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writer-kermit · 7 months

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sweet like candy.

❥ PAIRING: NANAMI KENTO × GN!READER

❥ GENRE: SMUT

❥ COMMISSIONED OR SELF-MADE: SELF-MADE

❥ WORD COUNT: 1.2k

ঞ~SUMMARY: It's the night of Halloween. And your lover Nanami Kento is certainly in for a treat.

ᰔ KERMIT'S NOTE: I LIVE! I HAVE RISEN BACK ONCE MORE! I like to apologize for my lack of posting. I've been really busy with work and I lacked motivation for the past few months. As a celebration of TickleTober, I've decided to create this fic. I will try my best to write more. And thank you to the people who stuck around! If you want commissions, DM me or visit my Ko-Fi. If you want, I'm also drawing commissions too! Thanks for the support!

P. S: I had no specific prompt I just did all of them (almost)

ʚ WARNING: NSFW, Sensual biting, Teasing, Erotic Tickling, Overstimulation, MINORS!! PLEASE GO AWAY.

It was that time of year again—the year when children would wear their most flamboyant costumes and wander around the luminous and chilly neighborhood. The children would knock on each home, hoping to receive something good to eat. Upon their next home, they would meet a particular house that wasn’t fond of trick-or-treaters. That house was none other than the Kento’s residency.

The house looked empty and eerie. You could’ve mistaken it for an actual haunted house. Those who were cocky enough to knock on the door will meet with a surprise.

A go-away sign? Welp, better luck next time kids; Nanami Kento doesn’t celebrate Halloween.

Ah yes, Hallow’s Eve. Nanami’s least favorite holiday. Not because he’s an envious adult, but because he hates the obnoxious noises he’ll have to endure until late at night.

You, however–enjoyed the thriller nights. You’d gaze at the children running along the neighborhood in search of some candy. You missed the times you’d trick-or-treat with your friends and family. As you slowly closed your bedroom window, you turned to your lover Nanami, who was too busy watching the latest horror movie.

“Oh Kento,” you sighed, “don’t you miss trick-or-treating as a kid?” Nanami flicked his eyes at you before quickly peering back at the television. “I don’t like Halloween that much.” He stated. “And why is that?” You asked, now sitting beside him. “There is no reason. I merely enjoy the alluring night when Halloween comes to an end.”

"I knew you’d say something like that.” You chuckled. “I guess you’re right,” Nanami smiled. “But there is one thing I like about this holiday.” A cocky smirk curved on your lips. “I bet it’s the candy, right?” You gestured. Nanami looked at you casually. He then pulled you into bed, making you lie down.

“You’re correct. How did you know, dear?” He asked. “Hehehe… You’re always a sucker when it comes to sweet things.” You replied. Nanami chuckled at your comment. “I will admit that,” He hummed, “But there is this one rare candy that I’m fond of nowadays.” As Nanami says that, he gets on to of you, making you anxiously giggle. “I wonder what this new candy is called,” You replied. “It’s called the [....] special. It’s currently my favorite.” “Oh yeah?” “Yes. And I’m dying to know the flavor.”

Wasting no time, Nanami pressed his lips against yours. He kept your tongue preoccupied as his hands crept under your shirt, his fingers gently caressing your tummy. He then pulled back from the kiss leisurely, awing at the feverish look plastered on your face.

“Mmm… Just as I thought,” Nanami husked. “You are sweet like candy.” He then kissed your neck, making you gasp in surprise. You moan softly between his kisses, almost tickled by his lips against your skin. A shy giggle escaped your lips as he gently tugged your skin.

“W-wait…” You whispered. “Ken…that tickles…” Nanami’s ears rang to know you were ticklish. A small smirk curved on his lips. “Is that so?” He teased. “Would you like me to stop then?” “N-no! I don’t hate it or anything. It’s just that this feeling is unusual.” You said. Nanami gave you a reassuring kiss. “Shall we sort out this unusual feeling together?” He asked you. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t hesitate. However, you couldn’t help but nod for the thrill of it.

You watched Nanami as he pinned your arms above your head. “Keep your arms up. You can do that for me, right?” He asked you. “That depends on what you’re gonna do.” You remarked.

Nanami didn’t reply to your response. Instead, he let his calloused fingers do the talking. He slowly rubbed the palms of your hands, radiating a ticklish feeling.

His fingers slowly descend, now getting dangerously close to your underarms. You tried squirming away without pulling down your arms. But Nanami was quick to straddle you. His fingers scribbled across your poor armpits without warning, forcing you to pull your arms down.

“Ehahaha! W-wait! Wahaihaihait!” You squealed. “Wait for what?” Nanami cooed. “Don’t tell me you’re backing down so soon.” “N-not true!” You recoiled. “I just wasn’t ready! That’s all.” “You don’t have to be ready, sweetheart.” He replied. “Now, keep those arms up. Don’t even think about pulling them down.”

“Nn…” You whined, slowly putting your arms back up–only for Nanami’s fingers to attack you again. Scribbling and scratching against your poor ribs. You arched your back almost instantly. Your head turned from side to side as the tickling was unbearable.

“AHhnn! Kentohoho wait!” You pleaded, clenching your fist together. “I’m sorry baby. But I already lost my patience with you.” Nanami hummed, nuzzling against your neck. His hands slowly spider across your sides and back. “Nooahahaa! P-please, slohohow down!”

Nanami found peace through your whines and pleading. He dipped his head down to your stomach, planting tiny kisses and nibbling across your sensitive skin.

“I love this cute tummy…” Nanami muttered, his hot breath grazing your skin. “It’s soft and warm like baked bread. Wouldn’t you agree [....]?” Your words became inaudible. A mixture of laughter and moans escaped from your lips.

Nanami chuckled at your state, enjoying the lovely noises you made for him. He continued teasing your tummy. His hands clawed on your hips to keep you in place. Suddenly, his tongue slipped inside your navel, tickling you in a frenzy of hysterical laughter.

“HEEHAH!” You shrieked, right before covering your mouth with your hands. “And this adorable belly button,” Nanami teased, “It’s sensitive hm?” You only giggled and shook your head. “You liar….” He cooed, gently blowing at your navel. As he went further down, he stared at your twitching sex.

“[....],” Nanami sang to you, “don’t tell me you’re getting aroused just from me tickling you.” “Hehehe! N-no!” You panicked, pressing your legs together. “I-it’s not like that at all…” “It’s not? Then why so shy love?”

Nanami slowly spread your legs apart, revealing your aching spot. You let out a squeaky moan in surprise when Nanami’s fingers stroked you lustfully. You watched him hazily as he peeled your remaining undergarments.

“It seems like the [....] added a new flavor.” He joked. Nanami then grasped your inner thighs as he leveled his head at your sex. His breath only inches away from you. He then looked up at you again, taking detail of your shallow breaths and heated face. “Thank you for the treat….” He rasped.

Nanami then wrapped his lips against your sex. His tongue was light and gentle. Yet the sensations rushed through your body. You moaned happily as he growled and moaned against your sex. “Ahahaha… K-Kento… Kento…” You moaned, bucking your hips repeatedly. Nanami let out reassuring hums as he massaged your hips, stimulating you further.

“Your flavor…” Nanami grunted, “It’s so enticing. I want more of it… I want more of you…” He kissed your lips with hunger, and you melted into the kiss almost instantly. You then felt something poke your thigh. You then had an idea.

“Oh Kento,” You sang, “did you know that there’s a new candy in stores?” “Hm? What’s it called?” Nanami asked. “The Nanami - Delux. I assumed you heard of it.” His lips turned into a curt smile. “Suppose I have,” he replied, pulling out his leaking cock. “Are you willing to take responsibility?” You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Perhaps. I’ve been dying to know your flavor.”

#writing #jujustu kaisen #jujustu kaisen fic #jujustu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen tickling #jjk #jjk fic #jjk smut #jjk tickling #Nanami Kento #nanami kento fic #nanami kento smut #nanami x you #nanami x reader

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fayes-fics · 1 year

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It Had To Be You: Chapter 2 - Pour myself a cup of ambition

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairings: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (also features Thomas Dorset x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x Tessa), Modern AU

Chapter Summary: Set 5 years after Chapter 1 (linked above). As your job takes you abroad for the very first time, you bump into the last person you expect on another shared journey full of revelations.

artwork credit: @colettebronte

Warnings: none really… some sexual language, swear words, bickering, and flirting.

Word Count: 2.2k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Chapter 2 of my multi-chapter modern rom-com, heavily inspired by When Harry Met Sally. Sorry that it's taken a while to get this next part written. I hope you all enjoy! <3

7 years ago (5 Years Later)

You stand just before the security gates at St Pancras International, engaging in a rare PDA moment. But you justify to yourself that this is the first time you have had to go away on business since you started your new relationship three months ago, and this one seems like great potential. Dr Tom Dorset. Friendly, sweet, handsome and, so far at least, well-adjusted and emotionally mature. Your friends agree he’s quite the catch. And he is pretty fantastic in all sorts of other ways too. You certainly have no complaints in the bedroom.

Just as he whispers how much he will miss you and kisses that spot on your neck that makes you a little weak, your moment is interrupted.

“Tom? Tom Dorset? Is that you?”

There in front of you is the man you thought you would never see again. Looking a few years older and dressed better, but there’s no doubt who it is. You’d never forget those eyes.

“Ben? Ben Bridgerton?!” Tom seems delighted, and it occurs to you that they must be old friends as Tom takes his arms from around you and shakes his hand warmly. Just fucking great.

“I thought it was you! I haven't seen you for years! Was the last time when I came to Ant’s at Trinity?! What have you been up to?”

“Medical school mostly,” Tom offers demurely, then turns to you. “Oh, sorry, Ben, this is y/n y/l/n, y/n this is Ben Bridgerton; I was his brother’s roommate at Trinity College, Oxford.”

Ben’s eyes cut to you, and you see a confused look pass over his face; like you are familiar, but he can’t place why.

“Well, I must get this train, but it was great to see you! Email me!” Ben smiles warmly, and with one last brow knit in your direction, he takes off.

“Thank fuck he didn’t remember me,” you exhale loudly when he is out of earshot.

“Ben?” Tom looks confused.

“Yes, We drove from St Andrews to London together five years ago, and it was the worst road trip I think I've ever had,” you bemoan. “He was dating a friend of mine, and I agreed to split the drive. Urgh, it was terrible. He’s so obnoxious.”

Tom looks over your shoulder. “Well, looks like he just got on your train, honey, so umm, good luck with that,” he chuckles, bemused as you roll your eyes.

“Just fucking great,” you sigh sarcastically and plant your head on Tom’s shoulder as he draws you into his safe, warm embrace again.

“I love you; I will miss you,” he says softly, cupping your jaw lovingly as he gently kisses your lips.

It's only the second time he has said it, and your heart flutters as you break into a huge smile. “I love you too. I will be back before you know it,” you promise, pulling him in for a passionate kiss you hope he will remember.

As you part, he exhales raggedly. “God, now I’ll miss you even more.”

“Mmm, that’s the point,” you whisper coquettishly and run a hand down his back, inside his coat, unseen by people around you. “Text me, sexy stuff,” you request quietly, then gently bite his bottom lip.

He groans, “Good god, woman, get on that train before I drag you somewhere or buy a ticket to join you.”

___

You are still giggling and feeling so fizzy and light, like champagne is in your blood, as you skip onboard the train to Paris. Taking your seat in First Class that you’ve been assigned by work feels like such a luxury; excited to cover your first story abroad.

Your phone pings just as the train slips out of the station. Love you. Safe travels. Txx

You can’t help your little titter of happiness, and just as you go to type a reply, someone leans over from the seat diagonally behind you, across the aisle.

“I swear I recognise that giggle. The University of St Andrews?”

It’s Ben. Of course, it is. Thanks for that fate.

“Yes,” you sigh, not turning around, annoyed he doesn't remember more detail. How could he possibly forget calling you beautiful? Your traitorous brain yells in your skull.

“Did we date?” he questions.

You can't help but almost snort at that. “Hell no!” You twist around. “You were dating my friend Gen. We drove to London together after term ended.”

“Oh, I remember now!” he smiles, “you wouldn't give me a Malteser.”

“You propositioned me!” you blurt out as you watch him pull an apple out of his bag.

“No, I didn't,” he laughs, “I just said you were beautiful,” and he takes a bite out of the fruit. “You still are, if it's any consolation,” he offers, around a mouthful.

“None whatsoever,” you fib, feeling your cheeks heat at the compliment. “And you still talk while you eat, like an animal,” you roll your eyes, barely believing how riled up you are from exchanging less than five sentences.

“Would you two like to sit together?” the man opposite you at the table offers.

“No, that's really not….” you begin.

“Yes, thanks!” Ben interrupts, and you scowl at him as he stands immediately, throwing his bag down next to you before swinging over as the man moves aside.

“So you were going to be a journalist?” he winks after he settles into the seat opposite you.

Up close now, he is still just as handsome as he was. Maybe more so, jaw more defined and smattered with stubble. The utter arsehole.

“I am a journalist. My internship at the Guardian turned into a job. I'm going to Paris to cover the climate summit,” you state proudly, squaring your shoulders a little. “You?”

“Visiting my fiancee,” he grins, and something twinges in your gut. Maybe getting tacos for lunch wasn’t a good idea.

“You are getting married? You?” you laugh in total disbelief.

And you are suddenly back in your old studio flat, hearing more about his player reputation. A few months after the drive to London, Gen came to crash on your sofa and commiserate her reentry to single life. She didn't seem that upset about the dalliance ending, to be fair, mostly about how much she’d miss the ‘fucking mind-blowing fucking’ as she had so indelicately put it. You can see the words floating like a speech bubble above her face in your mind “Y/n, I can live without the dick attitude, but damn, I don’t know that I wanna live without that dick, you know?” Then threw herself face-first into a cushion. You cut off her margaritas at that point. How much that had to do with not wanting to think about him and his member, you decided not to dwell on.

“Yes,” he cuts into your reverie. “Her name is Tessa. She's an artist too. She's Parisian.”

“Tres chic.”

“How long have you been with Dorset? Wait, don’t tell me. Let me guess,” he smirks.

You fold your arms and raise an eyebrow. “This ought to be good,” you mutter as much to yourself as to him.

“Hmm, three months?”

Dammit. How did the bastard get it spot on?

“Why?” you try to bluff, but the victorious crooked grin that unfurls over his face shows he knows he's right without you having to say it.

“Goodbye before a trip. Classic three-month behaviour,” he opines, taking another huge bite of his apple.

“Glad to see your eating habits have at least got healthier,” you state dryly, trying to change tack.

“Tessa likes to eat healthily,” he explains with an almost dreamy expression. Part of you is already impressed by this woman you have never met who has turned the human rubbish bin into a more impressive version of a man. “Has he told you he loves you?” he queries, spittling just a speck of apple onto the table.

“Why is that ANY of your business?” you frown.

“Because if he hasn't, he's a fool,” he shrugs casually as if those words aren't some of the sweetest you’ve heard.

“Luckily, he’s no fool,” you respond, confirming without actually confirming.

He nods. “Good. Dorset is a good one. Don't ‘y/n’ him away,” he jests, using air quotes.

“What the fuck does that mean?” you spit, suddenly whiplash angry when just a few moments ago you were impressed with his sweetest.

“You can't smoke in my car. Eating that will kill you,” he adopts a high-pitched voice and waggles his head as he mocks you.

“Fuck you,” you grumble.

“I would have, happily, but you said no,” he winks, and you want to punch him.

“I thought you just denied propositioning me!”

He just shrugs and laughs loudly. You can tell everyone around you is most amused by your back and forth, so instead, you shoot him a glare and then change tack, staring out of the window as the countryside of Kent zips by. So irritated you forget to text Tom back for another five minutes.

___

“Do you know anyone in Paris?” he asks, pulling out an AirPod as you close your laptop sometime later.

The train is somewhere under the Channel, and the darkness of the tunnel outside the window makes the train feel a touch more intimate, claustrophobic even.

“No,” you admit.

“How about Tessa and I take you out for dinner?” he proposes.

“Isn't tonight your first night together in a while?” you frown.

“Yeah… and?” he seems to be either not catching your train of thought or being intentionally obtuse, goading you into a trap to state the obvious.

“I would have thought you'd be otherwise occupied,” you arch an eyebrow pointedly.

“Oh…” he suddenly catches your drift and, rather adorably, a spot of pink dust his lovely cheekbones. OK, maybe not the latter.

“Certainly not wanting a third wheel, like me hanging around,” you point out meekly with a knowing smile.

“If that is your way of offering a threesome, I’m down,” he flirts, his voice suddenly velvet smooth, so much so the hairs on the back of your neck prickle up.

“God’s sake,” you mutter, feigning more indignation than you actually have.

“You're the one who told me about your lesbian experiences at uni!” he argues defensively.

“I was just trying to prove a point!”

“Got to be honest, don't remember a damn thing except the visual that almost had me drive into a bus shelter,” he admits with a chuckle.

“And take out that delivery cyclist,” you remind, joining in.

There is a moment where your eyes meet in a joint nostalgia of amusement, and something feels softer between you.

“Listen, Tess’s brother is a chef at a great little bistro; we will almost certainly end up there anyway, as we usually always do. I'm sure she would be delighted for you to join us,” the sincerity of his offer touches you.

“Thanks, but I have to do some research ahead of tomorrow. I’ll probably just order room service and crash out,” you admit, knowing that is a lame response.

“Fair enough. Well, let's at least exchange numbers this time. Stay in touch? If you are at a loose end at any point, let me know, and we’ll happily give you a tour or just grab a drink?”

“Okay”, you capitulate and hand over your phone for him to punch in his number.

“Wonderful” he smiles genuinely, and his hazy eyes dance. “Are we finally becoming friends?” he teases gently as he seems to fiddle a little longer than needed to put in a few digits.

“I guess so,” you respond with a laugh.

He hands back your phone, and weirdly it's screen locked.

“Good, And as my very first act as your friend, may I make a comment you are not allowed to take offence to?” he questions, with an odd tone.

Your dander is suddenly way up. “Whatttt?” you elongate the word rife with suspicion.

He leans over the train table suddenly, and you startle as his lips are warm against the shell of your ear, your heart-rate spiking. “You have a fucking fantastic pair of tits,” he murmurs.

You splutter, shame, outrage and desire flooding your system in almost equal measure. Incapable of forming words, you sharply pull back into your seat and shoot him your most sour glare.

“Maybe don't hand your phone over when it’s open to the message thread with your boyfriend,” he chuckles.

You feel mortified, recalling the photo you'd texted Tom last night as a going-away present, and you are almost blinded as the train suddenly swoops out of the tunnel and sunlight floods into the compartment.

In fact, you are grateful that he gets a call just at that moment. It seems to last ages, and he wanders away, probably to find the buffet car, knowing him. By the time you see him making his way back through the carriage, the train is pulling into Gare Du Nord. You are on your feet and walking to the next carriage to alight. Not certain you can live down your embarrassment.

There are a few moments as you wander around Paris over the next two days when your fingers itch to dial his number… but you never do, something always stopping you. Bizarrely, you think it might be the idea of meeting his fiancee, and you have no idea what that means, so avoidance seems like the best tactic.

After all, he’s probably moving to Paris soon, so really, what's the point?

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #it had to be you fic

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moodmusicmonday · 1 year

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☘️ Today is the day! ☘️

Happy St. Patrick's Day everyone!

The wheel has been spun, and songs have been assigned. You will be hearing from us within the next hour or so to let you know what song you will be creating for.

Just a quick reminder of the rules:

You can submit a story, art, or any other creative piece based on the Choices story of your choosing.

Submissions are due by 3/31 (if you're running a little behind, no worries at all, we'll still be here).

Make sure you tag us (@moodmusicmonday) in your post so that we can reblog you!

Ready... set... create!

#mood music monday #mmm #luck of the draw #lotd #choices music #choices fandom

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devilruin · 6 months

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【 Please note! 】 ⎯⎯⎯ Please remember to look at each author's do not interact criteria and blog rules before interacting with them! Also, please check each work for specific tags!

if a link to a piece is :

⛧ ⋅ italicized ― it contains explicit content

⛧ ⋅ bold ― it contains dark content

⛧ ⋅ italicized and bold ― it contains both dark and explicit content

✧ @merakiui ― mera's ingenuity always blows my mind. the way she places little hidden tidbits of information within her works has me scanning every line like a detective (and i adore mysteries!) she has a certain kind of poetic prose that draws me in and wraps itself around my brain.

personal picks : being general lilia's spoil of war (oh to be pitied and protected by the great general himself...) , professor ashengrotto (mmm...a gross misuse of power paired with favoritism always tastes divine) , cat's cradle with childe (reader playing games they can't win... it always seems like a good idea, until its not), hatefully yours with scaramouche (unfortunately reader will always going to be fucked no matter what option they choose) , kaeya and childe as a double yandere team (said it before and i'll say it again, if these two were to actually put everything aside and work together, well, all i can say is good luck), and diluc and kaeya as roommates (also a crazy team and since they're both super volatile, there will likely be some pretty nasty insults flung around on a daily basis)

✧ @mirdance ― kay is just such a joy to be around. their sense of humor and chill vibes always make me feel at ease, and the jokes they make normally have me wheezing with laughter! not to mention their cosplays are top notch! they really put so much of themselves into their works and it shows! each of their pieces have so much soul to them, and i love it!

personal picks : inamorati with pierro (tools need to be used often to be kept sharp, and the way pierro uses reader for his own machinations is just spot on) , heizou first kiss (so cute! i wanna squish his cheeks) , kaeya first kiss prompt (power move: sleep with your crush's crush to see if they're better than you (spoiler: they're not)) , dottore somnophilia (real quick, do you think he'd fuck reader on a bloody experimentation table to torment them once they woke up?) , and all for her majesty with the tsaritsa (on my knees for you, my queen of ice)

✧ @monstrouslyobsessed ― momster is an amazing writer and artist whose works mainly feature supernatural entities. their dedication to their works and the level of detail they put into each piece really makes their works shine! i love them so much and always enjoy seeing new excerpts from their works!

personal picks : his sacrificial lamb (please bite me sir... i am begging...) , i’m your god now (poor reader being passed from god to demon...) , like a moth to the flame (yes... i love it... brb taking notes on how to write because this is so good), yuki onna headcanons (i adore how cunning oyuki is! reminds me of the fact that most people don't realize they have frostbite until it's too late), a holy knight, defiled (all dragons are welcomed with open arms here) , mother’s vessel with jenova (the slice with sephiroth is perfectly timed, and jenova's desperation for freedom is almost pitiful...almost.) , poor unfortunate soul (move over ursula its time for the real witch of the sea!) , and vile affection (do the divine do what's best for the people they're supposed to protect? or do they do what's best for them?)

if you would like to be removed from this list, please let me know!

#🏛️ — prized collection #recommendation library #author recommendations #work recommendations

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no1frogfan · 1 year

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Picking Iwaizumi up from the airport

Picking the Haikyuu boys up from the airport - Iwaizumi Hajime

Word count: ~500 Some sexually suggestive language, GN reader

Note: Does anyone else get super horny after flights? No? Only me? >> Another Haikyuu boy airport scenario, this time with my fave beefcake

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

Your boyfriend looks like he’s ready to murder someone. His fists are clenched, muscles rippling beneath his tracksuit as he stomps out of the terminal. You laugh to yourself. Hajime has the worst luck on flights. He’s always trapped near a crying baby, or next to someone wearing really strong perfume, or getting his knees crushed by the person reclining in front of him, or something. His normally calm features are wrenched into a deep scowl. If this were a scene in a film, you imagine there would be legions of screaming people fleeing before him as he tramples through the city. It wasn’t far from reality, actually, as you watch folks scurry out of his path.

“Iwa!” You rush toward him, waving. “Hajime!”

Iwaizumi’s head whips around. His furious expression melts into a tired smile when he catches sight of you. He adjusts his duffel bag with one hand and holds out his other arm as you run into his embrace.

“Missed you,” you croon in his ear as he effortlessly picks you up and spins you around. You turn to kiss his jaw before burying your face in his shoulder.

“Missed you too, baby,” he mumbles, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. “The flight sucked.”

“Unlucky again, huh?” You giggle as you step back.

“You don’t even know the half of it!” He laments. You laugh and interlace your fingers with his as you lead him to the car, listening sympathetically while he complains about his trip back from California.

“That sounds like a nightmare. Sorry babe,” you say soothingly when you arrive at your parking spot.

Iwaizumi heaves an exhausted sigh as he haphazardly tosses his bag into the trunk. “It wouldn’t have been so bad if you’d come with me. I hate being away from you for so long.”

“I know babe, me too. Why don’t we have a date night tonight?” You suggest, hoping to cheer him up. “We can get takeout from that place with the really good agedashi tofu and watch whatever you want. I’ll even watch volleyball and not complain about it.”

He steps behind you as you close the trunk and wraps his sturdy arms around your waist. “Mmm… That sounds almost perfect,” he murmurs in your ear, “but I think I’m going to need a special appetizer first, and extra dessert too.” He pulls you against his chest and his warmth seeps into your back. You lean into him, head lolling back to rest against his shoulder. He trails his lips along the base of your neck, drawing out a soft moan.

“Hajime! Wait until we get home,” you scold breathlessly. He grumbles, reluctantly letting go and getting into the car.

He gives you a pointed look as you slip into the driver’s seat. “You’d better step on it then.” His voice is hoarse and demanding. “I’ll pay for the speeding ticket.” A shiver of anticipation runs up your spine as you start the engine.

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #froggy scribbles

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plothooksinc · 5 months

Note

Assuming you don't have an excess of NRFTW prompts already, mayhaps a missing scene of Mikey confronting Leo about that "Don't kill yourself for a corpse" line? Because I just *know* he had a lot of feelings about that, diversion or no. 👀👀

Me: That should be pretty straightforward Me: ...only now I want to address some other stuff, so-- /17 pages later

The Jupiter Jim figurines that April had put on the bedside stand were gone, replaced by a tray of Mikey’s paints, and Draxum’s (lab? Secret lair? He insisted it wasn’t a castle--) place was dead silent.

They were moving today. Donnie had declared their new residence-to-be hygienically and structurally sound enough to begin the shift over, but Leo was still benched. And Mikey was also benched—unfairly, as far as he was concerned, but Draxum had pushed for him to stay out of the heavy lifting.

(“There’s being able to lift a pound or two, and there’s being able to shift furniture and boxes. It’s a world of difference,” the old goat had said patiently. “Yes, you’re doing much better, but don’t try your luck.”

“But I can use my chains, they won’t weigh—”

“Ahhh, yes. Your chains. With your mystic energy. And what have we said about using your mystic energy?”)

Donnie had told him outright to be thankful he had an excuse to sit this out. But it was Raph who mollified him by pointing out that leaving Leo here entirely on his own probably wouldn’t be the greatest of ideas. Both because he was still hurt and might need help, would be feeling kind of useless and in need of morale—and because a lonely and bored Leo was often a dumb Leo, and if he would listen to anyone and just stay put, it was gonna be Mikey.

And fair. Sometimes Leo definitely required a Delicate Touch.

Today, he’d apply one of a different kind.

Leo’s shell was a mess of fibreglass patches and newly sealed cracks still fragile in some places—Donnie had come up with a thin protective cover for the bulk of them, but the whole look wasn’t pretty and his brother was self-conscious about it. Not that he’d said as much, but the fact that he pulled the blanket right up over it even when it was warm spoke volumes.

Also, Mikey’s fingers itched every time he looked at it. He wanted to make it look awesome. Hence--

“Give me some suggestions?” Leo said. “You’re the artist.”

“Could do a cool dragon?”

“Mmm. Yeah.”

Well, that was noncommittal. He thought Leo would like a dragon. Mikey frowned. “You know I’ll paint whatever you want. I don’t care what it is.”

Leo chuckled. “Well, that’s way open to abuse.”

“I’m serious!”

“Hmm.”

And he was quiet again. This time, Mikey frowned at him. Was it time for morale boosts already? It seemed a bit early--

“Hey.”

“Mmm, yeah, I’m thinking.”

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinking abooout… how I can abuse your mad painting skills?”

“Leo.”

“Seriously, what if I got you to draw, like, a terrible cartoon of Barry falling off a roof or something.”

“...really?”

“You did say anything.”

Mikey narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “I mean sure, if that’s what you really want.” Though it was such a cheap shot he didn’t think Leo even tried with that one; it felt more like misdirection. “Didn’t know you were so obsessed with him you wanted a reminder painted on you, but—”

“Oh pizza supreme, ew.” Leo shuddered, mashing his face into the pillow. “When you put it like that—”

“So what are you thinking about?”

“Rude.”

“Answer the question, Leon.”

“Ruder. No privacy. Maybe I’m thinking that I miss pizza.”

“You get some tomorrow.”

“What about now?” he whined.

“Leo?”

“Miguel.”

“Do you not want me to paint your shell?” Leo hesitated, and Mikey squinted at him. “We don’t have to.”

“...it’s not that,” Leo muttered, muffled by the pillow. “I do, but…”

Time to pull out the big guns. He flopped onto the bed next to him, offering his best puppy eyes and trembling lip when Leo shifted to face him. “Do you think I’ll do a bad job?”

“What?” Leo pulled back a little, looking panicked. “Of course not! You’re amazing, I just—”

Mikey grinned at him cheerfully. And then stuck his tongue out for good measure.

“—who taught you how to weaponise that, seriously.”

“You did.”

Leo swallowed a laugh. “Okay, okay. Fine. Give me your hand.”

“Huh?”

His brother held out a hand, beckoning, and Mikey obliged him by taking it. Leo instantly turned his hand over, pushing gently along the joints. “That hurt?”

...oh. That’s what was going on. It said a lot that Mikey hadn’t even thought about injury stress; his arms had been behaving themselves for days now. It was possible, he guessed.

On the other hand, he hadn’t painted in weeks. He missed it. And he wanted Leo to like his shell. So he pulled back, deliberately shaking his hands out and wiggling his fingers, smiling wryly as Leo winced. “Promise I’m good. In more ways than one, baby!”

“Yeah, but what if it starts hurting halfway through?” Leo made a face. “Then I’ll be stuck with half a dragon or something and probably, like, the lamer part. There’ll be a dragon’s ass on my shell and everyone’ll make fun of me.”

Mikey sighed, seeing the whining for the thinly disguised concern it was. It was touching, but he could feel the annoyance starting to bubble up. Of all of them, Leo was the one that generally didn’t baby him. He managed a smile. “We do that already.”

“Shh, let me live in denial. Anywhizzle--”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t ready,” he said, sharper than he intended. (Probably because that wasn’t entirely true—okay, he hadn’t given any thought to it before this, but after reflection, he was pretty sure--)

“You sure about that?”

Leo said it...lightly. For the most part.

Maybe Mikey just imagined the strain underneath, or maybe it was because he was already riled, but the doubtful look on his brother’s face made him bristle defensively. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What?” Leo paused. “Nothing, I’m just kidding around.”

“You sure about that?”

And this time Leo frowned at Mikey’s mocking tone and shifted gingerly to face him more directly, hugging a pillow to his chest. “Whoa, okay, I honestly didn’t mean anything by it, I’m just… making sure.”

“Why?”

“...you seriously have to ask?”

“Yeah, actually,” Mikey said flatly, fingers tapping a rhythm on the protective sheet. He just wanted to paint. “I’m more than okay. I’m fine, Leo.”

“Annnd you’ve said that before.”

“I—” He paused.

(“Fine! Just fine. You?”

“Fine. Just fine.”)

Again, oh.

(“You’re both liars and I don’t see why you bother.”)

Mikey let a breath out. Sure, okay. He still felt tetchy about this, but Leo had a point. But it took two to have that conversation, and if they were gonna talk about recklessness--

--and oh, for the third time. He got it now, why he was so hair-trigger irritated. There was a ninja damned elephant in the room.

One thing at a time.

“It’s just painting,” Mikey said finally, voice even. “It’s not like I’m using any kind of mystic mojo and I can stop any time it starts to hurt. I can paint something that can be done in pieces, no dragon asses necessary.”

Leo blinked at him, and then mustered up a lopsided smile. “I dunno. What if dragon asses are my thing?”

He could take that offer for what it was; Leo attempting to walk their conversation back from an edge. For a moment, Mikey was tempted. He just wanted to do something nice for his brother and artistic and prove he could still--

Still paint. He could. He had no trouble at dinner, no trouble lugging Dad’s casserole, and now Leo was making him second guess himself when Leo was absolutely the biggest hypocrite in the room for this kinda thing.

“...Angelo?”

And man, now his brother wouldn’t even let him second guess himself in peace! Rude. He leaned forward to rummage through his paints, voice flat. “What.”

“...hey.” Hesitant and soft. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, like, belittle you, that’s not what this is about.”

“That’s a big word for you.” As soon as he said it—heard the snap of his words leave his mouth—Mikey cringed. Especially as Leo stilled on the bed, then sank down into the pillows again, face blank. Okay, he didn’t deserve that. If Mikey didn’t want to be babied, he shouldn’t be a brat.

So he gave an overly long, dramatic Mermista-style groan and flopped back down on his back next to his brother. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m just… I’m frustrated. It’s been a while. And you were the last person I expected this from!”

“I get it,” Leo said quietly. “You got stuck here on babysitting duty, you’re already feeling left out.”

“That’s not it. Well, not all of it.” He hesitated, stretching his hands up to link behind his head, voice innocent. “Um… I was so caught up in the euphoria of being able to paint your shell that for a minute I lived in a world where mystic backlash didn’t exist…?”

There was a long moment of silence.

And then Mikey grinned a little as Leo raised his head to glare at him. “You did not just apple juice meme at me.”

“I sure did, Leon. Whatcha gonna do about it?”

“Ask you nicely to brain yourself with a pillow,” Leo said grumpily. “I’m keeping count, you know.”

“Oh, I bet.”

They lay there in companionable silence.

“I was looking forward to it, too.” Leo said after a while. “I mean, I even let you put the sheet down. It’s only after that we—look, we both forgot, okay? And then I panicked, because I’m not meant to forget that kind of thing. What if you get hurt because I encouraged you?”

“Hmm.” Okay, that was a fair, kind of dumb but standard Leo reaction. “I kind of get it, except for the part where you’re not responsible for my life choices.”

“Yeah, but I’m enabling them. Raph would—”

“Raph would get exasperated at me for pulling a dumb stunt! This isn’t like… being out fighting bad guys and for some reason your plan means I have to hurt myself painting.”

“Close enough,” Leo said, barely audible.

Mikey shifted up onto his elbows, looking at him in disbelief. “I’m sorry, what? Did I hear that correctly?”

“Mmf.” Leo dropped his face back into the pillow. “Sorry. Forget it, I’m just—”

“Oh no, we are not forgetting it, son.” Mikey sat back up again, folding his arms like a disapproving parent. “Seriously? Are we doing this now?”

“Can we go back to the part where you were going to paint, like, something easy and—”

“Hell no. Leo.” Mikey poked him in the shoulder-- the good one, because he wasn’t a complete jerk. “I don’t remember any point where you had a say in my portal choices. Oh, wait! Yes I do! And your say was dumb and I ignored it—”

Leo blinked at him, baffled. “You-- what? I never—”

“Aha!” Mikey pointed at him triumphantly. “You can’t have it both ways. Either you’re responsible or you’re not, which is it?”

“No, I’m seriously lost,” Leo said blankly. “Putting aside the whole responsibility or feeling guilt or whatever, I get it, we’ll come back to that (maybehopefullynever) but when did you ignore me? I don’t remember saying anything to you about portals.”

For a moment, Mikey was just. Speechless. Because he could infer two things from that, and he hated both of them. One, that Leo had absolutely talked about his portals, just not with him. And two…

“You don’t remember,” he said, irritation shifting into genuine anger. His voice rose with every word. “The warehouse? That cheap action hero line you threw at me while you were hanging like so much netted roadkill? ‘Doesn’t ring a bell?’ Seriously!?”

Recognition dawned on Leo’s face, and he mouthed something silently—a sentence that he recognised because it had been on Mikey’s mind, on and off, that he’d muttered to himself in the bathroom sometimes, that he couldn’t decide whether it was a cool line or something Leo needed to be slapped for, and that he’d decided to maybe just try and let it go until Leo--

--did this. Forgot it.

Like it didn’t matter.

Don’t kill yourself for a corpse.

“Mikey,” Leo said faintly, and a helpless, placating smile twitched at the corners of his mouth for a moment before it faded under Mikey’s glare. “That was just stalling.”

“Was it?”

“Yes!” he snapped. “That wasn’t a-- I thought you knew! Do you really think I’d just encourage you to throw my life away when help was very clearly gonna be on the way?”

Annnd there it was. Because yeah, actually. Leo had put his finger on it precisely without meaning to, and Mikey surged up off the bed. “You’ve done it before, Leo! Once is maybe stalling, but this is a pattern, and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—”

“Don’t whoa whoa whoa me!” Mikey bared his teeth. And his next words were pitched high and dramatic, hand to forehead. “’Don’t kill yourself for a corpse!’ ‘Casey, when I get to the other side, close that door!’ Actually yeah, now that I think about it, if you hadn’t been such a dumbass, I—”

Oh.

Oh, shit, way too far. Leo flinched as if struck, but he stayed staring at Mikey, eyes dark and shoulders hunched. Making himself small like he deserved it, when Mikey had been trying to point out his arms weren’t his responsibility. Good job, going the exact opposite direction.

“...fuck,” he whispered.

In a perfect world, Leo would blackmail him with threats to tell Raph about his swearing at this point. But his big brother said nothing, watching him in deathly silence.

Mikey covered his face. He was angry. He’d crossed a line. And for a long, yawning moment, he held still, hoping Leo would—snap back at him, or shove him off the bed, or be just as much a jerk back, like he’d been with Raph before the invasion, or that time at the pizzeria, or--

It was so quiet.

Oh, pizza supreme. “Leo,” he said, muffled into his hands. “I’m--”

Leo laughed, and Mikey snapped his head up in mix of confusion and dread, because that was not the correct response. But Leo’s giggling was brittle, and while he was lounging on the pillows like he was so entertained, he was staring past Mikey like he wasn’t there. Something curdled in his gut. “Leo…?”

“You can’t have it both ways, mi hermano,” Leo said, and his tone was so absolutely curated smartass that Mikey cringed. “Either I’m responsible or I’m not, which is it?”

“Don’t,” Mikey said tightly, “Throw my words back at me.”

“Why not? Seems to be a common thing today.”

“You know it’s not what I meant!”

“Seems we got a lot of that going around, too.”

Leo’s humour faded—what there was of it—and now he just looked tired. He shifted awkwardly onto his side to face away from Mikey. “Sorry,” he muttered. “You’re gonna have to tell Raph you weren’t the best choice for the whole morale thing. He’ll understand.”

Words chosen to hurt. They lost their bite when delivered so expressionlessly, and Mikey swallowed against a stupid, stupid desire to cry, because now he was angry and frustrated and guilty and a little heartbroken, and dammit, this was so important, he couldn’t let it slide, but he…

...kinda got why Raph and Leo were at each other’s throats all the time.

He wasn’t going to be the same.

“I have three doctorates,” he muttered.

And waited. For Leo to snort, to cut him down and say sure, and I have a medical degree. With stickers. Which makes it better than yours.

But Leo said nothing. After a moment, he hitched the blanket up to wrap over his shell again, and that felt more like a dismissal than anything else.

Mikey curled his hands into fists. Clenched them hard, just because he could. Because it didn’t hurt anymore, not like before. “I have three doctorates,” he repeated flatly, “And I probably should be taking my own advice, huh. You want more words thrown back at you? I’m not yelling at you because I’m mad. I’m—I’m freaking terrified, Leo! Because you nearly died like three times in the last couple weeks, and two of those times you just kind of… leaned right into it, and I don’t—don’t want there to be a fourth time—”

“You think I do?”

Leo’s response was barely audible, but his head had tilted back just enough for Mikey to know he was paying attention. And man, it was getting harder not to just burst into tears, but then Leo would probably either have to shift into comfort mode (and everything would get derailed) or he’d ignore Mikey entirely and that would feel worse. He compromised by flopping back onto the bed, curling up against Leo’s blankets, and found his voice again. He’d say what he had to say first.

“I don’t know,” he said softly. “That’s why, okay? I just—you just seem to keep going for the option that gets you dead lately. You can’t do that to us.”

“I mean, apparently I can,” Leo murmured bitterly. “Seeing as I’ve done it twice.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “That’s not funny.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“...I don’t know what I want you to say, either.” Nothing felt right.

“Okay, here’s a start,” Leo said flatly. “If you think I’m trying to throw my life away—”

“No!”

“If you don’t think that, what exactly are you accusing me of?”

“I’m not! I’m—” His voice cracked, and Mikey bit off another curse under his breath. And then went fuck it and vanished into the cool dark of his shell, so he wouldn’t have to stare at Leo’s back any more. So Leo wouldn’t turn and catch his tears that were falling without his permission because he cried at the drop of a hat and--

“I’m just scared.”

There was a pause, and a creak of the bed. And a long silence.

Mikey sniffled as quietly as he could.

Another creak.

Then Leo’s voice sounded closer, a little more gentle.

“I had a nightmare about you.”

He blinked. That wasn’t what he expected.

“Uh-- I kind of know?” He remembered the details vividly enough-- the warehouse, Sister Krang snapping his neck, way awful. But this was after the warehouse, so--

“Raph told you?” Leo said in confusion. “I mean, I never gave him the details...”

--that wasn’t right. Mikey peered out from his shell to see Leo peering back, and his brother gave him a tiny smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was encouraging. “No, I, um… remember how we mind melded at the warehouse? It kind of stuck around during all your fever dreams.”

“Oh.” Leo frowned. “I don’t really remember those.”

“Good,” Mikey said fervently. “Don’t. They’re awful.”

“Heh. Sorry.”

“Not your fault.” He sank back into his shell, but he felt a little better. Leo wasn’t being so cold. He hated it when Leo was cold. “So this was another dream…?”

“...yeah. It was a while ago, right after you showed me your arms that first time. Before… Raph.”

Oh, right. Before everything went to hell. (Again. Hah.)

“I dreamt about you opening the portal,” Leo went on quietly, “And you were trying to save me, and you kind of… just broke apart. Shattered to pieces. And I had to watch that, and the portal closed, and I-- I was stuck and you were—”

Oh.

(If he had a nickel for every time he’d thought oh in the last ten minutes--)

“I didn’t want to be there, Mikey. I promise, I really, really enjoy, you know, being alive. I love you guys! I’m not secretly harbouring a death wish, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was a lot quieter.

“But that terror—it goes both ways, you know?”

He felt Leo lay hands on his shell and try to lift him into a hug.

Which was… very sweet until reality kicked in and he popped back out in alarm just in time to see his big brother go pale.

“Oh my god, Leo!” He scrambled out fully, wiping at his face before he helped Leo settle back, and he couldn’t help the faintly hysterical giggle. “You really are a dumbass.”

“...I did it on purpose to get you to come out…?” Leo’s voice was wheezy, and he gave Mikey a watery smile.

“Liar.”

“Okay, you got me.” He wilted against the pillows. “But not about the important stuff, okay?”

“Idiot,” Mikey muttered without heat. He patted at Leo’s shoulder. “Need meds?”

“...nah. It’s actually not too bad, I just need a minute.”

“Okay.” He paused. Argument maybe averted, but… he wasn’t done. He could just do this a little less meanly. Especially if Leo was willing to talk to him.

“I do believe you,” he said after a moment, because that was important.

“Okay, good.”

“So… you did the whole heroic cool death wish line because you were scared I was gonna get hurt?”

Leo huffed in amusement, but his tiny smile faded. “Mostly, yeah. I was trying to buy you time. And my first attempt just got you hurt more, so… I went the rage route.”

Oh yeah. Leo asking for permission to treat his wounds. That had gone poorly, to say the least. Mikey smiled weakly. “Well, you picked a winner. I got so mad at you.” He still was, but it felt a little better, to pick at this.

“Yeah, well, the Bubblegum Bitch ran on murder and spite. I figured she’d love to see us screaming at each other. And…”

He hesitated.

“And?” Mikey prompted.

Leo closed his eyes. “I didn’t think I could handle watching you open a portal to... that place. Not with the damage it did the first time. Not ever again because of me. I’m not the only one who nearly died here, y’know.”

Mikey frowned. “I didn’t—”

“Don’t try that with me, Mikey.”

He shut his mouth with a snap. Took a deep breath, because he wasn’t going to yell again, and this was… a softer kind of hurt. He got it. He was starting to get Leo. So he had to continue.

“You think I could handle watching you die because I didn’t open one?” He was proud of how even his voice was. Hah. The doctor was back in session. “You said it yourself, terror goes both ways. Stalling can only go so far. By definition!”

“Okay, at this point we’re gonna end up going in circles,” Leo said dryly. “They’re both valid points, okay? But if you can understand why you risked your life in there, can you get why I’d do the same?”

“...because we’re both idiots?” he muttered.

Leo snorted a faint laugh. And Mikey finally grinned at him, before sobering. Because…

“What about before?”

Leo’s face shuttered blank so fast he almost regretted asking.

Almost.

Especially as the look broke a moment later under a lazy smile, which set his teeth on edge. “You’re gonna have to narrow it down a bit, little bro.”

Okay. If he was gonna be like that.

“Mhm, mm-hmm.” Mikey nodded, shifting enough to sit cross-legged on the bed, and pretended to write into a notebook. “Patient very sensitive on this subject, a little too late on deflecting comment and accompanying I am full of shit smile…”

“Oh, for-- you can’t doctor me, you don’t have your stupid doctor glasses.”

“Patient deflecting more… by making… immersion-breaking jokes—” He broke off and mimed looking over a pair of imaginary glasses at Leo and grinned cheekily through the churning in his gut. Two could play at this game. “All our stuff is packed. You’re gonna have to pretend, bro.”

“I don’t want to,” Leo said flatly, smile gone. “I’m not in the mood for imaginary doctors today. Can’t you just be Mikey?”

“I don’t know, can I?” Mikey retorted, voice still even. Never mind he probably still had drying tear tracks on his face. “Because apparently you can’t talk to Mikey.”

“I can talk to you just fine!”

“Without babying me.”

“I’m not—”

“Or lying. You know exactly what ‘before’ I’m talking about! I mean, how often do you throw yourself through one way portals, anyway?”

“As Dee would say, approximately never, because I can honestly say I’ve never thrown myself through a one way portal in my—”

Mikey slammed his hand down on the bedside stand so hard his paint bottles shook, two of them outright teetering and falling off the edge. Leo flinched back, sentence unfinished, his expression frozen somewhere between jackass and terrified.

“Really?” he hissed. “You’re gonna deflect now by splitting hairs?”

Leo blinked, mouth still hanging open for a moment before he collected himself. “Very professional observation,” he said faintly, voice shaking. “You should write that down in your imaginary notebook! Also, I’m pretty sure therapists aren’t meant to terrify their patients. You could lose your imaginary license and then where would we be?”

Mikey stared at him, face dark and arms folded. “And now you’re deflecting by pissing me off.”

Leo held his stare for maybe three seconds before he broke and rolled away—gingerly, clearly painfully—to face the wall again. “’m sorry. I really just wanna… I don’t know. Get my shell painted. Can we talk about this some other day?”

Mikey sucked in a breath, loudly and obnoxiously, because he wanted Leo to know he was angry. Then he rolled to collect the bottles that had fallen to the floor. The red one hadn’t been closed properly and he winced at the flecks on Draxum’s carpet. Maybe they could claim it was blood. He’d probably be less outraged, all things considered.

He knew as well as Leo there would be no other day. If this didn’t get talked about now, he’d be looking forward to Leo making sure they weren’t in the same room alone together for weeks. He was angry enough he wondered spitefully for a moment if he should beat him to it and ignore his lying ass like a--

...like a wound up little brother who was easily riled by someone who knew exactly which buttons to press. Sure, Leo would feel like shit about it, but Leo would also be relieved. Dodged that therapist bullet, right? Enough time would pass it would be too hard to bring up again.

Until the next time he pulled this stunt. (Leo wasn’t a cat, he didn’t have nine freaking lives--)

“Was there really no other way?” he asked bluntly.

Leo hunched in on himself with a faint hiss, and Mikey sat there behind him, his arms full of paint, and wondered how far to push. He wanted to know. Leo had said there was no death wish, and Mikey believed him about his reasoning in the warehouse. If it wasn’t for how Leo shut him down immediately when he asked more directly, he’d have let this go. There was something he was missing.

He had to push the right way, though. Demanding answers from a traumatised person was, okay, maybe not the best strategy? And Leo was absolutely traumatised, no matter how many shit eating grins he’d thrown over the last few weeks while being half dead. (And then half dead again.) He’d come back out of Mikey’s portal a complete mess and hadn’t talked about it since. Krang Prime had been terrifying before his only target had been his brother.

And Leo had deliberately locked himself in with a murderous alien because…

Hero moves are totally your style.

...because that’s what heroes do?

Bullshit.

“How’s your hand?”

Leo’s question took him by surprise—and hurt besides, with how colourless his tone was. Mikey frowned at him before he looked down at his hands, and—right. Probably losing his temper and hitting furniture wasn’t very, uh, wise. But he flexed his fingers, answering in a subdued voice. “Fine.”

...he had an idea. Take a page out of Leo’s book, lure him in with less threatening subjects. Mikey paused, biting his lip, knowing this could also backfire-- but if it did, it would be less devastating than the direct route. He could try again later.

So he sighed. “And… fine. I’ll let it go.”

“For now, huh.”

“...forever, if you need me to. I just—wanted to understand,” he said, turning away to start stacking the paint bottles neatly on the dresser again. “I know we weren’t there to help, and I’m sorry—”

“Do not apologise for that,” Leo cut in sharply. “You got slammed into free fall and nearly died. What kind of jerk do you think I am?”

“But Raph had to come after us and you were alone.” And that hurt to remember. His hands trembled. “And then you didn’t even warn us. You didn’t even say goodbye. You just jumped straight to—”

“There wasn’t time for anything else,” Leo whispered. “At least, I didn’t think there was. Okay?”

--that was progress. Mikey leaned forward eagerly, ready to push for more detail-- and then hesitated. He’d just said he would let it go.

So he made himself shut up and sit there quietly, hands in his lap, fingers curled inward so he didn’t fidget.

And waited.

“...Yeah, I keep thinking now about other stuff I might have been able to do,” Leo said finally. “And like, it’s all maybes and what ifs and maybe none of it would have worked and maybe some of it would have, but there wasn’t any time, and I’m not-- I mean, it’s easy to come up with stuff after. I still don’t know if I could have made a better choice. Okay? I just did… I did what I had to. It wasn’t some grand gesture or, like, ‘oh no, this is all my fault, I’ll throw my life away to fix it,’ it was-- we’d never get another chance, and I couldn’t live with what would happen if we lost.”

…

Right, so there was a lot to unpack there.

“You think the invasion is your fault?” he asked cautiously.

“Not… really,” Leo said, and Mikey wished he’d turn around again so he could see his brother’s face. “Like, you know, I get it. The Foot and the Krang are more to blame for this than me, but I was stupid. So there’s fault, and then there’s responsibility. If I hadn’t messed around and lost the key, maybe it wouldn’t have gotten this far. But I guess I don’t know that for sure?”

That sounded very much like someone had already had a go at him about this. His money would be on Donnie. What Mikey wanted to know, though, was whether Leo really meant it or whether he was just rattling off someone else’s argument.

“You also got the key back,” he pointed out, and Leo snorted.

“Yeah,” he said flatly. “At Raph’s expense.”

Mikey winced-- okay yeah, wrong tack to take. There was a lot he could say there about the fact that Raph was also capable of making his own choices, and he already knew Raph would prefer the whole temporary possession and scarred eye and shell over a dead brother. Just as he knew he would never, ever convince Leo of that, because they were all the same in that regard. It was hard, watching someone get hurt trying to protect you.

So hard. Mikey knew.

“Did you…” He paused, swallowed. Curled up on the bed itself, his shell to Leo’s, knees up to his chest. Maybe this was easier. “Did you think you had to make up for it? Is that why?”

He wasn’t sure if Leo’s soft huff of amusement was a good or a bad sign. “I already said. No death wishes.” His tone was more gentle than cutting, so that was hopeful. “Not on the alien ship, not in the warehouse. Just let it go.”

That wasn’t actually an answer to the question. Guilt could make you do so much stupid shit, and Leo still wanted him to drop it, which means there was more to this--

I couldn’t live with what would happen if we lost.

Mikey blinked.

“I need an oh jar,” he muttered.

“...yeah, because that makes sense.”

“Leo,” Mikey said evenly. “What did Casey say to you?”

There was a brief silence, and then Leo responded with genuine confusion. “Okay, that one you really are gonna have to narrow down—”

“About the future he came from.”

And from the way he heard Leo’s breath stutter to a halt, Mikey had his answer.

---------

He waited. Long enough to hear Leo unfreeze, breathing slow with just the faintest hint of shakiness. Long enough that he finally evened out, and Mikey kept still while he did it, not even touching him, back to back. He wanted to-- wanted to kind of turn and latch onto Leo and hug him, but from this angle he’d end up hurting a whole lot more than he’d help, so… in the end, he just gave him space.

Somewhere down the hall, one of Draxum’s clocks chimed.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Dumb question.”

“Hmm. Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that one. Will you please talk about it?”

“What’s the point?” Leo was barely audible. “It’s over now, not gonna happen. We just need to look after the one person it did happen for.”

“I think Casey’d disagree.”

“Casey has enough on his plate.”

“Well, he’s not here right now anyway. If there’s no point, why don’t you tell me?”

“Already covered that I don’t want to.”

The thing is, just by not telling him, Leo had basically confirmed for Mikey some pretty obvious key factors. This time he deliberately quashed the irritation at the thought of being babied. He got it. He did.

“So,” he said slowly, eventually, “I’m gonna assume you’re trying to protect me. Or us. From horrible, terrible, no good, bad future knowledge. Am I right?”

Leo’s silence was confirmation enough.

Mikey took a deep breath. Okay. He had it now. He hoped. (He also didn’t hope, because it was so bleak, but--)

“You know,” he said quietly, voice deliberately oh so casual, “When someone, like, drops in from some futuuure timeline—add reverb—to change the course of history, it kinda means that whichever future he came from is a lost cause. That much is obvious, you know?”

Silence.

Mikey sat up, glancing down at the huddle that was his brother.

“I know Donnie dies,” he said, and watched Leo flinch. He knew how Donnie died. That part, he would leave out just in case. “Raph woulda died before all of us. April—”

He stopped. The point was made and he was being cruel enough already. “I know I was still there at the end. So were you. Because we were the ones who sent him here.”

“Yeah,” Leo said quietly. “You opened a portal through time. Pretty amazing, bro.”

He smiled at that, a little sadly. “I know, right?”

“Be more amazing if you’d survived doing it.”

He’d figured as much, but hearing it still sent a sliver of nausea through him. And if Leo had known that much, the nightmares about Mikey shattering would just have been icing on the cake. And--

And--

“Everyone died,” he said, eyes wide. “Everyone. Except you.”

The way Leo tried to curl into himself at that could not be healthy for his injuries. This time Mikey did reach out, both hands patting at his brother’s shoulder tentatively before he latched on, trying to discourage the pretzeling. “Lee—”

“I know.”

“It didn’t happen!”

“I know!” Leo snapped. “Because I made sure it couldn’t!”

Mikey let go-- half startled by the outburst, half taken by surprise when Leo threw him off, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Also not a good idea because Leo had barely managed standing earlier, so what the hell he thought he was doing-- but apparently he was content to sit on the edge of the mattress, using his good arm to keep himself propped up, his entire body curled away from his little brother.

Well. Too bad. Mikey crawled over the bed to sit next to him. And when Leo didn’t move away again, he huffed and wormed his way under that arm, offering a better support. Leo was rigid against him, but he didn’t flinch or try to push him away, so.

Win. Such as it was.

“I get it,” Mikey whispered.

“I didn’t want you to.”

“Yeah… I don’t get that part.”

“Because it’s—” Leo broke off, darting a look at him before he turned away. “It’s all I could think of. I made a big speech about how we could change the future after all, and then when you guys got knocked down, all I could think was that we’d tried so hard, and we still lost, and—and I thought-- I wasn’t thinking. I mean I was, but it was stupid and—”

He hadn’t heard Leo stammer around the point like this in a long time, and Mikey tipped his head against his shoulder, wrapping his arms around Leo’s. “s’not stupid, bro. Like—it’s a high stress situation, y’know? D’you think me or Donnie or Raph were coming up with super logical plans while we were raining into Staten Island? You know how that place drains your smarts away.”

That got a laugh out of Leo, at least, a half hiccupped one, and he shifted a little closer. He didn’t relax; Mikey could feel the tension practically vibrating through him, and he knew what was coming. He could probably cut to the chase now and sum it up for Leo in points so he didn’t have to.

He waited. It was better that way.

“I just...didn’t.” Leo said finally. “Didn’t—want to go through that. You know, I wasn’t being heroic or a martyr or whatever, I was being a coward, okay? Because Casey told me everyone died in the future—everyone—and I thought: if we lose here, I’m gonna have to live that future. You know, twenty years in a war we’re gonna lose so slowly, watching everyone die one by one until I’m the only one left, and I was terrified and I can’t—I can’t, Mikey, if it’s a choice between me and literally everyone else, you can’t ask me to watch everyone die—”

And his voice cracked and Leo shut up, and Mikey carefully shuffled up onto his knees and curled his arms around his brother’s neck and held on. Leo planted his face in the crook of Mikey’s neck, shoulders trembling.

But when he spoke, his voice was small, but very dry. “This is gonna be real painful in about thirty seconds, just warning—”

“Then shut the hell up and get back on the bed, idiot.”

Leo sniffled, voice even tinier. “Yes, Dr Therapist, sir.”

“Good boy.”

“Don’t tell the others?”

“Doctor patient confidentiality.”

“’kay. Good.”

Leo turned away, shuffling back onto the bed to collapse onto the pillows. Mikey hovered, not really sure what to do next. Did he leave him alone? Give him space? He’d normally just drape himself on Leo’s shell, but that wasn’t exactly a good idea, so--

The question was answered for him when Leo waved a hand in his general direction, looking for a limb to grab, and Mikey helpfully gave him an arm-- and was yanked down beside his brother who curled around him like he was a teddy bear, hiding his face again. Mikey wheezed, a faint mix of relief and amusement. “Oh, okay, it’s gonna be like this—”

“Shh,” Leo said, muffled and sodden-sounding. “Therapy’s over.”

The face against his neck was wet. Mikey held still for a moment, swallowing against his own tears, and then gave a small sigh, putting a hand on Leo’s head.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I guess it is.”

---------

They lay there for a while. Mikey was perfectly content to be used as a teddy bear and kept his mouth shut, letting Leo get it out of his system, running his thumb over the ridges of the blue mask as his brother shook apart so quietly. As if he were ashamed of letting go. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was crying on his little brother. Mikey supposed that was breaking some kind of sibling hierarchy or some shit. Whatever.

He hadn’t really meant for the afternoon to go this way—it was kind of the opposite of a morale boost—but if this was the weight that his brother had been carrying around, better to deal with it now. Especially when nobody else was around to overhear.

(...he wasn’t really sure the others shouldn’t know about this. But unless it became an issue, for now, he’d do as Leo asked.)

“You’re not a coward, you know,” he said, much later. He doubted it was hours. He’d only heard Barry’s clock once. But Leo had stopped his ninja stealth crying into the crook of Mikey’s neck, so it was time.

“Mmm, ‘kay.”

“Don’t mmm ’kay me.” Mikey poked him. “I’m serious. I mean, what do you think a hero’s motivations are, anyway? They’re not doing it for the sake of looking all fancy for the camera. Or if they are, they’re not really a hero. They’re like-- that guy from Megamind, what’shisface, the Nice Guy—”

“Hal Stewart.”

“Exactly. And they don’t run around thinking, like—” He let go of Leo for a moment to air quote, even though Leo hadn’t resurfaced, not really. “’Egads, what is the most noble thing I can do at this exact point in time?’ Real heroes aren’t like… comic book heroes.”

Leo huffed a little against him. “You’re lucky I’m emotionally vulnerable right now or I’d have to throw hands.”

Mikey grinned. There he was. “Better keep you emotionally vulnerable then.”

“A supervillain move if I ever heard one.”

“That’s me, baby! I’m so lucky I have all these moral brothers to guide me to the side of the light.”

“Plus Donnie.”

“Oh yeah, plus that guy. I guess.”

This time, the huff sounded more like a laugh. Mikey snuggled in closer, gave him a moment to relax, and then made his next point, as softly as he could.

“Why do you think Raph protected you?”

He felt the jolt go through Leo at that—felt a little guilty, it was kind of an ambush—but his brother was only rigid against him for a moment before relaxing again by degrees, and Mikey was relieved. Leo’s brain was online. And when Leo answered, he sounded more confused than upset.

“Because he’s a big brother? Because he saw me screw up and he didn’t want me getting hurt?”

“Mhm, mhm. Scared for you, right? Would rather take the fall than watch you get skewered?”

“...yeah.”

Oh, the guilt laden into that word. He couldn’t do much about that, except maybe push him and Raph together to talk it out at some point. “I see. So Raph’s a coward?”

“Wait, what?” Leo pulled back to stare at him in affront, eyes swollen and mask damp and not bothering to hide it in the least. “Raph’s the bravest one here, why would you—”

“My, my. Would you look at those double standards.” Mikey tsked at him, and waited for the penny to drop. And Leo was just as smart as Donnie, in his own way; it took him a bare second to frown and lean back, squinting at him, mouth half open like he was trying and failing to come up with an argument. “It’s not cowardly to protect the people you care about. It’s, like, the opposite. You did it in a really reckless way and yeah, maybe there was a better way, but if anyone tries to accuse you of cowardice, I’m gonna throw hands. That includes you, bee tee dubs.”

Leo blinked, and Mikey could practically see the calculation flashing across his expression. He wasn’t surprised when Leo all-out pouted at him. “Oh, I see how it is. Picking on an injured turtle when he’s down.”

Mikey gave him a flat look that said I know what you’re doing.

Leo’s pout turned into a sheepish smile. “Okay, okay,” he said. “I’ll keep any such thoughts of cowardice to myself then, wallow in them when your back is turned—”

Mikey swatted at him with a glare. “You won’t think them at all! Leonardo—” And paused as Leo’s smile sharpened into a grin, his reddened eyes bright with genuine humour. “Ohhh, someone’s feeling better! Good.” He smiled sweetly back, then pushed Leo’s face away from him with a hand. “But for serious, you might be kinda dumb sometimes, but you are like. The bravest coolest brother—”

“Mmm, I still think Raph is the bravest. I humbly accept coolest, though.”

“I’ll allow it.” He watched Leo another moment, then pulled away to scramble carefully over him for the bedside table, reasonably sure the crisis was over. “You still up to painting?”

There was a pause. Leo’s face screwed up hesitantly. “...you sure? I mean, not because of your hands, but—”

“We still got time.” He flipped a paintbrush up and deftly spun it between his fingers, giving Leo a pointed look. “And I hate not finishing an art piece once I start.”

“Have we started, though?” Leo said mildly. But he was already obediently shuffling back onto his stomach, propping the pillows up beneath his elbows.

“Therapy is art.”

“I’m not sure that’s correct.”

“I’m the one with the doctorates, shush now.”

“But you’re—”

“Uh-buh-buh-buh—” Mikey settled by Leo’s side, bonking his head gently with his brush. And time for one last ambush question. “Leo. If we’d still been up there with you at the end, do you think it might have gone differently?”

To his great relief, Leo didn’t even flinch at that one—he merely tilted his head, humming thoughtfully. Mikey gave him time, fishing through his bottles until he could find the right colours to make the mix he wanted.

If he was holding his breath a little, well… that wasn’t important. Turtles could hold their breath for a very long time.

“Hard to say,” Leo said softly. “But I’d like to think so. I mean, I could barely get him through the portal on my own. But the four of us definitely had him off balance for a while there, right? If we were all still up there… I mean. Let’s face it. We’re so much stronger together.”

Mikey sighed with relief. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Leo about the death wish thing, but hearing it summed up like that made him feel a lot better. Especially when Leo frowned and twisted to catch his eye. “You better not feel guilty about that part, by the way.”

“Guilty? Nah.” He did a little, but Mikey also knew they’d done their best. “Bad that you got left on your own, yeah. We’re a team! It was hard...you know.” He smiled a little weakly. “Not being up there with you.”

“It was hard watching you fall.” Leo relaxed, letting his head drop onto the pillows. “Don’t tell him, but I was so glad when Raph got on the line, even if he was mad at me. It meant you guys had all got down safely.”

“He wasn’t mad,” Mikey pointed out.

“...I know. Bad choice of words.” Leo took a breath, sighed it out, sounding sleepy. “Scared.”

“Scary day.”

“Tell me about it. Wait, on second thought, don’t.” Leo waved a hand at him, not looking up. “Better idea. Tell me what you’re gonna paint instead.”

Yeah, time to change subject. Mikey hummed thoughtfully at him, leaning down off the bed to collect his tray. “I’m thinking… flowers.”

“Flowers, huh.”

“Yeah.” He traced dark edges of Leo’s repaired shell with the very tip of his brush, watching his brother carefully to see if it bothered him. When Leo didn’t move, he shifted back to mix paints. “They’ll be great at masking the damage, and if I have to stop for any reason, it won’t look weird. I’m thinking, hmm… marigolds, petunias… what’s a good red flower that isn’t a rose…”

Was that too pointed a comment? Probably. He grinned, counting the seconds until Leo lifted his head again, shifting to squint at him with suspicion.

“...red, orange, and purple?”

“Yeah,” he said innocently. “Great colour combo, don’t you think?”

“I feel you’re trying to tell me something.”

“Of course I am, dummy.” Mikey smiled at him. The sweetest, most sunshine smile he had at his disposal. “It’s a reminder that we’ve always got your back, no matter what.”

Leo stared back at him with an expression that was—just for a moment, probably against his will—fragile.

Then he turned sharply back away to stare at the wall, giving a snort. “More like you’re always on my back, you mush-dispenser.”

Mikey bit back his laugh at that. Leo could have that one; let him save some face, just this once. “It’s not too late for a dragon’s ass, you know.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Barry could be riding on it!”

“Mikey—”

“And throwing you off it to your doom—”

“Oh my god, that’s low, you monster—”

“Actually I think it’s high, it wouldn’t be much of a doom otherwise, c’mon, Leo, keep up.”

“I’m gonna duct tape you inside your shell and play you like bongos for a week straight.”

“Looking forward to it! I’ll mark my calendar!” But Leo was shaking with laughter now. Mikey tapped the end of the brush on his shell in warning, and Leo obligingly tried to keep still, switching to a yawn instead. “I would never, don’t worry. Tired?”

“A little.”

“Then sleep. I’ll be here. I’ll wake you when it’s done.”

“...kay.” Leo snuggled into the pillows without arguing, and his next words were heavily muffled and more a tired mumble than anything else. “Lvvyou.”

Mikey paused. Then smiled a little, putting a hand on his shell for a moment. “Lvvyou too, bro.”

“Oh, shush.”

He cackled at that, but said nothing, listening to Leo’s breaths even out.

He knew Leo pretty well—enough to wonder how much Leo still hadn’t told him, diverting with jokes and sassy comments about wallowing in cowardice. But this was a start. And a relief. If nothing else, Leo had been genuine about his motivations, both at the warehouse and at the portal. Terror and love, nothing more, nothing less. Mikey flexed his hands out, testing them one last time, looking at the fading welts still criss-crossing up his arms.

He could relate.

#rottmnt #rottmnt fic #no rest for the weary #(adjacent)#nekotsuki #this fought me tooth and nail #and was initially longer until I ran screaming at it with a hacksaw #I hope it's okay <3

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blindmagdalena · 2 years

Text

Twice For Luck

Homelander x Reader | Follow-up to First Time's the Charm. Shameless PWP.

Notes: 18+ 2.5k fem/afab! reader (no y/n), virgin kink, cunnilingus. see ao3 link for detailed tags.

The next time Homelander has you in his bedroom, he’s playfully grilling you for your inexperience. “I just– I don’t get it,” he says, between kisses, walking backwards towards his bed, pulling you along with his gloved hands on your upper arms. “How does someone go decades just without givin’ at least a handy?”

Thoroughly flushed, you give his chest a meager shove, laughing. “Why are you so obsessed? You didn’t have any problems with my virginity while you were taking it,” you remind him, giving a soft little mmm when he swoops in for another hungry kiss, licking into your mouth. You knew he was worked up the second he’d brought the subject up, his bewilderment seemingly a cover for how aroused it makes him.

“Fuck,” he huffs against your lips, squeezing your arms very nearly to the point of discomfort before he abruptly softens his hold, as if remembering himself. He stops when the backs of his legs hit the bed. “Never even touched a cock before mine, huh?”

“No, never,” you say, pressing your hands to his chest. You swear it makes him growl. His hands move over you like he doesn’t know where to begin. He settles on cupping your ass with a firm squeeze over your skirt, easily lifting you up, hitching your legs around his waist before he sits down on the edge of the bed. You can already feel his hard cock straining against you through his suit.

Homelander draws back to look at you properly, his lips curled in a particularly devious smile. “You’re tellin’ me not a single Jack or Joe looked at you and said ‘I am going to fucking devour her pussy tonight’?”

The question makes your clit throb so hard you nearly double over against him. You shake your head. “No, no one’s ever… done that,” you say, swallowing dryly. He’s got that predatory look in his eye again, pupils dilated. The blue of his eyes is little more than a thin ring now, and his smile only grows. You yelp when he flips you over suddenly, dropping you onto your back. You watch as he slips off of the bed and onto his knees. Grabbing your ankles, he slides you to the edge in one smooth pull. You lift yourself up onto your elbows to look down at him, but he doesn’t meet your eye. Instead, he’s busying himself with pushing your legs wide apart, clicking his tongue as he stares between your thighs. He lets out a low, appreciative whistle. “Babe, you’re soaked, ” he says, lips set in a self-satisfied grin.

Before you can voice a flustered response, his thumb strokes the wet spot in your panties, rubbing your clit through the thin fabric. You drop your head back against the bed, startling with a jerk of your hips. It makes Homelander laugh. “So sensitive,” he says, as if he wasn’t already fully aware of that. His touches and his voice have a sweltering effect on you, they leave you twisting your hands in the bedding beneath you while he idly teases you through your underwear. He laughs again when you shudder. “Hey now, watch it. You might come in your panties.” You can hear the heat in his voice, how pleased he is with how reactive you are.

“Are you gonna?” You ask, lifting your head enough to look down at him, your breaths shallow. “Are you gonna make me come in my panties?” His eyes flicker up to meet yours. His smile sharpens, and you watch as both his hands move to your hips. He gives them a sharp yank forward, which costs you your footing on the bed. Homelander shoulders his way beneath your legs, bringing your lower half up off of the bed, his head nestled between your thighs. Without a word, he drags his tongue slow and firm where he had been teasing you, giving it a swirl at the end.

The sudden heat of his mouth wrings a choked off noise from you. In this position, you have no leverage. All you can do is press your heels into his back, your thighs clenching reflexively on either side of his head.

You’re completely at his mercy.

When he focuses his lips and sucks your clit through the soaked fabric, you moan loud for him. It makes him chuckle, the vibrations only adding to the pressure building steadily in your body. He alternates between licking and sucking, occasionally stopping to nuzzle into you, letting you grind against his face before pressing his tongue back to your clit.

“H-Homelander,” you gasp, legs crossed behind his head, thighs tense as you use them to rock yourself against him, fervently chasing the crest of this ascent. “I-I’m gonna– oh fuck, oh fuck, oh my god, H–” Homelander squeezes your hips, and gives a sharp little shake of his head. The firm press of his tongue and the unexpected motion tips you sharply over the edge, an eruption of pleasure that rolls through you in steady waves. You arch your back hard, squeezing your thighs tight enough that any normal man would complain, but Homelander is the furthest thing from a normal man. He’s still busy lapping at you through your thoroughly drenched panties, wringing you of the aftershocks of your release until your legs go slack and he hears you whimpering so very prettily.

Looking as smug as you’ve ever seen him, Homelander eases your legs down, gently lowering you back onto the bed. You watch as he drags his gloved hand down his mouth, and then slips his middle finger into his mouth. “Mmm- mm ,” he hums, pulling it out with a wet pop. “Consider me appe-teased ,” he says, and a small part of you is inclined to kick him for that one. All you can muster is an exasperated laugh, limp on the bed. “You’re ridiculous,” you manage to say, pushing a hand through your own hair. Homelander just answers with an amused little rumble, and stands.

“I’m ready for the entrée,” he says, tugging at each fingertip of his glove to loosen it off, dropping it onto the nightstand, followed shortly by the other one. You scoot yourself up the bed until you can drop your head onto one of the fluffy pillows at the headboard. Reaching under your skirt, you take a moment to tug off your underwear, which you absolutely will not be able to wear home. By the time you get them off, Homelander has already dropped down next to you. Effortlessly, he grabs hold of you and rolls you over on top of him. You catch your hands on his chest, adjusting yourself up to straddle his waist. His hands settle on your bare thighs, where he gives both a sharp little smack. “Up you go,” he says, curving his hands under your ass to hoist you up, earning a startled little sound from you. You realize he has other plans as he places you down directly over his mouth.

The first swipe of his tongue against your naked, sensitized clit makes your whole body jerk away, but you don’t get far. Homelander’s hands are on your hips, and he’s keeping you from wriggling away from him. “Relax,” he says, his breath a hot wave against your wet pussy. “Enjoy the ride.” “Wait, I’m still–” sensitive , you mean to say, but the word is lost in the noise you make when he closes his mouth on your clit and sucks at it. You lean forward, bracing both hands on the headboard with a keening moan. His tongue feels as unreal as any other part of him, thick and dexterous in the way it works you. Without the barrier of fabric between you, the feel of it is so much more intense. He swirls his tongue in repetitive patterns over your clit before sinking his tongue into you, fucking it in and out.

Somehow it’s both too much and not enough, the pressure from earlier feeling more like an ache between your legs. He’s holding you so firmly and easily that you can’t adjust at all, you can’t escape from the relentless onslaught. You just keep sinking further until your arms are folded against the headboard, your forehead pressed against your forearm. “F-fuck, Homelander, please, it’s– it’s too much, wh–” you yelp when you feel a sharp, albeit harmless slap to your ass. He gives it a squeeze before slapping there again, jolting a lewd moan out of you. The strikes distract you from, dispersing sensation and addling your mind. The ache is growing more and more intense with every swipe and swirl of his tongue. He holds you in place with one hand and slaps your ass with the other while you grind down hard against his mouth, steadily losing the capacity for words.

Satisfied that you’re not going to try and escape, Homelander relinquishes his hold on your hip and brings his fingers between your thighs, teasing where you’re wettest with the tip of his finger. You barely notice it because of the way he’s sucking on your clit, but you gasp when you feel him press his finger inside you, curling it wickedly. One, two, three pumps and you’re moaning, holding the top of the headboard in a white-knuckle grip, using it to hold yourself steady. Homelander pushes in a second finger, and by the time you feel the third working you open, your legs are shaking uncontrollably. He is feasting on you, humming appreciative little noises between the wet sounds of him eating you out. When he suddenly spanks your ass again, you tighten up around his fingers, and your orgasm hits you like a crack of thunder, seizing up every muscle in your body while pulse after pulse of sweet release ripples through you. You let out a sound halfway between a moan and a cry, and Homelander doesn’t miss a beat, pumping his fingers just a little faster while he laps greedily at the slick mess of you.

“Nngh, no– no more, H-Homelander, please, oh god, oh god please, I can’t–” you pant frantically, reaching down to pull at his hair, uncertain he has any intention of stopping. Blessedly, you feel him slow, tenderly withdrawing his fingers, followed by his tongue. He slides his hands up your thighs and cups them just under your ass, holding you steady as he sits up. You let go of the headboard and let him manhandle you down into his lap, where you get a good look at his slick lips, his eyes dark and still wholly ravenous.

You kiss him without a thought. His lips are coated in the salt-sweet taste of you, and you feel as if you’ve been set aflame as you lick it out of his mouth, clutching either side of his face. He reciprocates eagerly, pushing his tongue against yours. All you can think about is how good it felt against your clit, and how badly you want him to do that every day of the rest of your life. “Take out your cock,” you murmur frantically. “Now.” “‘Cock’? ‘Now’?” He echoes, already reaching between your bodies to unclasp his belt. “Wow, not very virginal of you,” he teases, running his tongue along his teeth, insatiable. You hear the hiss of his zipper.

“I’m not a virgin anymore,” you remind him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He watches you as you lift up onto your knees, settling closer until you feel the thick head of his cock, wet with his own precum, nudging against your soaked pussy. “I’m yours .” Homelander’s smile drops off at that, his lips resting apart. He exhales a soft little breath, and the desire in his eyes becomes covetous. He grabs hold of you, hands on either side of your neck, his thumbs hooked over your jaw as he yanks you into a fervent kiss, giving up his own desperate little moan as you sink slowly down onto the hard length of his cock.

He feels exactly as good as you remember him, the stretch a dull ache that rapidly ascends into pleasure. Homelander wastes no time at all, dragging you down with him as he lays back, planting his feet on the bed so that he can thrust up into you. You brace your hands on his chest, your moan muffled by his lips as he fucks you in sharp, deep thrusts. You know he’s restraining himself, you can feel it in the thrum of his body, but it’s still enough to knock your whole world off kilter. Every thrust sparks inside you like the strike of a match, your body hypersensitive. You can already feel yourself rising to yet another peak, every whimper of pleasure lost in the fervency of his kiss. “I’m– fuck, again, Homelander, I’m going to–” “Do it,” Homelander grits out, grabbing hold of your hips, dragging you down to meet every snap of his hips. “Fucking do it. Come on my cock. Only one you’ve had. Only one you’ll ever have,” he says, and his words, the possessive edge in his voice, completely unravel you. You come again, muffling a cry into the crook of his neck as you’re once again swept up in a torrent of pleasure. Homelander fucks you through every wave of it, gasping your name until it cuts off into a choked off noise, and amidst your pleasure you feel a familiar rush of heat as he spills himself impossible deep inside you, his hands biting sweet cresents into your thighs as he holds you tight against him.

You’re both panting, and you’re entirely collapsed against him, breathing heavily against his neck, sweat prickling your brow and beneath your clothes. He slides his hands from your legs and wraps both of his arms around you, one hand pressed to the back of your head as he holds you tight against his body, exhaling a deep, satisfied breath as the two of you both descend slowly from your highs. “I need a shower,” you manage to mumble eventually, your nose pressed against his cheek. You feel it when he smirks. “Bath sounds better,” he counters, absently petting a hand through your hair. “Mmm… Bath good,” you say, trying not to drool on him, but you’re so loose-limbed and thoroughly fucked out, it’s hard not to.

“Bath it is,” he says quietly. After a moment of neither of you moving, he turns his head, his lips brushing your forehead. “John.” It takes you a second to process what he said. Feeling like your brain is made of soup, you lift your head, looking at him with furrowed brows. “What?”

“My name is John.” He’s staring at you through heavily lidded eyes, hair disheveled. He looks younger like this, and entirely… human. Not quite so larger than life. “John,” you echo, the two of you simply staring at one another. “I like it.”

“Good,” he says, leaning in to kiss you. You feel as though you notice a bit of tension leaving his body. “You’ll be screamin’ it next time.” He lifts his brows in a cheesy way that makes you laugh, your own voice low and lazy. “Alright, okay. How about that bath?” You remind him, kissing him again, relishing in the way he smiles through it. As punishment for his atrocious humor, you let him carry you all the way to the bath. He doesn’t seem to mind.

#homelander x you #homelander x reader #homelander fanfiction #I DID IT haha #my wife helped me proofread this and she was fuckin hilarious #my writing #virgin verse

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