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rae-writes · 3 months

Text

OnlyFantoms???

om brothers x reader

wc : 2.k

warnings : nsfw, gn!reader with skirt wearing (mammon, satan), panties/lingere wearing (satan, asmo), online sharing

synopsis : let's see what the latest trending porn videos are

a/n : for some reason, tumblr desktop is making the symbols bold and way bigger than they're supposed to be, so if you're on desktop just ignore how that looks :/

being asked about it in a livestream

Your legs are spread open for the camera, hooked over your boyfriend’s with no chance of closing them, while his hand is shoved down the front of your bottoms. The other roams your body— sliding up your shirt and wrapping around your throat. Your arms are clearly straining themselves as they hold your body up, all so you could rock your hips against Lucifer’s fingers; though the view is covered by your clothes, the slick sounds are all too clear, giving away how aroused you really were. When your arms finally give out and you fall back against his chest, there’s a shift in the air that you can practically feel as his bicep flexes under the fabric of his shirt, free arm yanking you up higher on his lap so he can finger you harder. Over the sound of your moans and cries for him to ‘please let me cum, been s’good for you, please please please’, you can hear Lucifer’s signature low chuckle and the faint sound of his shaky breathing before he’s giving you permission, outright laughing when you squeal and jerk in his grasp. His hand slips from your bottoms, and though his face isn’t in frame, it’s clear he’s licking your cum off his fingers right before the video cuts off.

Good grades get rewarded | 0:45 seconds | 108.k views | 100.k likes | 97.k comments

Lucifer?!

Hand cam hand cam hand cam

Dude, isn’t Mc a straight A student? THIS IS WHAT THEY GET FOR EVERY A??

I’d good grades too if I had the morning star behind me like this

^I’d get good grades if I could have Mc in my lap like this tf

†

Panting and moaning fill the dim atmosphere, mixing in with the faint sound of slapping skin as large hands push and pull at your hips. The camera is positioned only to catch your lower bodies, but through the dark you can still catch the bobbing of Mammon’s adams apple and the curve of your mouth as you place kisses along his jaw. His grip on your hips makes your skirt ride up higher and higher, showing more and more slivers of skin until your entire ass is on display. There’s a shine- the mix of your cum and his- everytime he pulls you up, only to disappear with a filthy ‘shlick’ as he yanks you back down onto his cock. There’s a natural haze to the lens and the windows are entirely fogged up— sweat is beading and rolling down his exposed chest, showing you’ve been at this much longer before the recording ever started. By now, the second born has started emitting whiny growls as he switches to grinding you and the audio picks up a nearly inaudible choked out version of your name before his arms are circling around you and he’s lifting you up slightly with his last thrust. It’s quiet as you pet his hair while he’s busy massaging your waist- and then you're reaching over to grab the camera with a giggle, angling it to see the mess you’ve both made over your clothes. There’s a hushed ‘Lucifer’s gonna kill us-!’ before the screen goes black.

Greed is the name of the game | 2:45 minutes | 95.k views | 91.k likes | 86.k comments

A Y O???

PLS mammon sounded so hot

I don’t know who I’m jealous of or who I’d rather be rn

I wanna be the car

Come get y’all’s dinner, we’re eating good toDAY

†

The pretty lighting of the fish tank washes over you, highlighting the red scratch lines trailing down Levi’s abdomen to where you’re placing kisses along his hips and pelvis. The sounds are a bit exaggerated- both to make the demon squirm in embarrassment- and because you’ve got the hood of his jacket thrown up to cover your face. Levi’s got his arms pressed close to his chest, hands gripping the controller so hard the plastic creaks every so often; you can hear the shooting from his game and the frantic mashing of buttons. When you finally take his cock in your mouth, seen by your head bobbing at a fast pace, a loud moan rips from his throat and his hips begin thrusting against your ministrations. The room is filled with whines and whimpers, begs to ‘please go faster’, and your amused laughing. There’s a distinct pop when you pull off his cock and replace your mouth with your hand, all so you could lean up and slam your lips against his. Levi throws the controller to the side, hands scrambling to grab the back of your head and the wrist of the hand that’s jerking him off. He’s practically brainless now as he cries and begs for you to make him cum, switching between that and making those lewd, slick, noises whenever your tongue plays with his. When you command him to cum, he shrieks at the intensity, pulling you closer and closer until you're on top of him and his cum is streaking your clothes. There’s a meek ‘I’m sorry’ and the sound of your giggling before your hands go to the waistband of your pants and the video cuts off.

Motivation for true gamers | 1:30 minutes | 87.k views | 85.k likes | 74.k comments

Making these sounds my alarm as we speak

WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN

Suddenly I’ve become a master gamer

Never picked up a controller in my life but I’m otw to buy one rn

Reverse the roles please I beg!!

†

There’s a fairly large spellbook in your hands as you sit on your boyfriend’s lap at one of the library tables; he has his head buried in the crook of your neck, fingers digging at your hips as he subtly rocks you back and forth over his cock. The side profile shows only your skirt bunched up to your upper thighs and lace green panties tugged down to your knees— everything is completely covered, even when Satan gets bold and begins bouncing you up and down. No sounds are made except for a faint creaking of the chair and the spellbook thudding against the table when your back arches. All movements halt when someone’s shadow passes by, but as soon as they’re gone, your arms reach back to wrap around Satan’s neck, fingers burying in his blonde locks and tugging desperately. You can’t help the way you begin fucking Satan without his guidance or the way short whimpers begin falling from your lips. He lets out a low hiss, wrapping a hand around your mouth harshly to keep things quiet, all while he pushes you forward to bend over the table as he stands. He pounds at you roughly, using the fabric of your skirt to keep your skin from slapping together. The frantic pace doesn’t stop until he’s got you shaking from your orgasm and he’s following along with a muffled growl. Only then does he let go of your mouth and kiss at where his fingers dug in a little too roughly, massaging over your hips as he whispers about a ‘another study session well done’ before the video cuts.

Shh— quiet in the library | 5:00 minutes | 91.k views | 87.k likes | 82.k comments

regretting never getting into reading after this

what days do you two go to the library, asking for a friend

my face was pressed up against the screen the entire video

can I be the bookmark

putting in my librarian application asap

†

It was a sight that would be found in the best of porn magazines: your body on display with a pretty- expensive- champagne lingerie set that matched the fifth born’s hair color to a tee, while Asmo himself was completely bare, smiling face all dolled up and in frame. What made it even more delicious was his manicured fingers wrapped around his own cock, sliding along the slick area as he gave breathy moans and laughs, all while resting his head on your thigh to watch you pleasure yourself as well. Each bite and lick he delivered to your skin was slow and drawn out, matching the pace each of you were going— but one sharp tug to Azzy’s locks made his back arch with a sharp cry, eyes flashing pink. It’s a blur as he yanks you on top of him, lace-covered ass now on full display for the camera as it bounces along with his movements. The noises are so beautifully vile as you both grind against one another, moans reflecting back that get louder and louder the harder he pulls you down. A few whiny ‘I’m gonna cum!’ exclamations escape him before he forces his cock in you at the last second and practically screams with how intense it made everything feel. There’s thirty seconds of sweet talk and giggling before he’s lifting you up bridal style and you both wag your fingers at the camera before the video ends.

Dress up, dress down | 8:15 minutes | 123.k views | 117.k likes | 103.k comments

I can die happy now

FOR FREE?!?!

I can’t decide who sounds better or looks better

^the answer is both

thank you for the fIVE COURSE FUCKING M E A L

†

The sound of running water does nothing to hide the sharp sounds of slapping skin or the rumbly growls Beel is letting out. His wings are sparkling under the shower spray, fluttering rapidly as he fucks into you; his muscles flex with each movement, practically showing off to the camera since he has his backside facing it. Your legs, lifted up to his shoulders with your knees to your ears, and your hands gripping tightly at his horns are the only part of you that can be seen. Your voice echoes, though, loud and whiny moans that hitch each time he delivers a harsher thrust. You can see his hands wandering, unable to pick a place to grip or knead underneath his fingertips, just like his head keeps tilting or ducking down to scatter kisses and bites and hickeys over your skin. When his pace finally falters, it’s due to his stuttering hips and an unrestrained moan tears from his throat, followed by ‘c-cumming! G’na cum inside, fuck, fuck—!’ You can see his knees buckle a bit and your hands white-knuckling his horns. He gives a few frantic thrusts before he crushes your body against him and stills, letting the water cascade down your bodies with content sighs. The sound of a door opening echoes, followed by laughter from multiple people, before you’re whispering ‘now how are you gonna sneak me out?’ and the video cuts black.

A filthy cleaning | 6:26 minutes | 89.k views | 78.k likes | 72.k comments

Can we talk about his sheer strength?? The muscles?? The effortless pace??

THAT ASS THO

ain’t never seen a more lucky human

Is that…the Fangol’s locker room showers-

I— please??

†

For a moment, there’s only giggling and the rustling of blankets to be heard as you crawl onto Belphie’s lap— whose face is completely hidden by the plush pillows surrounding him. There’s a faint huff from the demon as you begin grinding on his lap, which quickly devolves into groans the harder you press against his bulge. It’s not long before he’s full on moaning, though not yet awake, and you’re lifting yourself up to take his cock out. His oversized shirt you’re wearing hides you well- only showing enough skin to tell you weren’t wearing underwear- and shields the way you fist his cock before lining it at your entrance. Belphie stirs then, voice coming out hoarse as he calls your name groggily. You drop down, not bothering to go slow, and the seventh born lets out a high pitched whine, hips raising in surprise before he’s flush against the bed again, letting you fuck him till your hearts content. You do exactly that, with your hands pressed to his chest for support, and his own clawing desperately at your thighs. His voice remains in a higher pitch, moaning and whining and whimpering, getting louder and louder until you let out a sharp demand for him to cum, and then he’s cumming with a broken gasp— all Belphie can do is give choked cries when you keep rocking your hips and the video ends after hearing your ‘nu-uh, baby, not done yet. Still want more.’

Wake up call | 7:30 minutes | 84.k views | 80.k likes | 75.k comments

holy fuck I wanna be belphie so bad

why don’t I get woken up this way wtf

This! Is! How! You! Do! It! People!

Can— can we just. Talk about that WHINE THOUGH?!

The grip on their thighs and hoarse moans are sending me

3K notes · View notes

kiwisbell · 2 months

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helen ; chapter three

the red circle

Si vis pacem, para bellum. Or, the truth.

series masterlist | my masterlist pairing: joel miller x f!reader tags/warnings: 18+ (MDNI), john wick AU, hitman!joel, husband!joel, established relationship, artist!reader, love as worship (and blasphemy), sacrilege in the name of romance, flashbacks, graphic violence, guns, blood + injuries, mentions of rape/SA, cars, bill is here, joel is still a bit of an idiot, childhood/religious trauma, hitman!joel finally hitmans, criminal underworld, secrecy/lies, betrayal, ANGST (still unresolved oopsie), we're getting there though, exposition, conflicting emotions, joel's tattoos are sexy but they're also plot-relevant, Sleeping Together, but not like That, the typical alcohol/smoking/profanity, dividers by @/saradika word count: ~ 7.6k a/n: this chapter marks this fic being halfway done already, which is madness. also, can i just say that i'm loving the amount of people who've specifically been watching john wick because of this fic?? this is my agenda!! as always, thank you so fucking much to mya baby @cavillscurls for beta reading this fic and being, idk, generally the loml. i hope you enjoy chapter 3, my friends! i'm sorry it's been such a long time coming, but life lifed, y'know?? prev | next

“How much?”

“Two million. For now, at least. It’s open.”

“Goddammit, Tommy.”

“I told you to be careful, brother. Now look at you. You’re a loose end.”

Joel resisted the urge to toss his phone. The shower continued running in the bathroom, muffled by the closed door.

He couldn't lose you. He didn't know life without you. Love had no name until he knew you. He'd christened it with that first kiss, maybe even in the first breath he'd shared with you.

If there was a chance Cabrera’s kid could come back for you, even if just to hurt Joel, he needed to see this to its end. There was no choice.

“He tried to rape my wife,” said Joel. “He's lucky I’m only tryin’ to kill him.”

Tommy only sighed, and the call ended.

I married you, Joel.

I loved you.

You lied to me.

He rests his elbows on his knees as he watches you doze. The sunlight shines neatly through the break in the curtains, and you squint against it in your sleep, turning over with a little huff and bringing the duvet over your head. You’ve always needed total darkness for a half-decent sleep.

You’ve been crying. The tears leave remnants on your cheeks, a dryness at the outer corners of your eyes, salt seeping moisture from your skin. He’s never known a thing so soft as the drag of his hand down your back.

I loved you.

You lied to me.

You will never understand. There are reasons—too many to count—that civilians cannot know. He may have gotten you to relative safety in the Continental, but there are a hundred dangerous people in this building who have a long-standing grudge against Joel Miller or the man he worked for. A hundred people who would take you as collateral the moment you stepped outside the grounds. But as long as you remain inside, you’re safe.

He just needs to finish the job. He needs to see it through, and he’ll be out. You’ll realise he’s done it all for you.

I loved you.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, he watches the rise and fall of your chest beneath the sheets. He broke your heart last night. He watched you turn in on yourself, your eyes so cold, so far away. He listened to you scream, and inside he pleaded: Keep hitting me, baby. Keep shouting. Be mad. He wanted you loud and furious and spitting fire. If you were angry, you still cared. He could work with that.

And to see you walk away, the fire frozen over, the fight in your marrow sucked out…

The anguish of losing your ire still stirs in his chest. The guilt peels him away in layers. Acid.

She’ll understand, he tells himself, you, anyone who’ll listen. She’ll get it someday—why I did it, why I lied. She’ll forgive me.

Forgive me, baby. Don’t let me live the rest of this life never seeing you smile.

“Stop looking at me,” you grumble, your eyes still closed.

Joel averts his eyes. His throat feels tight. “You sleep okay?”

You haul yourself upright and stretch out your back. Joel studies the curve of your spine and the nape of your neck. You’re the muse painters rave about. The reflections of sunlight on water at dusk. The pond of water lilies.

“You didn’t. Your sheets haven’t even moved.”

“I can’t sleep without you.”

You give him a heavy look, your eyes bleary with sleep. “You managed all those years before me, Joel. Let’s not do this.”

“What if I want to do this?” he says, dropping to the floor next to your bed and taking your hands in his. You try to pry yourself free, but he drops his head and traps you in his rapt vigil.

“Joel…” Your voice is still groggy, but there’s agony in the way you say his name.

“You’re my wife,” he says against your skin. “You’re the only person I’ve ever loved. You’re the girl I saw that night in the restaurant with the pretty eyes and you’re the girl I called every night just so I could hear your voice, and you’re always gonna be the only fucking girl for me. You’re my reason for everything, baby. I need you. Please… please just understand. You have to know that.”

You’re silent for a long while, your legs curled under you as your own husband kneels as if in prayer. Your throat burns with more tears you have little energy left to shed. You whisper his name.

He looks up and you find you cannot meet his eyes. So you stare at one of the patches of skin that disrupt the brown-grey of his beard. “That first night at the restaurant,” you say, trepidation colouring your voice blue, “you disappeared after the second course. When you came back, you told me you had to take a call. Was that the truth?”

Joel’s eyes are frantic in their search for an answer. “Don’t,” you snap. “Don’t lie to me again. Was that the truth?”

“There—” His voice cuts off, his eyes shuttering. “There was a target. That’s… why I was there in the first place.”

Your sob dies in your chest. It doesn’t even make a noise. You wrench your hands out of his, and he lets you, still kneeling at your bedside like a lost sinner. “Love has never been the problem. You might love me, but you’ve never told me the truth. Not from the first day.”

One of his hands wraps around your ankle. “I wanted out. I wanted out my whole life, and you’re the one who made me find the way. Cabrera, he… He gave me an impossible task. I completed it. And I gave you this ring.” He brushes his thumb over the knuckles of your third finger where your bands are still secure. “You said yes. You married me. Doesn’t this mean something?”

The sound of your hollow laugh hurts more than any words you could use to cut him. “It did,” you confess, “when I knew exactly who my husband was.”

He shakes his head, his lips parting in another desperate cast, but you’re standing up and crossing the room, gathering your toiletries for the bathroom. “What happens now?” you ask.

Joel stares at the ring on his finger. “I’m going to talk to the Manager. You have to stay here.”

“Okay,” you say softly. Your back is rigid. “Just tell me something.”

“Anything,” says Joel.

“If I asked to leave,” you whisper, “would you let me go?”

Joel feels his heart crack in two. He remembers the small outdoor wedding, in the heart of May, when he’d seen you walk down the aisle toward him and struggled to find the words, as he always did, that would be good enough.

I vow to love you, he'd said, his hands trembling as he took yours. I vow to be your partner in all things. I vow to show you every piece of my soul, the way you've given me yours, and to be gentle with your heart.

I vow to be the man you want, the man you need, and the man you love.

He’s failed. He knows that. But you smiled at him that day, your eyes brimming with tears that turned black from your mascara, and you kissed him before the officiant said the words.

I loved you.

“I’d do anything you asked me to,” he says, “but not that.”

Joel made a stop at the Continental Tailor before he went to find the Manager in the lounge. He paid the Tailor a bit too much for the new suit, he realises now, the sleeves a bit too tight, the pants not quite tapered. He was dressing a different body than the one he knew all those years ago.

Joel weaves through the darkness as a crooning voice sings something about evil men up on the stage. The band is playing along, a smooth jazz tune, and the bodies around him smell of expensive cologne and perfume and vodka. He remembers with a start why he hated this place so much.

Adjusting his jacket, he finds the Manager sitting in the VIP section on a long curved booth upholstered in crimson velvet, sipping a dry martini.

“Joel,” he says, lifting his glass in toast.

“Bill.”

The Manager doesn't look particularly thrilled. “You know there’s an open contract on your head. Who did you have to kill to end up back here?”

“Just a couple people.” Joel sits opposite him. “I need information.”

“And you're here on more business. Does your consort have anything to say about that?”

Joel curls his fingers into a fist atop the table. “I’m invoking my guest privileges. And she is my wife.”

Bill sniffs in amusement. “So, you did end up marrying the gal. Good for you, Joel. She's a stunner.”

“Fuck you, Bill.”

A short, booming laugh. “Nobody will so much as look her way. You have my word and all it means.”

“Doesn't mean much,” says Joel. “I’m just visiting.”

“Don't be the idiot I know you aren’t,” says Bill, leaning forward and setting his glass aside. “You dip so much as a pinky back in this pond, and you won’t get out so easy. Sometime, somewhere, someone’s going to come to you with another impossible task.”

“And I’ll complete it,” says Joel. “Emiliano Cabrera. Where is he?”

“You really wanna do this, Joel?”

“Yeah.”

“Your wife may be safe now, but she won’t be forever.”

“That’s why I’m going to finish it. That’s why I’m going to kill him.”

The Manager sighs, polishing off his martini. “You know damn well business will not be conducted on Continental grounds, Joel. You may as well go have a drink at the bar, take a load off. I can’t tell you anything while you’re inside my hotel.”

Joel suspected as much. “Then tell me something you can.”

Bill’s nostrils flare and Joel feels some satisfaction knowing he can still push the old man’s buttons. “I’ll tell you what: the game has changed since you left it. Your only chance is to get out now, while you still can. What could possibly warrant the Boogeyman reentering the fold?”

Joel licks his teeth. Your eyes blurring with tears as your skull connected with the ground, your body going limp as he stood above you. The clink of a belt buckle echoes still in his head. If he hadn’t been fast enough—

“It’s personal.”

Bill’s gaze dips. “Well,” he says, “then, unofficially, I wish you the best of luck. But, as a former friend”—Joel snorts —“let me give you a piece of advice. Take your wife home and forget about all of this. I like you, Joel, but for her sake and yours, I’d rather never see you again.”

Joel doesn’t take it personally. “Tell Frank I said hello.”

Bill grabs a full glass from a passing server. “Fuck you, Joel.”

He nods his head, closing the lapels of his jacket and slipping the first button through the opposite slit. As the singer on the stage transitions into the next song, Joel orders a glass of bourbon and watches the bartender slide his drink over on a pristine white napkin.

“On the house, per the Manager’s request,” says the bartender. “Welcome back, Mr. Miller.”

Pristine—save for the small red circle drawn with marker on the centre. Across the bar, Bill raises his glass in another toast, and Joel leaves the lounge, his drink untouched.

It’s a Tuesday night, and the Red Circle is lined up around the corner. One must know someone to get inside, and that someone must be a paying member. Joel had a membership by default, being contracted under Cabrera, but it was revoked along with his other privileges once he had completed his task.

You would hate this place. It’s throbbing bass and flashing neon lights and sweat-slick bodies rubbing up against one another. It’s brick and industrial metal and glass and the people don’t mix, either.

Maybe part of him is hedonistic, too. He doesn’t think he ever used to be. The job gave him wealth to spend that he never cared to; when he met you, he began to understand the pleasure of material things. Gold shone when it hung around your neck and wrapped around your fingers. Diamonds glittered like the jewels in a crown when you wore them on your ears. And when he pulled you close to him for the first time, undressing you slowly, hooking his fingers in the lace panties he’d bought for you and bringing his mouth to the heat between your legs, Joel began to understand the draw of pleasure.

It isn’t that he’d never had sex before you. He’d just… never been interested before you. Bodies always felt… too cold. They were complex. They were things to be followed, things to be killed. They were names on a piece of paper. They would bleed all their warmth and light into his palms and he would return, limping, to a house he never cared about and absolve himself of red. He’d never known the thrill of a body until he tucked his hand under the soft swell of your naked breast and put his mouth on yours and felt your heartbeat bleed into his hands. He never wanted to wash it off.

If I asked to leave, would you let me go?

After the orphanage, Joel visited a church only once.

He hadn’t meant to find it. He’d heard an organ humming from within. The cathedral was taller than it was wide, built for a small gathering. He’d slipped inside during a sermon, delivered by a pastor with white hair and a pair of wilting hands. Joel watched the tremors pass through his face, the agonising pulse of the vein in his throat, the way he would gulp down mouthfuls of water. He spoke with rhythm, with melody, and when he was finished, he grasped the edges of the pulpit, his head bowed in silent prayer. Joel thought he had never seen a more devoted man in his life.

When the sermon was over, he waited his turn to speak with the pastor. He did not know why. He hadn’t felt a stirring in his chest at the word of God; he never had.

I’ve never seen you in here before, my son.

Joel shook his head, frowning at the ground. I… left the faith, in a way. When I was young. I’m… sorry.

Devotion is a choice, said the pastor, taking Joel’s hands in his own. They were wrinkled, speckled with age spots. Joel lifted his gaze to find the pastor smiling. As with all things in life. Devotion, my son, is not a birthright. We must find it. Though it may not be His word, you will know someone’s word. And you’ll find it will move you enough that you choose to follow it. To whatever end.

Joel has been slashed, burned, drowned, whipped, beaten, strangled. He could count the telltale black spots in his eyes like dreamers count sheep. He developed a reputation because he was good at what he did. He was efficient, fast, lethal. He once killed three men in a bar with a pencil, they whispered. A fucking pencil. Word in the Underworld spread of a boogeyman who would take your life in your sleep if you wronged the wrong person, if you were just an unlucky bastard.

Their word never mattered. He’d never knelt in the blood of a victim and prayed for absolution. He would never find it, anyway. His soul was black.

If I asked to leave, would you let me go?

No word has ever cut so deep as yours. How could he wake up every single day next to the love of his life and lie so easily to your face? How could he put a ring on your finger knowing damn well he’d betrayed your trust every second of your time together and you never even knew about it?

How could he wear the mask of your husband and dream of blood on the very same hands that touched you each night?

Joel checks his watch. It’s one o'clock in the morning. You’ve been sleeping since breakfast. You won’t sleep a wink tonight if this keeps up, but it seems you’d rather do anything in the world than speak with him.

He doesn’t blame you.

He found his word that night in the restaurant. He’d followed it, followed you, wherever you took him. And he will follow you, his almighty word, beyond the grave, to whatever end you decide.

He will not abandon his faith. His purpose. He will not throw up his hands and let you walk away. He’s made mistakes he cannot mend. He can’t go back to the day you met and tell you all he should have, rules be fucked. He cannot fix what he’s already broken. You cannot put a piece of tape over fractured glass, a bloodied hand over wounded skin.

He made his fucking vows. It’s time he lived up to them.

Across the street, Joel watches, turning over the knife in his pocket by the hilt. Emiliano Cabrera and his lackeys step out of Joel’s Mustang and toss the keys to the valet. They skip the line, smacking one another around and jeering at the ladies in line, and Joel feels the hunger pull at his teeth.

His first target is posted by the east entrance. Joel takes the alley, stepping aside trash bags brimming with used needles and slipping the Glock from the lining of his jacket. The weight of it is formidable in his hand. Under the cover of dark, he slides into a second skin, black as the names they call him. Bringing the gun to the back of the guard’s head, he watches those huge shoulders stiffen.

“Francis,” he says politely.

“Joel,” says the guard.

“Workin’ late?”

“Why?” says Francis. “You want in?”

“Yeah,” says Joel, “I do. You lost weight.”

“Twenty-seven pounds, if you’ll believe it.”

Fuck.

Twenty-seven guards tasked with protecting the little shit. Joel may have a reputation, but it’s been years. He was ambushed in his own home last night. And after it all, he’d let the bastard slip between his fingers.

“Why don’t you take the night off?”

Francis lowers one meaty hand to the piece in his ear and takes it out. Turning his head, he says, “Can you at least lower the gun?”

Joel does. “Wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”

“Word’s going around. They say you’re back.”

“I’m just passin’ through.”

“Sure, Joel.” Francis offers his hand, and Joel shakes. “You better make it quick. I don’t feel like getting fired.”

“Understood.” Joel slips inside, letting the door click shut behind him.

Even from afar, the music lives in his chest, a writhing thing that seeks departure by way of his throat. He tries to swallow and it wriggles back up again. The bass throbs hard against his ribs.

There’s a bathroom on the VIP floor. As he sneaks by the frosted glass partition that separates him from the public, Joel hears the squeak of locker doors. He puts his palm on the door and pushes inside.

Did you see the tits on that girl? says one man in Spanish. Emil got a pretty one.

Another lets out a booming laugh. Shut the fuck up, man. Good pussy and you tuck your tail and run.

Yeah? And you're in here because you scored?

I’m in here because bitches prefer to choke on clean dick. What's your excuse?

Neither feels the breeze of the shadow slipping behind them. Neither of them sees the man in black lock his arm around one of their necks and squeeze until there's no air left. By the time the other has turned on the porcelain sink and begun to splash his face, the boogeyman has him by the scruff of his neck, fisting the collar of his fluffy white bathrobe. The sink continues running, and he’s choking on the warm water as Joel holds him down.

“Jesus! Fuck!”

“Where is Emiliano?”

“Vete a la mierda,” he splutters. “Let go of me, motherfucker!”

Joel takes one of the man’s fingers and bends it all the way back. His screams are muffled by Joel’s hand.

“Where is Emiliano?”

“The bathhouse, downstairs,” he groans. “Fuck, let me go, pendejo!”

Joel bares his teeth, breaks the man’s neck, and leaves him slumped over the sink, the water still running.

The bathhouse is doused in red and blue. The water is illuminated from within, and the whites in his victim’s eyes glow where he stands half-submerged, toasting a bottle of champagne to his rowdy friends. Joel flattens himself to the wall, listening for the tread of dress shoes. The music pounds too loudly for him to hear, but he can see the shadow before he sees its owner.

“Clear,” says the voice.

When he rounds the corner, Joel drives his knife into the man’s throat and silences his gurgling moans by clamping a hand over his mouth. He slides down the wall, and Joel holds his gaze while the light slowly dims in his eyes.

One.

Two more men are waiting behind the partition, hands folded in front of them. Joel does not recognise them. Their suits are pressed, Italian; it seems Cabrera has made some alliances. Joel lies his first victim on the ground and prowls toward his next two.

They go easily: unsuspecting, they bleed out under his blade, choking on their blood, and he leaves them lying by the foggy partition. Three.

The music is dreamy, the crooning of two voices set to a throbbing track. In the bathhouse, he hears the sloshing of water and the singing of a group of men nearby. They're singing an old folk song, Joel realises. A song about a ghost.

Hurry, fall asleep, or the Boogeyman will come for you…

They don't sound particularly frightened by the spectre haunting them. Joel watches them toast their bottles of champagne and grab the waitresses’ asses. It's Emiliano and his friends, all right. Joel spots another five guards around the waist-deep water and another two by the doors upstairs.

There's a childlike self-assuredness about him—this kid. He thinks he's protected, safe, almighty as God. He sings about Joel and smiles.

A guard leans over him and sneers. “You need to stop drinking.”

“Are you scared of the fucking boogeyman?” jeers the kid. “I’m not! Hijo de puta.”

The guard plucks the bottle from his hand and passes it off. “You wanna vomit while you run away? Or would you just prefer to get shot in the head?”

Emiliano’s haughty sniff makes Joel wonder if a bullet in the head is retribution enough. “Get me another fucking bottle!” he says to his friend.

Joel picks up a bottle of complimentary cologne and tosses it. The glass shatters, potent liquid pooling on the shiny floor. Three guards flank the partition. The music is too loud to let the sounds of his blade in flesh seep through.

Six.

On the other side of the glass, coloured blue and red and slick with humidity, the singing continues.

From the swamp he will come…

He feels the wet splash of blood on his face.

… and take the children that don't behave.

Another man rounds the corner as Joel is tearing the knife from the last guard’s throat. He doesn't have enough time to slash his throat, so he pulls the handgun from his holster and shoots. He crumples to the floor, but Joel’s cover is blown.

“He’s here! Miller’s here!”

The partition explodes. Glass rains on him as he rolls to evade the gunfire, raising his barrel to strike at the remaining guards.

Seven. Eight.

The men by the stairs are shouting some Spanish, some Italian. The music carries on, but the song they're singing has ended.

Joel finds the man he's been looking for: hiding behind a petrified waitress, Emiliano Cabrera looks like a goddamn child. He's wrapped himself hastily in a bath towel around his waist, and his eyes are wide as saucers. Yeah, Joel thinks, I’m going to enjoy this a little.

He locks eyes with Emiliano for only a moment. The guards at the top of the stairs begin to fire at Joel. He ducks behind the wall as shots chip brick from the wall or plunk uselessly in the water. By the time he flanks them around the other side of the wall and brings them tumbling down the stairs—ten—the kid has already run. Joel growls at the loss of the kill and follows him into the club.

With an eruption of deafening music, Joel bursts into the crowd. Behind him, a gigantic LED screen is illuminated with spirals in red and blue and white. Women dance in elevated cages while the crowd below becomes a sea of skin and sequins and sweat. Joel reloads, checks the clip, and resumes his hunt.

Eleven, twelve, thirteen. Joel feels the punch of the barrel into their chests as he fires, again and again and again. The commotion is lost in the din of the music and dancing. Bodies connect and grind and Joel kills.

Fourteen. A guard by the wall. Fifteen. Another lurking by the LED spirals. Sixteen, seventeen—two men rushing him in an attempt to ambush, eyes wild with rage and a bit of fear. Joel puts them down like sick dogs and continues to push through the crowd, his eyes locked on the retreating Emiliano, who's waving a gun about like a white flag.

But it's no surrender. It's a beacon, a sign that the deer is spooked. Joel feels his lip curl. So frightened, he thinks.

Eighteen, nineteen…

Your bleary eyes, blinking through the pain, limbs limp and helpless as he unbuckled his belt above you. A cut on your face, barely bleeding. The red still consumes him.

You were so afraid that night.

Twenty.

Twenty-one.

He's getting closer. The crowd parts down the centre as Joel marches toward his goal. But the music is loud and he does not hear the approach from behind.

The gunshot grazes his shoulder, but he feels the flare of pain ooze its way down his arm. Joel grunts, knocked askew from his path, and turns to forge at his assailant.

The man is fast, though, and rushes him. The tackle brings him down to the ground, winding him just enough to briefly stun, to send his Glock spinning along the floor. He’s taller, broader, madder.

But he shoots one-handed.

Joel knocks the gun aside and it misfires into the gap in the crowd. In the dispersing, he sees more guards closing in his periphery. The only protection he has is the hulking body on top of him. So Joel uses it, bringing his elbow to the man’s throat and bunching the lapel of his jacket in his fist. The guard attempts to reach for the blade in his thigh holster, but Joel reaches down and bends his arm backward until the crunch crackles in his ear. The man howls, and Joel grasps the hilt of the knife.

Twenty-two.

He picks up his gun and fires a shot into each of the three approaching guards, but Emiliano has fled to the first floor. Joel grimaces as he stands, blood on his fingertips where he's prodded the wound in his arm. “Goddammit,” he mutters, following his target upstairs.

The air is dizzying. Hot. Joel never liked clubs. He hated the closeness and the bodies in cages and the way skin felt so sticky, too tight, like he needed to step outside of it. He hated the feeling of being suffocated by strangers, as if any of them could be lurking low in the darkness, waiting to strike.

He didn't understand the lure of the scantily-clad body until he saw you wrapped in a tight black dress. He didn't know the pleasure of dancing until you took his hand one night, his old vinyl player crackling out Frank Sinatra, and lay your head on his shoulder. It felt like stepping over the threshold into consecrated territory. He should not be touching you. But you were touching him.

Joel spots Emiliano running for the back entrance, shoving another guard in Joel’s path.

Twenty-six.

The final man, approaching Joel from the lounge, pulls his gun in time to shoot, but not in time for Joel to notice. The bullet shatters a glass of wine and topples a waiter’s tray. Joel fires.

One to go.

He has no choice but to lunge for the kid before he can run out into the street. Joel’s heart is pounding in his chest, his blood electrified. The take-down is sloppy and his ankle rolls, but Emiliano Cabrera is pinned beneath him and yelping like a kicked dog.

“My father will kill you,” he gasps, his cheek pressed to the floor.

“Your father knows exactly why I’m here,” says Joel, “and he knows how stupid you are.”

“Hijo de puta, it was just a fucking car,” he spits. “I was just going to have some fun with your bitch. I would've given her back.”

Joel isn't quite satisfied. He turns the kid onto his back and grasps him by the jaw, forcing him to meet Joel’s incendiary gaze.

“Everything has a price.”

The knife goes in smoothly, the flat of the blade glinting in his gaping mouth. No light flees his eyes. There is nothing but cold slate-grey. And although Joel feels no happiness feeling the pulse slow to a crawl beneath his palm, he does not pull the knife out.

Your body, sacred, helpless, lying on the floor. A predator’s gaze. The clink of a belt buckle. Joel steps over the body and leaves, limping to the valet and slipping him a golden coin. He slips back inside his Mustang, turns on the engine, and drives back to the hotel.

You’re tucked in the alcove by the window, staring out at the moonlit night. Your chin rests on your knees as you hug yourself close. The lamp between your respective beds colours the room orange.

“You’re limping.”

You haven’t even turned to face him.

“How—”

“I know how you sound when you walk.” Your temple is cool where it rests on the windowpane, your breath frosting the glass. Joel staggers to the small table and braces himself on the back of a chair as he watches you.

You’re as warm and bright as the day he found you that night in the restaurant. Your eyes may be a little older, but the glow is the same. He folds his bleeding hands around the back of the chair. Everything around you curls in, darkens, and wilts when it confronts your beauty.

“I’m all right.” He doesn’t deserve your concern. He’ll swallow any bullet to keep you from worrying.

You stand at last and cross the room to face him. His heart jumps like it’s the first time you asked him on a date. Like the first time he kissed you, his chest taut with tension and nerves and the assumption that you’d reject him.

“You can lie to me about lots of things, Joel, but I know this face.” The pad of your thumb ghosts over the crease between his brows. “I’ve painted it a hundred times. It doesn't lie.”

It's the first time you've touched him in days. Joel closes his eyes. Part of him, the part that jolts back to life under the tender weight of your soft skin, means it when he says, “I’m okay.”

You seem to ponder him for a moment. “This wouldn't be the first time I patched you up,” you say, as if resigned. “Go on. Bathroom.”

He winces. “You don't have to—”

“Go. And afterward, you can tell me everything.”

The pads of your fingers memorise the ridges on the gold coin. The time is close to dawn.

He’s no longer bleeding, and although you have nothing close to the Doctor’s prowess, you’ve managed to disinfect and wrap the wound in his arm. You can’t do anything about his ankle, but it’s a sprain; he’ll heal in time. The mangled black and blue on his tender skin reminds you of a night sky without the stars. It doesn’t seem to pain him. It only makes you wonder what sorts of agonies he’s faced—ones you never knew about.

The hurt has festered in your time away from him. He’s an open wound in the shape of a hand on your back, searing cold through to your heart. The hand sports a golden band, and it reflects in the one you still wear. You don't quite know what to make of it now.

He looks exactly like the man you knew. Not a part of him has changed—he's still scruffy, still tired, still jaggedly gorgeous. You paint him with blurred edges, with blues and greys. Your heart still pulls when you look at him. Your chest still gapes wide open, and he digs his thumbs into the bruises. He lied to you. He broke your trust. And there's still so much of your Joel in him, from the skin to the bones.

“It’s beautiful,” you muse, turning the coin over.

“Technically, it’s not money,” Joel says. “It is currency. They can be exchanged for favours, information, relationships.”

“A hotel room,” you add. “Good to know I don’t have to move any savings around. Where have you been keeping these?”

“There’s a safe in the basement,” he says, “under the floorboards. When I left, I buried all of it. Weapons, coins, contacts, anything I had from the Underworld.”

The Underworld. A fitting name, if you’ve made any sense of it at all. “Do the police know about all of this?”

“Most of them are in the pockets of High Table members. Those are the ones who control how it all works. Rules and consequences,” says Joel, “is how they operate. They're what separate us from the animals.”

You lift your brows. “And who sits at this High Table?”

“Twelve leaders. They're the ones who run most of the major crime families and organisations. They control police, politicians, banks—”

Your shuddering sigh makes him stop in his tracks. He watches you lean back in the chair and bends forward slightly, as if tied to you by an invisible thread.

“So… the girl who serves me coffee on the corner by my office could be part of it.” You frown at the coin in your hand. “She could be a witness, a runner, a messenger. She could be like you.”

“She isn't,” says Joel, “but that is the general idea.”

“But civilians are immune.”

“More or less,” says Joel. “There are… heavy penalties for harming them.”

“Penalties like death.”

“Most of the time,” he says. “And there are rules here, too. No business can be conducted on the grounds of any Continental hotel.”

“Any? You mean—”

“There's a Continental in every major city in the world. It's where we go to remind ourselves we’re civilised.”

“Civilised,” you scoff. “Civilised murder, sure. I’m buying it. And now that you’re back—”

“Visiting.”

You just glare at him, and he ducks his head.

“—there's a contract on your head.”

Joel nods. “Two million.”

You curl your fingers over the coin in your palm as your stomach bottoms out. “That's a lot of incentive to put a bullet in your brain.”

“They won't,” he says. “Cabrera holds the contract, and he only opened it because of Emiliano. He’d pull it the second I agreed to stop looking for his son. He doesn't want me owing him.”

“I don't know if I’d call that a debt.”

“Considering everything I did for him,” says Joel, a bite to his voice, “anything short of killin' his kid is a favour.”

Despite yourself, you open your hand and slide the coin toward him. “Tell me what you did.”

His head shoots up, his brows knitted together. “What?”

“Tell me what you did to get out. Tell me about this ‘impossible task.’”

“Baby, that’s…” He rubs his hand across his jaw, and it strikes you then how deep those half-circles colour the space beneath his eyes.

“Stop,” you whisper. It never used to hurt when he called you baby. “Tell me how much blood you thought I was worth.”

Joel’s jaw ticks. His knees barely touch yours under the table. “You don't wanna hear the answer to that.”

“Then start here. What did you do, Joel?”

The sigh he releases feels heavy. “I came to Cabrera, asking him to release me from my contract. He told me he'd let me out, no strings attached… if I hunted down his enemies.”

Your mouth drops. “Which enemies?”

He picks up the coin and turns it over in his palm. The silence drops an anchor on the ground. Your belly churns with the movement of the golden piece as it catches the light.

“All of them,” says Joel. “All of ‘em, in one night. That was his impossible task.”

The scrape of your chair legs across the floor is grating. But you stand anyway, your head vaguely stirring with the beginnings of a headache.

“Oh my God.”

You barely feel your own hand on your cheek, barely smell the iron tang of blood on him, barely see the red cutting through his pressed white shirt. “How many people?”

Joel shakes his head, his shy eyes lowered, still as the paintings you've made of him. “I… I don't know.”

I lost count, he means. There were too many, he means.

Your throat is just wide enough to let your breath escape. The air you take in feels poisonous. He killed every single one of them. All because he wanted to marry you.

All because he wanted peace.

“Is there anyone in the Underworld who doesn’t know your name?”

Joel’s repentant silence, head ducked as if in prayer, is all the answer you need.

“How did this happen?” Your voice is uniquely quiet.

“When I was a kid,” he says, and your heart sinks, “I lived on the streets. Lived like a rat, mostly, but I survived. You know that much.”

You nod solemnly, lowering yourself into the chair once more. “The Sisters reunited you with your brother.”

His dark eyes reflect the lamplight and it resembles a flame igniting in the depths of the iris. “Found me on Canal Street, runnin’ drugs for a mobster I don't even remember. Tommy was only five, but he must've told them about me. They took me to the orphanage and started my training.”

You swallow, your temples pounding. Deep in your gut, something wild and dry begins to kindle. “They were the ones who taught you all of this?”

“They teach the word of God above everythin’ else, but yeah. They train children to thrive in the Underworld. We were taught knives, guns, hand-to-hand. Hell, they even taught us how to dance—how to move faster than the opponent. I knew how to kill someone before I could read.” Joel chuckles, and part of you thinks he actually thinks it's funny. “Probably why I’m so slow.”

You aren't slow, you want to say. You've never been slow, not from the first day.

The kindling curls and you can feel your mouth pull at the corners. He had only been a child. An orphan. A child had no way to choose, to resist how they were raised. He hadn’t been given a choice—his life in exchange for a roof over his head.

“Those fucking bastards.”

Joel’s laugh is mirthless. “It was a long time ago. I’ve made my peace with it.”

You angrily swipe the tears that warm your cheeks. “No adult should have that power. They should nurture and comfort and protect, not—” Your breath hitches. “You were a child. You didn't deserve that.”

Your fingers have curled into a fist atop the table. With both hands, he gently lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses your knuckles. You expect it to feel foreign, wrong. It just feels like Joel.

“The Sisters were cruel,” he says softly. “But I made myself into a weapon. It was the only way I would survive.” He reaches out as if for a wounded deer and brushes his thumb over your jaw. “They never made me believe, sweetheart. That was all you.”

You sniffle, your head bobbing absently. You don't know what to think. You don't know how to feel. Your own husband has been through the seven circles and crawled back out only to teeter back over the pit once more. There’s an ancient weariness in the black of his eyes, an old hurt, a mansion slowly crumbling at the edges.

“You hid this all from me, and never told anyone,” you say, the ache widening. You find you want to assume, consume, even a modicum of the pain that he's felt.

One of his shoulders lifts in a mild shrug. “I wanted to forget all of it. I wanted to make something of the new life I’d killed for.” He meets your gaze and you swear part of the open wound in his pupils has sealed. “I didn't want any of it to touch you.”

And you remember lying in bed with him that first night, after that first time, tracing a scar on his back. White and ridged, it spread like lightning feelers from the middle of his spine to the dimples in his lower back.

You'd put your mouth to his shoulder blade and felt him melt into you.

What happened?

The silence that followed could have heard the brush of a feather over skin.

I was raised in an orphanage. In a church. They weren't kind.

And that was that. You'd prodded and fussed and he'd said I’m fine. It was a long time ago.

“But that's what you do, Joel,” you tell him. “You hide your hurt and you bury your feelings and you do it all because you're afraid it'll make everyone leave you.”

Sometimes he would wake in a cold sweat, heaving, tossing aside the sheets, but he would never make a sound. You'd see him, pretending to sleep, and place your hand over his chest. His fingers would grasp yours as if marooned on the water, seeking driftwood, his hand suffocating yours. He'd keep it pressed to his heart until the beats slowed.

You regret those times you never pressed. In a way, you were afraid, too. If you opened your eyes, if you asked him to confess, he would close the lattice and turn his back to you. You didn't want to lose him, either.

But you did.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, but it doesn't hold the weight you want it to. It doesn't blow out the candles in the cathedral. It doesn't pluck the scared little boy from the streets or give him a warm bed. It doesn't stop the beatings and the lashings and the pain.

It does not pry the pain from his heart and bury the shrapnel in your chest instead. It is something he bears, as he always has, and must. It is something you cannot take from him. And you feel more helpless than you ever have.

He shakes his head. “I know we can't go back,” he says, tracing one of the little daisy charms on your bracelet. “But it feels… good. It feels good to finally tell you. Even if we were too late.”

The sound of his voice breaking shakes your heart loose from your rib cage.

“Come to bed.” Your voice is raw and used. “Just… come to bed, and sleep.”

He doesn't dare look hopeful, though you can see the tremor that courses through his hand. He wants to take yours, the way he did the day he proposed, dropping to one knee with your palms flush.

He looked a little hopeful that day, too. With rapt attention, he'd taken hold of you and said, I love you. I love you more than anything. You’re my best friend. Will you marry me? Will you let me be your husband?

You realise now why he'd let himself hope. He'd gotten out. He'd started his new life. With you.

You can see his old scars, even in the dark. You think, in all your time together, you've learned his body as you learn the earth you tread upon. The praying hands of Dürer lie beneath the name inked in small black lettering.

Your name.

You gingerly reach out and place your hand on his back. Joel shudders. He does not turn to face you where you both lie on your sides.

“If you bleed on the bed sheets,” you say to the darkness, “will management make us pay?”

He chuckles. “Strongly worded phone call at best. I’ll take the hit.”

You frown, ghosting your fingers over the tender skin around the makeshift patch job on his shoulder. “Does it still hurt?”

“No,” he says, leaning into your touch, “not anymore.”

“You never told me about this scar on your back.” You touch the edges of the puckered skin. “I never stopped wondering. But I should never have stopped asking.”

“Don't,” he says quietly. “Don’t say any of that like it's your fault.”

The silence bleeds as viscous as an open gash into the dry air. His watch broke the day of your wedding. He told you it was all right, that we've got all the time in the world, and you'd kissed him and laughed. He’d replaced the battery since then, but sometimes the little hand lags behind, as if afraid to chug forward. Afraid to let time, of all silly, trivial things, consume your world.

“Do you remember your vows?” you ask him.

“‘Course I do.”

“Do you remember mine?”

His head bows slightly on the pillow. “‘I vow to be your partner in all things,’” he recites. “‘I vow to protect your heart like it's my own. I vow to take your pain, and to shoulder it so you don't have to.’”

The tears saturate the pillowcase beneath your cheek. You fall asleep with your arm around his waist, your hand next to his, not touching, but nearly.

#fic: helen #kiwisbell's fics #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us hbo #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller au #joel miller fic #john wick au #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader

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yandere-wishes · 10 months

Text

ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕔 𝔹𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖

Synopsis: You finally realize that you and Miguel are stuck inside a comic book romance.

Warnings: Yandere themes, angst, the reader has Stockholm syndrome but can we really blame her?

There's something about a sleepless night that's lethal. A loaded gun aimed point blank at your head and your heart and your eyes that are too weary to recall the difference between fact and fiction. Right and wrong.

Miguel should be home soon you think as you stare at the Daily Bugle's nightly broadcast. The headlines are the same as last week's villain attack and the week before that, and the week before that.

'SPIDERMAN REPORTED DEAD AFTER TANGLE WITH NUEVA YORK'S NEWEST VILLAIN!'

You think this is the 18th time he's died this month. A hologram dances in front of you, some withering reporter adamant in his claim that this time. This time for sure Spiderman is dead. A Harrowing claim, one you know to be false. Your lover isn't so easy to kill, you should know on account of how many times you had tried. Back when you'd painted Miguel O'Hara as the villain in your story, back when you were so obstinate to return to a wholly ignorant life of so-called freedom.

Miguel can't die, you refuse to believe that a man like that is subject to such a mortal thing.

You use to try to imagine a Miguel that had grown old. You couldn't back then and still can't today. Because heroes are eternal, or so you've come to believe. They die a hundred deaths and reawaken younger than before. Heroes aren't immortal -that's the part that makes your heart skip a beat- yet death has never had the chance to lay claim to them. Miguel is fine you're sure of it.

There's a noise, a disturbance in the wind, the sound of thousands of coiled webs being used to sling across the air.

A sign that Spiderman has arrived.

He's here.

You can't help but smile.

"What's the old man saying this time?"

You turn to see Miguel, land at the edge of the rooftop. Legs limb as he staggers towards you. With a defeated moan he sits down. Close enough for you to inspect the galaxy of bruises that dance across his stunning face.

When did you fall in love with him, again?

"You're supposed to be dead," you say, a bitter laugh following, the peculiar words.

"I think that's the 14th time the Bugals had a spread on me dying" He chuckles, dry and humorless.

You bite your tongue to avoid correcting him.

"Who was it this time? Venom or Flipside?" you ask, trying to guess which of the two had been able to give the Miguel O'Hara a run for his money.

"Just some kid, from another dimension. Mocoso already screwed up the canon once, and he's damn well trying to do it again. He used Spider Bite to send himself home, so I didn't get the chance to..." He doesn't bother finishing that sentence. Doesn't have to, you've seen worlds collapse upon themselves because a tiny imperfection had distraught the canon. You know why he does this. You know why he must do this. No one is exempt from the canon. No matter how young and naive they may be.

How peculiar the life of superhumans are. For all the guts and glory every hero's world is only bounded by thin silk strings. Perpetually on the verge of collapse should the chosen one refuse to follow destiny's orders.

Heroes aren't pretty, they neither sparkle nor shine. Instead, they burn with a self-lit fire that grows out of control, burning until only ashes remain. Heroes are tragedies swung across every dimension. War-torn children with blood under their fingernails and chipped teeth from one too many close calls. Heroes aren't pretty, nor beautiful, nor divine. They're mangled creatures who come alive at night, staggering across half-lit streets doing what they believe is right.

You've tried to commit this to memory. Tried to memorize it so you wouldn't make the same mistakes as every lovesick idiot who's fallen in love with a superhero.

But sometimes it's so hard to remember, especially when Miguel has been your only companion for months now. The only person you have to talk to. The only person who is there in the early hours of the morning when even sleep abandons you. And he's always there again at night to tuck you in before he departs to fight whoever has broken the few simple rules that the canon calls for. You've almost come to appreciate his paranoia and insistence that you stayed locked inside the penthouse. Although he's grown a bit bolder as of late. Permitting you free range of the terrace and rooftop. A sign of good faith, he'd called. Whilst you'd presume that he's come to enjoy you waiting outside to greet him when he returns from the miseries of being a golden boy.

"I try to save everyone, I try to make sure the universe is held upright. So why the hell does everyone always treat me like I'm the villain?" His voice is raising, fangs glowing in loose rays of starlight. His hands are crossed in annoyance. You rest your hand on his arm as you snuggle closer.

Heroes and villains, what's the difference?

That's a question the two of you have been pondering for too long now.

Even though you doubt Miguel truly knows who he is. It's hard to fall into the orderly boxes of 'good' and 'bad' when the fate of every universe lies on your already brittle shoulders.

He's a hero who acts like a villain. That's what you use to call him. Back when he'd first plucked you away from your ordinary mundane life.Deeming the world too dangerous for a defenseless little civilian such as yourself. He had promised to love you, to cherish you. Back when you'd been so resistant to play the role of the hero's lover. But seeing as how no matter what nightmares he went through as Spiderman, he had still kept those two promises. You had slowly started to grow fond of him

Time and time again Miguel has made you feel like a butterfly caught in a spider's web. Wings clipped and waiting for the inevitable. He's overbearing to the point where his sheer presence feels like a boulder placed on your chest. Or maybe his strings have finally found their way to your heart, coiling around the organ controlling its every beat and pulse. Yet somehow, somehow, you started to desire more and more of him.

You're in love with the hero who plays the villain.

You're in love with the villain who bares a hero's mask.

"You should be more careful when dealing with the other spiders. I hear they're not all as precautious as you." Your fingers trace the purpling marks on his cheek. Sliding from one universe to another.

You know Miguel isn't a tiny spider he's a bloodthirsty tarantula. Yet you still worry. Fear that one day he may fail to return home.

"You shouldn't worry about me preciosa,"

"Someone has to, Miguel, you're not as indestructible as you may think."

"If I kiss you will you stop complaining?"

There's no room to answer, his lips rest on yours, forceful and sweet. Captivating, dominating, and as always overbearing. His fangs slowly sink into the back of your lips. That familiar iron taste invades your mouth once again.

Sometimes Miguel feels like a hero, shouldering the universe's burdens, and fighting for what's right. After all, with great power comes great responsibility. This is what he wanted, he always wanted to be the hero.

But sometimes when the spider's lair is abandoned and he returns home to you, he can't help but feel like the villain. He's protecting you he knows that. Justifying it is easy when you watch dimensions wither away in violent glitching and endless screams, daily. Yet he wonders if his predecessors were ever like this. If the heroes are supposed to keep their lovers locked away. Alone yet safe. A fair trade in his mind.

Miguel isn't quite human, half-everlasting and half-horror.

A dangerous combination

Or at least a confusing one.

The point is he's some sort of hero. But that also means he's some sort of villain. Even the old tales got things wrong, not every superhero is carved from porcelain and ivory. Not every villain is built from ash and rage.

Sometimes heroes are carved from gravestone granite and glazed with poison. Sometimes their powers are self-inflicted curses that chew away at flesh and bone. sometimes the hero's halo is made of barbed wire digging into his scalp and embittering his thoughts. Sometimes heroes kill themselves before any villain gets the chance. Spitling their body apart a million times a day because destiny decided to play a cruel joke on them. Picking the weakest of all mankind to become its guardian.

When he pulls away from the kiss, he lifts your hand to his mouth.

His fangs sink into your finger puncturing bone as he gnaws the stress away. Blood leaks down his chin, spilling over the rooftop. He pulls your body closer. An anchor in a never-ending storm.

You kiss his chin, looking into his eyes. Eyes that can never choose whether they wish to be human or monster. Your head instinctively finds his chest nestling into the cold metal of his suit.

Oh, how you wish you could crack his rib cage open and crawl inside.

Sometimes you think back to the original tales. The ones from your dimension, albeit it seems that -regardless of a few rare exceptions- the stories are consistent in every universe.

The story always goes the same. Peter Parker falls in love with MJ or Gwen, you've come to learn that in the long run, it doesn't really matter. Spiderman saves them again and again. Until the whole world knows that Mj or Gwen are somehow connected to the masked hero. But never once does she leave his side. Rebellious blond or dotting redhead, Spiderman's lover stays regardless of how desperate and vicious the villains become when they start to learn that the story always ends in the hero's favor.

It's every gal's dream to be the lover of a superhero. Awaiting their betrothed's triumphant return. Greeting them with amorous tidings and cherry red kisses.

You think you're Gwen or Mary Jane. Or whoever else decided to fall in love with the troubled boy who has radioactivity coursing through his veins. The boy who was deemed a hero and thus was destroyed because of it.

Of course, there's the other part. The underlying message of the story, that parents all so conveniently 'forget' to tell their children. The disease of the otherwise perfect tale. They forget to tell you that Gwen Stacy fell to her death and Mary Jane is left abandoned, once the hero realizes that his mere presence is a curse. Stories may end in the hero's favor but much like the villain the lover is also doomed by the narrative. That's normal for any hero's lover. They always burn out to cater to the hero's ever-fuming torch of justice.

you feel broken, as you're sure they did too. An unspoken rule of being with a hero is that eventually, you start to lose your sense of self without them. It doesn't make sense when you put it like that but along the way bits and piece of you broke off. Pieces that you forgot to patch up. You've been mending by using segments of Miguel to make yourself feel whole again. It's a small miracle that you still hold a fading memory of whom you used to be before he made you his. A miracle that sweeps through the cracks of your soul.

Heroes never need to fear death, just an eternity of pain. Losing everyone they love, over and over again. Maybe that's why Miguel's grip is so suffocatingly tight. He knows that eventually, not today and maybe not tomorrow but eventually he's going to lose you too.

You're a comic book Juliet and he's Romeo with superpowers. Everyone knows that comic book heroes are doomed from the start. Neither you nor Miguel are exceptions.

Maybe the two of you are doomed by the narrative.

But for tonight, as the moon slowly sinks behind the skyscrapers and the stars fade one by one. The two of you are safe in each other's arms.

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rhadamanthes · 1 month

Text

After hours. Choso x reader

word count : 1,2k words

warnings: sub choso, soft sex, lot of praise, established relationship, domestic fluff, crybaby choso

You lock the door behind, hearing your boyfriend steps rushing to greet you. You give him a stern look, he immediately freezes and goes to sit back on the couch rubbing his thigh excitedly at the prospect that you're finally back home. You take your time taking off your coat and shoes, and then you go wash your hands, you're testing his patience, Choso has always been very obedient to you and you like it like that if he went to misbehave today you wouldn't mind. You had the worst day at work and just need him to hug you, but once again you tamed him too well for that. A long sigh escapes your lips and you make your way to the couch. Straddling him, you pet his hair.

"Hello baby." you say, kissing his forehead.

"Hi" he said excitedly, kissing the palm of your hands "How was your day my love?"

"Really not great but you know how to make it better right ? What's for dinner tonight ?" He beams at your question

"I made the roasted salmon you like with potatoes!" His eyes shine with pride.

"And for dessert ?" you ask, caressing his cheek.

His smile fades a bit. "I was thinking we could go to the italian place for whatever you fancy since they're going on holiday soon." He gulps

"What a wonderful idea Choso! I've been craving tiramisu for some time now, you're so thoughtful!" you praise hugging him closer. His face is in your chest and you feel his dick harden under your bottom. He breathes in your scent loudly, you chuckle, breaking the hug.

"Here, a little appetizer," you say, unbuttoning your shirt. Your tits spring free and you dirige them to his face. He eagerly takes one in his mouth moaning around the flesh. His tongue plays with your bud circling it, while his teeth nibble around it. Not enough to hurt you but enough to make you wet. You close your eyes letting a relieved gasp escape your mouth. The heat crawls up your body and you let yourself grind against your boyfriend's cock. He tries to rut against you but you seize the nape of his hair implying him to stop. Choso groans against your nipple but obeys nevertheless. The more you grind the more his cock hardens, your pussy starts to get really damp too and you consider the both of you ready as you pull his mouth from your chest. You hold his defined jaw in your hand tracing his nose tattoo with your other.

"I don't feel like riding tonight, can you take over?" You ask in a sweet voice to make him fold, but you know that he 'll never say no to you. A moan escapes his lips and he lifts your body to lay you down softly on the couch, he's handling you with every care in the world looking at you with shiny eyes. He undresses you tenderly, kissing every naked part of your body.

Ever since you've been with Choso you've never felt more confident the way he kisses the ground you walk on and worships you every chance he gets. He overpowers you in every way but yet he decides to dedicate his whole self to you and you only. The thought makes you moan out loud, you tug at his sweatpants, wanting to feel him inside of you, it's rare for him to be on top so you can't wait. He throws his clothes around the room and places himself on top of you.

"You're perfect baby, I love you" he says kissing your nose, hands on your cheeks while entering you slowly. You can't even answer before his eyes close shut and he whimper, feeling your wetness around him. Once he's fully inside he asks you if he can start moving, you nod petting his hair that cascades around his face.

"I need you close" you whisper. He usually prefers to hold eye contact but puts your needs first. Hiding his face in the crook of your neck he lets the weight of his body on top of yours. You let your hands go to the back of his neck locking him in place while you enjoy his sharp thrusts. His cock fills your inside perfectly.Choso grunts moan and hiss filling the room with his noise of desperation. Needing to hear him struggle more you bite on the tip of his ear pulling and licking at it. If he sounded desperate before, he now sound like an animal in heat, you love to torture him so much.

"You're doing so good Choso" you purr in his ears, clenching your muscles around his member. He curses and his dick twitches inside your cunt.

"Baby please" he begs in your ear going faster. You laugh at the fact that you're still in control even though he is on top. Letting your hands slide in his back you dip them in his skin going upward. You push him on the side so you two are facing each other, hiking your leg on his waist, humping onto his cock. Your thrusts meet into a sinful squelching noise due to your excitations. You bite his shoulder to extract more delicious moans from him. Choso is close you can tell, he never lasts really long under your ministrations but always makes it up to you by going multiple rounds, tonight you decide to give him the final blow once more. Grabbing his jaw into your hand you force him to look you in the eyes.

"I love you Choso." you state looking at him lovingly. Hearing your words he immediately cum inside of you holding your body close to his. He's shaking and moans chanting your name under his breath as his release crashes through his body. You caress his hair through his high until he comes back to reality.

"I'm sorry I didn't make you cum baby, I'm so sorry" he starts to lose himself in apologies tears welling in his eyes.

"It's fine baby, don't worry we still have time" you reassure him, kissing his cheek.

Choso nods his head sliding slowly out of you as he kneels in front of you on the hard floor, he parts your thighs and wastes no time eating you out. You gasp at his boldness he's tasting himself on you what a dirty boy ! He laps at your cunt, looking desperately at your face. you furrow your brows feeling the pleasure escalate under his tongue's sweet torture. Grabbing his hair to pull him closer, he gives you a few more licks until you crumble under your orgasm, closing your thigh around his face. Choso pushes on your knees lightly to break free from your grasp and kisses your face all over.

"Did I do good ?" he calls your name tenderly, not thrusting your voice yet, you nod your head.

"I'm going to clean you up baby and then reheat the dinner" he beams, you feel your body parting from the couch as he makes his way to the bathroom. You nuzzle in his chest thinking he successfully made your day better.

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itsjaywalkers · 2 months

Text

a lil smth under the cut for u guys <3

part 2 part 3

"Potter, if you dare to step any closer, I swear I will knock your teeth out."

Potter halts his advancement as soon as the sentence is out of his mouth, but Regulus remains tense, alert, shoulders stiff and hands itching to curl into fists. Maybe it's because he knows Potter more than enough after all these weeks of watching his matches and interviewing him after them. Weeks of listening to him brag, and taunt, and flirt shamelessly, despite Regulus always being set on retaining some sense of professionalism.

Maybe it's because of the way he smirks at Regulus' threat, or how he raises both hands in mock surrender, the gesture lazy and insincere.

Or maybe it's the fact that they're alone in the ring, even though Regulus should've left with his crew more than half an hour ago. And the fact that Potter isn't wearing a shirt, but he seems to be allergic to them, anyway, so it's not like it fazes him at this point.

That's what he keeps telling himself, at least.

"You can certainly try," Potter says with his hands still up, and offering a tiny shrug. "I don't know if I like your chances, though."

Regulus narrows his eyes. "You don't think I can fight you?"

"I don't think you can win."

He crosses his arms over his chest as he lets out a scoff, and Potter's smirk seems to grow bigger at the sound.

"And why the fuck not?" Regulus questions.

"Because I'm a professional boxer, love," Potter explains, his voice patient, but there's a certain mocking edge in his words that makes Regulus grits his teeth. "I wouldn't be where I am if someone like you could touch me."

"Someone like me?" Regulus repeats a bit incredulously. He can already feel that one vein in his forehead starting to pop out.

James chuckles, shaking his head a little. He finally drops his arms down. "You know what I mean."

"Actually, I don't. And I'm not sure I want to."

"C'mon, love—"

"Don't call me that."

"—you don't even know how to throw a punch."

Regulus blinks at him, not sure if he's heard correctly, and then he does a double take, barely repressing a derisive snort.

"Excuse me?" he murmurs. "Of course I know how to throw a punch."

"You think you know how to throw a punch," Potter corrects him, that infuariating smile still in place. Regulus is tempted to prove him how well he can actually throw a punch just to wipe it off his face.

"I mean, obviously I can't do it like you do, you're a professional athlete, for fuck's sake—"

"Oh, love, don't worry, I'd never hold you to my standards," Potter intervenes with a laugh, eyes shining with mirth. Regulus face is beginning to heat up, and he isn't sure if it's because of anger or something else. "I'm not talking about a boxing punch. I'm talking about a proper punch."

Regulus exhales loudly, fingers twitching. "Potter."

"Yeah?"

"I know how to throw a fucking proper punch."

Potter raises an eyebrow and he lets his gaze to go up and down the length of Regulus' body, slow and intentional. Regulus has a hard time not squirming, battling against his instincts to keep his face empty, to stop his thighs from pressing together.

"I bet you don't," Potter comments, once his eyes finally find Regulus' again. Unsurprisingly, it doesn't make breathing any easier. "You're too pretty to have been getting into fights."

Regulus is unable to suppress an indignant huff, cheeks coulouring at an alarming pace while his expression twists into a scowl.

"You don't fucking know me," he seethes, jaw so clenched it's slowly becoming painful. "You've got no idea of how my life looks like, or what I've done to get where I'm at."

Potter seems unbothered by the outburst. In fact, he kind of looks a little entertained.

"Maybe so," he concedes with a tilt of his head. "But I know you'd break easy."

Regulus' heart skips a beat. "I don't—"

"Just look at you," Potter goes on, staring him up and down once again. He still sounds slightly mocking, but there's something else in his tone this time. Something darker. "So fucking gorgeous. Holding yourself like you're goddamn royalty. You're feisty, and you're sneaky, I'll give you that, but you'd fold embarrisingly fast against me, wouldn't you, love?"

Regulus gulps, throat suddenly so dry it feels like sandpaper. He tries to shake his head, but his body isn't responding, and when he opens his mouth to snap back, nothing comes out of it.

"You like to act all tough and cold and as if nothing can touch you, but if I were to lay my hands on you—"

"Potter," Regulus manages to spit out, but it sounds hoarse. Weak.

"Oh, you'd break so beautifully for me, right, love? You'd put a bit of a fight at first, because you can't help yourself, and I like that about you anyway, but you'd let go at some point."

"Potter," he tries again, and it sounds a bit sharper, but still too close to a whimper for Regulus' tastes.

"I'd fucking ruin you if you allowed me to, Regulus." His name makes him tremble, goosebumps breaking into his skin, and Regulus has to bite his tongue to stop an inappropriate noise from escaping. "I know you want to. You're really fucking stubborn, and you almost fooled me that first time, that's true, but one can only keep that facade for so long. I've seen how you look at me."

"And how do I look at you?"

"Like all those girls who can't ask me for an autograph without blushing, thinking of me when they have their hands between their legs," Potter responds, gaze so intense it makes Regulus want to scream. "Like your cameraman whenever I stand a bit too close to him, always shifting his body the slightest bit so his shoulder grazes mine. Like Lily whenever I'm between her thighs, and she's begging me to let her come."

Regulus almost gasps, burning with fury but also with something that has nothing to do with it.

The audacity of this man, really. Regulus hates him. Despises him, even. Him and his absurd amount of confidence that has no business being this attractive.

It's hard to pretend to be unaffacted. To pretend he doesn't feel a stab in his stomach by that last statement, by the thought of James and Lily being together, even though it's something he's known almost since the beginning. To act like he doesn't care, like he isn't fucking aching between his legs, wet and hot and desperate.

Regulus doesn't think he completely manages it.

"You're so fucking full of yourself," Regulus grinds out, digging his nails into his arms so hard he's sure to leave marks.

"And yet I'm not hearing you deny it," Potter sing-songs, still grinning widely.

"I don't like you," Regulus insists, raising his chin.

"But you want me to fuck you."

This time, a strangled sound, high-pitched and bordering on needy, manages to slip out of Regulus' mouth, and James shows teeth, that feral light that appears every time he wins a match shining in his brown eyes.

"You wish," Regulus says, trying to save whatever dignity he has left, trying to fix this stupid mistake, this amateur slip up.

"I do," Potter confirms with ease, and Regulus can't swallow properly with the knot he has stuck in between his vocal chords.

"Shut up," it's all that Regulus can get out, which is quite pathetic, but still better than nothing.

"That's still not a denial," Potter points out, satisfaction oozing of him and making Regulus see red.

"I literally can't fucking stand you. I don't think it's necessary for me to tell you that I don't want anything to do with you," Regulus snaps. "Besides, if so many people are tripping all over themselves for you, then I don't understand why you're not bothering them instead."

"Because I want you."

Regulus actually chokes after that, a gulp of air getting stuck in his throat and his heart beating madly between his ribs.

"No." He shakes his head, furiously, desperately, and takes a step back almost at the same time that Potter takes a step forward.

"Yes," the other man presses, undeterred. "I want you, Regulus."

"Potter. Shut up."

"I can make you feel so good, love. You need to stop depriving yourself."

"Potter."

"I know you've thought about it. About me. I'm sure you're thinking about it now, about how amazing I'd feel between your legs, on top of you. Inside you."

"Potter. Stop."

"I bet your underwear is fucking soaked—"

"James."

It slips, sneaking past his lips without Regulus' permission, going unnoticed until it's too late to stop it, or take it back. He has the silly urge to cover his mouth with his mouth, as if that'd be enough to erase the word, the power and implications that name holds.

The reaction is almost immediate.

James' pupils spread out, eating at his irises at a concerning pace. Regulus is so distracted looking at them, that it takes him a moment to realise James is advancing, rushing towards him like a man on a mission.

Regulus retreats, nearly falling over in his haste, doing his best to get as far away from the other man as possible. But James is faster than him, and his back ends up colliding against one of the pillars of the ring. James has his arms bracketing his head in a matter of seconds, and all of a sudden, Regulus is trapped. With absolutely nowhere to go.

"Get away from me!" Regulus exclaims, voice all wrong and wobbly, hands coming up to push at James' chest but not daring to touch.

"Say it again," James demands, completely ignoring him.

"What?"

"Say it again."

Regulus scoffs weakly. "I don't want to."

"Regulus."

"Get. The fuck. Away. From me."

"Regulus."

It shakes him to his very core, and he's helpless to the shudder that rattles his frame, to the way his eyes screw close, so very tight his vision fills up with shiny spots.

When he opens them again, a few moments later, he ends up meeting James' hungry gaze head on.

It destroys the last of his defences.

"James," he repeats in a whisper, heat coiling in his stomach at the other man's intake of breath.

"Again," James asks, almost demands, voice low and strained.

"James."

"Again." And it's a beg.

"James."

"Yeah," the other man mumbles to himself. "Yeah."

James leans forward, and Regulus feels like he's about go into cardiac arrest until James turns his head at the very last second, mouth grazing the lobe of his ear instead of his lips.

"I'll teach you," he tells him softly. Quietly.

"What?" he asks, hardly breathing and refusing to move a single muscle.

James huffs, and it's amused. "How to throw a punch."

"My brother already taught me," Regulus retorts with a roll of his eyes. "And he's better than you."

"Was better than me," James shoots back, and despite this being a topic that usually annoys him, always getting him all petty and defensive, it barely drags an irritated sigh out of him this time.

"Winning one match doesn't mean anything."

"Except that it does."

"No, it doesn't. Sirius' been unbeatable for literal years, and he's worked his arse off to get to where he is, and you'll never—"

"C'mon, love," James whines against his ear, and Regulus has to swallow a gasp. "I'll lend you some comfier clothes and I'll show you how to stand and some tricks, make sure next time I'm being too much of a prick you can shut me up nicely. Maybe you'll even break my nose."

Regulus bites his lower lip, refusing to allow the corners of his mouth to curl upwards. "That does sound good."

James chuckles, and Regulus doesn't acknowledge the way that sounds fills his chest with warmth.

"So? Okay?" James wonders.

Regulus closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Hopes he won't come to regret this, and sends a silent apology to his brother.

He opens his eyes.

"Okay."

#been thinking about them lately #and i couldn't help myself #besides i haven't written anything in like . 5 days #i was actually going insane #anyways this is severely unedited and it's almost 3am and im fucking knackered #so im sorry if it doesn't make sense #but well i tried #and i had fun which is what matters etc #boxer james agenda

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surielstea · 2 months

Text

Strings Attached

Based on this request.

Pairing: Helion x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader has had a crush on Helion for awhile now but feels inadequate when compared to the partners he brings to bed.

Warnings: fluff | Suggestive | Slight angst

3.3k words

The giggling in the room next to mine has me fighting back from hurling my guts out.

Helion was with yet another female tonight— perhaps multiple based on the sound emitting through the walls. Some part of me felt anger, everyone who was interested in the male seemed to get the chance to roll in the sheets with the High Lord while I sat in my room alone, trying to ignore the obnoxious thudding of the headboard against the connecting wall.

I put a sound shield over his room for him, he seemed to forget half the time which left me restless and annoyed.

Finally, at peace with the quiet, I release a soft sigh and my head comes down onto my pillow. The brunette that he led into his room tonight was particularly gorgeous, with long dark locks and beautiful caramel-colored skin. She was from the Summer court, cousin to the Day court. She looked like she'd been bathed in the sun, like not a single cloud had ever settled over her.

I was from the night court.

Born in the hewn city and fleeing the court entirely when Amarantha was defeated after those long years Under the Mountain.

It was noticeable I didn't belong in this court, this palace, the libraries, or the shops. I'd get looks of all sorts from strangers or other court members who thought it best for me to return to where I came from.

Helion made me his second in command after a few years of serving as his emissary. I've been with him for nearly a decade now and my feelings towards the high lord have yet to fizzle away. He's my best friend, yet I couldn't help imagining something more than just being on the sidelines, I wanted to be looked at the way he gazed at potential partners, wanted to be touched, and loved the way the females rave about as they're leaving the palace.

In between thoughts I manage to slip into a gentle sleep, a light slumber that I could easily be startled from. The large bed felt empty like I was drowning in it, like I needed someone next to me to make sure I didn't fall through the mattress.

________

I was standing at my workbench, bright light shining down onto my most recent invention. I peered through my magnifying glass at the inner mechanics, making sure all the gears shifted with each other as they spun. I've been fiddling with the small device for a while now but haven't been able to get it just right. "Let's try this again," I mumble before pressing the button atop the small cube. It makes a quiet beep and my brows shoot up. "Testing," I say into the microphone of the cube.

"You're so smart, starlight." A familiar voice makes me jump and I whirl around to face the High Lord. "You'd make the perfect high lady for this place." He hums and I flush, taking my eyes away from the handsome male and back to my invention. He walks over to me, the warmth of his skin radiating onto me. "What is it?" He tilts his head as he peers over my shoulder.

"A recording device," I say, glancing at him— which I realize was a bad idea because, Cauldron, he was so close. "If it works, we'll be able to start recording audio to put in our libraries for people who can't read," I explain and a soft smile curves his full lips.

"Genius." He hums. "It's not finished yet." I wave him off and press the button atop the recording device and set it down.

"Did you need something?" I turned to him fully, he wasn't wearing his crown or any golden jewelry, just glowing dark skin contrasted with his clean white robe. "I can't pester my favorite emissary?" He arches a brow, and my heartbeat quickens.

"I'm your only emissary." I remind him, cleaning up my workspace as he toys with a pair of miniature tweezers, his calloused hands seemingly too large to even hold the tool. "That doesn't mean you can't be my favorite." He mumbles, concentrating on picking up an even smaller screw from the desk with the tweezers.

"Helion," I pluck the tool from his hands and he pouts dramatically at me. "I was only going to ask if you'd like to join me for dinner, but you seem busy." He knocks on the wood as a farewell and takes a few steps away. "Wait," I look to him. "I could eat." I shrug and a wide smile spreads over his sharp features. "Follow me then."

Helion leads me down the halls of the palace, I still marveled at the beauty of this place despite living here for nearly a decade now. The high ceilings held up by large pillars, the floor-to-ceiling windows putting the Court outside on display in a decoration of its own, the crystal clear lake that spreads on the right side of the residence reflects the moonlight right onto the white palace, making it reflect and shimmer like a sun.

"Amilia?" Helion calls as we enter the long dining hall lit by golden chandeliers and tall, skinny candles. "Yes, my lord?" A kitchen maid scuffs into the room with bright green eyes and large voluminous curls. "I have a guest joining me for dinner, we'll need the table set for three." He informs and the maid bows her head with a soft smile. "Right away Lord Helion." She turns on her heel and shuffles towards the kitchen. "Thank you!" The male hums as she disappears behind the swinging doors.

"Three plates?" I ask curiously, coming up to his side. "Not just us?" I say and he looks at me with raised brows. "I have another courtier coming to meet with me from the Dawn court, but I'd be happy to cancel so it's just us." He offers and I shake my head, hair swishing with the movement. "That's alright, I won't disrupt your schedule." I brushed him off, even if a buried part of me felt disappointed. It's been some time since I had some alone time with Helion, he always seemed to be busy as High Lord— or spell cleaver.

I walked over to the table and took up the seat I always sat in, directly beside the head of the table, where Helion planted himself. A maid came over and poured both of us glasses of white wine. I thank her and she nods before skittering away.

The doors to the dining hall open and both Helion and I look up to spot a butler accompanying a gorgeous female clad in lilac and rose-colored robes that draped over her full frame in long sweeping motions. Her deep brown hair was combed up into an intricate style, and the golden bangles at her wrists clanked against each other as she walked in like she owned the place. "Lady Basu." Helion stands with a polite tone. "Please, my lord; call me Imara." She begs of him in a delicate voice. Is she the courtier from Dawn?

"Then you can call me Helion." The Lord gives her a seductive smile. I was going to need more wine.

Dinner was utterly delicious if it weren't for my need to hold back gags every time the two in front of me obnoxiously flirted, I watched as she noticeably stared at him while wrapping her perfect lips around her fork. They weren't even discussing anything pertaining to the courts, perhaps I was blinded by jealousy but what was the point of this female being here if she wasn't going to mention where her court lies with alliances?

"Amilia?" I call the maid, neither of them notice but the female shuffles over to me with an inquisitive expression. "Can I have some more wine?" I ask her. She nods her head and pours the pitcher until my glass is full again. "You know what, I think I'll just take this." I reach for the decanter and her brows raise slightly but she allows me to have the pitcher before I put it down onto the table. Helion looks at me with creased brows but I don't say anything.

"Are you enjoying the food Imara?" The high lord hums. "I've had better things in my mouth." She teased and I nearly choked. "Is that right?" Helion's reply only makes me drink deeper from the goblet, chugging down the rest of the liquid until I'm refilling the glass again.

The flirting grows so insufferable that I have to take a deep breath to control myself from yelling at them to keep it in their pants or take it to the bedroom. So instead I stand up, grabbing my wine glass, my chair loudly scraping against the floor.

"You okay?" Helion looks to me concerned. "Fine, just tired." I brush him off. "I think I might turn in early," I add and he only nods. "Sweet dreams, starlight." He hums. "Good to meet you Imari," I give her a wave. "You as well." She smiles at me even though she's been glaring at me all meal like I was a threat, as if Helion would ever choose me over some drop-dead gorgeous female offering herself so openly to him.

Helion's fingers intertwined with mine and I look at him curiously, his warm hand somehow heating the entirety of my body right down to my very bones. "Get good rest, alright?" He smiles sadly and I get the feeling that he wasn't originally going to say that, that he’s holding back.

"I should be the one telling you that." I joke as I drop his hand but he doesn't laugh, instead, he looks at me with something tender and wanting, that gaze that makes butterflies awaken in my stomach. I ignore it, giving him a nod before spinning on my heel and walking towards the doors, thanking the cooks and maids on my way out without another word.

______

My hangover was pounding into my skull as I stood at the kitchen counter, peeling an orange as my negligent breakfast. Luckily the morning was quiet, the bird’s song flowing in through the open windows, goldfinches perched on the aspen trees outside.

I hum along to the familiar tune with a gentle smile at the tranquility of it, everything going so smoothly until the smell of ginger and honey floats into the room and I know Helion has entered.

"Starlight," He grins widely as he approaches, his hands behind his back like he's hiding something. I narrow my eyes at him skeptically, wondering what it was he kept tucked away from my vision. "How are you so awake?" I sighed with a slow blink. "It's daytime," He looks to the window. "Should I not be awake?" He arches a brow. I shake my head and return to peeling the rind from my fruit.

"Have a good night?" I tilt my head. "Eh," He shrugs and I scoff, a small smile forming on my lips at his dissatisfaction, something like precedence blooming in my chest.

"I have something for you." He bounces slightly on his heels and I look at him unamused, my migraine slowly fizzling away as he gazes at me. "Do you now?" I tilt my head and he nods, pulling his hands from behind his back and revealing a small black box meant for jewelry. "I felt bad last night, you seemed upset so I got you these at the markets this morning." He explains before cracking open the lid of the velvet box and revealing a stunning pair of earrings. A clear sunstone gem framed by gold plates, the stone dangling from a golden clasp.

My brows raised as I looked between him and the expensive gift. "Helion I can't take this," I shake my head. "Sure you can." He urges me. "You can’t just give me things because I'm the slightest bit upset." I sigh, taking the box from him. "Sure I can." He reiterates and a small smile forms over my features. "Thank you," I say, taking the earrings out of their box right then and there before sliding them into my earlobes.

He smiles and tucks my hair behind my pointed ears. The male grins cheekily and I look at him, with stained cheeks. "What?" I cross my arms over my chest. "You're the most beautiful female I've ever seen." He states proudly. I chuckle and tear my gaze away from him, his expression falls. "I'm serious, you are." He nods his head and I only shake my head and continue to peel the tangerine.

"No, I am not." I toss the rind in the trash, trying to ignore the fact that the air in the room has gotten noticeably thicker. "Do you think I'd lie about such things?" He seems genuine which only makes me want to laugh more.

"You lie to me all the time." I shrug and he looks at me like I've gone crazy. "Nonsense, name a time." He commands and I roll my eyes. "Just yesterday you told me I'd make the perfect high lady for the day court." I remind and he twists his lips to the side. "That doesn't sound like me." He shakes his head. I deadpan at him before removing the small invention I've been working on from the pocket of my dress and pressing the button on the bottom.

"Testing," My voice emits from it, louder than planned and all too close to the microphone. "You're so smart starlight," another voice sounds from the speakers of the cube. "You'd make the perfect high lady for this place." It quoted and I glared at him before turning off the invention and putting it back into my pocket. "It works!" He says excitedly and I glare at him.

"Alright fine, so I did say that but still; I didn't lie." He argues and I huff out a grumble of curses. "I'm a truthful male." He drones as I return to picking the spongey white excess along with the fruit of my orange. "No, you're a flirt," I grumble. "Can't I be both?" He shrugs and I shake my head. "No, not if you're telling me I'm the most beautiful girl you've ever seen whilst bedding females ten times prettier than me." I defend and his jaw falls slack, slightly taken aback at my prepared remark. "But they're not prettier than you." He admits and I avoid his gaze that seemed to be analyzing every move I made.

"Stop lying." I grit out and he releases a sigh, his arms coming to either side of my waist, trapping me between his muscular frame and the counter.

"I'm not. You're out of my league." He says breathlessly as if he couldn't believe it. I turn to look at him, my brows pulled tensely. "Then why can't I be one of them?" I utter and he blinks. "One of what?" He asks, his dark brows quirking together. "One of the females you take to bed, if I'm. So beautiful then why haven't you shown it?"

The look on his face was pure shock, his ears perked up at the sound of vulnerability coming from me. I begin to grow embarrassed at what I just confessed.

"Starlight," He sighs, looking down at me with remorseful eyes. "Those partners mean nothing, there's no emotion. I'm simply admiring an art piece, there's no strings attached." He explains and I wait for him to tell me whatever art I am isn't good enough.

"I don't want that with you." He confesses and I swore my heart stopped.

I look up at him with tears welling in my eyes. I wasn't ready to confess and didn't have the confrontation skills to tell him how I truly felt. I swallow thickly and nod. "I understand," I mutter, dipping my head down. His large hand comes up to cup my cheek, tilting my head back and forcing my gaze back to his. "I want the strings attached, with you, is what I mean." He explains and I blink a few times to make sure the make that stands in front of me is real.

"What are you saying?" I need clarification, what does that make us, what can I bear to him without showing my soul in its entirety?

"I'm saying that I want you, for a lot longer than just a night." His hand slips from my cheek to curl around the back of my neck, his thumb stroking along my jaw. "Helion," I warn and his eyes are soft, this is real, he wants this as much as I do. "I know it's unprofessional but—" He begins to argue and I lunge upward, slinging my arms over his shoulders and planting my lips onto his.

He stumbles back, his other hand coming to my hips as he immediately kisses me back. I smile against the feel of it. Gods, he tasted like honey. I pull him closer, his chest pressing into mine as I balance on my toes just so I can reach up to him. He hums against my lips before pulling back with a knowing smile. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," I admit and his eyes gleam with pure affection.

"I have some idea." He reassured me before dipping down again and this time taking my mouth entirely, my lower back pressed against the counter behind me, his hands dipped down, sliding along every inch of my body until finding purchase at my thighs and hoisting me up onto the counter, my legs immediately wrapping around his torso as he pried my mouth open with his tongue and I allow him to explore every inch, I've dreamed of this, fantasized of this. Every male I've ever been with never amounted to what could've been with Helion, and now I have it and I was never going to give it up.

My hands go into his hair, dragging through the black locks as he presses his wanting hips into mine. I begin to work at the top of his robes, dipping it off his shoulder. He backs away with a restrained movement. "We can wait." He pants out. "We can go slow," he reassured, staring at me with every ounce of self-discipline he possessed. "I don't want to wait," I shake my head. "I need you now," I add and a smile curves his lips— then a soft gasp releases from his lips, looking at the center of my chest with creased brows.

A sudden sort of devotion overwhelms my body and I look down, spotting a golden string, sprouting from my abdomen and tethering directly to his. "Mate," I mumble, the only thought racing through my head. My body heats at the realization and when he pulls me into a kiss this time it's pure adoration, in every movement he holds utmost love and respect.

"You're my mate," I mumble into his mouth and he nods with a smirk on his lips. "Wait—" I say and he immediately rears back. I turn to look beside me, the freshly peeled orange untouched on its plate. I pick the fruit up and split it into two. "Eat." I hold the tangerine out toward him. His expression turns into something tender and he takes the fruit, taking no time to consume the citrusy fruit, handing me the other half and beckoning me to eat too. I smile and peel one slice off and pop it into my mouth.

A sudden smell of arousal takes over the space and as soon as I swallow down the slice his lips are on mine, his hands pulling me closer, kissing me deeper, harder. He tasted of citrus and that fact fueled every nerve in my body. Mates, we're mated. His tongue enters my mouth again and the mating frenzy seems to take him full throttle. He winnows us into his quarters, carrying me towards his bed.

Something told me we wouldn't be leaving this bedroom for weeks.

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glam-targaryen @going-through-shit @fauxdette @impossibelle @amara-moonlight @webecheesy-blog @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogersbarnesxx

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #fanfic #sarah j maas #x reader #request #helion spell cleaver #helion acotar #helion x reader #high lord helion #helion x you #day court #writing #fanfiction #acowar #acosf #suriels tea

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cinnamontoastcrunch-15 · 8 days

Text

Today's @wolfstarmicrofic prompt is a Hospital AU

(503 words.)

CW: Cancer

"Moony!" Sirius shoves the door open with a grin, trying not to flinch at how small Remus looks in the bed today. Remus offers him a sleep filled smile, shifting his weight until he's sitting up. "Check this out." With that, he triumphantly drops a leaflet onto Remus' lap.

Remus picks it up, eyes roving over the page.

"A medical trial," Remus says, and Sirius is so excited he doesn't even notice the trepidation wavering in Remus' voice.

"Yeah! It's actually really fascinating. It's a combination of new medications alongside chemotherapy-"

"Sirius." His voice is quiet, practically inaudible, but Sirius isn't finished.

"It also makes use of a natural environment environment to try to-"

"Sirius," He says firmly.

"Remus, you don't get it." He looks up at Remus with shining eyes, gesturing to the leaflet. "People are going in terminal and coming out perfectly healthy."

"I do get it, Sirius. Let me guess," He sets the leaflet down without opening it, "they're calling it the first real breakthrough in years? That it'll revolutionise cancer care? It almost seems to be a miracle treatment?"

"Yeah. Yeah, they are." He doesn't really see Remus' point.

"Love, I've been a part of countless trials. They all say the same thing, but I'm still here, aren't I?"

"You never know, though. This could be the one!" Sirius tries.

"You know, this is why they took you off my case," Remus says with a smile, reaching out and tangling their fingers together. "You got attached. Isn't that, like, the one thing interns aren't supposed to do?" Sirius huffs an empty laugh, looking at the abandoned leaflet. "Sirius, look at me."

Sirius lifts his head, eyes meeting Remus'. There's an intensity in them that Sirius wasn't expecting, slightly taken aback. His face is gaunt, exhausted by the constant treatment.

"You're beautiful," Sirius says softly, squeezing Remus, hand.

"I'm going to die, Sirius," Remus answers simply, gently.

"No. No, you-"

"Yes, I am. We both knew that going in, my love. You don't have to stay and watch that happen, really you don't, but you- you can't fix this. Nobody can."

For some reason, this is when it finally hits Sirius. Everything that he's been trying to do, the conversations that they've been having. It all finally sinks in.

The tears come with it, breaking down before he has a chance to say anything back. He can barely even register the way Remus tugs at his hand, pulling him onto the bed and wrapping his arms around Sirius. The moment arms are around him, warm and comfortable and safe, he curls up into Remus' side and sobs. He cries until he can't breathe, can't think, can't even cry anymore. He's grieving the life he could have gotten with the man holding him through it.

If only they had met under better circumstances. Like normal people, through friends, or at a party. That way, he'd get to watch as Remus grew old, grown right alongside him.

He fucking hates the universe.

#oh look the angst is back #it was only a matter of time #wolfstar #sirius black #wolfstar oneshot #marauders #remus lupin #remus x sirius #young marauders #moony x padfoot #atyd marauders #marauders oneshot

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agendercrisisx · 3 months

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Can I have one where Bakugo and/or Dabi find out that they're sweet innocent angel is actually a masochist?

Title: The Art of Pain

Series: The Art of Villains

Request: “Can I have one where Bakugo and/or Dabi find out that they're sweet innocent angel is actually a masochist?”

This is such a fun idea, I'm thinking of something where Bakugou ended up joining the league, so the two boys know each other well. Bakugou has been a part of the league for a few years, so he is a big part of the league. And they end up liking you a little more than expected.

Dabi and Bakugou x gender neutral reader (afab)

Warnings: shameless smut, rough sex, the boys are very possessive, oral sex(f-receiving), Dabi and Bakugou has a blood kink, Bakugou is very much into choking, reader and the boys are masochists (like this is pretty fucked up;)), Dabi plays with his flames in you, reader gets used, reader is in handcuffs (not sexually), reader imagines a lot of stuff, use of Y/N and V/N (your villain name), orgasm denial, reader gets hurt, the boys has a fucked up background, fingering, the boys care for you in a unhealthy way, toxic relationships, cream pie,

Summary: You are an S-tier villain, looking for new work. You meet up with Giran, a C-tier villain, with a lot of connections. You didn't expect to be kidnapped and thrown for the lions. The league knows a lot about you and have for a while had their eyes out for you. Just waiting for the right opportunity to make you a part of their "club". You never thought of yourself as a part of the League, but with the opportunity at your feet, you can't help but accept. The offer is generous, and you were already looking for a job.

Some of the members, Bakugou and Dabi, have had their eye on you longer than they would ever admit. And as they finally have you within reach, they don't care for the wait. They have waited long enough, and they just want a taste. And as soon as they get one, they're never letting you go. Not a chance.

Word count: 10144

A bright light is shining you directly in the face, blinding you, making it impossible to see your surroundings. You can hear footsteps, and several peoples breathing in the room. Or you're guessing it's a room. You have no idea where you are, or how you got there. The last thing you remember is that you were at a meeting with Giran, talking about joining a group of villains. You don't even remember getting knocked out, or anything of that sort. You can't figure out what happened. How the hell did you end up here? With a bunch or probably F-level villains. This is ridiculous.

"Aww they look so cute, all confused." The voice is rough, and you can't place it. Maybe you had met these people before, and you had hurt their ego or something. Because this is so damn ridiculous.

"Before I kill all of you, let me go!" Your voice is sharp and the power alone in your voice, would make almost anyone run with their tail between their legs. What you didn't expect to happen, is that the room burst out in laughter.

You can't figure out exactly how many people are in the room, but it's at least five. Likely more. Their laughter continues, making you squirm. This may be a bit worse, than first expected.

"God they're cute, just look at them, maybe we should let them have a look at their new family." The voice is familiar, but in a weird way, something is definitely wrong. Very wrong. So very wrong.

The light turns away from you, you're blinking quickly trying to adjust to the dim lights of the room. Wanting to see the people in front of you. Silhouettes slowly start to appear, but you can't tell them from one another. Someone steps a closer to you, and your eyes slowly makes the person out. The only thing you can really see, is a pair of piercing blue eyes staring directly at you. The eyes are so intense, you can't keep eye contact, and end up looking away. A chuckle leaves the person lips, and they step back into the shadows.

"Will you turn the light off spinner, so this little angel can get a good look of their new home." The light switches of and your eyes finally adjust to the light in the room. The first person you see is a shorter blonde girl, with a giant knife in her hand. Her hair is messy, but cute. She doesn't look much older than you.

Besides her stand a mix between a man and a lizard. There is also a floating purple cloud. A blue haired man, scratching his neck. A tall man, in full formal attire, and a mask. Someone with blonde hair and a scar down the middle of his face. A woman that looks stronger than any person you have ever seen before. And another two men.

They are standing just so far away, that the light doesn't reach them. Making it impossible to figure out how they look and who they are.

But at the moment, you know one thing. I wasn't some measly group of F-tier villains that kidnapped you. It was the fucking league of villains. The highest tier villains there is. You may be one of the best, but these are even better than you. Not that you would ever admit that.

When you were younger you kind of looked up to them. They were all so cool. But as you sit there before them. You don't know what the big deal was. They're pretty basic. Yeah, they may have some kind of strong quirks. But that’s it. They're not that interesting or fun. They just stand in front of you, not saying a word. Like fucking statues.

"This is the point where you let me go." You smile as innocently as you can, but the rooms stay quiet.

"God you are so boring. I thought the league of villains, were supposed to be fun. All interesting and full of potential, you are just a bunch of old geezers. I don't ev..." You get cut of mid-sentence as a hand wrap around your throat. Squeezing much more gently than expected, only making you slightly lightheaded. Not cutting off your airways at all. This one knows what they're doing.

A blonde-haired boy bends down into the light so you can see his face clearly. His eyes are crimson red, enchanting as you look into them. His face is slim and locks of blonde hair a flowing around his face. Framing it, in such a perfect way, it looks like he uses hours styling his hair. Your eyes can’t tear from his, and you slowly starts to notice the small red specs covering his neck, face and hair. One of the locks is a deep red, but not from dye. His hair is covered in blood.

His hand around your neck has you more excited than you would like to admit. His rough fingertip, slowly moving back and forth over your neck. Has a shiver running down your spine. The light pressure of his hand, the way it fits so perfectly around your neck. Like you were made for him. This unknown, beautiful, villain. Makes your body react more than anyone else before. It's addicting, the feeling of him close. The smell of him, it's sweet, but at the same time smells a lot like cigarettes. No not cigarettes, something else. Fireworks? Gun powder?

And then it hits you. The man standing above you, with his hand wrapped around your throat. Is none other than THE Dynamight. One of the most powerful villains in the entire world. The league of villains may be on top. But without Dynamight, they wouldn't have the whole world afraid.

"Aww so cute, you scared angel?" It's the same voice than called you cute earlier, this Dynamight thinks you're cute? You don't realize you're smiling at the thought before his hand grips your chin and pulls you out of your trance to make you look at him.

"What you thinking about? Something funny?" His before so soft and controlled manner, quickly changed to this aggressive demeanour.

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing intelligent comes through your head, so you shut it again. Dynamights eyes are drilling into you, trying to figure out... something. Anything. He needs to figure you out. And soon. Before his own facade crumbles and show you how much he wants you.

"Be nice." Again, it's one of the voices from before, this was the one who said something about turning the lights off... and what was it? It was something weird. You hadn't thought about it before now. Oh right, he said; 'let them look at their new home.' New home? You don't get to speculating, before this new voice steps into the light and your mouth drops.

His eyes a piercing light blue, they are so perfect. It’s the guy from before. His eyes must be some kind of poison, something to lure you in to then kill you. You gaze follows his figure to try and get a profile of this new man. He's wearing a long black coat, it looks like leather, but it’s hard to see. His skin looks weird, but in the dim light it's hard to judge.

He takes a step more and the light hits him, making his black hair almost look blue. And when you look at his face you realize what's on his skin. Scars. They're on his hands, his neck, his face, around his eyes. They're everywhere. But even though they look like something out of a horror movie, you can't help but be kind of attracted to them. It shows he fights. Maybe he would fight for you? Nope, thoughts go away. You take a breath, but a second thought hits. He must be incredibly strong. ...Strong enough to lift you and fuck you against a wall. As soon as the thought hits you, you push it away.

Nope. Nope. Nope. These people kidnapped you. They may be hot. Incredibly fucking hot. But no. You need to get out. And these thoughts are not helping.

"What's that with your face?" Dabi says teasingly, running a hand over your cheek. "There's this soft pink tint." He smirks, and you want a giant black hole to open under you and swallow you whole. No fucking way, you're blushing and getting turned on, by these people.

Dynamight and Dabi are standing above you, looking down at you with eyes, that makes you melt. Fuck they look hot. All bloodthirsty and scary. You try to ignore it, but a pool of wetness is slowly beginning to form in your underwear. You want to swear and scream at yourself. How the fuck is this happening? You don't know them. But you could? Fuck these thoughts. They should die in hell. And leave you the fuck alone.

"Aww let the poor one be." The voice comes from the girl, and you want to thank her, but refrain. Play it cool. Plat it cool. You can do it me. Chill. You take a deep breath and make eye contact with the blue haired man, who has taken a step closer to you, so the others are standing behind him, and he's directly in the spotlight. His neck is rough, and it looks like his skin is close to peeling, like it’s a healing wound. Scabbing and dry.

"Okay, Y/N. Let's get one thing straight. You are now a part of the league of villains. You can say no, of course. But that would just entail us breaking you into a million pieces and using you as confetti above the UA sport festival." He smiles, an uncomfortable smile, one that makes your skin crawl. If you could run away in fear, maybe you would. You actually don't know right now. It's weird, you want to stay. But this wasn't a choice, so why would you want it anyway?

"Chill out boss you're scaring them." The man with the pricing blue eyes says, and you suddenly remember his name. Dabi. Dabi son of the previous number one hero, Endeavor. His quirk should be the strongest fire quirk to ever exist. Maybe you should be nicer. Most of them could destroy you with a single move. Time to play nice.

"Sounds fun. But maybe we could discuss this with a nice glass of whiskey, and me not restrained in a chair?" You don't want to sound desperate, but the fear in you makes your voice shaky.

"I could use a glass, what about the rest of you?" Dabi questions, and the others agree in unison.

Your wrists are still sore from the quirk-cancelling-handcuffs, and your hair is a rats’ nest of a mess, from the strap around your head. You had probably been sitting there a good amount of time before you woke up. And finally sitting in a comfortable chair, has you close to letting your guard down.

The purple cloud puts a glass of whiskey down in front of you, and you quickly grab it to take a sip. The rich taste of the liquid in your mouth has an almost calming feeling. The taste of malt and spices explodes on your tongue. This is not a cheap whiskey from the corner store. It's the Macallan cast strength whiskey. Probably 10 years old. This is expensive shit. Like you knew they are rich and have too much stuff to ever use. But you had no idea they cared about whiskey. Or maybe they don’t, and it was just worth something. Because that shits expensive.

You had seen it in a liquor store once. Locked behind glass, too pricey to even consider putting a price tag. But you know it's one of the most expensive they have.

"Good enough for you?" Dabis’ voice is smooth, and you can't help but smile.

"How the hell did you get this? This is top shelf booze!" Burst out of your mouth, before you realize what you said, Dabi is laughing.

"We do our research sweetheart." You stare confused at him, and he continues. "You don't think it was a coincidence we choose you?" It doesn't answer your question, just giving you a million more.

"Stop playing with them. I want to do that." The blonde girl, you identify as Toga, pulls the knife out of her pocket pointing it at you.

"Do you think they're a screamer?" Togas’ voice is sweet, uncomfortably sweet, coated in honey and filled with poison.

"Please put the knife away, you don't want to scare our guest." The boss, Shigaraki, is quick to let his hand touch the knifes blade, and it disintegrates. Right in front of your eyes. You had of course heard of all their quirks, but seeing them up close, made it so much more real.

Dynamight leans in and whisper something in Dabis' ear. You can't hear it, but the shit eating grin spreading on the both the boys’ faces, has you concerned. Maybe all of this was a bad idea. Why did you meet with Giran in the first place? Why did you want to join a group? It had always worked good for you on your own, why would you want to change that? The questions pile up, and you don't have an answer to any on them. This is nothing but a disaster.

"I have a question." You voice is smaller than you would like it to be, but the room falls quiet, and every pair of eyes are on you. You clear your throat and start speaking.

"If I should choose to join your "club"." You say making quotation marks in the air. "What would be in it for me?" You finish and there's is complete silence for a minute.

"Let’s see... we know you've been looking for a place to join. So that’s a good reason, we're the best of the best. You would be on top with us. A place to sleep, a home. We know you been a bit on the road lately." You look down, shame flooding through you, and you can't really figure out why. You had been staying in abandoned buildings. That's not being on the road. But of course, Shigaraki was right, you need a place to stay. Permanently.

"Also, there's great benefits, we have doctor who can do anything you can ever imagine. You know about our Nomus?" You nod and he continues. "Well, with that technology, we can enhance someone’s quirk, or give them a new one." You mouth is agape, the mere idea of that being possible is insane.

"That's..." You look for the right words. "That's very impressive. But..." You stop yourself, but Shigaraki urges you to keep going. "I don't understand why you're telling me this, I didn't agree to join." He laughs, a genuine laugh, like this is genuinely funny.

"Aww poor you, like I said, you are either joining." He pauses, and the few seconds he stops are excruciating. "Or leaving in pieces." You swallow hard at his words, a lump having formed in your throat.

"Oh yeah, and there's of course the money. You will be richer than the most well-paid hero, nothing will be out of your price range. And even if it's not for sale, we'll find a solution." He smiles again, but it doesn't reach his eyes. This is a business smile. A formal smile. You gulp and you take another big sip of the drink in front of you. Trying to calm the nerves.

You are one of the most feared villains, and you're scared of these people. Yes, they threatened you, and you know for a fact, you wouldn't be able to win against them in a fight. But you aren't normally scared, the feeling is unsettling.

You empty the whiskey glass with one last gulp, and almost break the glass as you slam it back down against the table. Dynamight takes a hold of your hand, and grip is much stronger than first anticipated.

"Don't ruin stuff that aren't yours!" His voice is low, but with an intensity that makes you wiggle in your seat. He lets go of your wrist and you sigh relieved and lean against the backrest of the chair.

"Maybe we should let them think about this, and then we can ask them tomorrow?" The lizards say, he has mostly been quiet this whole time, but he seems nice. Even though you're sitting right next to them, they're talking like you aren't there.

"I don't think they should get the chance to be alone. They are quite strong after all." Dabi says, and the smile on his lips, feels like it has an ulterior motive. Something devious, something you're not sure you're ready for.

"I'll take the first shift." Dynamights' voice is cold, showing no emotion. Not letting any of the others have a say, he already decided.

"Maybe we should be two? Just in case." Dabi says, and Dynamight doesn't say a word. Just waiting for Shigarakis’ judgement.

"Two heads are better than one, and I don't want something to happen. So, both of you have the responsibly of our very own V/N." He puts his hands on the table and pushes himself up. He looks at you for a second, then turns around and leaves. Leaving you all to figure out what to do on your own.

"I'm leaving." Toga says, and she leaves quickly, with Twice in her footsteps, he doesn't say a word to any of the others.

"Yeah, I’m going to go too, need a workout." Magne states, "wanna join?" She looks at Spinner, he nods, and they exit the room too.

"I'm going to make sure Shigaraki doesn't need anything." The purple cloud states and leaves to find the boss.

"I'm going to leave you two to have fun." The man in the top hat states, bows and then retires to his room.

"Just us." Dabi states, and you look up to catch his eyes with yours. The tension from earlier, rises again. You can feel your heart beating faster and your breaths becoming quicker and shallower.

Dabi rapidly switches seats, so his body is pressed up against your side. Dynamight sits on the other side of the table, staring you down. Dabis' warm body against yours is comforting in a terrifying way, you want to lean closer. Let your fingers follow his collarbone and smell his perfume. You stop yourself as quickly as possible, but Dabi felt it. You leaned in.

He is so close you can smell his cologne, and a weak scent of cigarettes. His whole body is so close to you, you want to scream and run. But at the same time, you want to lean in and figure out all this man has to offer.

"You don't get to do it first!" Dynamights' voice is stern and makes you pull further away from Dabi.

"Oh, come on, I wasn't doing anything." Dabi laughs and gestures at you. You have no idea what they're talking about. Something about you apparently. You can't wrap your head around what it could be, it doesn't make sense.

"You were about to, and the deal was they choose. Not you!" Dynamight has this authority around him, you wouldn't dare disagree with him. Dabi on the other hand doesn't seem to care at all, he just wraps an arm around and pulls you closer. You yelp at the motion.

You're so close to him. His warm body. His scent. His hair. You wanted to play with it, softly run your fingers through his hair. Maybe tug at it and see his reaction. Maybe he would let out a soft moan. The image of him on his knees before you, you with a hand in his hair. Pulling him closer to your pussy, making him smell you. Slowly making him take your pants off, so he can get a taste of your cunt. Forcing his head in between your thighs and using his tongue and nose for your own pleasure. Pulling his hair so he moans into you, the vibration from his vocals, having you so close to cumming. His finger running around your thighs and slowly pushing into your gushing puss...

"You're distracted. Something on your mind." Dabis' voice pulls you out of your fantasy. Your lips agape breathing heavily, your thighs pressing together for any kind of friction, and your cheeks already displaying a pink hue.

"Maybe if you tell me, I can fulfil your little fantasy?" He whispers into your ear, his voice low and sultry. You press your legs harder together, why would you be this into these men. They need to take a break and let you calm your body, and your brain. You need a break. From them. Why did it have to be those two who would look out for you? Why couldn't it be one of the others? They seemed nice. They also didn't seem to enjoy making you squirm.

A hand pulls your chin in its direction, making you look up at Dynamights handsome features. He’s standing above you, he had moved from his seat in front of you, to now standing on your right side. He was like a Greek god, to perfect for his own good, too perfect to be human, too perfect to be real. He leans down, slowly closing the distance between you. You tilt your head to the side, so he can easily capture your lips with his. You close your eyes, just waiting for contact. Not caring about anything but his lips. But right before the perfect man is about to kiss you, you hear a thump, and his hand gets pulled away from you.

You open your eyes and look at Dynamight on the floor, Dabi standing above him his hand lit with flames.

"That was not the deal." Dabi says between clenched teeth. "Their choice. Not yours." The flames spread up his arms, following his chest and moving rapidly down his legs, until all of him are caged in flames.

Dynamight smirks, setting off a small explosion in his right hand.

"You didn't think I would just let you touch them and not react. Then you don't know me at all, friend." He spits the last word like it's an insult, his gaze burning into Dabis' own.

You sit back admiring the two men, they both look like gods. Lean and buff. Tall and strong. But at the same time, they're a contrast. Dabis' blue flames and blue eyes. Dynamights' red flames and red eyes. Dabis' black hair. Dynamights' blonde.

Your thoughts wander again, what if you were caught between their fury. Their heat related quirks, burning your skin. Their aggression, making sure you're nothing but a powerless mess in the end. Maybe they would fuck you like that, all weak and not able to fight. You wanted them more than you have ever wanted anyone, and you didn't wanna choose. Couldn't it just be both, couldn't they take a hole each and just use you for their own pleasure.

The thought of them taking you simultaneously, has you weak. Thank some god you're sitting down. Your knees would be buckling, and you would barely be able to stand.

Dabi chuckles and Dynamight joins in. They're standing side by side, looking at you with the most intense gazes.

"Aww they're so cute, when they're flustered. You think it's our fault?" Dabi says and Dynamight quickly continues.

"Yeah, I bet, they've been blushing ever since they saw us. Maybe it's time to give them a little reward? Helping them with that mess between their legs?" Dynamight states and kneels, so he is eyes level with you. "Need help angel?" You stare into his eyes, not knowing how to respond. They took you aback, you thought you had kept it hidden. They may be a bit more observant than you had hoped.

"I... umh... this is... sorry... embarrassing... I... will... just go." You proceed to stand up, but Dynamights hand pushes you back into your seat.

"Tsk. Tsk. No one gave you permission to do that." He smiles and his hand slowly glides down from your shoulder, drift down over your nipple and you gasp. He chuckles and Dabi takes a step closer, to get a better look at you.

"Do it again, I wanna see that reaction again." Dabi's excited, impatiently pushing Dynamights' back with his knee. He obeys and his hand glides back up, putting a little extra pressure as he reaches your nipple. You whimper, and the two men exchanges a quick look, before Dynamight takes a rough grip around your boob and squeezes. You scream at the sudden pain, but it quickly turns into pleasure, and your scream turns into a moan.

Dabi kneels beside Dynamight, and he grabs your other boob. Giving it the same rough treatment, as Dynamight just did.

"Your tits are so perfect, fits perfectly in my hand. How do you think it would fit in my mouth?" The question is more for himself, than any of you. Dabis hand slowly snakes under your shirt, lifting it, so he can see the soft skin underneath.

"Let's get this off you." He smiles and starts pulling your shirt over your head, you allow him to do with no protest. The shirt easily slips over your head, and he can't take his eyes off the colourful bra now on full display.

"So pretty." He runs a finger along the lace, Dynamights' gaze is fixated on the curve of your boobs. His eyes hungry for more, the view of your nipple, or maybe the taste.

Dynamight reaches out, letting his finger dip under the edge of the bra. His finger pulls it a few centimes out from your skin, and lets it snap back. You hiss, and he takes a hold of each cup. His biceps tense and he rip the bra in half. The satisfying sound of fabric ripping, makes him smile, but the looks of your breast, all free and bare. He gulps, not wanting to scare you away if he's too eager. But some god they are perfect, every curve is perfect. Your nipple looks so perfect, he wants nothing more than to put it in his mouth.

He bends down letting his tongue be the first to make contact with your exposed skin. You whimper at the first contact, and he slowly pulls the nipple into his mouth. The sounds you make, has him too excited to control himself. His teeth catch your nipple, and you cry out. The feeling is so intense. It feels so good and so bad at the same time, but you don't want it to stop. It's like the pain enhances the pleasure. Making the soft licks of Dynamights tongue, that much more pleasurable.

"My turn." Dabi pushes Dynamight to the side, and takes the other nipple in his mouth, to give it attention too. His tongue is rough and lapping at your nipple only for his own pleasure. Nothing about this is about you, but the noises you makes has the boys excited. They want to know what other noises they can have you making, what will make you scream? What will make you cry? What will make you beg?

"I...umh..." You sentences gets interrupted by Dynamights finger slowly stroking you clothed pussy. "I wanna... FUCK..." He found your clit, slowly but surely making you moan. "I wanna know your names!" You almost scream as Dabi bites down on your nipple. "You know mine, I... fuck... wanna know yours." The boys pull away, leaving your most sensitive spots alone for a second. They exchange a look and Dynamight clears his throat.

"My name is Bakugou Katsuki... I'm 21... I, umh, I was not wanted." His gaze is on the floor, avoiding eye contact with you.

"I'm Todoroki Touya, I'm 28, I was abused by my father, and he almost killed me." You look dumbfounded at the two men in front of you.

"You... I... I'm sorry... but you didn't have to say all that... I just wanted your names." Katsukis' eyes find yours and he smiles softly, even though the pain is clear in his eyes.

"We know so much about you, it's only fair if you know something about us too. You're going to be a part of the league anyway, you're going to get to know us sooner or later." You don't know what to say, you had your own reasons for becoming a villain, but just by the sounds of it. These two have been through a lot.

"We don't want you to leave, we wanna make you one of us. And maybe trusting us, is a start?" Dabis' blue eyes finds yours and you nod slowly, trying to comprehend what you had just been told.

"Can I help?" Your voice is soft, and the boys heart melted a bit right there.

"We can go to my room and play some video games? Maybe that'll get our minds off it?" You smile and try to stand up, but right as your legs are supposed to carry you. You fall. The floor quickly nearing your face. Fuck this is going to hurt.

Something stops your fall, and you look up to find Katsukis' arms wrapped around you. He lifts you, so you’re back on your feet.

"You're my hero!" You exclaim, but as soon as you said it. You know you shouldn't have. Katsuki lets you go instantly and takes a step back, turning around to face the wall.

"I'm... I'm sorry, I didn't know that was..." Touya stops you pulling you back from Katsuki.

"There are somethings, we don't talk about." He says, letting go off you and stepping up besides his friend. The pit in your stomach seem to want to swallow you whole. You barely know him, and the fact that you hurt him feels worse than anything before ever has. You want to scream, cry, rip your skin off, anything to make this feeling go away. Your chest hurts, the feeling is so heavy and strange. You want the floor to open and swallow you whole. God just something to take back what you said. Anything. Right now, it would be nice to have a time traveling quirk. Just something to go back and fix this.

The burning feeling in your eyes and the lump in your throat, quickly makes you aware of the tears on their way. You try and swallow, but it only makes the feeling worse. You look up and blink, trying to stop the tears. Don't let them fall. Don't. Don't. Don't.

You gaze moves back to the two men. They are still standing with their back to you, talking softly. You're unable to hear what they're saying, but it doesn't matter. Katsukis' shoulders are slouched, and he looks so small right now.

A tear falls down your cheek, while you just stare. Your body shakes weakly as you start to cry. Silently. Not wanting the two men to hear you, too scared to move. Too scared that they'll turn around and see you like this. You frantically wipe the tears off your cheeks with your arm. You look down at yourself and your entire torso is bare, you desperately look for the shirt. Not seeing it anywhere. You can't be like this in front of them, crying and naked.

You take small steps at first, trying not to alarm them. Slowly walking around looking for the shirt. Where the hell did Touya put it? You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to keep just a small amount of decency. You bend down to look under the table.

A hand lands against your ass and you yelp. Touya is standing behind you, smirking and taking a good grip on your hips. He slowly grinds his hips into your ass, his hard cock hitting just the right spot. Fuck he is big, the outline of his cock making you almost scared of the near future. You moan and he pulls a bit away to slam back against you. You awkwardly stand a bit up, but Touya pushes you down over the table. Bended so perfectly, exactly the right height for him to fuck you. He leans down over you, letting his chest touch your back, as his mouth is right against your ear he says.

"You should give Blasty some attention, I think that'll cheer him up." You eagerly try to get up, to do anything to help Katsuki. But Touya holds you down, pressing his hand against your back. You try to wiggle free, but his strength with just one hand is insane. You feel a change behind you, and as you look back, you make eye contact with Katsuki. His eyes are bloodshot, likes he's been crying, but at the same time they're so intense. God, you want him inside you.

"Please, please, I'll do anything, just..." He jerks your bottoms down ripping them most certainly. He stares at the underwear you're wearing, it matches the ruined bra.

"This is in the way." He rips your underwear but leaving the ruined fabric hanging around your waist. The cold air hits your pussy and a small whimper leaves your mouth. He pushes a finger into you roughly, making you sure to hit your g-spot as he curls his fingers.

"This is not going to fit, we need you warmed up angel." He falls to his knees, continuing using his finger. Pumping in and out of you, making sure your wetness is well spread around on your lips. His head dips, and as his tongue makes contact with your clit, you moan. He adds another finger, stretching your pussy. Preparing you for his cock. You haven't even seen it yet, but if this is the treatment to get you ready, you know he is big.

His tongue slowly laps on your juices, while his fingers speed up. They hit your g-spot every time and you can already feel the nearing orgasm. Your former partners have never made you cum, they never knew what they were doing. But Katsuki has you close in seconds.

He pulls his finger out and you whimper at the loss. His tongue quickly takes its place, fucking into you. He tongue-fucks you, then moves back to your clit. Licking it softly and then back to your pussy. Your legs are starting to shake, and he can feel the effect he has on you. The sensation builds and builds. You can feel your high. It's so close. You just need a little push. You press back against Katsuki, and his tongue finds your clit. He slowly circles it, your legs cramp. Not being able to hold yourself up anymore. He pushes his finger back in you, and standing up so he can hold your body weight. You moan, you're so close. Just a tiny bit more. A smidge.

He stops. Pulling his hand from you and smirking as you turn your head to look at him. He lifts his hand to put his finger, covered in your liquid, into his mouth. He sucks the sweet juices off and a moan escapes him lips.

"Fuck you taste good angel."

"Let me taste." Touya is quick to push Katsuki to the side, slipping a finger into your heat. You whimper at the feeling, his fingers are so long. He hits your g-spot once and you moan. And he, just as Katsuki, pulls out. Leaving you desperate and whimpering.

He pops his finger into his mouth, moaning at the taste of you.

"You're so right, this is the best thing I have ever tasted." He looks a Katsuki, and the smirk before both stepping closer. They jeans rub against your ass, and it hits you. You're fully naked, and they're both fully clothed.

"I demand you take off your clothes." You yell. You wish you could see their faces, to figure out what their reactions is. But they stay behind you, uncomfortably quiet.

"Please." You whisper, just wanting to not feel so vulnerable.

The tip of a cock is pressed between you folds, slowly but surely bottoming out. You moan and the cock so deep inside you, fills you up like nothing before. You try to turn around to look at who is buried in you, but one of them holds your head still.

Fuck it feels so good. Filled to the brim by a fucking hot guy, and another one is waiting for his turn.

"It fits, now let's try the thing we discussed." Katsukis voice breaks the silence, and it's the most relieving thing ever. He pulls out and you whimper at the loss.

"No. No. No. Get back inside please." Your voice is desperate, and a strong pair of arms lifts you on the table. You settle down and finally look at the two men. They're naked. Butt ass naked. And they look fucking good. Bakugou is buff, body builder buff. His whole body looks like a weapon, scarred, and bruised. But he looks so fucking hot. His cock is standing straight up, shining slightly from your wetness now covering his cock. It's so thick, bigger than anything you have seen before.

You look over at Touya, he's a bit taller, not much, but enough that it's noticeable. His lean and unquestionably strong, but his muscle aren't as defined as Katsukis. His nipples are decorated with a pair of metal studs and his cock his giant. Maybe slightly longer than Katsukis, but not as thick. The nipple piercings are so cool, fitting when the rest of him is just as pierced.

You're sitting on the table, most of your weight on your hands placed slightly behind. Leaning back a bit, so your stomach and chest are on full display. Your legs are spread, so they have a clear vision of your dripping pussy.

Katsuki is the first to take a step, moving confidently in your direction. Doing a kind of model walk as he struts to you. He stops right in front of you, taking a hold of your neck putting slight pressure and pulling your head to the side, so he can place soft kisses along your pulse. He places a kiss behind your ear, making you whimper, and his teeth sink into the flesh. You cry out, but he doesn't stop. He stops as the taste of blood in his mouth. You scream as his teeth punctures the skin, he pulls his teeth back, and makes small lick on the open wound. It feels weirdly good, not something you would expect, but it has your heart racing and your pussy wetter.

Touya moves next, already enchanted by the show you put on. The way your body struggled against Katsukis hold, but you let yourself enjoy it in the end.

"Let me try." Katsuki switches places with Touya, and Touya is quick to continue where Katsuki stopped. His tongue slowly tastes the blood leaking from your throat, he hums as the taste hits his tastebuds, and he is quick to start sucking. Slowly pulling the blood from your body. The lightheaded feeling from Katsukis grip, is getting worse. Maybe blood loss is serious.

"...something... I... wan... nananana... sayyyyiaaa." Touya steps back, a worried look in his eyes. Katsuki has the same look, and fatal flaw the boys just realized is that they never wanted their one-nightstand to survive, or they didn't care at least. They didn’t care if their partner enjoyed themselves or was fine in the end. But they care about you, and maybe they had been a bit rough. Normally the girl or boy they took home was just to satisfy a need. You're different. You're a part of this family now. You're a part of their lives. They don't want you to die. They want to hurt you, yes. But only if it's good for you too.

The blood keeps streaming from your wound, and Touya says something to Katsuki. But you're too lightheaded to register. Touya steps closer, something like an apology leaves his mouth and then pain. Excruciating. Agonizing. Tormenting. Unbearable. Dreadful. Pain. Your vision goes black. But you can still feel the pain. It's like hell is peeling your skin of sewing it back on and peeling it off again. The pain is worse than anything you had experienced before. You want to cry and scream. But not a sound leaves your mouth. No tears fall. You can't move a muscle.

Light. Blinding light. Oh no. Was this all just a dream? Are you sitting in the chair? About to be interrogated? Was everything just your imagination? Are you back before the league? An uneasy feeling spreading through your body. Something is wrong. But you have no idea what. Something is so so wrong. You can't feel your limps, your body feels like it's floating. Everything feels weird. Off. Like you're not where you're supposed to be.

Hell? Heaven? It feels more like heaven than hell. Even though you have never been. Maybe this is the end. Just floating in eternity forever.

"Hey..." The word is soft, and another follows it. "Come back to us." A few seconds of silence, before an almost desperate "please."

You blink your eyes a few times. Trying to get your vision back. Slowly the room becomes visible. To faces looking down at you. You can't pinpoint them. They seem familiar. Like you know them.

Then it hits you, and you erratically sit up. Hitting your head against one of the others, and you groan in pain. Your vision gets even more blurry after the sudden raise in position. A laugh comes from the right, and you turn your head. But you can't figure out which of them it is.

A hand moves to stroke your cheek, and you lean into it. Finding comfort, in one of their rough hands. The fingers were long and slender, with a scent of cigarettes. It's Touya. He softly caresses your cheek with his thump.

Your vision is almost back, and your body is starting to feel normal. Katsukis' face is still concerned as you meet his eyes, and he moves a bit closer. He snakes him arm around your waist and pulls you closer so he can kiss your hair.

Touyas' hand sneaks down to your waist, pulling you closer to him. Which quickly starts a tugging way. Katsuki pulls you down so you're lying in his lap, looking up at him. Touya is quick to make a counter move, pulling your legs around his waist. Making you lay, in and interesting position between the two men. Katsuki is about to make another move, when his eyes meet Touyas’, and they exchange a knowing glance.

"If you're going to fuck me, it's going to need to be nicer than last time. You made me fucking pass out... from Blood loss!" You emphasize the last words, and they look kind of proud. Or a mix of proud and ashamed.

"I'm going to be nice... but I will... for the love of god, make you cum from pain. And pleasure, of course. But there needs to be a good amount of pain." Katsuki smirks and pulls you closer, kissing you wound softly. It's been cared for, so your whole neck is packed in gauze. But the pressure on the still very sore wound, makes you let out a soft whimper.

Touya groans, grabbing a hold of your thighs and pulling you down against his cock. You moan and you can feel his cock harden at the noise. Katsuki is still bend over you, with his lips making contact with your wound, and the sudden motion from Touya makes Katsukis' teeth scratch the bandage. You cry out, and once again they exchange a glance, an all-knowing glance. Like they can read each other’s minds. Like there is so much you don't know, and maybe they'll never tell you.

“The point angel, is to show you a side of yourself you don’t even know exist. Don’t deny that you enjoy the pain, that you enjoy the excruciating pleasure. The heightening of the pleasure, with just a bit of pain. Or maybe a lot. I think you can take it. We’ll just have to train you, to behave like a good little doll.” He leans closer, as his words makes you squirm.

His words make you so damn desperate, but you fight to keep your composure. Trying to make sure the guys don’t figure it out. Even though it seems like they already have. How the hell do they know you better than you know yourself? Right. They fucking spied on you. What do they know? What don’t they know? It’s a weird question. How much can someone you have just met know about you, but at the same time. They’re in the league of villains. They could probably get all the information in the world, if they wanted.

“Someone’s excited, huh?” Katsuki says with his face right above yours, you stare into his crimson red eyes. They’re so intense, studying your face, remembering every detail, getting all your secrets from just your face. You’re breathless as he keeps looking, your heart beats faster, your breath gets shallow, you get nervous. It’s so intense, nothing like anything you have experienced before. How can a look have you feeling so much? How can his eyes have you feeling so desperate?

“Maybe we should help them out of this?” Touya says and breaks the moment between you and Katsuki. You acknowledge what you’re wearing, it’s a big black shirt with a white skull on it, it must be one of theirs, cause it’s definitely not yours. It doesn’t take long for you to realize, you’re not wearing any underwear. Which mean Touya has had free access to your pussy this whole time. You gulp and your eyes meet his, he’s smirking knowing exactly what you’re thinking.

“Is this what you want me to do.” He reaches a hand down to your cunt, slowly inserting one of his digits. You whimper, as his one finger slowly suit the ache in your core.

“God your soaked, you think I can just,” He slips another finger in easily, and you moan at the feeling of getting stretched on his long digits. A smile curls his lips, he’s got an idea. And probably not a nice one.

“What?” You express, trying to figure out what he’s thinking. But you can’t read a single of his emotions.

“Oh, just a little test.” His smirk gets bigger, and a quick burst of heat spread in your pussy. You moan and look down to figure out what just happened. It happens again. A hot burst of warmth, on the edge of pain. But it stops just before it hurts. You move up on your elbows, to look down at Touyas fingers. The feeling comes again, and you see light coming from your cunt.

That fucking bastard. He’s using his quirk. In You. He’s playing with his flames in your pussy. The fucking problem is… that it feels good. How the hell does that feel good? Don’t tell him. Don’t admit that what he’s doing is working.

It doesn’t matter, he already knows. A knowing grin on his face. As he does it again, and he can feel your pussy clench around his finger. You whimper as the flames stay a little longer this time, starting to burn. But even though it should hurt like, hell. The feeling is amazing. The pain, it makes his fingers feels so much better.

You look up at Katsukis’ face, his eyes are focused on where Touya is penetrating you. Staring at your drenched pussy. He licks his lips, and his gaze moves to catch yours.

“Maybe we should finally do the thing we talked about?” He is clearly talking to Touya, the two men’s gazes are on you, but they’re talking like you’re not there.

“Lets.” Touya responds and withdraws his fingers, as you whimper at the loss. Touya stand up, quickly making work of his clothes, and laying down on his back. His legs are bended over the edge of the bed, clearly a plan in mind, but you can’t figure it out. His cock stands straight up, making you gulp at the sheer size. Oh, to have him inside you.

“Get on angel.” Touya commands, and you don’t waste any time to get on. “No, the other way.” You obey and get on cowgirl style, facing Touya. You grab his cock making his tip hit the outside of your pussy. You slowly sink down, moan and whimpering as he lets you take it at your own speed. When you’ve gotten halfway, you stop. You feel so full, there is no way in hell that you’re getting him the rest of the way in.

“Come on angel, a little more.” You whimper as you press yourself down, only get a little bit more. Not near enough for him to bottom out. “You gotta do everything yourself.” He mumbles and takes a hold of your hips. “Deep breath.” He states to you, and you do as he says. He thrust his hips into you, bottoming out. You scream as his cock hits your cervix, and you fall forward following the rough treatment. You’re gasping for air. You feel so fucking full, like you’re getting split down the middle.

“Your turn.” Touya declares, and before you get to react, you can feel a presence behind you. Katsuki bends down, putting his lips next to your ear.

“This is gonna hurt, but your gonna enjoy it.” He whispers against your ear, and he stands back straight. He presses a hand down on your back, your pussy is filled with Touya, but he doesn’t seem to care. He presses his tip against you pussy, making you whimper as he presses the tip in. You scream. Fuck your full, and he is not even half in. God they can’t both fit. It’s not going to fit. It’s just not.

“It’s not gonna fit.” You whimper, but Katsuki just chuckles.

“I’ll make it fit angel, don’t worry.” You can’t protest, it feels so good. So, fucking good. But god, they’re going to tear you in half. They’re going to kill you. But fuck that. You’re going out at the top. You’re going out screaming. Hopefully in pleasure.

“Angel will make it feel good, just relax.” The soft grip of Touyas' hand around you chin as he says his calming words, makes you relax. Okay, okay. This is going to be okay. No need to worry.

You scream as Katsuki slams into you, bottoming out in a single thrust. You’re gasping and on the verge of tears. Fuck it feels good. But god it hurts. You are being stretched in a way, that’s not human. Not normal. This wasn’t on your to do list last year. Not even yesterday. This was never something you had even thought of trying, but the feeling of being so full. Getting stretched so good. You never wanna stop.

The switch wasn’t something you expected. You want to continue, this isn’t something you don’t want to do. This is something that’s perfect for the situation. But good you’re not sure they’ll be able to move. You’re filled to the brim. They should be able to move, it is probably not possible.

Katsukis voice is low, a soft groan escaping his lips. He’s trying to control his breathing, he’s doing everything in his power not to cum right there. In your tight, wet pussy. Fuck he has never felt something so good. You’re perfect. Perfect for them. Their good little angel.

“You need more time to adjust?” Touyas’ voice is soft, he cares, he brushes a lock of hair out of your face. You shake your head, and a smile wider than anything you have seen before, breaks out on his face.

“Good doll.” Katsukis’ hand reaches around and grabs your throat, pulling you up. As your sit up Touyas cock hits your cervix again, and you moan at top volume. Katsukis’ hand presses harder at you throat and you quiet down.

“You want the whole building to hear?” He chuckles, and a rush of embarrassment floods over you.

“They can hear us?” You say barely above a whisper. The boys laugh, and their unison decision is to pump their cocks further into you. You scream, and you’re sure everybody is going to be able to hear you. But the feeling of the boys’ cocks, make you not give a fuck. And so what if someone hear? They can enjoy your moans, and if it bothers them, then they can leave.

“What did you think about?” Touya pulls you out of the thought, you blush and look down.

“Oh… nothing.”

“Right, nothing, cause “nothing” makes you clench around us like your life depends on it.” His voice makes you even more embarrassed.

“We’re not shaming you, we just wanna know, maybe we can fulfil the fantasy?” Katsuki continues and you mumble something none of them hears.

“Speak up angel, you gotta speak up.” Touya commands in a soft voice, but you know you don’t have a choice.

“I… Was Thinking About Other Hearing Us!” You yell as quickly as possible, closing your eyes and pretending to now exist. The boys are quiet for a second, before Katsuki pulls you head back so he can look down at you, as your head is bend backwards.

“You want someone to hear? What about watch? They don’t get to touch, but they can look. They can look at us fuck you, and hope they get a turn. But they won’t cause your ours, get that?” You nod eagerly, he takes a hold of your hair and pulls your further back. You instinctively open your mouth, and he smirks.

“You gotta answer angel, you want someone to watch? Look at your perfect body. Look at how well you take our cocks?” Touya elaborates. You think for a few seconds, as you debate the pros and cons. It would be fucking hot, you would be off limits, maybe they would like just watching. But to be on display? Maybe it would just be weird. You like they idea. But would you like the real thing?

“I don’t know.” You admit, and the feeling of failure washes over you.

“That’s not a problem, we’ll figure it out. We can try it at some point, not now. Now it’s just and your sweet pussy.” Katsuki let’s go of your hair and lets you look down at Touya. His eyes are dark, his normally so light blue eyes, have turned almost black as he looks at you. He looks hungry, like he can’t wait for whatever is about to happen.

“Ready?” Katsuki says, and you’re just about to nod, as you realize he’s talking to Touya.

“More than, you wanna start?” Touya ask, and before you hear an answer Katsuki pull almost all the way out, and then slams back in you. You scream and a groan comes from Touya as you clench around them.

“I wasn’t ready.” You say between clenched teeth, and Katsuki just chuckles.

“No one asked you angel.” He grins and pulls out again, just slam back in few seconds after. You can feel every vein on his cock, and as his tip hits your g-spot you scream.

“Do I really feel that good?” You know Katsuki is smirking behind you as he says it, and you clench consciously just to make the two boys’ groan.

“Fuck you, that’s mean.” Katsuki gasp and grabs your neck to pull you back again, so he can stare into your eyes.

“Oh really? Cause I just did the same thing as you.” You smile innocently and Katsukis gaze darkens. The intensity in his eyes’ doubles, and maybe teasing him was a bad idea. Because whatever that’s on its way now, is going to turn you into a mess.

“I’m not waiting, we gotta fuck the brat out of them.” He remarks, and as soon as that’s said. He sets a rapid speed pounding into you, as you scream and clench around him. It doesn’t take long for Touya to do that same and start fucking up into you. Their rhythms aren’t the same and it’s worse than if it were. One of them is always hitting your g-spot or your cervix. You’re screaming and the tears are welling up in your eyes. It feels so fucking good, you can’t speak, can’t think. You can’t do anything but take it and scream. The tears have begun to stream down your cheeks, as you whimper and moan.

Their speed doesn’t slow. Their stamina is inane, like machines they just keep it on. You want to stop, want to take a break, but no. You can take this. Take their cocks. Nothing is making you retreat. You got what you wanted. You got them both to fuck you like mad men. And it’s better than you ever imagined. Maybe they are mad man. Not many villains aren’t. But these are your mad men. These two are yours. Your property.

You scream as they keep pumping their cocks in you. You can feel your orgasm nearing. This is going to ruin you. You whole body is tense, your legs are shaking and cramping. You heart is beating at an insane speed. You’re gasping and moaning, barely able to breathe. The tension and the heat building in your abdomen, is such a familiar feeling. But this isn’t going to be a normal orgasm. This one is going to ruin you. These two men are running you. No one will ever be able to touch you like them. No one will ever have that effect on you.

Katsuki and Touya can feel you clenching around them, they know exactly what’s on its way. And they’re not going to stop. Not if you beg, you’re theirs now and you’re going to take everything they have to give. But it may not be today, because both of the boys are already close too. Your moans and whimpers, making them more excited than expected.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You moan, “I’m gonna cum. FUCK!” You almost scream as Touya touches your clit and gently roll it between his fingers.

“Cum for us angel.” That all you need, and you let the orgasm come. You scream and clench as your pussy starts to pulse and cream around their cocks as your orgasm just keeps coming. Your legs are cramping and shaking, and Katsuki must hold them still, so you don’t move too much. Your heart is pounding, and your vision goes white for a second as another wave of your high hits you. You roll your hips against Touyas hips, but none of the boys stop their rhythm, still pumping into you. Making your orgasm never ending.

As you clench a final time around them and fall forward, Katsuki can’t hold it anymore. He cums hard, filling you with his cum, painting your wall white. Stuffing you, and with a final groan he calms down too.

“Please cum in me.” You moan against Touyas’ ear, and he doesn’t need to be told twice. He fills your pussy even more. He thrust hard into you one last time as his last spurt comes, and he’s done too.

Their cum is leaking from you, you pussy is gaping as the two boy pulls out. Leaving you in the bed, whimpering and spent. Katsuki lays down beside you, pulling you into his arms.

“I need to get something from my room, be back in two.” You barely acknowledge Touya leaving, you head is mush. And you can’t even say thank you to Katsuki, you just lay in his arms waiting for Touya to come back.

Touya steps into the room, something in his hand, but you don’t have the energy to really look at it, to figure out what it is.

“Lay still.” Touyas' voice is soft, and something cold is pressed against you pussy. You’re sore and something being pushed into you has you whimpering and crying out. The cold thing gets pushed all the way in. It wasn’t big, just enough to plug your hole.

“Perfect, now everything will stay inside.” Touya chuckles and Katsuki kisses your hair.

“Was it good to be filled by us?” Katsuki asks and you nod, too tired to talk. And before long you're off to dreamland. Dreaming of getting creampied by your two new favourite people.

Thank you so much for reading this, I'm really happy with how it turned out. It's like my favourite work ever. I hope you enjoyed it. It ended up being a little longer than expected *awkward laugh* Also, have an amazing day, love ya<3 I was kind of thinking about writing the back story to Bakugou. So, we get an inside in what happened and how he turned into a villain. I have some ideas, I was just wondering if people actually wanted to read that? And maybe a second chapter of this one?

Edit: I'm working on the second chapter, because a few people asked for another. So to please the people, in hopefully a few days there will be a second chapter.

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pandoa · 1 year

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smile with me!!

where they see you, who is never one to show much emotion, smile for the first time

~feat. cater diamond, azul ashengrotto, rook hunt, and lilia vanrouge~ twisted wonderland x gender neutral reader

~headcanons~

a lot of you guys chose this in the poll i posted earlier, so here it is~ i chose which characters to include btw- have fun lolol

cater diamond sees you smile for the first time when he is mindlessly taking candid photos of the both of you together. it happens when you're looking at the adorable plushies featured at a themed café that had just opened up within the isle of sages. cater had wanted to visit it "for the aesthetics" and decided to bring you along simply for the fun of it. although he would never expect the surprise he felt when he saw a bright smile form on your charming face as he spam-clicked the camera button on his phone, taking random candids of the two of you as your eyes seemed to light up at the small, little plushies that came hugging the straws of your drinks. at first, the young man couldn't believe his eyes; you weren't exactly the type to reveal much emotion, let alone actually smile. but as a light giggle escaped your mouth as you took your own pictures of the soft stuffed animals, cater had realized how lucky—and special—he was for you to be comfortable enough to show your real emotions around him.

"Prefect! Oh my Sevens!"

"Look at these tiny plushies that come with our drinks! They look so so. . . cute?"

"Hm? Oh, it's nothing. The pictures I just took of us came out adorably~"

"Of course I already took photos! You never know when one pic can be the photo that's Magicam-perfect. But don't worry; I won't be posting these on Magicam."

"Why? Because they're too special to showcase to the internet, silly~ Oh yeah! And (Y/n), before I forget—"

"You have a precious smile~"

azul ashengrotto sees you smile when you let out a dazed sigh of satisfaction while performing for an audience at mostro lounge. it was an odd time for you to smile, actually. given the debt you were in with his business, azul was sure you would be anything but happy at the damages your little cat familiar had caused—which was why you were there now, performing in front of an audience full of students to make up for the debt you and grim were inevitably in. although, since it was your final performance for the week, the man supposed a little relief on your part was granted. he just didn't think he'd finally see a wide grin from your usually blank face shine and fill the room as the lounge's spotlight continued to glimmer above you. crowds of applause played throughout the room, whistling of some audience members sang in admiration, and you bowed, satisfied with your final performance. azul had even caught the chatter of some students sitting near him gushing over your radiance on the lounge's makeshift stage. but he had to admit... he, too, felt something small tug within his heart the moment you displayed a smile that could catch the attention of anyone around you. it was strange, but he would consider himself lucky for getting the chance to see it that day.

"Well done today, (Y/n)! Here, have a sip of some water for your efforts—no charge included."

"Sales were especially successful tonight and I am proud to say that if you keep this up, you and Grim will be free of debt sooner than originally planned. I trust that you will keep up the good work."

"Tips left for you are in that jar on top of the counter, along with some comments and notes left by the audience."

"You did well, Prefect."

"Oh and, if you feel comfortable in doing so, please keep on doing what you did today whenever you perform here."

"That smile of yours is very charming, if you did not know."

rook hunt spots a smile slowly escaping the corners of your face as he gently applies a soft shade of lip tint to your lips that matches your complexion. you were on your usual visit to pomefiore—off to go see the eccentric huntsman in his dorm room—when the man had suggested that he give you a little makeover with the new products vil had given him earlier that day. the young hunter seemed quite excited about the whole ordeal, so how could you refuse? giddily sitting you down on a seat in front of his dorm's mirror, rook had begun to apply shades of makeup gradually, delicately holding your face close to his to get a more detailed view of the cosmetics painting your cheeks. the man was completely focused on the strokes of his brush until he caught sight of a small, but enchanting smile, gracing your typically neutral expression when he had been applying a layer of lip tint to your face. any expression—or lack thereof—of yours was already spellbinding to him, but this time it had been different. this time, rook could have sworn he felt all the troubles of the world dissipate into thin air as the room seemed just a bit more brighter with your smiles filling each corner of the hunter's heart, making him endlessly fawn and ramble over how angelic you had looked at that moment.

"Mon ange! My, how most dazzling you are today!"

"Your beauty is always a sight to behold, however, today you are gleaming so incandescently! I must be careful; I may go blind by your shinning glow."

"Surely you see it as well, mon trésor. The way your existence illuminates tenfold whenever you bless the world with your joy."

"Your smile is something I wish to never be taken away from you."

lilia vanrouge catches your smile as he sneaks up to you in surprise, melodic laughter coming from your form following right after. just as he had caught you off guard, he was surprised as well seeing as you had never reacted that expressively the other times he had magically sprung up in front of you, hair oddly hanging from his head and body upside down as lilia's figure floated above you. perhaps it was the adorable way his cheeks had seemed to squish together as it gravitated down to the ground that had caused you to laugh so happily. or perhaps it was the cute, little "boo!" that came out of his lips that made you jump up, pleasantly astounded. either way, whatever reason you had that caused you to be so amused had lilia grinning as well in satisfaction. your rare smile had simply looked so endearing; it was like an unknown force was pushing against the third year—calling him to treasure and protect this emotion of yours at all costs. the specialness of your joy made the heart of this old fae flutter at the loveliness you had shown only to him that day.

"Boo!!"

"Ah, my apologies, Prefect, I did not mean to startle you too mu—"

"Hm? Oh? It's alright? My, that was unexpected, if I may be completely honest."

"Nothing to worry about, dearest (Y/n)~ I just want to engrave this moment into my mind for eternity, hehe."

"Why? To remember the sights of the first smile you had given me, of course~"

"That right there is something quite special to treasure in itself, wouldn't you say so, dear?"

a/n: believe it or not, my motivation for writing this came from people seeing my face for the first time after wearing a mask ever since 2020 (but extremely romanticized ofc lolol)

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #cater diamond #cater diamond x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #♢the scribe♢

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daisyblog · 3 months

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Comfort Zone

My Drummer Masterlist Summary: YN opens Wembley Night 1.

Based on this request.

"Have fun out there, baby!". Harry smiles as he watches YN fiddle with her in ears.

Harry had given each member of the Love Band a chance to open one of his Wembley shows. YN was opening tonight's show, the first one at Wembley. They're both standing backstage, minutes before YN is due to walk out on stage.

Taking a deep breath, to calm her never ending nerves, YN shyly smiles up at Harry's taller frame. "Thank you, gorgeous! Are you going to be watching?".

"Of course I'm going to be watching my girl!". He leaves YN to go with a bunch of kisses and 'I love you's'. Harry makes his way through the hallways of the stadium to an area where he could watch YN perform. Jeff, Brad and other members of the band joining him.

Mitch and Sarah follow YN out to the large stage as YN's introduction video plays, Mitch heading towards his guitar and Sarah finding her new position in YN's regular place.

"Hello Wembley!". She greets the large crowd who roars with cheers, as YN stands at the front of the stage. "I'm YN and I'm so happy to be able to perform for you this evening.".

There's loud screams and fans jumping and running around in the pit area, and from her place on the stage she can see that Harry is stood behind one of the barriers.

"Before we start tonight, I'd like to explain something.". YN's grip on the microphone loosens slightly as she becomes less nervous. "I'm usually sat back there, behind the drums.". The crowd roared once again. "But Harry said I need to get out of my comfort zone...try something new.". YN let out a little giggle, when she heard a loud whistle that she knew came from her boyfriends lips. "So that mean't no drum playing.". A loud boo came from a few fans at the front barricade, making YN laugh. "But can we give a big cheer for Sarah who I've been teaching how to play just so she could play for me this evening!".

---

"Uh…the first song I’m gonna sing is called ‘Never Loved Anyone Before’” There was a mixture of awe’s and cheers from the fans. “It’s a bit raw…but it’s about loving someone special, who’s supported you through your hardest times.”.

Sometimes I think I was born on the day that I met you Spent all of my days, all my nights praying you never let me go I hate to admit that I still got some shit from my fucked up past But you've managed to break down my walls

You love me so much, it gave me enough Enough to finally have the guts to love myself Thought that I'd been deep, yeah, I could've sworn But everything you are to me is so much more You made me realise that I've never loved anyone before You made me realise that I've never loved anyone before

The only complaint that I got is that I'm fucking scared now The fact that with you, I have so much to lose, got me terrified And if the world ends, and it pulls us apart then you know I promise To find you wherever you are

Harry watched and listened at the words. It was the first time hearing YN sing the song she had secretly written. It caused a lump in his throat as the lyrics pulled on his heart strings. YN was known to hide behind her feelings but tonight she had allowed a whole stadium know how she felt. A smile appeared on Harry’s face, the proudness he felt shining through.

---

“Okay…Wembley! The next one I’m gonna sing is ‘This Is The Life’ by Amy Macdonald…I’ve seen a lot of you use this one on TikTok for some of the shows and I want you all to sing and dance!”.

Oh, the wind whistles down The cold dark street tonight And the people, they were dancing To the music vibe

And the boys chase the girls with curls in their hair While the shy tormented youth sit way over there And the songs get louder each one better than before

And you're singing the songs thinking this is the life And you wake up in the morning and your head feels twice the size Where you gonna go, where you gonna go, where you gonna sleep tonight? And you're singing the songs thinking this is the life And you wake up in the morning and your head feels twice the size Where you gonna go, where you gonna go, where you gonna sleep tonight? Where you gonna sleep tonight?

So you're heading down the road in your taxi for four And you're waiting outside Jimmy's front door But nobody's in and nobody's home 'til 4 So you're sitting there with nothing to do Talking about Robert Riger and his motley crew And where you gonna go, where you gonna sleep tonight?

Harry was in awe at how effortlessly his girl sang and how her confidence was growing each minute. He watched at how the fans were all in their own bubbles singing and dancing along. He was even more surprised to see YN take the mic and join the fans with some dance moves. He let out a big cheer and joined in, dancing along with Jeff and Brad.

---

“I want to thank you all for joining me tonight.”. YN began to speak into the mic. “I have enjoyed every moment and I’d like to sing one last song for you…this one’s a special song to me for so many different reasons…one being if I hadn’t have posted me singing this one…I’m not sure I would be standing right here now…please sing along, here’s The Chain!”.

Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies

And if you don't love me now You will never love me again I can still hear you saying You would never break the chain

YN couldn’t help but smile to herself as she heard the crowd sing the famous Fleetwood Mac lyrics back to her.

And if you don't love me now You will never love me again I can still hear you saying You would never break the chain

“Thank you Wembley! See you later!”. YN thanked the crowd before running off the stage into Harry’s arms.

“I’m so proud of you!” Harry held her close to him, placing his lips on hers in a quick kiss.

“Thank you for believing in me!” YN gave him a big grin, still feeling the buzz from performing.

“Always!”. He promised.

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silenzahra · 3 months

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Mario & Luigi: Dream Team appreciation post ✨

A few days ago I was suggested by @keakruiser to write a fic in which Mario and Luigi were in a cold environment (working on it! Almost done, promise!). This gave me a chance to rescue an idea I had a looooong time ago, back when I first played Dream Team (around 2015), but I never got to write it.

So, I've been watching some gameplays of this game and listening to its music again (so as to get in the mood), and man, I had simply forgotten how truly and absolutely ADORABLE the brothers are in this game.

I mean, the cuties????? The way they hug as if they hadn't seen each other in, like, years??? Patting each other's back and nodding and smiling in complete joy AW they're the sweetest!!! 😭😭😭

The fact that Luigi starts laughing in the real world while his dreamy self embraces his big bro will always make me emotional.

THE SILLIEEEEES AAAAHHH LOOK AT THEM BEING TWO CUTE LITTLE BEANS OMG I LOVE THEM SO SO MUCH 😭😭😭

I have always LOVED the way Luigi rocks his legs while he's on Mario's shoulders right before they do the Side Drill move. He's such a cute little baby 🥺💚✨

Also, I find their pose right before starting a Luiginary Attack quite hilarious 😂

The Luiginary Moves and the Giant Battles. Is there really anything else to say? Only one: these two elements were the final proof that this game's true hero was Luigi. He had the chance to show his courage and protect his big bro from danger, as well as being the one who made it possible for him and Mario to get into the dream world.

He was the main character in this game. And it really made me love him even more than I already did.

Not meaning to belittle Mario, far from it! But this game really made his little brother shine, and he definitely seemed giddy about it! Just look at him on top of the Luiginary Typhoon or Giant Luigi's hat. He's the true picture of pride! 🥹

I just LOVE his determination on the latter picture. It just shows that he truly believes in Luigi's abilities to defeat their enemies on his own! But of course, Mario will always be there to fight by his side, just as Luigi has always been there to have his back. They're a team, after all. The Dream Team.

And last but not least... have you guys seen this???

That. Knowing. LOOK. Aren't they the most adorable brothers to ever exist OMG I love them SO MUCH!!! 😭😭😭

I swear I let out a squeak when I noticed they gave each other that quick look when celebrating in this game. The sweetness in the gesture simply melts my heart 🥹🥹🥹 (Actually, I'm making that last picture my new pfp because I just LOVE how absolutely cute they look.)

Before I go, here are a few more pictures of them being silly and funny and adorable 💚❤✨

Just two sleepy boys about to zone out 🤭

My poor Luigi seems to have always been chased by lava! The man can't even take a short break 😮‍💨

Love how tiny Mario looks on the last one btw 🤭 So cute! ✨

So yeah! Now you know that the next fanfic I intend to post is going to be based on this amazing game 🤭 And I'm really happy I got to write it, because it made me remember how deeply I loved Dream Team when I first played it almost ten years ago 🥹

So thank you, @keakruiser, for your amazing suggestion. I'll be delivering soon and I really hope you like the result! 💖

EDIT: Here's the fic! ✨

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meownotgood · 2 years

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cherry waves / hayakawa aki

Aki is undeniably, wholeheartedly in love with you, and there's nowhere he tells you he loves you more than right here, in his bed, when you're under him.

cherry waves - deftones

all my love to @kentoangel for giving me the inspiration to make this fic!!!! ilysmmmmm!!!!!!!!!! 💗

pairing: hayakawa aki x fem!reader

word count: 6.1k

tags: 18+, smut, fluff, fingering, cunnilingus, tender sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, smoking, established relationship, lots and lots of i love you's, soft dom aki

this work contains explicit content intended for 18+ individuals. please read the tags and do not interact if you are a minor.

Aki is undeniably, wholeheartedly in love with you.

He tells you every single day. Before he goes to work, he leaves a note on the fridge: There's cash on the coffee table if you want to go out and treat yourself. Have a good day baby. I love you. :) His handwriting is neat, sleek, and formal, like him personified with pen, but when he gets to the I love you, the letters seem to become a bit messier. He scribbles them nervously, as if he feels a little embarrassed about writing it, about seeing the words on the paper, tangible and real. Regardless, you pluck the note off the fridge and keep it in your drawer, alongside the hundreds of others he's written for you.

With his voice, he asserts it even more. When he manages to get a break at work, he steps aside to call you for as long as he can, even if it's only for a few minutes. He tells you he loves you before he hangs up the phone, says how much he misses you while admiring the polaroid of you in his wallet. I think about you every second that I'm here. I can't wait to come home to you.

He'll profess his love in the late hours of the night, limbs tangled with yours under the sheets, while he holds you close to his chest. He litters your forehead with the lightest, most delicate of kisses, as though you're made of porcelain beneath his lips. The words are uttered drowsily, like they're heavy in his throat, and he whispers them over and over again, as if his fondness is spilling over, uncontained. You're already fast asleep in his arms by now, so his I love you's fade into the darkness, but perhaps you'll end up hearing them in your dreams.

It slips off of his tongue again when he shares lunch with you. He takes an orange from the fruit bowl in the kitchen, peels it, pulls the pieces clean apart. There's an odd number of slices. He gives you the extra one. The citrus tastes sweet on his tongue, just as sweet as what falls from his lips. God, I love you so much, you know that? It catches you a bit off guard when he says it out of no-where, but before you can ask him where his sudden remark came from, he's shutting you up with a kiss that tastes sugar-coated.

He's just lucky to have you. Lucky and oh-so grateful to share both his life and his love. This quiet scene, shared between only the two of you: it's simple, but he's never felt more alive. Aki is finally able to live how he's always wanted, enjoying the most mundane of moments with the one he genuinely loves, who loves him just as much.

If he is the moon — cold, monochrome, and stormy — then you're definitely the sun, shining like rays of daybreak light and eternally warm like a summer's heatwave. In a world of devils, of heartache and the bitter taste of blood, you would be his idea of an angel.

He's still not sure if he even deserves this, nor does he understand how someone like him got so damn fortunate. And it's cheesy, but he wouldn't trade this life for any other, or for anything in the universe. He just wishes he got the chance to meet you, to cherish you and this life, so, so much sooner.

All he can do now is make the most of it, tell you he's in love with you in as many sentences as he can possibly fit it into, kiss you until his lips are bruising, promise you, I'll stay with you, for as long as this world will allow. Cross my heart and hope to die, my love.

There's nowhere else he belongs but here. His arms belong wrapped around you, his lips belong on yours, he longs to be as intertwined with you as possible. There's nothing he wants to say more than your name and infinite chants of I love you, I love you, I love you.

And there's nowhere Aki tells you he loves you more than right here, in his bed, when you're under him. The phrase is whispered in your ear, warm and true, the slightest bit shaky. "You're beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I'm so in love with you." He says the words softly, but in your chest, they feel like the intense blaze and explosion of a sky filled with fireworks.

A vinyl spins and spins in the humble record player, and the speakers play a song. The low music resounds in harmony with the soft pitter-patter of rain. Droplets blanket the tin roof above and then tap gently against the window. Silk curtains are pulled slightly ajar, and blurry, fluorescent lights from the city shine through fogged up glass, illuminating the dim room.

His clothes and yours lie in a heap on the floor. He slipped off his oxfords at the door, shed his suit jacket over the couch. You loosened his tie and tossed it aside, popped each button on his dress shirt, unfastened his belt and his zipper to pull down his slacks. You reached into his hair and tugged on his hairtie until it came free from the topknot and the dark strands fell around his face.

He pulled your pants down and off of your legs, then hooked his fingers around the waistband of your underwear. He kissed you through the fabric, grinning when your legs shivered, before taking them off, leaving you in only the shirt you were wearing.

The album playing is one Aki picked out. The music itself is a bit grungy, maybe even a little out-of-style, but it's one of your favorite bands, and since it's your favorite, it became his too. He plays the cassette you gave him in the car when he drives, listens to the record on loop when you're gone because it always reminds him of you.

Strands of his hair tickle your face when he places a tender kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, your jaw, and finally your lips, where he grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger to drag you in closer. He doesn't want to pull away, and so he lingers for far longer than necessary, kissing you softly, effortlessly.

Your arms wrap around him, and you hold the back of his head with one hand, trail your fingers down his back with the other, and trace the scars that are littered between his shoulder blades. His hands find your thighs and he grips them carefully, slowly spreading them apart.

He pulls away to pepper your neck with kisses and playful nibbles of his teeth, his lips unable to stay off of you. His fingers trail up, under your shirt, and on your chest, below your ribcage, his fingertips trace shapes onto your skin. It tingles when he draws circles, hearts, spells out the letters of his name with a feather-light touch, wishing he could engrave them in. If he could, he'd cover every last inch of you with his own being, until there's unmistakable proof that he was there, that he's in love with you. For now, the hickeys he's leaving on your nape will have to do.

"So gorgeous," He mutters against your skin, words muffled, breath hot. "God, I just adore you." His voice is deep, quiet, as smooth as the velvet sheets and as familiar as the guitar riff you've long since memorized in this song.

When Aki leans back, there's a faint grin on his face, and the kindest look in his eyes. Just looking into them makes you feel like you're drowning in warmth. It's hard to recall when you first met him, it feels like forever ago. His gaze was so cold and frigid then, but now, it's taken on a much softer hue.

Aki dotes on the fact that you're wearing nothing but his own shirt. It's one of his old t-shirts that you dug out from his dresser, and it's a baggy fit, but it looks beautiful on you, he thinks. His palms glide under it, caressing your bare skin. From this view, you look stunning. The way you're laid back on his pillow, arms sprawled out with hands upturned, you look absolutely darling, like a dose of fathomable heaven.

Your senses are filled with the smell of his sheets, his clothing, and his laundry detergent. His cigarettes, his room, just the smell of him, it makes your head spin, and you melt into the comfort and familiarity of it all. You reach up to tuck his messy hair behind his ears, fiddling with the piercings on his lobes as his hands travel down. The glint in his earrings capture the hazy glow of the city lights.

His hands reach your hips and he holds them tight, his thumbs rubbing comforting circles on your skin. He lifts them, aligns you, takes a deep breath. His heart pounds with anticipation, but he looks to you, asks if you're ready first, and only when you nod does he continue. With a hard swallow that makes his Adam's apple bob in his throat, then a fragile gasp and whine, he steadily presses inside you.

You're so wet from the hours Aki spent teasing you before this, and so messy from the countless times you've came already for him. The inside of your thighs are shiny and glistening, covered with the love bites and pretty bruises he left there.

It's on nights like these where Aki not only tells you how much he loves you, but shows you. He pleasures you all night long, until you've cum over and over again for him. Until morning light starts to seep through the blinds, and you're too tired to continue, falling asleep in his arms after the waves of pleasure subside.

Earlier, he made you cum on his fingers, one hand holding his cigarette, the other nestled between your legs. He takes a drag in from the cig, tilting his head to exhale the smoke away from you, all while his middle finger runs up and down your pussy. He gets it wet with your slick before slowly pressing it inside, all the way to the knuckle. He drags it in and out, in and out, and when you buck your hips to meet his hand, he adds another.

His ring finger stretches you out deliciously, and once it's all the way in, you can feel the cool metal of his promise ring pressed up against your entrance.

It rests on the base of his finger: a modest, silver band. You wear a similar one, but yours is adorned with a bright, glittering diamond. He saved all his paychecks for months, surprising you with the matching set on your anniversary. Since then, he never takes it off, his promise to be yours anchored to him wherever he goes.

He'll replace them someday; he's going to ask you to marry him in the future, and he's already convinced himself of it. He hopes you'll take his last name. There's no-one in the world he trusts more with the Hayakawa surname than you, and no-one else he'd rather pass it on to. Giving you that piece of himself would be a blessing.

Aki's hands are so large and so pretty, big enough to eclipse your own when he holds them, or to cup your entire face with his palm like it's what he was meant to do. And his fingers are perfect; they're so long and slender, and they feel so good as he fucks you with them. You gasp when he curls them upwards, and his lips can't help but form a smile around his cigarette.

You're always so receptive to his touch. You still giggle every time he kisses the back of your hand or the tip of your nose. Your heart still pounds when he embraces you, when his eyes lock with yours for too long. You fall apart for him every time, just as easily as the first.

He finds it endearing, and he can't help but want to please you more and more, give you all of his affection. He stamps his cigarette out into the ashtray resting on the nightstand, abandoning it to put his full attention on you, whispering the most divine words into your ear.

Listen to how wet you are. It feels good, right? Tell me it feels good.

He pumps his fingers in and out to a careful, tender rhythm. He makes sure to press them in enough so that each time, you feel the cold edges of his ring.

Oh, baby, are you close? Don't hold back, I want you to cum for me.

Aki can feel you tightening around his fingers. He notices your breathing picking up and your body starting to tense. He drags his fingers out and brings them to your clit, where he rubs tight circles, just how you like, in the way that always brings you to the edge for him time and time again.

That's it. You're so beautiful when you cum, sweetheart. You make me want you so bad.

Your thighs are sore, and your whole body is trembling, but Aki holds you close while you come down. You can go one more time for me, can't you, baby? Of course, when he asks you that, the answer is always going to be yes.

He's dying to taste you, and so he makes you cum again, on his tongue this time. He plants open-mouthed kisses on your stomach, your hips, your thighs, onto every bone, mole, and soft spot his lips can find. Raise your hips a little for me, He instructs, sliding his arms under your thighs when you do so, There you go. Can you spread your legs a bit more for me too?

He laps up the mess, presses his tongue in, fucks you with it. The rich flavor of his cigarettes still lingers in the back of his throat, and your sweet taste combined with it makes him feel delirious.

He buries his face between your legs, his nose nudging at your clit, and he groans into your cunt when you run your fingers through his hair and pull him in. He kisses your clit with soft lips, licks it with the flat length of his tongue, takes it into his mouth and sucks on it hard. You're so pretty, he mumbles, but you hardly hear it. Your legs wrap around his head, and he doesn't stop until you're cumming for him again.

Making you cum, listening to your pretty moans, watching you fall apart to his touch, it gets him so hard. His dick aches, throbs ceaselessly in his briefs, leaks out where it rests thick and heavy against his thigh. His mind goes foggy with lust, and he can feel the pure and utter want for you burning in his veins, settling in the cavity of his chest.

There's something about you that always makes him want more, makes him crave you, and causes him to desire everything you're willing to let him have. It's insatiable. He wants to be inside you so bad he can hardly stand it, but honestly, he could get off on just this alone.

He could do this all night, surely. He always puts your pleasure above his own, and he would worship your body forever, make each curve and dip into his form of a prayer, if you'd only let him. He'll make you cum as many times as you can take, and as many times as you want. Whatever you want him to do, he'll do it for you. However much you want him to give, he'll give you even more. At your request, he'd give you every last part of himself.

But on nights like this, even when your eyelids are heavy and threatening to shut, you need more of him. You want to be closer, so even when you're spent, you always end up begging him please, Please, Aki. I want you to fuck me. He wants it just as badly, if not more, and when you ask him like that, how can he resist? He'll always give you exactly what you ask for.

His cock is thick and so fucking pretty, a perfect stretch when he fills you up. Aki takes his time, eases into you slowly, and you savor every single inch of him. The sight of his dick pressing inside you is damn near intoxicating, and he wouldn't be able to tear his gaze away if he tried. His pupils are blown, eyes glazed over, and his lips are slightly parted, quivering.

When he's finally all the way in, you can feel his dick in your stomach, and he groans, pulling you in even closer by your waist. He hasn't even moved yet, and his head is already spinning. He waited so long for this, ended up teasing himself just as much as he teased you, and you're so tight around his cock, the feeling might consume him. He doesn't think he'll be able to last long, but he'll try.

"Oh, fu-uck, baby-" Aki's voice cracks into a moan as he starts to fuck you, echoing a wet sound when he rolls his hips out, then presses back in deeply. He mumbles, "You feel so amazing, I love you. God, I love you."

Before you can tell him you love him too, his lips come crashing onto yours. He kisses you slowly, at first, but he can't help himself from wanting to indulge in you further. Your lips feel like all he could ever need as they mesh with his. Then, he's kissing you deeply, breathlessly, like he can't get enough. He sucks on your tongue, sighing when he thrusts into you. He buries his cock in deeper just to feel you moan more into his mouth. Your hands thread through his hair, holding it back, keeping it out of his face.

Honestly, the feeling itself isn't what turns you on the most. It's knowing that he is the one fucking you, Aki's dick is inside you. Aki, whose cold exterior you broke past, whose heartache you managed to cure. Aki, who deserves so much more than what the world has given him, who is nothing like what people say about him.

Aki, who keeps his arm linked with yours while he makes dinner, trying out new recipes to find which one you like the best. Who wipes the tears from under your eyes with his thumbs, who gives you his jacket when it's cold outside, who still blushes when your knee bumps his in public, who makes you feel completely and utterly safe with him. Aki, who kisses you just like this, like the world is going to end.

The way Aki loves is intense, but tender. It's exhilarating, but sincere. It never fails to take your breath away, yet still feels like a home you can return to. The kind of love that grounds you, but not without allowing you to fall for him more and more. The kind of love that's purposeful in everything, because in every possible instance, you're the one he wants, and the one he needs. You, and only you.

When he draws away from you, his lips are ghosting on yours, and he whispers it again, "I love you," voice just barely audible over the music and the downpour. He pulls back further, reaches a hand into his messy hair to brush it out of his face, then cups your cheek. You lean into his warmth, his touch. You can feel the outline of his ring, and he has a stupid grin on his face when he mumbles, "Look at you. So beautiful, and you're all mine. How did I get so lucky?" It's true, but really, he's all yours — so hopelessly addicted to you.

Aki makes love to you softly, almost lazily. It's sweet and passionate, and gives you a chance to enjoy the atmosphere and every little detail of it all. Aki's cheeks are flushed, his eyelashes flutter, and his chest heaves with every ragged breath he takes in. His moans are loud and needy, each roll of his hips deliberate, never too hard, because he knows how to make you cum without the need to be rough.

Every time he shoves his cock in, it sends blood rushing to his head, and with each drag out, he whines from the pressure. He's sweating, and he grabs your shirt to hastily tug it up. Not enough to take it off, just enough to expose your chest to him.

The storm is picking up now, and the rain has grown to a loud, universal drum as it pours from the sky. The record player is still going, vinyl spinning idly as it plays the next song on the album. Aki fucks you through it, nearly to the rhythm, but he isn't paying attention to the music. He's just focused on you. The ambience is drowned out by the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and Aki's voice in your ear.

"So good," Aki slurs, and one of his hands grips your waist, while the other finds yours to hold it tightly, your fingers interlaced with his. "You take my cock so well."

"Aki… I..." You stammer out, unable to say much more than that.

"Yeah?" Aki stops completely, giving you a second to breathe. He leans in a little closer, studies your face, and quietly asks, "What is it, baby? What do you want?"

"Want you deeper, I want you to fuck me more, please-"

"Shit," Aki sighs, clearly losing his composure for a second. He already had an idea of what you were going to ask for, but he still absolutely loves when you beg for him. He exhales a shaky breath, "Okay, baby, okay."

Aki's pace quickens a little, and he presses his body closer to yours, desperate to get himself even deeper inside. He's gasping, finding it difficult to breathe as he fucks into you harder, with less of his deliberate movements, and more of his own desperation. He's losing control, little by little, with each thrust and each noise he pulls out of you. You wrap your arms around him, and it's like he's falling into you.

All it took was that little bit of extra speed, shoving his cock in deeper, harder, and your heavenly moans and cries into his ear for him to be just barely hanging onto the edge. You feel good, way too good. Too perfect, and he's too vulnerable, linked inseparably with you.

"Oh my God, I c-can't, you feel so- fuck, fucking amazing," He stammers, barely able to get the words out, moaning after every unsteady thrust into you as he begins to lose his rhythm. His high-pitched whines are a perfect contrast to the deep vibrato of his voice. "I can't, baby, I'm so close, I'm gonna cum-"

He's trying so much to hold out, but he's so needy, and it's made evident by his moans and the love-drunk expression on his face when he leans back to look at you. His eyebrows are knitted, his lips are parted, and he's flushed red, all the way to the tips of his ears. Despite how badly he wants it, he thinks he might be able to keep going for a little while longer, but when you start begging for him to let go, to cum for you, he's done for.

He gives you a couple more desperate thrusts before he pulls out, panting hard, and his dick throbs in his hand as he jerks it. He whines your name as his cum spills out all over your pussy, your stomach, and your thighs. All over his own trembling fingers and down his knuckles, making his hand sticky and messy.

Aki takes a moment to catch his breath. Strands of hair stick to his forehead from his sweat and he does his best to brush them away. He glides two fingers through the mess on your stomach, then collects what drips down your thighs, before bringing them to your mouth. You open before he has to tell you to, and he smears his cum all over your tongue. You suck on his slender fingers and twirl your tongue around his whole hand, licking up every last drop.

"That's it," Aki praises, exhaling a shaky sigh, "Such a good girl for me. You made me feel so fucking good, baby."

You hum around his fingers in response.

He's close to collapsing, his whole body covered in a blanket of exhaustion, but his focus is on you. He's still so damn hard, already dribbling pre-cum out all over your soft stomach. And he's still so eager to please you, still so desperate to have you. Watching you take his fingers just reignited that feeling.

Aki takes his fingers out, and they're wet with your own saliva when he grabs your face and squeezes your cheeks. He swallows, and the way his normally resolute voice wavers implies that he's the slightest bit nervous when he admits, "I still need you."

"I need you too. Please."

The tip of his dick is sensitive, to the point where just pressing it to your entrance makes him whine and briefly falter. He strokes up the length, trying to get himself used to the stimulation, swiping his palm over the tip to smear the shaft with his pre-cum. He doesn't want to make you wait for too long, so he brings it back to your pussy, dragging it over, getting it messy with your slick and his cum before he slowly eases back in.

"Oh, God," Aki's head falls, and you wrap your legs around his back, tangling your fingers in his hair. You run them through close to the scalp, gently holding the back of his head, and he stammers, "S-So… It's so…"

It's so sloppy, so wet. So overwhelming, and all too much. His cock slides in and out with ease, and he fucks into you as much as he can possibly handle without falling apart at the seams. Your thighs are soaked, his dick is unbelievably messy, and the wet sound echoed each time he shoves himself in is so damn loud.

"Babydoll, I'm-" Aki mumbles, but he's unable to finish his sentence, breaking into a string of pathetic whimpers. He feverishly gives your neck open-mouthed kisses as a way to shut himself up.

The overstimulation is already starting to get to him. His legs are weak and shaky, threatening to buckle under the weight of each thrust into you. His dick is so goddamn sensitive that he can hardly handle this, and yet, he can't stop. The only thing running through his brain, through every nerve in his body is that he needs you, he needs this. He grabs your face with his hand and you hook your arms around his neck to pull him in, your lips clumsily connecting with his.

Aki moans into your mouth as he kisses you, and mutters an I love you that slurs off of his tongue when yours swirls around his. The taste of himself on your mouth has him reeling, and he can't stop himself from rutting his hips into you hard. When he pulls away, there's drool dripping down his chin, and he wipes it hastily with the back of his hand.

With his head in such a blur, he ends up telling you every little thought that enters into his mind. "Feels so g-good… So warm… Really w-wet, ah-"

God, you just love him when he's like this. So fucked out and drunk on you he can hardly speak, his head so cloudy all he can think about is how you're making him feel. It's a side of him only you get to see; he's cold and serious with everyone else, but he's got a soft spot for you. The truth is, even when it seems like he's the one in control, you're the one who's held all the power over him from the start. You always have.

You can leave hickeys on his neck that all his co-workers will see, scratch up his back with your fingernails until they leave red streaks across his skin, touch him anywhere and everywhere you please because he's yours to touch. Play with his pretty cock all you want, until he's pleading with you to let him cum, to give him more because he needs it. You can stuff his own tie in his mouth to keep him quiet, wrap your hands around his throat while you ride him. And he'll love every second of it, pure devotion reflected in the gaze he can't seem to keep off of you.

He'll let you do anything you want to him, and he'll give you anything you ask for. Especially when he's this overwhelmed, drowning in his own pleasure. And if there's anything you want right now, it's to watch him lose his mind for you.

So when you tell him to fuck you deeper, harder, pleading, Don't you dare stop, not even for a second, he'll do just that. When you tell him to kiss you, bite you, he does, placing hurried pecks over every inch of your face, leaving impressions of his teeth on your neck and shoulders. And when you tell him to keep talking to you, praise you, I want to hear your voice, his words are incoherent and breathless, but he stammers them all the same, and without a second thought.

"Love you… I… A-Ah, it's-" Aki manages, trying to form something complete, but failing every time. His breaths are quickened and his chest is heaving when he begs, "Please," although he's not sure what he's even begging for. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and beads of sweat drip down his forehead. It's too much, but he needs you so badly he can't quit. He's desperate to feel you cum on his cock.

Your legs are still wrapped around him, secured at the ankles. You glide your hands up his chest, then to where his collarbones jut out. Over his shoulders, up to his jawline, then down again to squeeze his arms. He's pretty, so pretty, the prettiest boy you've ever seen.

He can feel you tightening around him, and can tell your moans are picking up as he fucks you. His thrusts are shallow; he needs the friction, but also longs to stay deep inside you. He's dizzy, seeing stars, and even though he's so overwhelmed that he's not sure if he can handle cumming again, a familiar knot starts forming in his gut. He chokes out, "C-Close."

"Me too," You reply, "Want you to cum for me, fill me up, please, Aki-"

There's no way, absolutely no way he can resist that. Between you begging for him and the way you say his name, he's done for. He'll always give you just what you want.

The tension snaps, and Aki grabs your waist and pulls you closer to him, fucking you through his orgasm, filling you with his cum. He cums so hard, so loud, so desperately, his muscles tightening, his dick throbbing in your stomach, all while he whines your name and a mix of disjointed, endless I love you's.

His thrusts become messy, unrelenting, and he doesn't stop, not when it sounds like he can hardly breathe, or when his whole body is trembling. Before he collapses onto you, he wedges a hand between your legs, his fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit. The feeling is one of utter euphoria, and it's enough to bring you to the edge. You slur his name over and over again as you finish, saying it in ways that make his heart flutter and swell in his chest.

He slows when you're finally spent, his voice in your ear hoarse, but gentle, words spoken under his breath. "That's it, cum on me, baby. Just like that... Oh my God...."

The record has long since stopped by now, and the rain still falls, but nowhere near as hard as before. It creates an air of silence, and you're suddenly aware of your own heart in your ears, and Aki's heavy breaths, his swallows and meager gasps for air. His weight pins you to the mattress, and he pulls out incredibly slow, wrapping his arms around you to hold you even closer to himself. He smells of sex and sweat, of lingering smoke and a cozy familiarity.

"You okay?" He asks, finally managing to catch his breath, whispering into the shell of your ear.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm okay."

"I love you so much. More than I could ever find a way to express," Aki sighs, taking your hand into his own, "You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

You give a little half-hearted chuckle, and then you reply, "I love you too. So much."

Aki pushes himself up a little to meet your gaze. His cheeks are covered in a rosy blush, and when your free hand comes to cup his cheek, he holds it there, his fingers tenderly rubbing circles into your knuckles, brushing over the curve of your ring.

He smiles, softly, warm enough to melt fresh snow, and the bridge of his nose crinkles ever-so slightly. After a moment of hesitation, he asks, "You tired, baby?"

You nod, eyelids heavy, your whole body weak and weary. Aki leans in, and you can feel his smile against your lips when he kisses you. He holds it, keeping his lips on yours for far longer than he needs to, like he always does. When he pulls back, he whispers, "Let's get you ready for bed."

Aki gives you as much time as you need to rest, and when you're ready, he tugs your shirt over your head and carries you to the bathroom. He showers with you, lets you lean on him while he washes your hair, and kisses every inch of your skin while you both relax under the hot water. He dries you off, helps you get dressed, kisses the tip of your nose, asks if you're hungry. You say that you're not, but he offers to make you something anyways, and for his cooking, you can't refuse.

When the two of you finally sink back into bed, Aki holds you close. His shape fits to yours perfectly, like two halves of the same whole. You can feel the metronome of his heartbeat thrumming in his chest. His hand grabs yours, absentmindedly, like the way magnets are pulled together, destined to find one another.

"I have the day off tomorrow, what would you like to do, baby?" He asks as he plays with your hair, twirling strands around his fingers.

"Mmm…" You feign thinking, but really, you're just trying to fight off your ever-growing sleepiness. "Can we go shopping?"

"We can go wherever you'd like. You wanna go out to eat, too? We haven't in a while."

It's because your cooking is so good, You think, but you answer with a nod so light you're hardly sure if he even noticed. He places a kiss on the crown of your head and replies, "Alright, we'll go somewhere nice."

In your head, you imagine how the day with him tomorrow will go. Aki will slip out of bed to make breakfast as silently as possible, careful to avoid stepping on the spots that make the floor creak. You'll wake up to the smell of coffee brewing, to breakfast in bed. Aki will take you to the stores he knows you love, the ones that have the clothes you always say you feel the best in. He'll take you out to the restaurant you never ask for, because you know it's too expensive, but he secretly knows it's your favorite. And of course, he'll pay for everything.

You begin to fall asleep as the scenes play out in your mind, melting into the lull of his soft breathing and the warmth of his arms.

Aki's voice is drowsy when he asks, "You still awake?"

There's no response, so he pulls you closer, holds you safely, presses your head to his heart, and tells you one last, I love you.

And when he drifts off as well, he'll love you still, wholeheartedly. Even in his dreams, then until he breathes his last, and when he does, he's sure he'll continue to love you in the lifetime after this one.

I'll love you as much as my heart can take. Cross my heart and hope to die.

#aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa smut #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man smut #aki hayakawa #aki x reader

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