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jujutsukgojo · 1 month

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The Fourth Leg

chrollo lucilfer x reader

Summary: No matter how fast you ran, the Spider's leg cannot get far. No matter how long you hid, you were bound to be found, dear number four. WARNING: toxic relationships, mentions of murder and torture, bullying, murder plot, smut, idk what else? yandere? 18+ Smut scene is based on Fear (1996). I saw it and it crept up on me

You’ll always be able spot the blond haired boy from a mile away. His blond locks are longer now, and his eyes are colder. They aren’t the same light grey they used to be when he was around. A small smile comes across your face when you look to see what your boy is wearing: his traditional Kurta attire.

When the massacre happened and you had run into Sheila, she informed you of everything there was to know about the Kurta. So, while he was housed by you, you made those clothes for him. And now that he’s a little older, he still wears the clothes you send him.

Kurapika left home to get his hunter’s license. He was determined and able. Just like you shaped him to be. Alas, there is something there that you once again failed to save. Just like before, like always.

That rageful bloodlust that confuses the host for justice and vengeance when it is neither one. It is darkness that lurks into them and finally settles into their souls.

He is falling for the same trick as you and your dearest friends had. They entered a place and left every smidge of hope they had. What was supposed to be for justice, protection, and Sarasa, resulted in a numbness that is too disgusting to handle. It’s too brutal and vile. Bloody without a thought of washing their hands with repentance.

No matter, the tightness of your chest has you think of one thing: is it too late to save Kurapika?

You go back inside and wash the dishes that you dirtied from cooking his favorites. He had let you know he was coming. It is such a rarity to even be able to contact Kurapika. He’s just so busy lately. That, and he acts like he has never worked a phone before in his life. The little shit.

Thunder and lightning strike, shaking the ground beneath you. A slight rumble under your bare feet. You look out the window again and see a ghost from your past. Tall, silver haired, and just as beefy as before: Silva Zodlyck. You haven’t seen him since he killed you.

If he spots you, it will be a brawl. Another side of you that you have buried, not exorcised, all these years are calling out for his blood. To wreak havoc once more and see the fear in his eyes again. The bad thing about that is, is that you are a non combatant. An exorcist, a priestess of sorts. Not at all suited for the front lines. You can defend yourself and fight, but not on the level of him or the others.

Hell, maybe not even Kurapika now, and you wiped that boy’s tears and snot.

What you can do now is remain low. As much as you want to see that little brat and talk to him, to find out how he’s been, to fuss over him and see if he’s eaten yet, right now you can’t even consider that. Not when he is close to finding out. Besides, he can take care of himself for a bit. As it appears, Silva isn’t after him.

Breathe in, breathe out. Focus on me, trust in me.

Your breath hitches. That smooth voice is in your head. One you haven’t heard of in years. With all the power inside, you tried to push it out. To wipe their faces from your memories.

You see the trash can and can only think of Little. Oh, how you tortured that boy. Putting him in trashcans and sitting on the lids and gave him noogies. Little would always retaliate but had to be held back when that one showed up to protect you. God, why are you thinking of this? There is a beast of a man who almost ended you and your dumbass is reminiscing of your bullying days.

Had you not pulled that one trick up your sleeve, you truly would have died by the hands of Zoldyck. It has been years since you’ve fought seriously. You trained Kurapika, but you never went full throttle. Nothing but rust is on your nen and hand-to-hand combat.

Just sit back, don’t hide your presence or anything. That's what he’s looking for. Any kind of blip in the atmosphere. Hell, he may not even remember you!

_____________

You know what you have to do. There is no hope here. No compassion for others at all. The Kurta clan, Sarasa, you, no one. It is now or never.

You jump at the bolder of a man. Crosses paint themselves on your palms as a holy prayer escapes your lips. Your veins line with the brightest blue and the rubble around you lift off the ground from your aura. Directly, your hands clasp onto Silva’s. He looks confused and the most surprising of all, scared.

He lets go of his hatsu. In the back, there is a bloody scream. A roar that a lion can never compare itself to. A bloodlust from the roar that made Silva’s eyes widen. It is too late, the hatsu hit you straight on. Two balls of electricity and power collide with your fragile body.

When you came to, by pure nen, you could vaguely see your dearest. His eyes watery, voice hoarse, blood trinkling on his face. Silva is not in sight, not a single thing left behind. Did he kill him?

“No, no, no, damn it! Fuck!” He shakes you ever so slightly as you lay in his arms. “Heal yourself, please...”

You have to leave. He has no regard for you or anyone but himself. Chrollo, the boy who is only a few years older than you, yet you still bullied him, is gone. He didn’t care that you’re a non combatant. He was willing to sacrifice your life and his for his ego.

He only wants your ability, positively. Chrollo is gone. It is only the spider left. You have always hated spiders anyway.

________________

Nah, Silva remembers you. He almost died too. How can he forget that he was sent to kill the man responsible for the annihilation of an entire clan? It's hard to forget a case like that considering the brutality of the deaths.

And if Kurapika finds out that you are Number Four, the lost spider, he’ll lose it. He'll demand to see the tattoo, no doubt. You can’t show him that. Especially since you lost a bet with Machi and Paku and put it on a place that he just has no business looking at.

As long as you remain calm and blend in, no one will notice. If Kurapika comes in with Silva, you’ll leave before. Pretend that you are out of town or something. Actually, that’s a good idea. You quickly write a note telling your boy that you had to rush out and that you’d call him later. To help himself to the food and make sure to rest.

There is another rumble under your feet. It feels different. The screams are louder, the air more ominous by the second. What is this? It touches you like a familiar hand. Something cold and clammy. Is that...Nobunaga?

Don't panic, don’t panic. It's been years since you faked your death and abandoned them. They probably don’t remember you, right?

Nah, you pantsed Nobunaga in the middle of a dubbing. He was wearing the ranger’s underwear. He always vowed to get revenge, but he was stopped by Chrollo, of course. You’ve known these people for years and fought with them side by side. You saved him several times and healed him. He will remember you.

There is a deathly silence. Your skin raises goosebumps all over. You can feel him. Your old friend knows or is at least trying to figure out what’s going on. You take a deep breath and remain calm. It has always been easy to trick him. How many times did you do such a thing and lead him to embarrassing situations? And how many times did Chrollo get you out? Every. Single. Time.

You sure were spoiled rotten by Chrollo in every way. It drove people nuts. When you were dropped off in Meteor City at the age of five, you were a terror due to pain and heartbreak. There was only so much a child could take and you weren’t able to express it properly.

The priest held onto patience as much as he could, but no one could ever hold a candle to Chrollo’s patience. It is as if he is a saint. You'd bite, kick, and talk over him. When they dubbed the tapes, you would always turn the tv off just because it wasn’t what you wanted to watch. Uvogin was so close to beating you so many times, but Chrollo intervened and explained to them what empathy was.

However, he went overboard and spoiled you rotten. In the Troupe you got part of Chrollo’s shares including what was actually yours. He made sure that you were the most taken care of out of them all. He always helped you up and protected you the most. You weren’t able to go on a mission by yourself and had to have at least two people with you, just like him.

He always held a soft spot for you, you think. Even before you shared special moments. Until he stopped caring and went somewhere where you can’t follow.

Now that you have abandoned the Spider, Lord only knows what’ll happen. Will he spare you for old time’s sake? Or will Feitan, also known as “Little”, finally get his revenge because of the trash cans?

Or Machi’s cut up clothes, and Paku’s shaved head, or Uvo’s wedgies and bites, Phinks’s eyebrows that never grew back, Shalnark’s broken nose and the tack in his sho-

Oof, you’re going to die. And that was all done when you were like, six? There were plenty more years that you were just onery. Chrollo...that poor guy. The hell he went through before and after the Troupe...the patience of a saint.

Spoiled, spoiled, spoiled, rotten.

You were ungoverned and got away with things that the rest couldn’t. But this, rejecting the Spider, rejecting him, sheltering the last Kurta descendant...you’ll die.

Or be in a lot of pain.

Suddenly, you feel a sharpness crawling up your arm. They're coming. Another rumble occurs right when you back away from the sink. In the distance is a large body flying in the air with a trail of red following it. What?

With a gross thud that you swear everyone heard, lands Silva. Beaten, bloody, gone.

Well, there goes that problem. On to the next, which is Nobunaga. You're caught in his en somehow. Or whatever the hell that's called. Anyway, never did you think he’d grow and be able to stretch it out this far.

You start to leave calmly so he doesn’t suspect anything. Just a calm person that his en is confusing for someone else! Finally, you hear the even more terrible commotion. You know Kurapika is okay if the rumors of the powerful chain user are true. And he seemed to have a lot of help. Once you shake the Nobunaga off, you’ll make your way to Pika.

He doesn’t know that in your past you were one of the Spider’s legs. The fourth one, to be exact. The one who died by the hands of Silva Zoldyck, years ago. Soon after the Kurta’s extinction and after the fight with the Spider’s leader, the devil himself.

You lock the backdoor and head to the woods where there is a safe spot that Kurapika used to train. As you pass by the branches and the shady trees, you are blinded by the harsh memories of your dear friend, Sarasa. She and the Troupe are a few years older than you. They spent more time with her than you did but the memories of her, those precious moments that you wanted to last for years to come, that innocence, was stripped from you. You hold onto the specks of what was left of your childhood, before the truth of hell appeared.

A trash bag, a child inside, the Troupe, and Chrollo who faced it first and has never recovered.

You weren’t there to find her. It was broken down to you because of your youth and denial, you were staunch in the belief that it was a lie and that she was alive. The only one who had patience for you was Chrollo. The tantrums were the tipping point to the realization that she had suffered in her last moments.

When it hit you, he held you as you remained in shock. He catered to your every whim to fill in the shoes of the missing people in your life. And you left him.

How could you not? He left you first, abandoned you for a darkness that you couldn’t shine a light through. Chrollo believed that he was a messiah to the city and to his friends. They follow blindly when you can’t. You are a thief, not a heartless killer. The Kurta didn’t deserve their fate.

You push past a couple of thick bushes to be startled.

“Come here, now.” His voice is as smooth as you remember, just a little deeper now and more commanding. Although you know him and his quirks, the atmosphere is off. A creepy feeling of nothing in the air. You can’t sense him of his anger at all. Only a chill and a hair-raising sensation that doesn’t match anyone you know. Perhaps, this is fear.

You walk to him as you spot him in a clearing. “Chrollie.”

“A dead spider, huh.” He stands tall but casually with his hands in his pockets. His hair is slicked back and the tattoo on his forehead is more prominent. He’s shirtless and wears an odd coat. His style choice is different now than it was back then. Before, he would throw on normal Meteor City clothing, which consisted of whatever was around. Looking back, his favorite was a white shirt and plain black jeans. Now, he looks like he wears designer.

“Here I thought that you were squashed,” he looks you up and down, eyes narrowing. You feel vulnerable under his gaze. “All along you were here. Raising a devil that killed two of your own.”

You know about Uvogin and Pakunoda. Kurapika felt so guilty, after the events he vented to you. He sounded as young as he did when you took him in. Of course, you were hurt and cried when Kurapika wasn't looking. You mourned them as anyone would.

“I know about that-”

“And you still didn’t come back?” Chrollo is shaking, desperate to calm down. His fists are clenched so hard, you think they’ll bleed. This, you think, is the most anger he's ever shown. And it's toward you. “Could I? You would’ve killed me!”

“I would have accepted you with open arms, Number Four.” Would have.

Number Four. He didn’t even call you by your real name. “No, you would react just as badly as you are now.”

“Oh, my darling spider, you have no idea. All you had to do is trust me.” He shakes his head in disappointment.

_____________

“I’m not joining, Chrollie. I’m not calling you Boss, either.” You were disappointed that they actually went through with this. Years ago, you came across their little meeting. Chrollie looked at you and asked if you wanted to join but you called them all stupid.

“Why not? I'm the leader.” You roll your eyes. “No, you’re a theater nerd.”

You jump and sit on the desk. He comes up to you, only inches apart. Chrollie gently cradles your face. “That part of me is gone, darling.”

“Darling? Pretending to be all manly now? A gentleman? That's what 'darling' reminds me of. Those books you read.” You acknowledge that he’s grown up. He broader and stronger. His hands no longer smooth but are calloused and bigger than your own.

He erases how gentle he was caressing your face and replaces it with a commanding and firm touch on your cheeks. “Join me.”

“No.” You answer as well as you can with your cheeks squished. Suddenly, his lips touch yours. It is your first kiss. It sends shocks to your special place. He parts from you. Embarrassingly, you follow in his direction.

Quickly, you snap out of the trance of your first kiss. You shake your head in defiance. “I want to travel! I want to get out of this city and experience the highs. I've already touched the lows. I don’t want to get deeper.”

"You think we’re lower than you?” There’s an edge in his tone. One that tells you to tread carefully. However, you’re not shy when it comes to Chrollie.

“No. But I worry that you will be.” He tilts his head and asks, “Because you think I can’t take you to the there?”

He grabs your hand that is so much larger than yours. It's weird now. You are used to him leading you places but now you just realize the difference between you two. He’s...a man now. It’s all so new. You'll never admit that he makes you feel some type of way.

“Let me show you.”

Just like in the movies, you see a roller coaster for the first time. There are lights everywhere and smiling and laughing people. And not at you! Just the joys of life without worrying where the next meal is coming from. You spot the balloons in various animal shapes and see the fluffy candy. The pretzels are soft, and the fried dough the size of your head is to die for. You have never witnessed such freedom. The last time you have seen an inkling of joy was when you were a child and Chrollie was dubbing tapes.

The two of you get on the back of the ride. You cling onto his arm. “Scared?”

“No!” In truth, you were. Never in your life did you ever see one of these in person. Only on the videos Chrollo would pick up. It showed the ride going fast and high with screaming people. There were twists and sharp turns on the tape. And now, you get to be one of those people to experience it.

The ride starts. He wraps his right arm around you. The roller coaster shoots out causing you to flinch.

“I got you, trust me.” You curl into him as the ride takes a sharp turn. Right after it happened, you feel tracing between your legs. You look down and see Chrollie’s fingers rubbing against you.

It's...feeling really good. Your breaths become quicker as his fingers do figure eights through your underwear. You let out a little shriek when he pulls them down. Now, there’s nothing blocking him from you. The ride takes a sudden left.

You don’t know how it happened, how it led to this. What exactly did you say to him that incited him to massage your bud and insert a single finger inside you. Slowly coaxing moans that blend in with the screaming of everyone else. Never have you been so grateful for that. He places a kiss on your head. “Join me, swear to me.”

Another finger enters you. His palm rubs and presses against you. How are his fingers so long? Why are they bigger than yours and feel so much better?

You start to really moan as he goes faster. You lift up slightly to follow his motions with your hips. Chrollie bites and sucks on the spot under your ear. The ride starts to go up.

“Holy sh-oh God...” You breathily cry. He growls in your ear at the sound. “I’ll take you there, to the highs. So high you’ll never see the ground.”

You grab his wrist and move furiously, spreading your legs a little more to give him as much room as possible. You want more, need more. There is a feeling there that is about to pop. One that he can take.

“Swear to me.” You watch as the stars get closer. People make noises of excitement different than yours, but it blends. “Do you want me to stop?”

“N-no! I trust you!” You grab onto anything in reach as you give up trying to keep up with him. He's cradling you, his dominant hand relentless and lips sinful. A goose bump raising feeling starts. It's cold and is making you shake even more. Chrollo feels it too.

He's smiling when you gasp and your head goes back.

Everything is happening at once. Two different sensations, both caused by the boss, by Chrollo Lucilfer. And he knows it, he’s waited for it.

“Swear to me, trust me!” You grab his leg and squeeze it. “Let me take you there.” He whispers in your ear.

As the ride reaches the peak, so do you. Loudly, you swear to him. To the spider and his name. His hands and whatever energy is rushing to you, cause your eyes to go back. The squelching sound is loud, but your euphoric moans of his name are louder.

From what you gather in this state, the ride was supposed to stop. Supposed to stay on the rails rather than bounce a little. You didn't even notice that your aura was the cause for the ride's disruption.

When your high leaves you, you’re in a daze and glowing. He withdraws himself and sucks on his fingers. You gasp at the sight. It is pornographic, the hungry look in his eyes. The grey that you have known for years has become so dark and just by a lick. He grabs your hand gently and leads you away to finish what he started. Your legs shake along the way and for the rest of the night when the two of you are satisfied. The way he licked and sucked and swirled his tongue on the most delicate of places and thrusted himself inside had him gain the scratches on his back.

The two of you created a memory that neither of you would ever forget.

It wasn’t until you learn about the nodes do you hold a slight bitterness towards him. He caused yours to open wide because of this. Your aura nodes and a nen pact that binds you together. For the Spider.

____________

You swallow at the memory and plenty more of similar situations with your former boss. For years you trusted him fully. But somewhere along the way, he had lost it. “Chrollie, please understand. I just didn’t agree with it anymore.”

“Really?” He scoffs. He knows you are hiding the words to describe how it really was, how it is. You rub your eyes with the palms of your hands.

“When you killed that entire clan...tortured them, mutilated them...I couldn’t do it anymore. You wouldn’t listen to me. You only thought of yourself.”

“Excuse me?” His voice is low, and his eyebrows are raised. He's gotten so intimidating now. Before, he was someone you pushed over even when he was your boss. It has always been that way. You admit, you are spoiled. Undisciplined and rebellious to the Spider.

To Chrollo Lucilfer.

If you are going to die today, you are leaving with giving him a piece of your mind. A dose of reality that he no longer has.

“You completely lost yourself. How can you make dumb decisions like that?”

“Their eyes gave Meteor City a profit that helped millions. I did it for our city.” You shake your head no. “No, you did it for yourself. As some kind of sick powerplay! And everyone follows you blindly, and to do it without a thought. You guys kill for no reason. It didn’t use to be that way.”

Your lip wobbles at the memory of that day. You had gone up to Chrollo and went against the mission. It was stupid to you. It didn’t make any sense. They were going to kill these people because he wanted their eyes? You understand that he is greedy and increasingly vicious. But not cruel, not before the end.

He didn’t yell at you, but he did put you in your place with a stern yet calm voice. It was scary. Just as scary as he is now. You still couldn’t do it though. The thought of it made you cry.

So, he commanded you to keep watch and capture any stragglers. There were none. You ran away from the screams and ran into a boy with blond hair and blue clothing. A Kurta. The last one, to be exact. You begged him not to go over there. Afraid of his fate or him seeing the gruesome crime.

The Troupe were not there, only corpses. Eyes gouged out, bruises and bloody. Even the children. Lucilfer had become the devil himself.

You, without thought, took the boy in. You found a little village not too far away and raised him in a cottage. Unfortunately, you weren’t there every single day because of your “job”. One he knew nothing about.

Until your last day. You and Chrollo had been walking in Meteor City when Silva Zoldyck came. Someone called for him to eliminate the Troupe. Your dearest didn’t care that you aren’t really suited for fighting. Especially a Zoldyck.

That was your chance! So, when Silva had hit you with his Hatsu, you hid inside your energy and faked your death. It looked so real, felt like it too. It took a lot of healing and purifying to survive.

You had to do it. Your friends had lost their way. You couldn’t go along with it anymore.

“You left.” You whimper.

“Are you kidding me? I believe the one who abandoned the Spider, your friends, me, is you. My spoiled little brat .” He takes a few steps closer to your standing frame.

“You went to a place where I couldn’t follow. It was no longer about finding Sarasa’s killers or protecting the city. The Spider turned evil. I knew it was happening but I didn’t face it until years later when you committed a pointless massacre.” He ignored you and talked over you.

“You swore. And here I find you healthy, alive. While we are dying. We needed you and you left!” That ended with a powerful yell.

“You didn’t care about me either. I was no match for Silva yet you were willing to sacrifice me. You went to a place I just couldn’t -can’t- follow.”

A tear drips down your face. His face is furious and slicked back hair is coming undone by him running his hand through it. He stops when he sees your tear. Instinct takes over and he wipes it.

“Uvo, Paku, Shalnark, Korotopi. All gone and you could have stopped it. I was cursed by that boy to never talk to the Troupe again. We had to find an exorcist in Greed Island of all places because you decided we were trash.” His voice deceptively hushed and smooth. You shake your head no.

“Not trash. Just bad leadership.”

Chrollo’s eyes widen. This is the first time anyone has insulted his leadership. He immediately pulls your hair. You yelp and try to get out of his hold.

“And yet you do not complain of the riches I gave your greedy ass.” He growls.

“You are a profitable leader. A good provider. An excellent one. I hadn’t a need or want in the world,”

You struggle to get out of his grip. It loosens as you speak. “But you aren’t a true leader. A true one would never endanger his people like you have. Never would view them as replaceable.”

He tosses you on the ground. You accidentally land on your wrist. Chrollo paces back and forth. “Replaceable? Bad leader-ha! Oh, love you are something.”

He grabs your arms roughly. You try to yank your arm out of his grasp. “You’ve already replaced me!”

Chrollo shakes his head no. “I could never.”

“I’m sorry, Chrollie. I just-you-,” You take a deep breath. “Everything went downhill. We stopped looking for the killers like you promised. We weren’t Robin Hood anymore, either. Remember that story you read me? Take from the rich and give to the poor?”

“I remember.”

“It wasn’t that anymore. What was left was coldness and blood. And a boy whose life and childhood were taken from him. Just like ours. It wasn’t fair.”

“We support and provide for our home, not some random people.”

Frustrated, you retort, “You like to listen to the sound of your own voice too much. That's why you don’t listen! You don’t realize actions have consequences until shit like Uvo and Paku happen.”

He raises his hand. You flinch to brace for it. This is the first time he will strike you.

Time is frozen as you wait for the pain. You open your eyes and see what’s the hold up. Chrollo stands frozen with his hand still in the air still. His face is no longer hardened, but shocked. His mouth is slightly open and eyes have widened. He stares at his open palm as if it had a mind of its own, and he couldn't believe it.

Then he clears up once again to return to his previous deadly expression. Rather than striking you on your face, he lands his hand on your ass. You yelp at the impact.

“ Ow!” You rub the cheek he hit. “Why? Of all things?” Like him hitting your ass was supposed to be better than your face? It's demeaning!

He grabs your face with one hand and kisses you harshly, passionately. A confession, a return. Stupidly, you get lost in him like always.

_______

“No! You play this instead.”

“But I want to dub Cleanup Rangers...” Chrollo rubs his arm as he looks down at the nine year old. You were dropped off at the front doorstep of the church about a couple of years ago. Ever since then you’ve been a little terror. Always picking on people, on the priest, the entire city.

You are a tiny bully pushing everyone around because you’re hurt. Only Sarasa could fully calm you. While everyone else just visited the church from time to time, you were a child that had to live in it because no one liked you. You never got a nanny or substitute siblings. All you had was yourself and a priest who was often at his wits end. You had to follow him around and practice his teachings and study them. You were often times bored and thus angry at everything.

Sarasa was a God send in his eyes and yours. Chrollo was someone who tried to follow in Sarasa’s footsteps with you but lacked the ability to tell you no. He was a patient and caring boy, but one you walk over.

“I don’t care! This one!” You stomp your feet.

“Don’t let her push you around like that, Chrollo.” Uvogin recently hit a growth spurt, so he towered over you two completely.

“No! What I say goes. This one!” You show Uvogin the tape. “Do you even know what’s on it?”

“No. But I want to see.”

Chrollo hums and places the tape inside. It turns out, it was blank. You pouted as Uvogin teased you. His smile is wide and practically glows. The laugh is boisterous and bounces off the walls. Immediately, you hit him in his most sensitive spot, causing him to buckle and groan.

You scream at the top of your lungs. “Stop laughing at me!”

Laughter and a smile like that remind you too much of your parent when they dropped you off in this God forsaken, dirty, and polluted place. You hate it. “It’s okay. Here, we’ll do the Clean up Rangers and you can help if you want!”

Chrollo took out the blank tape and put it aside. He picked you up and placed you on the desk closest to him. Uvo hisses and glares at you. You frown and stick out your tongue.

“Listen, you can play the-”

“No. I'm scared of that.” He knows good and damn well you don’t listen. He looks at you confused until he deduces the problem. “Stage fright?”

Confused, you ask, “What’s that?”

Uvogin groans in the background with every dirty word he can muster. He curses Chrollo for being so gentle with you and a “pushover”. You quickly tell him to shut up or you’ll hurt him even worse.

“It’s when you get scared to talk in front of a bunch of people.” You sat in front of him and nodded. “Okay, how about you have a front row seat then! Make sure you cheer us on, alright?”

You're still pouting. He rubs your cheek. You want to play with the rest of them too! They never let you play normal things. He hugs you and rubs your back to console you.

“Trust me. It'll be fun!”

___________

You wrap your arms around his neck, gently tugging at his hair. What was a proclamation of dominance, turned into an embrace of passion. You part from him slightly. You rub his chest and ask, “Why did you lose your way? Killing all of those people?”

“Why did you stop trusting me?”

“You are willing to sacrifice everyone, even me.” That day with Silva Zoldyck was proof of your accusation, of your observation. He sucks on your neck with the intent of a mark. You give him a gasp. Slightly muffled, “Why do you doubt me? Do you honestly think I would have? You stopped trusting me.”

He nibbles on your ear. You try to pull away before you are totally caught in him. “The Kurta-”

“Are responsible for Sarasa’s death and for some of the trafficking of children. Getting rid of them was necessary. Do you understand?” He continues to kiss down your neck, making sure to suck on the best places. He holds you a little closer.

You want to believe there was a deeper reason for the extermination of the Kurta. “You barely remember it, so it can’t be true. Hell, how can I believe you when you don’t care about anyone?” He slaps your ass again. You are this close to smacking the shit out of him. You rub your bum in hopes to stop the stinging.

“Stop that! That’s not funny!” You pull away to see an indifferent face for a split second. Chrollo grabs the back of your hair and pulls you in once again. His personality flips like a switch. The sweetness is gone and back is the bloodlust and anger. Honestly, it never left. It was just hidden to trick you. He's a good actor like that.

____________

“What are you guys doing?” Phinks groans at the sight of you. Recently, he had to pull Feitan out of the trashcan again. Next to him is Feitan saying words in his native tongue that would have made a sailor blush. You blow a kiss to them both just to antagonize them.

“Enough, she’s part of the Spider now.” Chrollo, right on his forehead, has a cross tattoo that kind of resembles a web. You don't know where he got it done at.

“Her? What can she do?” Machi crosses her arms. You always wondered if she liked Chrollie. If she knew what the two of you did last night, she’d scream.

You’re still a little sore and flustered. But happy and satisfied. Never have you felt so good. At first it was so sweet and dare you say, loving. Then as the night went on it became animalistic.

Rather than sit around him, waiting to hang on to his every word, you sit next to him, chomping on some chips you found. You hear some groans and mumbles about how you are and how you’re going to get away with everything. Again.

You stick your tongue out and say, “That’s why I ain’t sharing...bitch ass.” Phinks crosses his arms. “Damn it...”

“Enough,” He stares down at you. “Like I said, she is a leg. And an exorcist.”

You feel his eyes on you again. You look up to see his eyes. “The fourth leg.”

________

“You are coming home, now.” He drags you by the back of your neck.

“Wait, stop!”

“Shut the ever living fuck up.” He squeezes you harder. Wasn't he just loving on you like two seconds ago? You have always wondered if he was all there. He seemed genuine when he was a kid but seeing the man he's become, you may never know.

“Hold on! You said the Kurta killed Sarasa. How do you know?”

“Sheila told us.”

You see the rest of the legs. They look unbothered until they see you. Shock is painted on their faces so vibrantly.

“I thought...I thought she hadn’t seen you in years?” You have a sense of confusion and suddenly, dread.

____

Sheila limps to a cave. You see her as you run away from the Troupe and their horrific actions. This happened right before you would spot a blond boy. “Sheila?”

“Oh my God!” She hugs you tightly. Her leg has always been messed up since she was a child.

You feel like crying at the sight of her. It has been you and the Spider for so long now, you were forgetting what Sheila was like. She was the closest thing you had to Sarasa. You had your own way of loving someone, but Sarasa seemed the most natural. A big sister, a mother even. A girl who always shared stickers with you and sang you to sleep.

“What’s going on?” She asks as you hug return her hug. “T-they’re killing them!”

“Who? Who’s dying?”

“The Kurta!” Sheila gasps. “I was just with them. Oh no, did I-”

You sniffle and wipe your eyes. “No, no. This is on them.”

“And the Kurta were so nice too. Harmless, peaceful.”

____

Why did she say that if she knew they killed Sarasa? When did her and Chrollo talk? You were with Chrollo the whole time, so it couldn’t have been that day.

You see Sheila in the background. She is looking down at the ground, then looks up with the most wicked smile and gleam. What? You stare back with horror. Never has she had that smile. It is foreign and totally misplaced. This is Sheila, not a Troupe member. Why is she even here? She isn’t a part of it and disapproved of the group.

Then, everything is falling together.

Everyone’s faces are that of monsters.

You don’t understand. She told them of their whereabouts. She said something completely different to you. And of course, you believed her. Her and Sarasa were like sisters. They were so close it was like looking at twins. Never would you have thought she could commit such a sin. The Kurta were innocent, but...what’s going on? Everyone was desperate to capture Sarasa’s killers-oh no. You stop moving your feet, only to be dragged by Chrollo Lucilfer. He moves his hand from your neck to your arm in a tight hold, tripping you along the way.

“No, no, no!” You’re trying to yank free. How can he not see it? He’s the smartest person you know. How can he not see what had taken place that day? The horror, the blood and mutilation. Chrollo, you must see this!

The Kurta and Sarasa were innocent. Kurapika...your boy.

“Chrollo, don’t you see?” You whisper for only him to hear. He looks down at you as the rain begins to fall gracefully.

You can feel the tears swell.

Does he know what happened that day? That the Troupe and Sheila are monsters. And not just because of the Kurta’s extinction. You may not have all of the puzzle pieces, but by the reactions alone, it becomes clearer.

Out of everyone here, you struggle to read him. Always have, even when you were kids. You only catch the truth from time to time when he gives it to you. They are few in between.

“Have they made a fool of you?” It is rare to one up Chrollo. His power can wipe nations, his aura is powerful and vast, his commanding tone is one that cannot be ignored.

“Sacrifices have to be made.” He bluntly answers without a hint of remorse or second thought. His tone is final and dead. Like he has nothing else to say about it.

_______

“I’m fucking sick of her-!” Uvogin plops down on the chair. It creaks under him. Before Uvogin can continue his ranting, another voice pipes up on the matter of a certain little girl.

“She’d...be fun.” His voice is recognizable to anyone due to his lack of pure fluency. His hair is choppy right now because a brat got her hands on a pair of scissors. The thick, black, strands are being fixed by Pakunoda. It isn’t the best, but at least it wouldn’t look as bad as it did.

Machi taps her foot. “She would be, huh?”

“It can’t be us, though. Too obvious.” Shalnark points. Collectively, the friends are beginning to plan and imagine a better Meteor City.

“Are you guys being serious, right now? This is a child you’re talking about.” Pakunoda taps on Feitan’s shoulder, signaling that she’s done. He turns back to look at her and answers, “Deadly.”

Machi sighs. “You’re right, Shal. It is too obvious. And we have rehearsal with Chrollo, too.”

Pakunoda crosses her arms. “This isn’t sitting right. Something is going to go wrong.”

“Remember your shaved head?” Machi asks. Pakunoda tenses up at the memory of you butchering her hair. Who keeps giving you scissors? You would be cute with that crooked smile of yours if it wasn't caused by the loss of her hair.

“There are a lot more bad things going on in the city. Accidents happen all the time, Paku.” Nobunaga puts his hair into a bun. Pakunoda remains silent. “We can’t let anyone else know. Only ones in this room.”

As said, bad things happen to kids in Meteor City all the time.

Sarasa decided to go find a tape instead of you since you have a habit of picking blanks. You stomped your foot in protest. You wanted to go! You’d finally had the right directions to pick up some good tapes, anyway. Alas, Sarasa went while Chrollo soothed you.

She skips along and sees a few men ready to welcome her in the worst way.

“Is it her?” Uvogin’s heart is racing. It's pounding so loud it’s in his ears. The rain is the only outside noise as Chrollo reluctantly opens the bag.

Chrollo opens the bag and sees the face of Hell. Uvo grabs him and demands to know what is on the note since he can't read it. The wrong face is behind that letter, that much is known. The wrong directions were given to the wrong child. Everyone needs to know. To hear the mistake and pain, the truth.

The words on that letter will never be spoken.

_____

“The Kurta is an isolated clan with special eyes. They'd be a good cover, no?” Sheila asks. Lately, Sarasa’s murder is being brought up more and more. Chrollo is turning into the leader that Meteor City needs. And an omnipotent being. A terrifying, controlling, mastermind of a god. One that demands respect and cooperation, devotion to what he’s created: a spider. But that spider has one weakness that at a drop of a hat, can cause this god to wreak havoc on everything.

Calm and collected he appears, but thunderous when he strikes. Loyal to what is his, but horrible in all.

“So, the Kurta. Agree?”

“Aye.” They say in unison. “It’s not like anyone would miss them.”

_____

The more you study him, the more you wonder if he knows. Was he blind or was he in on it and spun that story of him finding her? How could any of them do this?

“Please, not you...” You whisper. Chrollo’s book is open to a page fit for an exit. A green portal opens. “No! No, no, no!”

You struggle even more as everything, except for Chrollo’s role, becomes clear. You are not the smartest, but you are stupid. Years in that blasted city has taught you valuable lessons of reading people. Years of knowing these people have given you an advantage on top of that. Well, not everything obviously. “Chrollo, what did you do?”

He glances down at you once more. “I am the Head, my fourth limb. But even a spider has a treasure to keep.”

His grey eyes are dull but with the slightest hint of possessiveness. You'd recognize it anywhere. It is the same look he gave you when you saw him today, it is the same when you first met him and he had decided to keep you under his wing, it is the same as when you finally joined the Troupe.

This wicked gleam has always sought you, always found you. Unfortunately, you could never read them other than that. Like you said, he only shows what he wants you to see and even then, it is blurry. God, you wish you could. If only for a moment to answer your question. Just a straight answer, the truth, about how or why Sarasa died. She was innocent and sweet. She was your friend! Everyone’s, actually.

So, why? What could she have possibly done to deserve such a fate? How can he not see the true culprits? What about the Kurta? Did he know and went with it anyway?

No, that’s a bad deal. It can’t be just one question and one answer. You have too many questions. And not a single one will be answered, you bet.

He drags you to the portal. The Troupe starts to enter it. Phinks looks at you for a split second. For that one second his eyes look...sad? No, that’s not possible with someone like him. Like them. You are accepting that you’re in danger, but not that these beasts have a heart or a capability of remorse.

You look around frantically. Where's Kurapika? Is he dead?

Would he save someone like you?

“(Y/n), who are you looking for?” Chrollo asks. He doesn’t even look at you. You want to call out for Kurapika, but that’d expose him to danger. No, if your boy hates you let that be so. At least he’ll be okay. Hopefully he has learned to make his own attire.

“You can’t do this, Lucilfer.”

“But dear, I can, I have, and I will.” A few more steps to the portal. “Lucilfer, I don’t want to go.”

You yank your arm out of his grasp. “Stop this! I don’t want to go. Do you know what they did?”

He calmly turns around and stares at you. He expected this behavior from you. He walks to your frozen form, causing the few survivors of the village to jump. Once again, he cradles your face and places the gentlest of kisses on your lips. They're still soft, you note. Still full and masterful.

Right as your eyes are about to close, you see that he is looking at something past you as the kiss begins to get more intense. More possessive by his hold and the movement of his lips. His grey eyes are narrowed at something that you can’t see.

Is this a claiming? What the hell is he looking at? Done being curious, you turn to look and see your boy Kurapika’s horrified and furious expression. You have no thoughts other than your impending fate. Your vicious crimes and relentlessly cruel past have resurfaced in the form of a wicked man. The boy you took care of and never verbally admitted you loved him as your own, is ruined even more. His heart is broken.

Sarasa is gone, the Spider reigns supreme, and you are stuck. There are more questions than answers at this point. Too many lies from a group that cling together in some sick and twisted loyalty. You have accepted that in the middle of that is the boy you admired and maybe even loved.

And you finally understand what Phinks meant. It wasn’t remorse, it was pity for an old and spoiled friend as they are pushed onto the spider’s web.

#chrollo lucilfer #chrollo lucilfer x reader #hxh #chrollo x reader #oof he's got me #angst #slight yandere #yandere #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere hxh #smut #mild smut #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #hxh fanfic #q #cant be the only one who thinks the cross tattoo looks like a web??

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stevesbipanic · 3 months

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@steddielovemonth Day 2: Love is protection ❤️😉 @steddieas-shegoes

Mild smut under the cut

"Mmm, Eddie, fuck please," Steve moaned biting his lip to try and stay quiet, they hadn't exactly told Eddie's uncle yet. He'd been climbing through Eddie back window for weeks now, he almost ripped his jeans last night. It wasn't like they thought Wayne wouldn't accept them, he loved Steve and he knew Eddie was gay. But the fun of sneaking around hadn't quite worn off left, only Robin knew because movie nights were boring if they couldn't cuddle, plus Steve couldn't not tell his soulmate.

"Please what, baby, you need something?" Eddie responded teasingly. Steve would've glared at him if his fingers weren't dipping under Steve's waistband. "Lemme just grab a condom, sweetness." Robin liked to remind them about the news despite not wanting to know exactly where the condom would be going.

Eddie pulled open the bedside drawer, pulling out an empty box. "We finished that one this morning, did you not buy another one?"

Eddie looked at him confused, "But we never run out." Now it was Steve's turn at being confused. "Eddie, it's only a ten pack, of course we run out."

"But there's always condoms in here."

Steve's eyes widened, "There's always refills and you're not buying them?" He says slowly, connecting the dots faster than Eddie. "Eds, either the tooth fairy picked up a new hobby or your uncle has been refilling your fucking drawer," he explained flustered and definitely no longer in the mood.

Down the hall they could hear movement in the kitchen, Wayne clearly awake for dinner before work. They quickly got dressed and decided to face the music.

"Hey Wayne, hi Mr Clarke," Steve said sheepishly as if he'd been here the whole time and hadn't snuck in twenty minutes earlier.

"Steve, I've told you you can call me, Scott, Eds does."

"Right, Scott."

Eddie was looking so red looking at his uncle.

"Wayne?" He strangled out, "Have you been buying me condoms?"

"Protection is important, Eddie, your dear Robin keeps me updated."

"You've been talking about our sex life with Robin!"

Steve accepted the plate of food from Scott, sitting down to eat, might as well see this through now.

"Who did you think was buying them?"

"I thought it was a big box!"

"I'd put them on your bed, did they walk from the drawer?"

Steve had now started giggling, he loved his boyfriend but he could be oblivious when he wanted to be. Oh, he loved his boyfriend.

Eventually, Eddie calmed down enough to sit through dinner, and later, after they'd said good night to his uncles and were back in bed, Steve cuddled into his side.

"I love you, by the way, even if you think a condom fairy exists." Steve felt Eddie's grip tighten.

"Did you really tell me that you love me for the first time and say condom fairy in the same sentence?"

Steve laughed, "Yeah, seems like our kinda style."

"I love you too, Stevie, but I'm buying our condoms from now on."

Despite their family being a bit too involved in their extracurricular activities, they were both glad they had people that loved them enough to care.

#steddie #steddielovemonth #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #crack #mild smut #background clarkson

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theendisneat · 3 months

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Arranged Marriage [pt.1.3 (The In-Between)]

Pairing: Zhongli x gn!reader

Warnings: Mild blood, mild sexual content, injury, semi-graphic depiction of illness

“Why is it so difficult for you to dodge?” You muttered, stitching another of your husband’s wounds. “I mean, you’re a martial god, your prowess is second to none, yet you couldn’t dodge the very visible spear heading your way?”

The stab wound on Morax’s side was already beginning to heal, you could tell, but your hands needed something to do to cover their shaking. You settled for cleaning and disinfecting the wound, stitching it up and slathering it in salve before wrapping gauze tightly around his abdomen.

“The spear was not entirely visible-”

At the sight of your unimpressed stare, Morax fell silent.

You sigh, finishing the bandages. You move to stand in front of him, tenderly cupping his face, bringing his forehead to your own. “Honestly, it’s almost like you go looking for fights that present a struggle. With how little you care about your own well-being you’d better be happy that I learned the medicinal arts. Just because you’re a powerful being does not mean you should be tanking damage!”

His hands fall to your waist. You felt his clawed fingernails dig into your sides. “I will abstain from being so careless next time-”

“Next time?!”

“And I will train proficiently in dodging to avoid this scenario from repeating.” He said it with such determined assurance you couldn’t help but sigh, your eye twitching from stress.

“I suppose that’s the best I can ask for. I’m not even going to bother with ‘be more careful’.” You poked his nose, his eyes crossing to focus on your finger. “But you’re not going into another battle until that wound is completely healed, and you better not try to speed it up! I’ll know.”

“That is acceptable.” His hands circle your waist bringing you into a hug, his head resting on your shoulder, nuzzling the crook of your neck.

You stood between his legs, arms crossed as you refused to hug him back. “I am still mildly annoyed at your recklessness, why do you think you get cuddles?”

“Because no matter how angry they are, my spouse always relents to cuddles.” Morax muttered, almost petulantly.

“You are very lucky this situation was not worse.” You grumble but relent, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and bringing him closer. With his chest squished to your own, your necklace tapped between, you could feel the slow thumps of his heartbeat.

It’s a quiet morning. The surrounding gardens of you and your husband’s abode sway with a pleasant, cool breeze. Flowers tremble, leaves dance. The water rustles ever so slightly, the little fish swimming in slow loops, playfully chasing after each other.

A blanket is spread beneath you, soft and thick, padding your knees and you kneel behind your sitting husband. Your fingers brush through his hair, detangling it from the top of his head to where it falls to his waist. Your hand goes to the pile of little flowers by your side, carefully, you chose one and braided it into Morax’s hair.

He sat still as you continued, flower after flower, until his head looked like an avant-garde mess of petals and intricately woven braids. Thin strands of hair you couldn’t tie back fell to frame his face, softening his sharp, draconic features.

“Very pretty.” You murmur absentmindedly from behind him, and he felt something swell within his chest. A light dust of pink coated his cheeks and didn’t restrain the smile on his lips.

“Stay away from me!” His voice was low, a shaking, snarling, timber. His lips were pulled back over his sharpened teeth, eyes slitted and bright gold. The small horns that normally rested on his head had branched out like antlers, the tips as pointed and deadly as a dagger.

He was crouched over, his hands pressed against the ground and legs behind him in a distinctly inhuman, animalistic position. Brown scales with a gold shimmer came in patches along his bare torso, a whipping tail of similar color with a puff of gold fur at the end sprouting from just over the waistband of his pants.

Something had happened out in the field, what, you didn’t know, but it left your husband stumbling home, unable to keep his cool, practically exploding with rage as he walked through the threshold. At first you were thoroughly startled, flinching when a bang echoed throughout the house and Morax fell to the ground in your living room, writing as if in pain.

Now you stood a few feet away from him, a tight curl in your chest. “Morax, just tell me what’s wrong, let me help you.”

“Get away!” He growled. “It’s an enhancer! It aggravates all my primal instincts as a dragon.” He groaned, his forehead falling to rest against the cool floor. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous Morax! If your primal instincts are being enhanced, don’t you think that as your spouse you’d feel protective towards me instead of angry? The fear of hurting me and the irritation towards the situation are clouding your mind. You need to calm down.” You sit on the ground, your legs crossed, and wave your hands. “Come on.”

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes gleaming unsurely, but relents and crawls over, his claws making little indents in the floors. You hold your arms out and he slots himself in your lap. His head goes over your shoulder, something you’re glad about as it keeps the antlers out of your face, his arms around your waist, and his legs hanging over your thighs.

His breath is heavy, hands shaking, and you know he’s trying to keep any lingering anger under control, trying to funnel the emotion into protectiveness, joy, anything that would keep him from harming you.

You buried one hand in his hair, gently scratching his scalp, and the other went around his waist so you could hold him close. His chest rumbled with aggravated growls and his hands were tense from trying not to dig them into your delicate flesh. “I’ve got you.” You whispered soothingly. “I’ve got you.”

“Sing… for me.” He managed to choke out, his heavy breath hitting your neck. “Your voice… it helps.”

“Morax, you know I’m not a good singer.”

“Please.” You looked down to see his head resting limply against your shoulder, nose pressed to your neck, with wide, blown out eyes. He looked miserable, uncomfortable, and almost… scared.

“Alright, alright.” You tilted your head so it was leaning on his. “My love, my love, my fearless love…”

The dark night sky contrasted greatly with the warmth of your bedroom. Surrounded by dark browns and golds, the warm glow of the candles bouncing off the walls. You and your husbands were wrapped in the heavy blankets of your bed, winter chilling you to the bone.

You snuggled close to Morax, constricting yourself around him like a boa as you attempted to soak up his warmth. But his body was lukewarm at best and it seemed that any warmth that existed between the two of you was being given to him.

“Why are you not warm?” You groan. “You are a dragon.”

“I am a reptile, my love. That’s not how my body works.” Your husband mumbles. His eyes drooping and hair splayed across the pillows haphazardly was a wonderful sight and yet you couldn’t enjoy it as a shiver wracked your body.

Finally, having had enough you got out of bed. Going to the kitchen, you filled several cylindrical glass bottles full of warm water and wrapped each bottle of a thick towel. Carrying them all back to bed, you swiftly yanked all the pillows off. Your husband stayed perfectly still, his breath shallow but even, as you secured the bottles around the bed and then covered them in blankets. After tucking the blankets around the bottles and Morax, you shimmied into the bed yourself, sighing contently when you could feel the warmth from the bottles near your feet begin to sink into the sheets.

Snuggling into Morax, you brought one of the many fur blankets up to his shoulder. “Better?”

“Much.” He breathed out.

With that, the both of you were able to fall into a restful sleep.

A flash of green and black smoke interrupted your reading. Looking up from your book, you saw a man you knew wasn’t as young as he appeared. Green hair falling in feathered cuts, golden eyes sharp and attentive, and the stance of someone ready to fight at all times.

He was at your wedding, looking particularly indifferent about the circumstances, but you had never spoken to him directly. Now he stood in front of you.

“Where is Rex Lapis?” Despite being so small and young looking, his voice was fairly raspy.

“Ask nicely.” You closed your book and set it to the side, placing your hands in your lap and looking at him expectantly.

His cheeks fluttered as he clenched his teeth and his eyes narrowed. He gave a shallow bow and spoke, his tone more agreeable. “I’m looking for Rex Lapis, have you seen him?”

You smile. “He’s not here.” Seeing the Adeptus’ eyes flash you chuckled. “But he will be soon, so sit down. I’ll get you something nice.”

Not wanting to disobey orders from his master’s spouse, he kneeled down in front of the low table, his back stiff and face blank.

You went to the kitchen and grabbed a treat you had been saving for yourself, but didn’t mind sharing. You placed it in front of the Adeptus. “Here, it’s not too sweet. Very pleasant. My mother taught me how to make it when she was still alive.”

Hesitantly, he began to eat, his face still blank. “It is good.”

“Thank you. It’s called almond tofu. You can enjoy it while we wait for my husband to get here.” You kneeled down on the opposite side of the table and once again, picked up your book. The atmosphere was quiet, yet not oppressively silent. The both of you enjoyed the quiet time together until Morax came home and looked upon the scene with confusion.

You cried as your coughed up blood, the thick liquid plopping into the bucket that had been placed by the bed. Your body shook, covered in a thin sheen of sweat as your breath rattled horribly in your chest. You flopped back down on the bed, arms too weak to hold you up and the fuzz around your eyes only growing.

Morax was by your side. His fingers threaded through your hair in an attempt to comfort you. He could only watch as his lover fell apart, watch as their body slowly grew thinner, as they stopped eating or moving or smiling. It pained him greatly to see the state they had been brought to because of this illness. He was only lucky that his Adeptus body was not affected by human illnesses and thus could stay by your side with no fear of contracting it himself.

You rolled over, and even though it felt like it had taken too much energy, and draped yourself over Morax. Despite being sweaty, and at risk of coughing up blood again, your husband didn’t push you away, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close for you to soak up the coolness of his body.

“Morax… Morax… the medicine, when will it be ready?” Your muttering sounded almost delirious, breathy and disconnected. A glaze settled in your eyes.

“Soon, my love. The doctor is saying that this illness is rather difficult to deal with and has to create a new medicinal formula to aid you, but he’s positive that he’ll be able to do it. You’ll be just fine soon enough.”

Clawed hands slid up your trembling legs, slightly digging into the plump flesh. A long, slitted tongue infiltrated your mouth, filling your head with cotton as it explored from behind your teeth to the back of your throat.

Your gasps between kisses were heady and your hands were clingy, nails sinking into the hard contours of his back, his hips grinding against yours. His touch was intoxicating, filling your mind till all you could think of was him.

Even in his neediness, he was gentle, his claws not daring to rip off clothing as he slowly peeled you bare, until you laid before him like a newly bloomed flower. Your face was red, chest heaving with gasping breaths after you had just been kissed senseless. With no time to think, hot kisses, more akin to bites, trailed down your neck, sharp canines teasing you, and you couldn’t but wish they would clamp down and give you a pretty bruise to admire later.

You couldn’t take the slowness. Hooking your knee around his waist, you used all your body weight to flip the two of you over. Now, sitting on his stomach, hands pressing down on his chest, you got a good look at how debauched your husband was. Eyes blown so wide there was only a ring of amber around the pupil. His hair was messy, knotted from your tight grip, and there was a dark blush high on his cheeks.

Your hands trailed all over his body. From his face down to his neck, chest, arms, and pelvis. He was sensitive, you realized, as he shivered pleasantly with each graze of your fingertips, head tilted back, leaving his neck free.

Unlike Morax, you had no reservations about how much your husband could take. While he was constantly worried about harming you with his draconic features, you couldn’t share the same concerns. You sucked harsh kisses to his neck and left your husband mottled with red bruises slowly darkening and little indents from your teeth. A particular bite behind his ear had him moaning, his hands clenched around your waist.

Overcome with adoration, you nibbled on his ear, whispering praises and various forms of ‘I love you’ that had him melting into a pile of goo, a lovestruck smile on his face.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #zhongli x you #zhongli x reader #zhongli #rex lapis #genshin xiao #fanfic #injury #mild smut

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kirans-underland · 29 days

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Azul knows he looks good in his luxe couture. You’ve told him looks good innumerable times. But he still feels that landdweller clothes just.. don’t suit him. The fact the man is insecure is known to both of you. ~ Run your hands down down his arms, and chest. Make a light clicking sound as your nails run over the gems. Gently hold his waist as you shower him with soft compliments of how good that suit jacket looks on him. Kiss his neck at the same time your fingers begin to undo the buttons.

He begins to take off his glasses as he always does when things get hot and heavy. You stop him and lightly push them back onto his face. They look good on him and you make sure he knows that. You want him to *see* how much you love him. You have him look in the mirror so he can see every loving touch you leave on his body. He has a HD view of your hands as they worship his upper body and make their way down to his pants..

@blusherbaker glasses…

#Oops I og posted on the wrong account…#twst #azul ashengrotto #mild smut #twst smut

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dudadragneel · 1 month

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I'm just gonna drop this here and hide....😳

Enjoy!

🦄 Can I request a fic where hyunjin n y/n were supposed to…yk (lol) and she really missed him and waited for him to come back from his trip to Japan so they could have some ✨alone time ✨ but when he comes back theyre in her room and she’s kissing him but he stops her and she gets hurt and thinks he doesn’t want her but he’s actually nursing a bad migraine. Then later they go out to the convienence store cus y/n needs to buy pads or something and it hits him really hard and he starts throwing up outside and y/n realizes he’s really not well. (You can take over from here …)

OF HEAT & PAIN

Having alone time when your boyfriend is an idol, is practically impossible, because of a few factors. They live in a dorm, so no chance you'd have alone time there; going to a hotel was a risky move due to fans and sasaengs. The last viable option was your house, but then again, his schedule was packed, especially now that he was an ambassador for Versace.

You couldn't even remember the last time you two had sex, it felt like it had been ages. To say you two were sexually frustrated was an understatement and he was coming back from Japan in a few days, so you were more than eager, just like him.

The night before his arrival you had called him, telling him to go straight to your house. And so he did.

As soon as they landed, Hyunjin walked in a different direction from the group, earning a few questioning looks.

- I'm going to y/n's.

He had gotten so excited when you called him he forgot to tell the others. And because of that, and the obvious hurry he was in, the boys couldn't help but tease him. Typical men's behavior.

To both you and Hyunjin, the ride to your house felt ridiculously long, each minute that passed was an eternity, only increasing the need to see each other, to feel each other.

You didn't prepare any romantic setting and neither was he expecting it, he just wanted to get to your house as fast as he could and so did you.

Each minute that passed just made the thirst increase in both of your bodies.

When he got to your house he barely said goodbye to the manager and went straight into the building.

You were waiting for him in the living room, anxiously pacing around, heart almost beating out of your chest in anticipation.

When you heard the door lock clicking, your heartbeat increased and you rushed towards it.

The long-haired boy opened the door dropping his bag on the floor and immediately grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him.

You barely exchanged words, your mouths only focused on feeling each other, he grabbed your ass lifting you and you wrapped your legs around him.

He took you to your bedroom, and you never broke the kiss. By the time he lay you down on the bed, his hair was all messy and his heart was beating fast as well.

There was only lust in both of your eyes, you took off his shirt and he took yours and his mouth started trailing every inch of your body, from your mouth, neck, collarbone, chest, waist, and inner thighs.

When he trailed back up and locked his lips with yours one more time, you started to feel him as well as your hands trailed down his back, his chest, his v-line, then reaching his belt and pulling him closer to you.

Not a single word was said, you both just drowned in each other's touch. You pushed him so now you were on top and just like him your mouth trailed his entire body, from his ears, neck, chest, his abdomen all the way to his v-line, you could feel him twitch under your touch and then trailed back to his mouth.

He grabbed your arms and pinned you on the bed, making his body get even closer to yours, lowering his hips so it was now touching your middle and you could feel he was aroused as you.

He kept kissing you passionately and your hands didn't leave the back of his head, none of you wanting this moment to end.

Then, unexpectedly, Hyunjin pulled away from the kiss and sat by the edge of the bed, leaving you with a confused look on your face.

He was so succumbed to lust he forgot the migraine he began feeling inside the plane and now, as the heat inside his body increased, his heartbeat was pulsating inside his head.

He knew his sudden action had hurt you, how could he just back away like this after arousing you so much and being away for so long?

Hyunjin was also taken aback by the way things turned out and left for the bathroom, and you just stood there sitting on the bed, all kinds of thoughts running through your mind. "Did I make him mad? Did I overstep a boundary? Did I get too ahead of myself?" And the worst of it all "Did he find someone else?" You were just frozen.

Inside the bathroom, he grabbed the edges of the sink, gripping it tightly out of pain and anger. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you and he couldn't believe his body would betray him like this.

He took a few deep breaths and looked in the mirror, his expression changed from one of utter lust and excitement to one of immense pain.

After a few agonizing minutes, he came out of the bathroom looking completely different from before and noticing how sad you looked.

He sat on the edge of the bed and took your hands in his, looking at them and not daring to lift his head to look at you. A deafening silence took over the room, mood completely different from before.

- Hyunjin? What happened?

You broke the silence, voice slightly shaky and hurt, afraid of what his answer would be.

- I'm sorry...I-

You swallowed hard not really wanting to hear his answer but then you saw a teardrop fall from his eye. You held his chin in your hands and gently lifted his head.

- What's going on? Why are you crying?

- I'm sorry, honey... I didn't mean to hurt you... It's just- my head, it's exploding.

As soon as he said that, he broke down into tears. He was looking forward to seeing you after so long and completely ruined the mood.

- Oh baby. Don't cry, please.

You said pulling him into an embrace, him wrapping his arms around you and burying his head in the crook of your neck. You could feel his tears in your body as well as his labored breathing, his bare back heaving up and down.

- Sshh...it's okay, it's okay...

You reassured him stroking his hair and kissing him. When he calmed down a bit he let go of you.

- I'm sorry...I soaked your clothes...

He said chuckling a bit, but then winced when a sharp pain stung his head.

- It might be a migraine, baby. Why don't you take some painkillers and then a shower?

- Okay. I'll do that.

- Call me if you feel unwell.

You closed the door and sat down next to it. If he hadn't been feeling this migraine today, you would've showered with him, but the romantic night you two were expecting had to be postponed.

While he was showering you got his bag which he left by the front door and noticed something peeking out of one of the pockets. Even though you two were both at it a few minutes ago, seeing that he was prepared made your face go red.

After taking his bag to your room, you went through some of your stuff and realized you had to go to the grocery store to buy some things that had run out. You were so anxious about his arrival and looking forward to the night that you completely forgot about that.

When he got out of the shower you were waiting for him, wearing comfy clothes and a rather worried expression on your face.

- How are you feeling?

- A little better. My head is still hurting but not as much as before. I guess the excitement ended up making it hurt more.

- You should've told me, baby.

- I couldn't. I was only thinking about you and I didn't even notice.

- Well. We'll raincheck this to another night.

- Of course baby.

He said pulling you in for another passionate kiss.

- Babe, I need to go to the grocery store. Wanna come with me?

- Sure.

- Take the painkillers before we leave.

- ok.

The store was close to your house so there was no need to get the car, it would be a waste of fuel.

You two walked very slowly, admiring the scenery and just trying to enjoy each minute.

The store was rather small, it was the typical neighborhood store run by the same family over the generations and they knew both of you. They knew Hyunjin was an idol but they always respected his boundaries and treated him like an ordinary person, and Hyunjin was grateful for that.

You started looking for the stuff on your list, like cup noodles. You were in the mood for a hot night not cooking, so cup noodles were the best choice.

Hyunjin was slowly walking behind you, his migraine was getting worse than before and the lights were making his eyes sting in pain. And not only that, the pain was increasing by the second and it was affecting his stomach as well.

As he walked, it kept doing flips, swirling around the food he had on the plane. He started to muffle queasy burps and a few of them brought up a small portion of vomit that he managed to swallow, a kind of reflux.

And he thought that maybe, there was a slight chance this was just reflux. But his stomach probed him wrong in a matter of minutes.

You kept on taking things here and there and putting them in the basket and he followed you, hand on his stomach trying to comfort the churning sensation.

Eventually, the walking just worsened his condition. He felt his stomach burn, painful gurgles coming from it, and then his mouth started tasting weird and filling up with saliva. Before his mind could even comprehend what was happening, his stomach contracted sending hot liquid up his esophagus hitting the back of his throat.

He clamped his mouth and ran out of the store startling the elderly couple that ran the store.

You were so focused you didn't notice Hyunjin practically vanishing from behind you.

The old man rushed outside to help Hyunjin while the woman went to tell you what was happening.

Hyunjin was outside of the store, bent over with his hands on his knees for balance as a wet burp brought up part of his last meal hitting the ground between his feet and while you weren't there, the old man kept patting his back.

- Aigoo~

The old lady accompanied you outside and you saw Hyunjin bring up a thin stream of vomit that mixed with the mess on the floor and ran to his side.

- Babe! What happened?

You asked, holding his hair back when he puked one more time and rubbing his back. The old couple went inside to give you some privacy and get some water and tissues for Hyunjin.

His stomach seemed to have given him a break, so he was now still bent over, only spitting out saliva.

- Honey? What happened?

- I don't know...my head started throbbing and then my stomach was churning...

- Oh honey, these migraines always get you huh? The painkillers didn't work then.

- No. It helped just a bit but then-

He was cut off by a queasy burp that was followed by a retch, a productive one bringing up even more of his stomach's contents making him bend over even more. He didn't have time to breathe before another two waves gushed out hitting the floor with a sickening sound.

He was then left dry heaving and retching but nothing but stomach juice came out.

The elderly couple came back holding a bottle of water and some tissues.

- Here, darling.

- Thank you.

You took the water bottle and uncapped it before handing it to Hyunjin who rinsed his mouth and then you wiped his mouth.

- Feeling better?

- Yeah...a bit...

But the effort that his stomach put him through to get rid of his meal, worsened his migraine even more, he felt like his head was splitting open and it was hurting enough to make him dizzy.

- I need to sit...

He said weakly, swaying a little bit but you and the old man managed to steady him and sit him on the step of the stairs. He put his elbow on his knees and rested his throbbing head on his hand.

You sat beside him, fanning his face and rubbing his back.

- Do you think you're gonna pass out?

- No...I just need a minute...

- Okay.

The elderly couple approached you, concerned all over their faces.

- Aigoo~ is everything okay, young man?

- Yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry for the trouble.

- Oh, don't worry about it, love.

- I'm sorry for worrying you.

You said bowing.

- You don't have to. We wanted to make sure you were okay. You always drop by, of course, we care about you.

- Thank you. He's got a bad migraine but he'll be alright in a few hours.

- Drink a lot of water and get plenty of rest, young man.

- I will. Thank you.

The elderly couple went back to the store to get the things you were going to buy and gave them to you.

- Oh! Thank you. Baby, wait here, okay? I'll just go pay.

- There's no need to right now, darling. You need to take care of him first, you can come back later.

- Are you sure?

- Of course. Go on! Have a great night and get better soon, young man.

They entered the store and you were left with Hyunjin who was still sitting down, trying to make the dizziness go away, or at least decrease so he could stand up and walk back home.

- Here, drink some more. Small sips.

You said giving him the water bottle and sitting beside him, tucking his hair behind his ear.

- I love you, baby. I'm glad you're back.

- I love you too, honey. I'm home.

After a few minutes, Hyunjin felt well enough to go back home but you decided to support him anyway. You knew his migraines were no joke and that anything could happen on the way home, but thankfully nothing happened.

His head was still hurting but not as bad as before and as you two were walking, the moonlight was shining bright.

You stopped to admire the view, holding each other's waist and just feeling each other's presence.

Hyunjin took out his phone and took a picture of both of you and the moon, wanting to register this simple yet meaningful moment.

When you got home, you made sure Hyunjin ate something before he slept because feeling hungry on top of feeling nauseous was a horrible combination.

But his head was still hurting and affecting his stomach and a few minutes after he was done eating, his stomach wanted to get that out.

You were on the couch when he got up and rushed to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

He went directly to the toilet where he ended up puking his dinner and you could hear retching coming from inside.

- Hyunjin? Is everything okay in there?

You asked knocking on the door.

- Y-yeah...I'll be out in a minute...

He responded and then threw up again but after the second bout, he was feeling better, relieved.

He rinsed his mouth, washed his face, and walked out of the bathroom.

- Did you throw up again?

- Yeah...but I'm feeling better now.

- Really?

- Yes. I think I got everything out.

- Well then. Let's just chill, you need it.

Thankfully, your house had a balcony, that you decorated with such care, it looked like a magical place. There were plants, lights, and a couple of paintings Hyunjin gave you and you cherished them with your whole soul.

You took him to the balcony and lay down on the big swing, motioning him to cuddle you, and so he did.

Once he was in your arms, he felt his whole body relax, a feeling he so much needed.

- I'm sorry for today...

- You don't have to.

- So...wanna pick up where we left off tomorrow?

- Only if you're feeling better.

You said, flicking his nose and then kissing him.

Both of you were still lusting for each other but that could be dealt with later, right now you both just wanted to feel and enjoy the cool breeze under the moonlight.

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lonelyparty · 7 months

Text

shifted

a fic in which geto suguru is your brother's best friend

wc: 2.3k

18+ // minors dni

cw: nsfw, toxic geto, toxic reader, toxic relationships, smut, very light nanago in the middle, degradation, choking, gagging, lots of tears and drool, creampie

If you had to describe your big brother’s childhood best friend in ten words or less you’d say the following: He’s a slick asshole, kinda insane, but hot as fuck. If Geto Suguru asked, though? You’d just list off all of the qualities that should negate the fact that whenever you look at his face you just want to sit on it, but in fact just makes it that much harder.

“Remember when we were younger and you insisted that the two of you were going to get married and have 10 kids?” your brother asked as the three of you reminisced about your childhood while sharing a blunt.

Geto turns to you, half lidded eyes red and smug, “Yes, remember that?”

“I was 5? At that age I was still believing in the easter bunny and laying traps for tooth fairies,” you roll your eyes.

“You were always such a freak,” Geto teases, smoke falling from his nose as he laughs.

Your eyes catch on to the small bite in his lip that he adds at the end. It almost has you wanting to screw him on the balcony of your shared apartment. You didn’t, of course, your brother was there.

“Only in your fantasies,” you snarl, snatching the blunt from his fingers and taking a hit of your own. You pass it over to your brother after a couple of more hits. He doesn’t seem to pay either of you any mind, staring up in space like the usual 5-blunt smoke out the three of you do once a week.

He bites the tip of his tongue, before shaking his head, “I don’t think so. You’re nasty, aren’t ya? Filthy even?”

The desire in your stomach pools. You’re reminded of your brother as he reaches over to hand off to Geto again. Geto’s eyes remain fixed on you as he inhales with a satisfied smirk. You’re calling upon the God you may or may not believe in to get the strength to not climb him like a tree.

You lean over into his personal space, taking the blunt that Geto offers to you. You lift your hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. You inhale, ghosting the hit before leaning in.

Geto looks confused for a bit before your lips ghost his, blowing the smoke down his throat. He’s inhaling before he even knows what’s going on. His body stiffens, eyes moving to look at your brother who’s passed out in his bean bag. But you can see it still, the hunger. Something the both of you share. But you’ll be damned if you gave this prick what he wanted without a little work.

When he tries to press further, you lean back. A small smile forms on your face at his confused expression. You chuckle at his expense, and pout.

“Guess you’ll never know,” you replied innocently, using the ashtray to snub out the roach. You stand from your seat and wave, “Goodnight, Suguru.”

Geto can’t recall when the shift occurred. You were always a brat; the way of acting never changed. But his feelings about your behavior definitely took a turn. Behavior that once boiled Geto’s blood in anger is now pumping a different kind of feeling.

It only got worse on your 21st birthday, with Gojo as his catalyst.

Geto wouldn’t call himself a jealous man, but there was something about the way you spoke to him. All sweet with bright smiles. Coupled with the fact that neither of you could keep your hands to yourselves.

Okay, the previous statement was definitely a lie. He may or may not have ruined your chances with other people to ensure nothing… intimate was going on with you and whoever else. Making sure to always be around in your shared apartment with your brother. Giving dirty looks and smug comments. He’s just very fortunate that your brother travels for work in that aspect.

The difference is, Gojo is only here because of Geto. He extended an invitation for him to tag along at the club for your birthday, So, it’d be quite telling, even to your slightly inebriated brother, if Geto created a small rift in the middle of this club just to get that blue-eyed bastard to leave you the fuck alone. Though the strength continues to leave him the longer your hand lingers on Gojo’s slightly exposed pec.

When Gojo finally tears away from you to go bother the only person in the club that he actually knew, Geto’s eyes narrow slightly. And the closer he gets, the deeper the deeper his eyebrows furrow.

“What?” Gojo inquires innocently.

“What?” Geto mimics, mocking him. He tilts his head to the side, staring at Gojo’s lips. His eyes squint in the dim, strobe-lit nightclub they’re in. “Your lips?”

“I think it's Fenty,” Gojo answers, wiping off the excess gloss on his lips. He laughs at the look that must reflect in Geto’s eyes. “What? If you were trying to kiss as many people as you possibly can to beat a personal best, I’d offer the same to you.”

“Oh.”

“Oh that’s right…” Gojo looks over his glasses, expression smug, “She made sure to let me know that you didn’t know that.”

Geto doesn’t incite a reply. Instead, he makes his way through the crowd. His eyes find you immediately, making out with one of the girls from another party group. It kind of makes sense now, the birthday sash and tiara. The purple, cold-shoulder dress you wore. You dressed to have all eyes on you. To kiss everyone.

Everyone except him.

As he approaches, your eyes meet him through the light. He can see the hint of a smirk in your eyes as you continue to make out with your latest conquest. Geto thinks he saw the person you’re making out with at your apartment a few times. Probably a project partner of some sort.

“Thank you for being such a good sport, love,” you smile, hugging them.

“Yikes, ‘good sport’. You probably didn’t hear that growing up a lot, did you?” Geto questions, making a point to walk in between the both of you. He hums, “At least you know when you get hungry, you have leftover lemon pulp in your teeth.”

Your jaw drops as you watch your classmate leave. “Geto, what the fuck-”

“I think I’m owed a kiss?”

You scoff, immediately tuned in to the station he’s on. “So it’s true what they say when it comes to the both of you. What’s yours is also mine and some other bullshit?”

“This was never about Gojo.”

“No,” you answer, releasing a few buttons on his shirt. You lean forward, hand cupping his face. Eyes hidden behind lashes, you tilt your head, “But he’s another major turning point. Remind me, how long ago was it since you watched me?”

Everything that you do is calculated. From a young age, your family members would say that you had a way of getting what you want. Manipulation is the most common word for it. It’s your greatest asset.

And that is exactly why Geto is attracted to you. You know it. He knows it. Even your brother knows it. It could be said that there’s something wrong with the both of you since you’re the same person. The main difference is your tactics. And that’s why yours is so effective.

Geto may not be able to recall when the shift in your relationship occurred, but you can. Because you planted that seed a long time ago.

It was the day of the very last time you said you’d marry him, when he graduated high school and moved on to college with your big brother. There was no way an 18 year old would pay attention to a 13 year old, so you waited. Luck was on your side that the next time you saw him, it’d be two years later.

My little sister! The worst words to greet your future wife after not seeing them for 2 years. But you were 15, you understood.

Your plan really kick started after you turned 18. When you had time to perfect your craft during your teenage years. Watching Geto for so long, you were bound to know what he likes and dislikes. You grew up in each other’s faces, it was inevitable.

But the years of pent up rage from being referred to as a ‘little sister’ left you with a grudge that you couldn’t scratch. So you did what anyone else would, and started getting on his nerves even more. Punishing him with sharp words, carefully placed innuendos, and sensual touches.

All in the hopes of getting him to absolutely ravish you.

And just when you were going to give up on this idiot for truly thinking your brother gave a single fuck about what went on between the two of you… something amazing happened when Geto fucking Suguru watched you get fucked by a classmate through the crack of your bedroom door. The both of your eyes fixed on each other, and a significant change in your enthusiasm as he watched you get fucked by another man and you knew.

You had him where you wanted him.

Geto’s eyes move from your face to your brother’s figure at the other end of the club. He looks to be ready to head out soon, wrapped around his long time girlfriend. He tracks down Gojo and isn’t shocked to see that he managed to drag Nanami here as well. The younger male looks apologetic to everyone as he practically drags Gojo out of the club. There’s something in the way that Gojo looks that reminds Geto to make fun of his useless pining because the blond is as smitten with Gojo as Gojo is with him.

Realistically, he knew that because of this, Gojo was never a threat. None of them are, if he’s being honest. Geto knows and he knows that you do, too. The rules of the crazy game the two of you created in your minds would have a good majority of people ready to just call it quits. But Geto will be damned if he had to endure another three fucking years of this torture.

So, instead of playing along, he instead grabs you by the throat. Your smirk is gone when his fingers force their way into your mount, thumb and forefinger holding your tongue to effectively shut you up.

“This is what’s going to happen,” Geto says casually. His eyes move to the crowd as he leans forward, “I am going to offer to get us an Uber to my place. Use a lame excuse of giving those two their privacy at your apartment. In the meantime, you will behave yourself. If I so much as see you breathe at someone else in any other way that isn’t friendly, I won’t feel inclined to be nice.”

He makes sure to emphasize his points with a firmer grip on your neck with every important word spoken. Your would be moans trapped in your throat where in his grip, words and shear attitude has you speechless for the first time in a long time.

“It's my turn now, baby girl.”

When you retell the story of your 21st birthday and someone asks what happened after you left the club, there will be a 30 minute gap between your departure from the club and the current position Geto has you in. And it’s not because your night is forgetful, but only because you’ve lost count of how many orgasms he’s given you.

The second the both of you walked into his apartment, he ripped off your birthday girl sash, tossed your tiara to the counter and literally tore you out of your dress in anticipation. By the time you reached your third orgasm in his fucking hallway by his fingers alone, you knew this was everything you had hoped for.

And Geto wasn’t done, no. He was far from it.

Because when he finally got you into the bedroom, the intensity increased again. Your jaw hurts from how roughly he fucked his dick down your throat. Your make up effectively ruined. The only thing that remains untouched by those sinfully thick fingers being your hair and that’s only because you behaved yourself so well in the club.

And when he finally fucked into you for the first time? Well, it felt like everything fell into place perfectly. He is rough. Fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you up, down, backwards and sideways.

“Shit!” you gasp as you come undone once again, gushing around Geto’s cock again because there’s nothing that he can’t fucking do. He remains rock hard in your depths, slowly down to a stop to give you time to catch your breath again. “Oh my god-”

He tsks, “I thought I told you to: Shut. Up.”

One of his hands leave your waist to your mouth, where he shoves his fingers into your mouth like he did earlier. Except, this time, he’s taking satisfaction in the way you choke around his fingers.

“Much better,” he hums, pistoning his hips once again.

You moan around his fingers, drool now mixing with the tears on his pillow. The sound your pussy makes is obscene. Never have you ever been so wet for… anyone to be honest. And as his thick cock continues to fuck into your g-spot like his life depends on it, you come to realize that this is the best birthday ever.

“Let’s go for one more, yea?” Geto questions when he feels your walls clamp around his cock once again. He knows you can’t respond with three fingers down your throat effectively shutting you up. But he continues, “Show me how nasty this pussy gets.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your stomach twisting and turning yet again. In the back of your mind, you register just how sloppy Geto is getting. He’s close, too.

When his fingers exit your mouth to play with your swollen clit while the other moves to your breast, forefinger and thumb rolling your nipple hard, you lose your mind. The floodgates open, and, for the fourth time tonight, you squirt. And this time, Geto cums alongside you, fucking his seed into your depths with a grunt.

a/n: abrupt ending bc i deadass couldnt be bothered, but be on the look out for a pt 2 🙈🙈

261 notes · View notes

licorice-tea · 3 months

Text

The Way Things Go

Pairing: Kaku x reader

Content: strawhat reader, kaku calls reader “miss”, mild smut/ implied smut, sexual innuendoes and things, huge spoilers for water 7 and enies lobby!!!

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: probably 2-3 more parts after this one… but idk yet… he’s so sleazy actually and i’m OBSESSED. anyway hope you enjoy! oh and if you want to be on the taglist (for this one or any other fics of mine) i have a post about it linked on my pinned!

Part 1

As promised, you meet Kaku in the small harbor where the Straw Hats hid the Going Merry when you all first arrived to Water 7 earlier that day. He’s already there when you arrive, and praises the craftsmanship of the ship from a distance. You answer all his questions about the ship- or as many as you’re able to, at least. Which brings about the question of “Who takes care of the damages?” so you have to explain how you haven’t really been able to get any repairs as long as you’ve all had her.

The two of you board the Going Merry, only to find Zoro “sleeping.” He cracks an eye open as the two of you walk by and almost says something to Kaku, who’s a stranger to the swordsman, then sees you and simply shrugs before dozing off once more.

Kaku observes certain parts of the ship, like the mast and even the floorboards, eventually having assessed nearly every area of the deck. Then he asks you to show him below deck, which you do, and give him a tour of the various rooms. He mainly just checks out the port windows and things like that, until you’ve gone through every room in the lower levels- well, all except one. When you reach the end of a particular hall and then turn back without letting him in to the room behind you, he points and asks, “And what might that room be?”

“Oh, that’s just my room.”

“Ah… I’d hate to intrude but, I do need to see all of the ship.” He doesn’t. He already knows this vessel is past the point of no return- it’s a miracle it’s even floating on the water right now. However, Kaku doesn’t want to tell you that quite yet. He’d hate to disappoint you and…. ruin his chances. Plus, he’s a little very curious to see what your room is like.

“… Um, just give me a second then, ok?” You excuse yourself into your room, and begin tidying up at a shocking speed. It’s already pretty neat actually, but you still go around the entire room making sure nothing is out of place. Once you’re sure there’s nothing lying about that shouldn’t be, you open the door to find him leaning in the frame. “Sorry about that, you can come in now.”

“No need to apologize, miss y/n. Kaku slips past you into your room- “Gosh, what a treat!” he thinks. Like this little glimpse into your private space is really a view of your mind, too. He makes his way over to the port window in slow strides, taking the opportunity to look at all of your little trinkets and decorations.

“Nice place you’ve got here.”

“Thanks… I don’t usually bring guys straight to my room on a first date.” You mean it as a joke, but he takes it in full stride.

“Oh yeah? I guess I should count myself lucky then.”

“I… mhm.”

Kaku laughs, “So, maybe I’ll get extra lucky later on. “

“Sorry?”

“Don’t be.” He looks over at you, pausing his inspection of the port window and how stable (?) it is. “Just joshing you, miss, I should be the one apologizing for my… crude joke.”

You shrug and mumble under your breath, “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Oh?” He walks closer, trapping you in the space between your bed and the wall and himself. It’s barely enough room for one person to stand in if they’re perpendicular to your bed, since it’s just a narrow space. (You have a sort of rational fear of waking up to water leaking through the wall and straight onto you and your sheets, so pushing the bed out a bit was a natural solution.) “Not a bad idea, or not a bad joke?”

“Not a bad-“

He cuts you off with his lips on yours, it waiting to hear your reply. Kaku wants you, and he knows he won’t get much time with you between everything that’s about to go down with CP9 (unbeknownst to you.) It’s sudden, and already quite deep right off the bat. His head is tilted more than a person usually would tilt their head upon entering a kiss to compensate for the length of his nose, but he’s anything but embarrassed- so long as it brings him closer to you and faster, it’s worth the strain on his neck. You would giggle if you weren’t so caught off guard by how he seems to overtake all your senses in mere moments. As proof of the shock to your system, the immediate closeness of the kiss leads you to open your lips in a slight gasp. Kaku sighs contentedly before sucking at your bottom lip, and you to hum in surprise. His hands find their place on the small of your back, and the tips of his fingers travel up and down your spine. You accept him, letting him continue sucking and smothering your lips with his while throwing your arms around his neck. It’s all happening very fast- but you like it.

After a few moments he pulls away, breathing heavily with a thin line of saliva still connecting your lips to his. He swipes it away by brushing his thumb over your lips, and wiping it off on the side of his pants (though still holding around your back with one hand.)

“What-“

“I hope you’ll excuse my-“ he pauses due to his panting, “rushing into things.”

“Y-yeah it’s fine, I was just…” his lips ghost over yours once more, so close you can feel his breath fanning over your skin. “Surprised.”

This time, you’re the one to close the distance and tighten your arms around his shoulders. There’s an underlying sense of need, somewhere deep within you, that hadn’t been there when you’d first walked onto the ship. No, it was his actions and words- the way he looked at you now with such a want in his eyes- that caused this. Of course, you’d already been attracted to him, but you certainly wouldn’t have been the one to make the first move like he had so early on. Yet here you are, making out with a man you just met earlier in the day.

But then you feel his knee slotting itself between your legs, and whine before you come to your senses. You push down his thigh, “We can’t.”

“Mmph- why not?”

“I just met you.”

He chuckles, though it’s more evident in the shake of his shoulders than any audible laughter. “That would be a mighty fine reason.”

“Yeah… I- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, y/n. Is it ok if I just call you that?”

You smile and nod. Two seconds ago his tongue was in your mouth, now he’s asking for permission to drop formalities- funny guy.

“Well, y/n, I don’t know how long you’ll be in town for, nor how busy I’ll be with work. I want to make the most of this time together.”

Kaku had known this was a bad idea from the start, in all honesty. But when Robin begged Spandam for safe passage for her crew-her friends- out of Water 7, and he’d seen your bounty poster along with the others, he was “struck by Cupid’s arrow.” And getting to meet you in person by coincidence was even better. He had fallen hard and fast, and now he wanted to keep things moving that way before you were gone from his life forever.

However, in fear of making you uncomfortable, he pulls away. Kaku makes it all the way to the other side of the room before you do something that surprises even yourself. You grab his wrist and walk backwards to your bed again, this time lowering yourself to sit on the plush comforter.

His hand interlocks with yours as you let yourself fall back completely. “You… are you sure, y/n?”

You nod. “I’m sure.” And, like the comedian you are, ask “Why? Do you not want to anymore?”

Kaku’s eyes roam over your body, all laid out just for him. His fingers trace your side and come to rest on your hip, giving you a gentle squeeze. “N-no, I want to. I want you.”

With the hand he isn’t inadvertently pining to the bed, you draw his face closer to yours so you can kiss him again. He exhales shakily and all but climbs on top of you, slotting his knee between your legs once more.

You pray, for Zoro’s sake above deck, that he isn’t too loud a lover.

Taglist: @imaginarydreams

#fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece #x reader #kaku x reader #op kaku #kaku one piece #kaku #fluff #mild smut

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blueberrypancakesworld · 1 year

Note

I have two ideas I can't get out of my head !!

1: Eddie Gulskin with a hypersexual darling !

2: Sitting on eddies face like omggg

😳😳😳

Thank you for the request/ideas dear anon. I just continued to explore the two things a little further and see what comes of it. I still hope you like it ;)

warning : smut (nothing graphical but still)

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

1. Eddie gluskin with a hypersexual darling i think initially it wouldn't really stand out in the relationship. Not something because Eddie is too busy building a cot, finishing the room or furnishing. No, because you two are sleeping together so much right now, he would hardly notice. But the more you catch yourself moaning his name and just can't get enough. He is blown away. ,,Oh darling...I had no idea your love for me was so lustfull" he purred as he found his partner lying naked on the bed. At first he had only heard a few rustling sounds of fabric before he had gone into the room for fear that she would have hurt herself, as he couldn't make out the sounds at first. But when he saw his darling lying there moaning, cheeks flushed, murmuring his name. He loves it because not only does it fit that his darling feels the same love so often, but they could also start a family very quickly. He clearly loves it. In his eyes, there is no such sickness in his darling and any self-doubt or problems that might arise he would simply smother with love. His love and care for his darling was the most important thing besides starting a family. He would definitely tell you during any sexual activity how beautiful you are, how proud he is that you share the same love for him. It would only excite him more to imagine what else he could catch his darling doing.

2. Sitting on eddie's face he would love it. I think this is where his loving parent side shines. When his Darling has looked after the house, looked after the children and cooked, he loves to spoil his Darling. Just grabbing his beloved by the hips and pulling him towards the bedroom or the couch. ,,My beautiful wife deserves a reward" he purred as he lay down on the soft ground and pulled you on top of him. First he put you down on his upper body before he saw the embarrassed look on his darling's face. ,,Now all of a sudden shy? Oh darling let me spoil you" he purred before he simply lifted his lover up by the hips and put him on his face. He knew exactly what to do to make his darling moan. While his tongue worked wonders, his hands would only pull you tighter. Holding you by your hips and giving you the reward you deserved. It is one of many ways he shows you his love.

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

#slashers #eddie gluskin x reader #eddie gluskin #outlast #hypersexual #male x female #x reader #smut #mild smut

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demonsanddemogorgons · 4 months

Text

Most Precious Gift - A Joseph Quinn Christmas One-Shot

Just a little Christmas blurb I came up with. Enjoy.

It's almost Christmas and you just aren't in the mood for it without Joe around.

Word Count: 2k

18+ for language and mild/implied smut

It was the day before Christmas Eve, and you were at home getting dressed for your ultrasound shift at the hospital. Joe had been away for about a month for filming his new movie. You missed him beyond description, but you knew he still had work left to do. You walked through the kitchen to your entryway to put your shoes on, completely ignoring the undecorated state of your house. There was no point in decorating since Joe couldn’t be there to enjoy it with you. Your friends kept asking what you were doing for Christmas, and you were tired of responding with I don’t know, probably just stay home. They encouraged you to fly to where you grew up to be with your family since Joe wasn’t home, but you just weren’t feeling it. Spending the holidays without him just didn’t feel right, even if you were still with people you loved. You couldn’t wait for it all to be over so everyone’s cheer would stop making you want to vomit. Scrooge wasn’t half bad; he just wanted everyone to shut up about how happy they were. Holly Jolly was waaaaaay on the other side of the emotional spectrum from where you were.

You headed out to your car and began the drive to work, losing focus, wondering how Joe was doing, what he was doing right now in Malta, how filming was coming along. He hadn’t called or texted in two days; you tried not to be upset about it because you knew he was busy, and it was difficult with time changes. It was just hard being alone for so long and so close to Christmas.

You got to work and tried distracting yourself by indulging in it. If a patient arrived, you took them for their scan before a coworker even had a chance to get out of their chair. After a few hours of this, they began to notice.

“You’ve done like double the number of patients today that is typical, and we haven’t done anything. Take it easy, there’s three of us here today. You don’t need to overwhelm yourself,” your coworker Maddie said to you. You let your lips turn up into a small, not very reassuring smile.

“I’m just trying to focus on something else besides Joe,” you replied, feeling tears well up in your eyes and trying to hold them back.

“I’m sorry,” she said, placing her hand on your shoulder. “Being apart is never easy, but you don’t have to be alone. I’m having a Christmas Eve party tomorrow night. Why don’t you come over? I’m planning drinking games,” she smirked, nudging you with a giggle.

"I really appreciate that, Maddie, but I’m just not feeling it this year. I’d rather just stay on my couch and pretend it’s any other normal day.”

“Ignoring something doesn’t make it go away,” she said, her tone changing. You knew she was trying to be supportive, but you were getting that from everyone lately, and you were a bit over it. You were too emotionally disconnected at this point for anything to make an impact. You nodded and turned back to the computer to finish your paperwork on your last patient, trying to politely signal to her that the conversation was over. “Please let me do the next one. I really don’t want the supervisor asking why you did way more than the rest of us today,” she said as she walked back over to her chair, realizing you just needed left alone in your element.

You finished out your shift after trying to let Maddie and Lexie share some of the work, regardless of your apprehension.

“If you change your mind, the party is at 6 tomorrow at my place,” Maddie said as you were gathering your things and putting your coat on.

“Thanks,” you said somberly. You did appreciate her efforts deep down; it was nice to have someone to look out for you.

You headed home, eager to put on your fuzzy pajamas, fix yourself a cup of hot cocoa and plant your ass on the couch for the next two days. When you pulled into your driveway, your eyes were drawn to the front window where you could see twinkling lights. Upon looking closer, you saw your Christmas tree decorated and lit.

“What the...” you said out loud to yourself, trailing off. What? Who? How? You climbed out of your car and headed towards the door. Once getting inside, you took your shoes off on the welcome mat in the entry way and hung your coat on the hook, making your way into the kitchen. It was decorated with Christmas knick-knacks and tea towels – all kinds of things you had packed away in the basement and didn’t bother to get out this year. You passed through to the living room, seeing the Christmas tree decorated and lit, an evergreen garland lying out over the fireplace mantle with lights strung throughout it, stockings hanging, more knick-knacks set out, a Christmas blanket laid neatly on back of the couch, the works. Your heart swelled at the sight; you could feel that familiar feeling you normally got during the Christmas season washing warmth over you. But who-

Just then in your peripheral vision, you saw a figure pass into the room through the doorway beside the Christmas tree from the stairway. Your eyes changed focus to see Joe standing there, dressed in a Christmas sweater and jeans. It took you a minute to process what you were seeing so you were frozen, staring for a moment as your eyes widened.

“J-Joe?” was all you could muster out.

“Hey, lovey,” he said, making his way closer to you. He put his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. You rested your head on his chest, pressing your face into him as he hugged you. Okay, he really is here. I can touch him, feel him, smell him. You pulled away and looked up into his beautiful chocolate brown eyes.

“Wh-what are you doing here? I thought you were filming.”

He put his hand on your cheek and brushed his thumb along it.

“We got some things done ahead of schedule, so they gave us a break for the holiday,” he responded quietly and soothingly, looking down into your eyes with the most loving look.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re actually here,” you said with a giggle.

“Maybe this will help then, yeah?” he said with a smirk as he leaned in and put his lips on yours. Fireworks exploded in your head. You’d missed him so much, and every time he kissed you felt like the first time. Your lips parted slightly to allow his tongue to enter, running along your bottom lip. You hummed in response, moving your arms up to be around his neck and pull him closer as your lips worked in unison. You pulled away slowly and leaned your forehead against his.

“God, I’ve missed that,” you mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. He chuckled, rubbing his hands on your lower back as he held you close.

“I’ve missed you so much, too, darling.”

You pulled back a little to take another look at your freshly decorated house.

“Did you do all of this?” you asked even though you already knew the answer.

“Of course I did, baby. You love Christmas, why didn’t you decorate?”

You sighed and put your hands on his forearms, running your thumbs over them lovingly.

“I couldn’t, not without you. I hate celebrating knowing you’re working and can’t be here to enjoy it with me.”

He smiled and kissed your forehead.

“I’m here now, love. I was hoping to catch you before you went to work, but my flight got delayed. I arrived not long after you left and saw the house undecorated. It made me so sad, darling; I know how much you love it to be. So, I decided to surprise you.”

You smiled up at him and pulled him in for another hug.

“Thank you. God, I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve everything, my love. And this isn’t the whole surprise.”

You pulled out of the hug and looked up at him in confusion.

“C’mere,” he said, dragging you to the kitchen pantry. He opened the door to show ingredients for cookies. “I thought we could spend the day together tomorrow baking Christmas cookies. I got everything for snickerdoodles, peanut butter cookies, those ones you like with the chocolate kiss in the middle. And for tonight, I got out the electric blanket and some chocolate covered pretzels. I’ll make up some hot cocoa, and we can watch Rudolph and Frosty together.”

Like the Grinch, you could feel your heart growing three sizes at his words. He was bringing the Christmas excitement back into you.

“Joe, that sounds perfect.” You pulled him in for another tender kiss. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you.”

“I love you so much, and I’m so glad you’re home. That’s the best Christmas present I could have ever asked for.”

“I love you, too, darling.”

You looked up at him with a smirk.

“I have to be honest, Joe. I had a Christmas surprise put away for you that I didn’t expect to need, but now that you’re home...” you trailed off as he looked at you with a confused face. “Give me a few minutes. I’ll meet you in the living room.”

“Alright, love.” Joe reluctantly headed for the couch while you ran upstairs. What could she possibly be doing? You were gone for over five minutes when he began to wonder what was going on. He walked over to the bottom of the stairs and looked up.

“Darling? You alright?” he called.

“Yeah,” your voice echoed from the bedroom. “Almost done.”

Joe stood there confused, but his attention was quickly caught by you standing at the top of the stairs, dressed in a red bra and panties with white fluffy borders under an open red silk wrap, matching thigh high socks, and a Santa hat. You’d gotten a Christmas lingerie set to wear for him but didn’t expect to be using in this year since he wasn’t supposed to be home. His mouth fell open a little and his eyes widened as he watched you make your way down the stairs. Once you got to the second step from the bottom, he stood in front of you and looked up at you, as if to worship you, while reaching for you. He wrapped his arms around your thighs under your butt and lifted you to him. You smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck and looked down at him. He placed kisses on your collarbone and chest.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your skin as he kissed, making you shiver. He was reacting exactly how you’d hoped he would. “Darling, I’d like to live to make it to Christmas,” he joked, earning a giggle from you.

“I don’t know, I think you’ll feel pretty alive after this,” you smirked, leaning down to kiss him.

He carried you back to the living room, his lips continuing their work on yours. He pulled away to throw you on your back onto the couch, and climbed down so he was hovering over you.

“I’ve been such a good boy,” he said softly, earning a smile and a giggle from you as he began kissing down your body, unwrapping his most precious gift with extreme care.

My Master List

The two cups of hot cocoa he had made while you were upstairs sat forgotten on the end table as red fabric was tossed onto the floor. Joe managed to bring the Christmas warmth and spirit back into you in more ways than one. You were truly a different person when he was around; he made you better in every aspect – sight, thoughts, actions. You didn’t need gifts to feel loved and appreciated. Joe was good at making you feel that way all on his own. He was the best gift you could have ever received, for any holiday.

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tarjapearce · 9 months

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Lips anon! Imagine the wife rizzing up Miguel at home first for once lol

Miguel is working out and she can't help but stare at his big ol bakery. She sneaks up behind him and traps a handful of cheek in a tight grasp. Miguel jolts and looks to find his horny wife.

They tease each other a bit before she sits down so he can give her a little show. Some silly booty shaking, then some lap grinding, then some serious pussy pounding with her legs wrapped around his waist and hands gripping his ass for dear life lol

A little Magic Mike Miguel? Perhaps 🤭 Mild nsfw under cut.

A grunt. A deep breath.

You watched him as his back flexed and the ripple of his muscles contorted at every move he made. Heavy small weights, lifted like they were anything but cardboard, sweat etched and oozed from the top of his back, his neck and his hair, done in a small manbun.

The sight made you bit your lip. Sometimes you truly wondered how you were able to get a man like him to be with you, date you and marrying you and out not one but two babies in you.

Too good for anyone else but me.

Miguel had told you once you had asked him out of true wonder. He was magnetic. He was now pushing himself up the bar, making the hard lines in his back to sharpen even more. God you loved leaving marks on that back. And he'd proudly wear them.

He was a solid 6'9", And you barely reached his chin. Thoughts of the previous night when he'd wake up, pissed at the thought someone else fucking you, to actually give your guts a bit of a mean arrangement.

Gabi was at school and Benjamin was with Peter, His play dates with Mayday had been incredibly well, and the little toothy mini version of him and you couldn't help but have lots of fun.

And so were you.

Sauntering over him, you squeezed his well defined, bubble like, and firm ass. He tensed and snapped his neck to look at you, a bit startled at the sudden action.

"Hola, nalgón." (Hey bubble-butt) he smirked at your improved spanish. His sweat acted like an aphrodisiac to your senses, clean, a bit of musky, and the remnants of earthy undertones.

You kissed his back, he coked an eyebrow to you, turning to face you, and still your grip on him was steely. Flushed cheeks and clammy hands, slow panting, full blown eyes, staring with hunger at him. a chill running down his spine.

"Hola, cariño" He smiled and pecked your lips. You chased his lips and he obliged with a knowing smirk, hand cupping your chin, a favorite and subtle way to assert his dominance over you, to then give you a kiss that only fed the fire raging between your legs.

He made you sat on the couch and his hands raked all over his chest hooking his thumbs the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Uh-uh" He shook his head, turned around and you couldn't help but smack his ass. A full on loud smack that send him laughing.

"¿Tienes hambre, mi reina?" (Hungry, my queen?) He prowled at your sitting form to then take your hands and place them over his torso.

"Touch me." you giggled at his command and raked tenderly your hands over him. Firm muscle that shivered under your needy touch. His eyes chasing yours. He cornered you between him and the couch. You groaned lowly as he locked your hips with his bent legs, as he sat ontop of you.

His hands took your wrist and placed them above your head.

"¿Qué quiere mi chaparrita? (What does my darling wants?)

It was enough for a single hand to hold your wrists above you as the other one, cupped your chin, making your gaze to lock with his.

"¿Un masage?" (A massage?)

You shook your head. A dangerous thrill invaded your body and you giggled, licking his thumb. He laughed and kissed your lips, but you needed more and he was teasing. Maybe payback for all the times you had provoked him without much advance, and leaving him with blue balls.

"¿Una buena cogida?" (A good fuck?)

You nodded almost too eager as you bit your lip

He hoisted you up in a swift movement, like if all his training was for a specific purpose, to lift you like he would pick a pillow. It paid off in so many ways, specially if he felt particularly dominating and pissed.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, his large hand squeezed handfuls of your generous and plump arse. You hips grind against him, but he smirks. The tips of his fangs baring.

"Let's get some cardio then." He threw you over his shoulder and spanked your ass with the same force you had slapped his before and hauled you to the bedroom

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #💋 anon #atsv miguel #t writes✨#asks and replies #Soccer Family ⚽🕷️#mild smut

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fierypen37 · 6 months

Text

#daenerys targaryen #jon snow #jonerys #fp37fic #jonerys fanfiction #vampire!Dany #bartender!Jon #mild smut

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princessmisery666 · 7 months

Note

Fake fic title: Wild Flowers at Sunset

Summary: Bucky uses an inopportune time to let you know how he feels about you.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: confident reader, Bucky being cocky (that’s a warning), sex work mentioned, prelude to smut, love confession.

W/C: 1,134.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, you, OMC.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

A/N: thank you @justagirlinafandomworld for the inspo (even thought it took a while to kick in 💟)

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch

Graphics: made by me on canva.

Master Lists: Made Up Fic Titles // Bucky Barnes // All The Fandoms

“You’re doing great,” Bucky talks into his glass, taking a sip of the amber liquid that is never going to get him drunk. “Guy’s putty in those beautiful hands of yours.” Though he’s sitting across the bar, you're wearing an earpiece. He has a clear view of you and sees the corner of your mouth quirk up slightly. Then he can’t help himself. “God, this dude is a loser,” he sighs, “He hasn’t even asked one question about you. No wonder he has to pay for it.”

There’s that half smirk again, hiding behind a sip of your Appletini - which he knows you hate - but your date insisted on ordering for you.

“Head of a tech startup company,” Bucky scoffs, “that’s code for I’m a keyboard warrior living in my Mom’s basement.”

You splutter around your glass, and your date, Oliver, has the sense to offer you a napkin. “Sorry,” you say to your date, voice as sweet as your drink, but the finger you use to scratch your cheek flips Bucky off, and then he’s the one laughing.

“Sorry, doll.” Though he really isn’t. He’s bored as hell and knows you are, too. But he signed up for this to make amends, help the police and all the other agencies with letters, and some without, to bring down the bad guys.

That’s how he’d met you, an undercover agent for the FBI. He felt like he’d lucked out when they’d introduced you as his handler. He didn’t like that word, and the grimace on his face must have said as such because you’d piped up - “We’re partners, Mr. Barnes. We have each other’s back. No one’s handling anyone,” you stated, looking directly at your boss. But as soon as you’d turned back to Bucky and winked, “The handling comes after hours,” he knew he was in for a wild time.

This Oliver guy is wanted in connection with a series of missing escorts. Back in Bucky’s day, no one cared about a missing prostitute, but times have changed, and the price has certainly increased. An intimate encounter with one of the ladies from “The Girlfriend Experience” - a very exclusive and high-end escort service - is upward of three thousand dollars for a few hours.

“So, roughly a thousand dollars a minute,” you’d shrugged, smirking cheekily.

“I’d get way more than my money’s worth,” he countered, tongue slipping out to lick at the flirty smile he gave you in return.

You’d sauntered closer, pressed your body into his, and whispered, “Oh, I’d let you take a turn for free.”

So here you are, on a date with Oliver, earning his trust and waiting for him to either A-say something incriminating (which was likely given his affinity for talking about himself) or B-offer you money for sex (a criminal offense).

But damn, this man is a drip. Watching paint dry would have been more entertaining, and Bucky felt deeply sorry for you having to fake a smile and flirt with such a wet blanket of a person.

“Go to the bathroom,” Bucky says.

You subtly shake your head, eyes never leaving Oliver’s, hanging on his every word.

“Just want to remind you, all of this is being recorded,” he grins, sees your eyes flick to his in the mirror, and lifts his brow, silently making his request again.

You look back to Oliver, lean in closer, place your hand atop his on the bar, and gently stroke your fingers along his skin. Bucky can feel the burn on his own skin, the scrape of your nails as your fingers trail higher with every delicate caress. Oliver grins widely. He thinks he’s got you, hook, line and sinker.

But Bucky knows better. “Hey Doll,” he says cheerily, “remember our first date?”

You give him nothing.

“I took you for a picnic on the beach. I wore that blue suit you like, and you wore the lilac dress that hugs you everywhere. I was worried you’d get cold, but I shouldn’t have. By dessert, we were as naked as the wildflowers dancing to the sunset…”

You abruptly hop off the bar stool, “Excuse me, Oliver. Need to use the ladies’ room.”

Bucky knows better than to be smug about getting his own way; he’ll pay for it later in some form or another, but he looks forward to his punishment.

“Pausing comms,” Bucky says, “bathroom break,” for when the brass listens later even though it's obvious what’s going on, but he doesn’t care as he taps the device in his pocket.

He counts forty-five seconds after you pass through the door toward the bathrooms and then follows after you. All three stall doors are closed, but only one of the dials shows occupied. Before he can lift his hand to knock, the door opens, and you yank him inside.

“You’re pushing your luck, Barnes,” you warn.

He surrenders, arms up, palms out. “It was the only way I could get you in here.”

“For what?”

“This.” His fingers pinching your chin are soft, but the kiss he delivers is anything but. He’s famished, as if he hasn’t tasted you in weeks when, in reality, it’s only been a few hours. But that’s how you make him feel. With every beat of his heart, he’s wild and aching and destitute until he has you in his grasp.

The Appletini is still heavy on your tongue, and he washes it away with hungry sweeps of his whiskey-laced one. His hands slip down your leg to the hem of your skirt, hiking it up with every squeeze and grope of your soft thigh.

Your hands roam under his shirt, nails digging into his stomach, before slipping down to the waistband of his jeans.

He holds back a groan when he reaches your inner thigh and finds no more material between his hand and your heated core.

You pull back, a wicked grin revealing your teeth, and as he opens his mouth to tell you that you’ll be the death of him, you stuff your panties into his mouth.

You step back, readjusting your dress, “You can get me as naked as those wildflowers again later.” You wink. “Right now, we have a job to do.”

With that, you breeze out of the door and back to your date.

He waits sixty seconds after you leave, stuffing your panties into his jacket pocket and giving his cock a chance to realize his punishment came earlier than expected before he follows after you.

He settles back into his barstool, catches your eye in the mirror, and the feeling tingles from the very tips of his toes to the top of his head, serenity, calm, absolute, unwavering belief. He mutters, “I love you,” into the coms.

Oliver ends up wearing your Appletini.

Master Lists: Made Up Fic Titles // Bucky Barnes // All The Fandoms

Tags: @alexxavicry / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @deandreamernp / @deanwinchesterswitch / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @foxyjwls007 / @imjess-themess / @justagirlinafandomworld / @katbratsupernaturalwhore / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library / @nancymcl / @stoneyggirl2 / @wildbornsiren / @writercole / @xoxabs88xox / @dempy / @kmc1989

Tags Info - My tag lists are open. Please complete this form. You don’t need a google account to fill it in. Using the form makes it easier to track.

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#bucky barnes #made up fic titles #bucky barnes x reader #reader x bucky barnes #flirty bucky #marvel #mcu #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #fluff #fun #fluffy fun #mild smut #just a smidge

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ten-shi-fandoms · 6 months

Text

Imagine:

You and Gojo are friends way before the Shibuya incident, around the time Geto left so when he told you he was leaving for Shibuya it made you nervous. You and him always had this odd tension. On one hand it was like you and him were a couple. Everyone could see it. The way his teasing attitude changed ever so slightly into something sweeter. The way you smiled wider when he was there. It was obvious but neither of you acted on it until now..

His hands placed firmly on your hips, his lips moving skillfully against your, suffocating you in the taste of sweets. His tongue exploring your as if he was a starved man who needed something to settle his hungry. His lips only moved closer to yours when you tried to pull away for air. His hand slightly tightening their hold on you as you let out gentle sounds against his lips. It was only after he couldn't breathe that he pulled back.

A string if saliva connected you lips to his. Your lips puffy and red, his similar but a bit less bitten raw due to him doing the one biting your lips. His soft pants didn't change his cheeky grin as he put his finger against your bottom lip holding back kissing you once more.

"Does this mean we're more than friends?~"

Author's note: Hi you all! It's been a while hasn't it? I'm super sorry but i'm gonna try to get stuff out for you all and fix my material list since someome brought it to my attention that the links are really working. Please be patient and be ready for fics of all kinds! Welcome home, Blue lock, Danganronpa, and many more!

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amostimprobabledream · 1 year

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Colour in my dark side (Homelander x Goth!Reader)

Blame @blindmagdalena for this, ages ago we were discussing Homelander becoming attracted to a goth!Reader who is indifferent to him and this is what spawned. Enjoy!

It’s hellish hot.

The Con is swarming with people, and your all-black outfit isn’t helping at all. This is not your idea of a good time – it’s loud, bright, every fifth person stinks of B.O, and there’s always some kid shrieking somewhere and you’re hungry. Posters and clips of the Seven are playing everywhere – you’re sure if you did a three-hundred sixty degree spin, you’d be able to see a whole movie play out across the whole venue. Honestly, it’s too much. You’ve never really cared all that much about Supes, to be honest. Sure, saving people’s lives is admirable and they deserved every bit of credit and however much money one paid Supes for doing that. That all made sense.

But all this? The tacky clothing lines and toys and comics? The endless ad campaigns and shitty movies and TV shows? It was all just so much. You had no idea how any sane person could bear it, but then, you were pretty biased in that respect. And every one of the Seven except maybe Black Noir were so not your aesthetic – the cheesy grins and spangly suits made your eyes hurt.

So why are you here?

Because your friend Jen practically begged you to come with her. She’d had tickets for SupeCon for months. Apparently, her sister was originally going to come with her, but somewhere along the way, plans changed, things got confused and she couldn’t make it. Jen promised she didn’t expect you to pay for her sister’s ticket and that she’d treat you to lunch, just as long as she didn’t have to go alone. You’d dragged her to some weird events in your time, so you agreed, if slightly reluctantly.

But now you’re here, it’s exactly as bad as you thought it was going to be. And it’s about to get worse.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe the Seven are finally here!” Jen squeals and bounces up and down next to you, while you stand there watching her in befuddlement. No doubt you make an odd pair to anybody watching – she fits right in and you look like a crow amongst a flock of sparrows.

“I mean, yeah, they are scheduled to be.” You reply, in the most deadpan voice you can muster. Jen usually catches onto your sarcasm very quickly, you’ve perfected the art of saying it subtly, but today she’s too excited and it goes right over your head.

The Seven enter with screams of applause that makes you wince, wanting to clap your hands over your ears. Homelander is in the lead, of course, waving to the crowd and even giving a cheesy thumbs-up. Queen Maeve, A-Train, Black Noir and Starlight follow him, not as bombastic but each of them seem to have their fair share of fans too. You don’t know where The Deep is and it looks like they haven’t gotten around to replacing Translucent yet.

Jen is busy snapping pictures of them as they walk to their booths. Apparently there’s going to be a short Q&A later about whatever movie it is they’re supposed to be plugging at the moment. Apparently this one is a big deal because it’s the first one with Starlight in it, but Jen promised she wouldn’t make you stay for that, thank god.

“God, most people don’t look as good when you see them in person, but they’re all so good-looking!” Jen gushes, bouncing on her heels.

“I guess.” You offer neutrally, trying not to sound too critical because she’s here to have fun.

They look a little uncomfortable to you. Well, it’s hard to get any vibes from Black Noir, to be honest, but Maeve has a just-swallowed-a-lemon face and Starlight’s smile has a nervous edge to it. You read somewhere she used to be in beauty pageants as a kid and it shows when she’s in front of a crowd. A-Train and Homelander seem to be soaking in the attention, though, which doesn’t surprise you at all.

“Omg, hey, look this way!” Jen says, suddenly turning her phone the other way and leaning her head towards yours. “Picture!”

“Ugh, do we have to?” you ask, but you dutifully pose anyway, but you don’t smile. The flash stings your eyes and you blink, hard.

You blink several times, eyes watering a bit, but you manage to prevent them from leaking, which is good because you don’t want to fuck up your eyeliner. Now Jen is staring at the rapidly-forming queue, chewing her lip as she deliberates and you fish your phone out of your pocket and start scrolling through it, absent-mindedly.

“Fuck it, I’m going in.” she says, turning to you hopefully. “You wanna come? I know you don’t really like the Seven, but you could at least meet Black Noir yourself?”

"Yeah, I don't think so." you reply without looking up from your phone. "Standing in line for hours just so some Vought barbie doll can bare their teeth at me and give me an overpriced piece of junk with their name scrawled on it is not my idea of a good time."

What the fuck?

Okay, maybe that was a bit mean - the heat and hunger is making you snippy, but fortunately for you Jen doesn't mind when you're grouchy so she simply laughs at you.

"Say what you want, Morticia, but I'm going to catch 'em all!" she grins at you. "I can't wait to talk to Starlight, she's the only one of the Seven I don't have any hand-signed merch of yet!"

You glance over at where the girl in question is sitting. Homelander gets the end table, obviously, since they're saving the best for last and if there's an emergency, he needs to be able to get out quickly (he's been known to crash through roofs before, apparently, so he's right next to the emergency exit door), but Starlight's on the table next to his. Between all the other members of the Seven there's something fragile-looking about her, with her dainty white costume and the hair in soft blonde waves. You know that's not true; she has to be tough to have been let into the Seven at all.

But...for some reason you find yourself feeling sorry for her.

"She looks so young." is what you end up saying.

“Yeah, I guess? I just wish she’d ditch that hairband; I had one just like it in middle school,” Jen says, shrugging. “Still love her, though! I’m gonna go get in line now!”

You nod, not really paying attention anymore and glance around, wondering if you should bother buying a hotdog or something – can you last another couple of hours before Jen gets you lunch?

“Okay, I’m getting a slushie. Do you want one?”

She smiles and shakes her head, hitching the strap of her bag further up her shoulder.

“Nah, it’ll have melted by the time I’m finished getting autographs. Go on and listen to The Cure or something.”

“Fuck you,” you reply with a smirk and Jen laughs and trots off towards the back of the line, her hair swishing. You’re glad she drove here because she’s going to struggle walking anywhere with all the shit she’s buying.

The line is so long it’s snaking around the room, but the Seven are used to events like this so hopefully she should only be an hour or so. You sigh and dodge a family that nearly steamroll right over you, a mother and father arguing loudly while their kids whine and shriek behind them, the youngest one squeezing an A-Train toy that is already missing an eye. You make a disgusted face as you dodge them – you don’t want their gross sticky hands getting on your clothes.

After buying yourself a slushie that’s so big it’s slightly too large for you to hold one-handed, you dodge endless streams of people until you get to a wall and lean against it. You can’t see any chairs anywhere, which is a shame because your feet are really starting to hurt.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you mutter to yourself, stabbing your straw through the slushie and taking a long, refreshing gulp. A soft sigh leaves you; “Ah.”

At least it’s quieter over here. While you nurse your drink and distantly wish you’d brought a flask so you could put some alcohol in this (you feel like alcohol would make time go by quicker), you get this prickling feeling and glance up, wondering if Jen decided she was too tired to wait.

But no. It’s not her. Instead, Homelander is staring straight at you. At first you don’t register that he is, merely that he happened to glance up in your direction, but after a couple of seconds of his unwavering gaze, it occurs to you that he might actually be looking at you. You glance over your shoulder just in case and relax – there’s an enormous poster blown up to the size of a billboard on the wall a foot or so above your head. He must be staring at that.

Right?

A moment later some guy steps in front of him to get his comic book signed and you can’t see Homelander anymore. Realising you’re nearly finished with your drink, you jolt a bit in surprise – did you drink that really fast or did you just lose track of time for a bit?

Something else occurs to you as you slip away from your quiet spot by the wall and toss your drink.

You really, really want to smoke.

That sounds like a great idea, actually. It’ll get you out of this hellhole for a bit, give you a fix you need and there might be a wall or something to perch on and rest your aching feet. True, you’ll be out in the blazing hot sunshine in all black, but sacrifices must be made.

You send a quick text to Jen and disappear out of there – the venue is strictly no smoking but you’re pretty sure if you nip around the back, there won’t be a problem. You can guarantee some of the stall owners find somewhere to get a nicotine fix, running a stand in a crowded, noisy hellhole like this for nine hours straight.

What you don’t notice is eyes tracking you across the room, and you’ve already rounded the corner of the venue when Homelander stands up and claps his hands, announcing the Seven are taking a quick break and they’ll be right back to finish off the signing, folks!

Cheers and groans swell up in equal measure, but before anybody has any time to protest (though none of the Seven seem to mind this announcement), he’s already vanished through the emergency exit.

Blissfully, you stretch your legs out as you have another suck on your vape. Your instincts were right on the money – you didn’t find a handy wall, but there’s a staff-only door with a couple of stairs that you’ve sat down on. If anybody comes outside, it’ll probably be people working for SupeCon and god knows they probably need a cigarette break more than you do.

Anyway, it’s not like there are any signs back here that say “No Smoking”. An implication is not a concrete rule.

"Smoking's bad for your health, you know."

You jolt and look around, even though you already know who that voice belongs to.

They say famous people always look smaller up close, but in Homelander's case it's the exact opposite. He looks bigger if anything, perhaps it's the way his cape sways importantly behind him or the eagle epaulettes give his silhouette a severe, angular look, but while a few minutes ago you were alone, now it's like you're in a crowded room all over again. You lower your vape.

What the hell is he doing back here? Somehow you don’t think Homelander wanted to get away for a quick nicotine fix before he returns to his adoring public. You stand up, not wanting to be stuck crouching on the steps while he looms over you.

"So." Homelander says, popping his lips. "Not to sound too forward, but I couldn't help but notice you earlier. You, ah, stick out a bit in there, even brooding over there by the wall."

"They do say that, yeah." you deadpan, rubbing your lips together where there's still a lingering taste of your flavoured smoke.

He's looking at you strangely - though Homelander is smiling, there's something flat about it, like it's just something he does while on standby. There's no genuine feeling behind it at all - it doesn't match the look in his eyes, and somehow despite the warm sunshine bearing down on you, suddenly you feel a little chilly. Perhaps he doesn’t appreciate jokes.

His eyes pointedly run down your outfit, and you glance down reflexively too - you're not the only person wearing black in there, but most of the people who are are the ones dripping in Black Noir merch. You're the only person you've seen who isn't wearing any colour or even a hint of Supe gear. Plus you were standing directly in Homelander's line of vision, even if you figured the hundreds of people inbetween you and him would be more than sufficient to hide you. And he'd been so busy dramatically signing every Homelander-related item shoved under his nose that the notion he'd bother noticing a single person in such a big crowd was honestly baffling to you.

Is he coming onto me?

Yeah, right. Homelander, the most baseball games and apple pie person in existence, the All-American boy himself, hitting on a random goth chick?

"Oh?" you reply, wondering where he was going with this.

He tilts his head, looking down at you and you're reminded of a bird of prey staring down a mouse. It makes you straighten your back - you're free to do what you want, and if you don't want to drink the Vought Kool-Aid everybody else here seems to have, what difference does it make to him? It's almost like he's offended there isn't one person here desperate to bask in his presence. It's not as if you've ever disliked Homelander (though he isn't helping his case presently), it's just none of this is you.

"Not a fan of Supes?" he asks lightly, but there's a mocking note in his voice that surprises you. Normally he sounds as rehearsed as those action figures of his. "Does saving lives bore you? Hm? Is that why you came here, to show us all how different and unique you are? Tickets aren't cheap - seems a lot of money for a normal person to spend on not caring."

"My friend asked me to come." you reply, a little defensively, which is ridiculous. Why should you feel the need to explain yourself to Homelander? It's none of his fucking business. "Look, it’s not that I didn’t get in line because I don’t think saving lives matters or anything, I just-“

“You just don’t want to talk to…what was it? Oh, right, a ‘Vought Barbie-doll bearing their teeth at you’?” Homelander says, and shame prickles your skin to have your own words thrown back at you. He steps a little closer and you can smell him – some fancy cologne that probably costs more than your entire outfit put together, plus a sort of woodsy smell like pine trees. You can’t even detect a hint of sweat – apparently sweating is below such beings.

You make a sound, a sort of scoff of disbelief. This can’t really be happening, can it?

“Look, I’m not…I never said I don’t think what you actually do is important. But this?” you wave a hand in the general direction of the Con. “All the pomp and circumstance? Yeah, not my scene.”

“Too bright for your dark tastes, huh?” Homelander says, and is it you or is his voice pitched a little lower than before? It sounds rougher for sure, like stone scraping against stone.

You press your lips together, because can’t think of anything to say to that. It’s pretty obvious he’s not going to be mollified and you’re not apologising to him – if he can’t let go of a little comment made by a total stranger, that’s his burden to bear. You just want to go home. So, you stuff your vape back into your pocket and turn to leave, blowing tutti-frutti flavoured smoke out of the corner of your mouth. You’re tired and hungry and you just want to get out of here and go to lunch.

Unfortunately for you, Homelander seems to have other ideas.

His hand suddenly shoots out and grabs your wrist, tugging your arm out straight, making you stumble forwards – he damn near yanks you right off your feet. He does it so fast you don't have time to react at first, then your eyes narrow in bewilderment.

"Hey-!" you protest, and try to squirm free, but his fingers lock around your wrist. It's like trying to pull your arm out of a steel door and the most insulting thing of all is that Homelander isn't really trying - it's like somebody effortlessly pinching the neck of a kitten to make them go limp. He looks calmer now that he’s caught you off guard, shooting you an amused little smirk. You go still.

"Looks like you're a fan of ink," Homelander says, his eyes tracing up and down the tattoos on your body. Distantly you remember that he has X-ray vision and heat surges to your cheeks - is he-?

But his next words make you go still.

"Since you didn’t have anything for me to sign…I suppose I can make do.”

Easily holding you still just by one arm, he tugs out a Sharpie that was apparently nestling against his hip, held there by his belt, and whips it out, tugging the cap off with his teeth. You catch a glimpse of the side of the pen - it's permanent ink.

"What the fuck-?!"

He ignores your protests, no doubt your squirms are so ineffectual to him you might as well be trying to break down a door with a feather, and he begins writing on you. He's careful not to accidentally tear your fragile skin with the force of the pen, but a shiver goes shooting down your arm as the chilly tip of the pen glides across your forearm, breaking out in goosebumps. You feel like you’re watching this happen from far away, somehow, disengaged from the situation now that you know you can’t run away.

It doesn't take long, only a few seconds, but for you those moments stretch on, elastic as a rubber band being pulled tight before someone releases it. When he's finished, he lets go and you jerk your arm back like it's been burned.

Homelander's autograph is still wet with ink, but already you can see the darker spots being absorbed into your skin - it takes up the entirety of your forearm, written in huge, looping scrawl. You can only stare at it in disbelief - how long is this going to take to wash off? Probably weeks, even if you do scrub it every day with soap or a body scrub or whatever the fuck else you might have to use to get rid of it. You look back up at Homelander, who has already put the pen away. He's grinning at you broadly now, but his fangs are bared and you want to step back from him. You only don't because there's a wall right behind you and you have the perverse thought that looking like you want to run away might excite him.

"You know, I always thought tattoos looked a little…trashy." Homelander confides with a smirk, and his eyes travel up and down the length of your body in a way that would be indecent even without knowing he can see straight through your clothes if he so pleases. "Especially on pretty girls like you, even if you hide it under all that. But I guess it's all about finding ones that suit you best, isn't it? Maybe you can get that made into a real one."

Your jaw drops at the absolute fucking gall. If it were anyone else you probably would have thrown hands with him right now, because who the fuck does he think he is?

But you already know that. He's The Homelander. The best-case scenario is you'd break your hand on him. Worst case?

You don't want to think about what the worst-case scenario might be. You might like dark things, but this is different.

“Well?” Homelander nudges and you continue to stare at him, bewildered. “Aren’t you going to say thank you?”

The air seems to shiver with tension and you nervously lick your lips, uncaring that you’re still wearing lipstick. You’re stalling and he knows it.

“Homelander!”

Before you can even begin to formulate some kind of reply that fulfills the requirements without actually having to say the words, a woman in an absolutely hideous pantsuit comes running up to him and he rolls his eyes, turning to her.

“For fuck’s sake, Ashley, what is it now?” he says, and if he hadn’t just forcefully scribbled all over your skin and demanded you thank him for it ten seconds ago.

You recognise an opportunity when you see one and take that moment to beat it, trying not to run, but in the end you can’t help it, holding your arm to your body like you’ve broken it. You know Homelander is watching you – you can feel his eyes on your back, but you don’t turn around.

As you hurry back entrance hall, you spot Jen, who is now laden down with bags of stuff.

“There you are!” she says. “God, my legs are aching from standing around, but I’m all done! I’m thinking Applebee’s…are you okay? You look a bit clammy.”

“Yeah,” you say, dropping your arm and pressing it to your side. The signature is big, but it’s on the inside of your arm. If you take care to keep it hidden under a booth or against your side, hopefully Jen won’t see it. You don’t feel like explaining how you got it. “Just hungry.”

“Same here. Come on, I think I parked in Bay C…”

You follow Jen out, silently sending up a thanks to whoever might be listening that she’s happy to leave now, that she doesn’t think to ask you any further questions. She’s in her little Supe bubble and you’re not going to pop it. Especially not if you know Homelander can hear you.

Especially if you know he might still be watching you.

“Fuckin’ assholes.”

That was Homelander’s assessment of the day. Oh, he’d smiled for pictures, he’d signed the mass-produced bullshit people pushed at him and he’d answered questions about a silly movie he barely remembered making. Such trivialities that Vought deemed worthy of his time. But anything for the fans, right?

He popped the top off a carton of milk he had awaiting him in his apartment, not even bothering with a glass as he chugged the stuff down, cool and sweet and delicious against his parched throat. As he drank, the one spot of entertainment of the day floated to the surface of his mind.

Namely, the face of that little goth girl when he’d grabbed her arm, the way she immediately stilled when he started writing his name on her skin. For all the weary sighing and under-her-breath snark, there would be nothing she could do about his name branded across her skin like that. It would fade in time, of course, but he got a distinct fission of satisfaction knowing she’d be thinking of him, whether she wanted to or not, every time she looked down at it.

Even if she covered it with black clothes, they’d both know it was there. Like a little secret.

Lazily, almost absently, he started undoing the front of his suit, one-handed, fishing out his already hardening cock. Setting the milk aside, he braced himself against the wall as he started to jerk it in some frantic pumps of his hand, overcome with the memory of her, the whiff of her Vape and the hitching of breath when he touched her. Homelander moaned throatily and threw his head back, imagining how it might feel to put his name on the girl permanently, to ink himself on someone who thought they were o very removed from the world he inhabited – no, not inhabited – ruled. She was just as much something to amuse him as everyone else.

As few more frantic jerks made him come, a hot, pleasing flush after a long, boring day of pageantry and ennui.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, with a smile, lashes casting shadows across his cheeks with his eyes closed in bliss.

Perhaps there was something to be said about tattoos after all.

The water hisses as you scrub and scrub and scrub, foamy white bubbles dribbling down your arm and splashing back into the sink.

Nothing. The Homelander signature is still there, gleaming starkly in the dim lighting of your bathroom. You’ve been working away at it for hours now, but whatever pen he used is apparently an excellent quality one. You're just thankful Jen was too hyper from meeting her idols to notice you were suddenly doing everything one-handed.

But an idea comes to you as you stare resentfully at your reflection, gingerly patting your arm (which is sore now from hours of scrubbing and soaking it) – if you can’t get it off you and you’ll have to live with it for a couple of weeks, the best thing to do seems obvious.

Namely, improve it.

So you hurry into your room and start fishing through your desk drawers until you find it – another Sharpie, one you have ironically brought to gigs with you before for bands to sign if you can get them alone for a minute. But it will serve another purpose tonight.

Tugging the cap off with your teeth, you lie your arm flat on your desk and hover the pen over Homelander’s name.

Very carefully you make your adjustment, grinning around the cap as you do.

A second later and it’s done. The word Homelander is still there – except that the ‘m’ is blocked out with a black star, so now it actually reads “Ho★elander.”

“How’s that one for trashy, asshole?” you mutter to yourself, a surge of petty glee rising up in you like sap oozing forth from a tree, savagely pleased with your handiwork.

As you flop onto your bed, a line pops into your head, and despite what a long, bizarre day it’s been, you laugh and say out loud;

“I went to SupeCon, and all I got was this lousy autograph.”

#Homelander x Reader #Homelander x You #Blogging #Writings #The Boys (2019)#Homelander being Homelander #Mild smut

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