#i will not be on the side of humans if that happens | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

candy69gurl · 15 hours

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MISTAKEN TRUST

PAIRING Mahito x f!reader

SYNOPNSIS The reader is a kind person who likes feeding strays. Mahito is taken aback by her charity, which makes her the target of his scheme. Mahito uses her generosity to his advantage, transforming into a dog to capture the reader's attention and earn their trust. (Mahito is a virgin and he experiments with your body)

WARNING non/con, monster fucking, use of tentacles, slight somnophilic, fingering, use of elongated tongue (in mouth and pussy), bondage, dual penetration, use of all the holes), nipple sucking playing pinching, squirting, missonary, doggy, multiple orgasms, enlargement of dick, breast slapping, choking, face fucking, degradation, use of nicknames (toy), raw sex (cumming inside mouth, creampie, ass), clit nibbling & rubbing, over stimulation, mouth fucking after passing out, lactation & breeding kink

NOTE I understand that Mahito isn't universally liked, but believe me, he possesses the ability to provide infinite pleasures beyond what a typical human can offer. This story is tailored for readers who harbor a deep fascination with tentacles.

You make your way down the deserted alleyway, just below your apartment, the sound of your footsteps reverberating. Your gaze drawn towards the neon green eyes gleaming from the shadows at the alley's bend.

Today, you decided to bring a bit more food than usual, hoping to feed every last stray dog in the area. As you scan the alleyway, searching for the furry beings hiding in the shadows, you see them drawing near, detecting your scent and seemingly exhibiting trust in your presence. But, you notice something new - a puppy curled up in a corner, its eyes fixed on you intently. Something about those heterochromia eyes, the way they seem to peer straight into your soul, unsettles you, but you dismiss it as mere coincidence.

"Hey there, little one," you say softly, offering a piece of meat to the puppy. To your surprise, the puppy approaches you cautiously, accepting the food with tentative paws. As you continue to distribute food around the alley, that puppy sticks closely by your side, as if drawn to you. It's odd, but you can't help feeling a strange connection forming between you and the creature.

You notice that the other stray dogs keeping their distance from the peculiar puppy, as if they can sense something off about it. Under the moon's glow, the puppy's dull bluish fur and mismatched eyes catch your attention. As you attempt to feed the other dogs, they scamper away with their meat, an uncommon reaction for you. Your focus shifts to the newcomer puppy.

"Hmm, why do you think the others are acting this way?" you ask the puppy, petting its head gently. "You seem new here." The puppy licks your hand affectionately, seemingly unfazed by the behavior of its fellow canines.

In an instant, the scene shifts from tranquil to chaotic. A large black dog lunges at the newcomer, its jaws clamping down on the smaller puppy's paw with a sickening snap. You jump away in reflex, the sudden aggression startles you, and you instinctively step between the dogs, trying to shield the newcomer from harm. "Stop it!" you yell, your voice trembling with fear and anger.

Your eyes scan the street, seeking out for some stick or pebble to intervene and halt the fight. But suddenly, you hear a shrill, painful wail. You look back at them, the larger dog lets out a whimper before darting away, tail tucked between its legs. Its once-menacing demeanor replaced by fear and bewilderment.

You stare at the new puppy, wide-eyed, trying to comprehend what just happened. It raises its head, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of its mouth before turning back to you, tongue hanging out in satisfaction.

With a mix of concern and admiration, you bend down and carefully inspect the puppy's injured paw. Its tiny body trembles under your gentle touch, but it doesn't whimper or try to escape. Your heart aches for the small creature that defended itself so fiercely against the much larger dog.

"Brave little one, let me take you home" you whisper, cradling the puppy in your arms. Despite its injury, the puppy snuggles closer to you, its tail thumping against your chest in gratitude. "We'll take care of that wound once we get home. You shouldn't have to fight alone, buddy," you say, your voice thick with emotion. With the newfound bond between you and the puppy growing stronger, you make your way back to your apartment, determined to give it care and protection it deserves.

Little did you know that this act of kindness would bind you even more tightly to the enigmatic spirit, whose true intentions remain shrouded in mystery.

Upon returning home, you immediately tend to the puppy's wounded paw. Cleaning the injury, you apply a sterile dressing and wrap it securely with gauze. The puppy remains still throughout the process, its trust in you evident as it allows you to tend to its wounds without struggle. Then you wash him with your own shampoo. Once you finish, you offer the puppy some water, which it drinks eagerly.

"There we go, buddy," you murmur, stroking the puppy's head tenderly. "Just stay here with me for a bit longer. If I take you back there, what if you're attacked again?"

As you sit down on the couch, the puppy nestles into your lap, content and peaceful. You can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of responsibility towards this mysterious creature.

The puppy's unusual features start to catch your attention again. The dull bluish fur, the heterochromia eyes, the way it defended itself so ferociously – it's unlike any dog you've ever encountered. You begin to wonder about its origins, feeling a growing unease in your gut. You decide to do some research, pulling out your phone to search for breeds with similar features.

As you scroll through various results, none seem to match the unique characteristics of the puppy in your lap. A nagging suspicion starts to form in the back of your mind. "You know, I can't seem to find a breed that looks quite like you," you say, looking into the puppy's eyes.

As if understanding your thoughts, the puppy tilts its head, gazing back at you with those eerily intelligent eyes. For a brief moment, you swear its expression revealed a hint of mischief and amusement. But before you can examine further, the puppy closes its eyes and drifts off to sleep, its breathing steady and slow.

Carefully, you lay the puppy down on the bed, tucking a blanket around it to keep it warm. Exhausted from the events of the night, you join the puppy on the bed, wrapping your arm protectively around it as you close your eyes. Sleep comes slowly, your mind still grappling with the peculiarities of the evening. Eventually, the warmth of the puppy and the comfort of your safe space lull you into a deep slumber.

As you drift off to sleep, the puppy's eyes flicker open. With a barely perceptible shift in its form, its body begins to change. Stitches appear on its fur, spreading across the once furry surface. The heterochromia eyes intensify, taking on a life of their own. The puppy transforms into a humanoid-curse, Mahito.

He had been observing you from afar, admiring your every move, particularly your kindness. He noticed your fondness for organims and had to take advantage of it. He wanted to experiment with your mind and body. He had heard from Kenjaku that humans are incredibly sensitive during sex, and he wants to test it out. You were the ideal toy for it, so frail, sweet, and adorable. You were lonely so you took to feeding strays, he had been witnessing you feeding the dogs every night, and yes, that's the perfect time for him to get at you, so he transformed himself as an adorable little puppy to catch your attention.

Despite the transformation happening right beside you, you remain sound asleep, utterly oblivious to the changes occurring. Unnoticed by you, Mahito continues the playful facade, gently grasping your breast through your thin nightshirt. He revels in the texture, tracing the outline of your hardening nipple with his thumb. The sensation sends a thrill through him, fueling his curiosity about you.

His hand curves like a sharp claw, ripping your top extra carefully not to hurt you, exposing your bare breast to the cool air. His lips brush against the sensitive skin, sending a shiver down your spine, unbeknownst to you. He latches onto your nipple, the unexpected sensation causing you to stir slightly in your sleep. You moan softly, your brows creasing in confusion and pleasure.

So these are female breasts.. I heard they start milking if pregnant. So what if I make her pregnant with my baby curses? his eyes gazing your hardened nipples glistening with his saliva.

Mahito sucks harder, relishing the satisfying response he receives. He finds himself entranced by the experience, both sensual and twisted. He can't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation – tormenting a sleeping victim while they remain blissfully ignorant. He can't stop thinking about the ways he is going to play with your body, as he continues his assault. The thought excites him even more, and he sucks harder, his hands roaming freely over your body.

"Humans are so foolish", he whispers mockingly, his voice almost inaudible. His actions become bolder, exploring areas he knows you wouldn't allow if conscious. You squirm beneath him, your body responding to the unwanted touches. Despite your protests in your dreams, Mahito pays no heed, intent on testing the limits of your subconscious mind.

A smile plays on his lips as he observes your reaction, enjoying the control he's gained over you. Ignoring your half-hearted attempts to resist in your sleep, Mahito pulls down your panties, revealing yourself to him fully. His grin widens, fascination etched on his face as he gazes upon your naked form.

His fingers gazing your folds, your clit trying to find the way to your vagina. Found it, with lightning-fast reflexes, he inserts his fingers into you, plunging deep and eliciting a sharp intake of breath from you. Your dreams fill with panic and discomfort as you struggle to escape his grasp but to no avail.

Your subconscious mind begs for release, but Mahito merely laughs, his fingers moving in a rhythm meant to tease and torment. He leans in close, whispering into your ear, "Welcome to my game, toy." Your dream self twists and turns, unable to escape his grip. Each thrust of his fingers brings a gasp, your body betraying you even as you plead in your sleep.

So helpless, Mahito smirks, his fingers shifting pace and pressure, eliciting a mixture of pain and pleasure from within you. He watches as you squirm beneath him, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Just as you're about to reach your breaking point, Mahito abruptly stops his assault. Instead, he leans down and gently nibbles on your clitoris; his tongue elongating, delving into your spasming hole, triggering an electric shock of sensation that shatters your unconscious resistance. Your eyes fly open, gasping as you come back to reality. Panic courses through you as you realize what's happening, your mind struggling to comprehend the situation. Mahito raises his head, locking gaze with you, "Looks like you are awake-"

When your legs suddenly move and you kick him square in the nose, his nose immediately begins to bleed. "W-who the fuck are you?"

He gives a creepy grin, and your eyes widen as you see him recover in an instant. You attempt to push him away, but he effortlessly avoids your flailing leg, maintaining his position above you. His eyes glint with mischievous delight at your shocked face, his smile never leaving his face. "I'm Mahito," he introduces nonchalantly, "and now that you're awake, our game can truly begin."

You try to scream, but the words catch in your throat. Fear washes over you like a tidal wave. Mahito's grin widens as a mass of pale, tentacles sprouts from his body from every direction. Your struggles become frantic, but his grasp proves too strong. Tentacles snaking from his body to wrap around your legs, pinning you firmly to the bed.

One of the tentacles reaches out to shove itself into your mouth, silencing your screams and forcing you into submission. "No need to scream," Mahito teases, his voice dripping with malice. "This is just the beginning. We have so much to explore."

Despite your efforts to free yourself, the tentacles tighten around your limbs, leaving you helpless and vulnerable. Mahito's fingers returning your core, resuming their invasion, delving deeper within you with each twist.

You swallow hard, tears pooling in your eyes as you look into his eyes filled with sadism. "You'll learn to enjoy it, toy," As if in response to his words, more tentacles emerge, wrapping themselves around your breasts and nipples. They constrict, rubbing your sensitive flesh painfully.

Simultaneously, Mahito's three fingers continue their assault, thrusting into you with brutal force. Pain and pleasure collide in a cacophony of sensations, your body shaking violently under his control.

Your eyes dart around the room, searching for a way out, but Mahito keeps his grip firm, his fingers never faltering in their rhythm. "Isn't it exciting?" he asks, his voice tinged with mirth. "Everything you've been missing out on, all the thrills and desires you've ignored. Now, you'll experience them all." His words cut through the chaos in your mind, igniting a spark of curiosity amidst the fear.

With a sudden harsh pinch on your nipples, you release a loud cry as you squirt under his persistent assault. Waves of orgasm wash over you, your body convulsing beneath his touch. Surprise flickers across Mahito's face, and then morphs into admiration. His fingers pause briefly, taking in the sight of you trembling before him. "Incredible, that tightness.. was.. Incredible" he breathes, his voice thick with approval. "Human bodies are incredible," he laughs maniacally.

His tentacle inside your mouth withdraws allowing you to breath. You gasp for air, your chest heaving. You want to run, scream, anything to break free from his hold, but you're paralyzed by fear and shame. Mahito's eyes gleam with triumph as he studies you, pulling his fingers out of you with a wet pop.

"Don't worry," he purrs, leaning in close, "this is just the beginning." He removes all the tentacles except the ones holding you down, letting go of your nipples and breasts.

"W-what are you, how did you get inside?", your voice, struggled. Mahito's grin widens, and he leans down to whisper into your ear, "I am a curse, and I can be anywhere I please." His voice is cold and calculating, promising more torment to come. His body leans over yours, towering you, and you feel his erection pressing against your thigh.

"Get ready, toy," he warns, "we have a lot to discover about each other." His fingers trace the curves of your body, making you shiver with anticipation and dread. As he positions himself between your legs, you struggle weakly against the tentacles restraining you.

"N-no..", you protest. "Yes," Mahito insists, his eyes burning with determination. "Keep resisting but you cannot escape from me." His fingers dig into your hips, pinning you down as he enters you roughly.

You cry out in pain and fear, your walls protesting against the invasion. Mahito thrusts harder, relishing the sounds coming from you. His laughter echoes in the room, filling every corner with his cruelty.

Still pinned under Mahito's weight, you lie there, breathing heavily as he continues his assault. His laughter subsides, replaced by a satisfied hum. As the tentacles retract, you're left exposed, your vulnerability laid bare. Your body remains tense, every muscle strained as you wait for what comes next. Mahito's thrusts become more aggressive, burying himself deep within you with each stroke.

The sheets below you crinkle loudly as you clutch them tightly, seeking solace from the intense stimulation. Mahito's movements sync with your orgasm's buildup, hitting all the right spots with precision. Your breath hitches, and your eyes squeeze shut as the wave of pleasure intensifies. Your body arches off the bed, unable to bear the intensity longer.

"That's it, toy," Mahito murmurs, his voice low and laced with triumph. "Let go, let yourself enjoy it."

Each thrust propels you closer to the edge, the anticipation building to a fever pitch. As you near climax, Mahito increases his pace, driving you towards the brink. His hands find your hips again, guiding you in a rhythm that matches his own. Your heart races, sweat breaks out on your brow as you gasp for air, your body betraying you once more.

"Let me feel you tighten once again." Mahito demands, thrusting faster, pushing you over the edge. You cry out, your orgasm crashing over you like a tsunami. Every contraction of your muscles around him reveals your surrender, your body giving in to his control. Mahito's thrusts become fierce, his own climax approaching rapidly, "Fuck... I will breed you."

As you reach your peak, Mahito follows suit, his own release imminent. His thrusts become erratic, his body shuddering with the force of his ecstasy. He drives deeper, his seed filling your womb, his pleasure intertwining with yours. His breaths are heavy and ragged, his teeth gritted in the height of his climax. Finally, Mahito slows his pace, his breaths steadied and his body relaxed. His weight rests on you, still inside you, yet the urgency was gone.

"I never... EVER .. imagined.. sex feels this good", he speaks through his gritted teeth. The air is thick with the scent of sex, the room resonating with the sounds of your pleasure. He leans down, inserting his elongated tongue into your mouth. Your tongue fighting with his but it lengthens further hitting your uvula. He retracts, his saliva dropping on your face, he smiles sheepishly before speaking again, "Round two?"

"Y-you got to be kidding me..", your eyes widen in anticipation. Mahito chuckles, a sound that puts goosebumps on your skin. He eases out of you slowly, his lingering arousal lending a sense of satisfaction to his actions. "Oh, I'm not done with you yet, toy," he says, tracing a lazy circle on your hip.

"You are a... W-what the hell are you?", you spat at him.

He laughs his member hardening once more ,"You haven't seen 1% of it.. Let me show you, what I can do", with that, pulls you by your ankle, rolling you on your stomach.

One by one, his long gone tentacles encircle your body again, trapping you to the bed with your ass raised high. Their grip is firm but not painful, securing you in a position that leaves you completely exposed. Mahito moves behind you, his erection throbbing with renewed vigor. His hands brush over your hips, sending shivers down your spine.

"Brace yourself, toy," he whispers, the hint of a smile in his voice. "I promised you new experience, didn't I?" He lines up his erection with your entrance, positioning himself for another round.

You curl your lip in disgust, your body trembling with fear and anger. "W-what do you get out of this?" you manage to ask, your voice hoarse from previous exertion.

Mahito's eyes gleam with interest, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. "Ah, I love to torment humans. Now I want to use the other hole you have."

Without warning, Mahito slams his cock already lubricated with your and his releases, into you, penetrating your ass with brutal ferocity. A cry escapes you, mingling with his harsh groan of satisfaction. With each thrust, your body jolts, the foreign invasion stretching you wide. The different angle sends shockwaves of discomfort coursing through you, your muscles protesting the violation.

Mahito's thrusts are rapid and unrestrained, each one driven by a hunger that knows no bounds. His hands roam over your body, exploring your curves with a possessive touch. "Feel the difference, toy," he taunts, his voice rough with desire. "I bet you never imagined this, did you?"

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you struggle against the tentacles restraining you. Each thrust is a painful reminder of your captivity. "Please... stop," you whimper, your voice raw and pleading.

"Aw, look at that pussy, clamping on nothing.. I feel bad for it", as soon as Mahito speaks the words, a tentacle slides into your throbbing pussy, stretching you even further. You gasp at the added sensation, your body trembling under the dual invasion. Mahito chuckles, his thrusts becoming more forceful at your reaction. "Looks like your body wants it, toy," he teases, enjoying your reaction.

Mahito's thrusts become more aggressive, driven by a single purpose - to make you lose control. The tentacle inside your pussy mimics his movements, creating friction that builds your pleasure higher. Your body writhes beneath him, the tentacles anchoring you securely to the bed.

"Fuck! Noooo", your whimpers turn into moans as Mahito's tentacle moves in perfect harmony with his cock, sending waves of pleasure and you beg, "Please..." , your voice filled with a mix of agony and delight. "I-I can't take anymore." Mahito's laughter fills the air, his thrusts growing harsher, matching the speed of the tentacle inside you.

"Can't take it?" Mahito snarls, his voice dripping with malice. "You'll take everything I dish out, toy." He plunges deeper, his fingers digging into your hips. The tentacle inside you mirrors his actions, stroking your most sensitive spots.

Your body convulses, caught between pleasure and pain, as Mahito drives you towards the edge. Your cries fill the room, a testament to the chaos within you. Just as you reach your breaking point, Mahito's voice rings out, sharp and commanding, "Cumming again? yet you say you don't like it?"

With a sharp intake of breath, you succumb to the sensations overwhelming you. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body shaking uncontrollably.

As your orgasm peaks, Mahito thrusts harder, his own release drawing near. The tension between you becomes palpable, the air charged with your combined pleasure. Finally, he lets out a fierce growl, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train. He pulses inside you, spilling his seed deep within your ass.

His fingers dig into your hips, holding you steady as he finishes. The tentacle inside you withdraws, leaving behind a trail of lingering sensitivity. Your eyes roll, panting heavily as the shudders subside. His eyes revel in your disheveled state, his victory complete.

"Well, wasn't that entertaining?" Mahito asks, his voice laced with satisfaction. The tentacles releasing their hold on you, letting you fall onto the bed in a heap. He steps back, his erection retreating from your ass with a lewd sound. The sudden emptiness makes you wince, your body still adjusting to the aftermath, your eyelids blinking as you start seeing all white.

"No No sweetheart, you cannot passout, not yet, I have seen humans taking more than this" Mahito lifts you effortlessly, your limbs dangling loosely. Your clothes, now torn and ruined, falling away from your body, ripped apart by his razor-sharp tentacles. Naked and vulnerable, you hang in midair, the reality of your situation settling in.

Despite your battered state, Mahito seems pleased with his work. He examines you, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. Then again, Mahito guides his still-erect penis between your legs. He positions himself at your entrance, the tip brushing against your swollen flesh. With a cruel grin, he thrusts inside you, burying himself deep in your pussy. The remnants of his seed trickle from your ass, making a messy contrast against the fresh invasion.

Your body winces at the stretch, but you offer no resistance. Your mind is numb, unable to process the brutality you've endured. Mahito's thrusts are slow and deliberate, relishing in your broken state. The sight of his seed leaking from your ass only fuels his lust further.

"I love this hole, so sensitive," Mahito coos, his breath hot against your ear.

Huddled against Mahito's chest, your body quakes with every thrust. Your face rests against him, exhausted and defeated. Tears streak down your cheeks, mixing with sweat and arousal. In this moment, you're nothing more than a toy to be played with, incapable of escape or resistance.

Mahito grins, enjoying your submission. His thrusts become more frenzied, driven by his arousal and dominance. His grip tightens, holding you firmly against him. "Why'd you stop making those sweet sounds?" he awes, his voice tinged with satisfaction. "Already got used to my cock?"

Drool trickles down your chin, evidence of your surrender. Your eyes roll back, lost in the sensations he's inflicting upon you. Mahito's thrusts become more erratic, his pleasure escalating alongside yours. "Now now, I cannot enjoy when my toy is not responding."

In a sudden burst of power, Mahito enlarges his erection. Your body screams in protest, the unexpected expansion threatening to tear you apart. Your head thumps against his chest involuntarily, your cries muffled by the contact.

"Oh, look at that!" Mahito exclaims, amused by your reaction. "Fits perfectly now!" His thrusts become faster, the new size of his cock stretching you impossibly.

"G-gonna die.. p-please stop", your hands grip his hair, pulling some of his strands, out of pain.

Mahito chuckles, his thrusts continuing relentlessly. "Not tonight, toy," he promises, his words thick with delight. "Just a little more and you'll be begging for more."

Your pleas fall on deaf ears, drowned out by his laughter. Your body betrays you, your orgasm edging closer with every brutal thrust. His hand cups your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his.

"See? Pain and pleasure, intertwined," he murmurs, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "It's beautiful, isn’t it?"

Your breath hitches, your body betraying you once more. "P-please..." you whisper, the edges of your orgasm sharpening.

"What is it, toy?" Mahito asks, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Ask nicely, and maybe I'll grant your wish."

Trembling, you struggle to find your voice. "Make... make me cum again," you manage, your body trembling on the precipice of ecstasy. "Please..."

Mahito smirks, the tension in your body a clear indicator of your impending climax. He increases his pace, driving you closer to the edge. "Oh?," he purrs, your torment his entertainment.

Mahito's thrusts become frantic, your body clenching around him as you teeter on the edge of another orgasm. Your pleas grow louder, the raw desperation palpable. "Please," you whine, your nails digging into his chest. "I need it, please!"

He leans down, his lips grazing your ear. "What a change.."

Two tentacles snake around your waist, holding you securely in place. Mahito's thrusts grow even more intense, the pain from his girthy shaft bruising your insides. You cry out, unable to take all the pleasure inflicted on you.

"Such thrilling sounds," Mahito murmurs, his thrusts growing more desperate. Your body arches, desperate for relief.

One of Mahito's tentacles slithers towards your ass, entering with ease. The remnants of his earlier release drip down, mingling with your fluids. Your body convulses, the dual invasion pushing you closer to the brink.

You bite your lip hard, tears streaming down your face. Mahito's laughter fills the room, his enjoyment apparent.

"Ah, so humans enjoy pain this much?" Mahito says, his voice thick with

One of Mahito's tentacles strikes your breast, the slap leaving a faint red mark. His other tentacle wraps around your neck, cutting off your airflow. Simultaneously, another finds your clitoris, rubbing insistently.

Your body convulses, the torment pushing you to the edge. The tentacle around your neck tightens, the mix of pain and pleasure overwhelming you.

You gasp, struggling to breathe. Despite the suffocation, your body reacts to the stimulation. "You like that, don't you?" Mahito taunts, the tendril on your clit picking up its pace. "The perfect balance of discomfort and ecstasy."

With every thrust, you're propelled closer to the edge. Your lungs burn, the need to breathe overshadowed by your mounting orgasm, your body writhing beneath his assault

Finally, you crest the wave. Your body shudders, the simultaneous assault of pain and pleasure catapulting you into oblivion. A scream rips from your throat as you lose yourself in the rush. Mahito watches, his own release imminent.

His tentacles tighten, his thrusts growing more urgent. With a savage roar, Mahito empties himself within you, his semen flooding your core. His hold on you doesn't loosen until he's finished, your body limp in his grasp. He pulls out slowly, his dick turning to it's original size, the remnants of his seed spilling from your body. The tentacle around your neck releases you last, giving way for you to gasp for air.

"Now, wasn't that lovely?" Mahito asks, his breath ragged. He caresses your cheek, his expression a mix of satisfaction and amusement.

You stare up at him, your chest heaving as you catch your breath. Tears stream down your face, the lingering throbbing between your legs a testament to the experience.

"Don't look at me like that, I am not done experimenting your body" Mahito sets you roughly, onto the bed, before you can react.

"Open up.. Time to use this mouth," he commands, his erection aimed at your mouth. Reluctantly, you obey. Mahito slides into your mouth, your tongue swirling around him tasting the essence of sex, as he starts to thrust.

At the same time, his tentacles find their way back into your already sensitive holes, resuming their invasive dance. Your eyes widen in shock, your mind reeling from the intensity. The combination of sensations overwhelms you - Mahito's cock in your mouth, his tentacles in your most intimate places. You struggle to keep up, your mind spinning.

Mahito's thrusts grow more forceful, his grip firm on your hair. "Oh yes, so good," he praises, his movements intensifying. The tendrils in your ass and pussy follow suit, stretching your limits. Your moans mingle with his grunts, filling the room with raw emotion.

"I told you, I'm not done yet," Mahito growls, his voice thick with lust. He punctuates his words with deep thrusts, his eyes locked on yours. You writhe beneath him, unable to escape the onslaught, throat buldging with each thrust.

Your mind races, trying to process the sensations coursing through you. The dual penetrations are overwhelming. It isn't long before the onslaught becomes too much. Each movement triggers a fresh wave of pleasure, your body reaching its breaking point. Your orgasm collides with you, washing away everything else, your nails digging into the sheets. Mahito picks up on your reaction, his thrusts turning feral. The tentacles in your ass and pussy synchronize, driving you to the brink. Your eyes roll back, your mind spiraling into oblivion. Just as you reach the peak, you lose consciousness. Mahito's cock remains in your mouth, your world fading to black.

Despite your unconsciousness, Mahito continues his relentless assault. He thrusts deeper, pounding into your mouth with renewed vigor. Your lips clamp down instinctively around him, your body still writhing in response to his actions.

With a final roar, Mahito releases, his seed filling your mouth. Your body jerks involuntarily, swallowing involuntarily as he floods your mouth. The tendrils in your holes retreat, satisfied with their work. Mahito slows down, his breathing heavy. He gazes down at you, a twisted smirk playing on his lips.

"That was... quite the performance," he muses, pulling out of your mouth. "I must say, I rather enjoyed that." He leans closer, his gaze flickering on your unconscious face, ''Gonna stick around you for a while" His smirk widens into a grin, his voice low and taunting.

He steps back, leaving you sprawled on the bed, his semen still dripping from your lips. A chilling laugh echoes in the room then, everything goes silent.

You lay there, breath ragged and heart racing, even in your unconscious state. The taste of Mahito lingers on your tongue, his semen a bitter reminder of what just occurred.

The next morning dawns, casting sunlight through the window. As your eyes flutter open, remnants of fear linger in your subconscious. Glancing beside you, you see the puppy nestled in the same spot it occupied since last night. Your mind churns with the haunting remnants of the nightmares that plagued your sleep. Sensing your wakefulness, the puppy springs into action, leaping onto you with eager excitement. Its innocent gaze meets yours, tenderly licking your cheek and nuzzling its head against yours, eliciting a smile from you. In that moment, the memory of the night's unsettling experience (was it bad?) fades into the background, replaced by the warmth and affection of your furry companion.

Suddenly, you experience a sensation—the unmistakable feeling of pain spreading throughout your entire body. You pull the blankets away from your body.. There you are.. Lying naked, bruises and marks all over your body.

You look back at the puppy who's demeanor is now changed. It glances up at you, a mocking expression crossing its features. It bares its teeth in a twisted imitation of Mahito's smirk, its eyes gleaming with malice. The resemblance is uncanny, causing your stomach to turn.

For a moment, it seems as if the puppy speaks, its thoughts seeping into your mind. ''You'll never escape me,'' Panic sets in, realizing the disturbing truth. The puppy is indeed a part of Mahito, a manifestation of his twisted control over you.

''Wait! Who are you?'' you demand, scooting away from the creature. ''What... what does he want from me?''

The puppy tilts its head, its stance shifting to mimic Mahito's smug attitude. It gives you another smirk, identical to Mahito's menacing grin from the previous night.

Your heart races, and you freeze. Could it really be Mahito's doing? Or is it just your imagination playing tricks on you?

Frustration bubbles over, and you finally snap. With a sudden burst of anger, you strike the puppy, sending it tumbling off the bed. It lands on the floor with a soft thud, yelping in surprise.

''Get away from me, dog,'' you croak, pushing him away with a weak hand. ''This ain't funny anymore.''

The puppy whines softly, tilting its head as if confused. Its eyes seem almost pleading, begging you to accept its affection.

Feeling vulnerable and violated, you push yourself up. ''Go away,'' you insist, glaring at the small creature.

But the puppy persists, nuzzling against you, seeking comfort. Tears fill the puppy's eyes as it cowers, tail tucked between its legs. ''Don't... don't hurt me... please,'' it seems to beg, its pitiful whimpers echoing in the room, "please trust me."

Dividers from @/cafekitsune

IF YOU WANT A PART 2 PLEASE COMMENT

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jinuaei · 2 days

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I can offer you an idea of yandere alastor.. What would it be like if alastor as a child knew the reader... Like I imagine alastor as a child not knowing how to act properly like a human, and the reader as a good best friend helping him seems more human (and not because the child reader is scared of him) ... Actually, what would happen?

Wrote this instead of working on my finals hope you enjoyed it!

Yandere! Alastor x Childhood friend! Reader

Warning: Animal death, blood, its YANDERE

WC: ~1.5k

Charlie dragged the whole hotel for another ‘trust’ session, this time, she had the great idea for the sinners to share stories from when they were alive. Granted, some of them were eager to share, namely Nifty and Angel Dust, Husk would share some here or there, although it's mostly due to Charlie and Angel pushing him to. Alastor on the other hand kept quiet during the whole ordeal, until the topic of childhood friends came up.

“I had a childhood friend once, such a sweetheart. Wouldn't leave me alone to play with others!,” Alastor let the statement linger in the air, casually sipping on his coffee.

The other members of the Hotel look aat him with mouths agape, shocked and surprised at the fact that THE Alastor, Radio Demon, Dealmaker, HAD FRIENDS? Moreover, a childhood friend?? Someone stayed friends with him since they were children???

“Don't look at me like I am incapable of having proper friendships, and no, you cannot ask them about me as a child because they're simply not a sinner! Oh imagine my disappointment when I didn't find them down here,” his eyes glazed over in slight rage as he thought about how you weren't here.

Very disappointing that I will never be able to hold my beloved again. What I would do to be able to chain them to my side once more…

“Well don't leave us hangin’, whose this sweetheart of you’s?,” the white spider interjected.

He tells them your name, sighing dreamily as he starts to reminisce about the times you were together when you were children.

You were the child of one of his momma's clients, a bubbly little thing, always eager to play with him regardless of how cold he is to you.

His momma was your family's personal tailor, and by God were you a spoiled little thing. Every week you would ask for 2-3 outfits to be created for you, although it looked more like costumes than everyday wear but he doesn't complain, as long as your family treated him and his momma with respect.

Nonetheless, he refuses to be close to you, considering you as a bother, but of course, he would never admit that to you, lest he wants his momma to get in trouble.

He hasn't always looked forward to when his momma brings him to your house, namely due to you clinging to him every time you meet. There's one thing in your mansion that he’s quite fond of though, once he manages to escape from your grasp, he sneaks into the woods behind your house, gazing at all the wildlife roaming around your property.

One time, he found an injured bird crying close to him, it tried to get away from him but he eventually caught it in a tight grip, it chirped and cried but Alastor just gripped tighter and tighter until, pop!

Blood trailed down his hands and onto the forest floor below, unbeknownst to him, he had a huge grin on his face, too pleased with the mutilation of the poor bird. A gasp resonates behind him and he quickly drops the bird, face stilling at the fact that he got caught.

When he turned his body to you, your eyes were full of tears staring at his hands that he didn't bother to hide. He prepared himself to hunt you down to make sure you wouldn't tattle on his momma but your next words made him stop in place.

“Are you okay???” you rushed to his side, pulling out a handkerchief and started to wipe off the blood coating his stained hand.

In response, the child looked at you aghast, stupefied at the concern you were showing, marking yourself vulnerable to the predator towering over your much shorter build. He could kill you if he could, he can lie and tell your parents that a bear found both of you and killed you, that he tried to save you but was unable to. But then again… as you fret over him, a thought passes through his mind.

You are too kind for your own good, just like momma. Don't worry I’ll protect you.

Alastor raises the now somewhat clean hand, and he notes how you didn't even flinch at it, and just looked at him with your wide, innocent eyes. The hand lowers to pat you on the head, ruffling your hair a little bit.

“I am fine, I tried to save a bird but it was too hurt to be saved,” he shows off the bird, face devoid of any emotions.

You frowned at it and suddenly went on your knees and started digging a grave with your hands.

Alastor furrowed his eyebrows and questioned what you were doing, you responded with, “I’m digging a grave for the birdie, I don't want them to die without a proper burial.”

The boy helped you after a few moments of silence. Once you were done, you clasped your hands together, covered in dirt and blood, silently looking at him to do the same. Look at you, as a child of a rich man you shouldn't be on your knees covering yourself in filth, but perhaps he should indulge his angel for a little bit.

As you started praying he couldn't help but let the bitterness consume his mind. God wouldn't care about frivolous things like this, prayers do nothing, if it did, how come he and his momma are still at the mercy of that monster of a man he calls his father?

“Amen.”

You offer your filthy hand to him, gazing at him with a smile that could rival the sun. Perhaps the only good thing that God has done, is sending down an angel for him to play with.

“You should smile more, you look very pretty,” he raises an eyebrow at that, startled by your bluntness. Admittedly, he can feel himself flush at your compliment.

“Do you like it when I smile?” he hums, taking your hand. Both of you started to walk back to your manor.

“I do! Mommy always said ‘you’re never fully dressed without a smile’ and that's why I always smile!”

“Then I'll smile a lot for you,” he tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

“You're doing it wrong! It's like this,” you show off your smile, toothy and wide.

He tries again and ultimately fails, you pout at him cutely when he failed, and he couldn't help but smile, genuinely smile at that. In response you shout out ‘like that!’, and start vibrating in excitement that you managed to make him smile.

It was almost nightfall when you eventually managed to get home safely, albeit covered in dirt and grime. What greeted you both were your father, stressed beyond belief, and his mother, on the verge of tears. They both rushed to you guys and hugged the both of you, fretting and scolding at how worried they are, they asked you and Alastor what happened and you, being the loudmouth you are, told them the story that you know.

Both adults are relieved to hear that you both are safe, they rushed you to clean yourselves up. Ever since then, Alastor has been looking forward to every visit they had to your house. And every single visit has been a learning moment for him, day by day he learns what you like and what you don't like.

You like gentlemen? The next time you meet, he offers you his arm to hold. Do you like poetry? He memorizes your favourite poems to recite whenever you're bored. Do you like food and cooking? He begs his momma to teach him her infamous Jambalaya and other comfort foods to cook for you.

Alastor molded himself to become your ideal man, the most perfect gentleman that ever existed in your life. But then…

“Then what...? But then what??” Angel exclaimed when Alastor trailed off with a cliffhanger. Everyone leaned towards him, captivated by the story he shared. He smiles cryptically, but still doesn't respond.

“Oh well, it seems like it's almost supper time, I should work on it, wouldn't want to be late for dinner hmm?”

Everyone collectively groaned at the cliffhanger, they wanted to know what happened after, but they couldn't complain much lest they want to be part of Alastor's radio broadcast.

Alastor turns away from them, humming to himself as he walks towards where the kitchen is.

But then you had to die as a saint. You had to marry that disgusting excuse of a man you called your husband, and now he killed you. My beloved, was I not enough? Was I not perfect for you? You would have been safe if you were with me… Don't worry, I made sure that ‘husband’ of yours regretted ever hurting you. May this be an offering to my angel.

A haunting scream pierces through hell, amplified by the speakers scattered around the pride ring.

Support me here so I would be more likely to write more fics 🤭

#yandere x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere hazbin hotel x reader #yandere alastor x reader #yandere alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor x you #Hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel

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vivwritesfics · 2 days

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Hungry Like The Wolf

Chapter Five

She hadn't seen her best friend, Lando, in years. She didn't run into him the last time she was visiting her father and she doubted she'd see him this time. Things were different now. She wasn't aware of his furry little problem. Just like she wasn't aware of the vampires plaguing the town.

1.7K

Vampire!Oscar x Reader x Werewolf!Lando

Series Masterlist

If Oscar played chess, he would have been good at it. Every move he made was calculated, always two steps ahead of everybody else.

She probably didn't realise their dinner date was on the full moon. How could she know it had any significance when she didn't even know what was happening in this town?

The air was electric as he drove through the wolf side of town. He was really pushing his luck, driving through on a full moon. He was scheming and calculating, sure, but he was still a gentleman. He'd never had driven through on a full moon if he didn't have to pick her up.

He could feel it, could see the way someone stared at him. Probably a piercing, yellow stare. If he didn't knock on her door, he was sure whoever it was would have been pouncing on him, pulling him into the woods for some stern 'words'.

But then she answered the door, looking so pretty in her sweater and skirt combination. "Hey," she said as she turned around and pulled the door shut.

"Ready to go?" Asked Oscar as he offered her his arm.

She took it with a smile that was too kind for this town and walked with him over to the car. He pulled the car door open for her, looking around for a flash of yellow as she climbed in.

In the garden of the house opposite her own, Oscar saw it. Yellow eyes. He smirked, knowing full well the wolf could see it all, and climbed into the car.

As he drove, he let her talk. It wasn't anything important, what some would describe as mindless dribble, but Oscar still listened. Like I said, he was a gentleman.

As soon as he was out of the wolf side of town, he relaxed. His shoulders dropped and he released a breath, his grip on the steering wheel easing. He could hear a howl behind him, and it only made him smirk.

The restaurant Oscar had picked was run by Vampires. At first, things had been hard for Vampires in this town. Integrating into this society had seemed impossible. But, over time, they'd found a way. They'd gotten jobs, opened restaurants that catered to both human and Vampire, even if the humans didn't know it.

Oscar was a gentleman. He opened the door to the restaurant for her and pulled out her seat.

What can I really say about the dinner? Oscar was so lovely throughout the entire thing. He was funny in a way she hadn't expected (not that she hadn't expected him to be funny).

(Oscar couldn't eat human food. The food they placed in front of him wasn't real food, was designed to melt in his mouth. No, his real meal was in the glass in front of him, disguised as wine.)

When the date was over, he drove her back to her house. Of course, Oscar paid for the meal. He gave the waiter a tip (after a hundred years alive, he knew how to impress a woman) and took her hand as he led her back to his car.

But there was already someone at his car. Oscar ran his tongue over his teeth as they approached, keeping his hand on the small of her back.

"Logan."

Logan was Oscar's best friend and the first person to find out his date. If he was waiting at Oscar's car, then it was because of some kind of emergency.

The smile Logan wore was shy yet charming as he offered her his hand. "Hi," he said, his pointed teeth poking into his bottom lip. The Vampires had no reason to panic, though. Such a small view of his teeth were offered that nothing looked out of the ordinary to a Human that didn't suspect anything. "I'm Logan."

She gave him her name as she shook his hand.

"I'm really sorry about this, but I need to borrow Oscar," he said, his smile still polite.

She looked to Oscar and nodded her head. "That's more than fine," she said and stepped towards the car.

Immediately, Oscar pulled the keys from his pocket and unlocked the car. He pulled open the passenger side door for her and took her hand as he helped her into the car. "I'll back back in a minute," he said and shut the door, shutting her in the car.

He looked towards Logan and gestured for him to follow. Logan did just that. He followed Oscar away from the car, into a part of the car park with little light. But the two Vampires could still see clearly. They knew she was watching them, but let her watch. As long as she couldn't hear them.

"You've been pissing off the wolves," Logan said with the shake of his head, clearly amused.

Oscar shrugged his shoulders, but he couldn't hide the way the corner of his lips turned up. "Really?" He said through a dramatic gasp. "You don't say."

The scoff that left Logan's lips wasn't supposed to piss Oscar off. And it didn't, Oscar knew him too well for that. "Daniel came by after you picked her up for your date. He said that Lando is mad, and he's gonna be waiting for you in the woods around the back of her house," he said, nodding back towards the car.

Oscar couldn't help but laugh. "Really?" He asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. "He's seriously going to wait for me?" When Logan nodded, Oscar let out a quiet 'pathetic'.

"Do you want me to follow behind?" Logan offered, but Oscar shook his head.

"I got it."

He said his goodbyes to Logan and headed back to his car. She was giving him a smile, one that was encouraging and reassuring. Even if she didn't know what was going on.

"Sorry about that," Oscar said as he climbed into the car. He checked the time on his watch. "Is your dad gonna kill me for getting you home late?" He asked as he pulled out of the car park.

A melodic laugh left her lips. "You realise I'm an adult, right, Osc? I think I'm older than you."

Compared to him, she was just a baby. But he wasn't going to tell her that. He was going to let her believe that he wasn't a hundred years old.

He pulled up outside of her house. Oscar opened the door for her and took her hand to help her out of the car. He kept a hold of her hand as he walked her up to the front door. "I had a really nice time tonight, Oscar," she said as she looked up at him, making no move to open the door.

"We'll have to do this again sometime," he said. If his smile showed off his teeth, he didn't much care. But then there was a howl from the woods, and Oscar knew he had to leave. He let out a sigh and looked at their shoes. "I need to go," he said and squeezed her hand.

He stepped away from her, walked back towards his car. "Wait!" He heard her call, stopping him in his track.

There was mere seconds between Oscar turning around and her crashing into him, her lips against his own. Oscar's hands were immediately on her waist, holding her steady as he pressed his lips to her own. But, when she tried to part his lips, Oscar pulled away. Another night.

His forehead was against her own. "I'll be back, I promise."

"Tonight?" She asked, breathlessly.

Oscar drew in a sigh. He immediately knew what she was asking. And, as much as he wanted to, he couldn't. "Not tonight," he answered and immediately saw her face drop.

Oscar kissed her again, this time quickly. "I want to," he assured her, and she set out a breath against him. "I just... I'm scared of your dad."

She laughed against him and released him. "Next time," she said, and Oscar left a promise with a kiss.

He watched as she walked back to the house and let herself in. Even then, Oscar stayed. He climbed into his car and waited until he could see her walk into her bedroom before he drove off.

He didn't drive very far, just parked his car out of the view of her house and made his way back to the woods.

Lando was easy to find. All Oscar had to was follow the sounds of snarling. Of course Oscar was snarling. His emotions was amped up with the full moon overhead.

"Oscar!" Lando barked.

There he stood, curls falling in front of his forehead as he stared at Oscar, chest heaving. His fists were clenched at his sides, veins visible up his arms. Oscar had never seen him look so goddamn angry before. It was... hot.

"What're you doing with her?"

"Maybe I like her," Oscar answered as he leaned against a tree. He watched as Lando stalked towards him, only slightly looking down at him. "Is that really the end of the world?"

Lando's fists shook. "Are you gonna turn her?"

Oscar laughed, heading hitting the tree behind as he threw it back. "We've been on one date, Norris. Don't overreact."

"Damn it, Oscar!" Lando suddenly called, his hitting the tree beside Oscar's head.

Maybe it was the way Lando said it, Oscar couldn't really tell what compelled his next steps. But, suddenly his hands were around Lando's neck as he kissed him.

There was a good minute where Lando was still, eyes wide as he felt Oscar's lips against his own. Part of him couldn't quite believe it was happening, but he didn't go to move away. He'd never admit to enjoying it, but the fact that he didn't move away told Oscar all he needed to know.

When Oscar pulled away, there was only one thing on Lando's mind. His lips. They tasted like her. His brows were furrowed, eyes furious as he kissed him again, pressing his body against the tree.

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blindmagdalena · 3 days

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Guilty Pleasures ( chapter four )

18+ 5.2k homelander x plus size f!reader. office romance, stalking, voyeurism, office sex, cunnilingus, cream pie, breast play, flight sex, lite overstim, riding. nebulously takes place post s1. part 4/4. AO3 link. CH I CH 2 CH 3

Homelander takes what's his, and you get what's yours.

welcome to the final chapter! thanks so much for reading. i really enjoyed the dynamic between these two, and i hope you do, too. 🖤

Homelander doesn’t hold it against you that you take him up on his suggestion to be absent the following day. He leaves a little peace offering in your office to say as much: a mug for your collection that reads simply, You’ve Been Mugged. He adjusts it seven times on your desk before he finally leaves it alone, surveying your office a while before letting himself out.

The thugs he lasered down in the alley don’t garner much attention, but it’s enough to warrant a statement on the truth of what happened. With them dead, the truth becomes whatever he makes of it, and his truth is that two vagabonds were assaulting a cherished Vought employee before he put a stop to it.

It’s precisely the kind of hero story the public loves.

“I acted on instinct,” he tells the newscaster. He relives the moment as he tells it, recalls only to himself how fierce you had been. How determined you were that if you were going to die, you would die fighting. “They were going to hurt her. I like to believe any good citizen in my position would have done the same.”

Madelyn taught him that conviction without contrition would always read as arrogance, so he speaks firmly but with a furrow to his brow, and he closes his eyes when he inclines his head to accept praise. No matter how dead she is, her voice remains an echo in his mind: follow the script, and you’ll be fine.

They use his words to segue into a discussion of gun control, and Homelander’s mind drifts somewhere distant, hearing without listening to the petty squabbles of humans crying about their little toys and laws. He supposes this is how God feels when humans pray to Him over every minor inconvenience. Bored and painfully above it.

While it’s easy enough to keep himself distracted during business hours, Homelander’s life comes to an abrupt halt alongside the end of the working day. Like the equipment that broadcasts him, there’s little use for him once the cast and crew goes home. All around him the employees commiserate at the end of their work day and pass around invitations to the bar.

He receives none.

Not that he would accept them if he did.

Seeking both council and companionship, Homelander finds himself in Noir’s apartment, seated in the chair Noir keeps for him. It’s the only one the hero owns, what with his interior design being deeply steeped in westernized ninja nonsense. The place is half dojo, half living quarters.

He laments his situation to Noir, explaining his patience in courting you, the lengths he’s gone to endear himself to you on a personal level, and the bitter sting of your rejection.

“See her,” Noir writes in his sketchpad, sitting on the floor on the other side of the low table. “If glad to see her, good. If not–”

Homelander snorts at the series of knife sketches that follow. He has no doubt Noir would put an end to anyone for any reason Homelander gave. Simplicity has allowed Noir an unwavering loyalty to Vought, and as an extension, Homelander himself. Luckily for you, he has no interest in that happening. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Noir,” he muses, clapping his hands on his thighs before he stands up. “You’re right. I’ll go see her. Thanks, buddy.”

Noir offers two thumbs up. A true uproar of approval.

Under the cover of darkness, Homelander returns to your house, the flight path a familiar one now. He lands silently on your roof this time, cocking his head. He’s not confident he’ll be able to resist your siren pull if he approaches now. He folds his hands behind his back and peers through each layer between him and your bedroom, stopping when he can see you.

You’re nestled deep in the splay of your blankets, lips parted around shallow breaths. He bites his own bottom lip, remembering how badly he’d wanted to feel them. Taste them. He’s certain now that if he allowed himself to be close enough, he would. Denial, for as much as it stung in that moment, has only made him hungrier for you. Fuck, the way he’s craved you from the moment you first brushed him aside.

He watches you shift in your sleep and his eyes narrow, honing in on a familiar flash. His stomach flips–it’s his cape, the fabric pinned between your blanket and your body. You really are sleeping with it, the star spangled blue fabric tucked up under your chin. Do you smell him on it? Homelander groans softly. Like your underwear in his bedside drawer, you sleep with a trophy of your own.

“Fuck,” he says, aching. His heart, his mind, his cock–all of it at once a cacophony of vicious yearning and impatience. The urge to peel the roof like a sardine can and carve his way straight to you nearly knocks the wind out of him, has him preemptively reaching for the shingled surface.

Only the lingering wound to his ego gives him pause. He’s been bitten once, leaving him shy to instigate, but this revelation feels like progress. You’re aching for him as much as he is for you. He’s sure of that now. It’s time that he made you feel that ache. Feel his absence. Then you’ll realize the foolishness of your coy game.

Clenching his jaw defiantly, Homelander lifts up into the sky.

He’ll be benevolent when you come to your senses.

The next day, Homelander keeps himself scarce, preoccupied. Ashley is perkier than usual, thrilled–if not suspicious–with his easy participation in whatever inane business she brings to him. It helps distract him from the endless feeling of waiting that he’s enduring.

He sticks stubbornly to his schedule, fantasizing about the torment his avoidance has surely wrought. He’s tempted a time or two to break, but each time he remembers the mortified Oh! you uttered before he kissed you, he refocuses himself.

You’ll come.

Not before lunch, but that is the perfect opportunity for it. He makes himself more available then, tapping his fingers against the armrest of his chair.

No sign of you.

He gives you the benefit of the doubt. A meal to embolden you.

Then you’ll come.

He waits.

Lunch long since over.

He waits.

The day is winding down.

He’s fucking tired of waiting.

Where the hell are you? He’s given you the entirety of the day to seek him out, ample opportunity to come thank him for his gift, to address the aching thing ruminating between you. You’d be a fucking liar to say you don’t feel it, too. By midday, he’s seething with impatience and hurt. There’s no chance he’s going to let you stand him up.

It’s precisely the wrong time for Ashley to rear her head back up. “Okay! That’s that, now regarding the amnesty for–”

“Ashley!” He snaps, a harsh and throaty sound. “Would you shut the fuck up?”

She stops in her tracks, staring wide-eyed. Of course it was too good to be true.

Homelander all but leaps to his feet, pushing out of his chair so hard that it flips backwards and into the wall in a heavy clatter. She clutches her vPad to her chest and quickly back steps out of his way, watching in frightened bewilderment as he storms from the room, making a beeline towards your office.

He doesn’t bother knocking this time. Still, his restraint is undeniable when he pushes your door open. He barely catches himself from pushing the damn thing clean off the hinges.

Your head snaps up from your computer, eyes wide. He hears your heart jump and he savors the alarm that shoots through you. Payback for the awful misery you forced him to endure in the hours since he last saw you. Still, the sight of you disarms him. For all his seething anger, there is something small in him that retreats it when your eyes are on him.

There’s a heaviness to your gaze that his strength can do nothing to alleviate. No incredible feat of his can wrench away what it is he wants from you. What he needs. It’s something you have to give him willingly, and that alone is enough to temper his rage. The familiar fear that you won’t.

He marches to the front of your desk and levels an accusatory finger on you.

“You like me,” he hisses, bending to brace his opposite hand on your desk.

You blink owlishly, lips parted. That clearly wasn’t what you expected him to say. He’s not sure it’s what he meant to say. “Homelander–”

“No,” he says, voice pitched low, a warning. “No, no. No games, no workarounds. You like me. You do. And I like you. So,” he abandons his point to make a vague encompassing gesture, but he doesn’t know what to say next. He didn’t think this far ahead. All day he had practiced the calm benevolence he would show when you approached him, chastised and yearning. He has nothing to back up this frenzied play for.

You stand. Homelander rises to his full height with you, jutting his chin out. He watches you with all the wariness of a wounded predator as you circle around your desk, your hand gliding along the wood like you would flank a horse so as not to spook it.

He can’t determine the intent behind your gaze. He angles his body towards you, facing you head on. You look like yourself again, in your element and free from the fawn fear of the alley. He can’t entirely decide which way he prefers you. When you were in his arms, he was your hero. In your office, his position feels more precarious.

The silence stretches on for hours–or seconds, it’s impossible to say–before he can no longer stand it. Sucking in a breath, he–

You kiss him.

Homelander goes shock still, hyper aware of your lips pressed feather light to his, your breasts against his chest, your hand on his forearm. He doesn’t know when he closed his eyes, but he senses when you begin to pull away.

In a flash he cups your face in his hands and pulls you in deep, inhaling sharply, like he’s only just remembered how to breathe. He kisses you, kisses you, kisses you as if he can trap you in the cycle of it. You don’t resist, you don’t tense. Instead, you sigh an angel’s breath against his lips. Only then does he break to look at you.

“I don’t understand,” he says, bewildered, flushed.

“I do like you,” you say, eyes glassy.

His brows pinch. “But… That night–”

“Wasn’t right,” you interrupt. “I wanted to kiss you, but not like that. Not then. Not because you saved me, not because I was in shock, not because of…” you rock your head side to side. “Whatever other bullshit… You let me down that night.”

“Let you down?” Homelander echoes, taken aback. “By saving your life?” He asks, his temper a perpetual simmer ready to flare. He’s immediately tempered by your hands taking his wrists, squeezing. You hold his gaze and your expression is gentle, but there is a firmness in your stare that he finds intoxicating. Not an ounce of fear, even when his anger emerges.

Good. You shouldn’t be afraid of him. He saved you.

“I was shaken. Badly. My date was an entitled asshole, those men, they tried to…” You shake your head, holding his hands to your face. “I didn’t need you to be a man. I needed you to be a hero. I wasn’t ready.”

A light in Homelander’s eyes flicks on. You just weren’t ready. He’d been right after all. He fixates on that, choosing to forgive you for that, at least.

“Well, why didn’t… You could have said something,” he says, feeling like a deflated hot air balloon, all slack expansion and heat with no purpose.

“I would have,” you say, your cheeks soft and round in his hands, lips slightly puckered from his hold on your face. “But you ran away.”

“What? I–” He laughs incredulously. “I did not run away.”

“Flew away,” you say, pushing in to kiss him again. He screws his eyes shut. Fuck, fuck. Oh fuck. He’s been dreaming of this, aching for it. To feel you against him, wanting him as much as he wants you. “Pretty fast, too. Looked like you shot straight up to the moon,” you say, breath hot and sweet on his lips.

“I…” He swallows, hands slipping down to either side of your neck, thumbs tilting your chin up. “I’m sorry. I wanted you,” he says, trailing his parted lips along your jaw, kissing and breathing you in the way he’s craved to. He can feel your skin growing hot against his lips, hear the uptick of your pulse as your heart begins to race.

“Do you still want me?” You ask, voice lower now. It sends a delicious hot pang all the way through him.

“You have no fucking idea,” he murmurs, nipping at the lobe of your ear, desperate to test the give of you under his teeth, the feel of your soft and yielding flesh branded into his memory the moment his lips touched your skin.

A knock snaps his attention away from you, but it isn’t at the door. He looks down and sees that it’s you knocking on your desk. “So take me,” you say, voice laced with heat. His lips split into a wicked grin. He snatches the edge of your heavy wooden desk and effortlessly tips it backwards until everything slides off of it, clattering to the floor. He lifts you up, relishing your delighted little yelp, and places you down on the cleared surface like a doll, stepping in between your legs.

He kisses you again. Let me in, demands the press of his tongue. You yield to him, but it’s far from a surrender. Your tongue meets his eagerly, tasting him as much as he does you. Tasting you. That’s what he wants. He wants to map every inch of you with his tongue.

Homelander slips his hand between your legs, pushing your skirt up out of the way. He presses his fingers to the heat between your thighs, rubbing through the thin fabric of your panties. You sigh that same seraphic sound against his lips, slipping your hands up into his hair, already taking a handful of it to tug gently.

He breaks the kiss and takes his fingers from you after the barest tease of pleasure. The impatient sound you make goes straight to his cock, as does your flustered expression. He brings his fingers to his lips and drags his tongue over the leather of them, sliding them past his lips to give a quick suck. It’s not enough, too slight a hint of you. He needs more. You watch him with rapt attention, giving his hair a demanding little tug.

“You can pull as hard as you like,” he tells you with a smile, tilting his head against the grasp you have on his hair. “Tells me I’m doing a good job.”

“I’ll tell you when you’re doing a good job,” you rasp, giving his hair a sharp pull and then a downward push. That sends a shiver down his spine.

Fuck yes.

Homelander sinks down onto his knees, lifting each of your legs up over his shoulders. You give a little gasp when he yanks your ass to the edge of the desk, giddy with the way he manhandles you. He swallows, mouth dry, thirsty for the wet, heady smell of your pussy. He maneuvers his head under your skirt until he’s close enough to drag his tongue up the soft cotton of your panties. Your breath hitches and your grip in his hair tightens while you egg him on with sharp little rolls of your hips.

He closes his eyes, giving a rumbling moan for the taste of you, even through the fabric. He laps until the fabric is soaked, clinging to your skin, and he can feel your clit swollen and stiff on his tongue through your panties. He closes his mouth over it, sucking you through your underwear while you writhe above him, keeping yourself quiet.

That won’t do.

He wants to hear you.

He wants the whole fucking Tower to hear you.

Hooking the crotch of your panties with his finger, it only takes one sharp little tug to tear them, exposing you to him.

“Homelander,” you moan. The sound of it lances a spear of heat through him, leaves his cock throbbing needily in the rigid confines of his cup. He groans into you, rocking his hips against the empty air. The only proper answer is to dive in, to close his lips around your clit and finally suck the rich nectar of your cunt without the filter of fabric between you. You taste even better than you smell, like salt and sex and sweet ripe fruit. It overwhelms his senses immediately, his eyelids flickering.

The more he laps at you, the silkier your pussy becomes. Between circling your clit, he drives his tongue deep into you, drinking you down noisily and messily, a parched man gulping from an oasis. Your thick thighs are tight on either side of his head, your pulse pounding in his ears. He moans low and wicked for the taste and feel of you.

Your grip on his hair tightens sporadically, sharp little tugs that match the staccato cadence of your breaths. “F-fuck, your tongue feels-feels fucking unreal,” you moan, grinding down against it. The strength of it, the slight thrum of restrained power that courses through him, and the sheer relentlessness of his stamina is driving you wild against his mouth. “Fingers, use your fingers,” you tell him. He loves the rawness of your voice, the authority and desperation in your demand.

Removing one of his gloves, he moves his bare hand to the sweltering wetness of you, teasing his finger just below where his tongue is rubbing your clit. His index finger slips easily into the slick mess, and he savors the quiver of your velvet walls around it. He lets you ride his finger, stays all but still while you greedily bounce your hips, both hands fisted in his hair. You use him for your pleasure, and it makes him delirious with want.

Homelander's gaze flickers up. He peers through the layer of your skirt to catch a look at you, to watch you while you cannot watch him. You’re losing track of yourself, lips parted, eyes glazed with pleasure, shivering with each flick of his tongue and dive of his finger. Euphoria looks good on you.

Christ, he has been patient. He would chastise himself for waiting so long to touch you, to taste you, to feel you, but he can’t bring himself to. The wait gifted him with this exquisite hunger, and he proved something important; you both yearn for the other. You crave him. He can see it in your hazy eyes, taste it in the spill of your sweet cunt.

You belong to him. He needs only to take you.

One finger becomes two, and then three. Your heels dig into his shoulders and fuck yourself down on them, moaning recklessly now, not caring who hears you. It’s music to his ears.

“Fuck, Homelander, I-I’m coming, I’m-don’t stop, don’t stop,” you beg prettily. You don’t need to, but he enjoys the song anyway. He laps at your clit in quick upward pulls of his tongue, lips creating a seal around it. His brows furrow tightly, his own neglected arousal pounding through his body like a wardrum, but he doesn’t touch himself, too focused on you.

Your whole body locks up tight when you come, breath caught in your lungs, your clit fluttering delicately. He presses his tongue to it, savoring the taste of your euphoria, how it floods your system and changes the flavor of you. Your pleasure grows his hunger into something monstrous, something demanding, but there is satiation at least in bringing you this, in showing you all the things he will be for you.

You’ll never want for anyone–or anything– else ever again.

Homelander doesn’t stop. You begged him not to. He finger-fucks you through the aftershocks, lapping up every drop of your pleasure, stroking you inside and out while your cunt squeezes his fingers. He doesn’t stop until he feels you pushing him away, your sweet songbird moans sounding more like whimpers, oversensitized. He withdraws his fingers, giving one last noisy slurp before emerging from beneath your skirt. His face is shiny and wet with your slick, his pupils blown black. He's panting, looking every bit like a beast lifting its bloodied head from the belly of its kill.

Crawling up your body, still predator hungry, he rests his knee on the desk between your legs. He cups either side of your face, fingertips digging possessively into the back of your neck. He meets your eyes, pinning you with the intensity of his gaze, wordlessly drilling into your mind that this moment, this feeling, this tingling warmth in your body is him.

I did this to you, his expression reads. You’re on my lips, he says by pressing them to yours, kissing your own taste into your mouth, his body throbbing, desperate for an ounce of that same relief. You’re mine.

To his amazement, your eyes mirror his own savage hunger. You kiss him hard, shamelessly licking into his mouth, huffing shallow breaths from your nose. “Lie down,” you tell him, voice as sweet and coarse as raw sugar. “I’m going to ride you.”

Homelander doesn’t need to be told twice. Exhilarated, he rolls over, flipping you with him and steadying you above him in a fluid motion. The desk isn’t as long as he is tall, but it doesn’t matter. He’s already half suspended in the air with his own excitement, helping you with overly eager hands that fumble alongside yours with his belt, which falls to the ground with a distinct thud. He gives a little jump at the voracity you rip his zipper down with, grinning.

Together, you shuck his pants down to his thighs. You grip him through his red briefs, a fractured moan falling from his lips.

“Cute underwear,” you coo. His cheeks flush to almost the same shade. You flatten your palm over his cock and he bites back a whimper, teeth sinking into his tongue. You give a light squeeze, fingers curling around his cock through the fabric, and he lets out a rough breath. “You feel close,” you tell him, stroking him in a loose fist, your hand warm, the fabric soft.

He nods fervently, the friction and your voice already teetering him towards the edge. He makes a sound of both anguish and relief when you release him, his eyes snapping up to meet yours. You tug his underwear down, his cock bouncing free, engorged and dripping precome.

“Don’t move,” you tell him, bracing one hand on his chest and sliding forward, your other hand moving between your bodies to steady his cock against the rapturously hot press of your soaked cunt. His hands fly to your hips, fingertips biting into the softness of your body. You allow him that, focused entirely on the act of taking him into you. The fat head of his cock it slips inside, evoking a sweet little gasp from you, and Homelander fights not to slam in the rest of the way.

Both of your hands fall to his chest, your eyes meeting his. He holds your gaze, mouth twitching around silent sharp breaths. He watches you sink slowly down the length of him, engulfing him in such sublime rapture it’s a wonder he doesn’t come right then and there for the feel of you alone. His grip on your hips flexes and he gives a sharp little thrust up, forgetting himself to the divine feel of your pussy.

“I said don’t move,” you remind him breathlessly. God, you’re beautiful like this. The fluorescent light behind your head haloes you, giving you the look of a debauched angel he plucked from the heavens to have and keep as his own. He expects you to move, to bounce yourself on his cock like you did his mouth and his fingers. He wants to watch your tits bounce, see your face clearly when you come on his cock, but the only part of you that moves is your hand.

His gaze drops and quickly darkens, watching intently as you stroke your clit. The initial contact alone makes you jerk, makes your pussy spasm and squeeze him so good he almost chokes on it. Your only response is to sigh, tipping your head back and spreading your legs a little wider, taking him deeper. He wants so badly to fuck you, to slam you down and rail you until your desk cracks in half.

“Mmmm, fuck,” you moan, rubbing yourself in circles, the lewd noise of it loud and irresistible to his ears. “Fuck, fuck–ah, god,” you start to pant, head falling forward, brows tightly pinched. You’re so sensitive after the assault of his mouth, the flavor of you still fresh on his tongue. The faster your fingers move, the closer he feels you get, the clench around his cock steadily tightening. He wants to thrash, but you keep him pinned in place with your look of expectation and pleasure. You’re getting off on him as much as you are your own fingers, on the swell and throb of his cock inside you, on the sheer power you hold over a god.

You’re loud when you come, nails clawing into the chest of his suit. Homelander’s eyes roll back, lips parted on a soundless cry of his own. The spasming heat of your release is too much and he loses himself to it, eyes flaring up with crimson light as he comes with you, every shudder of your climax stroking and milking him of his own, flooding you with his own wet mess.

His restraint breaks with the dam and he sits up abruptly, startling a noise from you, which he swallows with a hard kiss, cupping the back of your head. He holds you still and he fucks you, lifting from the desk entirely so that he alone supports your weight, driving you deeper onto his cock. Your legs tighten on either side of him, shaking.

Out of his mind with pleasure, he tears your blouse open with his teeth, diving in close to lick, suck and bite at your chest. He buries his face between your breasts, holding you tightly as he fucks you both through your respective orgasms, the slap of flesh against flesh echoing obscenely in your office.

Hitching your legs properly around his waist, he bounces you on his cock until the pleasure borders on pain and a secondary shock rolls through him like another orgasm, stealing his breath. Only then does he finally slow, mouthing languidly at your chest until he sucks your nipple into his mouth. He moans against you, grinding to an eventual halt. You comb your fingers through his hair and goosebumps erupt across his body, which shivers in the euphoric aftermath.

He loses track of how long he stays suspended like that, lost to the overwhelm of sensation. Your legs go slack while his angles slightly upward, his face pressed to your chest, your head resting atop his. He nuzzles at you, bleary eyed and slack with pleasure. He kisses a trail up to your clavicle, your throat, your jaw, smiling in the loose, easy way that only a good fuck can never make him.

“Wow,” he says after a while, voice thoroughly frayed.

You giggle, groggily lifting your head. He adjusts until you can relax against his chest, fold your forearms across it and settling your chin atop them, admiring him. He touches your face with his ungloved hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb, then the curve of your bottom lip. His smile widens when you kiss the pad of his thumb.

“Wow indeed,” you say, swinging your legs lightly. “Can’t say I’ve ever been fucked mid-air.”

“One of the many benefits of dating me,” he purrs, caressing your cheek with his knuckles. He kisses you again, drifting slowly back down, unhurried.

Your brows lift lazily. “Who says we’re dating?” You ask, but your smile keeps his hackles from rising.

“Me,” he says, eyes crinkled at the corners. He lands gently on the desk, helping you to it. “You and I are officially going steady.”

You give a thoughtful hum, carefully untangling your limbs from his. You slide off of the desk while he puts himself back together, your knees trembling faintly. “Fairly sure asking someone out requires a question mark. You know. The asking part. You didn’t even buy me dinner.” You attempt to button up your shirt, but it’s obviously a lost cause.

He exhales a quiet laugh, pulling you back into his arms. “Well, I certainly ate.”

“God,” you laugh, rolling your eyes, but they don’t stray from him for long. There’s a sparkle to your gaze that he wants to capture in his palm and never set loose.

“Will you go out with me?” He asks, lips brushing yours.

“Mmmmmmmm….” You hum once more, drawing it out, feigning a great deliberation. “There’s something you should know first.”

He quirks a brow. “What’s that?”

“My guilty pleasure,” you say, nose bumping his.

Intrigued, he inclines his head to prompt you to continue. Can’t be worse than mine.

“Superheroes,” you say conspiratorially. “Can’t get enough of them. Loved them my whole life. Especially this one in particular…”

He breaks into a frayed, charmed laugh. “Let me guess, name starts with an H?”

You suck in a breath through your teeth, lips curved downward in a mock grimace, and nod subtly. “ Total fangirl. Embarrassing, right?”

Homelander shakes his head. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never felt guilty about pleasure. Where’s the harm in it?”

The harm inflicted on those thugs couldn’t count. They had it coming.

“Harm to my pride, my ego, my reputation,” you list, tapping his suit to punctuate each one. “I made a pretty big fuss about not liking you. I had myself convinced that my Homelander only existed in my fantasies, and you were just the guy who plays him.”

My Homelander. The words stir an unexpectedly sentimental surge of emotion that wells up from somewhere deep in his chest. He clears his throat lightly. “What’s the verdict now?”

You sweep him with an appraising gaze. “Still deliberating.”

He clicks his tongue, nodding. “I don’t suppose I could arrange a meeting with the jury?”

“They’re available for dinner tomorrow,” you say, the tilt of your lips sly.

“It’s a date,” he murmurs, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. You kiss him, pressing your smile to his. He doubts he’ll ever tire of the softness of your lips, or the easy way you melt against him. He wraps his arms around you, content to let this moment pass only because he knows there will be more to come. He’s determined to make every one of them better than the last.

All of the pleasure, none of the guilt.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #my writing #x reader #yandere x reader

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wandaspup · 10 hours

Text

Sinners

Summary: In a small town, you try living up to your mother’s expectations while encountering Wanda Maximoff, a mysterious woman and a childhood friend of your mothers. It leaves you questioning her intentions and your beliefs.

Parings: Wanda x Fem R

Stay updated with this series!

Warnings: Manipulation, degrading, praise, strap on, mommy kink, dubcon, your fictional mother isn’t nice, stalking

Author notes: Things to consider before reading: You are 19 years old while Wanda is 36. There is no smut in this for now! I'm not familiar with the bible so please do not take this seriously. It's only fiction.

The handles are warm as you push the double doors open of the church, their hinges creaking softly in response to the intrusion. As the door swung apart, it revealed the dimly lit interior bathed in sunlight whistling through the skylight. Thousands of dust particles scattered around the beams, casting a glow. On either side of the church, the stained-glass windows painted with vivid patterns, painted their shadows on the polished floor.

As you lingered behind your parents, hands clasped together at your front. The four walls of the church momentarily silenced the bustling streets before more people entered, quiet murmurs spreading across the churchgoers. People passed by to take their seats, some offered greetings to your parents, while others remarked on how you have grown into a fine young lady. Your family was well known for the small church gatherings they hosted, always extending their hospitality to the community. However, you could not shake the feeling your parents’ ego was involved, driven by their desires to keep their status. Your mother seemed intent on being the best, regardless of the situation, while your father followed her lead.

Lost in your head, you hadn’t noticed the priest approaching your parents until he stood before them, a gentle smile on his lips. “Good morning, everyone,” he greeted, his voice warm and inviting. “I trust you all found yourselves well?”

“Certainly, Father Steve. It’s always a pleasure,” your mother affirmed with a nod, her hand briefly resting on the priest’s arm. Beside her, your father offered a gentle squeeze of

Father Steve’s hand.

His eyes landed on you, a wide grin reaching his face as he moved between your parents. Your feet shuffled beneath you, a slight bow to your head as he addressed you directly.

“My child, you are growing quite fast,” he remarked warmly. “I’m sure your mother and father must be so proud of you.”

You nodded, a faint uncertainty lingering in your response. “I hope so,” you murmured softly. Your gaze flicked over to them, your mother’s stern facade causing a tightness in your stomach. Before the tension could linger further, the priest politely excused himself to begin the ceremony. You followed your parents towards the front row, Father Steve took his place at the altar.

Your mother, focused on the moment, spared no mind at you, her hushed reminder to keep your posture straight and your head forward as you took your seat beside her.

The urge to roll your eyes was strong, but you fought against it, instead clenching your fists tightly against your thighs and felt your jaw tense and your teeth grind together in frustration. A flicker of movement draws your attention. A woman sitting on the right far end at the fourth row lingering on the edge of your sight, compelling you to get a glance.

Father Steve gently echoes through the church, drawing your focus back to the front with swift precision. “As we gather here today, let us remember the grace and mercy of our Lord, who is our eternal Savior. With his love God watches over us, guiding and protecting us. We strive to lead by good deeds by following his teachings and commandments, we can trust him for his protection.”

“But let’s not forget we are human, mistakes are bound to happen. God will not judge for our mistakes and in his eyes there is always the opportunity for redemption. Through prayers we can seek forgiveness for our sins."

The final sigh of amen hangs in the air, marking the end of the prayer. You can sense your mother stares before she gets up along with the rest from the row. Your thoughts briefly drift to the encounter with the mysterious woman before refocusing. You got up and followed behind your parents, still you couldn’t keep your eyes forward as you searched for the woman.

Approaching the altar, the chalice tipped gently down as you savored the taste of bitterness on your tongue. You move for the next person, your head down fixed at the worn out tiles.

A sudden collision made you come back to reality. “I am so sorry.”

“No harm done, honey,” she chuckled softly, so husky yet smooth. “I’m Wanda.” She happily says and extends her hands for a greeting.

You gave your name and took her offer, your hands met in a firm grasp. Wanda was undeniable beauty, her cheekbones formed natural crowns on her face. The strange sensation from earlier startled within, however you pushed them aside and ignored it.

“Well I should be getting back to my parents.”

“Of course don’t let me keep you.”

Everything about her kept you wondering who she was. Her face was so recognizable, you pushed yourself to remember where you had last seen her.

With everyone getting their share, you navigated past the rows where your parents were engrossed in conversation near the doors. Your mother’s words echoed at the tip of your ears, reminding you how impolite It is to interrupt. So you lingered on the side, fidgeting with your hands as your gaze remained fixed on Wanda. You didn’t know how long you stood there before your mother called out your name, finally getting your attention on the third call.

“You’ve been out of it all day, pull yourself together now.”

“Yes, mother, I’m sorry,” you gritted out, feeling anger settle in you.

You squinted as you emerged out of the doors, stuffing your hands in your pockets as you jogged down the three steps. Families and friends crowded outside while you watched, your parents, well your mother couldn’t help but throw her sentimental joy at people's faces. With a sigh, you kicked a small pebble across the ground.

Just then, they’ve come to join you where you stood, thankful to be leaving. But as you all started towards the car, the small shriek of your mother’s voice halted both you and your father. You looked up seeing Wanda heading towards you, her presence alone twisting your insides.

Surprised, your mother’s eyes widened as fixed on the red head. “Wanda?" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Shaking off the feeling, you reassured yourself that you were just being paranoid about Wanda. There’s no way you could forget a face like hers. It’d be ridiculous not to remember meeting a woman with such elegance. Wanda appeared as a flawless Barbie doll, ravishing with politeness and beauty. Her demeanor seemed almost too perfect to be real.

Wanda chuckled, her arm draping over your mother’s shoulder with a sharp but soft expression. “Surprised to see me?” She teased.

“You never told me when you were coming.”

With a casual shrug, she stepped back, her gaze briefly landing on you and your father before focusing elsewhere. You tapped your feet, swaying one of them back and forth by your heels. Something about her still didn't settle right with you. It seemed she knew your mother well, what a consequence. You observed your father and can tell he knew her as well.

“Well, you know me. I always enjoy making an entrance. Arrived yesterday morning and managed to snag a room at that quaint little motel. Your town is absolutely lovely.”

Your father greeted Wanda with a firm handshake before turning to you. "This is our daughter," he said, his hand gently patting your shoulder, urging you forward as though you were still a small child.

Wanda waved her hand, dismissing the encounter. “Oh, we already met in the church.” She gave you a little pat on your arm, leaving her hand there for a little second longer.

She winked and you felt goosebumps scatter through your body as you stood confused why this woman who you never met before besides a brief encounter was making you feel this way.

“How about you coming over for dinner tomorrow? We’d love to have you.”

Wanda nodded and clasped her hands together, a smile broke out on her lips. “I’ll be there.”

End notes: I was supposed to tag someone but I forgot their user! so if you see this I'm sorry ):

update found em yay: @natashaswife4125

#wanda x y/n #mommy wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda x fem!reader #dark wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda x you #wanda maximilf #wanda x reader

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squintyeyedjoel · 2 days

Text

Look For The Light | (Joel x Reader) - Coming Soon!

Synopsis: When Joel and Ellie are on their way to find the Fireflies, they stumble across something else in an abandoned farmhouse. Something unexpected and life changing - you. ….and the three year old toddler you rescued three days ago that happens to harbor something familiar Joel has a hard time reconciling with.

(Sneak peek below the cut!)

Suddenly the handle on the door to your room jiggled, making the breath stutter in your chest.

The low voice on the other side of the wooden barrier made you jump. “I’ll give you to the count of three, otherwise I’m breakin’ this thing down.”

You gulped.

“One.”

Silence.

“Two.”

A beat more.

“Three.”

Suddenly the door swung open, the latch busting into pieces and skittering across the floor as the hulking frame of a man barreled through shoulder first. Just behind him you saw a teenaged girl peeking in curiously from the top of the steps.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, offering a timid smile. “I’d have met you at the door, but,” you looked down toward the bundle in your arms, the smile turning more genuine. “My hands are full.”

“Holy fucking shit,” the teenager mumbled, before trying to make her way around the grumpy looking man. He caught her by her backpack, not allowing her any closer, to which she turned a skeptical look his way. “Really, Joel? It’s a baby. What’s it gonna do, drool me to death?”

You snorted a laugh, arching an eyebrow at the man- Joel’s unimpressed look your way.

“It’s a toddler. They’d scream your ear off b’fore they’d drool-” He stopped when he glanced from the tiny human in your arms who looked up at him with wide, curious eyes, and focused back on the teen, finding her already looking at him with raised brows.

After a moment he released her with a sigh, and she took a few tentative steps your way, wide grin climbing up her face.

“How would you know, anyway?” She teased the man without sparing him a glance.

The look he shot at the back of the girl's head made you want to grin, but you successfully tucked it into the top of the little human’s head in your lap.

“I’m older ‘an you. Been ‘round the block a few times, is all. Know a thing or two.” His voice was a rumbling grouse, the dry tone exasperated and saying he’d been here a time or two before, this argument worn and thin.

“Yeah, because you’re ancient,” she mocked.

“Ain’t that old,” he grumbled.

“Dirt is younger, Joel.”

“Not worried I’m infected?” You kept your voice calm, not wanting to poke the angry bear known as Joel.

The girl smiled in a way that said she had more to say than what she was telling as she knelt next to you. “No. Not really.”

“Ellie,” Joel groaned, taking a step closer as the teen sat next to you, her shoulder lightly bumping against your own as her back pressed against the wall.

“I’m not, by the way,” you looked between them both. “Infected.” Looking down to the toddler in your arms, snorting as she tried to hide further into your threadbare shirt, you couldn’t help but smile softly. “Neither is she.”

“What’s her name?” Ellie reached out a finger for the little one to hold. It was taken tentatively, and given a firm shake like she had seen countless adults do around her in the QZ you’d been in before.

It made Joel snort out a laugh through his nose.

“Sarah.”

The laugh turned into a choking sound, quickly melting into a coughing fit as Joel bent over at his waist, bracing his hands on his knees as he fought for air.

“You okay, old man?”

You tried to stifle the smile Ellie’s comment brought to your face before you turned your gaze back up to Joel once again.

After a long moment, he stood up straight with a huff. “Fine.” Another long pause. “Just swallowed wrong.”

Wanna be tagged if/when I write any future Joel stuff? Here’s how to sign up!

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birinboom · 1 day

Text

The Luck-Bringing Cat

Jing Yuan x Fem!Reader; a shy former imperial concubine

The Apothecary Diaries-esque AU (I am kinda-sorta stealing this plotline from ep. 3), arranged marriage, budding romance, domestic fluff, pet names (JY calls Reader my dear, my love), Reader is also referred to as ‘my lady’ 🌿 3.162 words

Jing Yuan, a famed general and childhood friend of the emperor, has yet to take a wife. The emperor decides to solve this by giving one of his least favorite concubines to his best friend. Even though Jing Yuan is against this practice, he can't help but fall head over heels in love once he meets you.

Thank you so much to @a11eya for beta-reading this for me!

Only one man had managed to stay at the emperor’s side through most of his life. Jing Yuan, the son of imperial scholars, made friends with the crown prince early in their lives, and they quickly became inseparable. As they aged, Jing Yuan became an asset to the newly crowned emperor; a seasoned warrior, an accomplished general, a brilliant strategist, and one of the few people who dared oppose the monarch when needed.

The emperor loved him like a brother. And it worried him that Jing Yuan never seemed interested in taking a wife. The general was far from blind to the longing gazes of the women of the court, he accepted their offers on occasion but he never seemed to want more than one or two nights with any woman. The emperor did not see anything wrong with this as he himself split his time more or less equally between his favorite concubines. But any man who was less fortunate than the emperor should surely want something more stable, especially a man who was slowly getting through his best age.

When Jing Yuan was pressed about why he did not want to marry, he stated with a lazy smile that he had neither the time nor the energy for that kind of courtship. But the emperor saw the slight downturn of the corners of the general’s lips. He saw through the facade of his best and oldest friend.

I have neither the time nor the energy for that kind of courtship. But I desperately wish I did.

The emperor thought deeply about this issue. Then he remembered someone in the inner court. A concubine who had fallen from his favor at their first meeting. He had never spent time with you after that. Why, he had barely thought about you in years. Still, you were a beautiful woman, well-educated, and, from what he had been told, quite quick-witted. You would make a good gift for his best friend.

Now he just needed to convince Jing Yuan that he would not take no for an answer.

Jing Yuan was still unable to fully understand how everything had come to this. He could not fathom why the emperor suddenly wanted to give him one of the imperial concubines as a wife. Giving an unfavored concubine to a newly appointed officer as a reward was far from an uncommon practice, Jing Yuan was well aware of that. But he had never expected it to happen to him, not after so many years in service of the emperor. He had been lucky to manage arranging a meeting with you before the wedding.

This practice seemed so wholly unfair in his mind. Unfair to you and any other concubines affected by the custom. You had already been given as a gift to one man, now you were being given to another, neither of whom you had chosen for yourself. Jing Yuan knew there was little he could do about the situation, but he did not feel right accepting another human being as a gift.

He continued towards the palace gardens which had been chosen as the meeting place, still in deep speculation about whether he had any chance of changing the emperor’s mind.

Turning a corner, he was torn out of his thoughts when he came upon a small gathering of women, all of them wearing identical robes. One held a folded-up parasol. They were all calling out to someone in voices too hushed for Jing Yuan to discern any words.

Ladies-in-waiting, he thought, paying them little mind. Then, his eyes fell on you.

The emperor had shown him a painting of you, commissioned shortly before you had begun your journey to the palace. Even if some years had passed since then, Jing Yuan still instantly recognized you.

You stood at the top of a small bridge crossing one of the many creeks in the garden, your face tilted up towards a nearby tree. The setting autumn sun fell upon you at an angle that made your skin and hair glow. Tearing his gaze away from you, Jing Yuan looked towards the tree as well, his trained ears picking up the song of finches. For a moment he wondered if it might be the same flock that visited the small garden of his own residence. Turning his eyes back to you, he watched as you lifted a hand, holding it up towards the tree. A finch took off from a branch and landed on one of your outstretched fingers.

Until now your face had been mostly devoid of emotion, eyes fixed on the tree. But when the finch landed on your hand, looking calmly at you with one black eye, your features softened, a fond smile gracing your face like the sun appearing from behind rain clouds.

Jing Yuan watched you lift the bird closer to your face, whispering to it, your other hand coming up to gently scratch the top of its head. He unconsciously raised a hand to his lips in an attempt to hide the smile blooming there. If this was how you behaved with one of his beloved finches (and he was certain at this point that the bird was indeed from the flock he possessively thought of as his), if you acted so kind and loving towards the smallest of creatures with no prompting, then marrying you could quite possibly be one of the best things to ever happen to him. The thought of having you gifted to him still felt wrong, but… perhaps he did not need to dread it as much as he had at first.

Stepping forward, he cleared his throat, trying his best to school his features into a pleasant, if slightly detached, expression.

You gasped, raising your arm to hide your face behind your long sleeve. The finch took off, frightened by your sudden movement, and the rest of the flock followed it. The flapping of their wings filled the air, drowning out your greeting as you and your ladies-in-waiting bowed to him.

Jing Yuan felt another smile tug at his lips. He managed to hide it behind his hair as he returned your bow.

Your ladies-in-waiting quickly moved to one side of the walkway, letting him pass. He looked at you as he ascended the bridge. The way you peeked shyly at him over your still-raised sleeve made his heart clench. He sent you what he hoped was a pleasant smile, and nodded towards the path on the opposite side.

“Shall we, my lady?”

The two of you strolled along the garden path for a while, Jing Yuan filling the air with what idle conversation he could think of, and you giving brief, shy answers.

Then, he heard the flap of wings and felt the touch of tiny claws digging into his hair, brushing against his scalp. Soon, he felt a small tug as the finch began to preen him. He could barely help but chuckle when another finch landed on his shoulder. He felt your gaze on him, then your eyes moved to the bird on his far shoulder.

“Oh!” you exhaled.

Raising his opposite hand, he gently encouraged the bird to hop onto one of his fingers, then moved the hand -with bird- closer to you.

“I have worked quite hard on taming them over the years,” he said. “The most recent brood is the tamest yet; they are the only ones so far to actively seek my presence. Though I suspect they only come to me in hopes of food. Would you like to hold it again?”

You looked away, your sleeve rising once more to hide your face. “Again…” you said, sounding very put on the spot.

Jing Yuan tried to quell his laughter. “I must admit that I was watching you for a moment before making my presence known. What I saw was very… endearing.”

You were silent for a while, then you peeked at him over the top of your sleeve. “May I be frank with you, General?”

He nodded. “Please.”

Staying quiet for a few seconds, you then drew in a deep breath. “I was rather nervous about this meeting. I have heard quite a few rumors about you, about your excellence at anything you do. And I was worried that I might not be able to live up to the expectations of the august general. But… You handle these birds with such tenderness and care. They trust you. Maybe they can trust me too, in time.”

Looking off to the side, you finally lowered your sleeve, clasping your hands in front of you. “I am very fond of small animals. My family owned a couple of tame nightingales when I was a child; I used to love falling asleep while listening to their singing.”

He felt another smile tug at his lips. He too had pleasant memories of falling asleep to the sound of bird song as a child. Though in his case it had been the wild birds outside his windows lulling him to sleep. Sharing such a similar memory with you only made him feel delighted.

Briefly peeking at him, as if to judge his reaction to your words, you then continued, “I have always yearned for a cat too, but my parents would not allow it because of our birds. And I never mustered up the courage to request permission to keep a cat after I arrived at the inner court. Though I doubt the emperor would have indulged me.” You sighed ruefully. “I suppose even now, since birds are favored once again, a pet cat will be impossible. The birds will be enough.”

Jing Yuan looked at you for a moment, stroking his chin. “A cat is a pleasant idea. As the saying goes, ‘a cat well cared for may bring luck to its owner.’ Though if I had my way I should like a lion instead!” When he saw your eyes widen, your mouth starting to open in surprise, he could not stop himself from laughing once more. “I jest, I merely jest! A housecat will suffice! Perhaps we can teach it to leave the birds in peace, or keep it indoors at all times.”

The thought of keeping a cat locked inside, though he doubted it was truly achievable, brought his thoughts back to the way you had been hidden away in the inner court for years. His smile faltered. Would it be right for him to mention his hesitation? Would it assuage you to know that he was far from satisfied with how the situation was handled?

“If I may be so bold, my lady… You were not the only one who had a certain level of apprehension about this meeting.”

You shrank back a little, shoulders slumping. “I… see.”

Jing Yuan saw you raise your hand again, he could only assume to hide your face once more. Without fully realizing what he was doing, he reached out to take your hand in his.

“Please, do not misunderstand me, my dear! It is not because of you, it is the entire situation. I do not much like being given another person as a gift. And I find it wholly unfair to you to be given away once again.”

He had so much more to say on this subject, so many points to make about how the former concubines nearly always came out as the losers in these circumstances. And yet he felt his mind go blank. He brushed his thumb over the back of your hand in an attempt to gather his thoughts. It had the opposite effect. Your hand was softer and more delicate than he could have ever imagined; so different from his own strong, calloused hands. It took every last shred of self control to not raise it to his lips.

Releasing your hand with great reluctance, he forced himself to finish his thoughts. “I am loath to receive a wife under such circumstances, even if she is one I should have quite liked to court of my own volition, had I been allowed to. But in the end it is His Majesty’s decision. Even so, I can promise you this, my dear: No matter what may come, I will always do my utmost to ensure that we are both happy with this union.”

You grasped the hand he had held with your free hand, rubbing the skin, your head bowed enough that he could not see your expression.

“I-I…”

Then you raised your head again, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I must admit, I am quite relieved that you feel that way. That you understand the situation from my point of view too.”

Jing Yuan returned your smile. “As much as I am against this entire circumstance, I must admit… the more I get to know you, my dear, the more I am looking forward to you becoming my wife.”

The two of you talked for a while longer, then Jing Yuan escorted you and your ladies-in-waiting back to the inner court. Seeing the gate leading to the inner court left him with a sense of melancholy he could not quite place. Perhaps he had already grown so accustomed to your presence that the thought of being without you left him empty. It made him look forward to your wedding day even more.

One early morning, some six months later, Jing Yuan was found crouched over a rosebush in the small garden of his residence, pruning shears in hand. It was something he refused to give up, no matter how many people told him it was below his rank to tend to his own garden. Gardening was one of the few things that truly cleared his mind, one of the few still moments of the day that allowed him to relax. And today, he needed it.

He had already spent several hours lying awake, tossing and turning, his mind whirring, until finally giving up on sleep once he heard the first birds singing outside. Rolling over, he pressed a kiss against your bare shoulder, then left the bed to start his day.

The air outside was cold enough that his breath created little puffs of mist, the remnants of frost biting his cheeks. He paid it little mind; it helped clear his head. And so, he crouched over the few bushes that needed pruning this early in spring, settling into a calming rhythm as the world around him slowly grew from a milky gray to pink and orange.

His rhythm was disturbed as something brushed up against his knee. Looking down, he spotted the white kitten he had presented to you on your wedding day, just a few days before the new year began. You had been infatuated with the cat (as had he, as were both of you even now), and you had aptly named it Snowmoon in honor of the full moon hanging in the sky, casting lambent light over the snow-covered ground of the garden outside your windows.

The memory of that night still made him smile.

Snowmoon raised itself on its hind legs, the little bell on its collar jingling. It propped its front paws against his knee, and chirped imploringly. Jing Yuan could only assume that he had been so engrossed in his gardening that the sound of the bell had gone unnoticed.

How did you get out? he wondered as he picked up the kitten, holding it up in front of him.

The kitten returned his gaze evenly with its brilliantly blue eyes and began to purr. Cradling it to his chest, he stood, intending to put the cat back inside. It had yet to learn that the birds of the garden were off-limits. And the birds had yet to learn what the sound of the bell signified.

But as he stood, he caught sight of another figure in the morning light. You were bundled up in several layers of clothing, seemingly ready to spend a while outside.

Jing Yuan frowned. “What are you doing out of bed, my love?” he asked. “It is still so early.”

You looked away, trying to hide the shy smile forming on your lips. You were still not used to the terms of endearment which he favored.

“I wanted to lend you a hand,” you said.

He appreciated the sentiment. But he found it difficult to imagine you crouching in the dirt like he had been.

“There is no need, my dear, I am almost finished.”

Your mouth set in a stubborn line. “Then I will help with the last of it.”

The firmness in your voice made his heart flutter. He enjoyed all the work you put into getting to know him better. And he made sure to return it tenfold.

“Very well, my love. Let me just put this little rascal back inside.”

As he came outside once again, he found you crouched over the rosebush he had been working on, your long sleeves almost trailing in the dirt.

That will not do.

Jing Yuan pulled out the long ribbon holding his hair as he moved closer. Crouching behind you, he deftly wound it first underneath one sleeve, across your back, then underneath the other sleeve, tying it at your shoulder. His actions left your arms bare, sleeves far out of harm’s way.

You shivered in the cold air, goosebumps forming on your newly exposed skin.

Jing Yuan rubbed your arms, trying to get some warmth into your body. “You are still free to go inside.”

You huffed. “I will not.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Handing you the pruning shears, he showed you where to prune, guiding your hands. The two of you chatted idly about the roses for a while, when he expected them to bloom and what colors he had planted. Then the topic moved to the future as a whole.

“Tell me, my love,” Jing Yuan said, wrapping his arms around you, “I know you have only been with me for a few short months, but how do you like it so far?”

You leaned back against him, nestling further into his embrace.

“I enjoy it so very much. I appreciate the freedom I have, compared to the inner court. And…” You turned enough to meet his gaze, raising a hand to caress his cheek. “I have grown quite fond of the master of this house.”

He felt a smile tugging at his lips. “Oh? Do I need to be jealous of this man?”

“Perhaps,” you said, a smile lingering on your own mouth. “He has been very kind to me.”

“I suppose I shall have to be even kinder, then,” he said, before leaning in to press a kiss to your lips.

Maybe there really was something to the saying of ‘a cat well cared for may bring luck to its owner.’ Jing Yuan was certainly feeling very fortunate at that moment.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! If you like, you can check out my other works here. Love, Birin 💖

#hsr #honkai: star rail #jing yuan #fem!reader #arranged marriage #domestic fluff #budding romance #pet names #x reader #x you #drabble #drabbles

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valsdelulucorner · 3 days

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Leviathan head cannons<3

Leviathan is a shut in, its just a known fact but when he is alone, he likes to remain in his demon form. He finds it more comfortable and he likes to have his tail out to act as a extra hand. When someone knocks on the door, he goes back to his normal form because he is insecure that someone might make fun of him for being in his demon form, scared of judgement from his other brothers due to them remaining in their usual forms most of the time

When he is hanging out with you in either yours or his room, he slips back into his demon form, showing you that he is comfortable around you and trusts you to not make fun of him. This also happens when he is exited to show you something or rambles on about a new anime to you, him accidently slipping into his demon form without him noticing as he continues to ramble on to you. If you point this out, he will turn beat red and hide his face, his tail wrapping around his legs in embarrassment

If you guys do start dating and get to the point where you two cuddle, he will 100% be flustered the entire time your holding him in your arms, his face buried in your chest. He will quietly ramble on about something or another while his tail wraps around your legs, his arm holding onto your side while your fingers massage his scalp. After getting used to cuddling you more, he will open up abit more and get more used to being close to you, speaking up more while nuzzling his face into your neck

If you come down to devildom as a artist / tattoo artist, he will absolutely pull a anime nose bleed and faint. He constantly asks you to draw his favourite characters, willing to pay you for your works while commissioning the most out of pocket drawings from self inserts to fandom cross overs. He will absolutely take you on those art dates where you go to a art cafe and you both can make art while you eat anime style foods. If he sees that your getting abit overwhelmed with his requests, he will back off abit and apologize to you with a anime date and some food

At first meeting him, he is cold and distant to you, distrusting of the new human from the world above. He doesn't try to get close to you out of social anxiety and fear of you making fun of his interests, that's why he's so pissed off at his family for calling him a otaku Infront of you. Once he makes the pact with you and actually gets to know you, he starts to realize your one of the only people beside his online friends that wont make fun of his interests and his hobbies so he tries to cling to that

In Levi's concept, they said that he would of been yandere so i took that idea and ran with it. He might not kidnap you or hurt you like that in any way, but he will definitely cling to you and try to manipulate you into staying with him. You both have school today? He pretends he's asleep while holding you in his tail, laying on top of you in a clingy cuddle position to make sure you stay with him today. One of his brothers is talking to you? He will randomly push him out of the way and start nerding out on you, smirking slightly when his brother gets annoyed and leaves, letting him have you all to himself

Leviathan has a reptile like tail so it might be abit gross but he does shed every now and then. He normally gets agitated and violent whenever this does happen, refusing to leave his bedroom and getting violent whenever someone tries to come in and coax him out. The brothers warned you the first time this happened to not go into his room but you didn't listen, walking in to see him full on snake hissing at you. Once he realized it was you, he completely melted and just held onto you, whining about how his tail is irritating and hurting him. Get comfy because this man will NOT be letting you go during this period, cuddling into you protectively while his tail restlessly moved and rubbed against stuff. If you offer to help him, he will absolutely take this as "you will help him every time he sheds" and just steal you away every single time when he feels something happen.

Feeding more into the reptile side of him, he despises the cold whenever he is in his demon form. Before you came down to devildom, he used to cuddle into his brothers for warmth or he used to steal as many blankets he could get his hands on and rest in his little fort. When you both started dating, he found out how warm humans were and how much he liked cuddling. He loves cuddling up with you under a blanket while resting in the general area, watching a cheesy rom com anime while the fire roars in the background

He misses his player two whenever you go back up to the human world but gets overjoyed whenever you return, knowing that you brought human world snacks, candy, movies, gacha games, and new animes. Be prepared to not see the sun for a few weeks because your living off of the snacks you brought down. He adores you for doing this for him, even shedding afew tears after seeing how much you actually care about him

He may be antisocial and non confrontational but he will defiantly go out into social settings for you, weather it be a convention, a restaurant, a cafe, a mall, a concert, anything. He loves being with his player two

"Stay with me, Mayonaka no doa o tataki" "you.. you will even sing for me?!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I love our otaku boy, i leaned alot into him being clingy with you but overall, i enjoyed writing about him!

Who should i write about next?

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10yo-anon · 10 hours

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Untitled.*

♡⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹♡

A/N: a piece i never finished. This has been sitting for 2 months. My actual first piece of writing, too!

♡⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹♡

Your peaceful life in your home village was perfect— growing up at a local bakery by dusk, tavern by dawn where starting as a toddler you learnt how to make, cook, and bake delicacies, from smoked steak to cultural foods day by day, eventually taking the small bakery-tavern in your name once the clock hit and your beloved loved ones had perished.

Keyword: was.

It all crashed so fast, so soon... you wondered what could've happened if the feared myth— the king of curses, as they call, Hadn't ambushed your village, Hadn't gone on a killing spree, breaking down everything and everyone he could see in his view, Hadn't followed the narrow grass pathway leading to your bakery (curse you sweet aroma of bread), hadn't walk in and look at you in the eyes before your vision went out, without knowing what he even did.

Snapping out from your train of thought, you stay laying at the futon you were set to rest at. Your hand goes up to comb through your hair in an attempt to calm your thoughts and heart rate down. Your life's getting soooo fucked up. You don't feel like you. You don't feel like yourself wearing the plain kimono the unknown servants dressed you up in, you don't feel like yourself staying at an unfamiliar room, you don't feel like yourself when you aren't in your homey small house where you wear your simple flower pattern kimono topped with an apron.

Had you done anything so wrong whoever god or goddess watching from above or below give you this fate? Whether the answer was yes or no, you'd plead and bow and cry for them to change your fate, if only you had the chance.

Now you're stuck at an eerie castle, where uncomfortably several servants, cooks, and concubines scatter around. Thankfully for your poor unfortunate life, you were captured to become one of his personal cooks. You wonder if that was his last minute choice, to take you as his cook due to the aroma of your baked goods. It was understandable, however you would've picked to be sliced into pieces like your fellow villagers than to work for him. Fortunately for you, you didn't become a servant, you knew you were tidy, but not tidy enough to work as a servant. You were heavily grateful for not being a concubine, perhaps you werent..qualified enough to bring pleasure to him. hurtful, yes, but you you could not dare think of being used as a mere toy he could play with whenever he pleased—..maybe it would be better, not him. After all, you dont understand sorcery and curses as your now burned down village was secluded.

♡⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹♡

You silently hum a tune to yourself as you were left alone at the large kitchen after miss Uraume said you were assigned to make the Lord's meal. The ingredients you were givej and said to use were..odd. atleast one of them were as the others were simple ingredients like seasonings and fresh vegetables. It was pieces of meat unknown to you. Maybe it was because you weren't wealthy enough to buy them. Maybe.

You tried to get comfortable around the castle, it wasnt that difficult to since you've never seen Lord Sukuna walk around anywhere, you doubt he was even here..until now that is. You did your own observations here and there, which you had obtained hypothetical facts about him.

you slide the plate with his meal to the side and take the wooden chopping board along with a knife and basil leaves, ready to cut it up to finish off the meal, you start chopping, but your thoughts go another place.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

1. The human form of gluttony.

— He's quite a man..or demon of appetite. Though he doesn't demand for food much, the amount of cooks handpicked be him to serve meals says tons. Its as if he prioritizes them. The food— not the cooks, that I know.

2. ..hormonal.

— The terrifying amount of concubines he has is..terrifyingly uncomfortable. It is not my business to talk about it as I am a cook, a mere servant for him. But that fact doesn't make it any less uncomfortable to think of when I look at him..well, think of him, since I've never seen him in person.

3. Mysogin—

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Your eyes widen when you feel the sharp blade cut through the pad of your finger. Hissing in surprise, your dominant hand drops the knife to the wooden cutting board as you shake your bleeding hand to lessen the sting.

Using your uninjured hand, you take the chopped basil leaves and sprinkle it on the meal you made, finish it off right on time as a maid—wait..a woman with a golden kimono..a..concubine? Arent concubines simply for the kings pleasure? Why is she here? Your thoughts slip out of your mouth before you notice. "Am I not allowed to bring food for my King?" She responds in a snarky tone. Ah. You remember this maid, Yorozu was her name? You don't know. But you do know that shes delusional. Clinging onto lord sukuna like a leech, thinking her feelings were reciprocated. Poor woman doesnt know he merely sees her as an object. (You dont feel sympathy with the way she talks to you, fortunately.) "I don't think this is any of your business, but I'll forgive you." She walks closer to you, nudging her shoulder with yours before taking the prepared food. You give her an annoyed side glare, keeping quiet.

♡⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹♡

"My lord, your meal has arrived." The maid's voice echoes around the dining room after the clinking of a bell. "It's about time it does. I suppose my standards about my cooks are too low, no?"

.... *unfinished asf*

And yeah. Tahts it. First piece of writing i did. Never finished it. Dont think i will 🤗

#jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #lmao #sorry #im sorry #☆— 【 fanfiction !! 】

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 2 days

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I really wanna do something where the reveal rift/post crisis stuff and the harunel serum coincide. With some witchery and Red Daughter thrown in for flavor. Its been percolating for a little bit, and since I'm trying to focus on the firefighter cop au, I'm going to word vomit some stuff here to get it out of my brain.

Basically, Lena and Kara have their falling out, and Kara leaves Lena to be a villain. Except Non Nocere doesn't happen and Lena just wants to get on top of her shit again. Like, Lex is a dick who doesn't deserve to be alive, so why would she just sit there and suffer his smarminess? She's not on his side, she's not on Supergirl's side-- she's on her own damn side.

Except Lex anticipates that, so he has Otis grab her and he sticks Lena in a Kaznian lab where they're experimenting with the harun-el serum, trying to see if they can use it to imbue humans with kryptonian powers without sacrificing control or turning them into monsters, right? It involves long and slow exposure, so they strap Lena down, stick her full of needles, and get to work.

But Red Daughter finds out, and though Lex gives her some bullshit about trying to help Lena, she doesn't quite buy into it. She can't bring herself to act directly against Lex, but she can't stand by while Lena is in agony.

So she goes to Mama Luthor.

Posing as Kara Danvers, she pointedly asks Lillian if she knows what Lex is doing, or what he has planned. She asks Lillian if she knows where her daughter is.

Which is how Lillian discovers that Lena is no longer in National City, and she tracks her children down to the Kaznian lab. She finds her way in and locates Lena-- and she is horrified by what she sees. Lena strapped to a table with a dozen needles puncturing into deep tissue, drugged and groggy and helpless. She's there when the next round of injections hits, and sees the agony as Lena screams and struggles against her bonds.

When the effects fade enough for Lena to go slack, Lillian immediately gets to work freeing her. She helps Lena off the table and supports her all the way back to helicopter she arrived in, shooting down any guard who tries to get in their way.

Lillian only knows one place Lena might be safe from Lex-- the Tower. The Superfriends open their pounding door to find Lillian standing there with Lena all but unconscious against her. Kara is of course horrified, and brings them in immediately. When she asks what happened, Lillian snaps "maybe you should tell me, Supergirl, as it was you who brought the situation to my attention."

Kara is utterly confused. "What? I haven't seen since before the end of the world" etc. Lillian glares at her.

"Well if it wasnt you, who was it?"

At that point, Red Daughter touches down on the balcony.

"It was me."

----

Once Red Daughter explains what she knows, they hunker down and wait for Lex. Its not long before a situation pulls them all from the Tower, and only when its over do they realize it was a ploy to get Lena alone.

They rush back to the Tower to find Lex's helicopter on the roof, and two goons already in the process of dragging a limp, hooded Lena to the waiting chopper while Lex oversees the operation from inside his Lexosuit. He is not at all surprised-- or concerned-- to see them.

He holds them all at bay while the helicopter takes off with Lena inside it. But as the aircraft rises higher into the sky, a strange pressure starts to build. Suddenly, a flash of purple heat vision slices through the helicopter from the inside out. It starts to spiral toward the ground, its crash inevitable.

"Go!" Kara shouts to Red Daughter, who zips over and manages to snatch Lena from the helicopter before it hits the ground. She lands with Lena cradled in her arms, except Lena is no longer limp-- no longer helpless.

Rising slowly, the odd pressure in the air continues to build as Lena opens her eyes to reveal her green eyes have gone completely black. Around her, every loose pebble, twig, and gravel on the roof starts to shake, humming with that same pressure. The detritus on the roof starts to lift into the air, hovering from thousands of invisible strings-- the strange energy charging the air is clearly coming from Lena.

She turns towards her brother, who has paused in his struggle against Supergirl to watch the pinnacle of his creation. It's strange, though-- matter manipulation wasn't a reported effect of the harun-el.

Just as he sees the moment of Kara's similar distraction for Lena, Lex turns and winds back to strike. The energy in the air seems to snap, and every bit of floating debris shoots straight towards Lex, with enough force to pierce skin and hull alike. It shreds the lexosuit to gaping, jagged metal-- but thats not enough.

The energy in the air starts to build again, but this time it's centered directly overtop Lex, pressing down and down until metal groans and rends, and Lex starts to heave for breath under the immense pressure.

That's when Kara comes back to herself. "Lena! Lena, stop!"

Lena doesn't seem to hear. All of her attention is on Lex, and when Kara edges closer, she sees that in the center of Lena's black eyes, purple irises glint expressionlessly in the sun.

"Lena, listen to me! I know you're in there! Please, you don't want to do this."

Kara moves to stand between Lena and her brother, intent on breaking Lena's intense eye contact with Lex, but Lena's head tilts to maintain it. Only then does Kara risk reaching out to touch her, turning Lena's face to look at her instead.

"I know you're in there," Kara says firmly. "And I need you to listen to me. Killing him might be the answer-- but it doesn't have to be *your* answer. This choice will destroy. It already almost did. So I am asking you, as my friend, to stop."

The last causes Lena to falter. She blinks, and Kara hears Lex gulp down a large breath as the pressure eases slightly. That's it.

"Yes," Kara coaxes. "Come on. Come back to us. Come back to me, Lena. Please."

Slowly, the black in Lena's eyes fade to their natural whites-- but the purple remains. Behind Kara she hears the Lexosuit clang uselessly againsy the roof as it collapses, Lex still trapped inside as he wheezes. Lena stares at Kara, blinking almost drunkenly in the sun.

"Kara..."

Kara issues a tearful laugh of relief, and throws her arms around Lena, hugging her close.

"Yes," she says, her chin wobbling. "I'm here, Lena."

Lena slowly lifts her arms to embrace her back, still dazed.

"Thank you," Kara murmurs. "Thank you for hearing me."

#supercorp #harunel meets red daughter meets rift meets witch #bc what would have happened if Lenas witchiness had interacted with the harunel serum #i have questions #i wanna explore this #just dunno when #im posting and then putting a reblog in my drafts to come back to later

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loving-barnes · 3 days

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LOGAN HOWLETT - A LITTLE GAME

A/N: New Wolverine one-shot. I tried and... I don't know. I like the beginning and then it's like.. okay? Let me know your thoughts.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: I have decided not to give proper warnings. I don't want to spoil the story. BUT please, only 18+. Minors DNI.

Words: 4000+

Important note: HughJackman!Wolverine (so he's tall!)

FULL MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - A LITTLE GAME

Everyone was looking for her - Magneto’s brotherhood, the X-men, the Avengers and god knows who else. They all wanted her - for good, for bad, to use or to kill. She became the biggest threat in a matter of seconds. That’s why Logan had to be the one to find her first.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get her for months. She was sneaky, using her power to hide from the whole world, even from him. Leaving the continent would be too risky. She had to stay in the States, right? Maybe Canada?

It all happened so fast. There was a moment where he questioned everything. In the end, he wanted to fight for her… with her. Was there still a chance he’d find her? She could be anywhere. Surprisingly, Logan never lost hope.

One day, Logan got a tip from some random skanky woman who approached him in a New York dive bar. He was drinking his daily dose of whisky, head lost in thoughts. He had her picture, looking at it. Such an innocent yet powerful being. His heart ached.

“I know her,” the woman approached him out of nowhere. She leaned against the bar, smiling. Her eyes were locked on the photo. “Pretty girl.”

Logan’s eyes found hers, frowning. “Where is she?” he asked angrily.

She chuckled. “Now hang on, sugar,” she sat next to him, exposing her long smooth legs. The miniskirt didn’t leave anything to the imagination. Logan’s eyes travelled from her legs, all the way up to her face, but he was not interested. “How about a drink first?”

He reached for his drink. It went down his throat in a second. He smashed the glass against the bar, shattering it. His eyes darkened. The adamantium claws got out, pressing them against the woman’s throat. Logan was not in a mood to play around.

People gasped. They were afraid. A mutant in a bar threatening other humans was unacceptable. Guns were loaded and pointed at him. Logan didn’t care.

The woman yelped. Fear crept into her eyes. “Tell me where she is or you won’t be able to see the sun rise again,” his voice was low, intimidating.

“S-strip club, down the street,” she managed to get out of her throat. Her body was visibly shaking. “I saw her there. She was there an hour ago. P-please, don’t hurt me.”

He didn’t say anything. The claws retracted back under his skin. Logan was out of the bar in seconds, heading down the street to the club where the woman said she spotted the one he was looking for. His heart beat fast. Was he finally about to get her? It’s been months.

Everyone wanted the most powerful mutant on the planet. Some wanted to use her, others wanted to destroy her. Logan wanted to get to her sooner than the rest of the world. All he desired was to protect her.

She’s more powerful than Jean ever was, said Charles to him not long ago. They didn’t have a name for her. No one knew where her power reached, or what her limits were. Jean’s dark side was destroyed with the help of the Scarlett Witch. With Y/N, they didn’t know what to expect. Was she worse than the Dark Phoenix?

Expect the unexpected, said Charles to Logan once he decided to bring her back.

Logan’s eyes locked on the big pink neon sign of the strip club. He sighed. Of course, she would hide somewhere in plain sight. Who would try to find a woman like her in a place like this? She was the kindest teacher. Innocence was her second name. Everyone would expect her to flee the country, or hide in the mountains. No, she hid under their noses in the city that never sleeps.

Expect the unexpected. Well, shit, he didn’t expect this at all.

He entered the club. The heavy smell of cigarettes and sweet perfumes hit his nose. The lights were flashing as the girls kept dancing around the poles. They slowly undressed for the crowd of hungry eyes. Men were holding bills in their hands, roaring and whistling, ready to throw them at the women.

Drinks were poured into glasses and onto women’s exposed breasts. Some wished to lick them, to feel their flesh and alcohol on their tongues.

Some ladies brushed their hands against Logan’s shoulders and arms to get his attention. The fake smiles and lustful gazes did nothing for him. They talked to him and tried to seduce him. He remained focused on his goal. His eyes travelled around the place, trying to glimpse Y/N.

Flashes of images hit his mind. He remembered it all - the laughs, the drinks, the simple days back in the X-mansion. The day when their lips first touched, he knew he was a goner.

Logan huffed, anger rising inside of him. Would she sell her body to all those creeps in here? Would she dance for them to make money? The thought of other men touching her body made his blood boil. Logan was sure that if he saw a man touching a piece of Y/N’s skin, he would slice his arm with his claws.

There was no sign of her. Was the woman from the bar lying to him? Was this a trap? Logan’s fists clenched. He had to be careful. Even a place like this could be dangerous. God knows who’d own this place.

Somewhere in the haze, he noticed the familiar eyes watching him. Their colours sparkled in the flashing lights. She was like a goddess, walking around the mist and colours with her long satin robe flying around her. Logan could smell her from afar. The scent was overpowering his senses.

One blink, she was gone. Was he hallucinating? He sighed. His mind had to be playing tricks on him. Or was it her?

Logan.

Her voice rang in his ears. He could smell her more as if she was closer than before. Logan’s body twisted and turned, trying to find her in the crowd. He was sure she was here, watching him like a hawk.

There was a lingering touch on his shoulder. It moved from one side of the shoulder to the other, fingers lightly pressed against his flannel shirt. He could feel the electric touch that belonged to her.

“Y/N,” he breathed her name. No one would be able to hear him over the loud music. “Stop the games.”

He heard a group of women laugh. His eyes moved to them. They gave lap dances to some businessmen. Their hands were all over their bodies.

Again, his nose caught Y/N’s scent. It was so close, closer than before. When his eyes looked forward, he could see her in her full glory. He cursed. Was he supposed to be aroused or upset?

First, he noticed the exposed legs and high heels on her feet. Then there was the dazzling dress that hugged her curves perfectly. Her breasts were about to pop out of that damn outfit. And then there was the damn satin robe. Fuck! Her dress was provocative. Compared to the other strippers, Y/N was wearing more than the rest of the ladies in the club.

What happened to the woman who radiated pure innocence? This was someone else, someone new. Did she have a dark side that decided to wake up from its slumber?

Still, his jeans felt tighter than before.

His legs moved towards her. Logan got through the dancing women who tried to reach for him some more. They wanted a piece of him. When was the last time a man like him walked into a place like this? His eyes and mind were only on one woman.

“Don’t run,” he said to himself. He knew Y/N would hear his words.

Logan knew the game wasn’t over when he heard laughter inside his head. He was close until he wasn’t. She was gone once again. “Dammit, Y/N. Stop this.”

Again, he felt a pair of hands on his shoulder. This time they pushed him down. His ass ended on something soft, comfortable. It was a chair. Where did that come from?

“Want a dance?” He felt a hot breath close to his ear. The touch remained. Logan knew this wasn’t a trick. She was behind him. “I can help you relax.”

Logan had enough of her shit. He swiftly grabbed her wrist, pulling her to him. He was impatient. Her face appeared in front of his. He lost his breath for a second. The red lips, the glitter in her hair… he wanted to devour her. There was a smirk plastered on her face.

“Strip club?” Logan growled. “What the fuck?”

Y/N lazily climbed on his lap, pressing her core onto his forming erection. She bit her lower lip and rested her hands on his broad shoulders. “What’s the matter, Lo’? Don’t you want to have some fun?” she titled her head, raising a brow.

He gritted his teeth. “I’ve been looking for you for months,” he said, angry. “And I find you here? Of all places?”

“It’s good, isn’t it?” she blinked a few times. “Who would have thought that little ol’ me would hide here?”

His hands gripped her hips tightly. He inhaled her sweet perfume. He needed to get straight to the point before he’d lost his mind. “Why did ya run?”

Y/N glared at him. “What kind of a stupid question is that?” she pushed her body from his a little. She had to get a better look at him. “All of you turned against me. One mishap and I became the villain.”

Y/N’s mutation evolved into something no one has ever seen before. It brought the attention of other groups that wanted her neck, or power. The Professor admitted she represented something beyond explanation. Inhuman was the word he used? It was new, dangerous. Fingers were pointed, threats had been made. Everyone pushed until she ran from the X-mansion and left everything behind. Now everyone was after her - the X-men, the Avengers and Magneto. Fuck, she even heard that the government wanted her. God knows how many organisations and bounty hunters were trying to get her. Rewards were made. The numbers had seven figures or more.

Logan’s eyes widen. One of his hands sneaked behind her neck, pulling her closer to him. “I didn’t.”

“Fuck, right,” she rolled her eyes. “When you found out what I could do, you stepped away. I can remember the betrayal in your eyes. Or was it fear? Were you afraid, Logan?” her nose brushed against his. “Were you scared of me or this?” she pointed between them. And then, she pushed away from him.

His right hand gripped Y/N’s hair and pulled on it, exposing her neck. Logan pressed his nose to it, inhaling her sweet scent. “Don’t ever say shit like that,” he threatened. “I was never scared of what was going between us.”

Y/N moved her head and pressed her lips to his ear. “Or did you realise you still wanted Jean?” She hit a sensitive spot. There was a history between Jean and Logan. Y/N knew damn well nothing ever happened between them. The redhead’s eyes were only on Scott. And yet, she had to dig into it.

Logan’s hand moved to her neck, squeezing it. He made her look at him. Even in the dim lights, his eyes darkened. He hated those words that had escaped those pretty red lips. “Stop it,” he growled. “You mean more to me than she ever did.”

Y/N rolled her hips slowly, grinding on his noticeable bulge. Logan moaned with every movement she did. The grip on her throat never loosened. With the flashing lights and changing colours, the tension between them thickened.

“You are lying,” she challenged him.

He squinted at her. “You know damn well I don’t lie, princess.”

Y/N grabbed him by his stupid flannel shirt from all the irritation. “You never reached for me after everything that went to shit!”

“You destroyed a skyscraper in New York,” he told her with a calmer tone. “A fucking skyscraper. Your mutation evolved with a snap of the fingers. No wonder the shock, the fear or everyone’s need to get their hands on you.” Logan pulled her face closer to his. Their lips almost touching. “Before I could collect my thoughts, process what the fuck had happened and get to you, you ran away.”

She squinted at him. “You pulled away from me,” she blamed him.

“I didn’t,” he tightened the grip on her throat. She moaned. “I’ve been looking for you for months - months! You think I’d do that if I pulled away? Do you think I’d pick Jean over you? Don’t think so little of me, princess.”

A rain of flashing lights started. Logan had the perfect chance to see her face. The red lips, the sparkle in her eyes. He saw the whole universe in them.

“Why here?” he had to ask. “Of all places, why did you hide here?”

She showed him her bright smile. “You’d never expect a good girl hiding in a place like this. It kinda worked.”

And then she snapped her fingers. The people around them stopped moving. They became living statues. The music kept going, the lights still flickered and changed. Logan’s eyes widened. His head moved from side to side. Powerful, that’s what Y/N was. And beautiful. Sexy. Dangerous. Good. Her heart was still good. He had to believe.

Waves of anger flashed through his body. It was still a play. If she wanted to play, he would obey - under his rules. “Tell me, baby girl,” the hand from her throat slid down to her breasts. The other hand joined. They squeezed them through the fabric. It made her hips roll some more. “Did you let any of the guys here touch you?” he tilted his head.

Her head tilted back as she enjoyed his big hands on her chest. His nose found her pulse on her neck, pressing his lips to it. He sucked a mark on her neck. “Baby girl, you are mine and only mine,” he growled into her ear.

“What makes you think I’m yours?” she tried to fight back.

“If I was anyone else, you’d use all your powers to get rid of me. Maybe even kill me. You didn’t,” he stated.

“I’d never kill anyone for fun, Logan,” she said. “You know that damn well.” She leaned closer to his face. “I’d never hurt you.”

Their lips met in a kiss that brought colours to their minds. Each colour represented a different plea. I miss you. I need you. I want you. I love you. It was messy, it was sweet. Their tongues danced and explored. It was needy, it was deep. It’s been months since they last shared a passionate kiss.

It brought tears to Y/N’s eyes. As much as she wanted to be strong, in front of him, she couldn’t. He was like a home she never had. Her heart ached that she had to leave him. But what was there to do when they all turned against her? She believed Logan did too.

Logan felt he was falling. Everything around him felt light. And then his back fell onto something soft. The chair under his ass was gone. He grunted, breaking the kiss. There was a bed under his body. “What the shit?” he was confused. “Where are we?”

“Champagne room,” said Y/N who sat on top of him, still fully clothed. The only thing missing was the satin robe. “For some privacy.”

He raised a brow. “And here I thought you’d wanted to give those living statues a show.” That’s when he heard laughter from behind the walls. The people were moving again.

Y/N’s thumb swiped over Logan’s lips. They were stained from the red lipstick she wore. Before she retracted it, he pressed a kiss to it. “Since when did you learn to teleport?” he asked. “Last time I checked, you didn’t know how to do half of what you did today.”

“Just a mind trick, no teleportation,” she said.

Logan wrapped his arms around her waist and abruptly jumped on his feet. He held her tightly until he smashed her back against the nearest wall. She lost her breath for a moment. “I’m not fucking you on that disgusting bed. God knows how many people fucked on it before us.”

“Shame,” she shrugged. “I thought you liked it dirty.” Y/N’s legs clenched around his waist.

Logan’s lips were back on hers in a hungry kiss. When one of his hands reached down to her covered heath, she moaned into his mouth. “There’s the pretty sound,” he chuckled. His lips moved to her neck where he kissed and nibbled on her skin until he left another mark there. That’s when his fingers found the strap of her thong, ripping it off her in one harsh pull.

He looked into her eyes, grinning like a devil. “I can feel how wet you are for me, pretty girl.” His middle finger had buried deep inside of her. “Did other men make you this wet?”

Y/N whined. “I’d never let any other man touch me, Logan,” she confessed.

He tilted his head. This time, two fingers slipped inside of her, fucking her with them. “Then why hide in a strip club?” He curled his finger, hitting a sweet spot.

“Ah! I knew no one would ever come looking for me here,” she gasped every time his fingers brushed against the place that made her toes curl. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Is that so?” he kept questioning her.

She tried to swallow the moans. “I’ve protected the girls from the perves,” she cried.

“God, you are dripping.” His fingers left her core and went straight to his mouth, tasting her. “Pretty princess, you taste divine,” he smirked. Immediately, his lips pressed against her in a messy kiss.

His body pressed hers even more onto the wall as one of his free hands went to his jeans to get out his painfully hard dick. He pressed the tip against her entrance, pushing it slowly in.

“Ah, shit,” she cursed. Her mouth was wide open as she felt every inch of him.

Once he bottomed out, his lips kissed her gently. “Taking my cock like the good girl you are,” he praised.

“Logan,” she moaned his name. “Please, fuck me.”

He pulled out slowly, leaving just the tip in. “Since you asked so nicely,” and he thrust back into her, making her squeal. She clenched around his cock with every move he made. “Doing so good, princess,” he praised her. “Taking me so well.”

It was fast, intense. Before she knew it, Y/N felt her orgasm approaching. One of his hands was already between their bodies, circling her clit. “Fuck, so close,” she mumbled incoherently. “Logan… Logan, please…”

“Hold it, Y/N,” he ordered. “I’m almost there too.”

“I… c-can’t,” she whined. Tears appeared in her eyes. The pleasure was surprisingly intense. Many feelings wanted to burst out into the open. Their lips pressed together in a sloppy kiss. He kept pounding into her as they tried to swallow each other’s moans.

What if this was for the last time? What if this would be their goodbye?

Her insides clenched around his cock as she reached her peak. Her breath quickened. She became a moaning mess while he kept fucking her through her orgasm.

“I’m gonna fill you up, pretty girl,” he announced, staring into her eyes. His breath got lost as the release came, painting the insides of her walls white. The thrusts slowed down until he remained buried inside of her while his cum slowly dripped down his dick.

Logan’s eyes found hers in a post-orgasmic haze. “So pretty,” he grinned. He watched as she tried to catch her breath. “My beautiful baby girl.”

Slowly, he pulled out of her. Y/N gasped once she felt empty. Carefully, Logan pulled her from the wall and put her legs on the floor. He held her tightly. “Fuck,” she cursed.

“You good?” he asked.

Her eyes lifted, meeting his. She smiled at him. “Yes,” she nodded.

Logan put back his jeans while she fixed her already short, slutty dress. There was silence. With each passing second, it got heavier and more awkward.

“I love you,” Logan confessed his feelings. One of his hands reached for her cheek, stroking it with a thumb. “I love you, princess. Goddammit, I fucking love you.”

Her eyes kept scanning his face. These words were never said before. This was new. Y/N’s heart wanted to burst from Logan’s confession. Now that he reciprocated the feelings, she knew she’d do anything for him.

“Come with me, please. I don’t want you to stay here, of all places,” he frowned. Even though they fucked in a strip club, he wasn’t fond of it.

She sighed. “Everyone wants to get me, Logan,” she said sadly. “Once I leave, the hunt will begin - the Brotherhood, the Avengers, the government. I can’t go back to X-mansion. That’s the first place they’ll check. I can’t endanger the kids.”

This is what he was looking for. She was still a good woman. “So staying in a strip club is better?” he questioned. “Or are you trying to say you don’t want to be with me? Is that it?”

Her eyes widen, mouth open. “What? No, no,” she grabbed his big hands, holding them tightly. “I love you, Logan. The only thing I want is to be with you. How can I do that when the world is against me?”

“You are the most powerful mutant on this planet,” he said. “You can do anything you put your mind to.”

“And that makes me dangerous,” she stated. “Fuck, I put down a whole skyscraper with my powers. It was not my intention to do it, but it happened. People were hurt while I tried to save them. Fuck, Logan, the United Nations are now questioning whether mutants can be trusted again. It’s all my fault.”

Logan shook his head, not wanting to accept she wouldn’t leave this place. He had to take her home, where she belonged. The school needed her. Everyone in the X-mansion was worried about her. “Baby,” Logan’s arm sneaked around her waist and pulled her closer to him. “We’ll figure something out. I won’t let any of those fuckers take you away from me. I’ll do everything to keep you safe and protected.”

Her eyes sparkled with tears. “Oh, Logan,” her hand reached for his face, fingers grazing the mutton chops. She chuckled a little. “You are the only man who can pull this off,” she winked at him. “It suits you.”

“So, what do ya say? Come home with me. That’s where you belong.”

“Promise me this, Logan - you’ll be on my side, no matter what happens. Please, promise me this,” she pleaded. “Because, genuinely, I am terrified. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I will if someone tries to get to those I love.”

He could see it was important to her, to have someone standing by her no matter what. “I promise, princess,” he kissed her knuckles gently. “Fuck, if I could, I would promise you the world.”

How could this grumpy, dangerous man be such a sweetheart to her? It made her knees weak. He was in love and so was she. “Quick question, how will we get back to X-mansion?”

Logan licked his lips. “I have a bike parked at a bar where a woman gave me a tip you work here,” her winked at her.

She made a face. “Yeah, Wendy, she texted me about you,” Y/N winked at him. “I’m mad that you wanted to kill her.”

“Fuck her,” he growled. “Did she write you she was hitting on me?” he raised a brow.

A simple glare was the answer he needed. “So, does that mean you’ll come with me?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

His lips crashed with hers in a loving kiss. Logan’s arms wrapped around her waist, hugging her tightly. “That’s good, baby. Also,” he pressed his lips to her ear. “That little game you played with me when I arrived - hot.”

Y/N smiled. “It wasn’t planned. I needed to find out your true intentions.”

“Through the art of seduction?”

“Something like that.”

#Logan Howlett x reader #Logan Howlett x female reader #Logan Howlett x reader angst #Logan Howlett x reader fluff #Logan Howlett x reader smut #Logan Howlett #Wolverine #Wolverine x reader #Wolverine x female reader #Marvel fanfiction #X-men fanfiction

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 3 days

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The Kidney Bean & The Grape (The Surprise, Part 3)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: emetophobia (nothing graphic, but characters discuss morning sickness), mostly fluff, established relationship, pregnancy times, some explicit language Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: Weeks 8 & 9 of your pregnancy are underway. Morning sickness has hit you like a freight train and you're feeling sick and gross and weak. Thankfully, Emily is always there by your side.

Week 8: The Kidney Bean

You slumped into the wall next to the toilet, shaking, a thin coating of sweat covering your face. You were so tired, so tired, of throwing up. You’d read that not all pregnant people experienced morning sickness, and that not all of the ones who did puked, and not all the ones who puked did so on a daily basis. You sent a silent fuck you into the ether to all those people.

Emily crept into the bathroom, a cup of ice chips and your favorite tiny spoon in hand. “Oh, honey,” she said, looking at you with the most pitiful, helpless expression you’d ever seen. Your hunched, exhausted body broke her heart.

You groaned and leaned your head against the tiled wall, trying to breathe steadily as waves of nausea coursed through you.

Emily grabbed a washrag from under the sink, running it under the faucet and squeezing out the excess. She folded it carefully, then sat down on the floor next to you, placing the cool rag gently on the back of your neck. She played with the messy strands of hair at your nape as she held the washrag in place.

“You think you can manage some ice chips?” she asked quietly. You thought for a moment before nodding.

You sat up and reached to grab the cup from her, your hand grazing one of your breasts. A searing, rhythmic pain shot through your body, and you doubled over, clutching your chest.

“Ow! Fuck!” you yelled, bursting immediately and uncontrollably into tears. Pain and nausea and hormones coursed through you like tributaries of some awful, body-wide river. Yet another thing you hated about being pregnant.

“What!? What happened!? Are you okay!?” Emily asked, scanning your body for harm.

You leaned into her, and she wrapped her arms protectively around your shaking body. You could count on one hand the number of times in your adult life that you’d full-on sobbed–until the last two weeks. Now you’d need at least four or five hands.

“I–” you gasped, gulping in great breaths of air as tears streamed down your face. “I hit my boob when I reached for the ice!” It would be funny if you weren’t so pitiful, if you hadn’t been nauseated and in pain for eight days straight now. The knowledge that it could and likely would last for months made you physically ill.

Emily shushed you and held your face to her chest as you cried. She knew that you’d both made the decision that you would carry. And that it was a smart decision–you were younger than her, your career was less demanding and unpredictable, and you worked from home. But at this moment? She wished with everything in her that it was her body and not yours going through all this.

As Emily rocked you, she felt like crying, too, even though this wasn’t hard for her, at least not like it was for you. It was easy to hold you when you cried. Easy to be there for you, to comfort you. To bring you plain toast and ice chips and to hand wash your tiny spoon so it was always ready. It was easy to hold back your hair while you vomited, to scrub the toilet every night so it’d be clean when you got up in the morning.

This was the hard part: watching you struggle, watching your body go through absolute hell, and not being able to do a thing about it. Somehow it was worse because you’d chosen to do it. For her. For the both of you, so that you could start a family. Emily had never realized what an immense sacrifice it was to grow a baby. You’d sacrificed your body, your time, your comfort, everything, to house this little human. It was humbling to watch.

When your sobs quieted to the occasional sniffle, she started running her fingers through your hair, matching the rhythm to your breath–or maybe it was the other way around.

“I’m so sorry you feel so bad, honey,” Emily said, her mouth pressed to the side of your head, trying to convey all the love and empathy and admiration she held for you. “Thank you for doing all this. For me and for us and for the little kidney bean. You’re amazing.”

You sat up, slowly reaching to grab the cup of ice chips.

“I thought we were calling her the blueberry?” you said, your voice still wavering, as you pressed the cool spoon experimentally to your lips.

Emily rubbed your back in gentle circles, her fingers cool and soothing from holding the ice chips. “Last week he was a blueberry. This week he’s the size of a kidney bean.”

You scrunched your eyebrows in thought, your hair a hornet’s nest, tiny little spoon poking out of your mouth. Emily beamed at you. Even now, when you felt your absolute shittiest, you were the most adorable person she’d ever clapped eyes on.

“So we’re just gonna change her nickname every week?”

“I mean, I am,” Emily decided, scooping a piece of ice out of your cup and crunching it in her mouth. “It helps me remember how big he is.”

You sighed, placing a gentle, protective hand over your stomach. Minus the puking and the insane hormones, it was still hard to believe there was a little human inside of you.

“You’re giving me a lot of shit, bean,” you said, directing your voice to your stomach. “You better be really cute.”

Emily leaned her head against your shoulder. “He’s made of you,” she observed. “How could he not be?”

You looked at her, feeling tears prickle at your eyes again. You huffed, sniffling and attempting to suck the tears back into your body.

“Ugh, stop being so romantic!” you exclaimed, smiling and wiping away a few rogue tears. You took her hand in yours, letting out a deep, shaky breath. “If you keep that up, I’ll never stop crying.”

“Anything for you,” she acquiesced. And you knew she meant it. She really would do anything for you. She’d go to the ends of the earth for you.

“Anything?”

“Mmhm,” she nodded.

“Even Ritz crackers?”

She laughed and kissed the side of your head before pushing herself to her feet. “One plate of Ritz crackers, coming right up.”

“My hero!” you called after her. And you meant it.

Week 9: The Grape

You wrestled against the apple slicer, standing on tiptoes to try to get enough leverage to break through. You were unreasonably angry at how much you were struggling. Leverage was usually an issue–you were short. But now your arms were weak and achy, too, like they were made of rubber.

Emily walked through the door, dropping her bag by the entryway and smiling at your struggling, tiptoed form.

“Need some help?” she asked, wrapping her arms around you from behind and kissing you on the cheek.

“No,” you huffed.

She raised her eyebrows at you.

You sighed. “Yes.”

“That’s what I thought,” she gloated, planting tiny, fluttering kisses all over your face and neck until you were giggling and your frustration had dissipated.

Emily maneuvered your body around so she could place her hands on either side of your face. She stared into your eyes for a moment before leaning down to kiss you. You didn’t know what she’d seen at work that day, what kind of gruesome, perverted crimes she was dealing with, but whatever it was, you could feel the stress of it, the darkness, seeping off and away as she relaxed into you. She kissed you eagerly, earnestly, as if you were a cool body of water after a long, dry journey.

When you ran out of air, you pulled away and pressed your head into her chest, wrapping your arms tightly around her. She exhaled heavily and carefully cradled the back of your head, resting her chin on top.

“You’re really great to come home to, you know that?” she told you, her voice vibrating around you as you hugged her.

“You want to talk about it?” you asked quietly, pulling away to look her in the eyes.

She shook her head. “No, not yet.”

You nodded and squeezed her hand. You wouldn’t push her to tell you, you never did. But she knew you were there to listen when she was ready to talk.

“Alright, let’s get you your snack,” she said, clearly wanting to move away from thinking about work.

You opened a cabinet, standing on tiptoes again to try and reach a jar of peanut butter.

“Hey,” Emily chastised, grasping at your reaching hand and squeezing it. “You go sit down. I’ll get it.”

“I can get my own snack, Emily,” you protested. You knew you were going to have to be less independent during your pregnancy, and it was a hard transition for you to make. You didn’t like depending on people, even Emily, though you were getting better about it the longer you were in a relationship with her.

“I know you can,” she said, pressing down the apple slicer as if it was nothing but a stapler. “But I like to take care of my wife.”

You couldn’t help but smile, blushing a little, as Emily peeled off one of the apple slices and popped it in your mouth.

“Now go sit down,” she ordered, playfully smacking your ass. You rolled your eyes but did as you were told. “Why don’t you queue up one of those animated shows you like so much? I’m not done with She-Ra yet, am I?”

Your face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Really!?”

She chuckled. “Yeah, of course. I gotta find out if they finally kiss.” She stared at you pointedly. “It seems like they should, right?” She was always trying to get you to reveal plot spoilers, and you were so gullible you often fell for it.

You raised your hands and shook your head as you plopped down on your corner of the couch.

“Listen, I’ll neither confirm nor deny any Sapphic plotlines.”

“Asshole,” she called, spooning peanut butter onto a plate with the apples.

She walked over to you, plate in hand, and sat down on the couch, raising her hands in the air so you could get into your normal TV-watching position.

You’d been embarrassed at first by how much you loved your head in Emily’s lap, how comfortable and safe it made you feel. For months when you’d first started dating, you’d always wait for her to pull you into her, breathing a sigh of relief when she finally did. Until one day, she’d sat down on the couch, lifted up her arms and said, “Come on, get in your spot.”

You rested your head in her lap, relishing the weight of her arms as she lowered them. You pressed play on She-Ra, and Emily passed you an apple slice dipped in peanut butter. You crunched happily. This was a good night for you. Your favorite show. Your favorite snack. Your favorite person. Almost no nausea!

Between apple slices, Emily ran her fingers through your hair. You hadn’t felt so relaxed in weeks. So relaxed you could almost…

“Hey,” Emily prompted, holding out an apple slice, but you didn’t answer. She looked down and brushed your hair out of your eyes to find you sound asleep. She smiled softly and ate the apple slice herself.

Emily loved watching you sleep. You always slept curled, your fist resting next to your face like a baby whose thumb had slipped out of its mouth in the middle of the night. She wondered briefly if the baby would sleep like that, too, and the thought gave her butterflies. She paused the show, knowing you’d be sad later if she watched it without you–you liked to watch her watch.

She scrolled through shows and movies, but finally gave up. All she wanted to watch was you. Her heart melted as you tensed and stretched a little in your sleep, your hand wrapping protectively around your stomach. She knew she should get up, should move you to the bed. She knew that once you got there, you’d curl right back into her. That she would wrap her arms tightly around you and bury her head in your neck and hold you and the baby. She’d hold you both so close, so careful and secure, and she’d sleep well knowing you were there next to her.

There was only one person in the world she trusted to keep her family safe, and that was her. Soon, she’d move you to the bedroom. Soon, she’d turn off the lights and arm the alarms and crawl into bed next to the love of her life and her unborn child. But for now–she just wanted to watch you, your hair through her fingers and the sound of your breathing grounding her to all that was good in the world.

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