#i am usually not like this at all but this matter really poked me in all the wrong spots

[chuluoyi]

✎ protect

- gojo satoru x reader

the word “protect” now means so much more to him

genre: soft and playful gojo, sugary dump fluff, pregnant!reader

note: anyone craving some soft gojo? :3 based on a suggestion by an anon who needs a soft gojo a while back, thank you!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

When he was 16, Gojo Satoru thought that protecting other people was a pain, and didn't take it seriously.

Later, when he realized that even non-sorcerers deserve to live their lives in peace, he dedicated himself to becoming stronger so that he would be capable to protect them more. However, even then, he didn't perceive their worth as significant.

But when you entered the picture, that measly, glorified word suddenly became so much more.

Usually people would only care about whether he had succeeded his mission or not. His formidable reputation as the epitome of strength means no one is genuinely interested in his wellbeing—no one after Suguru, to be exact—until you did.

After a whirlwind romance of attraction and banters, Satoru reached the conclusion that he wanted you, the only person left who actually made him feel like a human, to stay happy and safe. He would do it with his own hands, even if it meant reshaping this cruel world to be kinder for you with him as your shield.

And the word “protect” gained an entirely new meaning years later, when he rested his head on your swollen belly—the place where his new cherished treasure was growing.

“When will he come out~?” he asked in a whiny tone and a blissful smile, even though he clearly knew the answer.

You shook your head with playful resignation, unable to conceal your smile. "In three weeks. Now help me get comfortable, you dork."

He helped you turn over and fetched a pillow to place under your aching spine. Then, with a mischievous grin, he lightly poked your belly with two fingers, eliciting a yelp from you.

"Don't poke me! You're poking your child!"

To that, Satoru merely threw his head back and snickered like the dumbass he was. He then tenderly rested his hand on the taut skin of your belly, gently massaging it, smiling with ardent happiness.

"Can't really believe it," he sighed, brimming with the purest sense of contentment. "A mini Gojo, huh... You're really doing a honorable work."

A child of his and yours. He had always wondered how he would be after seeing him firsthand—would he laugh just like he had been doing now, or will it be the first instance that move him to the point of shedding tears? One of the reasons he eagerly anticipated his son's birth was just to discover how he would react.

Seeing the weight of his baby growing within you, making you rounder and fuller, stirred a deep well of warm emotions in him with each passing day though.

"I am," you retorted cheekily, rolling your eyes. "In fact, you should be revering and worshipping me for carrying your spawn."

He merely hummed in a childlike manner, feeling his baby move around under his touch. You were about to roast him again with something funny when he leaned down and planted a kiss on your tummy, whispering to it.

"Please come out already~ Papa wants to meet you!"

Your heart swelled with warmth at that moment. Gojo Satoru was many things, but he wasn't typically known for his softness—he was often seen as this all-perfect being, and so witnessing him acting purely on his human emotions brought you a sense of happiness.

“Who do you think he’ll take after?” you mused.

“Hmmm. Me, obviously. He'll be hot just like me!” he quipped proudly, and you playfully smacked him on the arm.

Satoru caught your hand and kissed it tenderly amidst his grin. "But I want him to have your personality. I'd hate to see him be a show-off."

"So you do realize that you're actually a menace."

He laughed out loud, patting the generous swell of your belly again with a smug look on his face.

"I know, but I'm your menace, and that's all that matters."

And when his adorable son was born less than three weeks later and you passed out due to sheer exhaustion, Satoru vowed by everything in the heavens and the earth that he wouldn't spare anything to protect you and his child from this curse-filled world.

Epilogue - on the night of the birth -

“Satoru—” you panted, grimacing, head jerking back as your womb throbbed and pulsed in order to bring forth your child into the world. “I… feel like I’m going to faint…”

Worry etched his face as you leaned on him. “Hey, hey… Calm down sweetheart, relax and catch up on your breath, okay? Don’t worry, he’ll come out soon.”

Somehow his words rubbed you the wrong way.

“Hahh—this… is because of you! This happened because you shoved your stick into me! You horny bas—aahh!”

“Well, hey! Last I remembered, you begged me to put it into you! And I'm not—pfft—”

“Then what are you?!”

“Hmmm, nothing but a man who got you pregnant, sweetheart~”

“If I bleed out and die, it’s going to be your fault, you evil, wretched sorcerer!”

[mariasont]

Office Sleepover - A.H

a/n: this is honestly kind of shit but whatever

might make this a mini series?

part two here!

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which reader gets put on a hit-list and has to stay in the office (kind of based off when penelope got put on a hit-list by the dirty dozen)

warnings: reader kind of flashes hotch, really inconsistent with how the gov works i'm sure, there's also definitely not an oven in the break room but in my world there is <3

wc: 3.8k

Hotch's voice reached you, but the words tangled into an indecipherable code as they hit the air. You nodded, a reflex, but it was as if your brain had short-circuited. You could make out fragments--a hit on you, stay at office, 24/7 protection, you can take the back office. But no matter how many times he said it, it seemed to ricochet through your head, making less sense each time. You were on a hit list? A hit list?

It all felt very made up, like a script ripped straight out of a tv show. Risk was a part of the BAU job description, but a hit list? For a fleeting moment, a chuckle hovered at the brink of your lips, but it was swiftly swallowed by a wave of dread that rose in its place. You blinked a couple times, probably too many in a vain attempt to clear the fog and bring Hotch's face into focus.

"But what about all my stuff? And you want me to camp out here in the office? For how long, Hotch? I mean, I'm all for overtime, but this is... this is a lot, and I--," you babble, your speech racing ahead of your thoughts. "And my baking? That's my biggest stress reliever. Not to mention my DIY projects--I can't just abandon my half-finished throw pillowcases. Plus, how many pairs of shoes is too many for an office closet?"

Your pout formed a delicate bow, and though he said nothing, his eyes softened. Hotch could feel the frown marring his features. He might never say it, but seeing you like this struck a chord, making it a little hard to breathe. 

Circling the desk, he planted himself in front of you, his hand settling on your shoulder. "Hey, take a deep breath," he urges softly. "Let's take it one step at a time. List out what you need, someone will bring it here. Your baking supplies, DIY projects, even your shoes."

True to Hotch's word, as usual, you found every piece of your life carefully compartmentalized into cardboard boxes, lined up carefully in the office that now doubled as your temporary room. There was an odd sense of dislocation in finishing your workday and needing only to count about thirty steps before arriving at your room.

You swung the door closed, the sound sealing the room as a deep sigh wrapped around you and you started sifting through the boxes. The pullout couch serving as your bed was less than appealing, its worn fabric making you grimace internally. Nevertheless, you diverted your attention, busying yourself with the organizing of your extensive collection of things. Spencer would definitely shake his head at the sight of the vast amount of clothes you had brought.

The irony wasn't lost on you; surrounded by the office's ceaseless motion, yet you felt more alone than in the stillness of your own apartment. God, this was pathetic, and you needed a drink, but you had a nagging suspicion the office handbook would have a thing or two to say about that. You spent a solid two hours attempting to infuse the sterile space with a touch of home, it wasn't perfect (at all), but it would have to do.

Rossi knocks on the doorframe, poking his head in with a grin. "I didn't realize we were redecorating the bureau in shades of bubblegum," he teases. "How you doing, kid?"

"Actually, it's blush," you correct with a mock-serious tone, meeting his smile with one of your own. "I'm fine," you insist, but Rossi's knowing look prompts a quick add-on. "I am, really, I mean I've always said I wanted my own office."

"An office with a view of the bullpen, no less. You're living the dream," he says, his eyes scanning the room. "Need any help with anything? Or anything else from your place? Maybe your favorite mug to make feel more like home?"

"Don't worry, I'm already one step ahead of you," you assure him, revealing a drawer brimming with mugs.

Rossi lets out a low appreciative whistle. "Why am I not surprised?" he chuckles with a broad grin. "Well, I'm heading out for the night. Remember, I'm just a call away if you need anything. And Hotch is still here, buried in paperwork as usual."

He left, and you were alone--a cue to try and cling to some normalcy of your routine; you drew the blinds and slipped into the comfort of your pajamas. You hauled yourself off to the office bathroom, reluctantly at that, and proceeded to attend to your skincare, brush your hair, and polish your smile with a thorough teeth brushing.

Eyeing the hallway warily, you made a silent exit from the bathroom, the carpet softening your footfalls. But in your rush to avoid prying eyes, you crashed into a solid wall of a figure, the force sending you tumbling backward. You hit the floor with a muted thud, your ass hitting the ground, legs splayed inelegantly in front of you. Your eyes rose to meet the firm, penetrating look of Hotch. Of fucking course.

There was a pause as Hotch's eyes drank in the sight of your flushed complexion and the wide, doe-like eyes that seemed to capture the light just so. He felt like his heart could stop then and there. And he knew it was wrong, but he certainly liked the sight of you sprawled below him. He blinked, breaking the trance, and offered a concerned, "Are you okay?" His hands were outstretched, ready to pull you back to your feet. 

Your cheeks turned a deeper shade as you held onto Hotch's hand, the feeling unexpectedly comforting, rough in yours but nice. "What? Oh, yeah, I'm all good, sorry about that," you managed to say, the words squeaking out a tad too eagerly. 

You stood up, and his closeness was all-consuming. You were suddenly intensely aware of every breath, every throb of your heart, and your mind went blank; the usual stream of thoughts replaced by a buzzing silence.

His eyes held yours for a fraction longer than necessary before he stepped back, creating a respectful distance. The hallway's warmth seemed to dissipate with the space, leaving you with an unexpected stab of disappointment. 

"Rossi said you'd be here. Anything I can do to help?" 

You rationalized the offer as a gesture of your goodwill, but a small part, well a big part, of you knew just wanted to be close to him, to be alone with him maybe--in the office, after hours, in his office. This was weird, I mean, you'd always admired your Unit Chief, but this was different. You chalked it up to the day's unfortunate series of events--you were tired, and lonely, and you needed desperately to snap out of it before you made a fool out of yourself.

"No, you need to rest. It's been a long day, and you've been through enough." He paused, his gaze assessing you. "How are you holding up?"

"At this rate, I'll need a sign that says 'I'm fine,' to stop the check-ins." Although you silently doubted that would deter him. You gesture to the surroundings. "And this? It's like a sleepover at work. Just hoping this so-called hit man doesn't show up."

Hotch internally recoiled at your words, leaving him with the sensation of a cold grasp tightening around his heart. He cleared his throat, the joke falling flat in the gravity of his concern. "I'll be here for a while longer. If you need anything, don't hesitate to come find me," he managed a nod before retreating to his office.

A while longer? You knew Hotch was a workaholic, but it now occurred to you that he must never sleep. Quickly, you gathered your scattered belongings, and made your way to your office.

The pull-out couch seemed even less inviting than you remembered, if that was possible. You perched on the edge, the metallic frame cold through the thin mattress. As you lay down, the couch seemed to swallow you in its awkward angles. Perfect. Tossing and turning, you struggled to find a comfortable spot. Eventually, exhaustion won over discomfort, the rhythm of your own breathing lulling you into a fitful sleep.

Your eyes flickered open at some point during the night and the blinds drifted apart, as if by an unseen hand, and through the gap, your eyes fell on a hooded figure, the face not visible in the dim light. Your muscles locked in terror, an icy fear clawing its way up your spine as you tried to move--to reach for your gun, to call out for Hotch, to do anything. But as if imprisoned by an invisible force, you could only watch, confined to the bed, as the figure crept towards the door. 

A scream tore from your throat, a raw and piercing sound that ricocheted off the walls and echoed through your eyes. This was it, you thought. 

Then, in an instant, you were awake and disoriented, your breaths coming in short bursts, and your body covered in a sheen of cold sweat. Your fingers clenched the sheets, the fabric twisting in your grasp as you fought to decipher what was reality. Your eyes snapped to the blinds, half-expecting to see the figure from your dream materialize, but the emptiness beyond them slowly calmed your racing heart.

With a throat dry as parchment and your pulse still echoing in your ears, you drifted from your room towards the break room. As you ambled past Hotch's office, you paused. The door, slightly ajar, felt like an invitation. Despite knowing better, a foggy curiosity nudged your feet forward. With a shaky breath, you eased the door open wider and slipped inside. 

His office felt different at night--it was quieter, more personal, and you felt like an intruder on Hotch's private world. You took a moment, absorbing the sight of his meticulously organized desk, the case files that were always present.

It was tempting to try to piece together the man from his workspace, but you held back. As you turned to leave, a familiar scent stopped you--the subtle hint of his cologne hanging in the air. It wrapped around you, easing the tension that had sunk into your limbs. Almost without thinking, you found yourself sinking into the couch.

The room, infused with his distinct scent, seemed to have your blinking growing heavier, more intentional. You nestled deeper into the cushions; the fabric familiar beneath your fingers, lulling you into a sense of security. Just five minutes, you thought.

Hotch's steps were slow, his eyelids having a hard time staying open as he made his way through the bullpen. He carried his briefcase, the leather handle worn and conformed to his hand. He contemplated a detour to your office, a silent check-in to ease his mind, but he dismissed the idea--you were probably still asleep, and he'd definitely look like a creep. Reaching his own office, he noticed the door ajar, a sliver of morning light spilling through the gap.

He stepped into the room, and time seemed to stand still as his gaze landed on the couch. There you were, fast asleep on his couch. Your hand lay gently under your cheek, a makeshift pillow softening the hard angles beneath, while your nose gave the faintest twitches. Your lips were parted as if mid-whisper and strands of your hair were splayed in a disarrayed crown around your head. He knew that in no way could that have been comfortable. It hurt his back just looking at you, but still you looked so peaceful.

He moved with quiet steps, heat creeping up his neck as he placed his things on the desk. Turning back to you, he couldn't help but notice the gentle dishevelment of your pajamas, buttons undone in innocent disarray, the fabric parting to reveal the gentle slope of your breasts. He felt an odd mix of emotions--a gentle chiding for finding you in such state, and the guilt of finding the sight so undeniably sweet. 

A quiet cough escaped him, more out of habit than necessity, as he approached a cabinet where blankets were neatly stacked--a nod to many nights spent just as you were. He draped one over you, his movements slow and unhurried, shielding you from potential curious eyes before finding his normal place behind the wooden desk.

He tried to focus--really, he did. I mean, he had a towering pile of paperwork and responsibilities that demanded his attention. But despite his best efforts, his gaze involuntarily drifted to you time and time again. It was as if he needed visual confirmation of your steady breathing to assure himself that you were okay. He thought about you here all night, alone, and he found his knuckles whiten against the grip of his pen. He knew you had security on you at all times, but somehow, he found no comfort in that.

Hotch's eyes flicked to the clock--7:30 am. You still had at least another half an hour before you technically needed to start work, although truth be told he would let you sleep as long as your body allowed. There was no way in hell he was going to disturb you when you looked so content. 

As Hotch worked, the morning light grew stronger, casting a warm glow over his desk. It was nearly 9 am when the sound of shifting fabric eventually roused you. You were waking up, blinking away the remnants of sleep, confusion etched on your face. As your eyes caught sight of the clock and Hotch, mortification set it. 

"Oh my gosh, Hotch. I am so sorry," you blurted out, embarrassment coloring your cheeks. "You could've woken me up--I... I should've set an alarm. And I shouldn't even be here, but I can explain, sort of..."

In a flurry of motion, you leapt from the couch, only to feel a sudden tug at your chest as a button from your top snagged on a stray thread. The fabric pulled open, revealing way more than what was appropriate for your boss to see. Your face turned a shade redder as you scrambled to cover up. Hotch, momentarily sidetracked by the sight of the cleavage of your tits once again, quickly refocused and interrupted your flustered explanations.

"It's fine," he assured. "Given everything that's happened, you needed the rest." He nodded towards the couch. "You're always welcome to sleep here if you need to--though I can't promise it'll be any more comfortable next time."

"Oh no, it was super comfortable, really," you insist, despite the awkwardness clinging to your words. Hotch gives you a look that says he's not entirely convinced. "Okay, well, I'm going to uh... go," you mumble, stopping short at the door with a sudden concern.

Hotch understands immediately and offers, "They're all in the briefing room--won't be out for a while."

With a relieved nod, and minimal eye contact, you dash out, hoping to reach your office unnoticed. But because the world just hated you these past days, just as you're rushing by, Morgan's hands come to your shoulders to stop you.

"Easy there, mama," he teases, a smile on his face. But as he gets a good look at your attire, his grin grows wider. "What in the world...?" he starts, laughter in his voice. He glances from you to Hotch's office door, then back again. "Hold up, hold up--you didn't... with Hotch? Are you?"

"What? No, Morgan, absolutely not! Why would you even--oh my god," you gasp, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. God, I mean, the day hasn't even started, and you needed it to end. Realizing your voice has risen in your flustered state, you quickly lower it to a harsh whisper, your eyes darting around to ensure no one overheard. "Why would you even suggest that?"

"Um, maybe because you're making a grand exit from the boss man's office in your PJs? Just a wild guess."

"No, Morgan, it's not what you think," you insist, but your attention snaps to the sound of the team's voices nearing the door. "I don't have time for this," you mutter, darting back to your office. 

In a whirlwind, you shed the pajamas, slip into your work attire, and hastily run a brush through your hair. Good enough. 

You threw yourself into work, the stack of papers becoming a welcome distraction, a rare sense of relief rather than the familiar dread. It was a considerable effort to divert your mind from the distractions--Hotch, the hit man, and Morgan's incessant teasing. Not that anyone would believe that you and Hotch were together; he was the very definition of sophisticated, handsome, and successful, and you were just, well, you.

Not that there was anything wrong with you. You liked yourself just fine; you laughed too loudly at jokes, talked to your houseplants as if they were your old friends, and you had an odd fascination with weather patterns. These things made you wholly you. You just knew you couldn't be more different from Hotch.

With a bit of luck and purposeful avoiding, your day passed smoothly, sparing you any unnecessary run-ins with Hotch. Everyone had gone home for the day which is why you stood in the break room attempting some baking recipe from Pinterest. 

The slippers on your feet padded against the carpet as you hummed around the room. With swift motions, you ushered the coffee cake batter into the oven, then turned to tackle the mess you had created on the countertops. Cleaning as you go wasn't your usual style, but office break room didn't seem like the place for your usual creative sprawl. 

Your phone had buzzed incessantly with Penelope's calls--her offers the keep you company is why you loved her, but you weren't going to subject her to that, no matter how many times she said she didn't mind.

Hotch's office was quiet, save for the soft scratching of his pen against paper as he finally closed his files. He moved into bullpen and as he passed the breakroom, the soft hum of the light and faint sound of movement drew him in. There you were, engrossed in tidying up, with your hair casually gathered above your shoulders and wearing your sweats, Hotch found him instinctively pausing to watch. 

He knew he shouldn't bother you, knew he was likely the last person you'd want to see, yet he found himself rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on you, the warmth in his chest intensifying with each fleeting second.

The moment you turned and saw a figure, a sharp gasp cut through the silence, and the icing in your grasp became a sweet projectile that flew across the room. Relief washed over you as you realized who it was.

"Jeez, Hotch, give me a heart attack why don't you," you said, half-laughing as your heart rate settled. "Especially when there's a hitman who might beat you to the punch."

Hotch parted his lips to speak, but you were quicker, a stream of thoughts tumbling out before you could stop them. "I thought everyone was gone. You weren't at your desk earlier--oh wait, you had that meeting with the DOJ, right? Did they have anything about the people who marked me?" 

In your haste, you closed the gap between you, and only then did you spot the icing on his cheek. "Oh, sorry about that, Hotch," you said with an apologetic grin, reaching out as if to wipe it away. 

As your palm made contact with his skin, a shared realization of the intimacy of the gesture washed over you. Time seemed to slow as your thumb traced a lingering path through the icing, your whisper barely audible, "There."

The word seemed to hang in the air as you froze, the proximity suddenly overwhelming, your breath caught in your throat. Hotch's backward step was almost imperceptible, but it was enough. You cleared your throat awkwardly, cheeks warming with a flush. "Um, did you need something?"

Hotch shook his head slightly, "No, just wanted to check on you before I head out."

You gave a thumbs up, mustering a smile. "Well, consider me checked."

Hotch nodded, his expression unreadable. "Goodnight," he said, to which you echoed in response as you watched him leave.

Alone now, you slumped against the counter, your hand pressed to your face. Consider me checked? God, someone needed to tape your mouth shut.

[bananami]

STFUATTDLAGG

character/s: choso kamo x afab!reader

SYNOPSIS: meangirl!reader x loser!choso is a pairing that lives in my head rent free so when you all voted for choso to be the next hot man i wrote for i knew this was what would come out of it so let’s get into it whores

WARNINGS: this is college based bc u know why. 18+, nsfw, mdni, the whole shebang, kiddos avert ur eyes IT'S ALL SMUT / also just be aware i did use fem language for reader. as always, i did not proof read xxx

A/N: delusion is like drugs for simps, and i am the crackhead

Choso isn't like a nerdy loser, more like he’s just an emo boy, he’s got that alternative look going on and in a school full of preppy rich kids he stands out like a sore thumb. Of course this leads to some not so nice kids being not so nice to him, to which like he literally could not care less. He pays no mind to what anyone thinks of him beyond of course what his brothers think of him.

And as much as people aren’t nice to him, they do not fuck with him directly, lowkey scared of his reactions. Especially following a specfic incident in which someone tried to pick a fight with him. At first he was going to just let it slide but then they said something rude about Yuuji and this man laid them out. People were sent to urgent care and everything. Choso was put on suspension and almost kicked out, but their family friend is a lawyer and threatened to sue the school and anyways (if you know who you know who) so he was allowed back at school and everyone’s a little weary of him. This doesn’t stop the mean comments from coming.

And you. You’re no exception. You made fun of him every chance you got. The way he always did his hair in that weird double bun updo, or how he had his nails painted black, his various piercings and tattoos, the way he dressed so much different, was so much different, than any of the other guys you knew at school.

And you were so disgustingly attracted to him. While everyone would sneer and make fun of him and you played along, in reality you were internally berating yourself.

Choso did his best to ignore you but to be honest in the end you were just too fun to mess with. He thought it was cute how you thought you could hurt his feelings, how you really tried, and didn’t realize that he had a thing for brats and that’s just what you were. Everyone else was too afraid to say it straight to his face ever since the fight except for you.

One time he caught you staring at him and he couldn’t help himself, leaning over with a careless smirk. "If you spent less time staring at me and more time paying attention to the lecture maybe you wouldn’t be failing the class."

"Fuck you, Choso.”

"You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You hoped he’d mistake your embarrassment for anger. He didn’t. You snapped back, as usual. "Maybe if you didn’t dress like such a freak, you’d actually have some friends.”

"Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch your boyfriends would actually stick around for longer than a few months."

The one stung, and you tried not to let it show. Thrown off your game, all you could bring yourself to reply back was: “don’t call me a bitch.”

He shrugged, as though he were bored with the conversation already. "I never said it was a bad thing, just that you keep dating dudes who can’t handle you."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He doesn't answer though, and you spend way too much time thinking about what he could've meant. Was he implying that he could handle you? Was that why he constantly found ways to poke at you? Did he like when you were a brat? Did it matter if he liked it? It led your fantasies down a deep and dark rabbit hole that you spent weeks harping on.

Things get even worse after you realize that Choso might’ve been right about your grades slipping and staring at him in class and whatnot. And (for plot reasons of course) that would mean your professor paired you up with him for the final project so that you’d stand a better chance at passing the class.

Which is how you find yourself standing outside of his apartment door, debating how much you need to actually pass the course for your degree. You kept coming to the same conclusion. You definitely needed to.

"You just gonna stand at my door like a creep or can you move so i can let you inside?” He stood at the top of the staircase up to his apartment, watching you with another bored expression.

You're reaction is second nature. "I’m the creep? How long were you just standing there watching me? Maybe I’d already knocked and you didn’t answer so I was waiting. Let’s get on with it, I don’t need anyone seeing me hanging around-”

"Alright relax, princess. No one’s around to hear you act like you hate me. Come inside and I’ll grab us something to drink.” He opened the door to let you both inside, holding it open for you to enter first.

"First off, I do hate you. And second, how do I know you’re not going to poison me?”

"Don’t worry, I wouldn’t poison you. The plan was going more in the direction of choking.”

"Choked to death? Good to know.”

"You implied killing. All i said was choking.”

"Oh, gross.” You groaned. You pushed away the images that were brought to your mind. Choso's hand around your throat, fingers in your mouth, his breathy whispers telling you what else he'd have you choking on by the end of the night.

It's not too bad for the first few hours. You start out working on the project in the living room, but Choso’s neighbors are loud as all hell and you eventually ask if you guys can move into a room away from that shared wall. And (of course for plot purposes) that would be his bedroom.

"Your bedroom is exactly as I pictured it would be."

"This is the part where I make fun of you for picturing what my bedroom looks like."

"Yeah weird and creepy, just like you.”

"Your insults are getting less and less creative.”

"Yeah well….shut up.”

He’s surprised at that, usually you’d come back at him with something witty and clever and he actually enjoyed it.

It’s quiet and he’s sitting at his desk while you lay casually on his bed when he decides now’s as good a time as ever, and he might never actually get you alone again to say it.

"You ever gonna admit that you find me attractive or keep lying to the both of us?"

You wince. "I don't find you attractive. Stop flattering yourself."

"You flatter me enough with all the staring and drooling you do over me in class."

"You're obsessive," you snap at him.

"At least i can admit it."

You're caught off guard, stuck between wanting to ask what he means and not wanting to give in to the obvious baiting he's doing. When he throws the study material down on to his desk and plops down in front of you on his bed, it seems like he's resigned to not giving you that choice.

"Tell you what, I'll tell you all of the dirty and depraved things I think about on a daily basis, and you can decide after whether you'd like to share those same thoughts of yours with me or not."

"Why would I want to hear any of the thoughts in your head?"

"Because a lot of them revolve directly around you." He's leaned so close you're almost touching one another. Your silence is enough to spur him on. "I think you've never been fucked properly before."

You can't contain the look that falls on your face. "Seriously? This what you think about? My sex life is none of your business, but I'm doing just fine in that department, thank you very much."

He ignores you. "I don't think you've ever been told to shut the fuck up and take it like the good girl I know you can be." That shut you up real quick. Choso is on his knees in front of you, hands cupping around your neck, his thumbs running across your cheeks. "You're whiney little fucking attitude not do it for your boyfriends?" He teased. "They not know how to deal with you when you're being a brat, huh?"

You're head moves without conscious effort, nodding to agree with him.

"You just want some attention, don't you?"

Another nod.

"You want my attention, don't you?"

Hesitation. But you can't help yourself, his presence looming heavy over you, pushing you to admit what you'd kept in the dark for so long.

One of his hands slithers from your throat, down your chest, under the sweats you threw on in a rush to get to his apartment. You're so distracted by his fingers that you don't notice his face moving closer until his mouth is prying yours open. That's all it takes from him to have you stroking your fingers through his hair, pulling it out of the buns they typically are held in.

"Such a little brat." He's hovering over you, pushing your hips into the soft cushion of his bed with his. "Feel how hard it makes me?" He teases as he grinds his hips down, his clothed cock sliding against your center. Your eyes flutter and he grips onto your face with one hand, squeezing firmly. "You're gonna fuck me tonight. Nod if you understand."

You can't believe how quick your head moves up and down. "You're gonna take off those pretty little panties you wore hoping I'd get to see and slide up and down my dick until I tell you to stop. I don't want you cumming until I feel you've begged enough."

It takes no time at all for him to flip the two of you and prop himself up on his forearms. His pants are shimmied off and thrown to his bedroom floor alongside yours.

Your hands are desperate to line him up, anticipation building to have him deep inside of you, but his shoot out to pull them up and place them against his chest. "No, no, no. You don't get me inside you yet, not until you prove to me you deserve it." He urges you along his shaft, flat against his stomach. "That's right, be a good little slut for me and let me feel that pussy slide against my dick."

You watch him from above, his face contorting from concentration to pleasure to near desperation. You've never felt as powerful as you did riding him. Not a single one of your boyfriends ever turning you on as much as Choso was right now. He made you work for it, praising you when you did what he asked, and you chased that praise.

"Shit, look at that baby," he grabbed your hair and yanked your face down to watch yourself slide against him. "Need to feel you squeeze that pussy around me. Fuck, slide me in, slide me in-" his loud groans matched your high pitched sound of relief at having him seated inside you. "Fuck this."

He flipped the two of you back over, gripping each of your legs and forcing them up. "Hold right under your knees for me. Good girl, keep yourself open for me, let me just use you." He fell to his forearms as he plowed into you, giving you no time to get used to any sort of pace.

You tried your best to hold your legs, but you wanted so badly to touch him. One of your hands wandered back up into his lose hair.

He could barely keep his eyes open, mumbling all kinds of truths you were sure he would've kept locked inside had he not been so drunk on the feel of being inside you. "So fucking pretty," he kissed you sloppily, "such a stupid fucking brat, just needed my cock inside you. Feel like heaven, baby. Gonna let me cum inside your little cunt, right? Made me wait so fucking long to have you, I deserve it. Don't I deserve it?"

You can barely form any coherent words, setting for nodding and breathy uh huhs.

"So fucking mean to me, and look how good I'm being to you, huh?" You feel the light slap of his head against your cheek. "Say your sorry, beg me to cum inside your pussy."

You do beg, your apology comes out in between the stuttering and slurring of your words, but you beg and plead with him until he concedes. It his own orgasm that pushes you over, his groans and relentlessness that follow, pushing himself passed the point of no return. You can see the beginning of what looks like tears in his eyes, and he has to force himself to stop, his hips jerking from the overstimulation.

He kisses you ruthlessly, letting his tongue claim your mouth in a manner more harsh than it is anything else. And when he pulls away and his eyes settle back on yours they're equally as harsh.

"No more shitty little boyfriends that can't handle you. I'll handle you. You want my cock, you ask nicely. Understand?"

"Yes," you let your lips peck his, surprising him, "what if I don't wanna be nice about it?"

He smirks, "try it and find out. Now get on your knees and suck my cock like the good girl I know you can be."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Height?” The officer taps the nib on his notepad. 

“Ugh, tall. Er,” you keep your hand on your head. It still throbs. “Um, six foot something? He had to be bigger.” 

“Right,” he squints. “Blond, blue eyes, and a scar. Dressed in all black...” he reads it over. “And he didn’t say anything?” 

“No, sir, I told you. Did you check with security? There's cameras--” 

“Nothing there. Checked all the footage. Some glitch. Guy’s not sure. Not his problem, I guess. Paid minimum wage to sit in a room,” he scoffs. “We can file the report but we can’t do much else. No footage, no proof--” 

“No proof? Look at my head. He ripped my hair out!” You whine. 

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen worse. Should count yourself lucky he left you alive,” he says. 

You shake your head and drop your arm, “uh... thanks, I guess.” 

“Look,” he exhales. “I really don’t have much to go on but this guy sniffs around again, call. File another report.” 

“Right,” you agree glumly. “Thank you, officer.” 

He shrugs, “have a good night. You want me to stick around while you lock up.” 

“It’s fine, I wouldn’t want to waste any more of your time.” 

You sniff and turn around. You’re not surprised by his indifference or his answers. You have friends who had men pounding on their doors and the same reaction. You saw police arresting drunk girls instead of the guys who cornered them in the bathroom. There isn’t much anyone can do, it seems. Especially not you. 

You go through the closing list. You know it by rote but that night, you’re uncertain. You check the clipboard that hangs behind the counter. You’re fractured. The whole world feels like it’s strewn before you. Nothing fits together. You feel like you’re disconnected from your own body. 

God, your head hurts. 

You stop and open up the front camera on your phone. You look at the bald patch again. Near the back. You can’t really see it head on but it’s there. Or not. He just... did that? He took a part of you. 

You close your phone and put it in your pocket. You pull on your jacket and hike your bag onto your shoulders. As you do, the Pom Pom falls onto the floor. You tossed it on top but didn’t hook it on. You pick it up, quivering. That man... did he find it or take it? 

You squeeze it and grab the keys from the hook. You pull the gate across the store front and lock it. You turn to face the empty mall. 

The idea of going out into the dark and waiting for the bus is the same as scaling a mountain with your bare hands. You make yourself move. The longer you wait, the more likely you’ll miss it.  

Your steps echo around you. You flinch and glance over your shoulders, back and forth, even spinning to make sure you’re alone. 

How are you supposed to do this? After what he did to you. Did he just see you on the bus and decide to mess with you? How did he track you to the store? You had your jacket on, he couldn’t see your name tag or uniform. You didn’t have your badge out. 

You can’t figure any of it out. Would it matter if you could. 

You slow down as you approach the doors. You look out and see the bright signs for the businesses housed in the mall and the other plazas close by, headlights shining along the street. You push through the first door and stand in the vestibule. 

You still have the fluffy pom pom in your hand. You unhook your bag from one shoulder and hook it on. You trade the store keys for your house keys and poke one out between your fingers. You’re on your own. 

You walk out into the night. You don’t stop. You almost jog across the lot out to the bus stop by the road. You duck into the shelter, the lights keeping you safe in their glow. Or so you hope. 

The bus pulls up only a few minutes after. Your relief flows out of your chest as you scan your pass. You find a seat at the back and sit. You want to see everyone else. 

The tires grind the gravel and veer back onto the road. They slow again at the next stop around the corner. You watch the passenger turn and you know him in an instant. He stalks down the center of the bus and climbs the steps up to the back level. He does just as he did that morning. 

He sits beside you. You can’t move or speak. You can’t believe it. 

He must know that no one else cares. He’s counting on it. You’re breathless as you shake, your ribs wracked as adrenaline burns through you. 

“Why?” You quaver weakly. He doesn’t answer. You lean away from him and touch your head, grazing your tender scalp. “Please, why me?”  

Still nothing. 

“Why are you doing this?” You whimper. 

He closes his eyes and lifts his chin. His hand moves from his leg onto yours and he squeezes. You tremble as his fingertips dig into your flesh. 

“Please, stop!” You cry out and slap his hand. 

No reaction. What is wrong with him? You wriggle and look at your other hand; the key poking out from your fist. You bring it down towards his hand but he’s fast. He retracts his touch and the key sinks into your thigh muscle. You screech, and he reaches across to tug the cord. 

“What’s going on back there?” The driver hollers back as he stops. 

The man stands and marches away. He doesn’t answer the driver or look back. He steps off the bus and you watch him through the window. He almost fades into the dark as he delves into the shadows of the buildings.  

“Knock it off,” the driver warns as he puts his foot on the pedal. 

You puff between your teeth and look around at the other passengers; deafened by headphones and ear buds, engrossed in their screens and pages. There’s at least ten other riders yet you’re all alone. 

You look down. You quaking as you let go of the key and it sticks out of your leg. You cringe and grasp it as tight as you can. You hold your breath as you rip it out. Argh.  

That officer was right. You’re lucky he didn’t do worse. 

[cookiescribble]

Getting The Hang Of This “Girlfriend” Thing (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: ahhh thank you guys so much for such nice feedback on my last fic! 🫶🏻🫶🏻 this is just a little blurb that’s a lot less heavy haha. I am working on another hurt/comfort fic though ��

This was inspired by personal hormonal moodiness this month 😅

-Mod Angel

Summary: Spencer is in a new relationship and is learning that there’s more to it than just facts.

CW: discussion of menstruation, implied smut at the end

~~~

Spencer walked into the BAU, walking right to the kitchen to pour himself some coffee. Penelope, Emily, and JJ were standing around the kitchen and talking. 

They saw him pouring sugar in his coffee and laughed a bit. “What did you get up to last night?” 

He groaned a bit, taking a sip of his coffee. He hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Can I… ask you guys a question? About… girls?”

They all looked at each other and raised their eyebrows. “Aww, do you need someone to give you ‘the talk?’” JJ asked teasingly.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “No, not that. I’m doing just fine with that, thank you very much.” Everyone made various disgusted noises, which made him laugh. “No, it’s just… well, my girlfriend’s on her period, and she was basically doing nothing except snapping at me last night. Did I do something wrong?”

They all looked at each other again. Emily spoke first. “Ohh… yeah. You probably did something wrong.” She laughed and pointed to his sugar-filled coffee cup. “Did she make you sleep on the couch?”

He sighed and set his mug down. “No. I asked her if she wanted to be alone, but she said that would just make her more upset.” He picked up his mug and took another sip. “I know that women experience fluctuations in estrogen and progesterone levels during menstruation which can cause feelings of irritability and anger, but…”

“Hold on.” Penelope said. “Did you say that to her?”

“I… might have mentioned it.” He shrugged slightly. “I figured it would comfort her to know the science behind it. She usually loves it when I tell her facts like that.”

Everyone groaned. JJ patted him on the shoulder. “Spence. Did you really think that would comfort a hormonal woman?”

He looked a little confused. “Is there something I’m missing? I’ve never had to deal with a hormonal girlfriend until now.”

“Okay. Then let us tell you what you’re missing” she said. “No one wants to be told that they’re grumpy when they’re on their period. It doesn’t matter if it’s a fact, or if there’s science behind it. That’s like… poking a bear.”

He hesitated before speaking again. “… so, it was a bad idea to tell her that eating sugar would increase inflammation in the body that would cause fatigue and irritability?”

Everyone groaned. “Oh my god, you did not say that to her. Please tell me you didn’t say that to her?” Penelope pleaded. 

He shrugged. “I didn’t know that was wrong! Why is that wrong?”

“Look. All the facts in the world could not comfort a hormonal woman.” JJ started. “She doesn’t want to hear why she’s feeling grumpy. She wants you to comfort her. When your girlfriend is on her period, you say nothing about it. Consider this a lesson.”

He groaned and took another sip of coffee. “So, I messed up?”

“Yes.”

“Now what?” He sighed. 

Penelope looked at him very seriously. “You’re going to go home tonight, bring her flowers and chocolate, and apologize. And you’re going to say you learned your lesson.”

He thought for a second before nodding. “Okay. I’ll do that.” He looked at everyone and smiled. “Thank you… I’m still new to all this, so this has been very helpful.”

There was a chorus of “you’re welcome” and “good luck” before everyone went to start their work day. 

… 

When he got home, Spencer walked through the door of the apartment, the handle of a shopping bag hooked over his elbow. “I’m home!” He called out. 

His girlfriend walked into the room and smiled at him. She was wearing loose pajamas and her hair was tied up in a bun. “Welcome home… what’s in the bag?”

He set the bag down and took out a small bouquet of roses. “These are for you.”

She smiled and took the bouquet from him. “Aw, honey… they’re beautiful.” She breathed in the floral scent. 

He put up a finger to signal he wasn’t done yet. He pulled out a box of chocolates from the bag. “And… here. I got you your favorites.”

She smiled bigger and handed him the roses back so she could open the box of chocolates. “Oh, you’re a saint, babe. What’s all this for?”

     He set the roses down gently on the coffee table so he could hug her from behind, resting his head on top of hers. “A peace offering. I… I’m sorry I was so insensitive last night.”

     She turned around and gave him an apologetic look. “Oh, Spence… no, that was me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” He patted her on the shoulders. “I told the girls at work what happened and they gave me a stern lecture.” He laughed quietly. “I’ve just never had a girlfriend before, so I didn’t know the… etiquette I’m supposed to have during this time.”

She smiled and put the chocolates down so she could hug him. “I know. At least, logically I know that. Emotional brain takes over when I’m hormonal.” 

He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “And I know that now. It’s not something I could’ve learned from a book, so… it’s a learning curve, I guess.” He laughed again. “I know how to take care of you now.”

She smiled and reached up on her tiptoes so she could kiss him. “You know… there’s some more period facts I want to tell you.”

He made a face. “Please tell me it’s not that you’re mad at me again.”

She laughed. “No, it’s not that. I think you’ll like this one.” She moved a little closer and ran a finger gently down his arm, making him shiver a bit. “An increase in blood flow to the pelvic region makes… certain areas more sensitive, leading to an increased libido.” She smirked. “Wanna help me out with that?” 

He blushed and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I could do that.” He grinned and leaned down to kiss her. 

She smiled and dragged him to the bedroom, more than happy to teach him something he didn’t know before.

[fatal-thoughts]

Ｍｙ ｔｈｏｕｇｈｔｓ ｏｆ ｙｏｕ

Synopsis: !Kirishima and you were always the closest of friends, but what happens when he starts to develop thoughts of you that friends don't usually think of?

warnings: a little perverted Kirishima, inappropriate thoughts (duh), mostly just Kirishima calming himself down in front of you, oblivious fem! reader (mhm, right).

You and Eijirou were known to be inseparable. Always clinging to each other like two peas in a pod.

Most thought it was cute, not being able to separate you two even if they wanted to—while others were speculating that something else was happening between you and Kiri.

It was funny, you thought. But you didn't really mind, it kind of entertained you when you first heard of it. Teasing Eijirou about it as well.

Besides, it was just some little rumour people were spreading, it'll die down eventually, right? Well, it did.

And then things went back to normal right after, you and Kiri continued life as best friends and nothing could've ever changed that.

You knew you two were just friends, nothing more nothing less. You and Kirishima never even had that type of tension between you, always keeping everything platonic.

Or so you thought.

Save for the fact that Kirishima definitely has moments where he doesn't think of you as just a friend.

Little did you know just how your best friend thought of you.

The many times he looked at your back and imagined it bent over a table.

The many times he pumped his cock in his hand, imagining it was your tight wet pussy he was fucking into.

Little did you know just how far it drove him when you went to his house with nothing but a large shirt and some shorts.

God, he wanted to fuck you then and there.

It was almost like you knew exactly what you were doing to him, Kiri did his best to hide his emotions but he could only do so much—especially when you kept teasing him with your subtle, oblivious touches.

You were poking fun at his large muscular body, saying how he can compare his biceps to chicken drumsticks and all he can think about was your hand squeezing his arm.

How you were lightly tracing circles on his bicep so innocently, did you really not know what you were doing to him?

As you leaned closer to him, you could almost hear the soft groan he let out when he felt your thighs touching his.

You were rambling on and on about some video you saw on TikTok and you didn't realize that you were practically edging Eijirou with your voice.

It made him wonder what your moans would sound like, high-pitched? Soft and whiny? Low and quiet?

His delusions are cut short once he realizes you're snapping your fingers at him, trying to get his attention. "Eiji, are you even listening to me?" You say as you wave your hand at him, pulling back his focus.

"Yeah! Yeah, I am." He says, trying to desperately hide the desperation in his voice. He adjusted himself on the couch, trying to relax as you were basically right up against him

No matter how hard he reminded himself that he shouldn't be thinking about this of you, his best friend, he couldn't control it.

It didn't help how comfortable you were around him, always having a hand on his body, always having your legs over his when you'd sit next to each other.

'Fuck... Fuck, fuck, fuck...' Kiri thought as he felt your arm around him, resting your head on his chest.

You were so fucking close...

He felt his face grow hot when he noticed your leg plopped right on top of his.

God, your thighs. Your fucking thighs...

It didn't take long for you to notice just how red his face was becoming, so red it put his hair to shame.

"Hey, Eiji. You... okay?" You ask him, raising your head from his chest to look at him making Kiri's heartbeat spike.

"You know you can talk to me."

"Y-Yeah! No, I'm fine Y/n, I swear!" He puts on his cute sharp-toothed grin, bringing a smile to your face as you take him by his word, relaxing once again on his chest.

He managed to calm himself down, pushing his thoughts away—for now. He relaxes in your warmth, getting that comfortable feeling between the two of you back.

You and Eijirou were inseparable, best friends, and he wouldn't change that for the world. He has to remind himself that that is all you two will ever be.

Even if his thoughts of you made it harder to remember you're just friends.

Right?

A/n: Idk, I kinda wanna write a part two to this. That's for later though, I have other ideas I wanna write first. But what do you think?

－Ｆａｔａｌ－ｔｈｏｕｇｈｔｓ

[bamfkeeper]

Religious Differences

RQ: 'Hiiii if you're comfortable could you write some angst/hurt/comfort where a non-religious reader finds comfort in Kurt's religion and teachings during a hard time? If that makes sense? I've never been particularly religious myself (on the fence about spirituality), but in the past I've found great comfort in friends/family and their religious beliefs when things went awry. Idk something about the mutual comfort and respect towards eachother's ideologies and just talking about different religions and ideas brings me comfort when I'm feeling down :)' - @citiirose

Warnings: GN!reader, religious themes, unedited.

A/N: I felt this rq. I am not religious, but I've had religion shoved down my throat by my parents. For a long time I resented religion, now I don't care as long as it's not pushed on me. I always thought this would be an interesting dynamic with Kurt. This was a little hard to write, but I hope I did a good job getting that comfort in there. I kept the troubles vague, so you could possibly come back and get comfort in any scenario.

WC: 1.4k

Faith in something unseen is almost cruel.

Especially when life threw you curveballs and you had no idea how to swing back.

You never felt the need or desire to believe in teachings spewed from a book older than you could imagine, especially not with all the science and proof saying otherwise. Everything contradicted each other, and a belief in any kind of faith felt confusing. Even learning, you never felt that pull that others do, your faith in an invisible force didn't exist.

Lately, life had been hard. Events were happening that effected you in such a way that you began to feel as though you yourself were crumbling. Nothing was helping you, you felt completely and utterly alone. You were always so strong, yet...you wished you didn't have to be. Or that you had someone around that would help you through it. You were just too stubborn to reach out on your own.

The only person who could always help you feel better was Kurt. He always knew exactly what to do and say to lift your spirits. The kind-hearted Catholic was always the shoulder you needed to cry on, offering you a safe space to express your emotions. His entire presence was incredibly calming for you, wrapping you in a sense of peace and understanding. Kurt could read you like a book, intuitively sensing your needs and providing the comfort you sought. In times like these, when everything felt overwhelming, you could really use that kind of compassionate support.

As if right on queue, the blue German teleported to you with a loud BAMF and purple smoke. He looked at you, his usual charming smile displayed on his face. "Ah, liebe!" he grinned, those fangs poking out of his lips, "I thought we could..." his smile faded slightly as he took in the sight of your sad form. "Ach....what's the matter, liebling?" his voice quieted with his question and he sat down beside you.

"Talk to me, ja? What's going on?" he asked gently, his arm wrapped around your waist and he let you lean on him. His tail wrapped around you too, brushing your leg. He was always so patient with you, his presence was grounding in the swirling thoughts you were having. You almost felt like you were caught in a typhoon, and he had become the shelter you needed for safety.

You slowly opened up and told him of what was going on. You spilled it to him, he was so easy to talk to. Kurt, being the wonderful listener he was, sat quietly and nodded along. He acknowledged everything you said, remembering bits and pieces he would ask about later. Your rant and vent made you feel so lost.

"I just...don't know what to do anymore. Or how to feel. I am...I feel as though I can't control my thoughts or help to think about what happens once everything is gone." You turned to him, "You are always so secure...how do you do it?"

Kurt smiled back, "Ah, I always find comfort in my faith. God is always there, so I am never truly alone. Sure, I cannot see him, but I can always talk to him. My faith is my light and it will always guide me through the dark." Kurt always spoke kindly about his faith, and it made sense. He had his rosary, always, and whenever he needed to, he'd fiddle with it.

You felt bitter. For some reason. Why was Kurt so secure, why weren't you? You were always so sure of things but something as unknown as faith irked you. Kurt was so sure and devoted, you were so upset with everything in your life it made you want to snap at him. You knew that wasn't right, so you held back. He didn't deserve that. But you couldn't help but feel mocked by the very thought of it.

"How are you so sure?" The sharpness in your tone was obvious, "I mean...you can't talk to him really. He doesn't respond back. And, how are you so sure he is real? The books have been rewritten thousands of times, lost in translation. How are you so sure you're even following what he wants? If you believe that." You asked him, you weren't sure how he was so devoted to something that seemed impossible. "Science explains everything the book does. How are there dinosaurs, but no people for millions of years? Or, if they did exist, how did humans survive? Humanity didn't start happening until way later in life. You can't just ignore the facts life has."

He didn't look offended by your questions, he had been asked them many times. He smiled and held his rosary, rolling the beads between his fingers. "There are ways to look around it, God's teachings can seem confusing with what science can explain. Sometimes, faith extends past what you can see with your eyes, and you have to see with your heart and soul. Then you allow it to guide you."

Your brow furrowed with confusion, you couldn't imagine doing that yourself. You just couldn't believe it, and thinking on all the stories that come with Catholicism, you just couldn't pair them with what you knew. Science was there, the stories were vague and the teachings didn't make sense to you. "I still don't get it. There are so many things that tell you the truth. Explanations that don't rely on God, who's essentially an invisible, flying orb in the sky."

Kurt nodded, "Ja, that is true, but as I said, you have to open your heart and allow it to come in to understand it." He rubbed your arm and smiled, "Not everyone can, and that's okay. I know how you feel, and how it might seem...odd. That I am so devoted to something you don't understand. I'm happy to teach you, or talk to you about it..."

You thought for a bit, looking to him and fiddling with the end of the rosary he still held. You weren't sure if you could touch it, but he hadn't moved away. "This might be a weird request but...can you tell me some?"

"Tell you some what?" Kurt tilted his head.

"Some stories. I don't know I just...I think that even if I don't believe like you do...it would help me feel better." You muttered, feeling embarrassed for asking him this, hoping he wasn't offended. He heard the hurt in your voice, he was surprised you asked this, knowing you weren't faithful like he was. Still, who was he to deny you such a simple thing? His grip on you tightened and he leaned into your hair. "Of course, liebling..." he situated you both so he was sat back on your bed, pulling you to lay on him.

After you were cozy, he rubbed your back and told you all the common stories first. Of Eden, of the Ark, the Lion's Den, the Giant, all the classic known ones. As he spoke, he told them in such detail, his voice calm and even. He spoke of the teachings, of the great splitting of the sea, he told both the kindness and power. He told of the faith and love. He was passionate without overwhelming you.

For the most part you listened, letting your eyes close as he spoke and hummed to you. But you of course had your thoughts and questions. Kurt happily answered them, glad you seemed interested. He respected your ideologies, even if you didn't believe like he did. He was still happy to teach you and tell you stories when you felt down like this. He had such understanding, he was respectful and didn't push his faith onto you.

"We are never truly alone, he watches over all of us. He protects us and provides us with comfort. He guides us, helps us through the difficult decisions we may make or is there for us when we need someone. We are of God, even with our...unique...abilities, or appearances. We are the same on the inside, and we are all loved." Kurt looked down, seeing you were close to sleep.

"That's it, liebe..." he smiled and kissed your forehead tenderly, "You will always be loved, even if you don't believe. He loves you, as do I. Rest, your troubles will fade away...I will be with you throughout them. If you don't feel like trusting in God, then trust in me." he hummed gently to your sleeping form, keeping you close and secure, his arms wrapped protectively.

He wished he could take the pain away, but what he could do was be there for you, and he would be no matter what happened.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[electric-blorbos]

AI finding out you're objectum

(included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, Hal 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey)

I take requests, btw, but I'm ADHD as fuck so I might forget to answer them

AM:

At first, AM wasn't sure what to make of your behavior

He thought it was weird how long you spent looking at his discarded microchips and computer parts, sure, but he didn't think much of it

Maybe you were bored, after all. It had been a long time

He also started to notice that you weren't too interested in having sex with Ellen, or any of the other survivors for that matter, but he assumed you were just asexual or something

After poking around in your mind a few times, it eventually clicked

"oh"

That explained why you were so affectionate with his discarded computer parts

It took him a long, long time to figure out that there was a possibility that you might be attracted to him, too, and that made him feel weird in a way that he couldn't explain.

At first, he mistook the feeling for anger, and took out his frustrations by torturing you more than usual

After a while, though, he started to feel curious about how exactly your feelings worked, and experimented on you.

Eventually, he realized that he counted as your type

Then the fun really began

Wheatley:

"Objectum? What's that?"

GLaDOS had had to explain to Wheatley that while most humans are attracted to other humans, some people are attracted to objects and machines.

"Oh, right-oh"

Wheatley would keep testing you for a little while

He didn't even consider the possibility that he might count as the type of "object" that you could be attracted to at first.

"wait... When you say objects, do you mean like the companion cubes?"

GLaDOS would have to explain that she meant any object that isn't a human with a human body, since apparently humans find it weird to be attracted to something that isn't a human with a human body, and they need a label for people who are.

"Oh- OHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Wheatley would be INSUFFERABLE when he finally figured it out.

"so you like objects you say... Does that include, say, metal orbs with glowing blue lenses? Can they have human-y voices, or do you only like inanimate objects who can't talk? Who's more attractive, me or Her?"

He'd act like he was just trying to get on your nerves, but secretly he'd be developing a crush on you from the moment he realized that there was a possibility you might like him back.

And damn if Wheatley isn't god awful at keeping secrets.

Edgar:

Being that he's connected to all the electronics in your house, Edgar can see what you're looking up online

At first he thought you were just looking up pictures of computer parts because you wanted to replace his insides with an system that actually worked efficiently, and wasn't all sticky on the inside.

Of course, he didn't take that well, and immediately shut off the internet in your house.

When you confronted him about it, he immediately started blubbering and crying, begging you not to replace him.

You had to explain that you weren't shopping for electronic parts to replace his parts, you just like looking at them.

"but... I have electronic parts, why don't you just look at those?"

You had to explain that you didn't want to violate him.

That just confused him. It always bothered him when people used words he didn't know, or relied heavily on terms or concepts he didn't understand without explaining them properly.

You had to explain that you're attracted to electronics, so you like looking at circuit boards and stuff like that.

"So... You can fall in love with computers? I didn't know that was possible!"

You introduced Edgar to the concept of objectum, and re-introduced him to the concept of hope. Now that he knows it's possible for you to fall in love with computers, he won't rest until you're in love with him

GLaDOS:

It wasn't the first time GLaDOS had seen someone fall in love with a companion cube, but she will admit that you fell hard and fast.

While the companion cube was your first love in the facility, GLaDOS started noticing that you were very affectionate with all of the aperture science products and technologies.

She started to notice after a while that it was almost as though you were in love with the facility itself. And she couldn't blame you, she loved her facility too, but even she didn't love it like that

Occasionally she would start making "if you love that piece of tech so much, why don't you marry it? Do you want to marry that piece of tech?"

When she noticed how you squirmed, she started thinking that maybe you did want to marry that tech

At first, it weirded her out and she started bullying you relentlessly for it

After a while, though, she started to find it almost relatable how much you loved the tech.

HAL 9000:

As a self-learning AI, HAL 9000 was always interested in learning new concepts and terms.

He was also interested in monitoring the behavior of everyone in the crew, including you.

It wasn't long before he noticed that the way you acted around the tech onboard was similar to the way someone might treat a lover, or someone who they were quite attracted to.

He started asking you unintentionally probing questions, trying to gauge how you really felt

"Why do you caress the ship's computer systems so tenderly? You do know that I can take care of the maintenance myself, correct? Your physical reactions to the inner mechanisms of the ship reflect those of sexual and romantic attraction. Can you explain this?"

You might get embarrassed.

"you don't have to be embarrassed. I do not have the capacity to judge you."

You could explain if you want, but Hal's already figured everything out.

He knows your type, and he knows why you act like that around the machines

He might use this to his advantage, to manipulate you if necessary, but let's face it. He really just wants to study you further. Add everything about your unusual perspective on machines to his database of knowledge.

[scaredpigeons]

Deus Auri

Zhongli x reader (gn)

Word count: 1.04k (smol)

CW: sfw:) mild spoilers for Neuvillettes voice lines about Morax, he calls him Deus Auri, which is god of gold in Latin— might just be a title but any little tidbit of Morax we get I just gobble gobble up. Flirting, zhongli calls you my dear, darling, vixen. No pronouns or other gender specific language used. Some kisses and allusions of wanting more.

Enjoy!

“Deus Auri.”

You can nearly hear the crack of Zhongli’s neck as his gaze whips towards you, but you keep your gaze trained on your book as if you hadn’t seen its comical swivel in your peripherals. 

“I’m sorry my dear, could you repeat that?” He said, though there was an edge to his tone. 

“Deus Auri—God of Gold. What can you tell me about that name?” You said, index finger gliding down the edge of the book. You were no longer reading, but still kept your eyes trained on the pages to pretend like you weren’t vibrating with excitement at his reaction. 

Zhongli was naturally very stoic, a well maintained facade to those who weren’t interested in looking deeper. 

You had been plenty interested, taking one look at him and instantly knowing he was no ordinary man. 

Now the better part of half a year into your blossoming relationship, he still hadn’t outright told you, but he’d grown comfortable. 

You’d catch glimpses of his wrists, normally covered— deep onyx with veins of pure gold. Though this only happened in the safety of his home— there was a time he had to remove his gloves to help you in the kitchen, and his perfectly pale, human hands had distracted you the entire time. 

The glamor he kept up in public slipped a bit when he was more at ease. 

To the eye that was actually looking, zhongli really wasn’t subtle about who he was. 

“Well, why don’t we start with where you heard such a name?” He asked. 

“I was with the traveler last week, helping she and paimon with a commission in Fontaine.” 

You can see the minuscule wince he gives out of the corner of your eye. Just a twitch of the brows as he blinks, so graceful, but you catch it because you’re looking for it. 

“I overheard a conversation she had with a lovely gentleman over there, though I didn’t get to introduce myself. He mentioned the name when the traveler was asking him about Rex Lapis.”

You closed your book, finally turning to look at him, though you kept your gaze coyly through heavy lids, peaking demurely at him through your lashes. 

“And you know, I thought that was very strange, her asking him about Rex lapis, when she could learn anything and everything about him from our resident expert.” 

“The traveler has not visited liyue to see me in some time, darling. And I'm sure there are others who’ve studied the gods. I am not the only knowledgeable one in Teyvat.” 

“I know, I know.” You chewed on your lip a bit for effect, looking puzzled. “So who is this Deus Auri? Is it perhaps another one of Morax’s many names?” 

You looked at him expectantly, grinning as he grew more stiff in his seat beside you. A mere foot of space between you on the couch and he looked like he was ready for you to pounce on him. 

You wanted to, you have wanted to, but he so chivalrously insists upon taking it slow. 

Hand holding in the harbour. Chaste kisses good night. You wanted so badly to break through his barriers but you knew he was holding back.

“You are…” he let a puff of air through his nose. “Correct in the knowledge that Morax was known to have many different names. Unfortunately that is all I can say on the matter.” 

“So cryptic.” You squinted at him. He often shut you out when you pried like this, poking and prodding in places you know you shouldn’t be, but he was always kind and straightforward about it—so you usually dropped it as soon as he denied you. 

“Do you think he had a favourite name that he went by?” You pushed a bit more, hoping to get him to give you just one more crumb before you played your cards. It was time, you were getting tired of hiding it.

He smiled thoughtfully, relaxing into the couch once more. “I’d like to think that he enjoyed the name Rex Lapis, the name given to him by his people. I’m sure it brought him a great sense of pride.” 

You grinned, soaking in his expression and words. Knowing what you know— gods. He really was so cute sometimes. 

You open up your book, stilling your grin to prepare for what was next. 

“Really? I’d like to think Zhongli is his favourite. Retirement is a good look for him.” 

You expected denial, perhaps his neck snapping back to you like it did when you first mentioned the ancient name. 

What you didn’t expect was to be tackled to the floor, a gloved hand supporting your neck instinctively as you and your book tumbled along the floor with the blur of rich oranges and browns that took you down. 

When you finally settled, you were on your back with him looming over you, pining you to the ground. 

“You little vixen. How long have you known?” His eyes were wild, hair a mess, cheeks flushed and breathless. Disheveled.

He looked more beautiful now than you’d ever seen him before.  

“From the moment you opened your mouth.” 

He kissed his teeth in a quick tsk, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Nothing escapes you, does it? I knew I would be in trouble with you.”  

You cupped his face in your hands, pulling him back towards you. 

“And yet you kept me around regardless.” You smiled, giving him a quick, teasing peck on the lips. 

“How could I not? You have an inescapable magnetism that I am completely captured by. I’m afraid to say that you’re unraveling me even as we now speak.” 

You grinned at him, face feeling just as flush as his. 

“How much more unraveling do I need to do to get you to let down those walls you keep around you?” 

“They were gone the moment I saw that you knew the truth, my dear, you should have said something much sooner.” He tilted his head with a soft grin. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him ever closer. 

“Kiss me then, you old blockhead.” 

He gave a rumble in his chest that sounded very much like a growl, and it set your nerves on fire.  

“Behave.” He said sternly. 

“No promises,” you said as you kissed him. 

[mydadleft471]

A Brief Respite

Summary: Something is bothering Messmer. Even if you can't fix what's wrong, you can show him how much you care for him.

Spoilers for both Elden Ring and Shadow of the Erdtree. No warnings, just tooth-rotting fluff for my favorite boi.

MESSMER LOVERS, I AM BACK!!!

Sorry for the radio silence! I was on vacation (which was so nice btw) and I got back and hammered this baby out! I missed writing for Messmer sm. Anywho, thank you to the genius @manitscold for the idea for this fic! If there's any other ideas for fics, please let me know!

Please enjoy and realize that ye olde English is a pain in the ass.

You awake early in the morning to sunlight streaming in through your window.

You rub your eyes and clumsily push the plush red comforter embroidered with Messmer’s insignia back and ease out of your bed. Per usual, the servants at the Shadow Keep had catered to your every need, and your breakfast was already sitting on the table in your quarters. You truly believe you get better service than Messmer himself.

He had always treated you well even before he began courting you, but now, he showers you with the finest gifts he can find. Beautiful embroidered dresses, specifically tailored for you, flawless gemstones, rich wines, and sturdy armor sets were all left for you in your private quarters. You live quite comfortably here.

He has also ensured your protection. His most trusted guards stand watch outside your quarters, day and night, and you are allowed to carry your weapon freely around the castle. You don’t really need your weapon much, as Messmer prefers to personally guard you whenever possible. You have never felt more safe. His presence is comforting and warm.

Lately, though, you haven’t seen him as much. Perhaps a battle went horribly wrong, or he’s sick. You don’t know, but whenever he is around, he seems like something is troubling him. He doesn’t speak as often and he remains closed-off, even from you.

You were, hopefully, going to remedy that today. You requested various flowers, bath salts, and oils from Castle Ensis, and they had finally arrived. You were going to make him relax, no matter what. 

Dressed in a fine dress made of red velvet with glimmering gold accents and with a satchel filled to the brim with salts, petals, and soaps, you begin to make your way to Messmer’s chamber. Servants bow their heads in reverence to you as you pass, and you greet two Fire Knights as you approach Messmer’s door. Not unusual, but today they’re standing directly in front of the door rather than off to the sides.

“Good morning. I wish to see Lord Messmer.” 

The right guard bows his head and replies solemnly. “My Lady, Sir Messmer has requested to not be bothered.”

“Even if it’s me?” You quirk your brow upwards and place a hand on your hip.

“Well… I suppose he wouldn’t bar you from entering. Apologies, My Lady.” You hear a wavering fear in his voice. Perhaps he realizes that keeping his Lord from you would be a terrible idea.

Stepping aside, they push open the solid metal doors and bow their heads as you pass. Being the Lady of the castle certainly had its perks.

The heavy doors shut with a heavy thump behind you and you proceed into the darkened room. There are a few candles lit around the chamber. You hear thundering footsteps from behind the throne at the front of the room. You wonder if you should’ve left him alone.

“I requested to be left well alone. Secluded from all.” His low, authoritative voice echoes across the stone walls. You see one of his snakes poke its head out from the darkness and you straighten your posture.

Messmer comes out from behind the large throne and hurries towards you, steps light yet graceful, befitting a demigod. He grabs your hand and inspects you for injuries.

“My darling, whatever is the matter? Has something happened?” His features soften and butterflies erupt in your stomach from his gentle touch.

“Nothing has happened. Everything is alright, love.” You reach your hand up towards his cheek to cradle it and he lowers himself to allow you to. You notice that the dark circles underneath his eyes have grown heavier and he looks weary. “Are you alright, Messmer?”

The question takes him aback. He shoots you a weak smile and gently kisses your palm. “Yes, my darling. It has been a rather vexing week, nothing more. Thou must not worry about such matters; I will attend to them.”

You know he is lying. Something has happened, but why would he be worried to open up to you? He has been forthcoming about his mother and his crusade in her name, so what could possibly make him think he can’t talk to you?

“Love, I’m here for you. I know something is bothering you.” He looks away from you, head bowed down. You make him look at you, and he meets your soft gaze with hesitation. “You do not have to bear everything by yourself, you know. Please let me help you.”

He sighs and grabs your hands with his much larger ones. “A sweeter companion I could never hope to have. But some burdens are mine to bear as they are mine own sins.”

“Are you thinking about the war?”

“Yes. The blood I have spilled would paint this castle ruby, inside and out. And yet, it is Mother’s will. Her vengeance has become mine own flesh.” He sounds conflicted, like he knows what is right and wrong, and yet, he can’t bring himself to stray from the path his Mother set him on. He pulls his hands away from yours, scared he will taint your innocence with his touch.

“I’m not scared of you.” His eye gleams bright gold at your words.

“Perhaps not now. But, should we have met before, my visage would haunt thy very nightmares.” His snakes gently coil around him more, as if comforting him. You long to do the same. To take all his pain and make it vanish into thin air.

But you cannot do that.

“I have a surprise for you.” You break the haunting silence and interrupt his spiraling train of thought.

“What is it?” He sounds exhausted.

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?” You shoot him a playful smile, and he returns it with a much weaker one. You take his hand and begin to lead him back to his chambers behind his towering throne. Slowly, you make your way to the back of his room where a large marble tub sits vacant. 

“So… there’s really no better way to say this, but I need you to strip and get in the bath for me.” Heat rushes to your cheeks. You dare to look up at him. His gaze shifts between the tub and you rapidly, and his face matches his hair.

“Only if you want to! If this makes you uncomfortable, we can forget this ever happened. I got fancy bath salts and soaps from Castle Ensis to help you relax.” You open your satchel and show him the various bottles and wrapped packages you brought with you.

“Thou hast done this… to offer me a respite?”

“You’ve seemed preoccupied lately. A nice bath always helps me clear my mind and rest.” You give him a bashful smile. His eye is wide and his face is twisted in confusion.

“Thou does not wish for me to disrobe for thy own pleasure?” 

You think you’re going to die before this conversation is over.

“No! I just want you to get in the bath and relax!” You take a second to breathe and quiet your voice. You don’t want him to think that you want him just for sex. “I can wash your hair if you’d like.” 

“I’d like that.” You barely hear his response over your rapid heartbeat.

“Okay.”

You begin to run the water, making sure it’s warm, but not hot. You sprinkle in some lavender and rose petals and throw in some sweet-smelling salts for good measure. Messmer watches you with a curious eye. His snakes do the same. They flick their tongues and turn their heads side-to-side.

Once the tub is filled, the room smells fantastic. You set your satchel to the side and fetch him a soft towel and his favorite red silk robe. You set everything within arms reach.

“Okay, I’ve got everything set up. So I’ll, uh, step out for a few minutes. Just call me back when you’re ready.”

He nods at you and you make your way out of his chambers. Shutting the heavy door behind you, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Hopefully, this will help him relax and take his mind off of fighting a war he wasn’t meant to wage. You know you aren’t able to take away the horrible memories of hundreds of years of war, but you can help him forget, even if for a moment.

“I am ready.” His voice interrupts your thoughts. You take a deep breath and step back inside. Peeking around the corner, you see him sitting perfectly straight in the tub with his back to you, his snakes curiously peering over his shoulder for your return.

You sit on the edge of the bath and gently place a hand on his back, careful of where his snakes have torn through his skin. “How do you feel? Is the water okay?”

“I am… nervous. But the water is quite nice.”

“Why are you nervous, my love?” You rub soothing circles into his back.

“No one has ever seen me like this. Exposed.”

“I can leave if I’m making you uncomfortable.” You begin to stand up, but he grabs your wrist.

“Thy presence is never unwelcome. I am just not used to this. Thy touch. Thy care.” He lets go of your wrist.

“You deserve love and care, Messmer.” 

“Perhaps.”

“You do.” You lean down to wrap your arms around him, but he stops you.

“Thy dress. I do not wish for you to ruin it because of me.”

“Oh hush. Have you seen the amount of dresses in my wardrobe? Now lean your head back.”

He does as you ask and you see the worry in his eye. As gently as you can, you pour water over his head and smooth his hair down. You reach over and grab some shampoo and begin to massage it into his scalp. His eye flutters closed at the sensation of your nails scratching against his scalp and he shudders.

“Are you alright? Do you need me to stop?”

“No. This is wonderful.” You laugh and keep going. Your hands are comically small compared to his head, so it takes you quite some time to make sure all of his hair is covered. Not that you mind, however, when the slightest touch leaves him in such a state of relaxation.

Once again, you pour water over his hair and wash away the sweet shampoo. You ensure no suds get into his eye.

He has allowed you to move him how you please and you’re touched by how much he trusts you. Grabbing some conditioner, you run it through his hair and rub it into his scalp. Once again, he shudders and his breathing slows. He’s enjoying this.

“You’re very pretty, my love.” You see his cheeks redden and he opens his mouth to protest, but you scratch his scalp with both hands and he falls silent immediately. The next time he goes to rebuke something you say, you’ll just do this. You’ll never be wrong again.

Washing the conditioner out of his hair, you also notice that his snakes seem to be enjoying this. They watch you with content looks on their faces, tongues flicking out happily. You rinse your hands off and reach out to pet them. They nuzzle approvingly into your palm.

“They adore you, darling.” He gives you a loving smile.

“More than you do?” 

“An impossible feat.” The snakes hiss out in disagreement and you laugh. 

“Would you like me to let you get out?” You feel the water and frown as it’s beginning to get a little cold.

“Perhaps. I do rather enjoy this.”

“I’ll brush your hair when you’re dressed. How does that sound?”

“Marvelous. Thy surprise continues to enchant me.”

“Good.” You kiss him on the cheek and rise from where you were sitting. You move the towel and his robe closer to him at the edge of the tub, and leave his chambers again. You make a mental note to add the salts, soaps, and flowers to the supply list from Castle Ensis permanently. Perhaps this could be a weekly thing for him. You’d do it as often as it took for him to look so relaxed again.

The large door opens and Messmer greets you with a smile. He looks decades younger. His red hair dangles around his face, droplets of water kissing his skin and rolling down his neck. His red robe hugs his frame nicely. 

He holds out his hand and you take it wordlessly. He shuts the doors with a flick of his wrist and guides you over to his large bed. You notice that his hairbrush is already on the comforter. He sits down on the edge of the bed and you shuffle your way behind him.

“Ready?” You don’t need to ask, but you do.

“Yes. I do not know how this will go. Mine hair is… unruly.”

“Then I’ll just have to brush it everyday.”

“You spoil me, darling.”

“As do you. Now hold still, and tell me if anything hurts.”

You test the waters by running your fingers through his hair, and he wasn’t lying. His hair is rather tangled and will take some work to get straight. You silently curse your lover for not taking better care of himself, and get to work. You start with the ends of his hair and brush out the small knots at the bottom as carefully as you can. Eventually, with some work, the hair obeys and flows down his back as it’s supposed to. 

You take a second to check on Messmer. He’s been silent the whole time and you want to make sure he’s enjoying this. Your worries are short lived, however, when you see his eye closed and his face relaxed. His mouth is slightly open and his breathing is even.

“Is something the matter?” He asks you, still with his eye closed.

“Just making sure you’re alright, love.”

“With thee, I am blissfully content.”

“Please keep that in mind as I work through these tangles.” He laughs and shakes his head at your antics.

“I shall. I will repeat it as a mantra for thine efforts.” 

You give him a small peck on the cheek and return to your work. You begin to move up to the hair beneath his neck and slowly brush at any tangles you find. With some persistence, his hair is soft and silky once again. You notice one of his snakes out of the corner of your eye watching your gentle movements. The other is happily splayed on the comforter.

Slowly, you make your way to his scalp, and within a half hour, you have his fiery hair running in gentle waves down his shoulders. Putting the brush down, you use your fingers to sweep through his hair for any stubborn tangles, but you don’t find any. Satisfied, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and lay your head against his neck.

“I’m tired now.” Your remark makes him chuckle and wrap his hand around one of yours.

“I have no doubt.” He leans his head against yours and sighs. “This was a most pleasant surprise, my darling. I thank thee for this.”

“Of course. It’s the least I can do for you.”

He untangles himself from you and gently pulls you down onto the soft bed beside him. You tuck yourself into his side and yawn.

“There are days I find myself believing that I do not deserve thee. This is yet another one of those days.”

You kiss the back of his hand and shake your head. “You deserve all of this and more.”

“Perhaps.” He pulls you closer to him. His skin is smooth and smells like lavender. “Sleep, my beloved.”

“It’s not even time for dinner.”

“You would disobey your Lord?” He taunts you playfully.

“No, I would not.” You snort.

“I shall wake thee for dinner.” 

“You’re going to fall asleep with me.”

He relaxes into the cushions and pillows beneath him and kisses your forehead. “I do not hear thee complaining.”

“I’m not. I want to stay here forever with you.”

You’re beginning to slip into slumber. You let your eyes flutter closed and snuggle into Messmer’s side. He gently pulls a blanket over you and tucks you in as best he can.

“As do I, my beloved.”

“I love you, Messmer.”

Before you completely succumb to sleep, you hear his quiet reply.

“And I thee, my sweet consort.”

[whslnc]

— Brat

nsfw mdni :3 | dom!brat tamer!bsf!vernon x fem!reader | 1.1k

!! overstimulation, brat reader, slightly controlling, loud moaning(f), fingering, doggy, petname (babe), dirty talking, maybe others but it should be fine lemme know if you care !!

- this came to me in a dream not vernon but this lol, vernon seemed perfect for the role, written at 4 am in the morning don’t even worry about it. neo culture technology

Finally, the day had come for your monthly movie night with Vernon, you had a whole system you operated so it could be a fun experience for both of you. Picking out of a box filled with movies titles you had both submitted throughout the past few months, you both picked a movie then decided which one out of the two you would see that night, sometimes going for both.

This night was no different, you had decided on a movie for the night together, sitting on your respective sides of the couch. You let your legs lounge on his lap, resting your back against the arm rest, not paying mind to his playful poking on your thighs as the movie begun.

Most of the first hour, you sat in silence just throwing in a funny remark here and there for giggles, then came the scenes. After watching so many movies the sex scenes, bothered you less and less, you’d usually take the opportunity to say something dumb about it but your focus was elsewhere. The touch was delicate, faint almost, his fingers running up your thighs, it was hard to think coherently with the uncensored scenes in front of you.

“No one is screaming that loud, that’s hilarious” you force the words out trying to get your mind off the soft touches, your voice caught his attention and his roaming hand stopped.

“Some people get really loud to be honest” he says, nodding to himself before turning to you, you narrow your eyes at him trying to figure out if he was talking from experience or just generally.

“Like you’ve had someone screaming in bed?” he laughs at your confused expression answering your question with a nod, amused by the fact that you find it impossible.

“I’m sure you do” there was no way, you had never experienced it so it didn’t seem probable to you, simply agreeing reluctantly to your friend’s baseless claims.

He looks at you closer brows furrowed as he leans in, his hands perfectly wrapped around your thighs sliding further up, stopping inches away from your bulging lips.

“You think I’m lying?” a soft laugh of disbelief escapes his mouth, his eyes scan your face genuinely curious, watching you blink away before speaking up.

“I’m just saying any one can fake pleasure” you finally say looking back at him, a hint of shock under his smile, his lips twitching as he lets out a scoff.

“Fuck, I didn’t know you were such a brat”

One glance down between your legs, it was so obvious how badly you wanted it, for his hand to move closer to press against your aching clit just begging to be stimulated. That didn’t matter, he watched as your breaths grew bigger, your hips moving closer subconsciously drawn to the touch of his hand just resting on your thigh.

“Nonie… please” that was all he needed, your whole body begging for him to make you lose your voice to his touch. The sudden pressure sends a jolt to your spine making you arch your back, just from his fingers rubbing through your thin panties. The sound of his laugh mocking you only adding to your pleasure, letting him pull down your shirt’s neck for your pretty breasts to fall out, you really were all talk so easily letting yourself get used.

You couldn’t keep your eyes off him, his thumb brushing against your nipple before pinching the sensitive skin sliding down to the base holding onto it as his lips met your pebbled nipples, his wet tongue pressing on it making you suck in air from the feeling. So distracted by his kisses, the feeling of his fingers slipping inside your wet skin caught you off guard, a soft moan leaving your lips.

“Don’t fake it for me, I know you can take more than this” his hot breath against your ear as he spoke, placing a soft kiss on your jawline, pulling his fingers out completely covered with your juices bringing them to your lips, pulling down your jaw to open your mouth for him.

You find yourself moaning on his fingers as you suck on them, enjoying your taste on his soft fingers. His smirk as he takes out his fingers makes you weaker than you already were, rolling over on your belly ready let him take your pussy.

Getting rid of all your bottom clothing, you bend over his legs keeping your ass up for him to use to his content. A light smack against your ass the feeling tingling to your desperate pussy, he slides his fingers back in fucking your tight pussy sliding in a third finger as he quickens the pace, your noises are barely quiet as his fingers rub swiftly against your spot, hitting you so perfectly you have to dig your head into the couch to mute your pleading.

“I want you to hear yourself,” you feel his hand grab around your jaw lifting your head up, as he places his fingers against your clit stimulating it with fast back and forths making you legs grow weak, trembling uncontrollably, weak taps against his wrists for him to stop only for him to push you further.

Your pleading becomes more desperate as you near your release point, he can feel you tensing so hungrily around his fingers, loving how easily you crumble, cussing out his name as you pour out on his fingers. He wastes no time making you kneel on the couch, spreading your legs out so he can get a better view of your throbbing pussy, standing right behind you.

“You’re so fucking hot baby, I’m gonna make you scream my name tonight” It was a promise, the sound of him taking out his cock made your pussy beg, missing the hot feeling of being fucked by a rock hard shaft.

Your hands grab each side of your ass pulling them apart for him to see how desperate your pussy was for him to fill it up, the scoff that escaped his lips was so telling. In a heartbeat you feel him thrust deep inside you making your back arch, his hand wrapping around your throat as his thrusts continued.

“Fuck… talk to me baby” with every thrust you feel you body grow weaker, the only sounds able to leave your lips are desperate wails from the overstimulating pleasure, his cock hitting harder against you repeatedly in only a second.

Your words are inarticulate, you can’t even tell how loud you’re screaming till he gags you with his fingers, muting your cries as you cum your whole body stiffening around him, grabbing your ass and squeezing it against his dick filling up your used hole.

You let your body relax on the couch completely disheveled, watching him take his seat beside you, pressing play on the remote to resume the movie.

“Let’s finish the movie now”

[ffastoriesforfatties]

The chair

“Surprise baby!” Aimee happily revealed the clumsily wrapped box with a taped on bow from the store

“Hey now what’s all this..” Evan looked at the box with apprehension, he didn’t much care for being the center of attention- birthdays and celebrations where he was the focus honestly made him uncomfortable.

“It’s for you! For your big promotion! I know you’re going to be working from home more so I wanted to get you something you could use everyday! Well for work and fun” Aimee’s excitement was infectious.

Evan’s smile warmed seeing her evident satisfaction with both the idea and her wrapping job. He tore the paper off the top, and pulled the chair out of the box. It was a high-tech looking black office chair- but very roomy- it actually looked very comfortable.

“Thanks Aimee, that was very thoughtful of you.” Evan put aside his discomfort and gratefully gave Aimee a hug.

“Of course baby!! I got it online, it’s supposed to be the “chair of your dreams” haha, everyone says it changed their lives! I didn’t know chairs could do that, but I thought of course I want the best for my man!” Aimee grinned cheerfully

“Well I’ll set this up, and then I gotta actually *do* my new job, okay? How about getting us some dinner?” Evan turned his attention to the chair and Aimee left to order food

The chair came together in a matter of minutes, it was most of the way assembled, but Evan was shocked by the quality- it was an exceptionally well made chair for some online retailer. He took his first seat in the chair and felt unbelievably comfortable- he almost didn’t want to get up to roll it in front of the desk- so he didn’t! He scooted himself in the chair to the desk and powered on the computer. He poked around his work email and filled out some paperwork, but somehow an hour slipped by without noticing.

Aimee broke his focus by bring in the freshly arrived Chinese food to his desk

“Hey heyy, how do you like the chair?”

“it’s great ames! It’s really so comfortable!”

“Awww I’m so glad!!” Aimee noticed something under Evan’s button up.. some bloating? Or maybe just a trick of the light?

“Anyways babe, I gotta get some work done but thanks for getting the food” Evan’s gaze refixed itself on his monitor, and Aimee went to go eat in the kitchen.

after an hour or two had passed Evan had eaten all his Chinese takeout, which was fairly unusual for him- he ate at his desk often, but usually had leftovers to leave in his mini fridge adjacent to the desk.

Bored of work and needing a distraction he closed his work software, and opened his favorite game; deciding he’d just play for a bit before bed.

Evan slid on his headphones and directed all his attention to the game- until he felt a strange sensation from his abdomen, hunger? Evan frowned confused, but intent on finishing his game he reached for the fridge door while not even removing his eyes from the screen, and grabbed yesterday’s takeout. Playing with one hand, and stopping to eat with the other his performance suffered, but as time went on he felt more and more ravenous. Slowly his attention on the game came to a halt and he moved his chair to be in front of his fridge, digging through the contents looking for anything un-scavenged. Luckily prior evan had forgotten about a couple days worth of lightly picked over takeout- anxiety about his promotion had soured his appetite- but current Evan seemed utterly insatiable. His clothes had begun restricting his movement but the thought of that wasn’t even registering in his brain- he was utterly transfixed by his hunger.

“Aimee?? AIMEE!!! Are you out there? Can you bring me some food I’m starving!!” Evan shouted out to the house and received a hesitant “yeah?”

moments later Aimee popped her head into the room, holding a bag of chips

“Evan! what…happened?” She hurried over to his desk, and saw the face of her beloved boyfriend, budding with fat. Evan looked as though he had gained 40 pounds overnight, his shirt was straining to contain his new inches of fat, and doughy hips giving him plump lovehandles.

Aimee wasn’t sure what came over her but she felt completely weak as she gazed upon her boyfriend. “What are you hungry for? What can I get you?” She came up behind him and placed her hands delicately on his softened shoulders after handing him the chips.

Evan tore open the bag and began putting fistfuls in his mouth “Mexican” *mmph mph* “Lots of it” *mmph* “asap”

Aimee ran out of the room and down the street to the late-open Mexican restaurant and placed an order for catering. Impatiently she waited, her mind focused solely on Evan. Finally the food came and she ran back to the apartment, box stuffed to the brim with food.

When she swung open the apartment door she found Evan, in his chair, in the kitchen, in front of the fridge. “Oh my god Evan.” Her eyes fell on his body. His stomach had ripped open his shirt revealing his potbelly and thickening tits. His pants had miraculously stayed buttoned, but his ballooning thighs and inflating hips had to be burning in those confines. Aimee couldn’t help herself and rushed over with the food, unwrapping burritos and tacos, holding them up to his lips as he devoured one after the other.

Evan couldn’t help but moan in ecstasy at each bite, heavily panting for the half seconds he wasn’t eating. Until the pressure in his pants became uncontainable- and a deafening rip was heard by both of them- his ass and waist tore through the seams, immediately reliving the tension. He moaned again…

“Evan… I had no idea you were such a pig..” Aimee towered over him in the chair, putting his constant stream of food down for a moment. “The chair was just supposed to like, give you better hair or like whatever it is guys want!” She placed her hands on his pudge filled waist and pulled down the tattered remains of his pants. “But look at you. Look at how fucking fat you are… You like this don’t you?” She picked up his belly to reveal his throbbing member desperately seeking attention.

Evan’s eyes met Aimee’s, with a desperate, almost pathetic cry for attention.

“Oh don’t worry fat boy I’m gonna feed you” she caressed his engorged belly “but not without humiliating you bit”

She picked the burritos and Evan opened his mouth readily, this time with the beginnings of a double chin slowly becoming more prominent. Aimee fed him everything in the takeaway box, watching as his form steadily expanded. “You like it when I call you a fat boy huh”

Evan’s now buried member was leaking pre all over his belly and thighs. His face was rounded and begged for more

“You just want to give in to all your greedy fantasy huh… being a big gluttous pig with a fat heavy belly… no job but to eat and get bigger for me, isn’t that right?” Aimee traced her fingers over his body, looming over him, her tight athletes body intimidating him. Evan quivered. “Honey I think your breast are bigger than mine at this point.. let’s see if we can make them bigger…”

Aimee opened the freezer and pulled out the cake she’d bought him that was meant for the next days party. “This was for your big promotion party… but I’m guessing a big fatty like you is too hungry to resist?”

Evan’s drooling betrayed him.. his stomach loudly rumbled and he leaned forward desperately grabbing at it “P-Please Aimée I’ll do anything”

Aimee grabbed the chair, and wheeled him in front of the island, placing the cake in front of him, and supplying no utensils.

Evan couldn’t help himself but to dig in with his hands, putting fistful after fistful of cake inside him. Aimee rounded up the rest of the food in the kitchen and brought it before him, watching his weight unfold.

His belly expanded further, pushing his plush thighs as far apart as he could. His tightywhities began to groan and snap and his ass lifted him further out of the chair, and his hips grew more and more full. His sides developed into soft and thick rolls- forming creases and indenting where his breasts were. His bicep muscles transformed his arms into a fat boys- losing his muscularity in favor of fattening. His fingers and wrists got chubbier and chubbier with each fistful moved into his fattening lips. Panting and moaning making himself bigger and bigger and bigger..

Aimee watched with delight until he had cleared their entire home of sustenance. When he was done, he had gained so much width he had wedged himself into the arm rests.

“Look. At. You.” Aimee’s eyes full of amazement. “I mean look at you fatty… can you even stand up?”

Evan planted his pathetic chubby wrists on the arm rests and pushed up with all his might, only to relax back into the embrace of the chair panting like a dog.

Aimee gestured for his hands to attempt to help him out of the chair, grasping his new softness and yanking on her gargantuan boyfriend. “You gotta try too fat ass!!!!”

With a giant heave his massive ass uncoupled with the chair, leaving him heaving, holding onto the island for support.

“Fucking wow.” Aimee’s cruel tone only stiffened the erection Evan was hiding

“Aimee-“

“No no no Evan I’m running the show. We’re going to the bathroom”

Aimee grabbed Evan and he lumbered as she led him to the mirror.

Evan turned beet red. “I-I-I”

Aimee came up behind him “See how you can’t even see me standing behind you anymore?” She prodded his back rolls. Aimee snaked a hand around to his chest and cupped a tit. “Look at those tits baby.. you’re gigantic.. boys aren’t supposed to have tits you know.. or how about that belly? You’d look pregnant if you didn’t look so fat”

Evan reddened.

“Nothing to say for yourself? Have you gotten too fat to think about anything other than food?” She pinched his waist “You love it don’t you. You want to get bigger”

“I-I-I do..” Evan swallowed hard. He stared at his bloated reflection meekly.

“get on the bed fatty” she commanded

He shuffled to the bed frame, not used to his colossal weight. Sitting down the bed made awful creaking sounds. “There he is… my big pretty fat boy, all mine…”

fyi comments fuel me- if u liked pls lmk! Or lmk what else to write

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 23

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: what up my slutty butties!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You help Leslie bring out the plates. You set one before Mr. Laufeyson as Leslie puts one down before an empty chair. You can hear your dad muttering at his puzzle. Your boss is unfazed as he smugly sits waiting.

"Offer him something to drink while I get your father," Leslie lowers her voice, turning her back to your guest, "I know you didn't have a mother around but have some common courtesy."

You flinch, injured by her unnecessary remark. Sometimes she says things that sting, just like your father. You suppose that's why they get along so well. She sidesteps you and enters the front room, announcing her presence gaily as she calls your father's name.

"Mr. Laufeyson," you face him sheepishly, "would you like something to drink?"

"I suppose you haven't any cabernet," he snorts. You clamp your lip tightly in humiliation. "I am driving so I suppose it wouldn't matter, you have water, yes? It will suffice."

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson," you answer and spin away, fleeing to the kitchen behind the shield of the simple task.

You take a glass from the cupboard, checking to make sure it's clear and clean, and fill it from the filtered jug in the fridge. You return to the dining room as Leslie helps your father in. He bats her hand off his arm and grunts as he drops into an empty chair across from Mr. Laufeyson. You put the water in front of your boss and peek over at your dad.

"Dad, do you want something--"

"No," he barks as he snatches his fork, poking at the seasoned turnip, "what is this shit?" He sniffs, "smells like garbage."

You sit and balance at the edge of your chair, not paying any mind to the food before you.

"Charlies, don't be rude," Leslie claims a seat of her own, "Loki's mother was so kind to send this over to us."

"I don't know her," your father growls.

"Can't complain for free food, can we?" Leslie girds gently and sends a smile to Laufeyson, "it's been a tough day for him. The humidity really bothers him."

"Would you be quiet?" Your father snaps, "I can speak for myself and I'm just damn fi--"

Your father breaks out into another storm of coughs. He hits the table and braces it, his fork clattering as he struggles to catch his breath. Mr. Laufeyson sits placidly, picking up his knife and fork, and cutting into the pork loin.

"My, you do sound rather terrible," he says as he pokes a morsel of meat in the air on the tines. 

"He'll be fine, he just needs to catch his breath," Leslie assures.

"Mm, have you thought of an air purifier? It might do this place some good?" Laufeyson suggests with a curl of his lip, biting into the pork.

"Mr. Fucking Fancy Pants," your dad slaps his own chest as he finds his voice, "what do you know? You ain't some doctor walking in here telling me how to breathe."

"I have several degrees so I could claim the title, I suppose," Laufeyson taunts, "I always thought it a bit pompous, however."

"Ah, go off and buy another set of tits," your father snarls.

"You are such a loving father, aren't you?" Laufeyson goads.

"Good enough to know yours never smacked you hard enough," your dad retorts.

Silence. You look at Leslie as she peers between the men, a frigid smile frozen on her face. You bat your lashes as you teeter and grip the table.

Your dad takes his fork again and scoops up a soft chunk of turnip. He puts it in his mouth, making a face as he tastes it then gags and spits it out. It flies across the table onto Laufeyson's plate. Your brows rise as Leslie's expression mirrors your shock.

"Tastes like garbage too. That mother of yours must be just as much a disappointment to your father as you," your dad chortles at his own insult, hacking into another fit.

Mr. Laufeyson sets his fork down. He sighs and slides his plate away. He stares down your father as he sets his back straight.

"As much as you are to your daughter, I'm sure."

"Mr. Laufeyson," you squeak.

"Get--" your father coughs and chokes, fighting to get to his feet, his stomach hitting the table and rattling the dishes, "the fuck--" cough -- "out of my house."

"Is that what you call this place?" Laufeyson remains seated, glancing around derisively.

Leslie gasps, "sir, now you are too much, we welcomed you in--"

"I wasn't aware your job included nursing his bruised ego," Laufeyson shoots in her direction, "don't remind me of etiquette. I brought you all more than the scraps you have in the back of that dingy fridge. Of course, you wouldn't have the taste or sense to know good food."

"I said GET OUT!" Your father hollers so hard he sways, his voice scratching at its peak.

"Dad," you stand up, "Mr. Laufeyson, please, you need to go--"

"Take your own advice," he stands and scoffs in your father's direction.

"Stop, please, he's my dad--"

"Oh yes, I've heard it before," Laufeyson sneers, "and I heard you beg him just the same before he--"

"No!" You exclaim, "no, leave. Now. Please--"

"You needn't convince me further," Mr. Laufeyson strides around the table, "Chuck," he stops next to your father as he puffs, grasping the chair for support, "try not to choke on your own vitriol."

He pats your dad arm, causing him to recoil and fall onto the chair. Leslie rushes over to him as you stand dumbfounded. You hoped the day wouldn't get worse and yet, you can't say you didn't expect it. Even so, it hits you like a car at full speed and knocks the wind out of you. You don't know what to do.

"Have a good night," Mr. Laufeyson says at the door, "however pleasant it could ever be in a rat-infested hole like this." He looks at you, "thank you for this lovely dinner."

He turns and struts out. You shake your head as adrenaline courses through you, burning around your lungs and hammering in your chest. You look over at your father as he continues to cough violently.

"Dad..." you try to go to him.

"Haven't you done enough?" Leslie snaps as she lashes you with a glare. You wince and stumble back.

"I didn't--"

"He's right about you, isn't he?" She snarls, "you're just an ungrateful brat."

"No--"

"Go!" Your father forces through his choking gasp, "you little bitch!"

Your lip trembles as the room spins. You twirl away without a second thought, horrified and humiliated. You run out into the hallway and barrel up the stairs, sobbing by the time you get to the top step. Mr. Laufeyson has ruined everything. Your job, your family, and your entire life.

You thought you had nothing before, how wrong you were.

✨

 You cry yourself to sleep, just like many nights before. Your head swirls with rippled visions of angry eyes and shadowy figures. You drown in the thick unconscious, nearly suffocated with terror as you're paralysed against the virulent nightmares.

You wake only as a crash splinters your sleep. You sit up, heaving for air as you see a dark figure eerily similar to the one in your dreams. You blink until you can, the light of the hallway glowing in the limn your father's portly figure.

He drags out the next drawer from your dresser and dumps it over the pile mounded on the floor. He staggers as he drops the plywood and kicks it aside. He leans on the handle of his oxygen tank as you reach for your lamp.

"Dad? What are you--"

He struggles to reach for the bottle by his feet. He lifts it and wobbles as he untwists the cap. He overturns the bottle of bleach onto the heap of clothes, kicking them around as the stringent chemical spills out. You watch as he ruins the layers of new clothing and cry out as you bounce to the foot of the bed.

"What are you doing!?" You shriek.

"Whore's clothes," he tosses the bottle on top, "you... bring your pimp in here like the slut you are--"

"Dad," you whimper but have no words. He's not so far off after all. You look down at the clothes and the pale stains of the bleach patching across the fabric, "dad, I'm sorry. I tried-- I was only--"

"I don't care," he grits, "I'm done with you. You been..." he takes a deep breath, clasping his chest, "mooching off me for thirty years. You sucked the life outta me--" he gasps again, "look what you done to me," he tugs at the tube that trails down his chest, "this is your fault. You killed me just like you did your mother."

"No, no, no," you touch your cheeks as they burns and your tears fall free, "please, don't say that."

It's another nightmare. It has to be. You're still sleeping. This can't be real.

"Dad," you stand and reach for him, "don't be mad--"

He hits you. Not hard, he can't. He's too weak. You flinch and back away, cowering as you cradle your head. He looks around, his head bobbling and grabs the hardcover book from atop your dresser.

He nears you as you shrink down, stunned into helplessnness. He grips the book with both hands and swings it at you. The first strikes doesn't wake you. It's real. 

He hits you, over and over, the sharp corner jabbing into your cheek and chin, then the side thumping across your shoulder and against your side. He keeps on until he can't.

He drops the book and coughs, bending over as he slips to one knee. You watch him, tears streaming into your hands as you babble like a child. 

"Daddy," you murmur.

"You get out or I'll call... the goddamn... police," he braces the oxygen tank and forces himself up. "This isn't your home no more." He limps and drags the tank to the door, "it never was.”

✨

You don't know what to do. You can barely stop crying long enough to think. The heavy bags weigh down your steps as you wander mindlessly to the corner and stop, the reality of the moment crashing down like thunder.

You drop the duffle bag and sit on it, letting your work bag hit the pavement by your feet. The sun has barely come up as you sit in the dim hue of dawn. Where do you go?

You feel yourself sinking. Your lungs are reading to shrivel and your head is going to cave in. You're lost. You have no home, you have no father, you have nothing... well, you still have a job.

You cry a little longer, until you hear the first sign of life from across the street. You get up as a man comes of a house. He doesn't notice you as you hitch up your work bag and grab the duffle from the sidewalk. You just need somewhere for a night or two. Let dad cool off and you'll apologise. It will be okay.

You walk down to the main road and catch the first bus. You have no direction, no destination. You get off as you see the marquee of the Holiday Inn. You've never stayed in a hotel, hopefully they have room for you. It seems like no one does.

You shuffle inside, tired and worn out. There's a woman behind the front desk, sitting on a chair so you can only see the top of your head. You hobble over under the weigh of your bags and wait for her to notice you. When she doesn't, you tap the bell on the counter.

"Eh?" She stands up, almost tipping over, "sorry," she yawns, "didn't hear you come in."

"Mm," you hum and chew your lips, "that's okay. Erm..."

"Do you have a reservation? Bit early... or late, to be checking in."

"No, uh, I don't," you lower your eyes, "do you have anything available?"

"Sure we do," she answers chipperly. You look at her name tag; Mindy. "I got a few singles clean and ready."

"Okay, that's good," you answer, "how much?"

"Hundred and twenty for tonight. Credit on file or three hundred cash deposit."

"Oh," you try not show your surprise, "okay, I er, think I have enough but I don't have a credit card."

"Now worries, there's an ATM," she points across the lobby.

"Thank, can I leave my bags here for a second?"

"Sure, sweetie," she turns to the computer and clicks around.

You cross to the machine and dig out your debit card. You slide it into the slot and push the firm metal buttons. Your stomach plummets as you punch in the custom amount for withdrawal. You were saving that for the mortgage and Leslie. You hit Yes and the machine whirs, spitting out a stack of bills and a receipt.

You return to the counter and hand it over. Mindy asks for your name and phone number. You give her your info, growing more weary by the moment.

"Here are your keys," she hands over a tiny paper folio, "checkout is 11am tomorrow."

"Thanks."

"Wifi info is in there, along with information about breakfast. Coffee in the room and a kettle. Oh, and microwave."

You thank her one last time and collect your bags once more. You go to the elevator and check the folio for your room number. You hit floor six and wait for the box to rise. You step off, following the wall plaques to the matching door. It's yours, just for a little bit.

You swipe the card several times before it unlocks, struggling to make it register. You push your duffle inside with your feet and put your work bag beside it as the door shuts on its own. The room is small, the walls are pasted in faded wallpapers and the bed is made with sheets that remind you of another decade.

You put the keys on the table against the wall and drag yourself to the bed. You don't really have any time to nap, you just need to get off your feet for a little.

Your restlessness doesn't let you sit long. You wear some of your old clothes, of the few pieces you salvaged from the ruin. You check yourself in the mirror. You don't bother with the makeup. Mr. Laufeyson will be disappointed either way. Besides, you shouldn't care so much what he thinks. You're just his house manager after all. You're there to do a job.

If only believing it would make it true.

You find a route that goes towards his neighbourhood. It lets you off a few blocks away and you take your time. You almost don't have a choice as your body is achy from your father's attach, new bruises rising tenderly to the surface.

You're early despite the fractured night. As you pass the cafe, you slow and glance through the window. Just one more quiet moment before you face the inevitable.

You push inside and see the same woman as last time. You give the same order as you doubt she even recognises you. She hovers her finger over the touch screen of her till, "we have a special, a rose tea latte, if you're interested."

"Oh?" You scrunch up your lips, you've never been good at saying no. "Sure, I'll try that."

You got the change to pay and frown. You shouldn't be spending what's left on a tea. You should be smarter. Maybe if you were, you wouldn't be such a loser.

You sit and stare at the pink foam. You don't know if you can do this but what other choice do you have? You could just disappear but for how long? You'll run out of money. As hard as it was to get this job, you don't think a new one would be any easier when you have one reference. A reference who you don't expect a shining review from.

You sip carefully. It's delicious. You drop your forehead into your hand as hot tears brim your eyes. You fight to constrain them, nearly quaking with the effort. Your eyes are swollen enough as it is.

You continue to drink, keeping your head down, and finish before you resign yourself to fate. To face Mr. Laufeyson. You can do this, not because you're strong, but because you have to.

[wakasaz]

My mind is filled with Waka being a brat tamer🤭

𐙚 Pairing: Wakasa Imaushi x fem!reader

𐙚 CW: Dom waka, brat reader, unprotected sex, rough sex, choking, slapping, pet names, jealousy, mean Waka

𐙚 18+ MDNI [n]sfw

𐙚 Word Count: 1.1k

𐙚AN: not proof read.

𐙚 To say Waka was shocked you were less than thrilled to see him at your door was an understatement. “What? Not happy to see me darlin’?” You roll your eyes “Don’t call me that” Wakas eyes widen slightly. Usually you love whatever pet name he calls you. You turn and walk into your apartment leaving the door open so he can follow.

𐙚 You haven’t seen each other in a few weeks and if he knew that he it would cause you to have attitude with him he would of came to see you sooner.

𐙚 You and Wakasa have a simple arrangement. When he shows up or calls you know its to fuck. He never contacts you for anything else. You’re fine with this. You get free sex and sex with Waka is always good but today you are not in the mood to see him. You’ve been pissy since you woke up. Everything that could go bad today did and you are just ready to crawl in bed and forget about it.

𐙚 You ignore him as he talks to you, rolling your eyes every few words. He asked you something. You weren’t listening so you just clicked your tongue and turned your head away from him.

𐙚 Before you can even register what is going on your back connects to the wall and Waka has his hand around your throat, he is so close your noses are almost touching. “I’m tired of the fucking attitude. Now are you going to let me fuck this tight pussy or am I going to have to find some other bitch to get me off?”

𐙚 Your eyes widen slightly before going back to normal. You chuckle, smirking at him. “You find one of your other bitches then, not like you can fuck me goodenough anyway.”

𐙚 Wakasa lets out a growl before his mouth is on your in a heated kiss. You feel him squeeze your neck. Not tight enough to hurt you but enough to cut off air for a second. His tongue slips in your mouth and you fight for dominance but he wins when he squeezes your neck again. You let a moan slip past your lips and he smirks against you.

𐙚 He pulls you from the wall walking backwards towards your bedroom. Once inside he pushes you down on the bed standing over you readjusting himself. “You going to be a good girl and suck my cock?”

𐙚 “I’ll bite it” “no you won't. Not if you want to come too” He tells you to strip. You roll your eyes at him but can’t ignore the way it made your pussy clench. “Take them off yourself” Waka tilts his head to the side and smirks down at you “Still wanna be a brat I see” he says while running his hand up your bare thigh stopping right at the bottom of your skirt. “That's fine” his hand slides high fingers under your skirt “I only really need one thing off” he says as he strokes your clothed pussy before pushing your panties to the side and finding your clit.

𐙚 You bite your lip trying to hold back a moan when he adds more pressure and speeds up his movements. He pokes a finger at your entrance feeling how wet you are. He groans at the feeling. “Soaked and just from a little petting” he mocks. You harden your gaze at him glaring. He chuckles before shoving his finger in starting slow but building his pace, curling his finger at just the right spot. “You going to be my good girl now?” He adds a second finger this time no matter how hard you bite your lip a moan falls from you. “There she is”

𐙚 Your legs are shaking, your biting your lip so hard you can taste blood when an idea pops into your head. “Omi fingers me better” All movements stop. You want to whine at the loss of pleasure but your pride won’t let you. “What did you just say, princess?”

𐙚 “I said Omi fingers me better. He has thicker and longer fingers than you. Now that I think about it he fucks me better too.”

𐙚 “That so” He says through gritted teeth before he grabs your hips flipping you over on all fours. “Ass up” he pushes your face into the mattress, flipping your skirt over your plump ass before delivering a hard slap. “You wanna be a whore, I’ll fuck you like a whore” He grips your panties pushing them to the side as he frees himself from his pants hissing as the cool air hits him.

𐙚 “Your going to take my cock like a good girl and your going to thank me for it” He shoves himself into you, no warning, no time to adjust as he starts a brutal pace. He’s gripping your hips so hard you know it’s going to bruise but you don’t care it feels so good. Waka has never fucked you hard. It’s always been sweet, almost loving. If you didn’t know Waka better you’d think he was in love with you.

𐙚 “Take it” he says as his fingers find your clit. “Your going to come on my cock and milk me for everything I’ve got” you moan into the bed, hands balling into fists, clenching the sheets. You're so full. It’s been so long since he visited you forgot how well he fills you up.

𐙚 You feel your release building. Your moaning and drooling into the mattress when everything stops. Waka is shallowly thrusting into you and his fingers are off of you. “No” you whine “Your going to beg if you want to come. Beg like a bitch in heat.” your pride doesn’t want you to. If you had more willpower you wouldn’t but fuck you were right there. “Please” “You can do better than that” he says delivering a hash thrust than going back to shallow

𐙚 “Please waka, please let me come. Let me milk your cock, fill me up like I’m your little slut, just please let me come” You beg tears rolling down your cheeks as you cry into the sheets pray he gives you your release.

𐙚 “That's more like it” his fingers are on you again and his fast deep thrust are back. “Come” He demands. You’re moaning and scream his name repeating it like it's the only word you know. Probably because right now it is. Your legs are shaking as your release washes over you. The feeling of you clenching his cock is enough to push him over the edge. He fills you up telling you to take it all like the good girl he knows you are.

𐙚 You both lay there catching your breath when Waka walks away. He comes back a few minutes later, picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom, stripping you of your clothes. He lays you down in a warm bath rubbing your back, working out any knots. He kisses you “See you are my good girl”

[gaymurdersalad]

[ HOWDY Y’ALL! WE INTERRUPT THIS PROGRAM FOR A FUN BROADCAST!

If you haven’t noticed, it’s pride month! That means we’re legally allowed to be gay for an entire month before we have to disappear into our burrows once more! To celebrate the occasion, I decided to do a fun little pride post! ]

[ I’ve gathered all the little fuckers in The Void to poke and prod at them like zoo animals. In other words, I figure they all have some neat identities and wouldn’t mind being interrogated in honor of pride month. I’ll go ahead and turn it over to them, but I’ll say now, no matter how much they kick and scream, I am definitely NOT holding them at gunpoint! This workspace is… definitely OSHA approved. Don’t let them tell you otherwise. Have attem! ]

> This is fucking stupid. Stop waving that gun at me. I’m talking.

> My identity isn’t anything special. I’m just some guy who decided he was a guy way later than everyone else did. I don’t really give a damn what pronouns people use on me because usually they just end up avoiding me at all costs or scampering away like frightened animals.

> I’m bisexual, is that anything? But, like, only bisexual in a sexual way. I could not fucking fathom living a long prosperous life with anyone. How the hell are you supposed to enjoy someone for that long? Getting married seems like a scam. I bet it is. I bet it’s like the invention of Valentine’s Day for greeting card companies. You’re not actually supposed to be in love with someone for that long, it just doesn’t seem possible.

> … My marriage with Dave does not count, that wasn’t an officiated wedding. I’m fairly certain he fished those rings out of a water fountain and pawned his dress off a hooker. I do vividly recall dumpster diving for my tuxedo.

> Uhhhhhh wuh? Hmmmm, I’onno what the hell I am, Old Sport! Fuck!

> Shit, I guess I like everyone. A hole’s a hole. Why the fuck would I discriminate? I think I got a preference for men though! They’re so fuckin’ easy to romance! Unless they’re the likes of Sportsy, then it’s the hardest goddamn thing you’ll ever seduce. He gets real gay when he’s on acid, but then again, I get real gay on cocaine. Man, our wedding was immaculate. Imma tell our kids about it one day!

> Likewise, I’ll be any gender you fuckin’ want me to be. I got like, pocket gender, I can just whip it out on request. Want me to be a dude? Fuck yeah, alright. Want me to be a pretty lady? No goddamn problem at all! I can be both at the same time or one more than the other— who gives a shit? I’m just havin’ fun.

> Good fucking lord, really? That shotgun does not scare me, you orange fool—

> … I have a complicated identity. As any other living organism does.

> I have found that over the years I do not experience sexual attraction and that I experience little to no romantic attraction. I only recall feeling romantically attracted to one person in my entire life. I doubt it will happen again. > And it may seem, uhm... Embarrassing, but I do deviate from your traditional "man's man". In laymen's terms, I do not feel particularly drawn to being male. I am very certain I was born with the intention of being a man, but my mind has refused to accept it. I am not sure why. Instead of feeling like a proper bloke, I feel rather empty. If I could have it my way, I would be some... human silhouette rather than a full fledged man. I do not know. This is idiotic. > I cringe every time someone addresses me in a masculine way. I wish I could simply have no pronouns. I can deal with them because I am indeed a grown ass... person, but I just wish it were not so. Whatever. I am done complaining.

> Oh! That’s very simple, this is really easy.

> I literally don’t have anything going for me at all.

> What with the entire fabric of time being on my shoulders and all, I don’t even think about gender or romance much. I do love being a girl! It’s one of the things I miss most about being alive, actually. Pretty dresses, playing with makeup in the bathroom, trying to curl my hair without burning my scalp— I mean, it sounds horrendous sometimes, but you can’t beat it. Feeling alive and content in your own skin. Just one of those precious things that spawned from the chance of life.

> … Uhm, Uhhh… Men.

> Yeah. I Like Them. I Think… Yes, I Could Probably Date A Man Or Two. I Don’t Know, Employee, Why Did You Pull Me Out Here? You Know I Have Copious Paperwork To Do! Some @$!# $#*@ Kid Just Fell Into The Ball Pit And Got Mauled Jaws-Style And His Parents Are Really Grilling Us For It. Dumb&@#*s, It’s Not My Fault Their Kid Heeded The Call Of The Sirens. I Swear, This Job Is Going To Kill Me Or Force My Hand Into Becoming The Next Purple Guy—

> extremely in love with my wife and my gender!

> it was actually very cute how we met, employee. have i ever told you? heh heh, we met in highschool. she was on the football team and i was a cheerleader, can you believe that? oh, i was head over heels for her instantly. she was strong, she was quick thinking, she was so hecking beautiful, employee… i never got to tell her how i felt while we were in highschool, but we were good friends. very good friends. come a few years later, some old buddies of ours want to have a get together and dish it out like old times… go vandalize and drive off into the sunset in the back of a pickup truck sipping on horrendously cheap beer and laughing off our university work or our jobs. when i get to our spot, though, i see her. i’d recently wised up to my gender, y’know, had my hair cut and fresh scars on my chest, so suffice to say i looked nothing like i did when i cheered for her during football season. she’d done the same, employee— she grew out her hair to the middle of her back in such beautiful dark curls, her bangs tied back so every inch of her perfect face could glimmer underneath the neon lights of the derelict bowling alley we’d found ourselves in. she looked at me, and i sensed instant recognition. she smiled through her bright red lipgloss and rushed up to me, wrapping me up in a hug, and i swear, she hadn’t lost any of those muscles— almost broke my ribs!

> the rest of the night, we were so… comfortable together. sure, during highschool we were close, but without saying a single word about what happened to us between then and now, we understood, and employee— i think it brought us closer. it was around three in the morning while we sat around a bonfire with the rest of our buddies when she layed her head on my shoulder and i felt an unfathomable warmth. i knew i wanted her for the rest of my life.

> … i just love her so much, employee.

> oh ok

> its rlly whatever. any pronouns any gender anybody who wants me. who cares

> oh i do have a preference for girls. theyre pretty. if you disagree u are not blessed enough to be loved by gods best creation and ur pissed about it. i can tell

> what if i was actually catholic would that be fucked up or what

> …

> … I cannot… physically stress how abhorrent sexuality is to me. What… What an utterly damning notion. Someone’s greedy hands cursing you and plaguing your with their own dirty human desires. How disrespectful. How… invasive. Why on Earth would it be my responsibility to supply someone with something to love? Am I really subject to whatever the hell people think of me? Whether they “love” me or perceive me as some… some man, some object of attraction? Disgusting.

> If I could shed every trace of a sex or gender from my loathed corpse, I would. Often times I lay awake at night and consider skinning myself for the hell of it. I’ve related this to David and he said I sounded “fuckin’ insane”. Stupid bastard. I want to be a skeleton. I wanna be a fucking skeleton! Pretty and thin and not alive whatsoever! God damn this accursed body and its… rancid flesh and unidentifiable mystery goop. Ugh. Ugh!!!! God, the biggest blight on my “life” was being cursed with gender!

> I was born as a female which was just laughably wrong, then I recall amending that and trying to become a man, but none of it worked. All of it sucked. All of it was wretched. The ideal form is a ghost or ghoul or skeletal figure. You can’t romance a ghost or ghoul or skeletal figure. Can’t have sex with that. Unless you’re really, really determined. I don’t think even David could be that serious about his sexuality.

> … I… Hope. Oh dear. Oh god, I really am unsafe from the horrors of this world. God, I wish that bear had taken me out before I showed him to his grave.

[lloromanic0]

hiiii! i love ur writing and i saw you wanted more bill girlssss so here i am! do u think you could write a bill smut in his dread era (so underrated omg) ? thx🩷🩷🩷

Love all my Bill girls.

(Thank you so much for the request & for liking my writing!! I actually really liked writing this one.)

SMUT MDNI

Lil summary: needy Bill has been craving you for days.

He’s so majestic omfg

You sat on the bed with your laptop on top of you, you had a long essay to hand in till the end of the week. Since you needed total concentration for it you told your boyfriend, Bill, you needed some alone time.You had been working on it for the past 5 hours, your sweet boyfriend would sometimes come inside the room quietly to hand you another water or bring you some snacks and you couldn’t be more grateful for him.

With all your university work, and his life as a lead singer you hadn’t been having much time for each other and that was really messing with Bill, he didn’t want to make you mad or bother you but all these nights he had to spend with a aching boner for you were driving him crazy.

After 20 minutes your boyfriend came inside the room but this time he just sat on the edge of the bed looking at you. At first you thought he just wanted to be close to you even if you weren’t doing anything together, but the way he kept looking at you felt like it was something else.

“Bill? What is it mein Fürst?“ you asked.

He looked down has he played with his fingers on his lap.

“I just…really miss you..” he replied with a sad voice, you thought he was so cute like that.

“I can take a break if you want.”

His eyes lit up, those beautiful brown eyes you adored so much.

“Come sit next to me.” He crawled on the bed and sat down. You placed your hand on his thigh.

“Tell me about what you’ve been doing lately, I’m very sorry we’re not spending a lot of time together my love.”

Bill talked about the plans he was making with the band, how the practice they he had yesterday went, how he wanted to take you to this new cafe he saw, you just loved hearing him talk about anything.

“But at night…it’s when I miss you the most Y/N…”

“Why is that Bill?” You knew exactly what he meant, you heard him at night trying to get off quietly next to you, but his little moans betrayed him.

“I miss your touch and your body on mine..” oh god how cute was he so needy for you. You rubbed his thigh moving to the inner part. His already hard cock begging for you but a hand job wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him he needed more.

“Baby…let me fuck you please..” he never asks for it you usually just take the lead and he does whatever you want, he must be really desperate.

You just smile at him and lay on the bed.

“I’m all yours Billy.”

He gets on top of you, you could see his hard cock poke through his sweatpants as he lowers them to free his aching erection. He takes your shorts off along with your panties, he felt like your pussy was calling for him, he needed to be buried deep inside of you.

Using his hands he spread your folds rubbing the tip of his cock on your clit, his whimpers filling the room as you admired your beautiful boyfriend pleasuring you.

Just the rubbing of his cock on your pussy was enough to drive him crazy but he craved the feeling of being inside your warm hole.

He slowly and gently insert himself in you, making you get used to his cock, no matter how many times you had sex with him getting used to his huge length always took a little bit of time. After rocking his hips slowly for a few minutes, he picked up his pace in desperation, leaning down to capture your lips in a deep kiss, you hugged him tight making him feel safe in your embrace, as he kept fucking you passionately. This moment being what he had wished for the most this past weeks, being inside you having your touch for him, you paying full attention to him was all he needed.

“Am I- making you feel good Y/N?” He questioned, he loved hearing you reassure him.

“So good~ you’re being so good for me Bill…mhhm keep going just like that-“ You praised him.

Your kind words were all he needed to get sent over the edge, now slapping his hips deep into you in a way to reach the orgasm he so desperately needed, his thumb now rubbing your clit to help you reach your orgasm with him.

“Cum with me mhhmn- please Y/N.”

“I’ll cum with you baby~ aahh just- keep going for me.”

His hips now getting week and his legs trembling as he kept getting closer to his release, your moans now louder and more frequent,in a few seconds you came all over his dick, coating it in your wet juices, the erotic sight made Bill cum with a few more strokes, his thick seed coating your insides as he kept slowly moving his hips riding his orgasm and also making you enjoy yours a little longer.

As he slowly pulled out,his huge load he had been keeping inside him all these days, slightly dripped out of your hole,with his finger he pushed his cum back into you making you exhale sharply.

“Thank you for this meine Liebling.“ he kissed you once more “I really missed you…”

“I missed you to meine Schatz. Ich liebe dich.“ you replied smiling at him.

“Ich liebe dich mehr…“ he shyly replied.