the cheeks of the lovely Unicorn even as you grinned triumphantly and placed the golden crown atop your own head. Little did you realize how much this would actually impact the Unicorn you tricked. A certain darkness seemed to take over the bright blue eyes of the monster man as he gained an almost drunken smile.

"Prefect..." he breathed, "absolutely perfect. My wonderful King of Hearts... of course I'll marry you!"

"Wait, what-?"

The Unicorn stood now, almost invigorated as he easily caught your shoulders in his hands, pulling you back into another deep kiss. When he finally broke it, he was affectionately rubbing the side of his horn against your head with soft nickering noises.

"Didn't you know? Kissing and exchanging an article of clothing is akin to a proposal for Unicorns like me. You'll make a wonderful King, (Y/n). My marvelous King of Hearts."

~•§•~

The Nemean Lion was laying in the vast gardens of the greenhouse, resting beneath the large leaves of a fern commonly found in his homelands of Sunset Savana. He was somewhere between sleep and awareness when a certain scent on the air caught his interest. Without bothering to open his eyes, his ears angled around before pinpointing the location where the scent originated. Leona almost smiled.

It was clear to him that you were trying to be quiet and sneak up on the Lion that continued to lazily lounge as you drew close. The only true indication that he was awake and not sleeping was the almost imperceptible flick of his tail. He was almost eager for what you intended to do after your approach as he continued to flick his tail excitedly.

The moment you were within reach, the Lion proceeded to grab you and pull you into his arms. You had been under the impression that he was asleep, so when he grabbed you, you couldn't help but cry out in surprise and fear. Of course, Leona couldn't help but laugh at your response as he rolled to his side, laying next to you and propping himself up on one arm.

"You'll have to try harder than that if you want to sneak up on me, Mousey."

"I wasn't trying to sneak up on you."

"No? Then why were you trying to be as quiet as possible?"

"Because, I was going to do something else."

"Like?"

Your sudden kiss to his forehead made a loud purr erupt from the chest of the Lion. It was almost too easy to get Leona to let his guard down as your fingers began carding through his mane, scratching near his golden ears. That also gave you the opening you were looking for as you easily slid the dorm emblem off of the arm of the Lion.

However, when you tried to pull away to abscond with your winnings, the weight of Lion was too much to be able to wiggle away from him and from under his grasp.

"Nice try, Mousey. Now, you're going to lay there and be a good little pillow as payment for interrupting my nap."

"But you weren't even sleeping-!"

He was quick to place himself on top of your soft figure, grabbing both of your hands- making you drop the emblem- and putting them back in his hair. There was little else you could do but pet the Lion who began to doze while snuggling your much more fragile form. If you wish to play with Lions, you must be ready to face the consequences of your actions.

~•§•~

"Ne, Azul! The Human is here and says they want ta talk to ya!"

The Cecaelia glanced up from the contract he was working on as Floyd lazily called into the office Azul often occupied. Though he often didn't allow visitors on any schedule but his own, he would make an exception for the beautiful Human he adored.

"Send them in."

"Kay~!"

At least Floyd seemed to be in an affable mood for once, smiling and lazily walking off with the door left somewhat ajar. Azul would scold the Eel later for the blatant forgetful behavior, as it was rather important to close the door to Azul's office due to the many contracts stored within the room. Still, it was something he could bring up later.

Floyd returned to open the door fully, letting the Human into the room with a happy grin in their direction. He seemed to want to linger but instead closed the door and went back to whatever it was he did when he was not tormenting others. Perhaps he was just moving on to torment someone else or even his twin bother.

"(Y/n), welcome to my humble office. What can I help you with today?"

"Well, I was told that you were the one to go to if I ever needed anything others were unable to retrieve."

"You're... you're here for a deal? I would happily make any deal with you, dear (Y/n)! Name your desires and I will deliver as promised!"

He was thrilled to know you were seeking his assistance. He was the best bet most had, after all. Most would have to pay a rather steep price to be able to afford the aid of the Cecaelia on any given day, but he had already resolved to aid you for a much more generous and kind-hearted price than his usual rate.

What he wasn't expecting was for you to sit down on the edge of his desk with an almost coy grin, gazing affectionately into the eyes of the Octopus who now seemed nervous under your scrutiny. He would never admit it- excepting to Floyd and Jade who had already become wise to his affections- but Azul was madly in love with the soft Human of Night Raven College. The Octopus had been in love with the idea of Humans ever since he was a larvae, hardly hatched and struggling in the currents of the ocean.

The many depraved things he had written in his adoration of Humans would hopefully remain unviewed by the Human that now sat perched atop his desk. Of course, it did nothing for the suddenly dry mouth Azul now experienced as he tried to keep himself as composed as possible. Were he in his aquatic form, no doubt his tentacles would be all over the soft skin of the Human, tasting and kissing the flesh that seemed so ample and on display for his gaze.

"Wh-what- ahem- what was it you needed from me, (Y/n)-?"

A sudden warm and soft kiss to the small heart shape beneath Azul's right eye had the Octopus tensing up. He was completely flabbergasted and unable to say anything in response to the affectionate action, even as his hat was lifted from his head and placed atop the head of the grinning Human. The octopus was only able to blink one eye at a time from how scattered his brain had become as the Human hopped off of his desk and pranced to the door, hat still securely in place.

"That's all I needed. Thanks, Azul!"

~•§•~

"Would you stop moving, (Y/n)? Honestly, you are acting as if you have never modeled for us before."

You frowned somewhat at the gentle scolding of the handsome Harpy that was trying to finish stitching the hemming of the shirt you were wearing. Naturally, the Harpy would not be content with just a few outfits for your ensemble and called you back to tailor more clothing for you. Divus wasn't present at this fitting, but Rook was happily watching the Harpy circle you as he hand-sewed the clothes.

"Well, sure, but I wasn't thinking I was going to have to stand for so long. It's not exactly comfortable."

"Beauty is pain, my featherless darling. Pin feathers are annoying and sometime even painful, but they give way to the most beautiful feathers imaginable if left to grow. Patience is needed to truly appreciate the beauty of something."

"If you say so."

Vil smiled slightly at this, glad that you were somewhat compliant to his gentle attempts at giving you direction. He would certainly be far less patient and gentle were you anyone other than his beloved Human. He doubted he would even be so patient with Rook. To be fair, though, Rook hardly complained about much, even if the Drider wasn't particularly comfortable or at ease.

"What do you think of this top now it is cinched properly, Rook?"

"Travail merveilleux, roi du Poison. I was unsure about the draping of the garment, but as always you have a keen eye for such things. Mon Trickster does look divine."

You vaguely wondered, as the Harpy wrapped up his stitching, if you would be able to escape from the fashion inclined duo, and what it would take to achieve such a feat. It was while you were contemplating your daring stunt that an opportunity presented itself. Vil was holding up a new top that had yet to be fitted and was trying to see what color would look best on you when you caught the Harpy's hand and attention. He was clearly suspicious of your actions as he raised a single brow in question.

"You know, Vil, I think pink would look good on you."

"Pink? It depends on the shade of pink, but it would mostly clash with my feathers-"

A sudden gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth silenced the Harpy, a bright pink dusting across the Harpy's fair skin and highlighting the bright coloration around his eyes. Those violet orbs were wide with surprise and even Rook was taken aback at the bold action, unable to find words as you hopped down from the raised platform you had been on.

"Seems I'm right! Pink looks great on you. Thanks for the top, Vil!"

You were quick to abscond from the room as the Harpy held his cheek, still blushing a bright pink. Rook was enthused that you gifted the beautiful Vil with such a treasured sign of affection, trailing a finger down the ridge of his boon-companion's wings as he walked around the stunned Harpy.

"Rook, how do you think (Y/n) would look dressed in a wedding gown made from your silk and my feathers?"

"Absolutely divine, like you, Roi du poison."

~•§•~

"Why can't we just virtual visit class, HellKitty?"

"Because, Idia, you need to interact with the other students at some point. Push your comfort zone and be a student, for once."

Idia frowned as he hid behind his tablet, trying to avoid all of the curious looks he got from others in the halls. He was trailing behind you- more than a little unwilling on his part- to what was supposed to be his next class. If he had the choice, the both of you would be back in your dorm and just watching class through one of the cameras as you played videogames together.

Honestly, he was more than a little amused that you had adapted to the gamer-tag he gave you like your own name. Of course, it was no mistake that he chose the gamer-tag HellKitty for you. It was both a play on your ever faithful companion Grim the Hellcat, and the fact that Hellcats were ideal companions for Shinigami. As a Shinigami, why wouldn't he want you to be his Hellcat? Sure, you weren't actually a Hellcat, but you were raising one and that was good enough for him.

"-Idia? Idia!"

"What?"

"Were you even listening to me?"

"... would you believe me if I said yes?"

You sighed and stopped in the middle of the hallway, turning to face the tall student head-on. Naturally, the moment you stopped, Idia was quick to crouch and curl in on himself, wanting to seem as small as possible despite his already gargantuan stature. Only his own ancestor and the Kelpie Trey were taller than him, though not by much. This gave you the ideal opportunity to put your plan in motion.

While Idia was distractedly staring at his tablet, you reached up and cupped his cheek. The physical contact had the Shinigami looking at you with wide and confused eyes, his hair beginning to burn almost white in anxiety. Out of all the things Idia was expecting when you placed your hand upon his cheek, he was immediately error-screened when you pressed a warm kiss against his blue lips.

Could this possibly be happening? To someone like him? Was it even true, or was it a trick? If it was a trick, he never wanted to know because all he could think was how wonderful your lips felt against his somewhat chapped lips.

As you pulled away, Idia was finally able to get somewhat of a grasp on his own frantic mind only to realize he no longer has his tablet in hand. A quick glance around told him that you had his tablet held securely in your hands, grinning at him playfully.

"Alright, UnderworldBlues, if you can get through class without freaking out, I'll give you the tablet back, and maybe even another kiss if you behave. Think you can do that?"

"..."

"Idia?"

"..."

"Did you seriously just faint-?"

~~

You sat on the arm of the thorn throne of Diasomnia, the common room occupied only by yourself, Lilia, and Malleus. Silver and Sebek had classes, so they were not present despite the unusual temper Malleus had as of late. Lilia suggested the two of you should spend some of your down time with Malleus to try and lift his dour emotions from where they seemed to be stuck for the past few days. As Lilia was a trusted friend of yours and Malleus was a strong ally, you figured there was no harm in spending time with the two Fae monsters.

Malleus had calmed considerably with you and Lilia by his side, holding his dark torch-like staff in his gloved claws. He now almost seemed to be dozing somewhat, even as you glanced at the staff resting against his leg. Somewhere, you wondered how easy it would be to distract the Dragon and escape with the clearly important item, if only to break up the monotony of the moment.

Idle hands were the devil's playthings and you were certainly more than a little bored perched next to the Dragon.

"Did you need something, my (Y/n)?"

"Hm?"

"You keep glancing in my direction as if you need to say something or would like some kind of assistance from me."

"Not really. I was just wondering why you have that staff? I thought you didn't have a magestone weapon since you're a Dragon?"

"It is true, I have very little use for a magestone myself, so you have likely never seen it before. This staff is my magestone, you are correct. You are also correct in assuming I have little use for weapons. My fire and my claws are my weapons, most times."

"So, it wouldn't be a big deal if someone took it away, like it was for Leona?"

"Of course not. Strong and versed in magic as Kingscholar may be, he still does not have the same adeptness in-"

The green eyes of the Dragon widened in surprise as you leaned over, catching his lips in a tender kiss that left him breathless. Despite all of his power and his abilities, he was rendered mute and dumb from the sudden show of affection. He didn't resist the pull of his staff from his hand even as you pulled back to grin triumphantly. In fact, he didn't seem to have much of a reaction other than a vaguely humored grin.

Though it was quite a small expression on the outside, Lilia could see how Malleus prepared to pounce from the tension in the Dragon's shoulders, wings, and tail. You were far too interested in the staff that now sat in your hands- examining the green gemstone affixed in the top- to realize that the Dragon was not about to let such a small show of affection satisfy his sudden cravings. A sudden tug at the front of your shirt had you locking lips with the Dragon yet again, being pulled into the lap of the beast who seemed all too eager to take what had been offered.

"T-Tsuno-!"

"Hush now, my dear mate. You should know better than to tease a Dragon. Didn't you know that even one little kiss is considered enough invitation to mate?"

"But I-"

"You," he interrupted, "will not be going anywhere for the next few days. I intend to christen this- our first day as official mates- with many sleepless nights spent entangled in the embrace of passion. Prepare yourself, my soft little Human mate, because you may regret teasing me so callously."

[nczennie]

angel is the centerfold.

Pairing: Reader x Ateez's Yunho AU: Exes, Nonidol Genre: Smut (18+ only) Preview: "You never would've imagined she'd be doing something like this, right?" Wooyoung asks trying to divert from the fact that he and San had looked at you. Yunho purses his lips and closes the magazine, eyes twitching as he tries his hardest not to glance down at it. "It is very surprising," he mumbles recalling when you both dated. Words: 3.8k *warnings under cut

Warnings: Protected penetrative sex- vaginal and anal, ass play, spitting, cum eating

Yunho stares at the small clock in the corner of his computer, blinking slowly as he waits for it to hit 5:00pm. He usually doesn't mind his office job, but it's Friday evening and his eyes are burning from staring at the bright screen all week.

All he wants now is to get home and order some takeout to enjoy with a cold beer while he hops on a game with Yeosang.

But when he finally enters his home, he frowns at the sight of two of his friends making themselves comfortable on his couch.

"Finally!" Wooyoung calls out throwing his head back causing Yunho to roll his eyes as he sets his stuff down, "There was traffic." He grumbles suddenly regretting his decision to give all his friends keys to his apartment when he was feeling sentimental about moving out after university.

Yunho takes a seat beside his friends on his couch ignoring them in favor of looking at the takeout menu on his phone. But sensing Wooyoung's stare he looks up, feeling uneasy with the smug smile on his face. "What?" He asks blankly causing Wooyoung to laugh so he looks to his other friend, San, who has a bit of a frown on his lips.

"You'll never guess what San stumbled across today." He smirks and Yunho's interest is peaked, placing his phone down to give them his full attention. Wooyoung nods towards San who sighs.

"Look I don't want your judgment, just focus on the main point, okay?" San defends sitting up and Wooyoung only laughs louder. San continues, "I was on my lunch break, and I was intrigued by this magazine-"

Wooyoung laughs louder, San blushes, and Yunho stares confused, waiting for the point. "Anyways I bought the magazine, and I was looking through it and found someone I recognized."

"What kind of magazine was it?" Wooyung teases and San shakes his head, "It was a dirty magazine, alright. Don't act like you don't fucking watch porn every night, I can hear you know." Wooyoung mouth forms a straight, unamused line, "Don't bring me into this."

San ignores him, reaching to grab the magazine and hand it to Yunho, "You should see who's in it, right in the middle."

Yunho grabs the magazine suddenly intrigued, flipping along to find the middle. Who could it be, an old teacher, someone they grew up with?

But as he finds the middle, opening up the magazine to look his heart drops to see it was someone he recognizes very well. It was you.

His face turns red as he takes in the pictures, you were shirtless, your breasts on display for all to see, only a pair of skimpy underwear and some socks covering you up. Your hair and makeup were glowy and flawless as you gave the camera a sultry look, mouth slightly parted.

"Angel is the centerfold," Wooyoung smirks, and Yunho is suddenly brought to the reality that his friends saw you like this.

"You both looked at this?" He glares at them, and they seem stuck. "I bought the magazine, of course, I looked at it!" San defends himself and Wooyoung joins, "And when he saw her, he had to show me to see if it was really her."

Yunho's dark look only stays as he tries to comprehend the fact that his friends saw his ex-once innocent- girlfriend practically naked. He remembers Seonghwa once accidentally walked in on you changing and he tackled him to the ground.

"You never would've imagined she'd be doing something like this, right?" Wooyoung asks trying to divert from the fact that he and San had looked at you. Yunho purses his lips and closes the magazine, eyes twitching as he tries his hardest not to glance down at it. "It is very surprising," he mumbles recalling when you both dated it took months before either of you were comfortable to take your shirts off in front of each other.

There's a beat of silence and Wooyoung sighs feeling the tension in the air after showing Yunho, "Well we best be going, just wanted to show you." He motions towards the magazine as he stands up. San follows as Yunho sighs, "Yeah thanks I guess."

The tall boy looks up confused from the couch as he realizes San still stands in front of him despite Wooyoung walking to the door. "Um, can I have my magazine?" He murmurs shyly and Yunho forgets he has to send this picture of you home with his friends. "Don't worry, he'll skip over her page when he's tugging himself off later." Wooyoung calls from the door and Yunho only glares up at San who turns red.

Yunho stands and shoves the magazine back into San's arms who quickly rushes out the door. He can still hear Wooyoung's loud laugh even after they close the door.

He's had his takeout, his cold beer, and has at this point won several rounds of his game. But now lying in bed there's still a thought nagging in the back of his mind.

With a huff he grabs his phone off the nightstand, squinting at the brightness in his dark room before opening the Instagram app. You had never had social media before, but he figured it was worth checking. Although his heart raced at the possibility that your profile was full of pictures similar to one, he saw earlier.

After searching for a few minutes, he finds you. It's a private profile but he recognizes your smile in the profile picture. You look happy standing on what looks like a beach behind you.

You and Yunho dated for years back in university. The both of you growing and blossoming together. Being shy and inexperienced in the world of dating, you both learned a lot from each other. Romantically, emotionally, sexually...

Therefore, Yunho can't help but be surprised to see you posing in such a way for all to see when he was the first to ever see you in such a way.

After minutes of contemplating, he pushes the follow request button before tossing his phone away from him. It's not like you ended on bad terms. You both just simply grew apart as you grew up. So it couldn't be that strange for him to follow you, right?

But Yunho pushes the thought out of his mind, not allowing himself to look at his phone any longer until morning.

It's late the next morning when the notification he was waiting for finally graces his phone. Not only had you accepted his follow request, but you requested to follow him back. His heart beats expectedly as he pushes to see your profile.

To his relief, or dismay? He isn't quite sure.

There are no such posts that resemble that of the magazine. Most of them are of your travels and he carefully makes his way through each one.

Yunho stays staring at your profile as he contemplates whether or not he should message you. What would he even say? My friends showed me your picture in a dirty magazine and now I can't stop thinking about you and all the things we used to do together. Probably a bit too much, so he settles for letting you follow him back as well.

A week later he sees you post to your story. A picture of you and a friend out to drink at a bar he recognizes being downtown. His thumb hesitates but eventually pushes the like button and focuses on his friend's conversation once more.

Later that night he's comfortably lounging on the couch when he gets a notification from Instagram. He sits up straighter when he sees you've sent him a direct message.

His throat feels dry as he quickly opens it. What if it was a mistake? You had been drinking tonight as he could see from your story. But the message is simple.

Yunho :) how are you?

He can't help but smile and he replies quickly not even thinking how it might seem desperate.

But alas that is how he spent the rest of the night, and the whole weekend talking and catching up with you. It was so nice he even almost forgot about your picture in the magazine. Almost.

It's the next weekend and you and Yunho just got back from a lovely date. He took you for ice cream after work and you thought it was cute he recreated your old first date all those years ago.

However, you are both older now so when Yunho asked if you wanted to come back to his place to...have a drink, you agreed.

"The view is amazing," You state in awe as you walk over to the large windows that overlooks the city. Yunho smiles from where he's lighting some candles, "I guess the office job pays off once in a while."

He moves towards the kitchen to pour you both a drink and you enjoy the view for a moment longer before joining him. "You saw one of my pictures, didn't you?"

Yunho's hand twitches and he accidentally spills the whisky which causes a giggle to grace your lips. He feels his ears start to burn as he grabs a towel to clean his mess. "Um," he starts but falls quiet. "From the magazine." You state again as if you couldn't tell he was just embarrassed rather than unsure.

A smile lingers on your face as you take the glass he hands you and take a sip from his own. "I did, yeah. Actually, it was San and Wooyoung who saw and showed me."

He watches as your mouth parts slightly before you let out a laugh. Bring the glass to your lips, and you clear your throat after taking a sip. "I guess that's pretty awkward." He can't help but smile softly at you, "I mean they were pretty amused." A blush rises to your cheeks as you shake your head with a shy smile.

"How did you know? That I saw, I mean." Yunho states and you look up at him once again. "This wouldn't be the first time someone from my past found me on social media after seeing my pictures." You chuckle, "Guys from high school, university, hell even my physics professor reached out after seeing." He frowns both from hearing about the weird professor and because he feels a bit chummy about doing the same as all these others reaching out to you.

Seeing his reaction you speak again, "But of course I've never replied to their messages and advances. I've blocked almost all of them too." You take another sip and he feels a bit more comfortable.

"So how exactly did you start doing this? I don't exactly recall this being related to your major." He teases slightly and you laugh softly. "When I moved after graduation, my roommate suggested I go for an audition where she worked too. It wasn't supposed to be permanent, just to help with money while I was searching for jobs."

"But the money ended up being amazing. Now a couple years later and I still enjoy it." You shrug, "I won't do it forever, but for now I can live comfortably and travel lots. So it works out." You explain and he nods listening intently.

The sips of whisky are starting to set in, so he speaks again, "And you messaged me. What makes me different than all those other guys searching for you after seeing your pictures?"

You look up at him, eyes dancing over his face before you smile, "Because you're Yunho. We loved each other once."

His tongue comes out to wet his lips as he stares back down at you.

"Fuck, there you go."

Yunho groans letting his eyes close for a moment before he forces them open once more, not wanting to miss the sinful way you take his cock in your mouth. You're on your knees between his legs as he sits on his bed. Wearing nothing but your white panties and a pair of frilly socks that looked cute with your outfit, but now looks identical to your outfit in the magazine.

His mouth parts with a shaky breath as you take him particularly deep. You were never quite able to take in all of his size, but you always worked your hand diligently around what you couldn't fit.

Your glazed eyes looked up at him as if seeking his reactions. His large hand reaches down to move some of the hair falling onto your face, not wanting it to reach the spit and drool leaking from your mouth.

It's with a hollow of your cheeks and a swipe of your tongue that Yunho has to pull you off of him for fear of finishing too early. He pulls you off with a pop and messily connects his mouth with yours, his tongue parting the string of spit that still connected your mouth to his cock.

His large hands reach down to grasp at your waist and pull you to sit beside him on the bed. Yunho still kisses you deeply, tongue reaching every part of your mouth.

Eventually, he breaks to leave wet kisses down your jaw to your neck as you both catch your breath. Goosebumps rise to your skin as his left-hand ghosts over your stomach before reaching into your panties. A small gasp leaves your lips as he immediately connects with your clit, rubbing slow circles to match the pace of his kisses.

"Yunho," you whine, hips twitching up as he lowers his hand, one of his long fingers slipping into your hole with your wetness. He hums against your neck as you clench around him.

He adds another finger to your heat as he nibbles playfully at your jaw, "My baby's so tight." You can only grip his sheets between your fingers as he continues to stretch you out for him slowly.

Without warning he removes his fingers from you and reaches for your panties to take off. Pulling them down your legs as he pushes you further onto the bed. "Turn around for me, baby, wanna taste you." Yunho says in his deep voice and you whimper as you flip yourself.

You get yourself comfortable on your knees, leaning forward to rest on your forearms as Yunho climbs onto the mattress behind you. You can't help but bite your lip and close your eyes as Yunho's warm hands find their place on your ass. Massaging you roughly before you feel the warmth of his breath on you.

Shuddering out a moan as his tongue makes contact with your core, you feel as he hums in response. He uses his hands to spread you for him, taking a second to spit straight on your cunt, adding to your wetness and watching it drip before he goes straight in to slurp it up.

Forgetting just how messy Yunho likes to get while eating you out, you find yourself getting breathless from moaning in this position. The feeling of his tongue and lips moving against you, obviously loving it just as much as you as you feel him push his face against you.

You mull as he lets his tongue wander upwards, circling around your ass, causing you to jerk. He lets his tongue play there before moving to your cunt once more. Yunho has always been into ass play but while the two of dated, you never went farther than his tongue or fingertips gracing over you.

He pulls away with a slap to your ass and you whine causing him to chuckle as he reaches for his nightstand. Grabbing a condom and placing it on himself as quickly as possible.

"C'mon, Yunho, please." You attempt to move your hips backward to meet him as he teases his cock along your folds but never quite pushes himself fully in. He tsks, "Needy baby." He mumbles before finally pushing his tip into your waiting hole.

"Fuck, so big." You whine as he continues to push fully inside of you. A sound of pleasure rumbles in his chest as his pelvis pushes flat against your ass. Both of you take a moment to adjust before he starts moving his hips steadily.

One of Yunho's large hands comes to grab at your hip, helping keep his pace steady as he pounds his cock into you at a more rapid pace. Tiny sounds of pleasure leave your lips as he rocks into, "You feel so good around me baby, I've missed this." Yuhno claims breathlessly.

Suddenly you have a desire that causes you to bite your lip. You reach one of your hands up behind you, keeping your balance as you bring your hand to where you and Yunho meet. "Yeah," He groans breathlessly as he watches two of your fingers spread over where his cock is splitting you open.

Seconds later you move those same fingers upwards towards your less occupied hole, running your fingers over it as you speak up to Yunho. "You can go here." You say the best you can.

His hips stutter before he stills completely, "What?" He asks, not quite sure if the sex is making him hallucinate. A giggle escapes your lips at his reaction. "You can put it in my ass, Yunho." You say bluntly which causes Yunho to blush despite the fact that his cock remains in your cunt.

"Really?" He tries not to sound too excited as you do your best to look at him from your bent-over position. "Yes, but go slow, please. I haven't had something as big as you are yet." A shudder rakes over him at your words and he has to close his eyes for a second before continuing. "Alright," he speaks but starts to move his hips to fuck you once more.

His pace is slower now as he focuses on the new territory in front of him. Using both of his hands to spread you open for him, he spits directly into your unused hole. Taking one of the fingers to spread it diligently before pushing said finger in.

It causes both of your eyes to close, Yunho's heart pounding as he feels the tightness of you. His hips start to move quicker as he moves his finger more comfortably, moving to fit a second one not long after.

Having enough, he pulls his fingers from your ass before spitting twice more onto the hole. Taking his cock out of you, he leans forwards to run his tongue over your ass once more. Licking and spitting in ways that have whining.

With a shaky breath, he brings himself straight, taking his covered cock in his hand, lining the tip up to you. "Fuck," He whispers merely at the sight, breathing in before he pushes into you.

He can feel you tense right away but a moan rips from your throat at the stretch. True to his word, he moves slowly, unable to move his eyes from the sight of his cock entering you in a place he only ever dreamed of.

Once he's finally as far as he can get, he pauses, for you but as well as for him. He has to close his eyes and breathe deeply to stop himself from cumming right then and there.

"So good, so full. Yunho, you're so big," You whine to him which causes him to throw his head back with a groan. You always did know how to stroke his ego.

Yunho licks his lips when he decides it is safe to move, moving his hips slowly to start to fuck you once again. His pace isn't as fast as earlier, but you both enjoy this slower pace in new territory. He lets his hands grip tightly onto your ass, massaging you roughly as he continues.

Eventually a soft, "My neck hurts," breaks from your mouth in between moans which causes him to stop. With a smile, he pulls out and helps you readjust to a more comfortable position on your back.

You pull him close with a smile and your arms around his neck. He smiles smugly above you, one hand holding your thigh around his waist and the other taking his cock to insert himself into your ass once again.

This time you both can see the way each other's mouth drops and eyes flutter at the feeling of being connected. Yunho leans further down, chest brushing yours as his hips regain a rhythm. There's moaning and kissing and licking into each other as he fucks you until you at last let him know you weren't far from cumming.

At your words, Yunho hoists himself up and moves one of his hands to rub at your clit. Your moans become whinier as your stomach tightens. He stops his assault on your clit before taking two of his fingers and pushing them into your empty cunt. He thrusts quickly matching the pace of his hips, your wetness causing the room to fill the room with lewd sounds. Your breath quickens and you bring your hand to his forearm, desperate to grab at anything.

The pleasure he brings you washes over you like a waterfall and leaves you twitching. You whine as he removes his fingers from your now-soaked cunt and slows the paces of his cock.

Blinking your eyes open you see him smirking down at you, "Does my baby feel good, hm?" He asks deeply and you nod.

"I'm gonna cum soon, do you think you can sit up for me?" He speaks and you agree once more. Yunho moves his hips quickly once again, fucking his cock into your ass once last time until he's groaning and breathing deeply.

"Fuck," he finally breaths and pulls out of you, carefully helping you sit up before he removes the condom from his cock. You look up at him, mouth slightly parted, looking at him with a sultry look, breasts on display for him.

Looking suspiciously like the picture he saw of you in San's magazine.

Yunho jerks himself quickly eyes jumping from your face to your body. "My pretty baby." He says breathlessly, "Gonna cum on you, gonna mark you as mine." He mumbles with a groan before his cum starts to spurt. He aims his cock at your breasts and you move to cup them. Fingers running over your hard nipples causing him to groan further as he finishes on you.

"All yours." You speak to him, keeping eye contact as you swipe a drop of him from your breasts and suck it into your mouth.

"Fuck," his cock twitches as you smirk at him causing his lips to quirk, "You're driving me crazy."

Copyright © 2024 by nczennie. All rights reserved.

🌼 All feedback is appreciated and welcomed 🌼

[twistedpink]

How about flustered!jade? Love your writing!

Cute!!

Jade that starts perfectly obvious (at your request) with his affections for you, even blushing a pretty ruby red when you catch him off guard, until you mess up in alchemy with a transformation potion..

Jade doesn’t make it a habit of becoming flustered (or at least that’s what he tells himself) but imagine him being completely straight faced, his prefect starts teasing him about a blush that’s not there- and suddenly his face warming up! He’s been duped! The only reasonable course of action is to speed walk away, lest his secret be revealed :)

Flustered!Jade that starts to cover his face more after the potion, and considers wearing a turtle neck under his uniform because he blushes full body,, even if it’s only his inner circle that can tell, he actually gets a little shy around you, worried about what you’ll think of him now. He keeps telling himself it’s only for a week. Then he can go back to being “normal” .

Flustered!Jade that’s sooooo obvious to Floyd and Azul (literally nobody else can tell) and the two of them mention you as “motivation” all the time

“don’t be upset, I’ll even arrange an evening with your beau :)”

“heyyyy where’s shrimpy at? Home? You’ve gotta tell them eventually, or I will”

Flustered!Jade hates that you of all people can see the truth behind his facade. Have you always been especially perceptive, or is this some kind of trick you’re pulling? Interesting,, that hunter’s been giving you lessons? Poor Jade, now he’s worried about everyone he talks to (even the idiots) figuring out his “grand secret”

But the prefect doesn’t like that they can’t read their fishy friend anymore, so they engage project “make Jade fall so madly in love he can’t hide it! (Yknow, whatever the hell he’s hiding)” and by god does it work. Pinning him up against walls (to the best of your ability) , pulling him down to cuddle without warning, and even giving light tugs to his hair- Jade falls hook line and sinker. If there’s even an inkling you like him more than he thought, then he can’t avoid you anymore,,

Flustered!Jade that takes the invitation to get more physical with you, and your plan to keep “normal” Jade around is totally backfiring. At this point you’re convinced that nothing can surprise him anymore. It’s time to bring out the big guns. (He’s counting down the days until this stupid potion is out of his system)

Flustered!Jade that finally blushes a bright blue when you confess- and you’d do anything to see him like that again!! But, Jade is slippery, and gets all his “blushing and thinking about yuu” time out of the way the entire time the potion is in effect. Once it wears off you’re only sad you couldn’t take pictures, so I hope you’re good at brewing for your next photo dump! (All is fair in love and war) <33

I literally wrote this under the assumption eels had blue blood,, I might be really wrong but it’s also a magic anime school so it’s something something blue potion now

[sunnyangy]

Can you maybe do hcs for togame and umemiya. Like general relationship hcs, how they came to like y/n, how they are in a relationship kind of thing and maybe nsfw hcs too

of course ! hope you’ll like it, and don’t hesitate to tell me if it’s ooc, i’ll change it :) I already did Umemiya NSFW hdc, but i’ll make another post for Togame’s NSFW hdc !

——————————————•

Relationship Headcanons 🍃

- Umemiya, Togame

- Umemiya 🌱

• The first time he saw you, was when Sakura had brought you up to his office. It was unusual to have a girl in this school, so when you started asking him too much advice, he got fed up and brought you to the leader, the famous Umemiya.

• He was since the start a sweetheart to you, greeting you with his usual bright smile. You seemed quite surprised to see that the leader was a man like this, with dirt on his shirt and gardening gloves. Of course, the first thing he did was showing you his tomatoes.

• But when you seemed to be interested in it, and to have some knowledge about it, he was like stunned in place, holding the tomatoes in his hands. He was probably as red as them.

• You then used to go to his office at lunch to talk with him about plants, share advice, and garden together. Every day, he waited for lunch more and more. He quickly realized he was more excited about seeing you than talking about the summer barbecue. His heart was pounding whenever you knocked on the door, the butterflies in his stomach flying around as he went to greet you.

• After around 3 months, one day you were as usual watering the plants, before putting back some soil. As you were filling your bucket up, you felt arms go around your waist, his body gently pressing against your back, his chin on your shoulder. It felt natural at this point, you just smiled and blushed at his contact. But what he said did in fact surprise you, as he said it with no warning whatsoever.

« I love you, y/n. »

You froze for a second, before setting your bucket down and turning towards him. Your answer was to put your hands on his cheeks, and kissing him.

• Since then, you two never leave each other.

• Umemiya’s love language is physical touch, he can’t resist just holding you in any type of way, even if it means touching your feet with his under the table if you’re in a group. He will always have an arm around you, a hand on yours, on your thigh, and if he can, he will always be kissing you in some type of way. On your lips, your cheeks, your temple, your forehead, your shoulder, whatever, as long as he can kiss you. He’ll always be hugging you and cuddling you, even if it’s not the time or place.

• He also comes to your house uninvited often, usually to gift you things or just to talk. He doesn’t mind if you do the same, but he takes the initiative way more.

• He is always very protective of you, he is sometimes reluctant to let you out on patrol, he’d rather you doing the not dangerous jobs like painting over graffiti’s.

• He likes to takes you out on dates often, bringing you to bars, restaurants, swimming pool, wherever you can have fun together.

• With you, he lets out his weirder side. He’s so energetic, always jumping around and smiling, always making jokes and annoying you teasingly.

• Of course, he loves PDA. He loves to show people that this beautiful girl right here is HIS, and that he is YOURS. All the school knows you’re the leader’s partner, everyone respects you and protects you.

• You’re the only one she shares his concern and bad emotions with, his past and what annoys him. You always try to give him a solution as well as calming him down, and you always succeed.

• Just like he says « Ko - to - ha ! », he will always come to you like this, chanting your name as he shows you something on his phone.

• Overall is the most golden retriever boyfriend ever, always clinging onto you, teasing you with a big smile on his face.

—————————————•

- Togame 🦁

• You’re not part of Shishitoren, as you are just a student working in a convenience store after school to pay your studies. And this store happens to be the one closer to the Shishitoren’s place, the abandoned cinema.

• They always came in groups, and you were kind of scared of them but always tried to stay polite and oblige their demands. But once, someone came alone, which was rather unusual. He was not wearing the orange vest, but you recognized him. A tall man dressing in a traditional kimono and wooden shoes, with yellow glasses and his black hair in a braid.

• He came back everyday, without his vest, buying drinks and snacks. At first he was always quiet, but after a while he started talking to you. Telling you Hi, how are you, talking about things like the weather or whatever was going on the city, just trying to make conversation. One day, as he was leaving, he turned back to you, and spoke.

« By the way, my name’s Jo Togame. Nice to meet you »

And before you even had the chance to answer, he waved you bye and left.

• After a month, he was once again at your counter, and bought a card. But when he left, he didn’t take the card. You tried to run after him to give it, but he already disappeared. You sighed and went back at your counter, putting the card on your desk. But when it slightly opened, you saw there was written something.

« If you want, you can meet me tomorrow at the new cinema at 8pm. I’ll let you choose the movie »

Even if he never told you personnaly, you knew he was part of the Shishitoren, so you were quite scared, but you judged that there was less chances to get beat up if you accepted his advances than refused. So you went. And it was the greatest date of your life. He was gentle and all throughout the night, bought you snacks, even taking you to the restaurant after the movie.

• For months, you two learned to know each other, before one day, he finally spilled it out.

« Hey y/n.. um.. I.. fuck you know what, I’m just going to say it. I’m part of the Shishitoren. »

You looked at his green eyes, slightly laughing. He was clearly confused on why you laughed, but you simply answered

« I know, Jo. »

• Since then you two grew close to each other naturally, he didn’t even ask you out. You just went onto dates, met each other after your shift, even before, and met on weekends.

• He loved that you saw him not for his affiliation to a gang but for his own person. You reminded him of Chōji, you reminded him of a sun. And you became his new sun.

• Togame’s love language is acts of service. He will always be doing things for you, making your life easier on whatever he could. He had a bit of trouble with physical touch but learned to appreciate it from you.

• He loves whenever he sits on the floor between your legs as you are on the couch, as you gently brush his hair as you hum a song. He loves the feeling of you braiding his hair, running your hands on his nape and shoulders.

• He likes gentle kisses filled with love, as it’s a rare time when he actually fully touches you, his hands on your hips pulling you close.

• He likes to tease you, pull some pranks on you, always laughing after. And you could never stay mad at him, his smile way too rare to ignore.

• He is REALLY protective of you, no one better lay a finger on you. He is also very possessive and jealous, you have to calm him down sometimes if even just a customer talks to you.

• He has trouble talking about his emotions but you always help him, he feels comfortable enough to talk to you about his worries. Sometimes, he’ll end up crying in your arms about how he felt guilty that he couldn’t help Chōji. The sight of him crying is rare, but it’s heartbreaking.

• He is overall a calm and supportive boyfriend, who loves to do things for you, and love when you help back. Other guys must beware, as he knows how to show his fangs if someone even approaches you.

[fl3shm4id3n]

ʀᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴜʀᴘʟᴇ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬, 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧. 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴛʜᴀɴᴏꜱ (ᴄʜᴏɪ ꜱᴇᴜɴɢ-ʜʏᴜɴ) x ꜰᴇᴍ! ꜱɪɴɢᴇʀ/ʀᴀᴘᴘᴇʀ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: Squid Game 2 SPOILERS, smoking, slut shaming, criticism from the public, death, blood, Thanos having the hots for reader, reader is kinda based on Megan Thee Stallion.

A/N: I've been listening to Megan Thee Stallion and Doja Cat again, I got some inspiration.

Masterlist

You were know as the infamous rapper 'Cherry' due that signature bright red color you wore all the time. You were at your golden age, everyone loved you. Specially young women your age, probably due because you sang songs about women struggles and anything involving women. Everywhere you went, you got recognized. You asked to take photos, sign pictures and other kinds of merch that your fans had in hand. You didn't mind, you loved your fans. They were the reason you became famous in the first place.

But then, you began to get criticized, according to a much older audience you were vulgar and not very lady like. They also criticized your music and how it was a bad influence to the younger generation. Not to mention your music videos. They criticized those too, simply because you wore very provocative outfits and danced inappropriately. The final straw was when you were spotted smoking cigarettes outside a night club. You got criticized even more. You even got slut shamed for it. You didn't understand the hate you got, you wondered if you were a man, would they still treat you the same?

You began to loose deals, no one really wanted to work with you. Scared about their reputation, you understood their explanation. It just sucked that you couldn't do what you really love. At some point, you had considered in no longer making music. But your fans had encouraged you to keep doing music, some even suggested you move to the States. You thought about it for a while now. Moving to the States wasn't so bad, you knew they weren't as critical as they were here. So you've made up your mind and decided to move to the US. But there was a problem, you barely had any money. That was going to be a problem, and your savings weren't going to cover the expenses. You needed money and needed it fast.

So, here you were. Dressed in a green tracksuit with the number '013'. You were told you'll be playing some games and get a huge amount of cash. There was a lot of people, were they here for the money too? Interesting. You were explained the rules and even signed a consent form and all that. While you were getting escorted to the first game, but first you had to get your picture taken. As you waited in line, you noticed a group of people huddling over a guy with purple hair. You knew right away who it was, it was the one and only Thanos. You were a huge fan of his, you had wanted to do a collaboration with him at some point.

"Omg, is that Cherry?!" Someone said, making everyone in that small group turn to look at you. "It is!" Someone else chimed in. Then they began to try and get you to go over to take a picture. Even Thanos chimed in. "Hey, I don't mind one more person, come on." He encouraged, before you could say anything, the guard came over and had told the group that they couldn't take picture that way, they had to be individual. No matter how much they begged to make an exception. The guard said no, Thanos then told that after the games, he'll take pictures with all of them. They all agreed and processed to get in line to get their pictures taken. When it was your turn, you made sure your hair was descent then processed to do your signature pose. You wondered if you could get your picture printed.

As you continued to walk to the destination of the game. A girl behind you, better known as player 196. "You're Cherry right?" She asked. "The one and only." You responded, she kind of squealed in excitement. "OMG, I always wanted to meet you in person. I've been to every single concert of yours!" She said, you couldn't help but smile and chuckle. "You have?" She asked. "Of course. I love your album RED, I listen to it 24/7." She explained excitedly. "I wish I had my phone so I can take a picture with you. Maybe even follow each other on Instagram." She said, still very excited to be right next to her idol.

Once outside, you and player 196 were still right next to each other. You had a feeling that she'd be stuck with you for the rest of the games, you didn't mind. "Hey, Señorita." You heard someone say behind you. You and player 196 turn to see who it was. It was the one and only Thanos. "Don't you know who I am?" He asked, while walking along side you and 196. "Do we have to?" She asked. "I do. Thanos The Mad Titan." You responded, making Thanos smile. "Das right. We can get to know each other. Tell me about yourself." He said, directly at you. "Are you hitting on me?" You couldn't help but asked. "Oh yeah, he definitely is." 196 said in response.

"In the sea of faces, you caught my eye. My beauty, my flower blooming among weeds." He paused as he sang to catch his breath. "Red, orange, yellow, green. I'm a legend Thanos." He finished as he did his very known pose. You and 196 listened and watched as he continued to small rap. "Look at us in this blue-green. Now give me the green light." He paused, then look directly at you. "I like you!" He said, as he did the heart with his pointer finger and thumb, then wiggled his eye brow at you. You couldn't help but chuckle and feel your face heat up. "Do you even know who she is?" 196 asked. "Of course I do. The one and only Cherry." He said, but then he continued. "'I'd rather be a B.I.T.C.H 'cause that's what you gon' call me when I'm trippin' anyway'. Real Hot Girl Shit, Ah! " He finish his sentence with a quote from one of your songs and your catch phrase, as he then posed just like you did earlier in your picture. Making you chuckle. "I never thought thee Thanos listens to my music." You responded. "Of course I do. I know talent when I see it." He said. "Ya know, red really is your color. That lipstick suits you well." He said confidently. You couldn't help but smile at him.

Then the game rules were explained. It was green light, red light. It should be easy right. Then a guy began to yell and scream on what to do and what not to do. Who even was he. When the game started, he continued to yell and tell everyone not to move. "Freeze! Nobody move!" He yelled. You, Thanos and 196 stood still near each other. "Is he high or what?" 196 asked. "Nope. No one is like that when they're high." Thanos added. "Then he must be drunk or off his meds." You also added. You then heard a small bug fly by. You followed it with your eyes and noticed how it landed right on player 196. "What's that?" She asked, still not moving. "He knows you're a flower. There's a bee on you." Thanos teased. "A bee?!" She then began to freak out an move like crazy. You remained still, just watching her.

She stopped then turn to look at you and Thanos. "Crap, I just moved." She said as she chuckled. Then a gunshot was heard, followed by 196 getting her brains blown and falling right in front of you. Both you and Thanos got splattered in her blood and some brain matter. Even at that, you still remained frozen. Your eyes shifted to look down at her, seen a huge bullet wound on her forehead along with blood. The bee had come back and landed onto her cheek. The man yelled again. "Do not move!" He warned. You were frozen, you just witnessed someone getting shot. You wanted to scream, but you didn't. You feared that if you moved, you'd be next. Then people began screaming and running. Gun shots were heard and people were getting shot. Despite that, you still didn't move. You didn't want to die like this.

For the remainder of the game, you followed the guys instructions. It was obvious that you were scared, but you kept on going. You threw yourself across the finish line. Relieved that you were alive.

Back at the lobby, you were sitting on the floor near your bunk. Still breathing heavily, your hands were shaking. You were also slightly biting your extra long stiletto red nail on your pointer finger, nervously. You felt yourself slightly gag, you then covered your mouth with your hand. Feeling sick. Nothing came out, but your stomach was turning. You didn't even notice Thanos sitting next to you. "You okay?" He asked. You then uncovered your mouth. "I'm good, no worries." You said, still shaky. Thanos noticed and took your hand into his. Giving them small rubs and trying to ease your nerves. His hand were pretty warm and felt very comforting. You were more calm by his small kind gesture.

A bit letter, the same man began to argue with the pink men. Asking about the votes and all that. You weren't focus on any of that, you were more focus on what the hell you jus witnessed. The image of that girl was engraved in your head. You sure needed therapy after this. When the pink showed the amount of money in the piggy bank, your eyes were glued to the clear piggy. Seen that much money all together. Made your worries go away. All that money could help you get to the States and more. When you heard the more eliminated players, more money will be added. Was it bad that you wanted to stay for more? Who care if people will die, they're fucked from the get go. They'd either die here or out there.

When it came to the voting, a lot of people voted to stay. There was arguing with that guy. Claiming he played these games before. But no one really cared, people chose to stay and play. When it was your turn, you pressed O and given the O velcro patch to put on your jacket. When you headed to the O side, Thanos and some guy stood right next to you. "Good choice Señorita." He said with a goofy smile. "I need to the money, so. Either I get it here or I go back home empty handed." You simply said, almost cold. Thanos nodded his head, then wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him. "Just stick with me, I'll protect you." He said, very confident. He then leaned down and literally licked the blood off your cheek. You groaned, but didn't mind. You couldn't help but chuckle by his action.

"You a freak or something?" You asked, while you wiped the saliva off your cheek with the jacket sleeve. "Baby, I'll be whatever you want me to be." He said, with a smirk while looking directly at you. You couldn't help but slightly bite your red bottom lip. Almost as if you were flirting with him. "I like you, like really like you." He said. "You only just met me today." You added. "Pfft, so? The moment I saw you, I knew I'd like you." He said with a flirtious smile. "Maybe this is fate." You teased. "Ya know, maybe I didn't get all the infinity stones." He said. You raised your brow. "Oh? And why is that?" You asked. "Well, I do have purple, yellow, blue and green. But, there's one missing." He said. "And that one is?" You asked. Thanos then responded. "I just need red. Red is the Reality stone." He said. You tilted your head to side, waiting for him continue. "And Baby, you're my reality." He said with a wink. You couldn't help but roll your eyes and laugh at his corny line. "What? It's true." He said. Maybe being in these life and death games wasn't going to be too bad.

[matchadobo]

KIDD; kiss-proof lipstick review

warning/s: very fluff, fem reader, youtuber/streamer!kidd, shy!s/o, modern au, most nsfw thing could happen is an abrupt makeout

note: based from this -> post, smaller italicized texts are sub-bullets

kidd as a youtuber that normally does metal covers with his band (heat, killer, and wire)

has about a solid following of 100k subs bc they're just so cool

that is until his viewers asked for his makeup tut bc he always looks so bomb

his viewers have also requested fit checks like what he wears in a week

kidd forgot to mention that he has a s/o, which mildly upset a certain demographic who was ahem thirsty for him

you as his gf doesn't really mind if he talks to himself in front of his phone or camera on random times, but he always tells you a quick warning beforehand bc you sometimes appear on the bg of his vids/streamer

i also think that at some point, kidd does game streams bc he's lazy to edit. his fanbase supports any content he does whether it's just yap streams or food streams or band rehearsals

i feel like he always aims for competitive games that are pvp like MK, COD, league, etc. it just feeds his ego, and he enjoys trashtalking 😭 riling his opponent up and all that

it's all so funny, which explains his fanbase that tolerates his insufferable temper and jokes. it takes a certain kind of humor that other people might take as offensive

but the second he got sponsored by a punk make-up line, a pr box arrived at his doorstep bc he rarely checks his emails

he'd ask you to do a makeup stream with him, but you were too shy about it. especially after being the final boss of a certain demographic that is attracted to him 😭 but you never told him that. knowing him, he'll probably flip all of them off and cause drama

he'd start up stream, poorly introducing the products. you laughed to yourself at how bad he was at complimenting or kissing ass to the brand he legit has never heard of😭

kidd knows how to apply his makeup; shadow, liner, and lipstick. he tried on a purple and red shadow combo and his usual full eye liner.

his stream at that point became very chill, his fans loving every bit of his craft and how focused he was doing everything. especially at how he looked like afterward

"now we got- kiss-proof lipstick? they sent me a shit ton of fuckin' shades!" he showed a whole box of liquid lipsticks. laughing at the ridiculous amount.

his fanbase requested a test of the kiss proof on his palm, showing interest in the product

but kidd had different ideas. it might be a good way to hard launch you already.

his ig and twt already had pictures of you during dates, but your face was always hidden most of the time

"a test on my palm? oh boy, i have a better idea for that."

he'd call you, "babe! baby! c'mere a moment, i need ya a bit."

his chat would go: "babe?!?! omg hard launch?!", "omg here is his s/o!", "OH GOD KIDD YOU SLICK CHEEKY FUCK!"

you'd be scared for a bit, but kidd looked really excited. besides you also want to check out his makeup products.

"are we gonna do it together?" you muttered lowly, referring to the review

"kinda." he shrugged. "i just got one lil job for you, you'd love it promise."

you were skeptical at first but oh well. kidd lets you pick the lipstick of your choice, which was a bright red. it always looks good on him.

the chat was highkey going crazy when your body from neck below was showing

they also noticed how kidd started acting differently, he spoke softly and he had this meek smile while looking up at you

he lets you apply it on him. you were now seating with the seat he pulled to let you down. the chat now being able to see you. you waved a hi shyly, and man the view count started going up

twt was already full of you guys 😖

kidd then fanned his lips, waiting for the product to dry.

"ok, what's next?" you asked, popping the lid close

"this." he grabbed the back of your head and kissed you on stream. holding the kiss pretty good in there, smirking through it as he did so, before sucking on your lips open

you were too flustered and frozen but he even had the audacity to angle his head the other way to continue kissing you

it was pretty fucking lewd, he was really getting in there

but you, you melted from his lips and his firm grip on your nape

the chat and stream lagged at the amount of chats and view counts increasing exponentially

once he pulled away after a good 2 minutes, he turned to the screen and said, "so? it really is kiss proof, aye?" he bursted out laughing at your reaction which was the same when he started kissing you 🤣

the chat also went hysterical, both from freaking out with the both of you and your reaction

you honestly didn't mind, you half expected it. it's kidd we're talking about🤣 because kidd did it as a flex and as a fuck you to his haters (especially those who were targeting you)

you had to excuse yourself which resulted to even more comedic response from kidd at how cute you are. you were burning red btw

you later come back to tell kidd and chat that you're okay, and you plan to get back on him for that

JASDHSAJDJSAJDSA I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!! JUST DID THIS LAST NIGHT

[themeraldee]

The Lucky Winner - Part 3

[Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2] | [AO3]

18+ Only | 10k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Early Season 1. Voice kink (very mild mention). Awkward first dates. Awkward dialogue. Messy timeline. Established Relationship. Love confession. Emotional sex. Unhealthy Relationship.

Summary: Your life turns upside down, again, when Homelander reaches out to you asking you out on a date.

Author’s Note: This is set between the events of Part 1 & Part 2. It really is just a self-indulgent excuse to explore some relationship building and dynamics. Lot of awkward dialogue so be warned.

The next time Homelander contacts you it catches you just as off guard as the first time. Maybe even more so. You never expected him to turn up in the first place, let alone be interested in seconds.

Your phone is ringing on the bed and ever since the development from a week ago you’ve been on edge anytime your phone rang. You drop the towel you’re folding back on the pile of unsorted laundry and you nearly dive onto the bed, reaching for your phone. In the panic you drop it about three times, your shaky hands inadvertently playing hot potato.

“Hello?!” You yell into the phone, panicked. You don’t actually end up checking who’s calling, too worried about not accidentally hanging up. Plus it’s not like you could have saved Homelander’s number from a week ago anyway. It showed up as blocked on your phone’s call logs so you had no way to recognise his number.

“Hello there! Nice of you to pick up.” You squeaked in surprise and the voice on the phone turned from chipper to confused. “You okay? You sound a little—” And oh my god, it’s him! You’re talking to Homelander, again. Okay, okay, now it’s time to try and keep calm.

His voice is still gloriously rich and sweet in your ear and here you are about to most likely embarrass yourself again because for the life of you you’re incapable of coming across as calm and collected.

“I’m fine!” You immediately cut him off, your voice shrill and strained. He does not need to know the ins-and-outs of your internal struggle. But either way you’re already doing terribly. Who are you to cut Homelander off mid-sentence? Where are your manners? 

“Why are you—um—I mean, is there anything you need?” You clumsily make your way through your response. Definitely not how you wanted to present yourself but it’s a lot better than barely being able to say a word like last time!

“I’m taking you out on a date. Get ready for 7 today.” You heard it. You’re pretty damn sure you heard that right, yet not a single part of you believes what he said.

“Sorry? W-w-what do you mean?” You sputter in confusion, your brain simply not capable of computing this news. 

“I mean that I’m taking you out for dinner. What’s hard to understand?” He sounds irritated and your heart is pounding. From so many things at once. How are you meant to process that Homelander contacted you again, is asking you out for a date and now you’ve managed to irk him?!

Before you manage to apologize, following your typical spiel, Homelander continues. “Maybe you don’t know this but it’s kind of what men do when they want to get to know someone. You following yet?” 

You ignore the condescending remark and instead you focus on what he’s actually saying.

There may as well be steam coming out of your ears, you genuinely feel like a blushing teenage girl talking to her crush. You’re hot bright red in the face and you feel the literal heat coming off your face.

“Yeah but you’re not—well of course you are—but also you’re not! Y’know, just an average Joe.” How do you go about explaining that you don’t feel worthy of that kind of attention?

“Doesn’t matter, you’re missing the point. Is that a no?” You’d think he would be pissed saying that, who in their right mind would refuse going on a date with Homelander, but he sounds amused more than anything. 

Again with the reading you like a book. Because you barely manage to let out a barrage of “No! No no no no— that’s not!” before Homelander starts laughing.

“Alright, I’ll pick you up then.”

“No, wait! I can’t—I can’t do the public thing. You’re you! And as soon as I show up in public with you I won’t be left alone. I know that’s normal for you, but my life isn’t like that. I’m just… me.” You’re just a nobody. You don’t have a social media presence. You don’t bring attention to yourself. And you like to keep it that way. Going on a public date with America’s golden boy himself? You would be ripped apart by the online vultures. 

You all but freak out on the phone and for a second you think he disconnected because you can’t hear a thing over the line but he suddenly speaks up.

“Oh well. We can’t have that, can we? You better have dinner ready at your place instead.” You don’t need to see him to imagine him with the biggest satisfied grin on his face. “I’ll be there at 7. Catch you later!”

Homelander hangs up on you and you hear the disconnected tone ringing in your ear as you stand there like a fish out of water. Mouth gaping open, letting out disbelieving stutters. 

You pull the phone away from your ear, looking down at it as if it offended you. It’s then you notice the time. Shit shit shit. You have less than four hours to make your place and yourself presentable, go on a grocery run and start cooking for Homelander?! What just happened!

“Oh no no no no. This is not happening.” You rub your hands over your face as if to wipe the shock off your face. You’re so overwhelmed with the rollercoaster of emotions that you don’t know whether to have a panic attack, laugh nervously or downright cry.

Okay, first of all the pile of laundry is gonna have to wait. You don’t have the time to meticulously fold your t-shirts and panties. You gather up the clean and dry laundry into your hands, haphazardly shoving it into the closet before closing the door on what will be an avalanche of laundry for your future self to deal with.

With pure panic-induced energy that you haven’t felt in a long while you manage to just about make your place presentable within an hour. Finally managing to gather and clean up the mugs and glasses that have been cluttering up your surfaces, making your bed all neat and tidy—just in case—and shoving all unnecessary clutter into cupboards. It’s not like Homelander would use his x-ray vision to judge the inside of your cabinets, would he?

Speeding your way out of your apartment you make your way over to the closest shop. Standing in the fresh produce aisle you suddenly realize you don’t actually have a plan. What the fuck are you meant to cook for Homelander?! Even after all the content you’ve consumed you’re pretty sure there’s not a single mention of his favorites. At least ones he’s not been sponsored to promote. Sure, he’s on many products, ranging from frozen peas to whole milk but that doesn’t mean it’s something he genuinely endorses. After all you want to get to know the man behind the costume, a date is not meant to be just another PR interview for him!

You’re starting to look strange. People are passing you while you’re internally panicking over what to buy. What if he’s allergic to something? What if he goes into anaphylactic shock and fucking dies! Even if you had an EpiPen or he carried it on him you wouldn’t be able to stab it into him anyway. And suddenly you’ve killed the world’s most beloved superhero and you’re spending the rest of your life in jail with Vought most certainly making sure you pay your dues. Even if all of that was true you had no way of knowing. It’s not like Vought would ever leak that kind of information. Not very good for their brand to tweet that their best superhero is allergic to fucking nuts!  

You shake your head a little, snapping yourself out of your dazed state. If Homelander’s brand is anything it’s that red-blooded American male perfect standard. Surely he wouldn’t complain about some steak dinner right? Men love steaks! You just make sure to avoid most common allergens. You pick up some potatoes and other vegetables to roast along with a good pricey cut of steak that was easily out of your budget.

You get home just as fast and with each passing second you’re more and more on edge. You don’t know whether it’s the anxiety coiling in your guts or the so called ‘butterflies’ but you’ve never been this nervous before. With the clock ticking and the food cooking you’re suddenly more and more paranoid over everything. From your insane Homelander merch collection to even just the furniture you’ve got! Not that that’s anything you can change in the next hour but your mind is running at a hundred miles an hour and you’re trying to account for everything. 

Just before it gets to the agreed time you change into something nice but casual, straight after shoving the laundry avalanche back into its place. You even leave the balcony door open, doubting he’s gonna knock on your door like a normal person. 

And while you’re there focusing on platting up your best attempt at steak and roasted vegetables, you hear the familiar sound of Homelander’s landing. You whip your head towards the wall clock with such urgency it’s shocking you don’t give yourself whiplash. 

Shit. It was literally 7pm. You wanted to set the table all pretty and prep it perfectly but you got so preoccupied with the place looking as good as it can that you lost track of time. You’re sure he’s used to luxury and perfection. You want to do your best to replicate that!

“Homelander!” Comes out of you with a little gasp. You tilt your head to look at him. And what you see makes your heart skip a beat. 

There he is, in his suited-out glory per usual, except this time he’s holding a bouquet of roses with a dashing smile on his face that quickly turns into a self-satisfied grin as he immediately notices your panic at his presence. Even after he thoroughly reduced you to a puddle of goo just last week you were still such a skittish uncertain thing around him. 

“Wow, smells delicious in here.” He looks around taking it in while inhaling the mouth-watering smell of sizzling steak.

Homelander steps closer with calculated steps, checking you out without an ounce of shame. You don’t know if it’s just the pure intensity in his eyes that has you feeling on edge or if he really is undressing you with his gaze. “These,” he frees your hand, prying your palm open with his gloved hand, “are for you.” He places the bouquet of roses into your palm, squeezing it shut around the wrapped stems.

In a way you’re paralyzed. The reality of the situation finally hits you and you realize you’re really here about to have a dinner date with Homelander. Who just brought you expensive, gorgeous flowers, because that’s something that totally happens to people like you.

You’re standing there, staring at the deep rich red of the roses that actually ends up matching the cardigan you put on for this. Your little attempt at complimenting the suit you knew he'd show up in. 

Your mind is going a million miles a second and your other hand squeezes a petal in between your fingertips. There’s droplets of water on the velvety surface. You didn’t realize it was raining at the time. You look past him through a window as if you could make out the weather through the darkness of the evening.

Looking at the roses now, they look beautiful, pristine. He flew here right? How did he manage to keep them in one shape with the speeds he flies at.

“H-how did you fly with—” You don’t even finish the question before he’s answering.

“I don’t have to fly at super speeds all the time. You’d think my most loyal fan would know that.”

“You can read minds too?” Falls out of your mouth before you even think about what you're saying.

“No. You’re just very easy to read.” He places his hands on his hips, naturally defaulting to his superhero pose. 

And sure, maybe the way your eyes move in between the window, him and the flowers is a dead giveaway but you still don’t think it’s that easy to figure out exactly how your thought process works. 

He seems unhappy with your lack of enthusiastic response. He probably expected you to jump at him, wrapping your arms around him in pure glee that he’d do such a romantic thing. 

He nodded towards the bouquet, raising his eyebrows.

“Anyway, your flowers. You might want to put them in some water. Unless you plan on fondling each petal all night.” You don’t know whether he said it that way on purpose or if your absurd attraction to his voice is reaching new heights but the imagery that conjures is not one that would belong at a dinner table. There’s a different kind of petal-fondling you have in mind for later.

“Sorry! I’m sorry. And thank you. Really, this is very kind of you. They’re beautiful.” Finally, he’s satisfied with that response, his shoulders relax a bit, his chest puffing out as he sees you hold the flowers closer to you.

You’re all over the place and your movements are in no way elegant or thought out as you awkwardly stumble around, pulling out the biggest glass you could find. This ends up being a large glass measuring jug which you admit looks rather strange, and you don't miss the way he raises his eyebrow at the display. 

Well, it was a lot better than if you used the bucket you keep under the sink for cleaning. It’s not like you have a perfect pretty vase ready for this occasion. Until now you didn’t have anyone bringing you flowers and you never really bought any for yourself.

He doesn’t comment on the miserable display. Instead he focuses on how wound up you are.

“Jeez, you’re even stiffer than last time. You know I usually fuck my dates after dinner, but if you need me to loosen you up…” His crude attempt at humor and breaking the ice just has your brain screeching and halting all actions. 

“What?! No, nonono. That won’t—That’s not. I’m sorry. I’m just surprised. That you’re here.”

“I did tell you I’d come. And I’m pretty sure you’re not plating up two plates for yourself there silly.” He shakes his head while clicking his tongue, as if disapproving of your doubt. 

“I mean, I’m surprised that you want to do this. With me.” 

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m here aren’t I? Last time I checked I asked you out, not the other way around. And trust me sweetheart, I don’t do shit out of pity.” He walks closer to you, his hand patting the side of your arm, settling his hand there and sliding it up until he reaches your jaw. The leather of his glove is cold, some raindrops still stuck in the crevices.

Although your heart rate picks up, you smile genuinely. Getting the straightforward confirmation that he wants to be here with you warms your heart. “Alright.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have everything ready. I lost track of time. Do you mind just sitting down, I’ll finish up in a second.”

“Yup, can do.” He sits down at the small table slapping his palms on his thighs as he does so. Already peeling his gloves off, discarding the gloves at the edge of the table. 

You finish up the plating, trying to make it as neat as possible. You bring the plates over, one in front of him the other right opposite. “Um, do you drink beer? I got some in case you do. I know you do endorse some but I’m sure that doesn’t mean you have to consume it in your free time.”

“No thanks, never got the taste for it. Have you got milk?” 

You blank a little at the request. It’s not the typical pairing by any means but who are you to tell him what to like. Instead you comply, tucking away the little preference into the corner of your mind where you keep all your knowledge about him.

“Um, yeah. I do. Again, I got one you’ve done marketing for, just in case you did like it. I wasn’t really sure. Believe it or not there’s a lot I don’t know about you.” You admit. It’s not like everything that his Marketing team puts out is all real. You're sure they leave out any of his actual preferences so future advertisers don't clash with any competition.

“With this logic I’m surprised you didn’t buy the entire store.” 

“I was close to it.” You take the carton out of the fridge, shutting the door with your hip. “Do you want it warm or cold?” 

“Cold is fine.” You nod, pouring some into a glass placing it in front of him.

As a last touch you take two roses from the huge bouquet, popping them into a narrow tall glass filled with water and you place the romantic decoration to the side of the table before sitting down.

He strangely smiles at the gesture, something about it feeling awfully domestic. It may not be perfectly manicured but it's real and it does the job just as well. It's not a perfect setting made for a photoshoot. You're just trying to impress him with what you've got. All for his enjoyment only. And that alone makes it a lot more special. 

Suddenly being right across him really set the reality of the situation. You feel a little awkward about the setting. But there is really only so much you could have done with your small apartment. And it’s not like he hasn’t been here before. He knows what you're working with.

You watch as he cuts into the steak, stabbing it with his fork and bringing a piece to his mouth.

“Wait! You’re not allergic to anything right?!” You suddenly panic, feeling cold sweat pour over you at the thought of your irrational thoughts from earlier coming true. 

He looks thoroughly amused but he doesn’t answer and instead just takes the bite. 

“Are you always this worried on dates? Or do you get them to fill out a questionnaire beforehand?” He seems to enjoy throwing all these little jabs highlighting how much of a nervous mess you are in his presence. 

“I don’t usually cook for my dates on the first date. There’s usually nothing to worry about.”

“I did ask you out for dinner. This is your own doing missy.” He waved his fork at you, pointing at you being the one to blame.

“You think I’m—oh. I’m not complaining about this, oh my god! I just didn’t really know what you like! Surprisingly not a lot about that online. They really know how to keep you a mystery. And even superheroes have allergies! How was I to know whether you’ve got one or not? But even if you did, it’s not like Vought would release that information.” You ramble on, trying to explain yourself but you’re really just digging yourself a deeper hole. Not that Homelander looks particularly put off. If anything, the amused grin spreads to both corners of his mouth.

“You know I’m not here for the food right? Though this is not too bad. Didn’t think you had it in you.” He raises his eyebrows in appreciation. 

“I live on my own. I don’t know why you’re surprised to learn that I can cook for myself.” You said feigning offense but inside you were squealing at the compliment.

“When’s the last time you’ve had a date?” He changes the topic, with each passing moment he’s less interested in the food and a lot more honed in on you and what little secrets you can let him in on. Though he’s still happily nursing the glass of milk. 

“It’s been a while, I guess.” You’re overcome with this anxious feeling in your gut. Is it meant to be a dig at the date you’ve prepared? Is he saying that you’re not desirable enough to be dated?

He catches you off guard with his smug little smile. “Thought so. Guess you’re too busy being my biggest fan, huh?”

You nearly choke on your food, surprised and flustered by his words. The tell-tale sign of heat creeps up your neck and to the tip of your ears in embarrassment. He’s hard to read and you can’t tell whether he’s trying to humiliate you or if he genuinely enjoys the reminder of having someone fawn over him right there and then.

You put your cutlery down, softly clinking it against the plate. “Look, I’m really sorry about all that. I’m a fan but I’m not crazy.”

“I didn’t say you were.” The corners of his mouth comically pull down feigning innocence with a shrug.

You playfully roll your eyes. “You insinuated. I’m just saying I wouldn’t have all this stuff out if I knew you’d ever see it!” You wave your arm in the general direction of the rest of your humble apartment. Still littered with Homelander merch. If you had more time to prepare for the date you would have maybe even taken some of it down. Replace some posters with photos of friends or family, making you appear a lot more put together. But alas, your guilty pleasure is still blatantly obvious and out for anyone to see. It's all the worse that in this case it’s being seen by the featured star of your guilty pleasure himself.

“There’s no shame in being a fan.” 

“No, but it’s different to collect memorabilia and merchandise of a beloved superhero that you don’t ever expect to witness the madness and to actually have him see it all and feel objectified. As if all there was to him is just the plastic he can sell with his face on it.”

You don’t know why you’re getting into the heavy-duty topic of someone’s worth and value but maybe part of you just wants to present yourself as someone who cares. Someone who looks beyond the obvious. 

Homelander is similarly perturbed by your words. Clearly not used to fans taking such direction with him. Thinking about it you doubt he hears more from them beyond a predictable can I have a selfie?

He furrows his eyebrows for a second tilting his head. As if he’s trying to look into your brain to read your mind. And sure he can literally see inside your skull but it doesn’t help him understand your thoughts. So instead he digs deeper. Putting the glass of milk down he looks you straight in the eyes. 

“You don’t think that’s it?” 

His resolute question makes you pause, feeling as if you overstepped. And even if, there’s no way to backtrack anymore so you continue. “O-of course not. I know you’re more than what Vought puts out there.”

You’ve spent countless hours following the content Vought markets out to the public. All of it manicured to match his perfect brand and profile. They’re slick enough to control even the content fans put out. From conventions to random street encounters. You remember following a thread of an anonymous fan sharing their experience of getting barraged by Vought’s lawyers after they shared a post about a poor experience they had meeting one of their superheroes. You haven’t heard an update from that story in a while, god knows what happened to the fan. Maybe Vought’s lawyers managed to get their anonymous account too. 

“How would you know?” Irritation seeps into his tone, shoulders tensing, feeling exposed right before he slides back into his normal casual tone and body language as if remembering that he’s meant to be talking to a date and not some nosy interviewer trying to get the next scoop.

“I mean who hasn’t put up a face to show the world their perfect self? Whether it’s on dates or in front of friends. I just imagine that doing that in front of the whole world means there’s a lot you feel like you have to hide.” With each word you feel like you’re digging yourself a hole, ruining any chance of another date. But you’ve started saying your piece and when else are you gonna get the chance to tell the man exactly how you feel?

So you continue.

“I just think it has to be exhausting. Your entire job, your life is existing in the public eye and you can’t ever slip up? Not super-abled celebrities deal with that already but for you there’s the added burden of being seen as the superhero right? ‘Here to save us all’. I just mean, do you ever get to be yourself?”

You mean to be sympathetic, not that you could ever imagine what it’s like to be in his shoes. Being as obsessed as you are, you've watched all the footage with him. You notice how often the same lines repeat, how well he’s perfected the mask of a perfect hero. The fake humble you’re the real heroes being repeated in every video and appearance. If it was you, you know you’d have enough a while ago now. The daily grind of a job is exhausting enough but to do that all under the public’s scrutiny? You couldn’t even imagine. 

You were so lost in your little monologue, spilling all the little thoughts you had about him and his persona that you miss how his casual demeanor has once again shifted into something else. He’s less irritated but he’s tense. Even more so than before. He wears an expression you’re pretty sure you’ve not seen on him before. His jaw may not be dropped but his surprise and confusion is evident without it. 

He’s speechless. Thinking about it now, has anyone ever spoken to him in such manner before?

You watch his body language and the way he’s squeezing the fork so hard you’re sure he’s bent the metal. 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep. It’s just once I get going I can’t stop!” 

He lets out a breathless little laugh. His shoulders release in tension. He stops gripping the cutlery and sure enough it has a bend that definitely wasn’t there before but you don’t care. He’s not pissed. He raises his free hand waving you off and stopping you from apologizing any further. Something you’ve managed to do about a hundred times since his arrival. 

“No. No, it’s fine. You didn’t.” He shakes his head a little, looking at you with a different look in his eyes. No longer just looking for a little bit of excitement, now he’s truly locked in. What else can he get you to say? “Well maybe you did a little, but color me intrigued anyway.” 

He looks at you in a way that makes you feel small. You feel like you’re on your knees praying for your god to hear out your prayers knowing it’s unlikely for him to even notice you.  

“Can't say I've heard any of that before.” He concludes, slumping back into the chair now that he's relaxed again, having lost all interest in the food you've served up.

You’re embarrassed by the call out. It’s like all your efforts to not appear like another crazy fan have been pointless. He might not seem angry but that doesn’t mean he’s about to jump at the thought of another date. You may have ruined your chances at this being anything more than mild entertainment to him so you try to save yourself. “I just mean. I have always wanted to get to know you. The you without the cameras.”

“You already have. I don’t go on dates with many fans, believe it or not. And I gotta say you’re a lot more interesting than I gave you credit for.” 

And maybe it wasn’t such a lost cause yet. Have there been many people that Homelander has ever found genuinely interesting? You wouldn’t know but at least you’re one of them.

“Oh…ah-hah thank you.” You fluster under his heavy gaze. His words make your heart skip a beat. There’s very little that can match the euphoria of your hero, the hero really, saying he finds you interesting. It’s hard to calm the pounding of your heart at the thought of a man of his caliber seeking your company out.

After all you’ve managed to blurt out you feel more at ease. It’s not awkward like you expected it to be. In a way you’ve broken the ice you didn’t know was even there.

With you both losing interest or having had enough of your meals you move to the small but comfortable couch. And like any good dinner and movie date you put on the first title that gets advertised to you on the main page of the Vought+ streaming platform.

In reality the movie doesn’t get watched. Either you let it play in the background or you pause on sections just so you can continue the conversation between the two of you. And somehow it’s still mainly you literally just rambling on about him. It’s not that he doesn’t talk or doesn’t ask questions about you but you see the way he preens at all the enamored praise you send his way. 

The only parts that do get watched is the small cameo Homelander ended up having in the title and the conversation steers back to him. He gives you all the details you ask for, more than happy to talk about how great of an actor he is. 

With each minute of sitting close to him you feel your body respond to him. You feel hot. Too warm for the cardigan you’re wearing but you don’t want to seem too forward by taking it off. Especially after knowing what kind of trouble he could get up to in between your legs it makes it very hard to accidentally brush against his thigh and not spontaneously combust.

Homelander turns around to look back into the room while you’re dealing with your internal turmoil. Would it be too unseemly for you to initiate?

Your thoughts are interrupted when his bare hand cradles your jaw, bringing you in for a kiss. The whimper you let out is embarrassing but you quickly lose track of anything that’s not his hot lips melting you into a puddle. Just as things are about to get good, just when you’re about to pry his lips open with your needy tongue he pulls away. He doesn’t go too far. You can still feel his hot breath while he rests his forehead against yours. 

“I’ll have to set off. I need to get back to Vought tower.” He hums so close to you that you get goosebumps from the way his voice turns all low and hushed. Even though the words he’s saying are anything but good news, the attractive sound still soothes you.

“Oh-kay.” You nod. A little sad but understanding that he’s got things to get to. Every part of you is holding back from pulling him in for more but as much as your fingers twitch for him you restrain yourself.

“Come on now. Don’t sound so upset.” He gives your cheek a soft little pat before placing another peck on your lips with a chuckle from behind his closed lips.

The taste of your lips pulls him in anyway and he holds you close for a few more indulgent kisses. Upon separating you’re warm and flustered. His touch always seems to have that effect on you. 

“It's just… I had a lot of fun today.” And you don't want it to be over or for it to be the last time you see him. But how do you ask him out? 

While your limbs still feel like jelly, having melted into the couch, he stands up, walking over to the little dining table where he left his discarded gloves, pulling them back on.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll be back.” He clearly reads your expression and watches as you stumble while getting up, clearly wanting to see him out before he flies off.

His words alone are good enough to lift your spirits and you let yourself show that joy outwardly.

“Thanks for today.” When’s the last time you’ve ever felt this in the moment? Even if he never came back this moment would easily be a highlight you look back on.

“Well, aren’t you sweet?” As if he couldn’t restrain himself his eyes snapped in between your eyes and lips, his eyelashes fluttering, lips parting as he took in the sight of you. So eager to please and be there for him. He wets his lips and your stomach flips at the display. The pink of his tongue disappearing as quickly as it appears.

His eyes soften, lips stretching into a lazy lopsided smile.

“Do I get a goodbye kiss?” 

And just like that with one last kiss he’s off again, returning to his duties.

This isn’t where things end with you two. If anything, your life takes a massive turn. It’s not been the same ever since you’ve won that silly competition. And it strangely makes you want to send a gift basket to whoever organized it, no matter how much you dislike Vought itself. 

At first he comes back to you seeking comfort.

He strolls in through your balcony door which you’ve gotten into the habit of leaving unlocked—just in case. It’s not like there’s anyone else eager to fly into your home. You awake at the disruption, eyes bleary and straining in the harsh light of the nightstand lamp you’ve turned on to see what’s going on.

He doesn’t explain himself as much as he just vents to you about how he’s not being respected and taken seriously. It’s the first time he’s been back since your date and you’re surprised to see him so emotive. So unlike the perfect persona or even the carefully charming guy he presented himself as during  your date.

He’s already pacing back and forth, the thud of his boots bound to disturb your neighbors below. Not that either of you care. He’s too preoccupied with being angry. And you’re too frazzled by the thought of something upsetting your hero to this degree.

You see the angry tremor in his hands and the sharpness of his teeth, highlighted by the yellow night light. You snap out of the sleepy daze and you catch his gloved hand when he paces in front of you. 

You pull him down next to you, cooing supportive words and showing your own anger at seeing him be so disrespected by Vought. You believe they don’t know how lucky they are to have someone like him. They should revere him, yet the things he lets slip in his anger make your chest tight, fueling the rage simmering inside you. 

It’s like seeing you riled up at the way he’s being mistreated is enough to calm him down. The more you seethe the more he cools down, the energy exchange working in between you perfectly. He’s pleased to have someone in his corner. Preening at how much you parrot the words he’s saying without needing to nudge you in that direction.

Swoop-in visits like these happen more regularly. Either he comes in irritated wanting to get some frustration and anger out, fucking you throughout the night until all he can think of are your moans and cries telling him it’s too much.

Or he comes in happy, excited to share the news that his numbers are up or that the public and the on-scene reporters couldn’t stop praising him after his latest save. Those days he comes in for affection and a cuddle, wanting to hear over and over again just how well he’s done since you’ve last seen him. Treating you less like a stress ball and more like a teddy bear he’s hugged against his chest in comfort. 

You start thinking how lonely he must feel. The thought that there aren’t any people around him showering him with genuine love and friendship hurts you and suddenly you want nothing more than to keep him here with you, making sure he knows just how special he is.

As much as you’ve always been devoted to this god-like being and the idea that he represented, you never got to love the person. Until now. Now the ideology alone has seeped into your never ending love, fueling the suffocating adoration you hold for him. So strong it’s eating away at you anytime you don’t get the chance to scream how much you love him.

You used to see these late night visits as something he does for his own benefit. With you always being the easiest and most effective balm to his troubled soul. You didn’t think he was serious with you. After all, this is the Homelander you’re spending every other evening with. 

So when he sends you flowers out of nowhere, effectively courting you, you start thinking that this might be turning into something real.

It starts with the first delivery at your door. A gorgeous bouquet bursting at the seams, tagged with a note saying it’s from Homelander. Since then he’s made sure to supply you with the most beautiful bouquets as if to keep a reminder of him on a daily basis. You finally invest in a pretty vase, knowing it’s going to be thoroughly used and displayed.

Your home always had touches of Homelander throughout it—some might even say too many. However, as your relationship grows you come to a realization that those really only represent Vought. It’s these new touches that really represent Homelander’s presence in your life. Like how he times the flower deliveries just right so your place is never empty. Always there to remind you to keep him at the forefront of your mind. Never wavering. 

You two haven’t officially said that you’re dating throughout these nighttime visits but it’s at the tip of your tongue each time he comes. You want to voice the love you carry for him like a burden. Overflowing from your arms with nowhere to go. And it feels like each second you don’t say it, it’s being uselessly spilled on the floor like sand falling from in-between your fingers.

Homelander has his own way of showing affection. Seeing as so much of his life has been in front of some sort of camera you wonder if thinking in advertising scripts and photoshoot visuals comes to him more naturally than casual and real gestures. As ever since he started with the flower deliveries he’s been showering you with gifts upon each visit. As if everyday had to be Valentine’s day and he had to bring something to symbolize the reason for his visit.

You call him out on that one day. 

“You know you don’t have to bring anything right? You don’t need to bribe me.” You chuckle at the gift box he brought with him. You’ve got dozens of similar gift boxes and bags that you feel reluctant to get rid of mainly for the sentimental value but the retail price associated with the gift they hold certainly doesn’t help. 

He clasps the gifted necklace around your neck. The dainty chain lays cold against your skin and your fingers gently caress the pendant with care. Your statement still rings true but you can’t help but feel giddy every time he brings you something he thought would look great on you. 

“Do you not like the things I bring you?” With a perplexed expression you see him trying to do mental math, trying to figure out why you could possibly not kneel or bow in gratitude. He watches you play with your new pretty jewelry with a squint. 

“No! It’s all beautiful—this one especially—just. I don’t want you to feel like that’s an obligatory part of you being here.” You laugh it off a little, still dreamily thinking about what it really means to get pampered to this degree. 

He breaks your thoughts with a simple sentence.

“Maybe I want to treat my girl.” 

Your eyes widen, and you let out a shocked stuttered breath.

“Your girl?”

“Yeah, duh.” He scoffs as if what he said is as obvious as the sky being blue and water wet.

“Because you’re mine, right?” You don’t see the way his eyes reflect his own complicated and simmering feelings. The tension in his jaw betrays how he needs you to acknowledge his words and speak them into an existence. But you don’t notice any of that because it’s like the dam you’ve been doing your best to hold together with safety pins finally bursts.

You’re nodding feverishly. No longer able to hold back you’re possessed to blurt out the words that have been threatening to fall off the precipice of your tongue for weeks. 

“I love you.” 

Homelander’s eyes widen. Surprised by your admission just as much as you are. Your heart is racing, suddenly feeling insane for thinking this was anything more than simple fun to him. The knee-jerk response to apologize spills easily from your lips.

“I’m sorry—,” but instead he interrupts you by cradling your jaw in his bare hands, stepping closer.

“Don’t be sorry.” He says in a low rumble, sending shivers down your spine. He leans in to give you a tender kiss. Just barely slotting in between your parted lips, pressing them against his. Before you get the chance to continue he pulls away with enough distance to speak up.

He breathes out, eyes squeezed shut in longing which to an untrained eye would just look like pure pain and frustration. But not to you. You’ve learned to read him better. 

He nuzzles his face against yours, dragging his lips across your cheek until he reaches your ear, growling a weak, “say it again.”

You’ve partially gotten used to the timbre of his voice in your ear. Capable of having a conversation without getting worked up by every word he says but the way he’s now needily begging in your ear has your body erupt in goosebumps. He doesn’t need to say please for you to hear it anyway.

“I-I love you.” You whimper out. The emotion alone feels thick in your throat, as if it was clogging up your airways anytime you come up for air. Your heart is pounding, you’re strung up, the butterflies in your stomach make you antsy. 

His hold on your jaw tightens. With a sharp intake of breath he smashes your lips together. No longer composed and tender. Your teeth nearly clash as he’s pressed you close to him. He’s prying your lips open with his, his whimpers easily falling into the press of your lips.

“Again.” 

“I love you.”

You don’t want to cry but you’re so overwhelmed with emotion the burn that turns your eyes glassy spills over and you’re dripping tears down your cheeks in pure emotional instability.

“Again.” 

And each time he asks he sounds more wrecked. 

“I love you.”

Homelander catches the tears with his tongue right before kissing the salty taste into your mouth. Not letting any of your love get wasted. You grab onto him, grasping where you can. Your hands tangle in between his as you wrap them around his neck. One hand grips as much of the fabric of his suit it can while the other tangles in his hair, pulling on it for support more than anything. 

You feel like you’re drowning. The intensity of the moment makes you gasp for air but it’s like Homelander kisses it back into your lungs like a lifeline. Hearing his shattered whimpers soothes you, his own need fueling yours, filling the void your tears are leaving behind.

He lifts you up and with practiced ease you automatically wrap your legs around him.

He leads you both to the bedroom while he’s continuously prompting you to continue declaring your love to him. Each again, again, again you reward with the three words that make him feverish and mad. The more you say it the less your heart feels like it’s about to explode from the burden it’s been carrying for too long.

Homelander quite literally rips your clothes off, not caring that he’s leaving his own recent purchases in tatters. He doesn’t want to separate his lips from your neck where he’s kissing trails across each inch of your skin.

You don’t have the luxury to treat his suit with the same carelessness. Even if you wanted to, the tough molded material would make it impossible. Instead you do what you can. Unclasping his belt, pulling at the front of his suit, pushing his pants down where you can reach.

He helps you with taking off the rest of it until he’s on top of you, skin to skin. You rarely get the luxury of lying with him fully stripped and each time you’re shocked at how hot he runs. Now his hot body is making you melt under the heat alone.

Neither of you have stopped kissing with the same intense need that has been laying there dormant for months. Anytime you have the chance you repeat the same words over and over again until they’re all you know how to say.

It’s the first time sex has felt anything more than a physical relief he comes to you for. You’re barely keeping it together as he nudges your legs a little open, sliding his hand down your body, his palm blazing hot as the anticipation makes you clench your core.

It’s by no means either one of your first times, nor it is the first time you’ve been together yet you’ve never felt more nervous. The first touch he descends onto your clit feels like a lightning bolt crackling down your spine, spreading the tingles out to your toes and fingertips.

“Ahh hah—fuck. Want it so bad, don’t you?” He looks as broken as he sounds when he hisses at the feeling of your soaked pussy. It makes his fingers glide too easily, making it harder to give your clit the precise rhythm he’s learned to make you see stars with. 

His attempt at his normal dirty talk is disrupted by his keen moans and broken whimpers. Part of you wonders whether his super senses include being able to feel other people’s sensations with the way he’s acting as if it was him getting his body set on fire.  

You hum and ahh in response, your tongue feeling incapable of saying anything but the words you’ve been finally allowed to repeat over and over again. 

His fingers easily slip inside the sloppy mess you’ve made for him and he moans right into the kiss he leans in to steal from your lips. And it feels good. The friction is perfect, his fingers are hitting the right spot inside you and the loud squelch is embarrassing and intoxicating in equal parts. Yet it’s not what you want.

It takes all your strength to reach down and pull his hand out of you, as instinctively you’re already clenching around the all too familiar emptiness you whine at every other time when he’s done with you. 

“I want you. Please. Just you.” You manage to breathe out, your hand reaching over for his hard cock. You give him a few shaky strokes, smearing his leaking precum across the entire length.

“Alright. Uh huh, okay. I’ll give it to you.” And he’s just as out of it as you as his normal cocky one-liners just break into a lot of grunts and stutters.

He wedges himself in between your thighs, spreading them wide open. His lips part with a wistful sigh while his eyes haze over with lust at the sight of your pussy spread ope, generously glistening with slick all made for him. 

He aligns his cock with your entrance, not even bothering to tease you. He’s just as strung out as you are. He splits you open with a single thrust, your slick pulling him in with an easy glide.

“I love you.” For the first time the confession spills from Homelander’s lips. A relief just as palpable falls upon him. It’s a different story for you. The words cause more tears to spill, a wet hiccup leaving your throat as you clench around him.

“Shh, shh.” He hushes you sweetly, already reaching back for you. 

He lays his body flush on top of yours and kisses your tears away, the heat and weight of his body on top yours grounds you. He repeats the words over and over again in between wet, messy kisses. He ruts into you in shallow thrusts as if he doesn’t want to part from you any second longer.

Nothing in the world exists but you two and neither one of you can believe how perfect you really are for each other. You’ve always felt like the way you love was overwhelming. It left the other person choking on the overwhelming viscosity of it all. Homelander isn’t like that. To him your love is a breath of fresh air. 

As long as you love him with the same unyielding intensity he’s yours. At this point, he wouldn’t know how to live without it.

He kisses you in a way that says just that. Needy and broken yet utterly completed by you. 

You’re both so worked up with the overflowing emotions it doesn’t take much more than his frenzied grinding to make you both reach the release that’s as emotional as it physical. Maybe even more so.

Because the reward isn’t just a good orgasm. It’s the love that fills the air, spilling into every empty crevice you didn’t manage to fill with your bodies.

Homelander’s whimpers resemble cries as he finishes inside you right as you flutter around him with the toe-curling orgasm wracking your nerves. 

It takes you a little while to regain your mental faculties after such an emotionally draining affair. You feel boneless, your limbs feel like jelly and you just lie there dazed. Focusing on the way your heart beats loud even to your ears. 

Homelander is doing the same thing. Listening to your heartbeat with his head on your chest.

After a long while you both pull yourself together. Still in bed but now you’ve managed to strike up a normal conversation again. Talking about everything and nothing.

You lie like this for what feels like hours. Having changed positions you rest your head against his chest, ear pressed to his pecs to listen in on the steady beat of his heart.

After this reveal your brain recognizes your relationship as the utmost priority. Because of that your eyes lock onto the Kuddle Buddy plush resting just a foot away from Homelander’s head. As if you were locking onto an enemy. You pluck it from the pillow, squeezing it in your hand.

You’re staring at it, still clutching it too hard. 

“What got you thinking so hard? You’re making my head hurt from how tense you are.” Homelander interrupts you from your thoughts. 

“Just you. This. I can’t look at this stuff these days without—I don’t know—rage? To know how much Vought has wronged you.” You furrow your eyebrows, assessing the innocent plush toy while it’s staring back at you with its stitched grimace.

“That’s what the toy reminds you of, really? It should remind you of me.”

“It doesn’t anymore.” Your furrowed expression slowly melts into one of content as your hand presses against your new necklace. “Things like these do.” 

“And these.” Your fingers continue to travel up your neck where they tap at the darkened patches you feel he has left behind. With soft nipping and sucking he left your neck coloured in all shades.

He plucks the plush toy from your hands, throwing it somewhere across the room with thankfully not enough strength to knock anything else over. You’re pretty damn comfortable and you’d rather not get up to assess any damage. 

“Maybe I should give you more reminders then.” 

You squeal as he easily pulls you up so his lips can meet yours, kissing your worries out of your mind.

Homelander lands on your balcony with a soft thud. It’s late in the afternoon, earlier than he normally arrives, and he doesn’t want to attract unwanted attention. Already predicting the shit Madelyn would put him through if he got caught regularly perusing outside some random person’s apartment.

His person’s apartment really. You’re not just a random boring nobody.

He makes his way in quietly, closing the door and stepping in. Each time coming back to your apartment has felt more like coming home than he’s ever felt at Vought. You’ve arranged your life around him. He’s noticed you cancel plans, call off events just so you could stay in in the evening, waiting for him to make his return.

You even make space for him in your small apartment. The state of which he’d normally scoff at but it’s hard to mock your financial situation when you manage to make the place feel warm.

His presence left its mark in the gifts you happily displayed or the flowers you always took good care of.

And of course, the insane collection of merchandise you’ve spent years accumulating.

Wait.

Where is everything?

Homelander looks around, breaking out of his routine and instead he scans the surroundings as if it’s the first time he’s ever been here. Only now does he realize that all the usual merchandise carrying his likeness is gone. No posters on the walls. No action figures on the shelves. No funko pops. No collectibles. Nothing.

Homelander feels his blood pressure rise. There’s no way you’d want to get rid of him. Not you too. You love him. You wouldn’t do that.

He finally notices the black trash bags pushed into the kitchen, still open and overflowing with all the things missing from your walls. 

His stomach flips. 

No. Nonono. This can’t be happening.

You can’t get rid of him like this. He can’t lose you. 

Not after he’s finally tasted what real love in cooking tastes like. Or what it’s like to wake up next to someone who instead isn’t pushing you away straight after sex. Someone who makes an effort for him. Not out of fear but out of love. 

He mentally compares everything you’ve changed his perception on. 

Like when you give him a gift or help him out it’s different. Vought employees being at his beck and call could never compare. 

He’s the most powerful man in the world, with means that don’t feel like they have an end yet he could never buy the love you give freely. For once, love doesn’t feel like pulling teeth. It feels like a warm embrace on a cold winter night. 

You make it easy. You don’t fake it. And most importantly you do it unconditionally. Love him through thick and thin, the devotion to him a part of your very core. Your love is overwhelming, oozing and sticky like he’s never gonna be able to get rid of it. Just like you could never get rid of him.

You’re the only one who hasn’t left him.

Exactly. It can’t be. You wouldn’t.

This has to be some kind of a mistake.

The shuffle of your slippers against the floor breaks him out of his spiraling thoughts. He looks up sharply. Seeking some sort of explanation.

“Hey baby. You’re early today—what’s wrong?” The smile drops from your face as quickly as he sees it and it’s only then he realizes his hand is shaking. He squeezes it into a fist, the leather creaking with the pressure as he takes in a labored breath with a jittery shake to his head.

“W-uh-what is… What are you doing?” He blinks rapidly, shaking his head pretending that his voice doesn’t quiver and waver the way it does. 

“Bit of spring cleaning. After we talked the other night I just can’t look at this stuff and not think how much Vought has used you. I don’t want those reminders. It’s not what I thought it was and now that you opened my eyes to it, I can’t forget. So. Out with it.” You say so casually, not picking up on the panic he’s been going through in his head.

“Oh—okay.” He lets out a visible breath of relief, his posture relaxing. “I thought—” His jaw tightens and he looks away. Thought so heartbreaking, he doesn't want to give it voice.

“You thought I was getting rid of you?” You stop what you are doing. Putting the box on the couch and instead you walk up to him, hand on his jaw you turn him back to look at you.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy.” You kiss him, and Homelander melts right into it. He lets himself melt into the loving embrace of your pliant lips.

“Good. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.” When you pull away he puts his hands on your jaw, tilting your head as if he was inspecting you. Seeing if what you’re saying is true. And he can’t see a single speck of a lie with the steady beats of your heart and the taste of love on your lips.

“So what are you doing with all of it?”

“Selling it, donating or trashing some I guess.”

“Why not sell it all?”

“You can buy a Homelander poster or card at any shop for a few bucks. I'm not gonna bother with those.”

“What if I sign them?”

“Oh please don’t waste your time. You’re not here to be a show pony.”

“Nonsense, come on. Bring it out.”

Homelander ends up taking the stack of posters with his or the Seven’s likeness from the top of the trash bag, placing them on the coffee table in front of the couch. He sits down, hooking his cape out of the way. He picks up a pen off the table already signing the first poster. 

Part of him is still upset that you feel like throwing a part of him away. Is this part of him not good enough for you anymore? It’s how he found you, how he got to know you and now it feels like you’re throwing it away. 

As if you could read his thoughts you sit down next to him, placing your hand on top of his as he’s halfway through his signature.

His head snaps up towards you, expression clearly guarded while he looks you over with his piercing blue gaze.

He carries his upset so visibly it would be hard even for someone as unaware as you to miss it. His smile is tight, not even attempting to reach his eyes.

You pull the pen out of his grip, instead wrapping your hand around his. The other one goes to his hair, scratching your nails down his scalp until you reach his undercut where you play with the shortly buzzed hair.

“I’m not getting rid of you. Not now. Not ever.”

At that he leans into you, nearly purring at the pleasure your scalp massage brings him. The way you touch him with no hesitation will never cease to amaze him. There’s enough love pouring off you to almost fill the black hole in his heart. 

It was exhilarating to have someone so eager to keep him in their life. Everyone else has just pushed him away, entertained him until they got what they wanted. Not you. You give and give and give. Sometimes he’s scared you’ll run out of love to shower him with. However, one look at you tells him that the love you carry feels just as much of a burden as his need for it does to him. You free each other by sharing the love. You feed his insatiable beast of a heart and he lets you burst the dam free without feeling like you’re not allowed to.  

The posters are forgotten about. Any hurt brushed away with a press of his lips to yours. Needy and hungry, wanting to see if you can prove your words with actions. Again and again.

And you do. Like you’ve done a hundred times before and just like you will do thousands of times over.

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged when I post a new Homelander fic)

@morishitoshi @ker0senebunny @itsvaleriesucka @thychuvaluswife

@nervoussystemss @littlegaaby @natliecole @thatvintagefanboy

@infinetlyforgotten @rafecamsgirlll @hom3landr @mrsdesade

@nommingonfood

[girlsworldillusion]

CLAIM - by Aemond Targaryen

+18 (seriously, no minors)

author's note: my first time writing for him, even though I've been in the fandom for a while now. (I hope this isn't the only one).

There you go, Aemond thinks with some bitterness.

Bright, innocent, pure. Tempting in annoying ways. Certainly a cute little thing to look at, though.

Unfortunately, he's not the only one who noticed this.

A warm, tingly ball curls in his stomach the more he watches you and your pathetic excuse for a partner during the waltz. Every delicate twirl you make around the grand ballroom sends shivers down his spine. The flushed dust high on your cheeks leaves his throat dry. The gentle smile you offer the Lord who smugly leads you through the dance makes his fist clench so tightly around the wine glass that Aemond is actually surprised he hasn't shattered the thing into a thousand pieces yet.

Aemond is not jealous, however. Aemond doesn't get jealous - being jealous is wanting something someone else has, and he has everything he needs, a lot of enviable things, to be honest. (That's what he tells himself, sipping some wine and sending icy daggers toward the man who insists on holding your waist tighter and tighter).

He's not jealous. He just doesn't like it when others covet what's his - or what should be his.

You, another Lady with a prestigious name. Theoretically there were many like you, it's true. But to Aemond, you always stood out. Unique, special. It is a great inconvenience that others also think this way.

Aemond was trying to be a gentleman here. He was purposely going slow so as not to scare you; innocent walks in the garden, subtle conversations about a book you both recently read, an unassuming invitation for afternoon tea (although he doesn't even like tea).

He was already exhausting the limits of his own patience and he still didn't get any real sign that you reciprocated his interest in you. You are kind and lovely, of course. But that's how you are with everyone around you. This, in itself, is no guarantee of absolutely anything for him.

Aemond was trying to be patient. Gods, he really was. But with each passing day he found himself more and more tormented by thoughts and fantasies about you. His mind is playing tricks on him, pushing the limits of his self-control to the point where he feels like he might snap like a stretched rubber band.

And it is on these nights, when everyone in the Red Keep is already asleep and he is absolutely certain that he is finally alone with his own demons - that he gives in.

He closes the only eye he has left to keep from seeing the shamefully needy descent of his hand beneath the waistband of his sleep pants, only for it to become a fleeting, innocuous thought a few seconds later, because there it is again; that all-encompassing, overwhelming feeling that makes him see stars every time.

He palms his straining erection wet with precum, imagining it's your tiny hand there - or your pretty mouth, your tight pussy. The mere thought of it sends a bolt of pleasure down his spine and makes him part his lips in a husky sigh.

He thinks of you, over and over again; in hurried and repetitive steps, like someone lost in a maze.

Your cheeks flushed, your lips swollen from his kisses, your eyelashes fluttering with pleasure, your sweet voice begging for him...

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond-

Aemond writhes on the sheets, panting, shaking with it, his toes curled against the bed; his hips twitching with each wave of pleasure along his shaft trapped between his fingers. In the waves of euphoria, he throws his other arm over his eye, hides his sapphire and his personal decay like a secret, panting, getting close, so close, fuck, fuck...

It's sweet torture, after all. Spills out onto his own stomach and sheets instead of where he really wants to be.

But he can handle it. All to be a gentleman for you. All to endure the long, agonizing (and embarrassing) wait while you happily accept his invitations to teas and walks in the gardens and entertain him with your witty anecdotes about the latest book you read -

Although you never give him a concrete answer about your feelings for him.

He's trying to hold on.

But you need to pressure him, don't you?

He grits his teeth and narrows his gaze when the man waltzing with you leans down to say something close to your ear.

This isn't new to him, of course.

Aemond is used to having to fight to get what he wants. Nothing really comes easy for him. But there is something about the arduous trajectory of his personal achievements that no one is able to deny.

Once claimed, it's his forever.

That's it, enough of trying to be a gentleman - Aemond hums as he uses the rim of his wine glass to hide the wicked smile tugging at his lips.

.

"Oh, baby."

He is against you.

Pressing his crotch against the curve of your ass so you can feel how hard his cock is in his pants.

He's laughing in your ear.

Mocking.

"You like that, don't you, girl?" he asks, in a dark whisper after cornering you in one of the castle's corridors, blocking your walk to your chambers. He deposits words laced with malice and honey into his husky voice, whispered against the shell of your ear.

You shudder against him.

He's rubbing himself against you. His cock rubbing explicitly against the curve of your ass, while his fingers squeeze your throat, pulling the back of your head to his shoulder.

"You're mine," he says, his voice full of possessiveness. Like he was on the verge of losing it. He already lost.

You cry out softly, feeling him squeeze your throat again. Harder this time.

"Nobody touches you from now on. Got it?"

He's nuzzling into your hair. Lost in the tickle of your strands on his face, in your sweet smell in his nose.

You shake your head somehow even with his firm grip on your throat and he laughs against your hair.

A low, harsh laugh, a wicked sound that rumbles straight from his throat as he leans down to leave a single kiss on your cheek, intertwining his fingers with yours to give a light tug.

"Good girl."

.

You open your mouth to say something, anything - an apology, a well-rehearsed argument, words too soft and genuine to compete with the sound of Aemond's hips slamming violently between your thighs - but all all you can do is a low, breathless meow.

"You smell like him," Aemond huffs coldly, though it's more of a breathy grunt.

Maybe there is a certain amount of exaggeration in his words, you don't smell like him. Not really. But the simple memory of that man's hands on your waist and his face close to yours to whisper anything was awakening a dangerous euphoria in Aemond's veins.

He tries hard to at least pretend to be easy, to at least pretend to have some control over the situation. Struggling silently to remain composed, as if he wasn't finally fucking the woman he's wanted for a long time at a brutal pace, as if your scent and your tears weren't permanently staining his sheets right now, as if he wasn't squeaking his teeth to keep from spilling too soon at the mere thought of having permanent physical proof that you were here - right in the bed where he sleeps every night. Aemond feigns an indifference and coldness that are not real.

But he's trying.

He is under the intense watch of your drunken, half-closed gaze, and tries hard not to embarrass himself any more than he already has. He struggles to breathe through his nose, trying not to blink too often; carefree, not a hair out of place. And, in the midst of his personal battle for dignity, he finds some amusement in how you seem to be going insane beneath him; as if you seams were being torn apart with each breath hissed through your teeth.

"I-it was just a dance..."

“He was desperate,” Aemond cuts you off, squeezing you so that your words turn into nothing more than a pathetic groan at the end of the sentence. His fingers dig into your throat, anchoring him as his hips work furiously against yours. His hair is falling to your shoulders and breasts, raising goose bumps on your skin with each thrust of his body against yours. “And that smell is really offending me, girl.”

“I-I, I’m so sorry-” you stutter, hands gripping his wrist as he resists the urge to sink his teeth into the crook of your neck, exactly where everyone can see it tomorrow, “I told him I already had someone and -"

He barely hears your confession before he interrupts. Thick words spilling from his lips as the grip on your body doubles in intensity.

"He thought with that sticky smile that he could just have you? That he would be the one to take your purity? This is for me, he should know. You belong to me. Only for me - only for me." He shakes and sputters to the wild pleasure coursing through his veins, some of his self control slipping as he bows his head and bumps his forehead against your sweaty shoulder, panting heavily into your skin at the feeling of your tight walls gripping his cock like a lathe.

"Yeah - only for you", he distantly hears you moan above the roar in his ears, feels your little fingers tangle between the silver strands of his hair until you manage to give a sharp tug, right at the base of the back of his neck. He groans into your skin at the sensation.

The liquid heat building inside him is almost overflowing, so close that he can't stop his trembling hips from meeting yours with shallower thrusts. He's almost rubbing himself against you, over and over, frantically. “Aemond, p-please,” you murmur, cherry-colored tongue wetting your plump bottom lip. "I can't anymore, I can't - ngh, please-"

Aemond swallows the rest of your words with a punishing kiss, answering your broken plea by quickly grinding his hips, encouraging your orgasm to wash over you. He doesn't stop, not even when you go rigid, unable to kiss him back or do anything other than moan and cry into his mouth.

Aemond traces your lips with his tongue, nibbling them until they're soft, his own breathing becoming as frantic as the cock that's dragging without pause against your wet walls. When his orgasm washes over him, Aemond is already panting and moaning as if in pain as he rests his forehead against yours; an intense gaze observing yours, focused on every detail of your delicate features. Your hooded gaze, the wet trail of tears on your red cheeks and your uneven breathing. The purest adoration for him shining in your eyes like stars in the dark sky.

And he smiles then.

Because you are his now.

Duly claimed.

.

With a gentle touch on his elbow, Aemond returns to reality.

The apples of his cheeks are dyed a subtle (but noticeable) shade of red as his violet gaze scans the space in front of him, silently surprised to have been caught in the middle of his unholy reverie.

It's you.

A beautiful silk dress on soft skin. Hair tied in a slightly loose braid. So small compared to him. So beautiful. So...his.

"Prince Aemond, are you okay?"

He looks at you for a moment, debating between feigning disagreement to spare himself the humiliation of being caught or pushing you against the nearest wall.

In the end, he chooses to remain still, head raised proudly and face indifferent, although his violet gaze remains stubbornly tilted downwards, thirsty to maintain eye contact with you.

"Yes, I just got distracted," he says, voice deeper than he'd like it to sound.

You smile, sweet and soft and his heart quickens.

"That's great. Well, it's late and my feet are hurting after all the dancing." You close your eyes in an amused, relaxed expression, there's even a dimple forming in your cheek as the wide smile stretches your lips - and although the sight is enough to fill his chest with a bubbling sensation of pure warmth, a muscle Aemond's jaw jumps at the mere mention of your recent activities. "Have a good night, my Prince." You conclude when he offers no response to your comment, bowing with a respectful farewell before walking away.

He watches you leave the great hall with delicate steps, gentle smiles and nods directed at the people you meet on the way. The image of grace and innocence, without a doubt. At least until you turn your head towards him before walking out the hall doors.

The way your upper teeth sink into the plump flesh of your lower lip, your heavy eyelashes fluttering when you squint briefly, the flushed cheeks and swollen pupils aimed specifically at him...

It happens as quickly as it started. With a fluid movement you turn around again and walk through the hall doors, as if nothing had happened.

Aemond sighs; tired, irritated, burning with lust.

You keep playing with him.

The wine glass shakes and clinks loudly as he places it roughly on the table, but he doesn't care. He doesn't even care if anyone notices as he abruptly follows your steps, leaving the ballroom behind, with a hard gaze and dark features.

He would catch up to you.

And this time he'll make sure it's not just in a daydream-

He will claims you. Truly, indisputably.

[mothwingwritings]

Can we have Ren/Fox (TPOF) and Mc with a child?Long after Fox decided to stay with MC, they both had a daughter (probably not something with consent and a bit of Stockholm syndrome).The daughter asks her mother how she got the scars and this makes MC have memories of post-traumatic stress.

I was so tickled by this ask that I started manically typing out a response for it nearly as soon as I saw it in my ask box (which at this point, was quite some time ago. Forgive me, I am a mess lul). I wrote the whole damn thing in a fit of passion, excited to release it into the world… But ultimately hated it and thought it was garbo, so I scrapped it and tried again. Wrote a second iteration and thought ‘hell yeah, this is it!!! Sick!’, but then I read it AND HATED THAT ONE TOO AAAHHH!!!

I rewrote this… so much…

But I never give up on my dreams, and you shouldn’t either! Persevere! Don’t give up on yourself! Here’s your daily motivation for the day! Keep writing even it makes you cry!!! :D

Anyway, so I wrote this third one, comprised of new stuff and the stuff I actually did like from the first two stabs, and it ended up being the one. Truly it is a Frankenstein of a fic lol. Regardless of all the reworking, I had a lot of fun writing this and enjoyed the prompt very much!!! I I hope you enjoy reading it just as much. :)

I’m sorry if the writing seems a tad too mature for the reader’s daughter in this, writing children isn’t my forte. ^^;

Due to the nature of this fic, IT IS 18+ ONLY!!! Thank you!

WARNINGS: Incessant mentions of abuse of all kinds for reader and mentions of physical abuse for her child!!! Reader is heavily scarred from said abuse and that’s a main theme in this fic so please avoid if that is upsetting to you. Also, though not the main focus, there are multiple mentions of child abuse in this fic, as well a part where reader goes off verbally on her child, so please be mindful of that as well! Other things of note: reader is a parent in this (which you can probably tell by the prev warning lol), reader getting hurt, blood, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, being held against your will/isolation, mentions of noncon, sad family stuff :(

Diminishing rays of afternoon light splayed through the open window of your quaint living room, casting a comforting orange glow over everything they touched. The light gave the environment an ethereal and nostalgic feel, wrapping you in peaceful warmth as the sun sunk lower and lower. The loveseat you occupied was plush and inviting, and a mug of your favorite tea stood at the ready on the small coffee table beside you, steadily cooling with help from the last hurrah of winter blowing in gently from the outside. Besides the slight chill, the wind brought with it the heavy scent of freshly bloomed flowers, a delightful precursor to the oncoming spring.

Relishing the rare moment of serenity, you couldn’t help but wish that all your days could be this lovely.

You smiled down at your daughter who sat perched in your lap, happily flipping through the newest gift she had acquired from her Father- a thick picture book full of bright illustrations highlighting various exotic animals. As it lay sprawled across her tiny lap, her chubby finger pointed out each animal she took an interest in, her high pitched voice chirping away as she explained what she liked about the creatures. She got particularly excited when she spotted the page full of foxes, jabbing at the red one feverishly as she exclaimed “its daddy!”

Spotting the foxes began her down a path of assigning an animal to not just herself, but you as well. She didn’t find it fair that only her father had kin in the animal world, even though you pointed out that she technically did as well by sharing half the man’s blood. Your revelation did little to deter her, she wanted something new, something just for herself, and she wasn’t going to stop until she found her perfect soul animal. So she continued on, scanning each page in earnest until she found a creature that suited her.

She ended up picking a bunny for herself, supplying you with a comprehensive reason as to why she chose it. As she explained in great length, skimping no details, you couldn’t help but hold back laughter. She spoke as if she were a professor teaching a class, and you did your best to keep a straight face as she yammered on with her shoddy reasoning, deep down knowing she only picked a rabbit because of how cute they are.

After she was done waxing poetic about bunnies, she continued scouring the book, coming to a halt once she reached the wild cat section. She stopped with a gasp, beaming up at you as she pressed her finger firmly against one of the images on the page.

“Mommy this one is you!”

Your eyes traveled to the picture she was rapidly tapping, “An African Wildcat, huh?” You smirked down at the little girl in amusement, “Why did you pick that one for me?”

“Because it looks just like you!”

You chuckled at her enthusiasm, “It looks like me? How so?”

“It has marks just like you do!”

Her innocuous words sent a chill up your spine. Eying the stripes that crossed the cat’s legs, you felt a great unease begin to overtake your body. Her reasoning was not lost on you, the cats coat did quite resemble the jagged scars that covered nearly every inch of your body, and just like the feline in her book, your limbs were the most prominent location of said ‘markings’. You quickly shook your head, not wanting to dwell on it further. In hopes of moving on from the subject, the outpouring of words that flew from your mouth were jumbled and messy.

“O-oh, I see,” you stuttered, clearing your throat to steady your voice, “well you certainly picked a cute animal for me! Thank you baby, it was a good choice.”

She smiled at you innocently, a gesture that usually made your heart melt with affection. But as her tiny hands moved from the book to your arms, that smile did nothing but fill you with dread, the realization that you wouldn’t be getting out of this sticky situation hitting you like a brick to the face. 

“Yeah mommy, the kitty’s marks are just like these ones,” her stubby fingers gently traced the old wounds, a look of reverence reflected on her cherubic features. “They make you look like that kitty mommy,” her little voice cooed, “I like them a lot!”

Your muscles constricted at her words, a slight tremor coursing through you as you involuntarily tightened your grip on her. She took note of this, looking up at your strained features with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Don’t be sad mommy,” she spoke assuredly, “I really do like them! I think they are pretty!”

Her words burned you, scorching the inside of your frozen shell of a body, leaving you feeling sickly and discombobulated. The room around you started to spin in a hazy blur, a wave of nausea making you nearly wretch. Your breathing grew erratic as you tried to calm yourself, inwardly repeating that your daughter was just a child, a little girl barely four years of age who had an incredibly limited view of the world. Her words were not meant to upset you. Her opinions were coming from a place of total naivety.

Yet still, the mental assurance did little to help with the extremely uncomfortable position you now founds yourself in. It wasn’t as if this was her first time noticing your scars. She had mentioned them before, her curious mind trying to piece together the reason that her arms appeared different from your own. Each time she brought your old wounds up you couldn’t help but feel flustered, responding with weak explanations and misdirection to try and quickly brush off her questioning.

The marks came from a silly mistake, or a childhood accident, or from a careless moment when mommy should have been paying more attention. It was always excuses on repeat. How many lies had you told her on this topic alone?

But even if they were lies, it beat telling her the truth. You didn’t want to have to explain where the scars on your body actually came from to anyone, let alone a child, and especially not to your own daughter. How could you possibly word it gently, or in a way that she would understand, when you barely understood why you had them yourself? How could you look her in the eye and tell her that these markings were a permanent sign that you had been very, very hurt and that it was her own fathers hands that inflicted the pain?

Reliving the horrific moments that left your body in such a state was overwhelming enough on its own, but to also have to lay bare her father’s sins, relay to her the unsavory proclivities of a man who she idolized and adored, was not something you were keen on doing.

She didn’t know her daddy like you knew him. She was ignorant to the constant state of concern you lived in, unaware of the worries that plagued your mind and kept you up each night. All the troubles of the hell she had been born into were completely lost on the small, carefree girl.

But honestly that was for the best. You had made an unspoken promise the moment she entered your life that you would protect her no matter what. From the day of her birth onward it became your mission to keep her as happy and healthy as possible.

Ren had broken you, but she did not have to suffer the same fate.

At this point in her life, your daughter knew nothing of her daddy’s profession or ‘hobbies’, and you wanted it to remain that way for as long as possible, if not for the rest of her life. You dreaded each time Ren came home from an auction, terrified he may let casually slip too many details about his ‘lively client’ or that he would carelessly step through the door with the stains of his liaisons still littering his clothes. Your daughter was at an age where she was brimming with questions, and she was relentless in getting answers to each question she asked. Everything had to be explained in complete detail for her to be satisfied, drop the subject, and move on. She was a smart little thing, possibly too smart for her own good. You highly doubted a silly joke or wave of the hand would assuage her whirring mind should Ren grow too impetuous in her presence.

And should her questioning become too pesky, you fretted over what Ren’s reaction to it may be. The more you tried to avoid thinking about it the more you seemed to fixate on the topic, pondering just how much goading it would take from your daughter before his temper would rear its ugly head.  You, above anyone, had firsthand experience in just how volatile the man could be, the scars that littered your body a testament to his turbulent emotions and violent outbursts.

Looking back on it now, it’s a wonder you survived any of it at all.

Ren often told you he loved you, each confession spoken through honeyed words that spilled from his lips easily and often.  And while you didn’t doubt those words (you knew better than to, at this point), you also knew his sweet nothings weren’t merely a term of endearment, they also served as your curse. He loved you, but he also loved your fealty to him, your adoration and worship of him and only him. Should you not reciprocate his feelings as quickly or ardently as he expected, the mere thought of whatever punishment he would concoct was enough to send you into a debilitating panic attack.

There were few things he loathed more than when you flinched from his affection or if you exhibited any sign of distress towards his presence, especially after he had spent so many years going above and beyond to provide for you, devote himself to you. You had learned early on to keel any feelings of aversion you had to his advances, several of your more prominent scars a brutal reminder of that misstep alone.

 If your daughter uncovered the truth and saw her father for who he truly was, if she began to fear him the way you feared him, how would he respond?  If not only his partner, but his own daughter started shying away from him, what length would he go to to correct this behavior?

Dwelling on it made your skin crawl.

But perhaps all of your worries were asinine. Despite his inclination for cruelty, Ren had never so much as raised a hand towards your daughter, even when she did act up. If anything, he was overprotective of her, barely letting her move faster than a brisk jog lest she fall and hurt herself. He hated seeing his little girl experience even a modicum of physical pain, mentioning to you previously that were he able, he’d keep her locked up in a padded room all day and night to prevent any foreseeable accidents or injuries. Surely it was just his idea of a joke, but the insinuation still made you cringe.

It was almost comical, just how greatly the manifestation of his affection for her differed from how he showed his love for you.

His domineering nature shielded her from experiencing any true pain. Every scrape, bruise, and cut she ever received was superficial, nothing that caused major bleeding or left a lasting impression. She had no way of knowing what had been done to you to cause the scars that marred your form, the torment and hell you experienced with each slash, smack, burn. Hell, she probably didn’t even really understand what a scar actually was. All she knew was that her mommy and daddy had strange marks on their skin that didn’t follow any kind of set pattern, weird jagged lines and indents that her soft skin was curiously free from. The mystery of it all was as puzzling to her young mind as it was enticing.

However, some mysteries were best left unsolved, and just as with each other time she brought up this hot topic, you found yourself unable to look into her clear, bright eyes and tell her any semblance of the truth. She may have been forced upon you, but she was your daughter. You loved her, and you refused to be the one to shatter her innocence. You would keep her ignorant for as long as possible, shielding her to the endless nightmare of your daily lives, even if it cost you your sanity.

“Mommy,” her voice jarred you, dragging you from your thoughts, “mommy did you hear me? I said I think they are pretty!”

“T-that’s… I…” You stuttered, struggling to find the right words to say, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended it to. The room felt like it had dropped thirty degrees, your body twitching in response to the sudden chill.

“Daddy told me he gave some of them to you, like this one,” her pudgy, cold finger pressed into the faded heart that resided on your chest, the first of many indelible sins he had etched onto your form. Only the top half of the carved symbol was viewable above the collar of your shirt, so she tugged at the loose hem until she could see it in its horrible entirety.

“Daddy said he gave you this one because he loves you so much,” her voice grew quiet, a thoughtful look in her eye as they drank in wounds you wished you could forget, “Daddy loves me too, right mommy? You think he’ll give me a cute heart someday too?”

You felt as if you had been hit by a train.

“S-top,” the words were forced from your throat, airy and breathless, as if someone was wringing your neck to make them come out, “p-please, just stop talking.”

“What did you say mama,” your daughters sing-song voice responded as her fingers continued to trace and prod your scars, “You are whispering, is it a secret?”

“I told you to SHUT UP!”

As if following your command, your booming voice instantly silenced the small girl. Unused to such a violent outburst from her mother, her happy-go-lucky nature quickly shifted to one of alert, her tiny body going rigid as she stared up at you with fearful eyes.

Seeing her in such a state and knowing that you were the cause of it would normally have killed you inside, making you fall to your knees to beg for the child’s forgiveness. But right now, the thin thread that had been holding you together had snapped, and your words rushed out in a torrent you couldn’t begin to quell.

“Shut up, shut up, shut UP!” You seethed, clasping your hands to your ears to try and block out your own intrusive voice, “Just STOP TALKING about it! What are you even saying? Why would you ever want to look like this?!”

Tears started to flood your eyes, blurring the image of the girl who had quickly jumped from your lap and was now cowering before you. Through your bleary vision, you could see tears were brimming her eyes as well.

“You… You have no idea,” your voice warbled, shaking in equal parts grief and frustration, “You have no clue what you are saying, so just STOP IT. KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AND DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK OF IT AGAIN!”

You slunk from the chair down to the floor, burying your face in your cold, stiff hands. The soft blubbering of your daughter could be heard through your own sobbing.

“I-I’m sorry mommy. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Hearing her broken voice began to shatter the spell you had been under, instant regret jerking you roughly back to reality. Your head sunk lower, your body scrunching itself up as tightly as possible to hide from this cruel reality.

Your screams were born from deeply buried feelings of hatred, tucked far, far away as a means of self-preservation. For a moment, you felt as if you despised your daughter, her existence tethering you to this wretched excuse of a life, binding you irrevocably to Ren. But as you lifted your heavy head, glancing up to stare into her young face, a face so very similar to your own, a face contorted in panic and sadness over her mother’s abrupt descent into madness… you realized it wasn’t her that you hated.

It was yourself.

Your daughter didn’t deserve this. She deserved normalcy. She deserved a father that didn’t pose a threat to her. She deserved a mother that wasn’t ruined by his hands. She deserved a happy and untroubled life, not to be stuck being raised in a barbed cage, navigating her way through life with nothing but the shattered remains of a battered woman to guide her.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked under the weight of your overwhelming emotions, snot and tears running freely down your ruddy cheeks and chin, “I’m so, so sorry baby…”

“What the hell is going on?”

You hadn’t heard the front door open, nor had you heard Ren’s jubilant greeting as he entered your home. He had no doubt been upset by the lack of welcome-it was one thing to be ignored by a child, but his doting wife? That was not something he was not apt to look past.

But surely any feelings of annoyance or frustration fled from his mind the moment he entered the room, his eyes falling upon your crumpled, messy form collapsed on the floor. You cursed his arrival, upset that he entered the scene at such a compromising time, right as you were struggling to regain an ounce of composure and properly apologize to the little girl who had done nothing wrong.

“D-daddy,” your daughter’s voice warbled as she barreled towards him, colliding into his waiting embrace. You wiped at your face in a desperate attempt to hide your previous outpouring of emotions, doing your best to avoid eye contact with Ren as his sharp gaze quickly flicked from you, to his daughter.

This had already become enough of a scene without Ren’s interference, it was best to try and begin damage control now. 

“Daddy I-I made mommy cry!” Tears continued to pour from your daughter’s eyes, her face twisting into a look of pure dismay. Her misguided admission of guilt made you recoil, knowing full well it would grant her no favors with the person she seeking comfort from. “I’m really sorry daddy! I didn’t mean to!”

After several endless seconds of silence, Ren spoke.

“… You made her cry?”

His voice was far sharper than it needed to be, further agitating the precarious state of affairs. In most cases he would have offered your daughter leniency, letting her get away with far more than she probably should. However that leniency was null and void if you ended up suffering in the process.  Ren could not forgive anyone that caused you any duress (himself, of course, being the exemption) even if that person was his own flesh and blood.

“What do you mean you made her cry? What the hell did you do to her?”

“I-I don’t know,” she wailed, a fresh wave of tears spurred on by the accusatory tone of her father’s voice, “I just told mommy I thought her marks were pretty and then she started crying! I wasn’t lying daddy, I like them! I think they make mommy look really pretty!”

“Her marks…?” Ren’s look of vexation began to dissipate as the meaning of her words donned on him. He lifted his arm, rolling up his sleeve to reveal his own scars to the little girl. Pointing a clawed finger to them, he leaned down until he was looking her in the eye, “You mean like these?”

As she nodded her head vigorously in confirmation, Ren tutted, “That’s the reason for all the water works? An innocent compliment started all this fussing?” He scoffed, shaking his head, “Isn’t that a little bit… silly?

You tensed at the sound of his barking laugh, your frown deepening as an amused grin spread wider across his lips. You wished that you could say it was shocking for him to have such disregard after finding the two of you in such an agitated state, but it was painfully in character of him to shrug off your misery and suffering as inconsequential.  How he could so nonchalantly normalize this hellish situation he kept you and your child ensnared in, you would never understand.

Your daughter was apparently sharing similar thoughts, as her face began to once more morph into a pre-sobbing scowl. She was no doubt wounded that her father was not offering her the comfort she was seeking, her emotional state already greatly weakened by her mother’s venomous tantrum.

To help quell another round of tears, Ren pulled the child closer, wrapping her up in his arms so that her tiny form was nearly enveloped by him.  “Shhh, no more tears angel,” he cooed sweetly, patting her head gently to appease her, “There isn’t any reason to cry, especially because… Well, you’re right! Mommy’s whole body is pretty, isn’t it? Her marks just compliment the beauty that’s already there.”

Slowly but surely, her tears began to dissipate. Hunched over shoulders loosened, and sniffles and hiccups gave way to even breathing. Like clockwork, her father’s gentle handling soothed her, the same touch that destroyed you offering her salvation.

As if under a spell, the turmoil that had overcome your daughter quickly began to vanish, her sobbing fading into quiet sniffles. Once she was fully calmed, Ren continued speaking, “That’s all you meant to say to mommy, right angel? I’m sorry she took it the wrong way, she’s probably just tired or hungry, you know how mommy gets. She’ll get over it in no time flat!”

Heat spread through your body at his flippant dismissal of your feelings, an indignant blush lighting your cheeks as you gripped your hands tightly at your side. Your previous emotional episode left you all but drained, but your will to fight back against his callous commentary could never truly be contained.

“In fact, I bet she is already over it now,” Ren’s voice took on a jovial tone as he directed his focus solely on you, “Aren’t you, pumpkin?”

With the ball suddenly in your court, you flinched as both sets of expectant eyes fell on you. Your own eyes darted from Ren’s piercing glare, down to your daughter’s wide-eyed look of unbridled hope. You felt much like the rabbit that had been caught by the fox, stuck in a lose-lose situation. Seeing him hunched over her small body as she clutched to him as a life line, openly concerned that her mother may once more reject her while her father remained a bastion of strength and understanding, left you reeling. Either you would get heated again and stay the villain, but possibly hold on to an ounce of your dignity, or concede to Ren and have yet another piece of your soul wither away and die-the price to pay so that your daughter could remain in blissful ignorance for another day.

“Aren’t you, pumpkin?” He repeated himself slowly, enunciating each word. The kindness in his voice serving only as a mask for the threat buried beneath.

“Y-yes,” you responded quickly, shooting them both a smile you hoped was convincing, “I am very sorry, baby. Daddy is right. Mommy is just… tired.”

A serene smile lit her face, your words placating her. Seeing her happy once more helped relieve a bit of the ache in your own heart, making the lie worth it.

“Good, good,” Ren affirmed with a nod, carefully detaching himself from your daughter as he stood, “but you know little one, mommy deserves some love too, don’t you think? She may have been in the wrong, but it’s not nice to make her cry like that. Why don’t you go give her a hug, hm?”

With no further persuading necessary, she quickly padded over to you, hopping on your lap with so much enthusiasm that it nearly knocked the wind from you. Her arms tightly latched around your torso as she smushed her face into your chest, rubbing it back and forth like she was trying to burrow beneath your skin.

“I love you mommy,” her voice spoke clearly, any hint of previous sadness long gone. You sighed, relieved that this dramatic chapter was over as you pulled your daughter closer to you.

“I love you too.”

During this show of affection, Ren had made his way behind you, slinking so deftly you hadn’t even known he had moved until you heard him chuckle softly behind you.

“This is what I like to see,” he spoke with a sickeningly dreamy sigh, “nothing makes me happier than when my two girls are happy.”

He placed his hands gingerly atop your shoulders, trailing them down until they rested on your arms. His thumbs pressed gently against the marred skin, rubbing in a small circular motion in an attempt to subdue you. His claws grazed your flesh, uncomfortably scratching against you as they snagged against your skin.

He planted a firm and lingering kiss to the side of your head, pulling away just enough that his lips grazed the shell of your ear. “There really was nothing to cry about,” he whispered breathily, his words quiet enough that despite your daughters’ proximity, she would have no chance of hearing them. “It’s almost unfair how gorgeous you are, scars and all. But you must know that, right my sweet pet? I tell you all the time.”

Ren took in a deep breath, releasing it in a shaky sigh, “Seeing these scars reminds me of all we have been through, all that we share. They are a symbol of our bond.”

One of his claws pressed down sharply, a small bead of blood pooling around the piercing. Leisurely he began to drag his finger up your arm, a thin red line following in its wake. You shivered at the burning sensation, but deigned to give him any reaction further than that.

“Don’t forget pumpkin, these pretty marks are a reminder of my constant love for you.” He chuckled softly, peppering a few kisses to the back of your neck while his claws slowly sunk deeper, “And right now I am feeling  terribly sentimental, so for old times’ sake, why don’t I add a few more to remind you just how precious to me you are~?”