#or risk it all and go out and buy a desk

[jaysgirlx]

living with choso might have just been the best mistake of your entire life. the intended plan was for you to finally get your own place but when you get there the place is in shambles. you got your deposit back when you threatened to get the police involved because the place looked nothing like its pictures.

choso had offered you his spare bedroom time and time again but you couldn't. choso was already such a good friend to you and you just didn't want to impose this on him. but of course, you're not even given a choice to ask him because the moment choso finds out how messed up your new apartment is he's already taken your stuff back to his place.

you're two months in and you realize choso and you had fallen into a pattern. a pattern that you hope won't everbreak. you wake up and choso's already made breakfast for the both of you. he says he's used to it from when he and his brothers used to live together, even though he only makes enough for two.

when you both arrive home from work, you either go out for food or order in and then of course you guys watch movies. "what do you mean you've never seen toy story?!"

"i didn't have much of a childhood, so i haven't seen a lot of movies" he mumbled quiety. for the rest of the night, the two of you had a toy story marathon with tons of snacks (provided by choso of course).

choso knew you loved to snack, so he learned to find your favorites in bulk. anytime you saw you snack on something when you hung out, he would memorize its name so he could buy more. he wanted to make his apartment as comfortable as he could for you. his place was meant to be yours.

sometimes the two of you would fall asleep on the couch together, all cuddled up together. however, it didn't start out like that, at first you would lean on choso's shoulder hoping he wouldn't mind. and eventually, he got annoyed with you just leaning on him and pulled you into his arms. you wanted to protest but you enjoyed it so much that you instead leaned into his body. whenever he'd feel you get comfortable in his arms or his lap he'd whisper "good girl" in your ear. coming from him those words drove you crazy and you wished you could hear them more.

on some nights, after you've both had a long day at work choso tends to carry you back to your room when you fall asleep. he even kisses your forehead and you've caught him doing it and you wish you had the guts to confront him on it so bad but you're happy here. so why risk it?

when choso works late you bring dinner to him and the two of you eat in his office. he always tells you, that you don't have to. that he can bring you dinner instead but when you warn him that you'll nice out he easily shuts up. you guys don't get to watch movies but you do get to talk.

"how's yuji?" you ask him after setting his food on his desk.

"enjoying college life apparently, nobara said they're going to a frat party tonight," he says while chucking.

"do you miss him?"

"why would i miss him when i have you?"

in your mind, there was no way he could've possibly meant that romantically. even after he changed the topic you were still thinking about it, thinking about what he meant and what could be going on in that head of his.

during the weekends, choso spends all his time with you. if you want to go shopping, he pays for everything, buys you lunch, and carries all your bags. he tells you it's in exchange for all the dinners you've bought him even though he's already paid you back for those. and when you get home he helps you try them all and all he can do is compliment you, like you're all his, "these jeans look so fucking good on you, can you only wear them in the apartment? just for me pretty girl?"

and you'd agree to his pleas cause, let's be real you only bought these jeans cause he keep eyeing you in them. and they way he cursed, you knew he wanted you because you felt the exact see way.

maybe living with choso a little longer wouldn't be such a bad idea.

❥ a/n: a little drabble to make up for not posting the college au choso fic yet.

#✩ kleo's kollection ✩ #✩ here's a treat ✩ #choso #choso kamo #choso kamo x reader #choso fluff #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso x reader #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso my beloved #choso x female reader #jjk #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #jujustsu kaisen x reader #yuji itadori cameo #nobara kugisaki cameo

[feralthoughtdump]

Let Me Wrap My Teeth Around The World

Warnings: minors DNI, small age gap (everyone is 18+),  manipulation, love-bombing, possessiveness, social anxiety, the male gaze, financial exploitation, obsessive behavior, ownership, toxic dynamics, moral corruption, smut, virginity loss, coercion, dubcon, dark

Word Count: 4.1K

It’s been a while since Coriolanus found someone as the object of his affection. The last time was a few years ago, and it did no good for him. But this shy, sweet, beautiful Capitol girl was someone who could pose no risk to him and seemed to have wormed her way into the recesses of his mind. 

She was the shy girl in one of his University classes. Rumors circulated about her wealth or lack thereof. She was some prodigy who earned her way into the school through merit rather than money, and it left an open inquiry as to who her parents were. He didn’t know what drew him in. The House of Snow had just regained a semblance of wealth and power, and associating with a girl like her could easily create cracks in the foundation.

She wasn’t wealthy enough to come from a district family who bought their way in, but she certainly wasn’t like the other students who took classes with her. Though she wasn’t wealthy, she wasn’t necessarily poor, at least not as poor as his family used to be, but he could recognize the signs of the consistent repair in her uniform, using the same stitches Tigris would use on his old clothing. It turns out she had come from a family of seamstresses and artists. 

He also learned that she loved pretty things, not just spotting them but making them. Her apartment was always decorated with little knick-knacks and drawings that covered the walls. Coriolanus would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy spending time in her dingy apartment. It was small, run-down, nothing more than a studio with a bed, desk, kitchenette, and a heat pipe that screeches and clangs at the most ungodly hour. But he loves staring at how her brows furrow as she sketches or how she tucks her lower lip between her teeth in frustration. Despite being unable to help her work, she was always happy to have him around. 

This leads him to her small apartment at least once a month with a new pair of pants that were a bit too long or one of his father’s old shirts 

Even though he could afford to have his pants hemmed by a tailor or simply ask Tigris, he prefers going to her. After all, she’s become familiar with his preferred inseam length, and Tigris has become colder and colder towards him. 

He always insists on paying her even if she refuses. 

“We’re friends, Corio,” She said the first time. “You don’t have to pay me.” 

“Just this once, let me take care of you.” He insisted, pressing the cash into the palm of her hand. 

Just this once turned into every single time. Then, it became buying her meals and small gifts. He got her internships with other high-ranking game makers. Eventually, he convinced her that her old apartment was too small and worn down for a nice girl like her, and he moved her into a spare room in his apartment and turned the other into a studio. Then, he started taking her to parties and events she could never afford to go to, and he always made sure to buy her a dress even if she insisted that it would cost less if she could just make one herself. 

When their fellow students would snicker at her, he’d slip poison into their drinks. Never enough to kill them, just to get them sick for a week or so.

Somehow, Coriolanus finds himself taking her under his wing, becoming a mentor to her in some type of way.  She maintained that soft and sweet air about her, but with his help, she became someone her peers respected. Once, she was the girl who made other students in the University roll their eyes because she always tried too hard. Now, she was the girl who had connections and handed in exemplary work. She was the carefully created success story of a middle-class Capitol girl who climbed the ladder with hard work and determination. Now, she could spread her wings and fly, but only as far as he would allow.

With the arrival of winter comes the start of planning another year of games, and the Crane family was more than happy to host a commencement gala. 

This time, he bought her a pretty red dress she eyed in a store window a few days ago. 

The quiet gasp she lets out when he opens the box is music to his ears. 

“It’s even more beautiful in person.” She whispers the fabric pooling in her hands like blood. “I can’t let you keep buying me things like this. I can’t take this.” 

He fights the urge to roll his eyes. She always opposes, with her voice becoming soft, objections and promises to pay him back, tumbling from her lips. But that wasn’t what he cared about. He cared about how she presented herself. He got her internships and dragged her out of that shoebox of a studio apartment. She was a product of his hard work, and he wanted to show it off. “Think of it as a gift.” He smiles, gently lifting her chin to meet his eyes. “You’ve worked hard these past few months.” 

“Corio…” 

“Put it on; we have to leave in a few minutes.” 

… 

She’s stuck to his side whenever they attend these events. Her shy demeanor doesn’t do well in large crowds, and with an endless supply of expensive liquor, Coriolanus doesn’t want her wandering about alone. 

Throughout the evening, she’s been good. Smiling, looking pretty. Saying hello to the people he introduces her to, holding onto his arm, and letting him know when she’s feeling overwhelmed so he can rub circles on her back. 

People compliment her, telling her how beautiful she looks. Pride thumps against his chest. Of course, she looks beautiful. The dress he picked falls on her body like it was made for her. The red is beautiful against her skin, and the fabric drapes beautifully around her hips, showing off her elegant back. 

Eventually, she breaks away from him, needing to use the restroom. But after a while, he realizes something isn't right without her beside him. 

He worries when he can’t see her, and he finds himself rushing through small conversations and pushing past people to try and find her in a sea of people. 

Eventually, he spots her staring at the city's vast expanse, leaning on the balcony's edge. She’s slowly nursing her third glass of champagne in one hand, and the other picks at the cuticles of her thumb. 

That wasn’t a good sign.

“What’s wrong?” He inquires, approaching her with a hand on her back. 

She jumps at his touch, but relief crosses her face when she sees him. The last of the champagne is quickly swallowed, and she passes the empty glass to an approaching waiter. 

“Nothing, really. I’m okay.” 

From the tension in her forehead, he can clearly tell that she isn’t okay. Though he knows she hates it when he pries, he still chooses to do so.

“You aren’t, so tell me what’s wrong.”

There’s a beat of silence, and she sighs. 

“I feel out of place, Corio. I feel like I don’t belong here.”

“What do you mean? Of course, you belong here.”

“Everyone here is just so…” She looks down at her heels, trying to find the right words “I don’t know, I’m younger than everyone, and most of the people here have played a part in the games and all I’ve done is get coffee and print papers for them.” 

Her lashes flutter as if blinking away tears, and he can’t have that. Not here. 

“Hey,” he lifts her chin with his fingers and strokes her flushed cheek with his thumb. “Don’t get all tearful on me. You’re with me. I promise you, you belong here.”

From the frown curling on her lips, his words clearly aren’t working, so he shifts the conversation. “What do you dream of being? What do you want to do?” 

She opens her mouth but hesitates. 

“Promise you won’t think it’s stupid?”

“I promise.”

“I’d like to be a designer.” A small smile starts to cross her face. “A fashion designer with my own line and everything.” 

He could see a future where everyone in the Capitol wore her designs. Or not everyone. She was too good for that. All of his hard work has been put into helping her rise alongside him. If she wanted to do something, she had to be the best. 

“I think you would make a great designer.” Without a second thought, he presses a small kiss to her forehead. “I know you will. I’ve seen your work.”

A giggle falls from her lips, and affection blooms in his chest. Nowadays, he wonders if he could ever love someone. But love is so subjective. He had molded her into someone who would be fit to stand by him as he rose in the ranks. Isn’t that the closest thing there is to love? 

… 

“Here, let me help you.” 

The champagne has loosened her up, causing her to stumble on her feet. She leans against him and laughs when his arm hooks under her knees to carry her past the front door. 

“Such a gentleman.” She croons. “Always taking care of me.”

“It’s what I do best.” 

He sets her down on the edge of his bed so he can bend down to undo her heels. Without much thinking, he gently kisses the inside of her ankle. His eyes gaze up at her, gauging her reaction, and she shyly tells him, “I really want to kiss you right now.”

It’s as if something in him shifts. Coriolanus always harbored an attraction to her. On multiple occasions, he would fuck his fist after their little “tailoring” appointments, thinking about her on her knees, his cock stuffed in her mouth. Ever since she moved in, he’d sneak glances through the crack of her door, catching glimpses of her in stages of undress. He’s never acted upon it. His ego certainly wouldn’t be able to take the rejection, but now that she’s asking him to kiss her with those soft lips and glittering doe eyes, he’s safe to act on his desires. 

He surges forward, engulfing her in his hold. Hands cupping her face to keep her lips pressed against his. His teeth graze across her bottom lip, 

She smells like vanilla and roses, igniting that deep-seated hunger inside him. 

He has always hungered for power within the political spheres of Panem, but right now, his hunger is hyperfocused on her. To own her, to control her. 

He wants her to answer every beck and call. If he were to say jump, she would ask, ‘How high?’ If he asked her to crawl to him, she’d drag her delicate knees across whatever surface she stood on. He wants her to belong to him—mind, body, and soul. 

Their lips are locked together as her hands fumble to remove her dress. Sensing her struggle, he releases her face to help, undoing the ties around her neck. She carefully lets it fall off her body, letting the vibrant red silk pool around her feet. 

“I’ve never done this before.” She murmurs against his lips. “I haven’t done anything past kissing.” 

“Really?” He looks down at her and wants to coo in adoration when she shyly glances away. “No one’s ever touched you before?”

“Just… myself… and this one boy from the academy a few years ago but it was over our uniforms.” She hesitates, and he can feel his cock twitch in his pants. Coriolanus already owned most of her clothing, living space, and future career. It was all owed to him. But her virginity? He can truly make her his. His girl. 

He crawls on top of her, caging her in his arms. 

“I’ll be gentle. I promise.” 

His fingers trace her skin, from the line of her neck past her collarbones, dipping under the white lace underwear that clings to her hips. 

“These are pretty.” He flicks the rosette sewn to the center of the waistband. “Did you wear these for me?” 

“Maybe. I made them myself.” 

She lifts her hips, allowing him to slide them down her legs. They part, creating room for him to slot himself in between her knees. Her hands reach to remove his shirt, but he bats them away. 

“Just relax. I’ll take care of you.” 

As he unbuttons his shirt, he observes the way her chest rises and falls, how her lips are parted, and how her tongue darts out to lick at her lips in anticipation. 

His fingers push past her lips, pressing down on her eager tongue, already swirling over them. 

“Get them wet. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Her eyes close as she sucks on the digits. Saliva pools in her mouth, dripping past the corners of her lips. 

They are released with a pop, and Coriolanus groans, the strain in his pants becoming unbearable. 

Two of his wet fingers slide between her folds, teasing at her opening. A gasp slips past her parted lips at the feeling of his fingers pushing in. It was torturous how he managed to curl his fingers just right, eliciting a stifled whine from her lips. She pulls her hips away, overwhelmed by the stretch and the growing pressure inside of her. Though he knows she’s fingered herself before, his fingers must feel foreign, better than what she can do for herself. 

He pushes a third inside of her, opening her up, and he can feel how she flexes around him. She wraps her fingers around his wrist, trying to pull his hand away, but he persists, continuing to curl his fingers against that spot inside of her.

“Don’t fight it.” He demands, pistoning his fingers. “I’m just trying to make you feel good.” 

Her gasps and whines eventually turn into moans. She clenches around his fingers and bucks her hips forward as if her body is begging him for more. 

“I think,” She arches her back, and her voice becomes gaspy as if fighting to fill her lungs with air. “I think I’m close.” 

“Already?” He spits onto her clit and presses his thumb against it.  Electricity surges through her body as he rubs it in slow circles. She watches him with parted lips and shaky breathing as he fuels her oncoming orgasm. “Oh, you’re making this too easy for me.” 

Her head is thrown back, and a strangled moan falls from her lips—sticky arousal floods around his fingers, and her walls spasm around them. 

“There you go.” He soothes, pressing kisses to her cheek. “That feels good, huh?” 

She’s laid out on the comforter, chest heaving and skin flushed. Coriolanus grabs his stiff cock through his pants, trying to ease the growing tension. But he decides he can’t wait to give her a break. 

Her ears perk up at the metallic clink of him undoing his belt. 

“Corio, I- I don’t think-”

He shushes her with a kiss. 

“It’s alright, you can take it. Yeah? Remember what I promised?” 

“That you’d be gentle.” 

“That’s right.” He kicks off his pants and frees his cock from the confines of his briefs. “I’ve always been good to you, haven’t I?” 

She nods in agreement, eyes widening at the size of him. 

He licks his lips as he presses the tip against her cunt, slowly easing his cock inside of her. 

As he sheathes himself inside of her, he presses her thighs to her chest, forcing himself deeper into her warmth. 

She lets out a sharp cry and grabs his waist, trying to push him back. 

“You’re too big, Corio. I don’t think you’ll fit.” 

He hurries to kiss away her complaints. To distract her from the pain. He couldn’t wait. He needed to feel her. He needed her. Whispering against her lips, he soothes her. “You’re okay. I’ll go slow. Yeah?” 

Broken moans fall from her lips as he bottoms out. He groans in pleasure as her fingernails dig into his back, scrambling for some kind of purchase. She was so tight, so wet, and so warm, gripping onto him like a vice. 

Very carefully, he rocks his hips back and forth, letting her adjust to him. The sounds she makes, combined with the slick squelch of her cunt are obscene. Even with his slow movements, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to last long. 

He drops his lips to her neck, teeth grazing the fragile skin before biting down.

“Ah- please, don’t leave a mark.”

Disregarding her words, he sucks a slowly blooming bruise onto her neck. He doesn’t care if it’s dark. He wants people to see it and know who left it there. 

Maybe he does love her, he thinks. He loves how she complements him, her sweetness dampening his harsher attributes. He loves her creativity, her ambition, and how she always hungers to better herself. She’s perfect. She could be more than just a designer. She could be influential, a figure in the history of Panem. 

“I have an idea.” He hums against her neck, stilling his hips.

“Yeah?” 

“I want you to be part of the games.”

“What do you mean?” She impatiently shifts her hips, trying to get him to move again. 

“You can be a…” he pauses to think, looking into her blown-out pupils, “a stylist. You can design the tributes' looks for the opening ceremony and the interviews. Maybe we can implement uniforms for the actual games.” 

She pulls back, but he keeps her locked in place, hands grabbing at the flesh of her hips. Her eyes no longer look glazed over with lust. Instead, there’s a flash of clarity within them.

“No.” 

“What do you mean, no?”

“No, Corio.” Her voice is firm. She has her mind made up. “I won’t do it.” 

His lust begins to mix with anger. She can’t deny him. Not now, not ever. Not after everything he has done for her.

His hand reaches for her chin, and she whimpers. 

“Yes, you will because I’m not asking.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” She struggles against his hold. “You don’t own me.”

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you,” He snarls, fingers digging into her jaw. “I gave you this life, and I can easily take it away from you.”

“Let go of me, please.”  

Earlier promises of being gentle are tossed away. She’s beginning to let out pained squeaks from the pressure on her cheeks, and the hand on her hip digs into the soft flesh, creating red divots close to drawing blood. 

“Look at all that I have given you. All of your nice clothes and these fancy internships were because of me. Without me, you’d be freezing to death in that shed you used to live in.” He pulls his hips back and slams his cock back into her dripping cunt, eliciting a cry from her. “I made you who you are.” He cruelly bullies his cock into her, picking up his speed every time her hands weakly try to push him away. “All you have to do is be good for me, and I’ll give you whatever you want.” He forces her to look at him, to stare into her glassy eyes. “Are you going to be good?”

She doesn’t reply, or rather, she can’t. All she could do was strain against him with dark, mascara-stained tears rolling down her cheeks. 

Those eyes that once gazed upon him with fondness are now filled with fear. 

“Are you going to be good?” He punctuates his words with a hand to her throat, giving it a light squeeze. It’s enough pressure to establish a threat but not enough to take away her ability to breathe.  

Her teary eyes blink, and she nods. 

“Yes,” She whispers. “I’ll be good.”

“So,” He slows his movements and brings his lips to her ear, warm breath tickling her skin. “What do you say? 

Once again, he circles her sensitive clit with his thumb. 

She sobs, clenching around him, and he can tell that she’s close to cumming again. 

“You’re not going to cum until you answer me.” 

“Please, Corio, don’t make me decide. Not right now.”

“I want-” He groans, feeling himself falling close to the edge. “I need an answer.” 

She sobs and tries to look away, but the hand on her face won’t let her. 

“Please.”

His face moves closer to hers, her hot breath fanning his cheeks. 

“I can feel you clenching around me, and I know you can’t hold it in. Give me an answer now.” More tears stream down her face, and she squeezes her eyes shut. “If you cum before giving me an answer, I’ll ruin this pretty cunt.”

There’s a second of silence, save for the sound of his skin slapping against hers before she nods. 

“Yes,” she whispers. 

“Yes, what?” 

“I’ll do it.” 

He quickens his pace, chasing after his own pleasure, and she all but screams. 

The fire in his burns, ready to overtake him, but something isn’t right. 

“Open your eyes.” He demands. “I want you to look at me when I fill you up.” 

She blinks her eyes open, all wide and wet, and he’s unable to hold back. Tightening his hold on her, he forces his hips against her own, burying his cock to the hilt and releasing inside of her. She flutters around him, desperate gasps for air falling from her wanting mouth as she cums with him. 

They stay in this position, both trying to catch their breath. Coriolanus is the first to pull away, rubbing her thighs to loosen the tired muscles. 

She lays there, surrounded by his fluffy white sheets, saying nothing. He gently kisses her cheek, attempting to pull an answer from her, but when it proves unsuccessful, he leaves to draw a bath. 

… 

“You don’t have class tomorrow, right?” 

The question draws her out of her gaze, now realizing she’s curled up in the tub with her knees drawn to her chest. The water is warm, cloudy, almost milky, and smells like roses. She couldn't bear to look at him right now, but she managed to force an answer from her lips. 

“No,” she fights the urge to flinch when his fingers brush her hair away from her neck. “It’s my day off.”

“Good.” Coriolanus dips the washcloth in the tub and gently wipes it against her skin. “You’ll come with me to see Dr. Gaul. Bring your portfolio.”

Her body shudders at the thought of meeting the woman, but more notably, knowing that the man she held so much love for was nothing like the man he portrayed himself to be. 

She once thought that he was her patron, but the truth was that he was her owner. All of the riches she had gained this past year meant nothing now. They weren’t hers. They were his. He had given her a life of safety where she could flourish and provide for her family, but it was one separated from the world she once knew. Her parents and friends from the fabric shop were replaced by the same obscenely wealthy elite who would have thumbed their nose at her if it weren’t for the proximity to him. 

Every gentle brush of his fingers on her skin reminds her of what he’s done to her. How he now owns her.

Her mind falls to a lecture from a year ago. It was about evolution and apex predators. The boa, she remembers, was nonvenomous but deadly, wrapping themselves around their prey, squeezing their bodies until their circulation stopped and their lungs could no longer pull any oxygen. What’s more chilling, she thinks, is that they know to monitor their heartbeat, waiting for their heart to stop before swallowing them whole. 

He’s wrapped himself around her, tightening his hold. She knows she can struggle, but he won’t loosen his grip. He’ll just constrict around her, tighter and tighter, until there’s no more room for her to fight—no more room to breathe. 

“I’ve been very sweet on you, and I can keep doing that.” He hums. “But, I can be cruel as well. You and I both know I don’t want to do that.” 

Finally, she finds the courage to look at him; those blue eyes are now colder than ever. 

She tries to whisper, but when he raises a brow, she clears her throat and meekly responds. 

“Thank you, Coriolanus. For everything.”

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #dark!coriolanus snow #tbosas #tbosas fic #tbosas fanfiction

[sukunas-wife]

Can we get a longer fit on meeting Sukuna's dad🥹

I tried 🤍🤍

“No,” he was judging the woman tying the obi on your waist, “No no no, you’re doing this all wrong woman, move..” You wanted to laugh at the situation, especially when she started talking to him in her mother tongue and he answered back just as snappy leaving her speechless.

You smiled looking down, shaking your head, “I didn’t know you knew more than one language Sukuna.” You looked in the mirror, he was focused, face angled down, you could feel his hands moving, the rustling of the fabric was soft. It was a small shop that hadn’t changed much, its traditional sliding shoji doors, the classic wooden and simple decor, the snappy lady at the front desk scribbling away in her book. All the fabric that was on display or folded away in their respective boxes. Oddly enough it felt like you belonged here in this moment, you looked over your shoulder, Sukuna had stepped back looking at you through the mirror, his eyes fell and met your eyes over your shoulder as you smiled at him. There was a faint tug at his lips, “charming.” You broke out into a grin at his single word before he settled your debt much to your dismay and pleasure as soon as you learned how much the fancy fabrics would’ve cost.

He helped you into his car, a classic black Mercedes S-class, it wasn’t his first choice but his mom beat his safety into him, snapping that if he wanted to risk his life in a flattened down Italian sports car or some useless motorbike he would have to buy it himself. When he had saved up the money to buy his motorbike on his own, his father had sat him down, “Ryomen, listen to me. I would never try to control your life, but I will tell you this, your life is not always lived for just you. On your little bike you could risk your life all you want, but think of the day you meet a fine young lady and want to take her out. It takes one rain, one slide, one bad driver to not only hurt you, but someone you care about deeply.” He smacked his boys back with a heavy hand, “Now, save your money, I’ll let you think about your choices a little longer, don’t tell your mother I’m doing this but considering you have worked hard enough to prove your dedication to this dream of yours.” He gave Sukuna the keys to one of the Sedans, “Don’t tell your mother.” He gave Sukuna a serious look, “I’m serious, you know how she gets it.” Sukuna smiled with a nod, “I really appreciate this, I’ll take the time to think over what you said.”

Of course the first thing he did was go see you in his car, the thought always lingered in the back of his head when you awed over his car. Would he ever put your life at risk for one of his dreams?

“You okay?” Your hand covered his fingers that were tapping away on the middle console, he looked over at you before looking at the road, he nodded, “‘m alright.” His hand stilled under yours turning to hold your fingers in his hand. In his head he was thinking of those American cars where the front seat was built as a single row, he would’ve pulled you into his side if he could’ve. “Ready?” You looked up at him with a small smile, “I’m ready.” It was a lie, you were nervous and it only got worse when he pulled into the Shinden-Zukuri.

He sat you in his room throwing his shirt over your face as he changed so you wouldn’t see him. You sat there nervous but with a small smile on your lips wanting to giggle at his little “Give me some privacy pervert.” When he was the one that brought you into his room after you had said you could wait outside his room.

It all played out well, he brought you to the room where his dad could usually be found drinking tea and unwinding after a long day.

When the doors opened and you saw a larger more profound version of Sukuna you froze. He was a handsome man, square jaw, cold calculating eyes, his hair was a paler pink thanks to the greying hairs. He had a bit of scruff, his eyes were a bit paler with age, his brows dropped in judgement, the choko in his hand was minuscule, his robe was partly open exposing more chest, as he sat there. The thought passed through your head, ‘if that’s what Sukuna was born to be, I WILL marry him..’ it took less than 10 seconds for you to grow a little girl crush on his dad, until Sukuna cleared his throat. Signalling you as he said he would, you snapped back to reality bowing and introducing yourself in the most respectful and put together way you could, your inner child was squealing in delight but you were nervous now. You didn’t see the exchanged looks between Sukuna and his father, until the elder let out a rumble of laughter, “Stand up girl, and then sit. You are an interesting character.” Sukuna wanted to laugh, your practice had flown out the window, at least you had remembered enough to not insult his father.

The three of you sat there, “Well then Y/n,” He looked down at you, a smug look on his face, “I must say you must be quite the character to catch this young man’s attention, I’m interested in how you became involved with him, of course that’s a story my wife would like to hear also I’m sure.” Your eyes widened, “I-“ you swallowed as you looked at Sukuna who looked blankly at the table, “It’s an interesting story so I'd love to share with both you and your wife Sukuna-san.” He smiled bigger, “Sukuna-san? I’m sure if my son is presenting to you he must have other intentions so get comfortable, call me Ryomen.” You looked at Sukuna almost in disbelief, “You have the same..?” The elder laughed, “He’s my only son, of course he’d have my name. Branded him the day he was born, that’s my boy and everyone needs to know it.” You smiled at how his dad seemed to be enjoying himself so openly, you were more confused than ever still when Sukuna spoke with a smile and sigh as he nodded, “My father Sukuna Ryomen, The Man of two faces.”

Soon conversation fell into Ryomen Senior telling you stories of how his little Ryo was a destructive boy. Going as far as to send one of the servants to bring a book which made Sukuna sulk and frown slightly. It was a large leather album, the elder opened the book showing you realistic hand painted pictures and photos of Sukuna as a child, more often than not with bandaids and scrapes, “His mother never liked to put her hands on him, so she found another form of discipline. He loathed standing still considering he was an active child. So when he would cause trouble or get himself hurt with his actions, even getting into fights. She would bring him home, stand him right outside in the garden and have someone come and paint his picture forcing him to stand there scowling for hours.” You were flipping through the book Aawwing and cooing, his father watched proud when you’d ask about certain pictures that had no caption. His answers were lively and entertaining, voice getting louder when he’d begin his stories leaving Sukuna slightly embarrassed at his past. “Look at that boy, embarrassed, it just means it worked to break his bad habits.” He laughed and quickly stopped when he heard the door behind him open. He sat up cleaning his throat. “Oh? We have a guest?” Your eyes moved up the lady's beautiful kimono, she was more filled out in a beautiful manner, her hair was long and dark, her eyes a vibrant red. She was beautiful, you looked at his father thinking in the war of genes he proved to be dominant. “Mom.” Sukuna locked eyes with her as he moved to sit by her husband who was now sitting in a more appropriate manner pulling his robes a little tiger, “This is L/n Y/n.” She looked away from him, staring at you intently, you locked eyes with her you almost felt vulnerable under her stare until she closed her eyes with a soft smile, “It is very nice to me the young lady that has my son huffing at his phone when he gets no messages.” You broke into a grin turning to look at Sukuna who was giving his mom a look and you started to laugh, “Here I thought you didn’t like when I bothered you so much.” “I-“ hsi mom cut him off, “I’ll tell you a story, there was a week during the summer when we left for Kyoto. That poor boy was constantly laid over the table or floor just staring at his phone tapping it off and on to see if anything happened. He even persisted in checking to make sure we had paid for cell service many times. I had become worried he became involved with drugs or something worse until I peeked over his shoulder one day and saw he was continuously refreshing a conversation with a girl” she gave you a look of disbelief, “a girl! Do you know how much disbelief I was in to see my little Ryo was talking to a girl and more importantly patiently waiting for a message? I was astounded, I tried to see a name or picture but he locked his phone, sighed and laid his he’d on the table and scared me, with his little ‘I know you're looking. It wa just something I couldn’t believe, so I knew he either had to bring someone home, or he was just going to leave one day in the middle of the night and I’d have to track him and his little loose woman down and beat the sense into the both of them before dragging him home weather he liked it or not.” Your smile was there but the blank look in your eyes was fear, “ah, I understand entirely, my father is the same way.” She smiled again, “Well, I’m glad you’re the former and not the latter, you seem like a very lovely girl y/n. You can call me Akira, there are too many Sukuna’s here as it is.”

She turned to look at her husband who had an elbow propped on the table, chin resting on his fist while he stared at her, there was a small smug smile on his face, his eyes were lidded, that’s the same look you’d caught on your Sukuna’s face on occasion. You turned to look at him. He was making a face at his parents when his mom brought her hand to hold his dads face. That face was the same face one of your friends had made when the both of you had unintentionally recreated the scene once. You smiled nudging his hand under the table was yours, he looked at you with that same face before he shook his head, his fingers slowly taking yours in a soft hold, his thumb ran over your knuckles and you did your nest to squeeze your hands, oblivious to the way his dad’s eye brows rose motioning to the both of you with his eyes, his wife turned her head slightly. The serene smile on your face was rare for a lady to have around her son considering how much of a brute or cold he could be, what pulled their attention more was the soft look in their son's eyes matching the small smile pulling at his lips. They looked at each other, the silent conversation between the two in an exchange of looks and small head tilts, until his mother let out a hushed laugh. Your both turned to her becoming flustered when you had seen both of his parents were staring at the both of you, “oh-I’m sorry-“ you were about to apologise for falling silent until she waved you off mid sentence, “It’s alright, but my husband here was telling me before I walked in you were going to share the story of how the two you became involved.”

You looked at Sukuna with a grin, “It’s simple really, It was our last year of junior high and during the end of the school year festival, some of the students were running booths to raise money for a school trip before we were let out for break. My friend's father runs a small pet store so we set up a goldfish toss, and everything was going great, kids, adults, couples, everyone loved being able to win a prize to take home.” You sighed, eyes looking away “Then came Satoru Gojo. He's not troubled, just spoiled in my opinion. My dad says the same, he says no one corrected that boy or put hands on him when he was growing up and it shows.” Sukuna’s dad chuckled, “I agree.” You smiled at him, “Well he came along with his friends, his friends were polite when they took their turns, but Gojo,” you made a face staring down at the table, and empty cup, “He kept leaning over the counter and I kept telling him to lean back because it was literally a flimsy folding table, and he didn’t listen and kept leaning further trying to score a fish bowl to take one home but he’s as coordinated as a bat in broad daylight. Just as my friend signalled a teacher the table flipped he tumbled over and knocked into me, we both fell into the table where the fish bowls were and everything came crashing down,” his mother gave a sympathetic look and his father was looking at him pick pick at his nails, “My friend and I rushed to find a decent broken bowl and try to get as many fish as we could back into the water Gojo and his friends ran off when the teacher didn’t do anything because he’s SaToRu GoJo” you shook your head in a sassy way, “It was Terrible and my dads a modest man so I kinda grew up wearing longer skirts and it was a struggle trying to not get wet and save fish and my friend turned to me “Maybe we should just leave them? It might not be too bad?” I wanted to cry because I don’t like the thought of someone or something losing its life as the consequence of some idiots actions, then came Sukuna jumping over the table mumbling something and picking up gold fish left and right throwing them into the bowl we managed to find and I was so grateful, I offered him any of the prizes or fish prizes ended up taking all 13 fish and paid as if he played 13 times even though I persisted it was enough that he had helped but he walked off fish in hand. Just waving me off.” You missed the way his parents shared a look, “Since our booth was broken we just cleaned up and went off to enjoy the rest of the festival. Until the end of the day when I had to take the folding table back to the teachers who had let us use it. I came across Gojo and Sukuna in a standoff in the shoe locker room and I turned a deaf ear to convo after some things were said I kept walking after seeing Sukuna land a punch right on Gojo’s face, I was satisfied seeing it happen and told myself “I won't say anything, that priss deserves what he got.” I turned in the table and made my way out of School just to see Sukuna walking down the school path and I screamed “Hey!” I didn’t know his name, he was kinda scary, and he just stopped. It’s funny because I could physically see him sigh before he half turned to look back, and asked “WHat” kinda intimidating but I managed to catch up and thank him for his help and he just shrugged, and we kinda walked- no I walked you followed me.” Sukuna cut you off, “fine fine he walked and I followed him to the bus stop and we waited for the last bus in silence, I asked what he was gonna do with thirteen goldfish, he stayed quiet, then the bus came. I got on first and he didn’t, I turned around to ask him and he had a stupid smirk on his face, “I’m gonna feed them to the Koi.” The bus door closed, I felt my face drop, and he just started laughing. Anyways, after that, I kinda just kept pestering him, saying hi and trying to talk to him after that day to the point he just accepted I wasn’t leaving him alone. Now that I think about it, he never actually asked me to be his significant other, it just kinda fell into place.”

You finally looked up at his parents, they were nodding, his mom staring at you with a soft smile, his dad more curious “So, how hard did you punch him?” He turned to his son who cracked a smile. “He had a bruise for the next week and a half.” His dad laughed, clapping his hands, stopping and clearing his throat when his wife gave him a look. “Ryo, I’ll leave you to talk to your boy, Y/n will you accompany me?” She stood and you rushed to stand, “I will.” You looked at Sukuna who rolled his eyes letting his head fall to the side with a lopsided smile, before he locked eyes with you, you could almost hear him say “go, you’ll be alright.” So you went, following his mother out onto the engawa into the cool air. You both walked in silence as the crickets and frogs started their symphony. You looked over the garden, zen ponds, zen gardens, lush greenery and plants. You stepped down following her through the zen garden to a red bridge. There were three Islands in the large pond connected by bridges, “My Sukuna…” She trailed off, “He has strong character and a difficult heart, he’s complex in ways no one is able to understand, a bundle of twine no one has found the patience to untangle. Somehow you managed to find a single end and pull it free to see he’s not the bundle of twine, but a gold thread.” You were nodding along, not entirely sure until you made it to one of the islands. “We have a koi pond, but this isn’t it. Take a look.” In your head as you knelt to look closer your brain screamed, ‘She’s gonna PUSH US IN AND KILL US.’ Still you looked at your reflection, it was hard to see without the sun's light, so you pulled out your phone and turned on your flashlight. Looking harder until you saw the flash of colour. “I thought it wasn’t a koi pond?” You asked and she hummed, “It’s not.” You watched as she knelt beside you, she pulled a sleeve up moving her hand into the water and you watched as a light lit up, the bundle of Gold moving in the water caught you by surprise, “Those are-“ she cut you off, “The goldfish he brought home that day. He didn’t tell us where he got them from, or why, he only showed up and asked if he could use the empty pond. Of course we allowed it, it was interesting to watch him empty the fish into the pond, watching him struggle to find a decent food, putting lights into the pond and planting this tree to keep the birds from so easily diving into the water to snatch them up. They’re the original thirteen you know, the others he freely released into the bigger pond.”

You looked up at his mother with a soft smile, she smiled at you, the crinkles by her eyes made it genuine. “GET OFF OF ME OLD MAN!” You heard the struggle behind you and you both turned back to look, there was the elder Ryomen hugging his son in a bone crushing hug, the younger trying to escape, “Let! Me! Go!” You watched as he squirmed with every word until you heard “Alright squirt.” Your Sukuna tumbled unto the water while his dad stood taller, arms crossed over his chest with a burly laugh. You watched as Sukuna sat up in the water, dripping sleeve smacking him in the face as he tried to push his hair back. You laughed with his mom as you both approached. She moved to her husband's side, smacking his chest and scolding him. They watched how you kicked off your shoes getting ankle deep in the water to help Sukuna stand despite his protests and telling you to stay out of the water. How you took his face in one hand pulling him closer when he leaned unto your hand, taking the handkerchief tucked between your body and obi before gently wiping his face, “Ryomen Sukuna you are one of the most complex men I’ve ever met.” A grin grew on his face as his hands came up to grab your wrists, “You love it.”

“RYOMEN.” You flinched at Sukuna’s dads voice, Sukuna tensed up and smiled at you, “You got me into a lot of trouble you know.” You tilted your head, “Yeah?” He leaned in close whispering, “he got onto my ass about never asking you to actually be mine.” You smiled and laughed, “So will you?” You hummed, the smile on your face made your eyes squinty, “I dunno, not to sure I wanna be Y/n Sukuna.” He gave you a look and you closed your eyes shaking your head with a smile, “You’re such a brat.” You pulled him closer and kissed his cheek, “You love it, but yes, I will.”

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[rustedhearts]

crush (college!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: academic distraction comes in the form of one tall, handsome brunet named steve.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the scholar stud masterlist ✶ main masterlist

tags: college!steve, college!reader, fluff, a little cringe sometimes, steve's a cocky douche, smut!! silly ending because i just wanted to finish it.

a/n: why, yes. the notorious college steve has returned for this one day. i hope you enjoy his rebirth.

somewhere in indiana, october 1988. tillman university.

"And that concludes today's class. Folks, don't forget the exam tomorrow, bright and early eight a.m—"

The shuffle of notebooks and folders being swept from plastic desks drowned out the bellow of Professor Brown's instructions as the class scurried to leave. Everyone knew the pub just on the edge of campus was hosting 'Beer Olympics' tonight, and most of your classmates couldn't risk losing out on even one moment in that sticky, wood-paneled bar.

Including the handsome, silky-haired Steve Harrington, who sat in front of you and chewed on his pen for the entire hour of English 231: British Literature. At first, the incessant clicking of teeth against plastic and ink drove you insane.

But once, he whirled around when the cap went flying and landed on your desk, and the smile he passed you seemed sweet and bashful. The rosiness on his cheeks pretty, the hazel of his eyes against the fluorescents dreamy. He started murmuring to you during class discussions, begging for explanations on 'what the hell that Shakespeare guy was talking about.'

Steve Harrington might've shared a love for the stupid and the insane like the rest of the population on Tillman's campus, but he had the good grace to display it such a wonderful way that you didn't even mind.

You shuffled back to your dorm, bundled in a scarf and wool-lined coat, prepared to settle cozily into bed and study for tomorrow's test—your roommate, however, had other ideas.

"I need you to come with me," she whined as you removed your layers and tossed them on the bed. "This is my one chance for James to see how hot I am."

A cackle shot from your mouth, though you softened to pity as your roommate's shoulders drooped. James was her very own Steve: handsome, a year or two her senior, and a complete academic distraction. Her attempts to get his attention have lengthened weeks now, but all to no avail.

"I don't know...I have an exam tomorrow—"

"Oh, God, please," she groaned, falling back on her bed across the room. The springs yipped. "Chaucer is more important than the state of my love life?"

"What is the state of your love life?"

"Dead!"

You bit back a grin, swallowing all amusement when your roommate rolled onto her side and frowned at you. Like a little sister begging to be included, she rounded her eyes and jutted her lip.

"C'mon, please?" she whined. "You can bring your stuff to study, I'm sure there's a quiet corner. They have food, too! Come on, I'll buy you shitty bar wings!"

Eyeing her weepy, desperate eyes and your piles of highlighted notes, you mulled over the options with half-hearted sincerity. You were 95% sure you would ace this exam tomorrow, and the study session was for 'just in case.' Who were you to stand in the way of your roommate's apparent true love?

"And onion rings," you added.

Bouncing into a seated position, your roommate beamed and clapped her hands together sharply. "Anything."

✶ ✶

"Okay, here." Two plastic baskets of sticky barbecue wings and crispy, golden onion rings slid your way across a poorly-cleaned wooden hightop. "Are you good by yourself over here? I saw James by the pool table."

Grinning like a toddler with a treat, you reached for a wing with gentle fingers and nodded. "Yep, I'm perfect. Go get your man!"

Relief flooded her features, all dolled up and sparkly. She popped a quick kiss to your cheek and spun around, sweeping a hand over her hair to tame the frizz.

"Okay, I'm going in."

You watched her trot away in heels she could barely squeeze into with a giggle. She eased her way into a group of people near the pool table, lingering close enough to the blond-haired James without seeming desperate. You'd seen your roommate dizzy-headed around plenty of men before, but James turned her into something else.

The corner she found you was as quiet as a bar corner could be at eight o'clock on the night of a campus-wide event. Purses and backpacks piled in the corner of your booth, potently scented with sweet perfume and cigarette smoke. The lights were low back here, and most of your notes came scanned in the neon blue glow of the Budweiser sign hanging behind your head. Once your eyes adjusted to the hue, and the rowdy buzz of your peers faded away, you honestly found enjoyment in your little corner.

Until—

"Well hello, Oh studious one," a voice bellowed over the noise. "Didn't expect to see you here."

Steve Harrington, handsome, pink-cheeked, and a little bleary-eyed, sauntered toward your table with a beer in hand. He bent over your textbook, elbows creasing the onion skin pages, and flashed you a sideways grin. You thanked the blue lights for concealing the heat in your face.

"I'm quite surprising."

He chuckled, condensation dripping from the amber bottle in hand when he pointed the mouth of it toward the contents of your table. "And you're...reading. At a bar."

You clicked your pen, swiping a lukewarm onion ring from its basket. "I'm studying for our test tomorrow."

Steve lifted his gaze from the book, returning it to your face—his own blank and thoughtless. He's slow to lift the lip of the beer bottle to his mouth, and the swig he takes comes with furrowed brows.

The bottle pops away with a sharp release of suction. "Test?"

Giggling, you slap your hand onto your book. "Are you serious? Professor Brown just told us about it, like, four hours ago."

Steve straightened up, removing himself from your book. A large hand swept over the top of his hair, darkened with dampness from the exertion of Beer Olympic seriousness.

"Ohhh, that test," he snarked. "The test on...."

He trailed so far you worried he'd get lost, and as you tipped your chin down and fixed him with an incredulous look, you had mercy on him. "Chaucer."

Steve blinked again, eyes as glazed over and empty as a doe's. "Who?"

You succumbed to your amusement, a chorus of giggles bubbling over. "You're helpless."

Steve shrugged, cheek meeting his shoulder with an air of coolness. His body tipped sideways, one elbow returning to its place on your wrinkled pages to lean his weight on the table.

"Maybe so."

You took a small bite of your onion ring, which had lost all its crisp, and took your turn to blink blankly. But the boy was patient, knuckles rapping on the table in an offbeat tune as you lingered in the pause. Finally, overcome by his own impatience, Steve set his bottle on the table and slid even closer. You could feel the warmth of his body, exuding alcohol-laced sweat and a back alley cigarette soaked into the dampness of his t-shirt. Black cotton, thinned with sweat, drenched in leathery cologne applied hours ago.

"Maybe...you could help me then," he suggested, tone sauced with boyish charm.

Heat flooded your face like a dam bursting, rushing like a hot-blooded throb. You shifted on the sticky booth, boots clunking together beneath the table. The bits of soggy breading balled in your throat.

"I—" You swallowed, hands gripping the booth beneath you with urgency. "I-t-that could—"

Steve plucked his beer bottle from the table, sliding a step away from the table. His friends crowded around the pool table, where your roommate and her very own version of Steve were pressed against the wall, murmuring in close proximity.

"So, tomorrow?" He took another shuffled step back, a glint in his eye like he already knew his work was done.

He had you.

You swallowed again, tongue darting out to wet your dry mouth. "But...the test will be over by then."

Steve cupped his hand around his ear, eyes squinting as you grew smaller with every step back. "What? I can't—you're so far away! I can't hear you."

Amusement glimmered through, shattering your stunned stupor and bringing you back to life. Another mindless giggle tumbled from your mouth, and Steve savored it as he turned just enough to miss your pretty face.

"See you tomorrow!" he called.

You watched the plain of his broad back make its way into the crowd again, falling into a chorus of hoops and hollers and flushed, sticky bodies. You watched him douse himself in beer from a poorly-crafted beer bong held by a sloppy drunk. You watched him until you felt like a giddy schoolgirl, and did your best to return to your work and wait to take your leave.

And Steve stole glances when he knew you were no longer looking, hoping you'd really show.

✶ ✶

"I can't believe this is happening."

"I'm already nervous enough, please stop saying that."

"I'm sorry!" your roommate shrieked, hands slapping against her cheeks as she watched you fix your hair for the millionth time in the mirror on the floor. "I just...I just can't."

"Okay, but you can tell me if my outfit is good. Is it-is it okay? What does it say to you?"

You hopped to your feet, whirling around to show your carefully crafted outfit. You spent all night holding your roommate's hair back and pondering over your outfit in your head; daydreaming about what Steve would say once he had you in his dorm room, which he slipped by your table with beer-laced instructions to meet him at when the night dwindled down.

Now here you were, clammy palmed and losing your mind. Was this some sort of trick? A dare? Was he playing a joke on you?

“It says: ‘I want Steve Harrington to fuck me.’ But in a very chic, understated way.”

Huffing, you did your best to ignore the swirl in your belly at the thought of Steve mirroring your roommate’s beliefs.

“I’m leaving. You’re no help,” you half-heartedly scolded, swiping your bag on the way toward the door.

But if Steve Harrington wanted to fuck you, you certainly had no objections.

He had a sloppily scrawled sign on his dorm room door declaring it his place of residence (and whoever the hell Eddie Munson was). You swallowed as you brought your knuckles to the wood, smoothing your hair once more as footsteps shuffled behind it. It swung open with a gust of warm, woodsy air. His cologne filled the room like a potent candle, and you took a brief moment to suppress a cough before taking in his smooth, half cocked grin.

“Hey, pretty,” he drawled, leaning against the doorway with crossed arms.

Huffing a laugh, you fiddled with the strap of your bag over your shoulder. “Hi, Steve.”

Steve took a moment to drink you in, tongue inching between his lips to wet it as he shuffled back a step. His hand pushed the door open all the way, revealing a recently-cleaned bedroom adorned with two double-twins and a desk warm with amber lamplight. You immediately knew which posters were his—all sports related and signed.

“Come on in, get comfy.”

You took tiny steps inside, shivering when he breezed by in another whoosh of air to close the door behind you. The heat of his body, lingering close behind as you inspected the room, nipped at that gooey, mushy part of you that ached for him. The same part of you that rendered you a distracted, brainless mess in class when he spoke or flexed that strong arm with a grip around his pen.

“Thirsty?”

Whirling around, you found Steve standing near the desk, watching you with fixed and glinting hazel eyes.

Your face warmed twenty degrees. “Sorry?”

He motioned toward a mini fridge under the desk, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Something to drink?”

You breathed a laugh, swinging your bag off your shoulder. “Oh, um, sure.”

You had to look away when he bent to pull it open, the strain of tendons and cords of muscle in his tan, lean arms enough to make your mouth pool with water. Christ, you were ridiculous. You turned toward the dark, black fabric-clad side of the room where his roommate must’ve lived.

“So, um, the test was pretty easy this morning, but we can still—“

“Look at you. God, you’re so beautiful.”

The cold condensation of a Coke can pressing against your arm was the first to startle you—whirling around with a sharp-edged gasp. Then the sound of his words, rasped behind your ear, bringing goosebumps to your skin. His body, so close you could feel his warmth, smell the mint on his freshly-brushed teeth.

Standing this close, you could feel his breath tickle your cheeks, could see the shiny sheen of spit on his mouth from his tongue.

"W-what?"

Steve just shook his head, a dumfounded wonderment glistening in his eye. "You heard me."

Your jaw slackened, lips parting to utter some stupefied response, mind turning to soupy mush at the sudden proximity. Before you could even attempt some silly, bashful disagreement, Steve collected your chin in his hand. Pinched between gentle fingers, he guided your mouth up to his own until their softness touched.

The Coke can clattered to the ground and rolled toward the desk as his mouth closed over yours. You perked on your toes, fingers curling into fists as they lifted toward his shoulders, broad and firm. You couldn't believe this was happening. You always thought he tossed you looks during class, that he might've lingered a little too long when he walked to his desk just to watch you sit there.

You never imagined it could be true. That Steve Harrington wanted you the way you wanted him.

“You could’ve,” an interruption of kisses stopped you short, the click of spit and lips echoing off cinderblock, “at least…mm, pretended—oh! T-to study.”

“Couldn’t wait,” Steve mumbled against your mouth, teeth scraping your bottom lip, breath hot against your tongue.

Arousal flushed hot in your body, stomach squeezing in time with the fluttered successions of excitement provoked by his roaming hands. They stroked down your arms and toward your waist, slipping through the curves to hold you firmly. Another gasp bled into his open mouth when he tugged you close.

"This is so much better than Chaucer," he breathed, mouth sliding over your lips to your cheek where he pressed a firm and sloppy kiss.

"Mhm," you pipped dazedly, head tipping to follow his affections.

Thighs bumping the edge of the bed, you allowed Steve to guide you onto the black duvet of the mattress behind you. It rumpled with the hurried shuffle of bodies climbing over. Steve tugged you by the calves when you met the pillow, pulling you flat beneath him. He dipped with eager excitement to collect another kiss as your thighs bookended his hips.

"Test was already graded," Steve muttered, nudging your jaw with his nose to move it aside and fit his head in your neck. "Got...mm...eighty-five."

Heaving for air, you ruffled your fingers through the thickness of his hair: soft and slipping between your hands like silk. Blinded by the tingling buzz reverberating through your bones, you could barely form a thought, let alone a sentence aloud. Steve's lips suctioned to the column of your throat, and your body gave a jolt.

"Th-thought you didn't know anything."

Steve chuckled, and the sound grumbled through you like a firework. You gave another jerk, fingers twisting in his hair, hips canting up against the firmness of his jeans.

"M' not stupid," he mumbled into your neck, nipping with gentle teeth at your earlobe. "Just so distracted. Can't stop thinkin' 'bout you behind me."

"Oh, Steve," you scoffed, eyes opening blearily to blink at the tiled ceiling, browned with old water stains. His hair tickled your cheek, cologne bathing you in masculine comfort.

Steve lifted his head, peering down at you with rosy cheeks and swollen lips. "You don't believe me?"

You let your hands fall from his hair, smoothing over the firmness of his shoulders. The stretch of your thighs around him began to burn in the most delicious way, and the tufts of chest hair slipping from his grey t-shirt made you shift on the bed. You wanted him. Like a mad woman, some nymphomaniac, lust-ridden fiend.

"I don't know," you sighed, running a finger down his chest. "Let's just...talk about it later."

Steve watched you a moment, eyes scanning your face with scrutiny. When heat swelled in your flesh, his lips coiled into a grin, eyes alight with amusement.

"Ohhh, I see. Poor little baby just can't wait. Y' want me, pretty girl?"

You bobbed your head fervently, the beginning of a pout even toying with your lips. He rendered you ridiculous and stupid, and later, you might've even felt embarrassed about how easy it was for Steve Harrington to have you whining.

But right now, all you cared about were his hands, big and rough and warm to the touch, taking off your shirt.

"Don't worry, honey," Steve cooed breathlessly, eyes traveling to the newly exposed flesh. "You've got me."

As his hands explored and grabbed at flesh, your own slipped beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, splaying over the soft skin beneath. He was quick to shed himself of the layer, and you did your best to admire the build revealed as he trailed kisses between your breasts. He led them all the way down to your navel, and then over the curve of flesh leading to the waistband of your pants. Steve hooked his fingers in the belt loops and tugged harshly, practically ripping them from your thighs and down over your feet.

He captured his lip between his teeth as he settled between your legs again, fingers pinching and kneading at the flesh like soft dough. "And I've got you. Ain't that right?"

You grew dizzy with your nodding, so petulantly desperate and pleading. Steve grinned at it, index tracing the lace of your underwear with explorative wonderment as he watched your eyes well up. He was certain if he prolonged your pleasure any more, he'd have you weeping.

"Don't cry, honey," he soothed, peeling your panties off by the lace band. "Steve's gotcha."

In the back of your mind, you rolled your eyes and giggled at the ridiculous confidence Steve seemed to think he could get away with—but in reality, you were too busy lifting your hips to meet Steve's fingers, brushing just gently over your core as he undid his belt with the other hand. The buckle clinked and clunked with a toss, clattering to the tile floor somewhere near Steve's side of the room, where your backpack and all its contents spilled in the erotic chaos of Steve's impatience.

When the pair of you were bare, Steve breached the distance—flesh on flesh exuding heat that glistened in a haloed sheen. His mouth worked over yours a while longer, melting you down just a little more into absolutely nothing. Hands coaxing your limbs to release their tensions, your muscles to relax and ease into him. You trusted him more than anything, warmed by his gentle affections. No man had ever been so sweet and slow.

The crinkle of foil came like tv static, muffled and low. And then something larger than his fingers was brushing your core, slipping through the slickness pooling. He rubbed the tip along your most sensitive, delicate spot just enough to have you whimpering and twisting, before sliding into your entrance with slow, meticulous purpose.

Steve groaned as he pushed further, forearms planted on either side of your head. Your thighs quaked against his ribs, hoisted high and holding on tight. You reached for his hair again, desperate for more of him.

"You okay, honey?" Steve mumbled against your cheek, fanning hot breath into your ear.

You shivered at the grumble of his voice rattling through you, nodding once more. "Y-yeah. Keep going, please."

He huffed a chuckle, shifting his hips to push a little deeper and revel in the gasp you shot out.

"Please," he mocked, kissing your damp cheek. "So sweet."

When he sank in completely, you could've sworn you saw the light. A burning sting that had you writhing crawled through your thighs and up your back, settled even deep in your stomach where the thickness of him rested. He nuzzled into your neck with a low grunt of relief, giving you the space of his back to run your fingers down and kiss mindlessly. Steve seemed to be no better, losing himself in the warmth of your body wrapped around him.

"Steve, please."

Your voice stirred him from his hazy, lust-drunk stupor; he quickly readjusted to lift off his arms.

"Shh, shh, 've got you."

Like revving an engine, Steve gave a few short thrusts before settling into a pace of slow, deep humps that came like timed successions. You gasped and groaned with every one, nails biting into the warm, clammy skin of his shoulders. Once he knew you were satisfied and free of discomfort, Steve took his moment to brush your hair out of your face with a heavy, sweeping palm. He peppered kisses all over your face, delicate brushes of his mouth over your eyelids and nose, firmer across your mouth and cheeks.

Who knew Steve Harrington would be so sweet?

“Knew you’d feel so good,” he whined into your ear, pace quickening a bit with eagerness.

“So good,” you parroted, a high pitched and nasally lilt congealing your voice.

But he was just that good.

The room quieted to a blend of slick skin clicking and the bated, hoarse breaths of erotic thrill. You weren’t sure how long it truly went on, but the world just fell away around you. Blackened in a vignette of vision, hazed over with heavenly satisfaction. Your body buzzed in some muffled, distant way—you felt like just a mind in a body, being taken away. It was hard to focus on anything other than Steve, rocking into you and leaving kisses on your neck.

When your hiccuped breath shifted to sharp mewls, clawed from somewhere deep in your chest, Steve reared back and steadied his hands on your hips. He slowed to a glacial pace, watching his own cock prod at the flesh beneath your navel, your own slickness gather at his pelvis. He brought his thumb to your clit, pressing firmly into the delicate nub to focus a gentle, circular massage. You twisted and writhed like a woman enraged with demonic possession, and your grip on his forearms felt like something out of The Exorcist.

But it was all worth it to watch your face balloon with heat, flooding every vein with scorching pleasure until air became nothing but a lifeline. Steve was glad to even press pause on his own pleasure just to see you summit. Your chest trembled with a quaking roar, limbs succumbing to weakness in the daze. Vision clouded with grey static, streaked with a pool of tears.

When you were positively spent, Steve carefully unsheathed, squeezing his fist around his cock with firm pressure and bringing it to hover over your stomach.

“This okay, sweetheart?” he managed to grit out, neck bulging with veins, cheeks growing red.

You could barely nod, swiping your hand through the thin layer of sweat along his arm. “Uh-huh.”

“Oh God—fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Warmth splattered across your abdomen, like a gentle flicker of water across your skin. The squelching sound of Steve fucking his fist died down, mirroring the dwindle of moans and groans from the boy himself. He fell forward heavily, catching himself with one hand beside your head. His nose brushed your cheek, catching his breath against the clammy skin.

“Christ,” he heaved, jutting a lazy kiss to the corner of your mouth. “We owe Chaucer a big one.”

Before you could giggle or scoff, the door swung open with a chittering screech. Steve scrambled to grab the comforter and shield your bare, sticky bodies, both your heads snapping toward the doorway as a shaggy-haired boy stomped through: his roommate.

“Harrington, what the fuck?”

#rolly! #steve harrington #college!steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve the hair harrington #joe keery #steve harrington x female reader smut #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington au #stranger things

[gigabyte-flare]

Hybrid

(A Gigabyte Flare One Shot)

Summary: The year is 2123. The latest craze to hit the market are Hybrids, humans genetically engineered to have animalistic traits, born and raised to be the perfect companion. Your mom convinces you to get one since you live alone in a big city, however you get way more than you bargained for

Word Count: 3.8k

Pairing: puppy!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Pet play, dubcon, oral (f receiving), somnophilia, sex [p in v], mommy kink, breeding kink

A/N: Finally hopping on the puppy!Leon band wagon! Huge shoutout to @nexysworld for creating the adorable puppy!Leon for this fic's banner and for her and @elfven-blog for enabling me to write a puppy!Leon fic. Also lightly inspired by the puppy!Leon POV series by Nekrophil/ABP0RNS on Twitter (go check them out, their artwork is *chef's kiss*) Enjoy!

“Hybrids, the latest craze in New Los Angeles for human companionship. Humans spliced with animal DNA and raised to be your best friend! Hybrids are the perfect addition to any household! Adopt your Hybrid today at your nearest--”

You abruptly change the channel, sitting in a living room with your mom at her condo.

“Those things freak me the fuck out…” you say, mindlessly scrolling through channels.

“Hybrids? Aw, really? I think they’re cute!”

You turn to your mom, giving her a disgusted look, “really? You don’t see anything wrong with those things?”

She shakes her head, “no worse than the cyber augmentations people get, sweetie”

You watch your mom ponder for a moment, her eyes suddenly widening, “you should get one!”

“What-- Mom, no!”

“You’re in that apartment all away across town all by yourself, it’ll be good for you!”

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How you got dragged out to adopt a Hybrid is beyond you. Your mom somehow convinced you to at least go and look at what they have available for adoption. You lean your head against the passenger window and watch the sights of the city. You mindlessly listen to your mom rattle on about how excited she is to look at the Hybrids and you picking out one, which finally draws your attention.

“Whoa hold on, Mom, I never said I was buying one! I just said I would look, that’s all!” you draw your attention back out the passenger window, “besides, I can’t afford one, you know that. I’d never have enough credits in my lifetime for something like that.”

“Hun, I’m going to help you with that, don’t worry. This is for your wellbeing, after all!”

“Great…”

The large neon sign proclaiming that it was the location of a Hybrid adoption center made your stomach sink. Your mom pulls the car into the parking lot, getting out and practically dragging you out of the passenger’s side to go into the building. The reception area is a blinding white, a stark contrast to the neon grunge of the city outside. The woman behind the desk greets both of you both with a smile.

“Welcome to the Hybrid adoption center! How can I help you ladies today?”

Your mom grasps you by your shoulders, pushing you forward, “my daughter wants to see the Hybrids available for adoption today!”

“Oh that’s fantastic!” the receptionist says, her smile still plastered on her face, “what kind of Hybrid are you looking for?”

You look at the receptionist with a confused look, “what do you mean what kind?”

“Well, we have different kinds that are spliced with different animals! However, our dog and cat Hybrids are our most popular, would you like to start with one of those?”

You look at your mom for a moment before shifting your attention back to the receptionist, “um… I guess the dog ones…?”

“Great choice! Now then, I’ll notify our active adoption coordinator and have her come out to take you to see what we have for dog Hybrids, have a seat!”

You and your mom take a seat in the waiting area. You lean forward, fiddling with your fingers as you both wait. Your mom was more excited to see the Hybrids than anyone. You just wanted to please your Mom and move on. You had no intention of adopting a Hybrid. The sound of a door sliding open makes you jump as a woman with a clipboard comes out to you and your Mom.

“Are you the two ladies here to see our dog Hybrids?” she asks enthusiastically.

“Yes we are!” your mom immediately answers, practically jumping out of her seat. 

The woman motions for you both to follow her, you do so reluctantly. She leads you down a set of pure white corridors before coming upon another door that slides open. Both sides of the room were lined what you could only describe as cells and you see them, the Hybrids. You expected to hear barking for some reason, but that’s not the case here. They all are saying hello and grabbing the bars that keep them in their cells. 

“They can talk…?” I ask.

“Yes! Hybrids are perfectly capable of human speech! Did you have something in particular in mind for a dog Hybrid?”

“You should get a male--” Mom interjects.

“Mom!”

The coordinator just laughs, “we have plenty of males to choose from, let’s take a look!”

The first thing you notice is all of them are naked, making this whole situation even more awkward. Hybrids were quite literally people with animal parts grafted onto them; it was quite unsettling to you.

“How is this even ethical?” you whisper to your Mom.

“Stop it!” your Mom scolds you. 

Most of the Hybrids were much too… eager and hyper for you, making you a little uncomfortable. It wasn’t until you got to one of the last cells when a Hybrid actually caught your attention. He, of course, was nude like the rest, but he wasn’t jumping all over the place trying to get your attention. He was laying on his back, looking up at the ceiling. He had blonde hair and blue eyes and, admittedly, he was quite gorgeous; you were bummed he was a Hybrid and not a human. He finally notices you, rolling over and smiling as he grasps the bars on his cell.

His voice is gentle, “hi there! I’m Leon!” his matching blonde tail wagging back and forth. 

Something you hadn’t noticed before was that all the Hybrids had two sets of ears, their human ears and their animal ears, “do they all have two sets of ears?” you ask.

“So their animal ears aren’t actually ears, they’re simply appendages meant for cosmetics. Their human looking ears are their actual ears.” the coordinator replies, “this is Leon, he just turned 21; he’s a very calm boy, very loyal and friendly, but protective, too.”

“Oh sweetie he’s perfect for you! Look at him! He’s adorable!” your mom exclaims before speaking to the coordinator, “she lives in an apartment all by herself.”

“Oh! Leon would be perfect for you! What do you say?”

Your gaze shifts to Leon, his pretty blue eyes practically pleading at you, his tail still wagging. 

You let out a heavy sigh, you can’t believe you’re actually doing this, “I’ll take him.”

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The next few days were a blur, consisting of filling out paperwork and buying things Leon would need for when he comes home. Thankfully Hybrids eat the same things humans do, so you just have to make sure you buy for two instead of just for yourself. The day came for Leon to come home to your apartment and your first order of business was getting clothes on him, having him naked all the time was just way too weird. That was proving harder than you anticipated. 

“No! It’s itchy!” Leon whines, kicking off the pants and underwear you had put on him for the fifth time before curling up on the floor.

At that point you conceded defeat, you were just going to have to deal with him being naked for now. You guessed it made sense, he’s probably been naked his entire life. You watch him as he plays with a rubber bone you had bought him, immediately noticing his canine teeth were much sharper than a normal human’s would be. You look over in the corner where you had a large crate set up, it was actually at the coordinators recommendation that you get a crate for him even though the idea of putting him in it made you really uncomfortable. You’d hope you wouldn’t have to use it.

Your attention returns to Leon, who’s still playing with his bone happily, sporting this new collar you got him. It was a blue leather collar to match his eyes and had a bone shaped tag that had his name on the front and your contact info on the back.

“Leon,” you suddenly call to him, holding your hand out, “wanna play fetch?”

Leon immediately perks up onto his haunches before crawling over to you with the toy in his mouth.

You tried your damned hardest not to focus on his very large dick, even flaccid it was quite large. Again, you curse that he’s not a human internally. He drops the toy from his mouth into your hand and you reach out, giving him a scratch behind one of his dog ears. His cheeks turn red, leaning his head into your touch. 

“Aren’t you a sweet boy…” you say before tossing the toy gently. 

Leon chases after the toy, picking it up in his mouth and bringing it back over to you for you to throw again. You do this a few more times before Leon decides he’s had enough, he climbs up onto the couch next to you, laying his head in your lap as he stretches out across the rest of the couch, his tail making a rhythmic thumping sound as he wags his tail. You run your fingers through his hair, looking down at him.

His blue eyes look up at you and he smiles, “I love you, Mommy!”

You feel your breath hitch at his words, but you quickly recover and smile back, “love you too, Leon.”

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“Leon, get back here right now!” 

You never thought you’d be starting your day chasing Leon around the living room with a pair of boxers in your hands.

“Leon, come on! My best friend is coming over and I can’t have you running around naked, at least wear these boxers for god’s sake! I even cut a hole in the back for your tail, just get over here so I can put them on!”

“No! It itches!” Leon protests, somehow managing to stay one step ahead of you as he darts around the living room on all fours.

After a while, you manage to corner him on the couch, quickly slipping on the boxers, making sure to pull his tail through the makeshift hole you had made. He starts to pull them off when you scold him.

“Leon, no! Do you want to go in the crate?”

Leon stops, pulling the boxers back up and giving you the most pathetic puppy eyes, “no, Mommy…”

“Then they stay on at least until my best friend leaves, ok?”

Leon nods, climbing off the couch, grabbing his rubber bone before climbing back onto the couch to chew on it. 

“Thank you… good boy…” you say before you work on cleaning up your apartment for your best friend to arrive. 

About a half hour goes by when you hear your phone go off, a notification displaying that there is someone at the door. With a couple of taps on your phone, your best friend’s face appears on the screen.

“Hey there, I’m here!” she says, giving you a big smile.

“Hang on Hailey, I’ll be right there!”

You go up to your apartment door, push a few buttons on the key panel next to the door and the door slides open. Hailey, your best friend since you were kids, comes in and gives you a hug.

“It’s been too long! What is it that you wanted to show me?” Hailey asks. 

You motion for Hailey to follow you into the living room, where you find Leon still contently chewing on his bone, the boxers thankfully still on.

“Is… is that one of those Hybrids?!” the shock is evident in Hailey’s voice.

“Y-Yeah… mom convinced me to get him; his name is--”

“Hi there!” Leon sits up, his tail wagging in full circles as he looks to your friend, “I’m Leon!”

Hailey leans over to whisper into your ear, “are all Hybrids that hot?”

You elbow her, “shut up! It’s hard enough to deal with as it is without you mentioning it!”

Leon looks between the two of you, cocking his head in confusion, his tail still wagging, now hitting against the couch. 

“Listen, I’m pretty sure most people fuck their Hybrids, like, look at him, how could you not?”

“Hailey, no! That’s fucking weird.”

“You’re telling me that you haven’t at least thought about it?”

“We’re not talking about this, not in front of Leon.”

Leon, meanwhile, has returned his attention to his rubber bone, chewing it aggressively when he suddenly picks up an unusual scent, one he’s never smelled before. He stops chewing, flaring his nostrils as he sniffs the air. Whatever it was, it smells sweet, almost like a wildflower. He quickly realizes that it’s you that smells like this, even though it was so faint. He wanted to get up and stuff his nose into you to take in more of this sweet smell, however, he knew he’d get in trouble, especially with your friend being here. To his dismay, you and your friend went back into the kitchen to hang out, bringing that irresistible smell with you.

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In the dead of night, Leon is restless, tossing and turning in his plush bed that sat at the foot of your bed. The smell from the other day has only become stronger over time and it was getting to Leon’s head. The smell was making his cock hard, something he hadn’t really experienced until now. It is almost painful; just him simply running his fingers along his cock made him flinch. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore, he sat up, carefully climbing onto your bed. You were laying on your back, sound asleep with your legs spread open.

Leon gently crawls his way between your legs, the intoxicating smell emanating from the spot between your legs; he notices a dark spot on your panties. Gently, he presses his nose against the wet spot, inhaling deeply as his tail wags back and forth.

That’s it… that’s where that smell is coming from…

He glances up at you, you’re still sound asleep. He gently hooks a finger on your underwear, pulling them aside to reveal your glistening cunt to him; it practically makes him salivate. He hesitantly runs his tongue over your slit, his eyes fluttering closed as he savors the taste of you. You suddenly stir, your hips shifting slightly as a soft moan comes out of you. Your eyes flutter open and you look down to find, to your horror, Leon between your legs, eating you out. 

You blink a few times before shouting, “LEON!”

Taking his mouth off of you, Leon’s eyes widen as he pushes himself off the bed, letting out a soft whimper as you sit up and cover yourself with your blanket. 

“In your crate!” you point to the bedroom door, your face beet red, “now!”

“Mommy… I’m sorry… I just--”

“GET. OUT!”

Leon’s puppy ears droop and his tail tucks itself between his legs as he crawls out into the living room. You follow behind him, making sure he puts himself in his crate before shutting the crate door behind him. Looking up and whining at you, his fingers grip the bars of the crate as he stares up at you, pleading to you with his blue eyes. Unfortunately, you simply shake your head at him and walk back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind you. Leon feels tears well up in his eyes as he grips the bars on the crate. 

What did he do wrong? He was only doing what his instincts told him to do, why was that bad? Releasing his grip on the crate bars, he makes himself as comfortable as he possibly can in his situation, crying himself to sleep, your sweet scent still lingering in the air.

 🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴

You didn’t sleep a wink the rest of the night, between the sounds of Leon’s cries echoing through your bedroom door to just the thought of waking up to Leon eating you out disturbed you to your core. You finally get yourself out of bed, throwing on your pajama bottoms before walking out of your bedroom. You find Leon awake in his crate, his eyes red and puffy from crying all night. Upon seeing you, he immediately sits up, gripping the crate bars, his tail wagging so hard it was a blonde blur. Against your better judgment, you walk up to the crate, unlocking it to let him out. 

As soon as you open the crate door, Leon bolts out, wrapping his arms around your legs, holding you tight. The fact that he buries his nose into you and deeply inhales doesn’t go unnoticed by you. 

“Thank you for letting me out, Mommy! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll be a good boy, I swear!”

You pry his arms off you and push him away, “Just… just go play with your toys Leon…” you say before walking into the kitchen to make yourself coffee and breakfast. 

Once you have your coffee and breakfast, you practically collapse at the small dining table, rubbing your face with your hands. What are you going to do? You could start crating him at night, but something about that didn’t sit right with you. Suddenly, you feel something rest on your lap and the sound of something thumping against the floor. You move your hands away from your face to find Leon’s head resting in your lap, his tail wagging against the floor.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?” he asks, his blue eyes looking up at you, his puppy ears erect and alert. 

“Nothing, Leon…” you say with a sigh, “you must be hungry. I’ll make you something to eat…”

You get up from the table and over to the stove where you make him some eggs and bacon. Once finished, you put them on a plate and set it on the floor in front of him and watch as he scarfs it down. You sit back down at the table and slowly pick away at your breakfast and take sips out of your coffee mug. You feel Leon rest his head onto your lap again. You look back down, finding him looking up at you longingly, his tail wagging insistently. 

“What is it, Leon?” you ask, leaning back in your chair.

Leon doesn’t say a word, however, as he climbs up until he’s face to face with you, staring directly into your eyes, his tail still wagging. He lets out a soft whimper as he grinds his hips into the side of your thigh. You happen to glance down, greeted with his painfully hard member rubbing against you. Looking back up at him, Leon whimpers again, his hands softly caressing your arms.

“Leon… are you ok…?”

You watch as Leon swallows hard before he continues rutting himself against your thigh, his breath trembling.

“I need… to mate with you…” Leon finally replies, his grip on your arms tightening as he continues to grind into your thigh.

Your heart begins to race as very conflicting feelings begin to overtake you.

This is so wrong, you think to yourself.

That thought doesn’t stop you as you lean forward, giving Leon a gentle kiss on the lips, cupping his face in your hands. Leon deepens your kiss, his tongue dancing with yours before playfully biting your bottom lip. You stand up from the table, leading him back into the bedroom, shutting the door before you begin to undress. As soon as you're naked, Leon stands up on two feet, pushing you into the bed face first so that your backside is propped up. You feel yourself tremble in anticipation as you feel Leon climb onto the bed behind you. You flinch when you feel his cock caress your soaked slit, coating itself in your arousal before he pushes himself inside you. 

“Oh… Oh god--!” you cry out as Leon’s length fills you completely, pushing into your g-spot almost immediately, your fingers gripping your sheets. 

You hear Leon whimper as his hips begin to move into you. He starts out slow, but he quickly gains confidence and begins to thrust into you harder and faster, his hands gripping your hips so hard that you’re bound to have bruises later. 

“Yes… oh yes, Mommy… you feel so good…” Leon moans as he pounds into you harder, “am I a good boy…?”

“Yes…” you reply in a breathy moan as your eyes roll back into your head, “you’re such a good boy, Leon… you fuck Mommy so good…”

You feel his hands grip your hips even tighter as he pulls your body to him, thrusting into you even harder, his loud moans and whimpers filling the room along with the wet sounds of your needy cunt taking him. 

“Aaaaahhh… f-fill me up with your puppies Leon--!” you suddenly cry out, your pussy walls squeezing around his cock as he continues to thrust into you.

Leon growls in response, placing one of his hands onto your back to push you into the mattress as he fucks you relentlessly. His instincts are in overdrive, his thoughts completely overtaken by his burning desire to breed you. 

“Oh my god… you’re such a good boy, Leon!” you praise him, completely drunk off his cock, your legs trembling as you’re filled with complete ecstasy.

You suddenly feel his cock start to swell inside you and you quickly realize he is knotting. It feels surprisingly good, making you feel full. You sit up on your knees, pressing your back against his chest as he continues to thrust into you. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, nuzzling your cheek against his as his hands find their way to the front of your body, caressing your breasts as his chin rests on your shoulder.

“I can’t wait…” Leon starts, his voice rough, “to see your belly full of my puppies.”

You repeatedly moan his name, the word fuck and good boy as he pounds his cock into you, your legs starting to feel weak as they violently tremble. Before they give way, a sudden warmth fills your pussy as he pushes himself inside you as hard and deep as he possibly can, his hands gripping both your breasts tightly as he bites into your shoulder. You let out an animalistic moan as you also cum on his cock, your greedy cunt milking his seed deep inside your womb. 

Both of you collapse onto the bed in exhaustion with his length still buried inside you, ensuring that not a single drop of his cum is wasted. His arms and legs wrap around you as his face nuzzles into the back of your neck. Your whole body is trembling, completely overwhelmed by how good Leon was for you. You reach back, running your hand through his hair and caressing one of his puppy ears, whispering softly to him that he is a good boy.

You’re going to get used to this.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader smut #puppy!leon kennedy #gigabyte writes

[danikamariewrites]

Meant to Be

Mob!Azriel x reader AU

A/n: I’m so excited to start this little series! I hope you all enjoy this and thank you for being patient with me. I know I’ve been all over the place lately lol. Also I might change the pov I use in the next fics but we’ll see.

Warnings: none

Series Masterlist

As I’m just about to shut the front desk computer down, the glass door to the gallery swings open. Holding back rolling my eyes, I lift my head ready to tell whoever it is that we're closing. I stop, my lips partially open as my eyes meet the most gorgeous, soft hazel ones. On a beautifully sculpted face with a sharp jawline and soft raven hair. The words died in my throat. Changing to, “How can I help you?”

Gods I need to stop staring. If Feyre was still here she would be making fun of me for ogling the poor male while using my stupid customer service voice. He gives me a bright smile before speaking. “I’m looking for a new piece for my office. The walls are feeling a little bare.” Mother above he sounds like an angel.

I froze again. I’m technically not supposed to be selling paintings to clients, especially walk-ins and new ones. But my boss left me in charge for the rest of the day. It’s Gavin’s own fault he blew off work for a spa day. And I had to help Gavin list all the paintings, so I can absolutely sell one of these bad boys. I was amazed by how much Gavin didn’t know when these paintings came in. And he has the audacity to call himself an art collector.

“Absolutely. Are you looking for anything specific or I can show you a few of my favorite pieces if you’d like.”

As I stand I look around the room to see if anyone else is in the gallery. Two males with similar tan skin and dark hair stand by the door. The more muscular one slightly smirks at me before staring ahead again. I look back at the male in front of me, taking in his suit, the expensive watch, and the thick silver signet ring on his index finger gleaming in the light. Staring at the ring closely I can make out a family crest engraved on the flat surface. Morwood.

The male standing in front of me is notorious mob boss Azriel Morwood. Recovering quickly I smile up at Azriel, burying any kind of fear that was working its way up my spine. He isn’t here to hurt me. He’s here to buy art. Harmless.

Relaxing, I walk around the desk, gesturing to the left of the gallery. “This way then.” Azriel holds out his arm for me to take, that bright smile never once leaving his lips. Although it might not be the most professional thing to do, I loop my arm through his.

As we go from painting to painting Azriel seems to relax as well. We fall into easy conversation. At times it feels like we were childhood friends catching up. His flirtatious comments made me blush and fumble over my words. At the risk of being unprofessional again, I flirt back. There’s no denying the male is beautiful. I’m sure he’s kind under all of those dangerous layers. I can’t help the pull I feel toward him, to know more about Azriel. I should feel ashamed of this attraction. Azriel has done awful things but that feeling isn’t taking over.

“And that’s it for this collection. Is there anything else that’s caught your eye?” I ask, regretfully pulling away from Azriel as I snap back into my customer service voice. A stark contrast to the normal flirty tone I was just using. He seemed to take his time thinking. Azriel’s hazel eyes seem to twinkle as he looks at me. “That Blanch piece, I loved the two you showed me.” “Of course.” I lead him to the middle of the section where the two paintings hang side by side.

He looks at the two trying to decide between the two. “Which is your favorite?” I look at him, taken aback by Azriel Morwood asking for my opinion. “Well…I can’t choose between the two. Truthfully, I believe Blanch created these pieces to complement each other. They’re from two different collections but you can tell by the edge of the scenery they are meant to be together.” Azriel let out a thoughtful hum as he crossed his arms.

I try not to stare at him too blatantly but I just can’t help myself. His thinking face is cute. I can tell he’s concentrating. “I’ll take both.” My eyes widened. I'm so shocked I took half a step back. “I’m sorry?” I realize that it came out harsher than expected. “Sorry, I just - really? You want to buy both?” A half smile tugs at the corner of his lips as Azriel turns to face me. “If they are meant to be together it would be a crime to separate them.” There was something insinuating in that seductive tone of his. The hopeful look in his eyes gave it away. Something told me Azriel rarely let something like that slip. I give him a genuine half smile of my own. “Of course.”

Fifteen minutes and one giant check later Azriel had bought his paintings with the promise to come pick them up after they were framed tomorrow. Finally closing the gallery I went home and dreamed of him that night.

——

Walking down the sunny streets of Velaris I’m lost in thought about Azriel. How I want to run my fingers to see if those raven locks are truly as soft as they look. Those hazel eyes and how I never want them to lose sight of me.

My phone incessantly buzzing in my bag pulls me from my thoughts. I groan as I search for it in the clutter of stuff I threw in this morning. Fifteen texts from Feyre and more incoming light up the lock screen.

Girl get here soon

Gavin is piissseeddd

What did u do lmao

He won’t tell me, plz tell me so I know before him. I wanna taunt him with this secret info

Oh boy. He must not be pleased about the new client. I quickly type out a text telling her I’d be there soon. Shoving my phone back in my bag, my pounding heart seems as loud as my footsteps. I’m practically jogging by the time I enter the gallery.

Feyre looks up at me from the desk. A wild and confused look is on her face like she was just handed the winning lottery ticket. “He’s been on the phone with Benny all morning. I could hear him screaming, what did you do?” A nervous laugh sounds on the last word.

As I open my mouth to answer the door to Gavin’s office flings open, hitting the wall inside with a violent thud. “You!” He seethes. “Why didn’t you call me about the client last night?!” He screeches as he stomps over to the desk like a child. “What was I supposed to do? Say, sorry, come back later? It was Azriel Morwood.” Feyre lets out a dramatic gasp leaning back in the spinny chair. Her eyes bounce between us, waiting to see what wild statement her ears will be blessed with next.

“I know damn well who the client was, and you’re not supposed to make sales! Remember? Or has your sense of self importance around here made it hard for you to remember that you're a fucking intern! And you have no right —” a throat clearing makes Gavin stop his berating. His face went pale as his eyes landed on Azriel and the two males flanking him.

Azriel raises a brow giving Gavin a quizzical look. Gavin puts on a fake smile striding to greet our guests. “Hello Mr. Morwood! How can I help you today? Is there a problem with your purchase that I can fix?” He shoots me a glare that I don’t notice. All I notice is Azriel. It feels like the whole world has melted away and it’s just us.

“No.” His tone cruel and cold. “I would like to talk to y/n. Alone.” He emphasizes the last word by pinning Gavin with a look that would send anyone running. The shock on Gavin’s face is fucking priceless as he backs away murmuring an apology.

I slowly approach Azriel trying to suppress my grin. He watches me with a gentle gaze. That charming smile pulling on his lips again. “Hi,” Mother above that deep, gravelly voice gives me chills. “Hi.” I whisper back. “Your paintings should be ready soon. I saw the framer when I came in.” Azriel slowly shakes his head. “No, not that. Well, yes, I’m here for the paintings. But I wanted to ask you something.” I blink up at him curiously tilting my head. What could he possibly want from me?

“Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?”

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #azriel #azriel au #azriel x y/n #azriel x female!reader

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: A New World {6}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: Last race before summer break begins. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, team friction, bad language, fluff WC: 2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven

Belgium Grand Prix Doctor Turner didn’t know where to look. She had started off looking at you but once Charles started to speak her attention was turned and then Lando chimed in too. Her poor neck was straining with flitting back and forth between the three of you sitting across from her desk.

“I think it is the stress,” Lando said as he squeezed your hand.

“I think it is the medication,” Charles countered, a familiar argument brewing. “Things started to change after she started taking it.”

Dr Turner hummed as she made her notes and prompted him for more as he fell silent. “Changes such as?”

You zoned out of the conversation. The whole appointment was a result of the family meeting they had called and the information was nothing new to you. You were moody, you were tired, you were hungry. Charles had been the one to suggest it was the hormones from the contraception. He had even gone so far as to unfold the very, very large sheet of side effect information hidden in the box. 

“-and her weight.”

“Thanks, Charles. Love you too,” you muttered.

“Not like that, chérie,” he said as he turned to face you, cupping your cheek gently. “You are beautiful and I love your body, but you are training a lot harder with Kristian to maintain your race weight and you didn’t have to do that before.”

That much was true. The team had even stopped putting sandbags in the car for testing since the car was no longer underweight. You had thought your fireproofs had shrunk in the wash when you pulled them on in Hungary last weekend and the sleeves had cut into your wrists. There’s skintight and then there’s skintight.

​​”Those were all possibilities we discussed at the time,” Dr Turner said with a nod. “They are quite common with hormonal contraceptives so you likely wouldn’t find any change with the alternative options like the injection or the rods.”

“See, told you this was pointless. I just have to deal with it.”

“Or you could stop taking them,” Lando suggested. 

“Given the choice…you want to go back to condoms?”

“As much as we enjoy the benefits, it’s not worth it if this is the cost,” Charles answered for the both of them. “Just stop taking the pills for a while and see how you feel.”

You sighed with defeat but you accepted the plan with a nod. “At least I’m stressed enough that there’ll still be no periods. Yay for me.”

Lando snorted a laugh at your sarcasm but Charles didn’t find the humour as he shook his head and thanked Dr Turner for fitting us into her busy schedule. It wasn’t as busy as yours since you needed to get to Côte d'Azur Airport to catch a ride with Max to Belgium, you and half the grid apparently.

“Well that was a waste of time, and now we need to go shopping for condoms,” you muttered as you left her office and got in your car. “Do you think Costco sells them in bulk boxes?”

“I am not buying cheap Kirkland branded condoms,” Lando said with a cringe. “Fuck that.”

“You also said you would never do dry July but here we are,” you pointed out.

“Except for that one night after Silverstone,” Charles added as he started the car.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m not risking anything less than Durex. I’d rather trust myself to pull out.”

You looked at Charles in the rearview mirror before you both broke out in a fit of laughter as you shook your heads at the idea. 

Lando was offended.

“Hey,” he called as he turned in his seat to look at you. “I could pull out if I wanted to.”

“You’re lucky you’re handsome, because you can’t lie to save your life.”

“We both know how it is when you hit that sweet spot, mon cher,” Charles said as he reached across the gearbox and rested his hand on Lando’s thigh. “It’s too good to resist staying buried in her.”

“I said I could if I wanted to, not that I would or want to.”

By the time you arrived at the airport, and hustled your way through security, you found Max, Daniel and Pierre already seated on the plane and pointed to other empty seats. “Are you expecting the rest of the grid or what?”

“At the rate you're collecting them, maybe,” Max joked. 

You laughed and dropped into the seat opposite your brother, kicking your feet up on his armrest. “You can’t say shit like that in front of Pierre, he gets far too excited. He might even wet your carpet.”

Pierre looked up from his phone and you could tell from the smile on his face that he had been busy texting Kika before he realised what you had said and his lips pouted. “You make me sound like a puppy.”

“Nawww, I wish you had that level of obedience, Gasly.” Your feet were roughly shoved off the seat and you narrowed your eyes at the culprit as the plane began to taxi to the runway. 

“Safety first, zusje, haven’t you read the pamphlet?”

“Why would I do that?” you scoffed as you buckled the belt in. Charles was doing the same where he sat across from Pierre and Lando was next to Daniel. “If something happens at 36,000 feet, bracing isn’t going to save me. Now, are there any stroopwafels on board this thing or do I have to wait another two hours? I'm starving.”

“The last two races have seen a big drop in performance for both you and Lance, and only a few points added to the tally, and now - failing to finish the sprint with that crash. Is this something the team is looking into?”

You wanted to ask if the Sky Sports reporter had a brain cell but took a steadying breath instead and nodded. “Mhmm.”

“So what is Aston Martin doing to get back up where you were competing earlier in the season and what are your hopes for the race tomorrow starting 9th on the grid?”

“We are doing what is always done: look at the data, continue the upgrades, and keep pushing. Same goes for the race, I’ll try my hardest to make up some places and avoid the gravel. I’m usually good at getting off the start line, the car is great for short acceleration so if I see a gap I’ll be going for it. Plus, you know how turn one goes - that might make my job easier if the boys up ahead get greedy.”

“Speaking of boys, this time last year you were heading into the summer break looking for love. What’s the plan this year?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’ll take Max’s advice and adopt a couple of cats this time.” You laughed as Lando and Charles turned to you from their spots in the media pen. “Is that a yes…no…maybe? Oh, that’s their ‘we will talk about this later’ face. I’m going to go now before I get into trouble.”

The smile you had been holding onto fell away as you stepped into the Aston Martin hospitality building and you grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge before you navigated your way to your room. You almost made it there with no interactions, until your fellow driver caught up and clipped your shoulder as he passed by to his room.

Still annoyed at the reporter, you dropped your hand from the doorknob and turned to him. “What’s your problem?”

“You almost had points and you threw them away. That’s what.”

“I spun out, Lance,” you sighed, already exhausted with where the conversation was heading. “It’s wet and it’s Spa, it's easy to have an accident. It’s not like I saw you up there earning any of them.”

“It’s not my seat that’s on the line though,” he stated. 

“Is that a threat?”

“No, it’s just the truth.” His lips curved into the pretentious smile you hadn’t noticed when you joined the team, but it had become irksome to see grow over time. “My seat is secure.”

“If that were true you wouldn’t be wasting your time hassling me over whatever issue you’ve made up in your head.” You enjoyed watching that smile fade. 

“I don’t have an issue with you.”

“Then you feel threatened by me,” you said with a casual shrug. “It’s basic biology, animals attack when they feel in danger.”

“You should do something about that big ego of yours.”

“It’s big like my dick,” you said as you turned the door handle and shoved it open, “so choke on it.”

“Bitch.”

You gasped theatrically as you paused in the doorway. “Lance Strulovitch, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Did I offend you?” 

Your laugh started as a tickle in your throat before your lips peeled back and bared your teeth at him. “Sticks and stones, baby, I kind of like it.”

Realising he wasn't going to get the reaction he wanted from you, he shook his head and stepped away. “You’re all kinds of messed up.”

“Thanks for the assessment, Freud.” You slammed the door shut before he could give a response and screamed as you threw your bottle at the body that suddenly appeared. “Jesus, fuck.”

“Nope, just me,” Max chuckled as he rose from the chair that had been hidden by the door. “Nice to see you get along with your team mate too.”

“Oh that, that was just a friendly sparring match. Nothing to worry about.”

“I did warn you, zusje.”

“Yeah, yeah, you love to say I told you so,” you drawled as you grabbed your drink bottle from the floor and cracked it open. “Anyway, what are you doing, hiding in here acting like the godfather?”

“Our mothers have been conspiring again,” he said with a fond smile. “Family dinner tomorrow night after the race.”

“Won’t you have a winner’s after party planned?”

“I don’t think my liver could handle another one so soon.”

“Serves you right,” you snickered as he opened the door. “Wait, can Pascale, Adam and Cisca come too?”

“I said family dinner, didn’t I? They’re pretty much your in-laws.” He pointed to your table and you followed his finger to see a box overflowing with stroopwafels. “Is that enough or should I get some more for the flight home?”

You grinned as you grabbed one and tore through the packaging, talking with a mouthful. “I thought I was walking?”

“With those manners, you should be.” He started to close the door but changed his mind and stepped back in to pull you into a hug. “I’m glad you didn’t hit the barriers, zusje. Drive safe tomorrow.”

You nodded against his shoulder as you hugged him back.

It was only two days earlier that you ran the track with Pierre in memory of his friend, Anthione, and only five weeks before that another driver had lost his life on the track too. You hadn’t been thinking about that when you spun out, it wasn’t like it was anything close to what Lando did two years ago. 

But your brother would always worry about you.

“You too, Maxy.”

Fifth was the best you could do in the end but for once you weren’t weighed down by the result.

You sat beside Max, sipping from a glass of lemonade that should have been a gin and tonic, and smiled at the story he animatedly recalled from the race. On your other side was Charles, his dimples deepening as Max praised him for the perfect overtake he had made on Lewis to clench third place. Beside him, Lando was grinning proudly and draped his arm over Charles’ shoulder, his fingertips teasing your collarbone.

Your parents lined the other side of the table and you scanned their faces while they were engrossed with the story, not as accustomed to Maxsplaining as you and the other drivers were. No one would have ever thought that the parents of a Red Bull, a McLaren, a Ferrari and an Aston Martin driver would all come together and support them all equally. But there they were. One big happy family.

Click here for the next part.

#charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x reader #Charles leclerc x reader x lando norris #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you

[memospacexx]

Forgot to out my thing on MY BAD u can now send requests i think yayaayayay

Disclaimer!! This MIGHT be OOC cause we dont really know much about mammon as of now, when we get more on him i will be updating my general headcanons for him!!!

- initially he js thought you were the one who brought the most money thats why you stood out to him(sure)

- in this scenario I’ll make it so you work under him, managing his sales and making the advertisments n shit or whatever but its up to you wholeheartedly

- a succubus????did u seduce him???😞

- he genuinely started to get hissy whenever anyone talks to you…not that anyone really knew-

-you did not know he saw that. YOU DIDNT KNOW HE EVEN ACKNOWLEDGED YOU

-tbh if he ever put his ego aside and actually asked you out it would be like this:

“Eyyy if it isnt my favorite Succubus!”

favorite?you have NEVER SPOKEN TO HIM BEFORE

“Hello Sir-“

“Drop the sir sweetheart, anyways, i was wonderin if you would accompany me to this fine new restaurant?to discus the..urm sales of course!”

Lie buzzer sound

You thought it was lies but like…u cant really say that to a sin-

“Oh, of course sir it would be an honor” was he fr is this rlly abt that

-Do people know? NO cant risk that-

-However Fizz did find out- walked into you two laughing together, and to fizz, THATS WEIRD…Mammon??being nice??making someone actually laugh without insulting them?? Time to tell ozzie(before he quit)

-also you and fizz get along. I js wanted to point that out, you managed the sales of his robo-self, thats how he found you, he thinks your funny, and when he found out you and mammon were an item he was like

“Are you alright”

“What🤨”

-yeahhh…Ozzie does threaten him with it, like blackmail, but he wouldn’t actually leak that info unless it was an actual must, he knows how it feels 🤷‍♀️

-you two cant exactlyy go on dates, cos of the public, usually you two just watch a movie in his abode🫶🫶🫶

No he wont share popcorn. Get ur own (he will whine if u dont share yours cos he finished his)

If he were to buy gifts he asks his underlings to buy it. They dont question him (he will throw a hissy fit and probably kill them if they ask ngl😭)

Speeking of underlings they hate u lmaoo

They dont like the special treatment u get smh

But they arent mean to you( mammon will kill them💀)

And they refuse to tell anyone cause the fear they have for the sin of greed is INSANE

He made it clear if they gossiped he will indeed set everything they love on fire 😋

-you mention this new dress? Woah its on your (shared) bed

-scrolling thru ur phone and you linger on a specific item? Damn how did that get on your desk

-Favorite food? Say less(he ate it and had to get another but its okay)

But imma explain your job- basically you managed the sales and in-charge of the the advertisement,making sure it reaches the…right audience

And how you met(you didnt meet him when you got the job, someone else was handling it)

How he noticed you was all on accident

(You tripped infront of him . He thought it was the funniest thing for a day then he couldn’t get you out his head for a week)

He bought you VERY high heels as a joke bc of it😭😭😭

Tho a downside of his, in any relationship, doesn’t matter how much he gives and gives, it always feels like he’s taking too. You always have to be there, but not as a lover at times since your relationship isnt public. You have to always be there when hes out, he promoted you so you could be his “secretary “ so he had an excuse to keep you on a tight leash , he might try to isolate you tbh, hes greedy, he wants you all to himself, after arguing w him abt it he doesnt, thankfully, but hes just painfully possesive, but doesnt isolate you from anyone, just demands most of your time is on him

——————————————————

I hope this is to your likingg🫶🫶🫶

@nachowtoast

#helluva boss mammon x reader #mammon x reader #helluva boss mammon #helluva boss season two #helluva boss ozzie #fizzaroli helluva boss #helluva boss spoilers #helluva boss season 2 #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss #.memospace

[ravencincaide]

When you assume you make an ‘ass’ out of me and you 

Summary: Finding out you’re pregnant, you decide to end things over text. Too bad Chuuya and Dazai were NOT buying your poor excuses. Or the time you made them very happy. 

Pairing: preg! Reader x Dazai x Chuuya

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 5: Embracing 

Warnings: pregnancy, cursing, hint at (kinky) intimacy, 

Enjoy ~

______________________________________________________________

You were feeling like shit. And that was a huge statement considering that you had only ever taken a handful of sick days; turning up to work despite broken bones, staples keeping your skin somewhat together and internal bleeding. Cold was a minor inconvenience and sprained muscles could be forced to function. Ear inflammation was harder but still doable. After all, your job wasn’t all about active field work. A lot of it was information checking online, monitoring people or groups activities through other teams reports or keeping an eye on bank data so your team was within its budget for missions, leisure or other necessities. Damn, it was a miracle how you managed to fix it the last budging year when you had two subordinates who were the definition of shooting maniacs, one chronic alcoholic, and an illiterate clutz who could never find receipts or who somehow switched up numbers in their reports to the point of giving you a heart attack. 

Thereby being away even for a day not only risked your office becoming a shooting range, no work being done, missions delayed however, most importantly, your steady tower of paperwork growing into an unmanageable city. You were on your second week away from the office, with no real prognosis for when you’d feel well enough to be back. And you were dreading going back.

Your boss has turned up a few days prior, had taken a thirty second look at you before you ran to the bathroom throwing up and had essentially three things to say to you while you were hugging the porcelain pony:

“ If it’s a stomach bug, get it cured before you even think about entering the office. If you’re pregnant-” the words had made your head snap up in total shock at a possibility you hadn’t even considered. Seeing as your boss brought it up, clearly she thought that you might be. Maybe not that shocking given that you were fucking more than average “ and want an abortion then hurry up and get it done before its too late. And see you in the office at the end of the month.” You could practically feel the warning look from your boss through the heavy wooden door, threatening you not to sweep this issue under the carpet and to keep her updated. “ If you intend to keep it then get your prenatals in order and see you in three years.” With those words she, being the ever caring friend she was, dropped two packets of pregnancy tests on your desk before leaving you alone. 

When the results came back positive it was not necessarily a shocker. What surprised you more was that the nauseous feeling came as spontaneously as it did and how tired you felt most days. How exhausted thinking, or in your case overthinking, made you. It felt as if that little test, or five, somehow made you grow up overnight. From a carefree young adult doing whatever you wanted, missions, drinking or wild kinky sex you were suddenly expected within the next nine months to become a mother. A responsible and caring adult that would make yourself, your children and your own parents proud. You didn’t know if you were going to succeed with that but you were damn determined to give your baby the best childhood and care you could. And step one in that equation was to remove people out of your life who did not want a serious relationship with you or were interested in raising a baby together. You did not need forced commitment or alimony; what you needed was a partner and a father to your child. And since you were certain your lovers were not up to the role, you were certain you’d do a much better job alone by yourself- as always!  

Still you never expected you would become the kind of trashy person who’d end things over text. You couldn’t understand how people could do it; either talk to the person you want to break up with or do a Dazai and just ghost. This felt too much like attachment issues wrapped in apology for you. Knowing you were already gonna earn a place in hell for it, you typed up a message that you were certain they’d hate you for. Which was perfect in your mind, if you were shooting yourself in the foot by breaking up with two executives who outranked you and your boss by a mile then the least you could do was make sure they wouldn’t unnecessarily seek you out. You’d deal with their revenge on you when you got back from parental leave. 

Thus when the sound of pounding on your door came many hours later you were certain it was your boss again. Either to scold you for the extra workload she got from her bosses thanks to yours truly or to kidnap you to the hospital. Dragging yourself out of bed with a groan you quickly ran a brush through your hair for a more presentable appearance. Giving up on changing out of the t-shirt and shorts you headed for the door, opening it absentmindedly. Too late you realized you should have checked who it was. 

“ What the hell are you two doing here?” You asked, making your meanest look as you crossed your arms over your chest. You were certain it looked more like a chihuahua barking at a rottweiler than anything threatening.

“ Checking if it’s a hostage situation, Bella” You gaped as Chuuya and Dazai brushed past you. Your dark haired ex-lover making his way to your bedroom, hand on the hilt of his gun. Before you could stop him, Chuuya, who was still lingering in the doorway, forced your attention by sticking his phone into your face with your textmessage pulled up on the screen.  

Thank you for this time, I’ve found a better dick. No hard feelings.

“ What is this damned thing?” He asked, his voice far above the usual caring and loving tone he’d use with you. 

“ What does it look like?” You raised your hand and studied the chipped manicure on your nails no longer able to stand the angry and hurt expression on his face. “ I’m breaking up with you, duh.”  

“ Heeh what the hell do you mean by that Y/N? Better dick?” He took a step closer to you, his expression growing darker by the second “ We all know you’re a slut for us, ready to let us do whatever we want to you so stop lying and spit out what’s really going on.” he was gripping your arms tightly. When you refused to look at him he gave you a rough shake in warning. 

“ What the hell-” you caught your exclamation that ‘it hurts’ knowing that it was exactly what he was going for at that moment. “ It’s as I said, I found someone new”

“ How long?!” he didn’t yell but somehow that made it even worse. When you didn’t reply immediately he shook you again “ And what’s so great about this supposed new person.” 

You felt your eyes sting and closed them for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady your nerves. Your next sentence was a hit below the belt; “ They’re actually sweet and caring towards me. Not just after sex.” 

“ Sweetheart-” the look on Chuuya’s face was as if you had slapped him, the arguments caught in his throat. 

You looked away from him, shaking his hands off your shoulders. Your heart was tearing itself in your ribcage, Begging you to stop this nonsense. But you wouldn’t- you couldn’t. You needed to protect the child in your tummy, to shelter them from the constant fighting, every other week visitation, jealousy and screaming. You needed to  prevent them from becoming a pawn in a game called ‘hurt the other parent more’.

“ Sweetheart, do you really believe that-?” Chuuya asked carefully.  

“ -Or is it just that you are pregnant Y/N?” Dazai’s question made you jump, your head snapping in his direction. You could see him leaning against the doorway, an unreadable expression on his face. Damn you hated it when he did that. 

“ I don’t know what you’re talking about '' you lied, back to crossing your arms over your chest. “ I’m done with this conversation so please get out.” 

“ Come on Y/N the cats out of the bag now” Dazai looked almost too pleased with himself as he held up the pregnancy test he had fished out of the trashcan. 

You felt the colour drain from your face. Your mouth opening and closing as your mind raced between forcing them out of your apartment and lying about it, again. 

“ Is it a false positive?” Chuuya asked cautiously, eyeing the brunette. 

“ There are five more in there,” Dazai shrugged, silently telling him to draw his own conclusions, as he took a step towards you. You cursed yourself for not taking the trash out sooner.  

“ Is it ours?” The question made you hang your head in defeat. “ Belladonna is it-” Dazai growled in warning. 

“ Yes” you breathed. You could feel them sharing a look of utter confusion between each other over your head. 

“ Darlin, then why the charades?” 

“ Because you wouldn’t want it!” you screamed at the top of your lungs “ and I- we don’t need a partner out of obligation.”   

Silence lingered in your apartment for a few long moments. You wrapped your arms around yourself. You just wanted them to stop making this harder on you than it already was. Now that they knew the reason for all this, you prayed they wouldn’t cause any more hassle and just silently walk out of the apartment. That they’d walk out of your life and leave you alone. Without any fighting, pity or compromises. Just go, you pleaded silently, before you’d find yourself regretting your decision.   

“ You assumed we wouldn’t want it,” Chuuya corrected you. You raised your head finally facing your lover, ready to scream at him- them to get out. The scream never made it past your lips, his expressing killing any arguments you had left;  you had expected distress or anger on his face, maybe sadness or guilt but all you could see was a bright happy smile. “ And when you assume something you make an ‘ass’ out of me and you. Now come here my sweetheart” he spread his arms out beckoning you for a hug. 

You had never seen that expression on Chuuya’s face. It was as if you had gifted him the sun and moon on a silver platter. You felt all fight fading out of your body, leaving behind just tiredness and longing for his warm embrace.Cautiously you came up to him, breathing a sigh of relief as he hugged you close yet gently to his body, burying his face in your shoulder. “ Oh sweets you’re gonna be a mother- I’m gonna be a father!” 

“ Or uncle” Dazai added unable to stop himself from pushing Chuuya’s buttons“ You’re so cute Chuuya ready to be a dad to my kids”  

“ Shut it mackerel” Chuuya muttered “ You’re just jealous she’s hugging me.” 

“ And you’re just denying the undeniable” 

Chuuya growled in reply before biting back the anger, turning his attention towards you instead. The smile never once leaving his face “ So don’t you dare try and break up with us over this again, ‘kay?” Chuuya moved  back and pressed a kiss to your forehead before brushing your hair out of your eyes “- or you’re welcome to break up with bandages over there”  he teased, making you smile slightly as Dazai let out an annoyed ‘ you dog’. 

Surprisingly the argument didn’t go any further than that. Instead Dazai’s attention was shifting between you in Chuuya’s arms and the little white test still clutched between his fingers before he finally broke the silence:“ By the way Belladonna have you had your doctors visit yet? To ensure the little one is fine.”

You sighed, shaking your head a no. “ I haven’t really got around to it yet” 

“ That won’t do!” Chuuya cried pulling back from you instantly, his hand already dialing his subordinates, while he was walking towards the door then turning around and pacing back into your room“ Yes I need you to find the best prenatal care doctor in Yokohoma- yes directly I don’t care how much they charge- Sweetheart where is your insurance and identification card?” 

You blinked as he stopped in front of you, blue eyes staring at you intensely “ umm In the kitchen, furthest cupboard to the right- top draw. Should be under the travel pamphlet.” Before you could finish your sentence he was already out of the room going to hunt for your documents. 

Still you could hear him talking on the phone, beginning to list a bunch of things he wanted delivered to your place within the next fifteen minutes; childcare books, research on food that was safe to eat during pregnancy, alcohol- he was clear to specify it was for himself- and some safe alcohol free options.

“ - and prepare statistics on best child care facilities in Yokohama, and broker offers for all the housing around those areas -and–” 

“ Chuuya don't just start randomly buying things” you yelled, staring to follow behind him pausing only when a very gentle hand wrapped itself around your wrist. In fact you were half way pulling out of the touch before your mind registered it. The unusual softness surprised you. Usually Dazai was unapologetically rough during sex; unafraid to slap, hit or even whip you and it was Chuuya who showed you in butterfly touches, kisses over bruised skin and soft embraces.

“ Let him be Y/N” Dazai stated, his voice sounding strange in your ears. His hand falling away from your wrist the instant you turned to face him. You could see that his head was bowed, his hair covering his eyes from you. Sometime during your and Chuuya’s embrace he had moved to sit down on a nearby chair. Wordlessly he patted his lap, silently asking you to sit down instead of the usual act of just pulling you into it. You looked at him skeptically as you took your place on his lap. The moment you did he buried his face in your shoulder, his arms pausing inches above your skin as if you’d shatter in his arms if he touched you.. 

“ Are you okay?” You asked as you urged him closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Taking it as permission he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you carefully to his chest, burying his face in your hair. He held you like that for a few moments, totally silent but for an almost unnoticeable shake of his shoulders “ Dazai, are you crying?” 

His response was to bring you even closer

“ Dazai, are you okay?” You asked again with more worry in your voice. He hushed you, stroking your hair. You were starting to panic at his reaction, your mind racing so much that you almost missed his answer to your previous question; 

“ I’m more ‘okay’ than ever, Y/N”

#chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya #sweetober #pregnant #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #pregnancy announcement #breaking up over text

[dirtyvulture]

Dear Diary

*Set in the Darkest Knight AU*

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Mutant!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 4459

Summary: Natasha embraces her new life as an X-Men.

AN: I'm back with a little one shot. :) Enjoy!

December 6, 2023

Dear Diary,

Is that an appropriate way to start one of these? I’ve never kept a diary or a journal before. But Marie gave me this cute little notebook and said writing stuff down helps clear her mind, so I don’t think there’s any harm in giving it a shot. They would never let us have something like this in the Red Room. Too much evidence lying around for someone to stumble upon. Should I put a lock on this? Y/N wouldn’t snoop around to read this, would she? Well, I guess if she is–leave my diary alone, you big dummy!

The professor said the Red Room soldiers and Widows are coming tomorrow. This is all my fault. I’ve put these good people and innocent children in danger. Earlier, we went to help the kids pack their bags and board the buses. I’m not sure if Y/N has any kids of her own (or ever did at all), but I can tell she really cares about them. Although she was not happy with some of the excessive luggage some of them were bringing. No one would tell me where they’re sending the kids, but I overheard Ororo mention something about a private resort they had to buy out.

I still don’t quite understand why these people are willing to sacrifice so much for me. I’m basically a stranger to them. I have nothing to give them in return if they ask. Maybe they’ll finally throw me out when they realize how worthless I am. That’s what I really deserve. Not these warm clothes, the home-cooked meals, and this roof over my head. And I definitely don’t deserve the kindness and care Y/N has shown me. I really like her, but I’m afraid she’ll leave me when she realizes how boring and inexperienced I am. 

Oh, I think she’s coming out of the shower now. I’ll continue this later.

Love,

Nat

***********************************************************************

December 15, 2023

Dear Diary,

It’s weird how life goes back to normal so fast here. The Red Room soldiers and Widows were here not even a week ago, tearing down doors and blasting out windows, and everything is already repaired and the students are back at it like nothing happened.

A lot of them are excited to go back to their homes and families for the holiday. But a lot of them will also be staying at the mansion, because their families won’t accept them or they just don’t have any home to go back to. The professor asked Y/N to help plan some holiday games so the kids staying don’t get too bored or lonely. She’s acting like it’s the dumbest assignment he’s ever given her, but I’ve seen her spending all her free time ordering presents and decorations (with the professor’s credit card, of course), so I know she takes it very seriously and the kids are going to love whatever she comes up with.

I’m really glad I get to spend Christmas here. It’s been a long time since I’ve actually been able to celebrate it with people I love. I feel so welcomed here and no one looks at me like I’m any different, when I come from a past where there’s red all over my ledger. Sometimes I’m surprised anyone even lets me be around these kids alone, but some of them have powers that even make Y/N nervous, and I think they know they can trust me.

It’ll take some more time before I can be fully comfortable here, but it’s really starting to grow on me and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Love,

Nat

***********************************************************************

December 25, 2023

Natasha wakes up alone. She looks around the bedroom, in case you might be on the floor doing push-ups or in the bathroom showering, but the room is completely empty. Her heartbeat picks up as she jumps out of bed, afraid that you’ve left her, when she notices a note on the desk.

Downstairs making breakfast. Come join when you’re up - Y/N

She relaxes immediately, touched how you made sure to let her know in advance where you would be. She quickly washes up and puts on a robe, then hurries downstairs to a chaotic mess of torn gift wrapping, screaming children, and flashing new toys. She steps into the kitchen, where you are wearing a flowered apron and are threatening Marie with a spatula.

“Stop, those aren’t ready–Marie!” You swat at her hands as she swipes for a pancake.

“Merry Christmas, Miss Nat!” Marie says, moving your attention away from her as your girlfriend appears.

“Merry Christmas, Marie.” Natasha gives the girl a hug, not missing the folded pancake in her hand. 

“Merry Christmas, darling,” you say next, waiting for her to come over. “I made a special plate for you. It’s over here so the kids don’t get into it.” You point to a foil-covered plate off to the side of the stove. Natasha goes to investigate, peeling back the foil to find the plate fully-loaded with two different types of pancakes, one next to a little container of jam and honey, and the other still steaming and garnished with flecks of green onion. There’s even a bowl of grainy buckwheat porridge. Her heart soars at the sight of her favorite native breakfast. With a delighted squeal, she throws herself into your arms.

“Thankyou thankyou thankyou,” she choruses, squeezing you tightly as you rub her back.

“You’re welcome, darling.” 

At this point, you shoo everyone out of the kitchen to finish the preparations. Natasha joins Marie in the dining hall, helping set up the plates and silverware. She watches with great curiosity as Kitty tries getting Peter to step under the mistletoe she hung above the doorway, and then is distracted when Jean and Scott come down for breakfast.

“Y/N cooks Christmas breakfast for us every year,” Jean explains to Natasha. “The kids always look forward to it.”

“Hey, Y/N!” Scott yells into the kitchen. “Keep the walnuts away from my food, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Natasha hears you dismissively respond.

“Scott’s allergic,” Jean whispers to her. “Now there’s no proof how, but he ended up with a plateful of them last year and I almost had to take him to the hospital. Needless to say, it was an eventful Christmas.”

Natasha giggles to herself, already having a feeling she knows exactly how those walnuts got on Scott’s plate.

Everyone finds a seat at the table, the empty one next to Natasha reserved for you. You finally emerge from the kitchen, no longer in the flowered apron but one of your classic checkerboard flannels. You’re carrying an impressive tower of pancakes in one hand and a pan filled half and half with bacon and sausage in the other. The students break out in appreciation and applause as Bobby scoots aside some dishes to make room for the last trays.

“Don’t take more than you can finish,” you remind the kids, going around the table to sit next to Natasha and presenting her with her special plate. “And uh, Merry Christmas, happy holidays, and all that other stuff.” You raise your apple cider in a toast and everyone follows your lead.

“Thanks for breakfast, Y/N,” Ororo says, clinking her glass to yours. The students erupt with more thanks before they start reaching for the food, passing around the mountainous plate of pancakes, scooping whole fried eggs onto each other’s plates.

“Thanks again, babe,” Natasha says, putting her hand on your thigh as she leans over to kiss you on the cheek.

“You should try it first before thanking me,” you tease, still not used to all the praise. You were just trying to be a good partner, and it was somewhat of a Christmas tradition for you to cook breakfast for all the students who stayed at the mansion over break. You didn’t mind it at all, in fact you really did enjoy spending time in the kitchen and it made you feel good to take care of others.

Natasha leaves her hand on your knee as she eats, and eventually you put your hand on top of hers comfortingly. Neither of you engage much in conversation as you eat and listen, happy with the company. Once all of the food has been finished, Ororo rounds up the students to help clean everything before they can continue opening presents. 

Kitty gets you a Johnny Cash vinyl record. Marie and Bobby got you a variety pack of exotic flavors of jerky, including alligator, ostrich, and buffalo. Storm gives you and Natasha tickets to a weekend getaway at a Canadian resort. Jean and Scott also throw in a joint gift of a new set of winter bedsheets. You are very thankful for the presents and pile them neatly by your feet, when Natasha pulls out a box and puts it on your lap. Inside is a familiar-looking flannel shirt.

“It’s a brand new one,” Natasha says. “To replace all the ones I steal from your closet,” Natasha says.

“Thanks,” you say, putting your arm around her to pull her closer so you can kiss her cheek. “This one is from me.” You hand her a very small box.

Natasha opens it delicately and gasps when she sees what you’ve given her. It’s a wooden ring, carved a little roughly around the edges  with little turquoise-colored gems pressed into the outside.

“Did you make this?” Natasha asks, running her finger over the gems.

“Uh, yeah.” You’re suddenly nervous that she doesn’t like it. Woodworking was not your finest hobby, despite your decades to fine-tune the skill, but you preferred to build vast structures and furniture. Tiny little pieces of jewelry were extremely difficult to handle, but hopefully it was worth the numerous cuts and splinters you gave yourself. 

Natasha slips it on her right ring finger–a perfect fit. Maybe you needed to give yourself more credit for your handiwork.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, holding her hand up to admire the ring. “I love it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” 

Natasha snuggles closer to you and rests her head on your shoulder while you sit back and watch everyone else finish opening their gifts.

***********************************************************************

The rest of the day is busy but productive. Natasha has never felt happier watching the students competitively decorate gingerbread houses, then go outside and play in the snow. You don’t join in anymore, preferring to watch from the side. You’re already wearing the flannel Natasha got for you and Natasha gazes at you adoringly from afar. Despite the differences the two of you had from time to time, she hasn’t loved another person the way she loves you. But sometimes she worries that you don’t feel the same way. 

You still don’t talk very much, hardly opening up about your past the way Natasha has spilled about hers. Although you seem mostly content at the mansion, Natasha can tell you’re still adjusting to being around so many people. The life of solitude in the cabin in the woods had clearly been more your style, and she feels guilty for dragging you away from that. But as much as she would love to spend all day with you cozied up in a cabin you built with your own hands, it wasn’t a realistic option. Not with all the threats and dangers that could come her way.

Which is why it was so important to Natasha that the Red Room be dealt with, as soon as possible.

She didn’t like how dismissive you got every time she brought it up, but she understood why. You had found your domestic bliss and didn’t want to let it go anytime soon. She wasn’t going to blame you. But she wished you would actually listen to her instead of shutting her down all the time. She would figure out how to broach the topic with you eventually, but today was not that day.

After a quiet dinner, which is basically just warmed up leftovers from breakfast, Natasha finds you sitting by yourself on the couch in front of a dying fire. Most of the students had retired to their rooms, exhausted by the day’s festivities. Natasha sits next to you, leaning her shoulder against yours.

“Hey,” she whispers.

“Hi.” You offer her your hand and she clasps onto it, threading her fingers with yours. You smile when you see the wooden ring on her finger. It looks perfect on her. “Did you have fun today?” you ask. 

“It was the best Christmas I ever had,” she replies. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course.”

Natasha is tired, but there’s still one more thing she wants to do with you. She rests her hand on your thigh, subtly at first, then she slowly starts to stroke your leg, her fingers barely perceptible through your jeans. You ignore her and her movements become bolder, creeping towards the inside of your thigh now and squeezing it lightly.

“Can I help you with something?” you finally ask. Natasha has always been a little more shy when it comes to asking for intimacy with you. But you were patient with her and never pressured her, and that encouraged her to have the confidence to ask if you were in the mood–even if she didn’t always do it with words. 

“Do you want to go upstairs?” she says, leaning forward until her lips almost touch yours. “I still have one more present to give you.”

“Oh, do you now?” you ask, trying to kiss her but she pulls away.

“You have to come upstairs,” she repeats, offering you her hand as she stands up.

“All right, all right.” Your knees creak as you push off the couch, taking Natasha’s hand and following her upstairs. You can hear her heartbeat pounding with excitement or maybe that’s…yours? You hope everyone else has gone to sleep by now, otherwise they wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon.

Back in the privacy of the bedroom, you let Natasha lead you to the bed and you sit down on the edge with her climbing onto your lap. 

“Is this okay?” she asks, her hands locking around the back of your neck.

“Of course,” you whisper, leaning in until your foreheads touch. Your arms circle her waist to hold her securely in place. Her breath fans over your face and her heartbeat pumps at an almost alarmingly quick rate. 

“I want you,” she says, rocking her hips against your thighs. “I want you to take me.”

“How do you want me?” you ask, before she presses her lips roughly to yours, her fingers digging into your neck. Her arousal spikes and so does yours. You open your mouth when she licks your lips to deepen the kiss. She tastes like vanilla and cookies and you instinctively pull her closer to you, wanting to devour her until the morning.

Natasha grabs the collar of your flannel, pulling apart the top buttons and running her hands down your chest and abs. Your skin burns where she touches you and you nip lightly on her bottom lip when she rests her hands on the buckle of your belt.

“I want to taste you,” you pant, hoping your request doesn’t come across as too greedy. Natasha has to fight down her thrill of excitement at your suggestion, wondering how you knew exactly what she wanted. She doesn’t even take the time to agree with you, instead hurriedly stripping off her clothes to show you how eager she is. You take off the flannel, setting it aside with reverence, then removing your undershirt and jeans. Natasha tackles you back on the bed, your thigh fitting between her legs and you feel the heat from her center rubbing against you.

“You’re so wet for me,” you say, holding her hips again and guiding her up until she’s hovering over your chest. “My good girl.”

“Your good girl,” Natasha reiterates, grabbing onto the headboard for support before she positions herself over your face. The scent of her arousal is almost overwhelming to you, and you waste no time bringing your arms over her thighs to pull her down. Natasha whines when your mouth makes contact with her slick center, your tongue slipping into her and coating with her juices. 

Natasha moans, grinding down so you can enter her deeper. Your arms tighten to prevent her from moving too much; you want to do things at your own pace. Her taste is so intoxicating and addictive, you could lie here forever eating her out. Natasha grips the headboard tighter, struggling to rock against your face for more friction, but you won’t let her. She whines in desperation, the noises music to your ears. Your tongue dips into her again before tracing up to her clit, flicking against it and Natasha grinds down harder on your chin, gasping and moaning. 

“Y/N,” she begs. “Y/N, please.”

You stop, pulling away from her far enough to say, “What do you want, baby?”

“I want you,” she repeats, her voice breaking. “I need you.”

“I know, baby. I got you.” As much as you love teasing her, this is not the time. You knew Natasha could sometimes be insecure about your relationship with her. But you had no regrets in choosing to be with her and loved her so much. You would never miss an opportunity to show her, either.

You loosen your arms around her so she has some freedom to move and Natasha quickly adjusts herself until she’s comfortable. When she settles back down on your face again, you find her clit and wrap your lips around it, rewarded with a long, drawn-out moan. Natasha rolls her hips to help you find a good rhythm. You feel her thighs tremble and more of her slick spills onto your tongue. 

“Oh, god. Oh fuck, Y/N,” she whimpers, the headboard flexing dangerously from how hard she’s holding onto it. 

Your stomach practically burns from how aroused you are with Natasha riding your face, and you’re hoping she’ll help you relieve some of the tension once you make her finish. You’ve held out as long as you could, and you can tell Natasha is ready to fall over the edge. Your tongue rests on her clit again, swiping upwards in a straight line, then dragging down at a diagonal angle, then going back up.

N.

Your tongue moves in an inverted V next, drawing an imaginary bar between them.

A.

You lick down her clit once more, then swipe perpendicular.

T.

Natasha is panting and shaking, completely unaware that you’re trying to spell her name on her with your tongue. One of her hands has left the headboard and is holding tightly onto your hair in an attempt to guide you, but your own plan is already in action.

She doesn’t make it the next A, her back arching and thighs clamping around your head as she finally cums. You don’t let a drop of it go to waste, lapping at her sensitive folds until she’s whimpering and trying to pull your head away. Natasha lifts herself off your face with a contented sigh, turning herself away from the headboard now, but you’re not quite done with her yet.

You pull her back down on your face and she falls forward with her hands on your chest. 

“Did I say you could go anywhere?” you grumble playfully. 

“Y/N,” Natasha giggles. 

“Can I have one more, darling?” you ask, and she responds by sitting back on your face. But now Natasha is the one with other ideas, as she eyes the veins on your flexing abdomen that disappear behind the band of your underwear. You feel her hands run across your stomach and your breath hitches when she tugs down your underwear.

“Nat, what are you–oh, shit.” Now it’s your turn to gasp and moan when Natasha leans over and places her mouth on your dripping center. You completely lose focus of what you were doing, instinctively spreading your legs open further to give her better access. “Fuck baby, oh fuck,” you whine, your head dropping back on the pillow.

“Did I say you could stop?” Natasha teases, turning your own words back against you. It takes a monumental effort, but you calm yourself enough to put your mouth to work again. Natasha almost soaks herself when she realizes how turned on you’ve gotten just from eating her out. Now she has only one mission in mind: make you cum before she does a second time. But you’re refusing to make it easy for her, and Natasha is already dangerously close despite having finished mere minutes ago. She knows she has to hurry, but judging from the tremble in your thighs, you’re closer than you’re letting on.

Natasha’s tongue circles your clit and she can feel you panting against her, your own efforts faltering in their rhythm. She pushes back against your face to remind you of what you promised her. Your fingers dig into the curve of her ass and you feel her breasts rubbing against your abs. Her mouth is so hot and wet and perfect on you, making you lose your breath every time her tongue touches you.

“Fuck, Nat,” you whimper, feeling like you’re losing control of yourself. You’re not even sure if what you’re doing to her anymore is working because all you can think about is the throbbing in your lower stomach that begs to be released. Your back arches off the bed when her tongue lashes at your clit and she struggles and fails to push down on your thighs to keep you grounded. “Nat, I can’t,” you warn, a little embarrassed at how fast you’re ready to release. 

“It’s okay,” you hear Natasha say, “Cum for me, baby.” 

White floods your vision and all the muscles in your body tighten as you spill into her mouth, a moan catching in your throat. Your head spins in a rush of endorphins and you’re practically convulsing underneath Natasha when you finally come down from your high. She purrs in delight at her success, gently squeezing at your thighs. And as much as you want to flip her around and press her head against your chest, you still do owe her.

Natasha’s second orgasm is a little more subdued but just as pleasurable. She bites the inside of your thigh to quiet the noise of her moan and you almost cum again. But once she finds the strength to move, Natasha crawls back up to you, nuzzling the side of your head and kissing you. Normally, you could go several rounds without even stopping for a break, but you’re unusually exhausted today. Maybe it was from waking up at four o’clock to work on breakfast for everyone or making sure that the Christmas activities throughout the day ran smoothly. 

Natasha rests her head on your chest, listening to your steady heartbeat and you rub her shoulder, tilting your head down to breathe in the faded scent of her shampoo. 

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” she whispers.

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

***********************************************************************

January 2, 2024

Dear Diary,

Professor Xavier called me personally to his office today. I was really nervous that I was in trouble for something. I’m still not sure how I feel about his mind-reading thing. I try to keep my thoughts in check when he’s around, but I think that makes it seem like I’m hiding something. But other than that, he’s only ever been polite and respectful to me, and I can tell Y/N really looks up to him as a mentor and father figure.

He told me he has a lead on where the Red Room could be and asked if I still want to pursue them. Of course I do, but I know Y/N isn’t happy about it. I thought she would understand more. I know she’s got her own past that she hasn’t told me the entirety of yet (not that she’s required to), but she’s told a few stories so I know her situation is similar enough to mine. I wish she was more supportive instead of trying to talk me out of it, but I know she’s worried too. She doesn’t want me rushing back into danger and I totally get that. But I just…I can’t stay here and be cared for and protected and loved when there are so many of my sisters still being held against their will and forced into doing horrible things.

Luckily, the professor seems more understanding of things. But I don’t want him or anyone else here risking their lives for me. If I have to go alone, I will. I don’t know if I can do it alone, though. I’m sure Y/N will insist on tagging along no matter what. I just hope she doesn’t get too grumpy about the whole thing.

Love,

Nat

***********************************************************************

January 4, 2024

Dear Diary,

I still haven’t told Y/N what the professor told me 2 days ago (assuming she hasn’t already gone through my diary and read about it here). I tried to mention it after dinner, but I could tell as soon as I let the “R” word slip she was not paying attention to the conversation anymore. I don’t want my frustration to build up, so I’ll probably have to be straightforward about it, which isn’t easy.

I know the professor can hear all of my thoughts, so I wonder if he’s going to get tired of them and just talk to Y/N himself. But probably not. This is my problem to handle. I’ll find the courage somehow to deal with it. 

I just hope it doesn’t cause Y/N to look down on me for this. I’m already nervous that I’m constantly annoying her, and if she gets fed up enough and kicks me out I will literally have nowhere to go and at that point, I’d welcome back the Red Room with open arms. That probably seems a little dramatic, but I really don’t want to risk losing the best person that ever came into my life. I have Y/N to thank for everything I have here, and I think most people in my position would call me crazy for trying to make any changes to my situation. 

But I’m not like most people. And I have to do what I think is right, even if others try to stop me. 

I’ll bring it up to Y/N later again. Maybe if I catch her in a good mood she’ll be more receptive to the idea. Wishing luck to my future self.

Love,

Nat

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Please leave likes, comments, and reblog! Follow for more content. 🥰

Multipart sequel in the works!

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader

[duckchu]

Finally, Settreigh (or however you spell his full name lmao)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Mostly just cuddling after sex, no thoughts, just head between titties (no matter which one of you is the one with the head)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For him, definitely arms, he worked hard for them and loves the fact that he can pick you up with such ease no matter your size. On you, he loves your legs, he thinks they look really attractive

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Inside only

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He loves you so much that he can't live a day without your presence, so he sometimes buys the perfumes you use and sprays his room with them before masturbating

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

The only thing he has close to experience is his mom giving him the whole flowers and bees talk

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Mating press

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Out of Heartsteel, he's the one who you have the highest chance of being goofy during sex with, but he does sometimes want to get serious

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He's hairy down there and it's in the same shade of red as his hair

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He's pretty romantic during the act, pulling you as close to himself as he can and making sure you know how much he loves you

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Not frequently, doesn't really need to when he has you, but even if he doesn't, he masturbates rarely

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding 100%

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bed or against the wall of his bedroom

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Just seeing you in shorter clothes makes him go crazy

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Slapping or spanking you. Even though he can control his strength, he knows how much stronger he is compared to you and doesn't want to risk you getting hurt

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Definitely prefers receiving, sitting at his desk and seeing you under him taking his cock so well

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He's fast and goes hard, he's not here to play

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not really a fan, only if you have no other option

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Prefers to stay in the bedroom rather than have you two be interrupted

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

It's rather a question of how long can you last, man has stamina for days

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Not really, prefers pleasing you himself

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not really, he likes seeing you enjoy yourself rather than beg him for release with teary eyes

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Can keep it down, but he's pretty loud

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

When I say he has a breeding kink, HE DOES straight up going for so long that he's shooting blanks

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Long and thick, 15 cms

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

About 3-4 times per month

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Pretty quickly, after all taking care of such a beauty can be tiring~

#heartsteel x reader #sett lol #sett #sett x reader #heartsteel #heartsteel sett #sett smut #breeding k1nk #x reader smut #lol smut #lol x reader #lol #league of legends #league of legends x reader #league of legends smut

[thecameronchronicles]

Baby Daddy: Alimony

BABY DADDY Part 1!

TW: Toxic!Rafe. Smut. Language. Degrading language. Breeding kink. Dom!Rafe. Daddy kink. Choking kink. Blade play.

SUMMARY: You believe you've finally gotten a step ahead over your toxic baby daddy. Foolish you…

WORD COUNT: 3000

*REQUESTED*

Anonymous asked

could there be a part 2 to baby daddy w rafe? 

Alimony 

He always had a way of winning. Poker. Business. His way into your sheets yet again. At least he had until lately. Excuses and appointments on your end had allowed you the chance to form some sort of dominance over your toxic situationship. And somehow beyond worry and former threats, your heels came to a click through his office on your most recent expression of altered submission. 

"Excuse me, you can't go in there-" His assistant called from behind her desk, desperate for you to obey or risk his wrath. For a moment, you couldn't help but wonder if she had been a replacement to some complaint her predecessor made against Rafe for misconduct. 

"Just a piece of advice…he's not worth the expensive perfume…" You explained as she blushed, the clear unbuttoned decolletage set in such a way to garner his focus as her intentions had been spoiled. Too much in shock to your audacity, you were allowed into his meeting without any further protest. 

"If we focus only on the west-" His words ceased immediately once his eyes fell to you. If not for the look of pride across your face, he would have believed that something happened to your shared offspring. For the absence of this, he simply tightened his jaw to wait for the reason for your presence. 

For the years he had bombarded you and infiltrated your life, you finally had the chance to return the unpleasant favor. Without a second thought, you set down the collection of bills before him with a glare of challenge cast in his direction. 

"If you weren't so busy buying expensive and inappropriate dinners for new assistants you'd know that you're three months late in alimony. Money needed to take care of your son." You spat as he didn't wear an expression of embarrassment, maybe awe, even arousal, but you hadn't been allowed the reaction you sought out. Because of this, you continued. 

"A lifestyle you demand he has. A private school. Expensive clothes and toys he'd be fine without. But since you won't let me raise him modestly…you pay for these…things I could without you…but you won't let me." 

"Excuse me, but this isn't the time or place to exercise your hormonal-" You narrowed your eyes towards the man who spoke against you. One Rafe told you enough about to offer a stain against his reputation amongst fellow colleagues. 

"How's your wife?" He cleared his throat before fixing his tie. 

"What does-"

"Does she know you have a proclivity for your assistant? Your male assistant-"

"Enough. My office. Five minutes." Rafe apologized on your behalf as you left the bills at your back before moving to his office. 

Set at the rim of the desk, your palms rested on the wooden edge as you were left in wait. Pictures of your son lay in pride on his desk along with one of you and him closer to his closed laptop. You couldn't help but feel warmth when on observation of the simpler time. A time before you really knew him and the poor excuse he had for a heart. 

"I've ruined men's lives for less than what you did…" 

"I'm not afraid of you, Rafe. I am tired of all of this…You dictate every aspect of my life with our son even though I am the one with him day in and day out. All of his doctor's appointments. Teaching him to read. Playdates. Sick days. When he broke his wrist last summer from being at the park with the nanny YOU were too busy eye-fucking to to notice!" He clenched his arms, your eyes drawn to the strain of fabric caused by his muscles. 

"So you're mad because I showed interest in someone else?"

"Are you really THAT much of a narcissist? Your son got hurt because you were reckless and put him as anything but a priority!"

He took a step closer to you, the entire collection of oxygen around you seemingly thinned as he drew a finger to his bottom lip. The signet ring on that leading finger forcing your focus to his lips. Those damn lips that held talent no man should be able to possess. The same talent that made you forgive him so many times before. At least long enough to give you both an orgasm. 

"I wasn't "eye-fucking" her-"

"I don't care what you call it Rafe, he got hurt because you were-"

"I was trying not to fuck you in the middle of that park in that goddamn sundress you know makes me hard enough to split you in half." He explained behind clenched teeth.

 "Looking at her was the only thing that kept me from looking at you. The only person I'll ever eye-fuck Because nobody compares to you. No matter how many girls I've tried to test that theory on…" He was now only a foot or so in front of you. 

"I told you you ever needed anything, you just ask. But you made a scene…" His hand was suddenly in the back of your hair. 

"So now you're going to make sure they hear what happens when you rival me." You were taken against the desk, palms forced at the surface. 

"Don't hurt my reputation, baby…scream for me like you always do and I might just let you come…" His hands were feverish and gluttonous to a competitive degree. Harsh but through as he reached within your house and directly beneath your bra. It took only one repressed moan and shuddering breath before he smirked at your cheek. He knew you wanted him. And he was shameless to broadcast the same need to you. 

A single scoff felt at your back and he pulled the straps to your shirt downwards until exposing your bra to him. 

"Now you didn't come here in my favorite bra just to talk…" You hesitated, unaware you had subconsciously dressed in his favored piece of lingerie. When you didn't respond, he turned you to face him, a letter opener set as a threat to your jaw. The life suddenly behind his eyes was frightening as it was only born from your fear. And yet, you were aware he wouldn't bring true harm to you. Not anymore than what he'd already done, anyhow. Your thighs aching at the thought of that very thing. 

"Anyone else were to talk to me like that and they would…" He paused. "Let's just say he wouldn't find it as pleasurable as I could make it for you…"

"I didn't come here for-"

"If your panties match this bra then you came here for exactly this." But as his hand rode into your pants, a violent unbuttoning of the closure and you gasped to the feeling of his fingertips against your naked clit. Not an ounce of fabric separating you. 

"No panties?" He scoffed. "Making it a bit too easy for me, baby…" He lowered the edge of the blade to your chest, teasing your nipple with its cold tip. First the left. Then the right. Circling it until lowering still. In the meantime, your breathing was sporadic to the crusade as your body shifted in accordance to the cold edge making contact. 

"Maybe it wasn't for you." You shot, some random surge of courage allowing you to rival him. 

"Don't ever say that shit to me again. YOU are for me. You can try to fuck anyone else and I promise you'll always be left wanting me. You know why, baby?" He suddenly took hold of the middle section of your bra to pull you closer to him. A gasp leaving your lips as he set the edge of the potential weapon to the fabric. 

"Because you love this." He sliced the fabric, exposing your breasts that he was quick to apprehend. But the blade continued lower until it teased the line of your parted jeans. 

"I-"

"Guess I need to prove it." Lowering to his knees, he pulled your pants to your knees before drawing the blade at an angle so it didn't cut you. 

"One wrong move and you'll bleed for me…You know I don't mind ." His eyes flickered with mischief as you breathed sharply. The contact of the blade at your sex made you shift. 

"You ever let anyone know how sweet this is…" He explained while pulling the blade to his tongue, a single lick of your excess removed, and rolling his eyes to your familiar taste. 

"I'll fuck you with this very blade so you can only be with me." You tensed at the thought. It was a threat. Not some attempt to entice you with dirty words. And he meant it. Every ounce of predatory dominance was always exercised with that promise. But this was sharper. Deeper. A vow of sorts, spoke on his altar of domineering existence. 

"Every time I want to be sweet to you…you open that pretty little mouth and make me want to come in it instead…Making you cry and plead…But today, you made a fatal error, baby. And now you're gonna make it up to me." He rose back over you. 

"You know you belong on your knees here in my office."

"I'm not fucking you, Rafe." He smirked and nodded. 

"You're right. I'm fucking you-" Distracted by his words you were taken aback by the sudden lift of your leg over the desk and his cock penetrating you with a cruel eagerness. And yet, you cried out for him as you always had. Only to return to that familiar hesitance. 

"I don't want you on your knees looking up at me, because I always forgive you too quickly. I want you to earn it. For embarrassing me. So it's only fair I do the same to you." He was harsh with his focused touch, exercising your erogenous zones with fervor as you refrained from rewarding him with any sound. Instead, you held your breath to suppress those moans so desperate to be released. 

"You can try to fight it all you want, baby. But your body is telling me just how much you missed me. How sorry you are-'"

"I'm not-" He silenced you by turning you into his mouth. His left hand came around your cheek, pressing you deeper into him as his tongue wrapped around yours. 

"The more you fight it, the harder you're gonna come. You're edging yourself baby…doing my work for me…" He spoke against your lips as he continued to pump you against the desk. The gift of his successes shook before you until a specific statue came to the floor to break. He smirked, falling into the illusion of your submission as he loosened his grip on your hand. 

It was just the window needed as you pushed him away from you and took the letter opener in hand. 

"I'm not some toy to you anymore! You don't get to decide anything."

"You gonna stab me? Yeah?" He tried for you but you only cocked your jaw. 

"Knees, Rafe. " You surprised him. "Make me come on your desk like you used to…" You smirked as you played with the tip of the blade. 

"All over those contracts you used to get so made you'd have to print again…only to fuck me over the copier…counting each page out as punishment…"

"You think-"

"Your name might be on that door. The lease to my apartment. Even following our son's name. But you don't own me, Rafe. You don't decide where I go or who I see. When I come or with you. I want this for me. So knees. Or I'll leave right now and you won't-" He rushed against you, a kiss to your lips as he gathered your face between your palms. The letter opener, thrown across the floor, where it became lost to some bookshelf as you watched him pull away just slightly. 

"There's that fire…"

"Shut up and make me come." He smirked before taking his hand to your neck. In the attempt made to keep dominance, you could only wrap your hand around his wrist as he pulled you to him. 

"You're right…" His middle finger came to your sex. "I might now own you. God knows you have your own opinions. But I own your body. Your moans. Your orgasm. Even the denial you have after you regret giving in to me…again…"

"You-"

A second finger set at a curve made you gasp in relief. 

"I own sex. With you. And I'll always make you mine. Make you come. Every time. And you show your ass like that again…I'll let them see it as I make it the darkest shade of red I can until you can't even sit." He scoffed. 

"How will you explain that to our son? Hmm? His mom's a whore who can't learn to keep her mouth shut but keeps her legs open for daddy? Mmm…I like the way that sounds…" 

He gripped your throat harder. "Call me it. I'll let you come. Just like you want. But call me it."

"Bastard." You shot as he kissed you sharply. 

"That's fine. I'll just take you how I want…" He pinned your back flat against the desk before thrust you down onto him. The fulfillment of his cock sending your eyes to an immediate roll as your back arched from his depth. 

"Not so dominant now with my cock deep enough to remind you how much you need it, yeah? Then fucking take it, baby…" Your fingers wrapped around the edge of the desk as he bowed into you. One harsh grasp to the back of your neck brought you into him as another held himself up from crushing you. It would only take until the third thrust before your reservation turned into the need for more as you wrapped yourself around him. Feet tied over his waist and your fingers pulling at his hair, he moaned into your kiss with approval. 

"Rafe-" 

"I know you're about to. Think I need to be warned after how many times?"

"No…I…I want more…" He smirked, kissing you once more before pressing your calf into his chest and holding you tightly. 

"That enough for you, yeah? Feel me that deep inside of you?" He hit his hand on the surface of the desk beside you. 

"Answer me!"

"Oh my God…" You only kissed him, softening his anger, but not his passion. "You feel so good…fuck me, Rafe���" His eyes rolled to your command. 

"Daddy…" you teased directly into his ear before nibbling on the lobe beneath as he unleashed himself into you. The desk at a threat to break as it even cried out beneath you. But as you moaned shamelessly beneath him his hand came around your mouth. A slip allowed by losing himself in the greed of your lower lips. 

"I thought you wanted them to hear me…"

"Nobody gets to hear you come but me." He lifted you off of the desk and onto the couch across the way until you straddled him. Without the need for guidance, you began a lace of bouncing and clenching as his fingers ate sharply into your hips. 

"Yes!" He belted behind clenched teeth. "My girl never forgot how to ride me…" You diverted the grip over his shoulders into that of the fabric behind him as he corrected you back to his skin. 

"It will hurt you."

"I want you to." He confessed, allowing you a chance to read beyond the lines of your toxic relationship, where sex governed and compassion was sparse. But in this moment, he became gentle. If he could even be such a thing, this was the closest you'd ever seen him. 

"I don't want to hurt you."

"I do. I want you to. Because I want to hurt you…" He explained with tears in his eyes as you kissed him sweetly, surprising him. 

"Then hurt me." He clenched his jaw, turning you onto your knees before pulling you back to face him. A smack to your ass and a vice if s grip made you wince as he repeated it twice over. 

"Just say it once. You don't have to mean it…just say you're mine…"

"I'm yours, Rafe…So fuck me like it…" He pounded into you, your body pinned between him and the arm of the chair as only his hand through your hair pulled him back. 

"Yes!" You chorused. 

"Oh shit…" He moaned for you, the desperate groan making your eyes roll in approval. 

"I wanna fuck it so deep inside of you that you get pregnant again-" Your eyes shot open. 

"Rafe-"

"Just one more time…You let me use every part of you to come…you were more horny than I was…" You hesitated. 

"Yep…one more time…"

"Rafe, no-"

"Yes baby…you're gonna be so fucking good again…so beautiful, so full…tits so fuckable…"

"Raaaaafe!" You whimpered. "Please!"

"If you don't want it, are you you clenching so hard? Hmm? Why are you so close to coming for me?"

"Because you're so deep…"

"Deep enough for you to give me another baby…come on…take it baby…" he pulled you back against him. One arm wrapped as a sash as he used the other at your clit. 

"You can come…I know I am…"

"Oh fuck!"

"Good fucking girl…oh yeah…oh you want it…say it…say you want my cum…say it!"

"Ah! I want it! Cum inside me, Rafe!"

"Yeah? Why?"

He smiled as you faced him. "Oh…tell me before I come…I'm close…you're too fucking tight…"

"That's fine…you're still gonna take every drop…" he thrust violently into you, as you belted and stiffened for him. 

"There…Now I'll forgive you for acting like such a little bitch…" he moved to kiss you but you moved away. 

"Don't be that way. You could have said no."

"I did…"

"Your body wanted it…I bet it still does…"

"Rafe…" He moved to his desk, pressing the intercom to his assistant. Pulling up the sleeves of his dress shirt you left loose and stretched, he kept his eyes to you. 

"Cancel the rest of today."

"Mister Cameron-"

"Thank you." He moved back to you. 

"Looks like you're mine for the rest of the day…" 

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @drewspisces @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916 @belcalis9503

MASTERLIST

RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

2ND RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

BABY DADDY MASTERLIST

MARCH MADNESS MASTERLIST

#rafecameron x reader #rafecameronfanfiction #rafecameron #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #outerbanks rafe #outerbanks smut #outer banks fanfiction #outerbanks #outer banks #outer banks smut #obx smut #obxfanfiction #obx #obxsmut #obx fanfiction #drew starkey

[tomscumdump]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE A PART 2 ON THE TEACHER TOM SMUT 😩

A/n: of course!! I’m sorry this took me ages guys I haven’t had any motivation these past couple of days to write this :( it’s a little bit rushed and probably very choppy I’m sorry but I hope you guys enjoy mwah <3 he looks so good in that picture I would be making out with him right then and there tbh.

𝒩ℴ𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉ℴ 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝓃ℴ𝓌？𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉 2 💋

warnings: dom!tom sub!freader degrading unprotected sex p in v Tom using handcuffs

MDNI!!

smut and fluff at the end!!

Read at your own risk.

A while later you and Tom grew very close always meeting up outside of school, he even started helping you out with some school work at his place. He started buying you cute gifts obviously your interactions stayed low during school, but if you ever showed up late he would absolutely teach you some manners. (screaming) but something was weird the more you and Tom got close you were falling for him it was wrong you couldn’t fall for your teacher could you?

During school you once again arrived late to class you were tired, “Look who finally decided to show up” you knew that voice anywhere, Tom was staring right at you grazing his tongue over his piercing that made you go crazy but you just walked over to your desk not even giving a smart ass remark back to him.

For the rest of the class you didn’t even pay attention not even looking at Tom his gaze was directly on you though. He knew something was up but didn’t know what exactly. Class was finally over you got your things, you were about to go till Tom grabbed your wrist he was about to speak but you pushed him away and left the room.

-time skip

It was the end of the day, you were leaving school you didn’t know what to think, till a car stopped beside you and to your surprise it was Tom he got out the car and opened the passenger side for you “Get in” his voice was firm and he didn’t look to happy. “No” you tried walking away but he pulled you towards him “Just get the fuck in” you didn’t wanna piss him off even more than you already have so you got in unwillingly.

The car ride was quiet the silence wasn’t nice either you could cut the tension with a knife, his jaw was clenched his eyes directly on the road. After what seemed forever you were arrived at his house. Tom got you out of the car dragging you inside “Fuck Tom can you let go of me” you tried letting he ignored you, pulling you with so much force you were about to fall over.

He dragged you all the way up to his room slamming the door shut behind you pushing you on the bed you were so confused on what was going on. Tom towered over you straddling your hips and pinning both of your arms above your head.

He leaned down his face inches away from yours “So you wanna explain why the fuck you’ve been avoiding me and being such a brat liebe” his voice was rough there wasn’t much light only the window but you could make out every single inch of him. You didn’t know what to say but you decided to keep quiet Tom snickered before pressing his lips to yours.

His lips matched perfectly with yours the way his metal piercing felt against your lips was amazing, you moaned into the kiss letting his tongue enter your mouth (didn’t know how to word it 😭) his hand made it’s way to your neck squeezing gently, you could feel his hard on pressing down onto your lower stomach making you gasp Tom eventually pulled away his salvia coating your red lips.

You tried moving and getting out of his grip but it was difficult “Fucking stay still” Tom grabbed something out of his desk draw he grabbed your wrists handcuffing them together. (oh my god.) He trailed wet kisses along your neck nipping and sucking at different spots across your neck, soft moans escaped your mouth. He moved his hands lower down towards your aching core and pressing his index finger against your clothed clit.

You moaned in response a smirk appeared on Tom’s face, Slowly he peeled off yours and his clothes I swear you got just go weak at the sight of him everything about this guy was perfect no wonder why you fell him. Your eyes moved downwards to his cock his tip leaking with pre-cum your breath caught in your throat he was big to take in. “Tom I-“ you were interrupted “Hush I’ll make it fit liebe” his voice was gentle but teasing.

Tom positioned himself between your legs, “Such a pretty fuckin’ sight Schatz” his gaze was directly on your wet cunt he could go pussy drunk (no cause he so would.) He carefully moved his tip against your entrance before you could even get time to adjust to his length he rammed his cock deep inside you filling you up completely, “Tom fuck!” you moaned out arching your back.

He pulled out half away before thrusting back into you with such force, Tom groaned “Fuck you feel s’good around me Schatz takin’ me so well like the pretty slut you are hm?” His voice was dripping with lust, you couldn’t give a proper answer only moans and whines escaping your mouth. Your legs wrapped around his body, His hand moved to your neck squeezing gently.

His pace quickened moving in different types of angles hitting your g spot directly again and again. Your moans grew louder and louder it was like music to Tom’s ears, the room smelt like sex sweat, your head was crashing against the headboard everytime he thrusted into you, your walls clenched around him you knew you were close, “T-Tom I’m gonna cum soon” you whine out.

“You think you deserve to cum hm after you’ve been such a brat?” he asked me “yes fuck please Tom” you moan out the knot in your stomach grew tighter with each thrust, he looked down at you his gaze almost memorising he leaned down and whispered “Then Cum for me Liebe” he pulled out completely before ramming into you hitting your g spot once again that’s all you needed, You threw your head back your legs shaking and cummed all over his cock “Jesus Fuck liebe!” He moans out his pace slows down a bit riding out his high.

You let out a shaky breath trying to gain back your senses, Tom grabs a towel cleaning you both up and he removes the handcuffs off your wrists. Placing a kiss on your forehead laying down next to you his arm draped around your waist “alright now can you tell me why you’ve been avoiding me Schatz” he asks slightly concerned. You turn to look at him your eyes a little bit glossy “I think I might have feelings for you and I know it might be wrong but-“ Tom pressed a kiss to your lips.

After a few seconds he pulled back he tilted your chin up rubbing your cheek “I couldn’t care if I was your teacher or not Miene Liebe I feel the exact same way about you.” You hugged him tightly feeling a sense of comfort that you didn’t have to worry anymore about how he felt you felt so safe in Tom’s embrace you layed in his arms falling asleep peacefully.

A/n:I HAD NO IDEA I COULD WRITE SO MUCH. I hope you guys enjoyed send me more requests guys mwahhhh bye cuties. <33

Taglist:

@bunniesthoughts

@memzyyy

@madzandmore

@itsmealaiah

@jadedchar

#tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #tokio hotel x reader #tom kaulitz angst #tom kaulitz fluff #tom kaulitz smut #2010s

[the-hopeless-haze]

Let’s Spend the Night Together

Chapter 3 of If You Want It, You Can Bleed on Me

Greg House x Reader

Word count: 6.5k ??? what did I do

NSFW - smut

“Where does she live?” Greg asks James.

“If I tell you, am I assisting you in a crime?” James asks in response, barely looking up from his desk.

“I’m sure she told you about our date later.”

James huffs in frustration, finally looking up at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“Did you like her? Is that it?” Greg questions, trying to get to the bottom of his friend’s snarky behavior. Not that this wasn’t the usual from him. It was one of the things Greg loved about him, that he was always a little fed up with him, always preemptively aggravated, always in a state of annoyance. It was harder to piss someone off that was always a little pissed with him at baseline.

“Is that what you think? Because if that’s the reason you’re taking her out… you’re more fucked than I thought.”

“The correct answer would have been, ‘no, Greg, I do not want to sleep with her because I am married’ but we’ll go with that.”

James sighs, looking up at him. “Yes. She’s very attractive. But no, I had no intention of entertaining her.”

“Then what’s your issue?”

“Because I don’t know why you’re doing this. You sick of your prostitutes?”

Greg scoffs. “This isn’t about sex.”

“It’s not? I’m mistaken then, because you were flirting with her, made comments about her body, called her to your office…”

“Okay,” he corrects. “It’s not just about sex.”

“Are you trying to tell me you want to date her without saying the words? Because if so… congratulations.”

“No. I want to figure her out.”

“Just look in her chart. Save both of you the trouble.”

“It’s no fun if I learn all the answers at once.”

“Do you ever wonder why you’re single?” James asks.

“Do you ever wonder why you’re unhappily married?” Greg counters. “And. About that. Either her psychiatry training gave her some leg-up here or you tipped her off. She went through her files already. All that she left was a med list.”

“You already looked?” James asks, incredulous.

“Yeah. No birth control. Wonder what that’s about? Propranolol. Maybe some blood pressure issue… she’s young for that and that’s not first line. Idiopathic tachycardia? Maybe. Anxiety?”

“She can’t have an interesting med list. Stop looking for zebras. She’s barely thirty.”

“No birth control and barely thirty? Either she’s not getting any or she’s tied her tubes already.”

“Or… if she does have a blood pressure issue she can’t be on it. Or she has an IUD. Actually… don’t drag me into this.”

“Lamotrigine. Seizures. Bipolar disorder. What’s more likely?”

“lamotrigine isn’t the first-line med for either. Maybe you’ll have to talk to her.”

Greg rolls his eyes. “No fun. Hey… she’s on Vicodin.”

“A match made in hell,” Wilson grumbles, running his hands over his face.

“Well. She was. Eight years ago.”

“Most people don’t stay on it indefinitely.”

“Why would she leave that on there? It’s just these three meds.”

“Don’t you have an actual patient?”

He shrugs. “I need her address. I’m picking her up in three hours.”

“At least buy her dinner. Do not just bring her to your apartment.”

“I can’t learn anything if I just have sex with her. I mean, I’ll definitely learn some things, but…”

“Well, I don’t have her address.”

“You’ve got to have her address. You hired her.”

“Nope. I’m not her direct supervisor since she’s a consult. You’d have to talk to the head of psychiatry or Cuddy. And no. I’m not losing my job searching for it.”

“She took it out of her medical records,” he says, shaking his head, but he’s smiling. “I guess she likes to play.”

——————

“So let me get this straight. You want me to risk the safety of one of my employees so you can drive by her apartment?”

Greg looks at Cuddy for a moment, as if he’s  actually thinking about her summary of his request and he nods. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

Sighing, she says, “I shouldn’t be shocked you live the rest of your life like you practice medicine, but I don’t care about the results here. The answer is no, House.”

“It’ll be worth your while.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Because… if I get laid I’m in a better mood which means I’m less likely to cause you issues.”

“Right. Hm. Surprising, but that didn’t persuade me.”

“Have you met her?”

“Is that supposed to convince me?” she asks, looking up at him for a second.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. She does work in psychiatry. For someone who constantly loves to tell me I have a drug problem and there’s something wrong with me I’d think you’d want to make sure this relationship runs smoothly.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “I feel like you and I both know you’re not doing this for the emotional healing.”

“I won’t be doing anything if no one gives me her address,” he grumbles. He doesn’t tell her but for once he can’t believe how stupid he was that he fell for that, that he thought you might be interested.

“Hm. Well. I’m busy, House.”

He walks out without a word, heading back to his office. It’s 7:00.

Well. Alone again. Not much different than the last night or the night before that.

And he knows he could have Cameron. She’s been not so subtle in trying to get his attention, and yes, he certainly didn’t help matters by telling her she’s beautiful. Sure. But she isn’t… she’s not what he wants. He doesn’t need someone to take him on like a charity case.

You… you were fucking with him. And it’s fair, maybe he even deserves it. Maybe you got off on this, being a Walmart version of a femme-fatale, wounding men’s egos, seeing which ones would chase you and which ones would give up after a little pain.

Doesn’t really ease the sting of the ache of rejection, though. That you’d brush him off that easy, leave him without an avenue to reach you.

Sighing, he turns on the TV, trying and failing to focus on the screen, but you’d taken over his mind like a case he was on the brink of solving and just couldn’t get there.

8:15. He gets a page from your number. “YOURE LATE”. It reads.

Well. Screw that. He still had a way to reach you after all.

Possibly.

Smiling to himself, he calls down to the psych ward, asking for you. You’re not there, they say, but they’ll be happy to transfer him to your extension if you’re still in the building.

“I thought hookers took pride in their punctuality,” you say when you answer the phone.

“You’re kind of a bitch, huh?” He asks, trying not to let his chuckle be so audible in the receiver.

“You keep Wilson around. You love bitches.”

“Funny. Would’ve thought you’d been swooning, begging him to leave his wife by now.”

“I’m not so easily charmed.”

“Those big brown eyes don’t do it for you?”

“Sounds like they do it for you. Something you want to tell me, Gregory?”

“Don’t ever call me that,” he sighs.

“Not going to deny the gay allegations but you’ll draw the line at me calling you by your first name? What gives, House?”

“You can call me Greg.”

“Wow, could I? What an honor that we’re on first name basis.”

“Not many get the privilege.”

“Still haven’t denied the gay allegation.”

“Don’t really see the point. You’ll believe what you believe regardless.”

“Wow. Truly. A disaster of a man in all other regards but you’re comfortable in your sexuality? Greg is 1 for 0.”

“I have one male best friend and I’ve been single for five years. I embrace the gay jokes at this point.”

“Five years?”

“Yeah. It’s been a while for you too, huh?”

“What makes you so sure?”

“No reason,” he lies.

“Right.”

“You’re single now.”

“Moved here less than a year ago. Haven’t really had the chance to meet people.”

“Okay. What hellhole did you crawl out of to willingly move to Jersey?”

“Maybe I just like Frank Sinatra.”

“He’s dead. You didn’t come here for something. You left something and you came here to make sure whatever it was didn’t follow you.”

“Is this really the date you had in mind?” you ask.

“Nice deflection.”

“I just moved. No story there.”

“Also. Almost a year? And no one’s asked you out?”

“I can say no, you know.”

“You didn’t say no to me.”

“Maybe I should’ve.”

“Cold. Come down here. I’ll walk you out to my car.”

————-

“Ah. The bitch arrives,” he says, looking you up and down again, not hiding his checking you out. You’d changed, red blouse with a leather jacket and most likely the same black slacks you were wearing earlier. “Not quite slutty enough.”

“Could say the same for you. Where’s the assless chaps?”

“I could never pull that off,” he says. “You could, though.”

He’d changed, too, a button down with slacks for once instead of jeans... at Wilson’s nagging of course.

“Here,” he says, handing you a bouquet of flowers he thought for a second were going to wilt away at his desk.

“Flowers? don’t tell me you went all out. Maybe you’re not as much of a disaster as I thought.”

“I shouldn’t give them to you since you stood me, a cripple, up.”

“Stood you up? You didn’t come get me.”

“You never told me where to get you. Ergo… you stood me up.”

“You were supposed to figure it out.”

“Yeah. Right. Wilson didn’t know and Cuddy wouldn’t put out. And you knew I wouldn’t figure it out. That’s why you stayed here.”

“You actually asked Cuddy?”

“What? I’ve asked her for much worse.”

You shake your head, smiling. “Falling head over heels for me already, Greg?”

“Puzzles are no fun if you can’t figure out the answer.” He doesn’t say that the unsolved cases haunt him, nag him and he sees them where they’re not.

One day he knows you’ll haunt him, too. One day, when you leave, when he pushes this until it breaks.

“Mm. Try harder then,” you say.

“You gave me an unsolvable puzzle.”

“Mm. Not really. You gave it to yourself. You said you were picking me up at my place. I stayed here and gave you the easy way out.”

“You could’ve left it—“ he cuts himself off, lest he incriminate himself.

“Left it where, Greg?” you ask, bemused.

“Nowhere.”

“Right,” you laugh. “So what opiate do you pop constantly?”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“Funny.”

“Why would that be funny, Greg?”

“Let me sleep with you first.”

“Absolutely not,” you say, grinning at him.

“Well, I shouldn’t have thought you’d be easy if you’ve put me through hell just to take you out,” he sighs.

“Don’t think I’ll leave you completely wanting, though,” you say, reaching out to touch his face, his stubble scratching your hand pleasantly, a shiver running down your spine. You run your thumb over his bottom lip gently.

Tentatively, he reaches out for you, too, copying your movements, hand on your cheek, thumb over your lips, but then your tongue darts out to run over the pad of his thumb and he thinks he might die right there. “Dirty girl,” he chuckles, smirking.

“Mm. You’re pretty, Greg,” you say, with enough sincerity he almost believes you’re not bullshitting him.

“Pretty? That’s a first.”

“Like no one’s ever told you.”

“Maybe ten years ago.”

“Mm. It’s those eyes,” you say, stepping a little closer to him, letting your breath mingle with his, snaking your hand around the back of his neck. Your lips almost touch, once, twice, wordlessly. “You gonna kiss me or not, Greg?”

You expect him to be rougher but he’s soft, testing the waters, lips still barely touching yours until he gives in, gives you what you want, kisses you like he means it. God, it’s been too long, and you missed it, the thrill of kissing somebody new, and you can feel his anticipation, electricity from your skin to his.

“Come on,” he says, breaking away from you after a few minutes. “I said I’d take you to dinner.”

———

“So what is it? Percs?” you ask once you’ve been seated and get waters. It’s a nice place he chose, somewhere a little out of the way, mostly serving Italian fare and seafood. It’s where men who haven’t been on a date in a while would choose to bring a woman, you figure.

“Percs? You do some time on the street?” he asks.

“So what if I did?” you counter.

He shakes his head. “Not your story. I’m not buying that.”

“Fine. Used to work at an addiction treatment facility when I was a nurse. Everyone calls them percs, though. Not exactly some down low street name.”

“It’s Vicodin.”

“Nasty drug,” you say.

“Really? I think they’re yummy.”

“You would.”

“What’s your personal aversion to them? They take you on a bad date?”

“Got them prescribed after a motorcycle accident. Didn’t agree with me.”

“Hm. You driving?”

“No.”

“What’d you break?”

“My leg.”

“Which one?”

“Right femur.”

Wilson was going to have a field day. Match made in hell, alright. Wilson’s personal hell, that is.

“Femurs are hard to break.”

“When your partner is drunk and doesn’t care about anything it’s not that hard,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “Lucky I didn’t die. I mean, not that I cared so much then.”

“Partner? What were you, 19?”

“22,” you say, silently cursing yourself for not just saying boyfriend.

“Did they not make it?”

You look at him questioningly but don’t say anything about his use of the gender neutral. You don’t want to have that conversation tonight. “No. Life support for a couple weeks until they pulled it.”

“Hm. So that wasn’t the reason you left.”

“No. There was no reason. I just needed a change of scenery.”

“Right,” he says. “Jersey isn’t usually the place people pick for a change of scenery.”

“How’d you end up here, then?”

“There was a job opening,” he answers.

“You were running away from something, too.”

“No, I was running to something. I needed a place to hire me and Cuddy was the only one insane enough to take me on at that point.”

“You’ve always been discourteous and unprofessional?”

“Those are my middle names,” he snarks.

There’s a natural break in the conversation as the waiter comes back to take orders. Greg takes notice of what you order, a baked scrod, certainly not the least expensive thing you could have ordered but not the most, either. It’s an assessment of how you value yourself, he thinks. Average. Average is boring.

Or you could just like scrod, he supposes.

“Why are you single?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Life was busy. Didn’t have time for relationships,” you say, shrugging. “Why are you?”

“Myriad of reasons.”

“Give me one.”

“My leg,” he responds indignantly.

“What happened to it?” you ask.”

“That’s a second date conversation.”

"You're in pain."

"How'd you know?" He asks sarcastically.

"Was it the cane? The Vicodin?"

'I think it was your charming personality.

Anyway. If you're going to cite your leg as a reason you're single, I'd love to know why."

"I was with someone when it happened. It's a long story."

"We've got nothing but time,” you say.

"You really won't sleep with me if I don't tell you?" House asks.

"Nope. Keep pushing me and I never will.

Tell me."

House sighs dramatically. "I had an infarction in my thigh muscle. No one knew what it was, I diagnosed it, but... so much of the muscle was dead already. I didn't want an amputation, I wanted a bypass. I didn't care about the pain. I just wanted to be able to use my leg. I asked them to put me under sedation to cope with the pain at the time... and the woman I was with decided it would be a good idea to remove the dead muscle completely."

"You made her your medical proxy?”

"Mm. Stupid decision on my part,” he says.

"Any medical background?"

"Nope."

"Then yes. Stupid decision,” you agree.

"I'm sure you've made plenty of stupid decisions. Getting on that motorcycle, for one,” he says, adding a jab at the end so to help heal his wounded ego a little.

"We all make mistakes. It's human. So... what's the reason now? You resent people who can walk without pain so you don't get close to anybody? It interferes with sex? You feel like no woman would want to deal with it long term?"

House sighs and rolls his eyes. "Do you really think it interferes with sex? Is that what you're worried about?"

"No. I'm asking if that's what you-"

"No. You see me as a potential sexual partner, correct?"

"I never said that."

"We're going with it. You ask me as if you're posing the question to me... but you're projecting."

"And you're deflecting. I asked you three questions and you didn't answer one" you point out.

"No. It doesn't interfere with sex, at least not to the point where you have to worry if I

can get you off or not. Whenever you decide to spread your legs for me... you'll see."

You feel your cheeks redden a little and cough. "I asked you two other questions."

"They weren't what you were getting at."

"Entertain me."

"No. It's not that I resent people. Am I jealous? Sometimes. I'd love to know what it's like to wake up in the morning without pain. But I'm not going to wake up every morning wanting to kill my partner because she jogs every morning and I can't."

"Is it because you've been able to accept it?

Was it an issue with your girlfriend at the time, coming to terms with it?"

"What do you think?"

"Yes."

Greg shrugs. “Not hard to put that together. I bet I could get a psychiatric nursing degree too.”

"Third question? You feel like no woman would want to deal with it?"

"Mm. Or she'd want to deal with it for the wrong reasons, take me on like I'm a charity case. That's unattractive for an abundance of reasons. You could go that way, I think, or you used to."

"You think I'm taking you on as a charity case? You pursued me.”

"You agreed. You didn't think for a second,

'well, he's a cripple, I'd better at least give him a shot'?"

"Your leg is not the reason I am here," you say firmly.

"What is it then, my deep blue eyes? This big, thick cane? My ray of sunshine personality?"

You chuckle. "It's your drive. You barely knew me, decided I was interesting and pursued me without abandon. That is attractive."

"You're not curious as to why you?"

"Little tits and ass, as Keith Richards would say?" You ask. "I'm used to being objectified. Pretty privilege is a thing. I'm sure you have noticed that yourself. If there's something deeper, enlighten me."

"Well, you are attractive, there's no doubting that. But I intend to find out why you're in the medical field, and psychiatry at that. It's like Cameron, on my team. You're gorgeous enough to have become an actress, marry a millionaire. Something happened to you to make you choose this."

"Did you take Cameron out until you figured what her deal was?"

"No. Cameron pities me. I have no interest in her that way."

"Well. Why do you assume brilliant minds reside only in unattractive faces? Why do you assume I worked my ass off to get here because of some past trauma when this could have just been a goal of mine like it could've been if I wasn't as hot as you think l am?”

"Okay. Then why did you choose psychiatry?"

"That's a second date conversation." You quip.

He smiles wryly at you. "You coaxed my issue out of me. Come on."

“I hold fast to my principles. You're weak,” you say, grinning back. “Why are you a doctor, then, hm?”

“I’m not a beautiful woman.”

“Right…” you say. “Chase is pretty. Foreman is too, you know. Either of them could’ve done something easier.”

“Chase is trying desperately to fill his father’s shoes. His father was a doctor, and well, you know how that story goes. And Foreman is an overcoming adversity case. He could’ve been a hood rat. He was on that path.”

“You know… women just started to be able to open credit cards in 1971. Maybe I don’t want to have to rely on a man to make a living.”

“No. Believe me, I get that. My point was there’s easier ways to make money. You chose the hard way,” he says. “And unpopular way. People become doctors and they fantasize about cutting people open and diagnosing infections, not getting hit and restraining children.”

“Your hypothesis is stupid. Maybe I don’t want to be an actor or model… or an infectious disease specialist,” you say. “And I think we’re all damaged. All of us. No one gets out unscathed.”

“No one just chooses psychiatry because it’s such a good time.”

“They do when it can make them ridiculous money without as many hardships as medical school. I could be using my degree to write suboxone scripts and make more than I’m making right now. I know a lot of people who went back for that.”

“Proving my point. Why are you doing things the hard way?”

“You take on the most difficult cases across the country, cases no one else can solve. You’re doing things the hard way, too. Why? Because the easy way is boring.”

Greg smiles at that. “Fair enough.”

“Yeah. Fair enough.”

—————

You don’t quite know how you got here. Or well, you do. Greg asked you to come back to his place for drinks, and you agreed, and you should’ve known better but it’s been years and you can’t really care too much when his warm body is underneath you, his tongue down your throat, his hands everywhere he can reach.

“How bad are you hurting?” you ask him, breathlessly.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry,” he whispers back, reaching a hand back to touch your chin. “What do you want to come of tonight?”

“Let’s just see where this leads us,” you say, leaning back to kiss him again.

But he stops you, gentle pressure on your jaw to prevent you from closing the space between your lips. “I need to know what you want.”

You sigh, pressing your elbow in his chest as leverage to lift yourself off him, and you sit next to his feet on the other side of the couch. “Why are you asking?”

“Because I don’t want this to head somewhere we can’t get back from. Move over,” he says, and winces, moving his legs back over to sit beside you again.

“It wasn’t sexual trauma,” you huff, aggravated. “You can say I’m damaged all you want but that doesn’t mean you have to treat me like glass.”

“I tried to take your shirt off and you pushed me away but you kept kissing me. What do you want?”

“What do you want?” You ask, glaring at him.

Truth was, you were using him, maybe just like he was using you. You hadn’t had the opportunity to make quite as bad of a decision as sleeping with the man in front of you in a long time. And as bad decisions go, he wasn’t so terrible anyway. You like him so far, you think he’s attractive. But you know Wilson is right, that he might drag you down to places you haven’t been in a long time.

Still.

It’s been a while since you’ve felt something. You want the hating yourself in the morning for giving yourself away so soon, you want the walk of shame as he drives you back to the hospital where you left your car, you want to revel in the fact that Greg will be telling people how you were in bed, bragging that he got you in between his sheets. You want the dopamine hit and the subsequent crash.

You spent so long getting healthy but you had to keep everyone at arm’s length to do it. It was probably the worst idea to try to get close to someone else who also isolated people and couldn’t even be healthy then.

Why didn’t he just want it to be easy? Just fuck you and be done with it, continue if it’s convenient and worth the effort. Easy is boring, sure, but sex isn’t boring even if it’s easy (if so, he wouldn’t be seeing hookers, would he?). And you know he wants to fuck you, but why he wants to make it difficult… it’s beyond your reach at this moment.

“I want… I don’t know,” he admits, because he doesn’t.

Prostitutes were one thing. Vulnerability there didn’t really matter. They were doing a job and they didn’t even take a second glance at his leg. As long as they were getting paid. If he wanted attention drawn to it, they’d kiss it red with their lipstick but because he tells them to leave it alone… they do.

Sleeping with somebody new… it’s so much harder. It’s so much easier with someone you know. Or someone you don’t have an obligation to know.

With an aim to please rather than take, he doesn’t know how he’d perform.

Looking at his face, reading the ambivalence there, it suddenly clicks. If Wilson knew the truth, if you really are the first woman since his injury, there’s a lot of insecurity in being seen.

And you know all about being seen.

It’s easy to come off with bravado and arrogance but when you’re actually in the situation, when you’re called to be vulnerable… it’s something else entirely.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” you ask quietly.

“Yes. God yes,” he affirms, nodding his head. “Don’t take tonight as an indication.”

“It’s okay. I understand,” you say, nodding.

“That doesn’t mean… that doesn’t mean I can’t help you get off.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “That’s still sex.”

Scoffing, he rolls his eyes. “If you’re in high school.”

“What do you think lesbians do?”

He raises his eyebrows, chucking a little. “Are you a lesbian?”

“You wish,” you laugh. “Say you could be the one that changed me.”

“I would. Except people don’t change.”

“Yeah. They do. They change all the time,” you counter, shrugging your shoulders. “Every day, every hour, every moment… it changes you. They’re minuscule changes, changes you don’t see immediately, but you look back a decade and then it clicks.”

“Right. Maybe. But fundamentally people don’t change. The parts change, but the whole never does.”

You want to say that he has been changed, that his leg injury changed him, that he holds so steadfast to that belief that people never change so he can convince himself he was always this miserable. Sure, you get the feeling he was fucked before, but this did change him. Made him worse. Made him push people away.

You don’t say that, though. You know deep down he knows it and doesn’t want to face it.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” he asks, insecurity creeping in, and he doesn’t know why this is so difficult or why he cares at all. He could pay for what he wanted, live his hedonistic lifestyle and not have to worry if the woman in front of him wanted to fuck him or not.

You aren’t boring.

But that’s not true, anyway, that’s not why he keeps people at arms length. Routine medical cases are boring, but people aren’t. It’s why he went through all the files he could of the applicants for his team, trying to pick the combination that would interest him the most, play off each other in ways he could live vicariously through. They weren’t the most deserving, or the most academically gifted, they were the most interesting. It’s why he loves gossip, loves knowing about things that don’t concern him, always living life like it’s a spectator sport and he’s got front row seats.

It’s always the people that love to watch that hate to be seen.

“I could be convinced,” you say, in that bitchy tone he knows hes going to love to hate. You soften; though, turn to him, your hair falling a little in your face, kiss him gently on the mouth.

Greg responds in kind, deepening the kiss, his hands tangling in your hair, pulling lightly before traveling to your breasts, kneading your flesh through your shirt.

“Could you be convinced to have lesbian sex with me right now?” he asks.

You’d burst out laughing if you also weren’t so admittedly and ashamedly turned on right now. “Yeah. Sure. Think you’d have an easier time in bed though.”

“You treat me like all your girls?” he asks, a glint in his eye, and oh, there’s the being seen. You’re not a fan, either. You’re surprised he’s not being forthright about what he no doubt is putting together, but ultimately you’re thankful.

“A slut’s a slut,” you quip as he leans back in, his mouth barely touching yours and he chuckles against your skin.

“You really are a bitch.”

“Mm,” you agree, closing the distance between you again, pulling him to stand up with you, letting him lean on you as he puts weight on it again.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, without thinking, never one to apologize for his actions but never one to let his disability affect others, either.

“It’s okay, Greg,” you whisper. “I got you.”

“No, I’ll go get—“

You stop him, holding his jaw gently in your hand. “It’s okay.”

Empathy. Not sympathy.

You had been here, in a way. Femur fractures take a good six months to heal. You walked half a year in his shoes on the same medication he was on.

Now it all clicks, what James had done, keeping you two apart to bring you together, doing something by not doing anything, letting it all happen by chance. He had been patient enough to let time do most of the work, something Greg could never do, but something that ultimately worked in his favor.

It’s okay. We all need someone we can lean on. If you want it, you can lean on me.

You still lived a life without pain.

Greg hates it, hates it all, and if you had had just the slightest twinge of force, the slightest indication that you were saying it was okay just to say something he would’ve told you to get out. He hates the way it kills intimacy, makes him older, more decrepit, makes him dependent, in a way. There’s certain things he can never do, or that he’d need help to do, and it’s something a woman would leave him for.

It’s something a woman did leave him for.

He wants to hug you, but that would feel too much, too intimate, too soon, so he kisses you again instead, and then the two of you hobble on to his bedroom. It hurts. God, it hurts, aches like it always does, maybe more so—the last pill he took was at dinner, but you make it, helping him ease onto the bed and wasting no time, knowing he was insecure, wasting no time to prove you still wanted him, mouth on his, your legs straddling his good thigh, moving on to his neck, laving your tongue over his skin, biting gently, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt.

“Hey,” Greg says, stopping your hand’s ministrations.

“I’m only taking your shirt off,” you assure him. “I won’t go further than that.”

“Fine. Not much to see there, either,” he mutters.

“I like tits,” you blurt without thinking. Jesus Christ. You have to stop doing that.

“Yeah,” he says, chuckling. “Sure you do. Good thing mine are bigger than Cuddy’s.”

“They absolutely are not.”

“You familiar with their size?”

You stop yourself just in time before you say “I wish.”

He lets you finish, helping you take his shirt off, take his undershirt off, shivering as you kiss down the length of his torso to the top of his pants. “I’ll show you mine,” you say, unbuttoning your pants and slipping them off, throwing them on the floor haphazardly. You move over so he can see the scar down the side of your leg, deep gash where they cut you open, you were a month away from a nursing license and you were in the OR, someone’s patient before you could ever be on the side you studied for.

You were lucky, they kept saying. You didn’t feel lucky at all.

Tentatively, his hand comes to touch your skin and you nod, silent agreement that he could touch. He’s gentle even though he doesn’t need to be, touching carefully, tracing the line of the scar up and down, hard keloid under his skin.

“This isn’t what you don’t want me to see,” Greg says.

“Hm?”

“Your upper body. That’s why you didn’t want me to take your shirt off.”

Oh. Yeah. That.

“I don’t care,” you lie.

“Yes, you do,” he counters immediately, looking at you knowingly. “Why are you lying?”

You sigh, pulling him back to you, kissing him hard, hoping he’ll shut up if you don’t give him the chance to speak. “Just touch me already.”

It would be so much easier if he just fucked you, fucked you over, fucked you up all within the course of a month. You get the feeling right now, as your tongue is down his throat and you’re letting out moans against his lips you try to suppress as his fingers enter you, stretch you out, reach angles you couldn’t reach by yourself, you get the feeling this is going to be for the long haul. Not that he’s necessarily going to be down on one knee, but that he’s going to drag out hurting you like he’s dragging his fingers against your walls, drawing you closer and closer to the edge but never quite bringing you there.

“You okay?” you ask him, breathless, head hazy, you just want him, want him closer than this, want him deep in you.

“Shh,” Greg whispers, almost a little irritated. “I’m busy right now.”

You can’t really focus on coming up with a retort because he starts rubbing your clit and as you tilt your head back into the pillows, he starts biting at the flesh he can now easily access, starting gentle but then applying more pressure with his teeth, smirking as you whimper.

Sweat trickles down your back and you wish this was different, but he’s naked from the waist up and you’re unclothed from the waist down, and it’s stupid, you know it’s dumb, that you’re letting this man fuck you with his fingers before you let him see you fully naked. It’s not like no one has before. It’s just a conversation you don’t want to have again.

Still. All this is making you a little too hot to be half-clothed.

Greg wonders why he let you in at all. Why he went through the trouble, bought you dinner, why he’s trying to get you off right now. Maybe it’s to fuck with James. Sure, it was originally, but now he feels like it was James who fucked with him, set him up, used predictable behaviors to create a predictable outcome. Still. If you’d been professional with him instead of giving him crassness right back, he would’ve decided to make your life a living hell instead of getting you in between his sheets. Either way, he was going to make someone miserable.

Himself, first and foremost.

Not that he can really be miserable right now. It’s not terrible being needed in this sense, he’s remembering.

You weren’t like Stacy, though, not here. You’re louder, not in a patronizing way where you exaggerate your moans to try and stroke a man’s ego, but it’s like you genuinely can’t hold yourself back. It’s hot. It’s unreserved. It’s… passionate in a way Stacy just wasn’t. She loved him, he knows that, but when things got hard and he got mean instead of fighting back she got cold and walked away.

Not that he can glean exactly how you’d be in an argument from how you act in bed, but he has a feeling you don’t let go of things easily.

And… well. Takes one to know one.

Who would give in, though?

His relationship with Stacy worked before his leg because Stacy would accommodate, she would compromise herself for him. It’s why his friendship with James works now. Sure. Both of them gave him some pushback — it’s not like they in good conscience could let him get away with all the things he wanted to do. And eventually he pushed Stacy until she broke.

You, though? You don’t seem like you shatter easily. If anything you seem like you’d harden like a scar, healing over stronger, uglier, thicker, nothing really hurting you because you’d just put more walls up. You’d fight him to the bitter end.

And you know, maybe he wants that. Someone he’s not afraid to push too far because he knows you’ll push right back the second he gets even an inch.

All he really knows is your vague med list, that you got into a motorcycle accident almost a decade ago, and that you chose to be a psychiatric provider among all other things you could have been. And yet… he feels like he can glean much more.

All he really knows in this moment is that you’re coming apart under his fingers, gripping his forearm with your hands as he drags out your orgasm, trying to get him away from your now overstimulated cunt.

“She comes in colors everywhere,” he mutters, smirking lazily at you, dragging his fingers out of you, finally, then brings them to his mouth, sucking slowly on each one.

You scoff at his comment, but just as quickly he sees the light turn green again and you straddle his left thigh, coming to kiss his mouth, hard, bare cunt against his slacks and he can’t help it, he’s thinking about you wrecking them, thinking about your wet pussy on what could’ve been his bare thigh… and he groans despite himself, in pain, yes, but also pleasure - and he’s pulling you closer by the collar of your shirt, and he begins to remember why men put themselves through what could very well be the potential torture of dating a woman.

It’s just so much better when it’s with someone you know. Or… someone you need to know everything about, need to memorize like they’re an extension of yourself.

You’re not soulmates. It’s not love. It’s not romance, like James would decree.

You won’t fix him. He sure as hell won’t fix you.

But you’ll do something to each other, alright.

#greg house x reader #house x reader #greg house x you #gregory house x reader #house md #gregory house

[ultram0th]

31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 31: Tyler Hoechlin to Derek Hale TF

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 │ 14 │ 15 │ 16 │ 17 │ 18 │ 19 │ 20 │ 21 │ 22 │ 23 │ 24 │ 25 │ 26 │ 27 │ 28 │ 29 │ 30 │ 31 🎃

Happy Halloween everyone! I hope you all enjoyed this Derek Hale Tf Marathon! It was so much fun to make, and I hope that you all liked what I put out!

-- -- --

Actor Tyler Hoechlin filtered through some emails to waste time before he had to get ready. The actor was supposed to make an appearance at some celebrity Halloween party for photo ops. He wasn’t above taking a picture here and there, but he hadn’t even began to think about a costume, nor had his assistant just grabbed one for him.

“I could just wear a bedsheet and go as a ghost?” Tyler chuckled to himself, thinking that it’d be so lame that it’d be good.

He deleted several emails from casting agents who thought that he’d be great in one of their low-budget horror movies that was supposed to go straight to steaming services. Tyler couldn’t help but grimace at doing anything horror related.

After spending so many years being cast as Derek Hale on Teen Wolf, the last thing he wanted to do was something spooky-ish, lest he risk being typecasted. Already, the actor played Superman on Superman & Lois, but he still had several people on the street referring to him as “Derek”. Of course, Tyler was grateful that so many fans appreciated his work on the MTV series, but there was a part of him that was ready to let the role go.

Which was why he’d frowned deeply at the email from Jeff Davis, the creator of Teen Wolf. Tyler begrudgingly clicked on it, scanning it a little until he got to the reason for the reaching out:

“…MTV is interested in rebooting the Teen Wolf series, and after the negative reception of the movie, the producers have decided not to count it as canon. Can we count on you to return as Beacon Hills’s resident Alpha, Derek Hale?”

Not even bothering to respond to it, Tyler moved the mouse towards the garbage icon to delete it. Before he could click it, his laptop screen flickered and an odd electric shock sparked out, actually shocking Tyler.

The actor recoiled his hand at the sensation, the electric shock sending a tingling feeling throughout the rest of his body for a brief moment.

“What the hell?” Tyler wondered aloud. He closed his laptop and shoved himself away from his desk, making a mental note to buy a new laptop tomorrow since his was obvious short-circuiting. 

He glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed, seeing that he was supposed to start getting ready for the party. Tyler rubbed his temples and walked towards the bathroom so that he could start getting ready. 

As he undressed, the actor could feel a little apprehension starting to seep into his bones about attending the party. The normally social Tyler Hoechlin, for some unknown reason, began to frown at the thought of being at a stuffy Halloween party that was going to be packed with people, wall to wall. The thought of being trapped in a room, shoulder to shoulder, with other people made Tyler shudder, and he began to think of reasons to bail. He thought that it was odd, but he chalked it up to his social battery just being abnormally low that night.

Still, Tyler told himself that he couldn’t just be a no-show. He’d promised his friend and previous costar, Dylan O’Brien, that he’d show up and the two could catch up over a drink.

Tyler could’ve sworn that his heart started to race in his chest for some reason, his limbs tingling with excitement. “What’s going on?” he mumbled to himself, confused as to why he seemed to be so giddy to see Dylan. “It’s just Stiles. I saw him last week…”

He coughed and cleared his throat, having no clue why he’d accidentally referred to Dylan as his old character, Stiles. Tyler shook it off and hopped into the shower. As he bathed, Tyler couldn’t seem to get Dylan out of his head.

“What is going on with me?” he asked himself, wondering why he couldn’t get the man’s dimples out of his mind. What was even weirder to the man was that his cock started to plump up, sticking straight out in front of him.

Tyler had never had a gay thought in his life, and despite seeing all of the Sterek fan art online, he’d never entertained the thought of him and Dylan together. Yet, for some unknown reason, the more he pictured his toned, mole-spotted body, his cock throbbed even harder.

“Fuck it,” Tyler grunted as he wrapped his fingers around his cock, pumping away.

Tyler was so lost in the pleasure that rippled throughout his body as he jerked off, bellowing out low moans the entire time. His free hand ran over his muscled chest, his fingers running through the thick pelt of chest hair—

“Wh-what?” Tyler grunted as he looked down, still playing with his throbbing cock as he stared down at his previously smooth chest. Despite having just shaved his pecs earlier that morning for some pictures as the smooth-chested Superman, Tyler’s chest was now covered in thick, black chest hair. The hairs covered his meaty pecs and ran down his stomach, connecting to his bush by a noticeable happy trail. “What the hell’s goin’ on?”

Tyler’s confusion was briefly forgotten when all of his large muscles tensed up, and his cock erupted with a spray of cum, shooting a large load against the linoleum of his shower. 

The stud was left panting, leaning against the other wall of the shower as he tried to catch his breath. Tyler ran a shaky hand through his wet hair, trying to piece together the fact that not only was his chest hairy, but he’d also just jerked off to another guy— one of his past costars at that.

“I guess Stiles is kinda cute,” he begrudgingly muttered, flinching for a second. “Um, I mean Dylan.”

Tyler finished up his shower and dried himself off in a daze, struggling to wrap his head around what was going on. He knew that something was up, but whenever he tried to concentrate on it, a new growing part of his brain told him not to worry about it. Even as he dried off his hairy chest, his panic that he knew should’ve been there was barely audible.

The actor was puzzling over it as he lumbered back to his bedroom to get dressed. He opted to grab a nice designer suit of out his closet, one that was supposed to make him look like 007. Yet, when Tyler pulled on the white button shirt, he huffed in irritation over how tight it felt.

“Damn it,” he grunted, unable to close the top four buttons of the shirt over his broad chest muscles. He tried his best to suck in his stomach in order to make himself smaller, but his fuzzy pecs were too large to fit into the tiny shirt. His wide back muscles were far too wide, and his biceps threatened to tear the expensive fabric to shreds. Tyler could’ve sworn that the shirt had fit him perfectly at the store, yet now it was at least two sizes too small for him.

With an annoyed huff, Tyler tossed the shirt to the floor and stomped over to his wardrobe to find something that would fit over his muscles. As he stared at the expensive clothes in his closet, Tyler couldn’t help but feel a large bubble of animosity start to form in his gut. The thought of parading around in such garish and over-priced threads was almost repulsive to him.

Without a second thought, Tyler hurried over to his dresser and yanked on a tight, gray tank top that barely fit over his large muscles. He pulled on some worn blue jeans that hugged his butt nicely. As the finishing piece, Tyler snatched a black leather jacket out of his closet and shrugged it on, feeling much more at home in it than he would some brand name suit.

Tyler paused to look at himself in the mirror before exiting his house, noting that he looked like he was wearing his usual outfit that his character Derek Hale wore on the set of Teen Wolf. He snickered and rolled his eyes, but then gasped.

“What the hell…?” his voice trailed off when he leaned in closer to the mirror, his eyes honing in on his teeth. As impossible as it seemed, Tyler could’ve sworn that his canines were bigger. They stood out much more prominently than the rest of his teeth, looking like the actor was wearing caps over them, trying to make them look larger and sharper. “I, uh, I guess these are supposed to be the sharper teeth… Shit!”

Tyler jerked back in surprise at the way his smooth, freshly shaven chin was now covered in a trimmed beard. The way his sideburns connected to it indicated that Tyler must’ve been growing out his facial hair over the course of a few days, maybe even weeks. However, he knew for a fact that he’d shaved his face not even an hour ago, letting him know that something was indeed wrong.

In disbelief, the hairier hunk grabbed at the hairs covering his chin, shocked that they were real and attached to him.

His heart began to race in his beefy chest, but he was quickly distracted when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Despite himself, Tyler snatched it out and glanced at the screen, his stomach doing flips when he read that it was a text from Stiles/Dylan.

Hey! I’m at the party! You’re coming, right? it read.

Tyler couldn’t ignore the giddy excitement that rippled through him, and he caught himself smiling like a goofball, his larger canines poking out of his mouth.

On my way, he responded, grabbing his keys and leaving his house. 

Tyler rushed over to his garage and opened the door, not even thinking twice before hopping into his black Camaro instead of his Tesla before he sped down the street towards the party, eager to see Stiles— or Dylan.

He floored the gas pedal as he rushed to the party, irritated when he hit a red light. Tyler groaned impatiently and rested his head against the headrest in irritation. His eyes glanced towards the rearview mirror, and Tyler gasped at what he saw.

He almost tore the rearview mirror off of its fixture as he leaned closer, seeing that his brow appeared much more prominent than it should’ve. That, and his eyebrows were missing for some reason. His ears had elongated, ending in points that protruded far off his head.

Tyler ran a disbelieving hand over his facial features, feeling ridiculous. He had just enough awareness to recall looking in the mirror on the set of Teen Wolf, seeing the same exact look whenever he was made up into Derek Hale’s beta form. Yet, he could feel the nerve endings whenever he touched his new canine ears, paling at what that indicated—

HONK! 

The car behind him blared its horn as the light turned green, snapping Tyler out of his panic.

Tyler just bared his teeth in the mirror and continued on his way. All of the cars on the road, the bright lights of the city, and the too poppy songs on the radio all seemed to get under the stud’s skin, and a firm scowl planted itself onto his handsome face.

It wasn’t long until Tyler pulled up in front of a large convention center that had a valet service up front. He stopped and got out of his Camaro, unable to hold back the intimidating snarl when he tossed the valet his keys.

“There better not be a scratch on it when I get back,” he muttered, noting the deeper quality to his voice. He cleared his throat as he walked up towards the entrance where a large bouncer stood, clipboard in hand.

“Name?” the bouncer asked.

“Derek Hale,” Tyler answered automatically, flinching and clearing his throat again. “Sorry about that, my name’s Der— er, Tyler Hoechlin.” He didn’t know why saying his name seemed like some Herculean feat, the actor having to clench his fists in order to get it out of his mouth.

The bouncer simply looked down at the list on the clipboard before nodding and ushering Tyler inside.

Tyler rubbed at his temples as he tried to piece together what was happening. However, the second he stepped foot inside, all of his senses appeared to have heightened as they were all assaulted at once. 

Tyler winced at the onslaught of stimuli: the lights in the room were far too bright and he had to nearly squint in order to adjust his sight; the music was blaring out of the speakers, blasting at a near deafening volume; and the stench of overpriced alcohol singed his nostrils, making him grimace. The stud was ready to about face until a familiar scent wafted by.

It took a few seconds for Tyler to realize that he’d been sniffing at the air like a search dog, blushing once he’d been made aware of the other celebrities eying him confusedly. Still, the familiar smell of curly fries alerted him to someone else’s presence, and he found himself barreling through the crowd towards the source.

Tyler’s gaze honed in on Stiles, the cute guy standing over by one of the tables. He was dressed in a suit that had a red coat that made Tyler’s heart flutter in his chest. Immediately, he felt his scowl starting to loosen up the slightest bit, and the more he approached, the quicker Tyler noticed the other guy talking to Stiles.

“Grrr…” Tyler growled out of instinct. As soon as the animalistic sound left his lips, the shocked stud slapped a hand over his mouth. He had no idea why he’d literally just growled like a dog, but once he looked back over at Stiles and the other man talking, he couldn’t prevent the sound from uttering from his lips once more, his large chest vibrating from the noise.

Stiles picked up on the noise and looked over in his direction, smiling and waving him over. “Hey!” he called.

Tyler ceased growling and couldn’t prevent the wide smile from growing on his face as he hurried over to his boyfriend— or past costar. As Tyler was trying to figure out why he was so eager to see the other guy, he wasn’t even aware of the fact that he wrapped a possessive arm around Stiles’s waist, pulling the smaller guy closer into him.

Stiles turned to the other man. “Jeff, you remember Derek, right?” he asked before furrowing his brow in confusion.

The other guy just looked over at Tyler and nodded. “I sure do,” he grinned, holding out his hand for Derek to shake. 

At first, the werewolf just sneered at the other man’s hand, jealousy still coursing through his veins. However, after a slight nudge from Stiles, Derek begrudgingly took it and squeezed it tightly, enjoying the slight wincing from the other man. “Nice to meet you,” he grunted.

Jeff didn’t look too fazed. “As I was telling Dylan, er, Stiles over here,” he said, “I was hoping to hear more about your stories in Beacon Hills. I’m with a large production company that would love to—”

“Not interested,” Derek interrupted, having absolutely zero desire to have his pack’s business advertised in any manner. He was as anti-social as they came, and the idea of talking to some big shot production guy made his headache grow.

Jeff frowned. “…yeah, I guess I did write him like this…”

Derek ignored that, and instead held on tightly to Stiles as he led him out of the crowd of people and towards the exit. They left the convention center and handed the valet the ticket.

“Der,” Stiles piped up, looking just as confused as he was, “um, how the hell did we get in LA?”

Derek’s brow furrowed too as he scratched at the back of his head. He felt like something was wrong, hearing some quiet voice in the back of his head that said that he wasn’t an alpha werewolf. For a brief second, his hairy muscles felt far too big and he wondered why he was so turned on by another man. However, the voice was immediately silenced when Stiles interlocked his fingers with his.

“No fuckin’ clue,” Derek finally said, shaking his head as he took the keys back from the valet. He and Stiles got into the Camaro, and Derek sped down the street back towards Beacon Hills. 

The alpha werewolf rested his arm around the headrest of Stiles’s seat, the motion making his large biceps stretch his leather jacket slightly. Stiles leaned in closer to him, resting his head on his broad shoulder. Derek couldn’t help but puff out his hairy chest with pride, his inner wolf howling with content.

Derek Hale smiled widely, absolutely loving his life.

#31 days of derek hale #Derek Hale #Derek Hale TF #dylan o'brien #Sterek #stiles stilinski #Teen Wolf #Werewolf #Werewolf TF #Character TF #Muscle #Musclegrowth #Hairy #straight to gay

[sister-juniper]

Reciprocated Feelings (Terzo x GN Reader)

⋆˙⟡ Fluff with some sexual references ✮⋆˙

Summary: You and Terzo are friends with benefits, but you had developed romantic feelings. Unbeknownst to you, Terzo feels the same.

☆ Word Count: 1446 ☆

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You and Papa Terzo had been fooling around for quite some time, a few months to be exact.

It all began during one of his sermons, you were sitting in the front row, right in Terzo's line of sight. He noticed you gazing lustfully at him. You see, Terzo had a knack for being able to read people, especially through their eyes. He could tell the intention behind that look you gave him by simply studying your eyes for a few seconds.

In return, he shot you the same stare, which caught you off guard. The entire rest of that sermon was spent with you getting more and more desperate, while you and Terzo practically eye-fucked each other.

An hour after all of that began, the sermon ended, and the entirety of the congregation filed out of the main hall and into the dining hall. You however, chose to stick around a few extra minutes. This proved to be a great decision, as Terzo did the exact same. As soon as the two of you were given some space, he was able to whisk you away to the privacy of his quarters. That was the first time of many when you two did anything.

From the start, your relationship had been strictly sexual and platonic. No romance or exclusivity involved. One would message the other when in need of some sexual favors, and the other would show up at the other's room a few minutes later. You two would do it, and then part ways once again.

Of course, Terzo had others, he was Papa Emeritus of course. You were not the only one he lusted after, and you knew this. You played along with his act, you acted okay with it, and you hid how you felt internally. You would rather have him like this than not have him at all. 

You tried to give the impression to him that you had others as well. You didn't want to look too "needy". In reality, nobody else really interested you in that manner like Terzo did. The only person who you wanted to touch you was him. You didn't care to invite any other siblings or ghouls into your bed. Your body would only enjoy the touch of Terzo.

He knew how to please you, he could play your body like a game of chess, but most importantly, he was the one you fancied. He was your type.

Each time the two of you finished doing it, after you parted ways, you wondered what it would be like if he stayed just a bit longer. If he stayed to coax you to sleep, run his fingers through your hair, and whisper sweet nothings into your ear. You began to crave that, but still, that never happened.

At first, you brushed your feelings to the side. You ignored your heart gnawing at you. After all, there wasn't much you could do or say. You felt like Terzo was the one calling the shots, and you were just another sibling of sin. 

But after a few months of this, it was getting too intense. Every single time the two of you did things, you held back so hard from letting an "I love you" slip out of your mouth. Every single time, you could barely save yourself from asking "could you stay a little while longer?" as Terzo was putting his shoes on to leave. 

You began to realize what you felt would eventually slip out. It got harder and harder to hide it each time. It was only a matter of time before the confession left your lips.

You decided to put together a plan, a plan to ask him out on a date. You decided you would rather risk losing the sexual encounters, instead of just continuing on like this. You couldn't do it anymore.

Your plan was fairly simple, but also quite cute. You would go to a flower shop, buy a bouquet of purple lilac flowers, and show up at his office to ask. You knew Terzo would love those flowers, as he usually kept a vase of them on his desk. You were only about 50% sure of this actually working in your favor, but you chose to go along with it anyways.

The next morning, you went to your usual services, did your daily chores, and then when you finally had a few hours of free time, you took the bus down to the flower shop.

Something that you thought was odd however, was Terzo's absence during the daily sermon. Instead, it was his younger brother, Cardinal Copia, who took over. It made you a bit anxious, but you chose to shrug it off as him just being busy with something.

You bought the flowers, and got back on the bus with a sense of hopefulness. Maybe this would work out, you prayed to Satan that it would. Still, you had to be realistic, and were also mentally preparing yourself for the worst to happen.

You arrived back at the Ministry, and rushed upstairs to your room to do a few things first. You had to be quick, as dinner time is soon, and Terzo would not be in his office during that time. You made it to your room, applied a bit of makeup, sprayed on some of your best perfume, fixed your habit a little bit, and then you were ready to go.

You took a deep breath, clutched the flowers in your hands, and started walking down the corridor to Terzo's office. Quickly, of course.

You had turned the final corner to his office, when you suddenly collided with something. You panicked and reached down to pick up the flowers, before looking up and realizing who you just bumped into. It was Terzo.

He too was picking up a bouquet of flowers off of the floor, black dahlias, and looked a little flustered.

"O-oh hi Terzo. Im so sorry I wasn't looking where I was going"

You stared at him, wide-eyed, feeling the blush began to creep onto your cheeks. This is not how you wanted this to go, and why did he have flowers too?

"Ah tesoro, it is okay. Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Terzo said, seemingly equally as flustered.

"Oh uh..." you searched your brain for some sort of excuse, any kind of excuse, but you couldn't think of any. What other excuse would there be to you rushing in the direction of his office holding his favorite flowers? "I was coming to see you."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you waited for him to respond. He looked at you, then the flowers, then back at you again.

"Coming to see me? With that beautiful bouquet?"

You nodded and looked away with embarrassment.

"Well uh, actually tesoro, I was headed to do the same."

You looked back up at him and studied his face. He had a small smile, and you could see a little blush under his paints, and wait a minute... he was holding black dahlias. Your favorite flowers.

"W-wait... you were coming to give me those?" You questioned as you pointed to the bouquet.

He nodded "Sí, and you were coming to give me those?" he questioned while pointing to the flowers you held.

You nodded. "I actually got these for a reason you know..." you said as you trailed off

"What reason is that, cara mia?"

"I wanted to ask you on a date."

Terzo smiled warmly and stepped a little closer. "I was coming to do the exact same thing."

You looked at him in bewilderment. "You were??"

"Sí, that is why I wasn't at the sermon this morning. I was out buying these" He said in reference to the flowers

You smiled a wide smile as he handed you the beautiful arrangement of flowers. You took it from him, and handed him the purple lilac's in return.

"How did you know black dahlia's are my favorite?"

"I took a guess, I saw them in your room. How did you know I like purple lilacs?"

"I also saw them in your room" You said with a giggle

"Ah well, we are both quite observant aren't we?"

You nodded with a smile and a small "mhm"

"Well... what do you say to that date tesoro? You free this Friday night?"

You perked up and nodded enthusiastically "Yes, I am free"

"Perfetta. I will pick you up from your room at 6 p.m."

"I will be ready"

Terzo smiles at you "I can't wait"

The two of you share a kiss and part ways. As soon as you get back to your room, you place the gorgeous bouquet in a vase full of water. Terzo does the same in his office. You can't believe that just happened, but you are overjoyed to say the least. 

He feels the same as you do. 

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#ghost #the band ghost #ghost bc #papa emeritus iii #ghost terzo #terzo #ghostbc #band ghost #terzo emeritus #papa terzo #terzhoe #papa emeritus terzo #terzo fanfiction #terzo my beloved #terzo x reader #papa iii #ghost band #papa 3 #papa emeritus #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus fic #papa emeritus lll #papa emeritus the third #fluff #ghesties #ghumblr #ghost the band #the ghost band #ghost fluff #ghost fanfiction