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cooliestghouliest · 6 months

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THE MIDDLE BEDROOM

PAIRING: established Billy/Reader relationship, bff!Eddie is a Peeping Tom

TAGS and C/W’s: this is basically just smut (which means 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), pining undertones, oral (f!receiving), Billy's filthy mouth, SPIT, Eddie's a pervert but Billy's kinda setting him up so really Eddie is just advantageous, m!masturbation, unprotected PiV

WORD COUNT: 3.4k+

A/N: hi, my friends!!! this is a rewrite/repost and has been edited for a (hopefully) smoother, more enjoyable read. basically, i’m trying to revamp everything i’ve published in hopes that an inspiration bug crawls deep, deep inside me and just fucking explodes, leaving only creativity and motivation to replace all of my blood and oxygen. it’s almost 2024, who needs to bleed and breathe anyway??? please remember that likes are greatly appreciated, but comments and reblogs are what make the writer’s world go round. :-) <33

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It happened at Rick Lipton's annual Halloween party. '86, baby.

There were many nameless faces wandering about the bungalow, all in varying states of sobriety. Eddie only recognized a handful of people, one of them being Billy Hargrove... and the other being you, Eddie's best friend, but also Hargrove's drop-dead, knock-the-fuck-out gorgeous girlfriend.

Eddie had overheard someone guess that you were dressed as a witch. Someone else guessed that you were dressed as Stevie Nicks. With a shrug, you'd answered, "Those are the same thing," like it was the most obvious certainty in the entire world.

You were in a sheer black off-the-shoulder maxi dress, the form-fitting fabric tight in all the right places. There was a long, gracious slit down the side that ran from hip to foot. When you moved in a certain way, Eddie could see that you were wearing black suede thigh-high boots, a little kitten heel clicking against the hardwood floors as you walked.

Right up to him.

"Hi, Eddie," you'd greeted with a smile, eyes wide and welcoming. You swirled the train of your dress a bit, swaying along to some Joni Mitchell song playing in the background. "Happy Halloween."

Eddie didn't get the chance to answer, though he was sure he'd have ended up stumbling over his words anyway, because you just looked so pretty tonight. He was only able to return the smile before Billy appeared beside you.

"Hey, man," Hargrove prompted, Eddie watching as the honey blonde rested lucky fingers on the small of your back. The other palm extended to clap Eddie on the shoulder a few times. "You bring it?"

"Yeah, it's just... uh..." Eddie dug his hand around in the front pockets of his jeans, then in the back pockets of his jeans, then eventually found what he was looking for in the pocket of his denim jacket, bypassing a broken button to reach for the little baggie in question.

As he was about to pull it out, Billy’s hand gripped his forearm, halting him. "Not here," Hargrove instructed. He stepped an inch closer to Eddie, voice lowering to just above a whisper. Eddie had to dip his head forward to try and hear the blonde over the music and commotion around them. "Come upstairs. Like fifteen minutes. Middle bedroom." At Eddie's confused expression (they were at a Halloween party thrown by Hawkins' most profitable drug dealer, for fuck's sake -- who the hell would care about a little coke?), Billy fashioned him a grin, stepping back. "Don't need everybody knowing my business and shit, ya know?"

Eddie guessed that was a decent enough explanation, so he shrugged the absurdity off. He'd always thought Billy was a little weird, anyway. And coming from Eddie Munson, the biggest fucking weirdo of all, that characterization spoke volumes.

After that, you and Billy disappeared. Eddie had followed the tail-end of your dress until you were lost in a sea of strangers, then decided to try and push the rest of the weed he had onto other partygoers, wanting to leave tonight with his current debt to Rick paid and his lunch box full of fresh goodies for the new month ahead.

It was exactly fifteen minutes later that Eddie began his ascent of the stairs to Rick's second floor. He weaved in and out of groping couples, stepped over sleeping Lettermen, and gave a tight-lipped smile to a group of girls that stumbled out of the bathroom and slammed right into him. He stepped to the side, giving them the right of way, before crossing the hallway to his destination: the middle bedroom.

The door was shut, so Eddie knocked. Waited a few seconds, then knocked again.

Still with no answer, he took a large step back, surveying the other doors around him to verify he hadn't gotten turned around and was in fact standing in front of the right room, which he was.

Eddie huffed a sigh. He glanced around the hallway again, checking to see if maybe Hargrove was just running late, but there was no blonde mullet in sight.

Figuring Billy must have been inside and was just... busy or something (actively ignoring him? suddenly gone deaf?), Eddie brought his hand to the knob to twist it and enter.

The room was mostly dark. Not exactly pitch black, thanks to a streetlight seen through the big bay window, but still dark enough that Eddie needed to blink rapidly several times to adjust his eyes to the new lighting.

His immediate thought was that Billy must have either forgotten to meet him up here or had ditched the party entirely and left the dealer packing with a now homeless dimebag of blow.

Off to the right, however, was a thick slab of pale-yellow light emanating from a partially closed door. It was the bathroom, which Eddie knew from sleeping in this very bedroom more than a handful of times since first meeting Rick Lipton a few years back.

And that’s when Eddie started to hear it.

Or, as he would soon come to find out, hear you.

He had at first mistaken the quick, soft breaths of air for sounds of pain or distress, which was why he'd begun inching towards the bathroom in the first place.

But now, standing in the shadow of the ajar door, he was able to peek inside. At the sight before him, Eddie felt his eyes widen, and a prickling warmth started to spread throughout his body.

Those were definitely not sounds of pain or distress.

Billy sat kneeled in front of where you were currently spread out on the bathroom counter. Your knees were hiked up towards your chest, your dress laying in a heap on the ground, and you were left only in a bright red bra. And those goddamn suede thigh-highs.

He should have walked away right then, he knew that. He was going to, really, but then you arched your back, your head falling lax behind you, and the fucking obscene moan you let out had Eddie biting down so hard on his bottom lip that he tasted blood.

How was he supposed to leave now?

He couldn't help himself.

You were just... you.

Thoughtful, generous, creative. You went out of your way to ensure no one ever felt judged or left out; you were known to drop everything without debate in order to help anyone who really needed it; you let him host Hellfire in your basement when the club needed a new location in a pinch, and even helped him plot twists in his campaigns.

Truly, Eddie had a very hard time seeing what you saw in that prick Billy Hargrove, but that was something to ponder at a later point. Because right now, Eddie was getting to see you in a position he'd only ever dreamed of seeing you in.

When would he ever get this chance again?

Eddie refused to think too deeply into this, deciding to pretend he didn't have a moral compass for a bit. It was probably bad. Likely even made him a pervert, but he'd been called much worse, so he figured he'd just add this one to the list now, too.

He wasn't exactly sure how he was going to be able to face either one of you again, but his feet just weren't working when his brain tried to tell them to move, and now his cock was starting to fill out the confines of his jeans in a way that had him seeking the relief of the doorframe, his hips acting of their own accord, finding a slow, rocking rhythm.

Billy had his palms splayed out on either side of your inner thighs, holding your legs open. Eddie quickly grew irritated that he couldn't see exactly what the blonde's tongue was doing. He thought that if he couldn't be the one with his own face buried against you, he wanted to at least have an unobstructed, close-up view.

He wanted to see Hargrove's lips wet with your slick, wanted to watch them wrap around your aching clit and suck until you tried to push him away. If Eddie could, he'd hold your arms down while Billy devoured you, wanting you to feel so much pleasure it was borderline painful.

He was pulled out of his fantasy by the sound of Billy's voice, raspy and teasing. "Love when you give me this sloppy fucking cunt," he said, the words themselves demeaning but his tone singing nothing but praises. Billy lowered his head back down, giving you a few long, loud licks.

Eddie knew he himself could be theatrical, but Billy Hargrove was dramatic in his own ways, and it did certainly seem like the blonde loved to hear the sound of his own voice. Apparently, eating pussy and its associated noises fell under this umbrella of Hargrove Histrionics.

Billy pulled his head back to spit several times on your well-loved cunt. Eddie didn't dare to blink as the other man brought two fingers to spread your lips and spit again, this time with your hardened nub as target. Both him and Billy watched intently as the saliva dripped slowly down your slit, past your empty hole, and leaked off of you entirely to darken an already present wet spot on Hargrove's blue jeans.

And fuck, you loved it.

With each assault of Billy's spit, you let out faint little gasps (fucking cute, Eddie had thought), body jolting at the contact, your eyes fluttering open and shut as the moisture filled in every curve of your core.

"So fucking messy, aren't you?" Billy taunted, his free hand moving to palm at his clothed length. Eddie was relieved to see Hargrove finally begin to touch himself, honestly impressed at the self-control the blonde had to disregard his pleasure and focus solely on yours. "Makes it feel so good when I finally fuck this thick cock inside you," he continued, unzipping his jeans as he stood. "You think this pussy's ready to soak me?"

Eddie felt like his skin was boiling. He wished he could eliminate some layers. Or all layers, preferably.

You were staring earnestly up at your boyfriend, a desperate pout on your face as you nodded in vigor. "Please, Billy," you begged, and Eddie couldn't take it any longer. He needed to fist his cock raw, having had enough of this grinding against the wall bullshit.

At the same time Billy dropped his jeans, Eddie did the same, pulling himself out of his boxer briefs. He muffled a groan of relief by biting down on the knuckles of his free hand, his other wrapping around the girth of his dick and just squeezing. He didn’t want to give in before Billy had gotten inside you.

The blonde sure was taking his sweet fucking time though, only wetting his length by sliding himself repeatedly between your lips. You were whining, and Eddie could tell you were trying to angle your hips in such a way that it would trip Billy up and he would slip inside. Good girl, get that fucking cock, Eddie thought, impatient and eager to cum, but not wanting to do so without first catching a glimpse at what you looked like stuffed and fucked full.

"Hmm, I dunno," Billy provoked, tapping his cock against your cunt with loud slaps. "Feels really good just like this, baby. Maybe I'll use the outside to fuck myself instead, cum all over this pretty little pussy, make an even bigger mess. You want that?"

You and Eddie both shook your heads at the same time.

You gave a grumble of annoyance (more of like a testy whimper, really) and brought a hand up to slap playfully at Billy's chest. "Fuck me, Billy," you demanded, your voice throaty and yearning. You dropped the hand at his chest to circle his cock, wrapping delicate fingers around his own and helping to stroke. "Need it inside."

"Oh, you need it, greedy girl?" It appeared he was going to listen to you, much to yours and Eddie's respite, because he lined himself up against your hole with one hand, the other moving to wrap around the nape of your neck. "I didn't know that. I gotta give my girl what she needs then. Can't have anyone thinking I don't take care of you."

Finally -- finally -- Eddie watched as Billy took one thrust to bury his cock inside you completely, the blonde releasing a loud, lewd moan. Eddie gave his own throbbing, sweat-slick length the same treatment, fucking into his fist from tip to base until he felt his tightening balls press against his twitching fingers.

You looked better stretched open than Eddie could have ever imagined -- a natural flush glowed on your skin, your bottom lip tugged tight between your upper teeth, your brows furrowed deep.

Your eyes rolled back as Billy began to move, a satisfied moan escaping your lips at the pace he was setting. The sound, contented yet desperate, was music to Eddie's ears. He wanted to record it and hear it on loop -- as a wake-up call, an afternoon pick-me-up, a bedtime lullaby.

Your hands moved to rest on either side of the surface of the sink below you, supporting your weight as Billy rocked into you with long, languid thrusts. Eddie tried to match Hargrove's pace with the stroke of his hand, envisioning it was his own cock giving you exactly what you needed.

You must have felt fucking good to be buried deep inside of, because Billy, always with something to say, was awfully quiet now.

He watched the other man's face through the reflection in the mirror, saw as Billy's baby blues fervently took in the sight underneath him, knowing he himself would be donning the same expression if positions were switched. Eddie knew Hargrove was admiring your perfect tits bouncing with the force of each thrust, knew he was lost in the dissipated doe-eyes that stared back up at him like he hung the fucking moon, when in reality he was just feeding your cunt some very well-deserved cock.

When your mouth dropped open unprompted, your pink tongue sticking out as far as it could go, that was the beginning of the end for Eddie. Both men knew exactly what you were asking for. Hargrove smirked approvingly at the sight before him, and he slowed the speed of his hips for better accuracy. He gathered as much saliva in his mouth as he could before leaning over you, parting his lips and letting gravity do its job.

Once your mouth was filled, Billy brought a hand to your jaw, forcing it shut. "Don't swallow," he instructed, his thrusts no longer slow and unhurried, but now posthaste and unrelenting.

Eddie could feel the familiar tingle in his lower abdomen, alerting him that his release was maybe a minute away. He fleetingly realized that he was going to have to very quickly clean his upcoming mess and get the hell out of the room before he was caught, but his attention was reeled back in when he heard a series of deep, breathless grunts.

"Okay, shit... spit it out now, baby," Billy was muttering, speech rushed, his head dipped to stare unwaveringly at where your bodies connected. "Oh fuck, spit on my fucking cock."

Eddie watched as you leaned yourself forward, angling your head down to release the spit you'd been holding in from your mouth, just adding to the noisy wetness between your legs.

And that did it. The visual — someone as soft and sweet as you doing something so filthy — had Eddie's toes curling in on themselves in his gym shoes, his hand pulsating around his cock to mimic a clenching cunt as he fucked himself into it. His release spilled out over his fist, dampening the ground below him and the bathroom doorframe. He saw stars.

Billy had followed Eddie right off the brink, muttering praises and obscenities interchangeably as you both came down from your highs. "Listen so well, dirty fucking girl. Always make me cum so hard, fuck, this pussy's so fucking full of me right now."

The sound of the quiet giggles urged out of you by Billy's tickling kisses on your neck were what brought Eddie back to the present reality. He wasn't back at home watching the hottest fucking porno he'd ever seen -- no, he was actually standing in a dimly lit bedroom, covered in his own cum, having just spied on his best friend while she got railed by her boyfriend.

Shit.

Eddie's moral compass came back with a vengeance. He cringed as he rubbed his sticky fingers on the inside of his band tee to clean them, not wanting anyone to catch a glimpse of crusty white as he made his getaway. He found a towel in a laundry basket and wiped away any remnants of his release from the wall and floor, then tossed it back into the hamper.

Not even able to glance back into the bathroom, his skin now heated from shame and embarrassment rather than arousal, Eddie buttoned up his jeans and hurried out of the room, ready to try and forget that all of that just happened.

About ten minutes later, he was perched against his van about a block from Rick's, where he'd parked. He was smoking a cigarette, having finally began to cool off and calm down. If he tried hard enough, he was sure he could convince himself this was all a really vivid hallucination, and maybe he'd be able to compartmentalize his moment of perversion that way.

He just needed to stay away from the two of you for a little while.

But then, because of course...

"Munson!"

Eddie quietly groaned, taking a deep drag off his cigarette to quell his already rapidly growing nerves from just the sound of the other man's voice alone. He turned to face Billy, plastering what he hoped was an easygoing grin on his face.

"Hey, man," Eddie greeted, his voice surprisingly steady.

Billy held his hands up in a 'What the fuck?' kind of way, brows furrowed. "Thought we had a plan," the blonde replied, stopping just a foot away from the tall metalhead. One side of Hargrove's mouth lifted. He looked predatory. Eddie fought back a hard swallow. "Did you even come upstairs?"

"What..." Eddie's brain went blank at the question. Or was it an accusation? It definitely sounded like one, but Billy didn't seem mad. The blonde was just staring at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"Y'know," Billy continued. "Because I told you to meet me in the middle bedroom? For the coke?" What had started as the slight of a smirk had turned into a full-blown grin on Hargrove's face. "You good, Munson? Lookin' a little spooked.”

To this, Eddie sobered his expression, shaking his head. "No, just like, busy night, that's all," Eddie answered lamely. Maybe Billy really didn't know. Maybe Eddie was just hyper-paranoid about having been caught that he was reading too deeply into this. After all, wouldn't Hargrove have been pissed to find out he'd been spying? Wouldn't he already have Eddie pinned against the van, spewing threats? "Lotsa deals. Kinda forgot about yours, my bad. Here, lemme get it..."

Eddie began digging around in his pockets, having forgotten again where the coke was. He blamed the alarms of anxiety going off in his brain (thoughts like fuck, he probably knows, which means she knows, and now she's gonna fucking hate me plaguing him).

But Billy said, "Don't worry about it, I'm good. Got my energy hit a little bit ago." The blonde then looked like he had remembered something, and began looking in his own pockets, "Shit, actually. Ya know what? I have something for you."

Eddie was sure the look of confusion on his face was readable. This whole night was turning out to be a fucking fever dream. He didn't think anything else could happen to make it any more surreal.

And then Billy was reaching his hand out to give Eddie something, that I-know-something-you-don't smirk present again, and Eddie took it without looking. He just wanted Billy to walk away so he could go crawl into the back of his van and smoke himself stupid to avoid any and all realizations and repercussions.

"See you ‘round," were Billy's parting words and Eddie just nodded dumbly, mute, and watched him go.

Once Hargrove was out of sight, Eddie opened his hand. At first, it just looked like an unassuming wad of fabric, maybe a sock or something, small compared to the size of his palm.

Eddie unraveled it, holding it out in front of him, and then very quickly tossed it inside his open passenger window, eyes darting around to make sure no one had seen what Billy Hargrove had just given him —

The matching pair of panties to your bright red bra.

#billy x reader #billy hargrove x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #mungrove x reader #billy hargrove smut #eddie munson smut

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osaemu · 8 months

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・𖠗 EMAILS I CAN'T SEND EVENT !

with songs featuring gojo, geto, dazai, chuuya, and childe !

BEFORE YOU LISTEN . . .

careful, there's gonna be some pretty mature themes headin' in . . . sex, cheating, overthinking, y'know, the usual. it's hard being hot !

WHAT'S THE ALBUM ABOUT ?

well, i heard some guys from jujutsu kaisen, bungo stray dogs, and genshin impact are involved in the drama, maybe you know them !

TRACK 9: NONSENSE "baby i'm in too deep, here's a lil' song i wrote, it's about you and me"

꒰ pop star!reader x secret lover!gojo

being a pop star is tough, and maintaining a relationship alongside it is even harder. good thing you have a boyfriend to share the nights with, but what happens when those night-time specials start seeping into your daytime routine?

TRACK 10: FAST TIMES "tiptoeing past so many stages, but what the fuck is patience?"

꒰ coworkers with benefits ft. pm boss!chuuya

being a mafia boss is hard, and the stress that comes with it could kill. so, your boss's solution is to take it out on his pretty little secretary — you. one thing leads to another, and soon it becomes a regular thing. it's okay, it's not like he's gonna fuck you during work hours, right?

TRACK 11: SKINNY DIPPING "if we could take it all off and just exist, and skinny dip in water under the bridge"

꒰ break up –> make up ft. criminal!geto

when you found out he wasn't who he said he was, you dumped him on the spot, and after that you didn't see him for nineteen days. so what happens on the twentieth day when you run into him at your local coffee shop, and how did it end with his dick in your mouth?

TRACK 13: DECODE "you're good at impersonating someone who cares, and you had me for a minute there"

꒰ actor!reader x actor!dazai

your co-star is known for his acting prowess, and maybe he's just a little too good, because even when the lights are down and no cameras in sight, you can never seem to figure out if he means what he says. even when he's drunk in your sheets, every word seems carefully calculated to get something out of you — who knows what he wants?

TRACK 15: FEATHER "your signals are mixed, you act like a bitch, you fit every stereotype, send a pic"

꒰ it girl!reader x fuckboy!gojo

you're everything, and he's just another fuckboy. but even though he's the biggest dickhead you've ever met, you can't deny that he's very, very attractive. so what happens when you have one too many drinks and end up moaning his name all night long?

TRACK 16: LONESOME "did you think about her face with your hands around my waist? did you even give a fuck?"

꒰ exes with benefits ft. fuckboy!childe

you probably shouldn't still sleep with the boy who ruined your life, but hey, he's the only one who knows how to fuck you just right. even if he made you cry for a week straight, you'd rather be crying out his name than wallowing in self-pity at home. and it's not like you're gonna get back together with him, are you?

TRACK 17: THINGS I WISH YOU SAID "i saw you met somebody and i'm jealous as hell, that i can't even stomach loving somebody else"

꒰ cheating ft. ex boyfriend!dazai

maybe it's wrong to cheat on your current boyfriend with your ex, but you never moved on and apparently, neither did he. and shit, he's just as skillful with his words as ever, so just one night wouldn't hurt, right?

SO, WHEN CAN I HEAR THE STORIES ?

well, hannah'll tell you whenever she feels like it, but who knows what order she's whisper them to you in ? it'll be a surprise ~

CAN SOMEONE TELL ME WHEN THE STORY'S OUT ?

there's no taglist or anythin', but you can check back here to see if anything's leaked yet ! ++ maybe follow hannah and her tag, 'cause she said she'll post updates there . . . #✧ — emails i can't send

have fun listening! reblogs very appreciated xoxo –> signed, hannah

#✧ — docs #✧ — emails i can't send #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #childe x reader

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indigoflorals · 1 year

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would it be possible if you could write a Rafe Cameron smut where him and reader are at a party and he needs her so they go to the bathroom!

thank you x

Let Them

18+, public sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, daddy kink,

hi guys, this is one of the first things I've really really enjoyed that I've written in a while. if you like it, leave a reply or a reblog! id love your feedback <3

The hand that had spent most of the night on your upper knee had finally crept up to your thigh. Ward's party was boring, to celebrate some new business venture, but Rafe had to be there. It was his job, and with the past, he couldn't afford to risk his dads favor.

You felt eyes on you as you spoke to Rose. It was from close by, and the eyes lingered on the crack of your cleavage. You adjusted your dress to cover yourself, but Rafe swatted at you. "You look beautiful. I knew the dress I picked out would look amazing on you."

You blushed, still adjusting the dress for your own modesty. Your husband smirked at the flush on your face, placing a kiss to your cheek as he slid his hand further inside your thigh. Your chest heated as you felt his fingers toying with your panties. You were distracted, panting lightly as he rubbed over your clothed clit.

"Sweetheart?" He cooed innocently, "Rose asked you a question."

"Oh!" You snapped back, seeing eyes around the table suddenly on you. You could feel Rafe's smirk from beside you despite not being able to see him. "Sorry, just feeling a bit nauseous. What did you ask?" You smiled politely, stifling a moan.

"Oh, that's okay. Maybe it's finally morning sickness! You know we'd love a grandchild!" She laughed, grabbing Ward's arm as the rest of the table laughed along. You let out a forced smile, feeling Rafe's fingers slip past your panties.

With a cough, you stood, smoothing out your dress, "Excuse me. I'm gonna use the restroom." You stepped back from the table, stumbling a bit. Immediately, Ward waved a hand, "Rafe, go on and make sure your wife is alright."

Rafe nodded, pursing his lips, "Good idea."

Rafe's strong hand clasped around your throat as he thrust hard into you. "Let it all out baby. I want everyone at this party to know how much of a slut you are for me." You whined quietly, grinding back into him where your bodies met. Your ribs ached from being slammed into the porcelain sink, but in that moment, all you could feel was pleasure. Rafe's hand slid from your throat to your hip to stabilize himself. "This ass," He groaned, fisting the soft flesh, "Could fuck you like this for hours."

"Please, daddy," You cried, dipping your head to rest against the counter, "I need..."

"What?" He cooed, sliding a hand down to your clit, stopping before he touched you, "Does my baby need to come?"

"Yes," You hissed, feeling his slow, agonizing pace as he rubbed circles into your clit, "More!"

"If you need more," He thrust hard once making you cry out, "You're gonna have to be loud for me. Let everyone know who's making you come like this baby." You could tell he was close by his uneven pace, and you were too. You just needed a little bit more. "Rafe," You moaned, mindful of your volume, "Please. Everyone will hear."

"Let them," He grunted, "Beg. Louder."

"Daddy! Please fuck me harder!" You cried out loud, feeling him speed up immediately at your obedience. You were loud, and certain everyone had heard. But as soon as white spots flooded your vision, you didn't care. Your body shook, and you screamed in pleasure. Your knuckles were white as you gripped the edge of the sink.

"Oh, baby," Rafe moaned, wrapping a hand around your waist to fuck you hard as he came, "Gonna get you so pregnant. Fill you up with my cum." You shuttered as warmth filled you, and Rafe stilled, pulling you against his body as he did.

"Shit," He mumbled, kissing gently behind your ear, "There goes another good party, huh?"

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navybrat817 · 2 years

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A Price to Pay

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Female Reader, Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader Summary: Steve demands retribution when Ransom crosses a line. Ransom offers you as payment. Word Count: Almost 2.9k Warnings: Dubcon/Noncon elements (do not read if that upsets you), blackmail, coercion, choking, swearing, talks of violence, forced cheating, Ransom is an asshole, mob!Steve Rogers (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: Another old WIP completed! I began this in August of 2021. This will be connected to a future Bucky fic and I may expand on Steve's story if there is interest. ❤️ Beta read by the beautiful @little-diable and @sweeterthanthis, but any and all mistakes are my own. Banners by @maysdigitalarts and moodboard by yours truly. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

Ransom Drysdale was the worst mistake you ever made. The man exuded arrogance, yet you were somehow attracted to his confidence. Maybe it was because yours wasn't strong enough at the time. His charm won you over, even as you tried to resist. He didn't strike you as the type who wanted a long-term relationship, but he convinced you to give him a chance. He swore you wouldn't regret it.

"Best decision you'll ever make."

Fool me once, shame on you.

Ransom didn't deserve you. You figured that out when you caught him in the first lie. You weren't supposed to hear his phone call as he watched the news. He wasn't usually that careless, as you would later find out.

At first you thought he cheated on you. It would have explained his hushed calls and random outings after you moved in. You almost wished he had been seeing someone else. That would have made it easier to walk away and never look back.

"Yeah, I'm watching. Like I give a shit if his company falls or his wife leaves. Should've kept his dick in his pants. And you should've seen the stupid look on his face when I told him there were photos. I told him what would happen if he didn't wire the money. Fucker's paying for it now, isn't he?"

"... Ransom?"

"... Fuck. I'll call you back."

He brushed you off when you questioned him. He even tried to convince you that you were hearing things. He dropped the charade when he realized you weren't going to let it go.

"Just can't let me have my fun, can you?"

You thought Ransom came from money, which he had growing up. Somewhere along the way his grandfather cut him off. He had to find more creative ways to keep his cash flow going - like blackmail. Trading secrets and exposing scandals when necessary were second nature to him. And he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty.

But he swore he'd stop when he saw your tears.

"I'm done, pumpkin. It was the last one. Cross my heart."

Fool me twice, shame on me.

It was easier when you were blissfully unaware of the kind of man he truly was. The affectionate touches and gasps he drew from you couldn't wash away what he had done. He ruined lives just to keep his pockets full. And you knew in your heart he wouldn't let you go. Not because he loved you, but because you were a liability.

He made that clear when you caught him again and said you needed space.

"You're not leaving me."

You could barely walk by the time he was done fucking you that night. A sore reminder that crossing him wasn't a smart move. But he never raised a hand to you. He didn't leave visible scars. You carried them where no one could see. So why would your friends and family who were still around ever side with you?

"I own you. Don't you ever fucking forget it."

You weren't completely helpless. You played your part and learned a few secrets of your own, like how Ransom's grandfather really died. You pieced together that Ransom was the one who killed him, but he still didn't get enough money in the will to satisfy him.

He'll never be satisfied.

It took time and careful planning to make sure you had enough money set aside to leave. He dipped into your main account, of course, but you had a rainy day fund from before you met him that he would never touch. You could have a fresh start and maybe expose him in the process. But you still felt like a coward.

Was that why he chose to be with me? Because I'm weaker than him?

"Pumpkin, where are you?" you heard as the front door opened.

Glancing at the clock, you tried not to panic. He isn't supposed to be home yet. You quickly stashed your bag under the bed and swallowed the lump in your throat. "Coming!" you called back, smoothing out your dress and checking your reflection before you made your way downstairs to the study.

I can still leave tonight. I can even leave tomorrow. I'll be fine.

You took a deep breath before you entered the room, surprised to find two other men with Ransom.

"There she is. Finally," Ransom said, a glass of scotch already in hand.

Your heart raced in your chest as you glanced at the man who sat across from Ransom. His broad body radiated power and strength, his presence dominating the entire room. And he wasn't even standing. You expected his gaze to be harsh when he looked at you, but his blue eyes softened the longer he stared. You had to look away after a minute.

Your gaze landed on the figure beside him. The brunette looked just as intimidating as the blonde, his gaze cold. The corner of his lip tugged into a smile as he lifted his hand in a wave. It was a metal hand.

"Relax. We won't bite. Well… I won't."

Ransom rolled his eyes, "Pumpkin, take a seat. We need to talk."

Nothing good ever happened when someone needed to talk. "About what?" you asked as you sat in the empty chair on the other side of Ransom.

"This is Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes," he introduced, taking a sip of his scotch. "They're here on business."

You bit the inside of your cheek. You didn't want to judge these men, but you knew it had to be something shady. Nothing Random did was ever pure.

Steve shifted in his chair to face you. "Care to tell me your name, sweetheart? You don't strike me as the type who likes to be called 'pumpkin'."

You avoided Ransom's subtle glare as you cleared your throat and said it.

"It’s nice to meet you, though I wish the circumstances were better," he smiled gently. "For the record, we already know who you are. I know where your friends and family live. I know about that bakery you like to go to once a week. You treat yourself to a specialty donut. They're good."

You wished you had a glass of water to quench your dry throat. "You've been watching me?"

"It's part of my job to know people. Allies. Enemies. We also know you've been living here for some time. Before I get into why exactly we're here, I do have to ask even though I know the answer. Are you aware of what Ransom does?"

Ashamed, you merely nodded as your fingers twisted in your lap.

Steve's gaze was sympathetic as he continued. “Are you also aware that Ransom recently got into some trouble?"

You spared Ransom a quick glance. "What kind of trouble?"

"Doesn't matter," he said dismissively.

"It does matter," Steve said firmly, leaning forward in his chair. "It matters when your mouth gets one of my men killed."

Your stomach dropped as you took in Steve and Bucky's angry expressions. "You got someone killed?"

"Idiot got himself killed. Not my fault or my problem."

"He was a kid," Steve argued.

It earned him a shrug in response. "You brought the kids in, Rogers. Both of you knew what he was getting into. Don't blame me for his blood being on your hands."

The callousness shocked you, despite what you knew about Ransom. "How can you say that? How can you think so little of people?"

"Oh, it gets better," Bucky said sarcastically before Ransom could answer.

"What do you mean?" you asked nervously.

"I told you. He got one of my men killed. I took it personally," Steve explained. "I debated between killing him myself or having him sent to jail, but I'm a reasonable guy. I gave him a chance to tell his side of the story. Once he figured out I wasn't going to budge on some sort of retaliation, he offered me something."

You didn't like where this was going. "What exactly did he offer?"

"You."

You were waiting for the punchline. For someone to laugh. There was nothing funny about it as all three men stared at you. Bucky's expression remained the same, but there was sympathy in his eyes. Ransom looked proud of himself. It made you wish you could slap the smirk off his face. But Steve?

Steve's eyes were thoughtful, calculating. He was gauging your response. You almost opened your mouth to tell him you weren't worth the life of the man he lost, but what came out was, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Steve didn't look surprised by your outburst. Maybe he expected it. "Listen, please. I know-"

"No. You listen. I want nothing to do with whatever he did. I am so sorry that one of your men was killed, but please understand that I am not going to be a pawn in whatever this is."

Ransom had the gall to look embarrassed as you stood up. "You don't have a choice. Just let him fuck you and be done with it."

"Yes, I do have a choice. And I'm choosing to leave."

"You're not walking out that door," Ransom said, getting to his feet, too. "Just like you didn't the last time you tried to leave."

Humiliation flooded you as Steve and Bucky exchanged a look. Were they judging you? Did they pity you? "I'm going upstairs and getting my bag. I'm not cleaning up your mess. I'm done playing your games, Ransom. I'm done with you."

Ransom's jaw clenched as he marched over and grabbed you by your throat. "You think I give a shit what you want right now? I never did. You were just a fucking toy to keep my dick wet. And I'd let him and his entire fucking crew run a train on you if it keeps me out of jail."

Your eyes teared up as you looked into his eyes. There was no love there. Not at that moment. Did he ever love you?

"Do. You. Understand?"

The hand around your throat squeezed tighter, just enough to show that he could end you. You whimpered, but not because of the pain. It was a different kind of hurt you felt. The kind of hurt that couldn't be healed by false promises. That was what Ransom was: a false, empty promise.

I should have run the moment you walked into my life.

"Let her go."

Steve's words were softly spoken in the quiet room, but everyone felt the weight of them.

"Don't tell me what to do with my girl, Rogers."

"Right now, she's MY girl. Get your fucking hands off of her."

Bucky brandished his gun as he stood up, taking aim at Ransom. "He won't ask again. And I'd hate to ruin her pretty dress with your blood."

You almost missed the snarl he let out as he released you, coughing as you rubbed your neck. Your heart leapt as you looked over and caught Steve's gaze. The intensity in his eyes only grew as he began to walk across the room. You felt your breath leave your body again as he got closer. You didn't bother to step back because you were already caught.

Neither of you spoke a word when he stopped and brought his hands to your face. He cupped your cheeks with a certain kind of tenderness that surprised you as his eyes scanned your neck. A tear finally fell when his brows furrowed with concern. Why would he care when your own boyfriend didn't?

"The fuck are you doing?" Ransom snapped when Steve began to pepper gentle kisses along the column of your throat.

Your eyes slipped shut, but it wasn't completely out of fear. The feel of his lips should have made you shudder in disgust, but you found yourself craving more. Was it pathetic? You didn't care.

"I told you, she's my girl now," Steve murmured against your skin. "And if I ever see you touch her like that again, I'll tear you apart. Limb from limb."

Ransom's laugh sounded bitter and ugly as you opened your eyes. "You want my sloppy seconds so badly, be my guest. Little slut's probably creaming herself from the attention."

"This whole thing is your fault, Ransom," you reminded him, another bitter tear falling from your eye. The anger whirling inside you couldn't be contained any longer. "So if you're going to offer me up like a slut, the least I can do is enjoy it."

Steve kissed up to the corner of your mouth, smiling. "Enjoy it? Oh, sweetheart," he breathed, "By the time I'm done with you, you won't even remember he existed. Because every thought of him will be fucked out of you. I can promise you that."

You shivered and dared to glance at Ransom out of the corner of your eye.

“You really are a fucking slut,” he sneered before Bucky pressed the gun to his temple.

“No one twisted your arm to offer her.”

"I could just let you kill him,” you pointed out to Steve, the last shred of sympathy for Ransom fading as another tear slid down your cheek.

"I'd take you anyway," Steve whispered, brushing his lips against your cheek to take the tear away. "I wanted you the moment I saw you and I'm a very determined man."

You were light on your feet as you brought a hand up to wrap around his wrist. Something to keep you from falling. "I won't be a pawn. If you're going to keep me, actually keep me, prove to me why I shouldn't run."

"I have ways to keep you from running," his voice deepened, a flash of Ransom dragging you to bed filling your mind. "But I'd rather not chase you away to begin with."

“She loves to put up a fight. Helps her sleep at night instead of admitting she’s as fucked up as the rest of us.”

You weren't sure if it was the disdain in Ransom's voice or the rage in Steve's eyes, but a surge of unexpected power emerged from the bitterness. "What was it you said, Ran? You'd let his men run a train on me if it keeps you out of jail?"

"What are you suggesting, sweetheart?" Steve asked, his gaze curious as he pulled back to regard you.

"While I don't want that, I want Ransom to watch you fuck me," you spoke, standing a bit straighter as you looked him in the eye. You refused to look weak. "I want him to see you split me open with your cock and make me cry from how good it feels. When you're done, then I'll forget he ever existed."

Bucky chuckled, but you didn't look his way. You didn't dare look away from Steve as his gaze drifted to your lips. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. My wife's gonna love you."

"Done," Steve whispered before his mouth descended on yours.

You didn't fight as his tongue slid past your parted lips. You welcomed his dominance, his control. Oh, he was going to make you become addicted. The dampening in your panties was a sure sign of that.

"You're fucking stupid if you think I'll watch him fuck her!"

Ransom's voice wasn't enough to break the spell that Steve's kiss had over you. Maybe you were trading one evil for another, but this was the door you willingly walked through. You threw away the key the moment you took Ransom's hand.

Now you'd have a better hand to guide you.

"You'll watch," Bucky promised. "But, punk, my doll might kill me if I have to watch, too. You understand."

The almost lighthearted tone of Steve's friend was enough to stop the kiss, giving you a moment to take a much needed deep breath. "Get Ari over here. He'll make sure he keeps his eyes open."

"You fucking-"

You jumped when Bucky smacked Ransom in the face with his gun, effectively cutting off his next words. The hit made his nose bleed and you took sick pleasure in watching it stain his sweater, his hands flying up to try and stop it. If you were the sacrifice, he had to pay in blood for your offering.

"Any other conditions or questions?" Steve asked, turning your face back toward him as your now ex's swears and groans were muffled.

"Will you be good to me?”

“You have my word and I’ll do what I can to make sure you trust me.”

Ransom may have been your worst mistake, but the silver lining was that you'd no longer be in his prison. Your body was a small price to pay to join Steve in a larger, better cage. You could still fly. Maybe you’d give him your heart in time.

Maybe you could also convince Steve to take Ransom down anyway. For his grandfather, for the kid, for you. For every person he hurt.

You won't die, Ransom, but you'll pay. Everyone has to pay for their sins eventually.

“Then we should get started," you stated, sealing your fate.

"Call Ari. Now," Steve ordered Bucky, looking at Ransom with an unsympathetic smile. “You heard her. Let’s get started.”

*****

Hope to share more soon. Love and thanks! ❤️

#navybrat writes #steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers au #steve rogers #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x you

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months

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The Assistant 10

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, cheating, creep behaviour.

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

Summary: As an assistant at the Daily Planet, you’re rarely noticed. Until you are.

Characters: Clark Kent

Note: I had to get this out of my head.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Lord Farquaad loves unnecessary vowels. Take care. 💖

🖊🖊🖊

You drop your phone, shaking with panic and horror. It’s not real. It can’t be. Lois isn’t dead, it’s just an argument, just a fight. You don’t know what you saw.

You were so surprised by the call, you can’t possibly have understood what was going on. It was just so sudden. It didn’t happen.

You stand dumbfounded, unsure what to do next. There's a sickening silence filled with the echoes of Lois' struggle and the piercing timbre of Clark's wrath. You shudder and it rolls through the floor. It takes you a moment to realise that the reverberations are really. Your phone vibrates violently between your feet.

Shit! Shit! What do you do?

You grab it out of instinct but can't bring yourself to answer the call, knowing before you look who it is. You search the room as if you might find an escape. There is none.

You rush to the bed and shut off the lamp, casting yourself in darkness. You don't think, you let your adrenaline guide you. You roll under your blankets and nestle down, clearing your throat as the call times out. Fuck.

It isn't long before the rattle begins again. You wait a few rings and answer, the small frame where you should be filled with shadow. You murmur groggily, not sure how convincing you really are.

"Hmm, what's going on?" You babble as you rustle in the bed. Clark watches you with an addled expression, his brows furrowed, his eyes almost seem to glow.

"I just called," he gristles out ans rubs the apple in his throat, "you picked up…"

"Wha–I've been sleeping," you cough, pressing yourself into the pillow as your ball your other hand. Your heartbeat hammers in your temples, "my phone was in my bed, maybe…"

"Sleeping?" He mutters as a line dips in his forehead.

"I was waiting for your call and must've fallen asleep," you utter.

"Turn your light on," he demands.

You wince, happy he can't see the fear coursing through you. Now is the real test, you have to play this right. You sit up, doing your best to mess up your appearance before you reach to the lamp.

"I've been sick all day," you lie and lean back against the headboard, "sorry…"

He's quiet. You try not to look at your image in the corner, instead you focus on him. He's trying to figure it all out.

"Baby," you make your voice as soft as you can, "maybe it's going around. Are you feeling alright?"

He seems struck my the question. He swallows and there's a shift as he sits down, letting out a sigh. He flicks a curl away from his forehead.

"Maybe," he relents as his shoulders drop, "you miss me?"

You stare into the deep blue pools of his eyes. You don't know if he believes you. You put your hand below your throat, his gaze follows the gesture. You rub your chest and force another cough.

"Ugh, yeah," you make yourself lie, "I just feel so cruddy."

"Aw, honey, I wish I was there to take care of you. Maybe I can come home early," he offers, "things aren't going so well here. Lois… is off doing her own thing. I may as well have just stayed behind."

"Oh," you try not to react to her name, "I'm sorry–"

"Sorry…" he repeats, quiet but with a hint of resent, "she… you… you're too sweet." He moves his phone as he hangs his head, "you care so much about me, I just wish… wish it didn't have to be this way."

"Just… get some sleep," you coax, "I'm sure we'll both feel better in the morning."

"You're probably right," he croaks and sits up with a deep snort, "hard to sleep without you here."

"Yeah, I know," you eke out.

"Will you… will you stay on until I fall asleep?" He asks, almost pathetic as his tone cracks.

"Sure," you whisper, "I'll stay on."

You fight the swell of fear deep in your stomach and turn onto your side. You watch the screen as he stands and moves around slowly, almost as if he's dazed. You focus on breathing, on counting each inhale and letting it out slow. You try not to think of what he could do to you if he knew what you saw.

🖊

You don't sleep. Not even after you end the call at Clark's rumbling snores. You just sit there and stare at the shadows cast against your wall.

You can't just wait for him to come back. This might be your only chance. Didn't this all start because you were afraid of just that, missing a once in a lifetime chance.

You get up before the sun. You don't have a plan, just a first step. One you're not even sure is a good idea.

You draft your resignation and schedule it to be sent on Monday. You pack a single bag, not much, just what you need, and leave your apartment with your phone in hand. You won't miss it, he tainted it.

You head down to the street and walk a full block before working up your courage. You don't know if you should even try. He has no obligation to you. You wouldn't blame him for laughing in your face. But… he was nice.

You hit Richard's profile and wait for the dial to pick up. It's late, or early. You lean against a building as you watch the sky change.

"Brant," he answers with his last name, voice sandy and thick.

"Hey," you squeak, second thoughts bubbling up, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't–"

"What's wrong?" He asks, his languid tone rising to urgency, "hey, what's going on?"

"I… I can't…"

You can't tell him. Even with how much you want to. You can't say the words and he wouldn't believe you. Who would?

"It's… barely three," he yawns, "must be important, so…"

"I…" you sniffle and drag yourself away from the wall, "I need help and you're… the only person I know…"

"You know, I've had a lot of writer's ask me for favours, but they're usually a lot more to the point–"

"I need to hide," you blurt out, "please, before he gets back."

"Who?" He asks.

You're silent. You can't get your thoughts straight. You don't blame him for thinking you're crazy, you must sound it.

"Kent," he says bluntly and you quiver. "What did he do to you?"

You don't answer. He says your name. You can't. You feel like your choking.

"Where are you?" He demands and you can hear him shifting and moving around.

"I shouldn't have–"

"Tell me," he says as fabric rustles beneath his gravelly voice.

You whimper and look around. You're by some pawn shop. You give him the name and he sighs.

"Stay there," he orders over the jingle of keys, "please."

🖊

You're numb as you sit in the passenger seat of Richard's car. You remember the last time you were in that very spot. When he dropped you off after dinner and Clark was waiting for you. How long had he truly been waiting to strike?

How could it have ever got to this?

Richard drives without a word. You barely recall him arriving or getting into the car. Everything around you is blurry. Your own hands feel like weights attached to your arms.

The car slows as you sink back against the seat. His window rolls down with a whir you barely hear. You don't look. He continues on, the motion soothing as you close your eyes and hiccup.

He idles again, motor humming as he daintily touches your arm.

"Got you a tea," he says gently, "hey, take a breath."

Your eyes snap open and you wipe your face, only realising then you're sobbing. You sit forward and sniff, inhaling until it hurts. He lifts a cup from the plastic holder and offers it. You accept it with a murmur and peel back the lid.

"You don't have to go into detail but I'd like to know what is going on," he says as he puts his hand back on the wheel, slowly stepping down on the gas.

You blow out a shuddery heave and gulp. You sip tenuously, wetting your throat as you try to sort through your thoughts. Where do you begin? What do you even say?

"He's scary," your voice creaks, "he's dangerous…" you shake your head and cradle the tea, trying to feel the heat of the cup, trying to cling to it. "He won't leave me alone."

"I kinda figured but Clark's just a bit strange, isn't he?" Richard says, "office flirt."

"It's more than that, he's…insane!"

"He's married, he's not going to do anything more than talk," he scoffs.

Your chest cranks and your stomach lurches. You look at him, sight pinpointing on him, "you…"

"A bit of an overreaction–"

"Why did you come if you don't believe me?"

"Believe what? I have no idea what's gone on. By the sounds of it, he's only having some fun on the side."

"Fun?! He– he is stalking me. He won't go away and now–" you stop short and huff. His chuckle makes you want to scream. He's laughing at you.

"You're laughing at me?" You reach for the door, "stop the car. Now. Let me out."

"It just seems a bit absurd, calling me at the crack of dawn because you have a horndog for a boss–"

"You're not listening to me. It's not just that," you insist, your body buzzing with anger. "Stop the car. Let me out. You–"

"Calm down. Fine, I'm all ears, did he get handsy at the water cooler?"

"Just stop the car."

"Don't be–"

"Stop!" You fling the cup at him and it lands in his lap, exploding and leaking down his pants.

He veers in surprise and the car slides sideways. Suddenly, your seat jolts as something falls onto the roof, crushing it so you're forced down in your seat. You look up and whine, fumbling to undo your seatbelt as a red glare slices through the metal.

Sparks rain down as the laser changes directions, confusion stirring your wits as you watch in dread and sink down onto the floor of the car. Richard grunts beside you and jams his fingers into the buckle of his seatbelt, swearing as it repels.

"What the fuck was that? Fucking–" he gestures to his wet pants in frustration, clueless to what's happening above him.

The metal peels back loudly as you cry out. You shield yourself and holler for Richard to watch out as you see the eerie figure floating above in the half-dim of the early morning. His eyes glow red and his veins are dark beneath his skin. Yet this is not Superman in his rippling cape but a villain in an undone button-up and slacks. It's Clark!

The vaunted caped crusader, the saviour of Metropolis and earth, the elusive good citizen. All along, he's just another twisted monster. He's a nightmare come to life.

He tosses aside the shorn square of metal as if it's nothing. He grabs Richard and wrenches him off the seat, clutching his jaw and dangling him like a ragdoll. Richard writhes and squirms as Clark's eyes flash. Suddenly a red beam sears into Richard's skull and a rain of bone and tissue tain down around you.

You shriek in terror as blood oozes down onto the interior and Clark drops Richard's corpses into the ruin. His feet plant on the hood and he bends, reaching blindly down to grab you from beneath the dashboard. He hauls you up effortlessly by your arm, lifting you before him as his eyes continue to flare.

You grasp onto his thick forearm as you hang from his unbending grip, "you're supposed to be a hero…" you gasp in disbelief.

"And you're supposed to love me," he snarls.

You close your eyes and raise your arm, waiting for your turn. This is it. The end.

"But I love you," his voice shatters.

He snakes his arm around you and pulls you close. The world bounces and the air tunnels around you. A scream erupts from your lungs as you barrel into the void.

You bury your head in his shoulder, peeking out from the slits of your eyes to see the vast and endless sky all around you. You're flying yet you've never felt so trapped.

#dark clark kent #dark!fic #series #fic #dark fic #clark kent x reader #clark kent #dark!clark kent #the assistant #dc #superman

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sunshines-child · 6 months

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@avaetin asked if I could analyze Nicobaster and Nion but i'm stupid so uhh

I didn't know where to start, so I'm going by what their form of love and why. (maybe if I get some ideas I'll put them in the reblogs. Who knows) Nion- Pragma (enduring love) Aeon is literally a primordial (Nico used to be one) and somehow, neither of them committed infidelity. Right after Ananke dipped and became Nico, Aeon literally searched for him for multiple lifetimes, and was willing to stay through every one. That shit is enduring. (I need me some of that) NicoBaster: Philia (affectionate) Unfortunately, there isn't a type of love with the definition, "I act like you are a minor annoyance, but I'm so smitten I would kill for you." So Philia it is. Even though they've never even met the fanfics love these two so here it is. So turns out this is short as fuck so here are some headcanons to make up for it. Nion: - I've already had this little convo with Ava, but Nico is multilingual mostly because Aeon keeps on talking to him in different languages, and Nico wants to know what the fuck Aeon's said to him while they're making out. -Aeon is a petty hoe. When he proposes to Nico the ring literally has gem flowers symbolizing all the suitors on them, and it's not to be considerate. No no noooo he does it to go "now whenever you see him you will know that you failed" -Aeon is very affectionate. It's not anything big, but he's always leaving small kisses and squeezes Nico's just a little bit tighter and leaving the lightest marks just so that Nico knows that he is loved. Nicobaster: -The amount of times Nico has threatened to punch Alabaster in the balls is honestly funny. (@yonemurishiroku you can now die in peace) Tread careful, Alabaster. -If nobody has noticed from my little comics, Alabaster often picks Nico up. Nico does not like being picked up at all. He will unleash the most eldritch horror screech you have ever heard. Do not let his pretty voice fool you. (Alabaster continues to pick him up anyways) -Nico often pops up at Al's house just to stay for a bit. Alabaster is smitten and never says no. (Claymore likes Nico quite a bit, since he finally cleaned that god-forsaken lawn and made it look good)

#nicobaster #primordial god! chronos x ananke! nico #nicodiangelo #alabaster torrington #aeon #pjo #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson #nion

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usedtobecooler · 4 months

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I've said it once and I'll say it a million times. No one knows what your friendly neighborhood smut writer is doing behind the scenes in real life!! Just because some people don't want to mix their fandom space with the horrific goings on in the world doesn't mean they are bad people that don't care about the genocide. I'm fully aware that it's a privilege for me to even be able to say that. To even have a fun fandom space while innocent people are dying. But wanting to have my small escape from the horrors does not make me a bad person. These people have no idea who we are and what kind of advocacy we do behind the scenes. I'm lucky to be smaller here, so people don't give a shit what I think for the most part. But I'm so sick of seeing bigger blogs be harassed to 'make a statement' or 'use their platform' to spread awareness. You Candy are obviously okay with mixing the two and I think that's fantastic for you and I'm so glad you could come back at that anon with receipts since they pretty much just wanted to bitch at you and didn't event take a second to scroll your blog. But I don't think you should be expected to and it makes me so angry to see people trying to come at you about it like there isn't already enough unnecessary hate in the world.

i think you’ve articulated this message beautifully. like you said, we are very privileged and in this situation we are incredibly lucky. i understand people wanting to protect their mental health and keep things away from what is considered a comfort zone, at the end of the day the atrocities we’re seeing following us into our fandom space can only act as a deterrent and make us no longer feel comfortable with logging on. and that is a privileged thing to say, and we are lucky to even have the option to turn off from it, but the way people feel is valid. like i said, this isn’t about me, but my mental health has dipped dramatically during my activism in this genocide, and not everybody is equipped to deal with that. for people to blindly dismiss that is truly awful.

at the same time, my blog is primarily a smut and fanfiction space. i do not feel comfortable with reading and writing about sex, then immediately reblogging pictures and videos of dead civilians and other atrocities. i believe there’s a time and a place where it’s better put, hence why i used the blackout to reblog on this account, and use my own personal accounts to post as much as i can. i find it distasteful to talk about dead children and in the next breath talk about having sex with fictional men, this is my own personal opinion.

i feel like this needs to be a reminder to people that they’re actively creating a parasocial relationship with strangers, where they think because they see us post once or twice a day they suddenly know everything about us and where we stand. at the end of the day we are all strangers who know nothing about others real lives, and it’s disturbing and frankly disappointing how quickly people will blanket others with a narrative to suit them. everybody needs to do better.

#anon ask

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goldenstarprincesses · 5 months

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Henlo! You rebloged my post about France in fanfiction and I wanted to reply to it because I found what you said interesting, but because you used just tags would be goofy to reblog it again so I am sending an ask!

I agree about the cannon not helping, the thing is France got better in the cannon, he is more interesting now. I am not very into Prussia so I don't remember if he got better in later parts. But this thing about him being the worst in PruCan fanfic isn't something I noticed in Brazilian Fanfics or maybe I just don't remember lol

I wrote my post at 1 AM and now I stopped to think about what annoys me about how simple and awful Francis' characterization is and I noticed that it simply doesn't have a reason. When I was writing my fic, I wanted to make him bad in a European kind of way, he is France, France really did a lot of shit, he is kind of goofy and useless now? Yes, but that wasn't the case in the Early Modern era.

I also never saw no one exploring his sexuality. Why is Francis overly sexual? Why is he so dramatic? Why is he always trying to get in someone's pants? Real people have reasons to act overly sexual, they aren't just born this way, but WHY I NEVER SEE NO ONE ASKING THOSE QUESTIONS??

Thank you for rebloguing my post and confirming I wasn't just seeing things lol

Hiii! First, I adore your blog. Thank you for introducing me to the world of TurkFra. My eyes have been opened and my mind widened.

I almost think the fandom needed to go through the "dark times" or "dark age" of character interpretation to get where we are now. I know there was for sure a shift happing when I dipped out of the fandom in 2016ish. And when I started occasionally reading fanfics again during lockdown I was blown away with the shifts regarding the characterization of nearly all the characters.

Totally agree with you 100% about interpreting a character like France in a way where he is bad shit person, because of the actual actions of France. Imo its really important to include things like that into every nations characterizing when engaging in more "real life inspired" characterization. Almost have to wonder if the rise in popularity of historical hetalia has had anything to do with this change. While it was sorta a thing in the early years of the fandom, it didn't really seem to have much of a collective following and community. And now it seems that characters of empires/colonists like France/England/America/Russia etc. have shifted away from being written to have very goofy and comically negative traits more in-line with the 2008-2012ish canon to having their negative traits rooted more in the real-life negative habits or traits of the real world nations. I'd also wonder if the average age in the fandom has gone up which has helped characters simply be better developed.

The "bad touch trio" was super common back in the day. It was France/Prussia/Spain. Pretty much the entire characterization for them all ended up being sex addicts who went around well, SA or SH other nations. That mixed with the very silly "everything is based on basic national stereotypes" vibe of early canon I think just made i so a character like France ("nation of love"/the idea that the French are much more sexually liberated then the English or Americans) was very one-sided even when other charters were getting a little bit better of treatment. I also always felt like France was never as popular in the American/English fandom as American and England. So he (and often Canada) would sorta just thrown into things without much development character-wise.

You bring up so many good points!!! legit I have always thought about things like this.

#I had this all written up and my internet went out for the rest of the night 😭 lost all of it #hws france #hws america #hws england #historical hetalia #hetalia discussions #hws russia #tw sa mention #tw SH mention

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mlmxreader · 11 months

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Great Violence, Great Tenderness | Bane x m!reader

anonymous asked: Hi! Hope you're well. Since you want to write Bane, who am I to deny you so could I please request a little something for Bane X non-binary or male!reader using the following: "Promise me something"+"Stay with me"+"I don't wanna be alone" Enjoy the big tittied man 😉 and thank you. 🐍anon

summary: Bane is capable of great acts of extreme violence, but when it comes to his boyfriend, violence is the last thing on his mind.

tws: swearing, mentions of violence

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

You sniffled as you made your way into the bunker, trying to wipe away the tears as best as you could so that he wouldn't see them, knowing that he would absolutely go and break whoever was responsible; you tried to make it look like allergies more than anything, so when he didn't bat an eye as you cautiously made your way to the bunk in the corner, you were relieved.

Bane was known for violence of all kinds, people refused to work with him because they were either scared or they knew his reputation; but you were never scared of him, and his reputation never drove you away for even a second. You trusted Bane with every single thing in the world, he knew you as well as he knew himself, and while that may have been a dangerous thing for others, he made it clear that it wasn't for you.

But when you laid down, you weren't expecting the cool metal of a familiar mask to be pressed against the back of your neck so soon, and to feel a heavy arm flopped over your side as the bunk dipped slightly. You leaned into the embrace, squirming to get close to the warm and familiar presence.

"Bane?"

"Yes?"

"I don't wanna be alone," you said quietly. "Not tonight. Can you stay?"

"Of course!" He said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I promised I would look after you for as long as you want to be my partner, my ally, didn't I?"

"I know, but…" you shrugged. "I dunno, I thought maybe you had more important things than, y'know, your boyfriend."

"Oh, little one," Bane tutted, shaking his head. Gently, he moved you onto your back, and pressed his forearms onto the bunk either side of your head so that you were terribly close to that mask of his, forced to look into his eyes. "Nothing is more important than you. I shall tell the Scarecrow that he can wait. If he's as eager to break the Bat as he seems, then he will."

You nodded. "I'm sorry if I threw a spanner in the works."

He shook his head again. "You didn't. You've been crying." His expression turned cold, merciless. "Who?"

"Just…" you swallowed thickly. "Y'know I was working for Sionis?"

Bane nodded.

"He had a massive go at me today," you explained, "told me that I was doing a shit job, and all sorts, all because I finished half an hour late - but it wasn't my fault!"

"I see," he said lowly. "Did you contact Harley?"

You shook your head. "I know she hates him more than anyone, but I just… I can't do it right now."

"You ought to unionise," Bane told you. "Sionis is corrupt, and full of greed. You should start a union."

"I don't wanna talk about it," you whispered. "Please."

Slowly, Bane nodded, pressing his mask against your lips like he always did to mimic a kiss. It made you smile a little. "How can I help?"

You shrugged. "Just… stay with me? Please?"

He nodded, lowering himself beside you and letting you crash your body into his; he could feel your breathing against his exposed skin, and hummed ever so quietly as he put his arms around you. A man of extreme violence, yet so careful with you.

Few people knew about you, Bane preferred it that way; Harley was your friend, an incredibly smart woman, Bane trusted her when it came to you. The Scarecrow was different. Bane didn't trust him, or anyone. Everyone was a corrupt and vile bastard, and so was Scarecrow. Bane did everything he could to keep you safe and to ensure you were well protected; but even he knew that he couldn't protect you from everything.

You still had to work, still had to go out and to make money every evening; he wasn't an idiot. If he could have, he would have robbed every bank in the country and put aside just enough for you both to survive. He sighed, attempting to pull you closer even though it wasn't possible, and pressed the mask to the back of your neck as he closed his eyes for a moment.

"Promise me something," you said softly.

"Anything."

"Don't do anything reckless," you told him gently. "You're still wanted dead or alive thanks to the bomb incident."

"I was going to liberate Gotham," Bane said. "I was going to free it of corruption and greed, and allow it to be given back to the people."

"I'm not saying you were wrong," you hummed. "I'm just saying, be careful. Please. Even if it's just for me?"

"If it's for you, then I will be," he agreed. "You know I will."

"Thank you," you mumbled, stretching and laughing softly when he moved a little to allow you to get comfortable. "You know I worry about you."

"I am Gotham's reckoning, not the other way around," he pointed out. "You shouldn't worry."

"But I do," you whispered. "I love you, and I care about you, I'm your boyfriend and it's… it's my job to worry, I don't wanna come home and find that you've been shot and left to rot in the one place we've actually ever been able to call home."

"I understand," Bane mumbled. "But try to get some sleep, little one. Please."

You nodded, squirming around and trying to get as comfortable as you could cuddled into him; you ended up moving down a little bit so that your face was pressed against his chest, your arms around him tightly as you clung onto him like he was a big teddy bear.

Bane listened to your breathing, listened to it growing softer and more even; he relaxed at the sound, closing his eyes even though he did his best to stay awake so he could make sure that nothing would wake you.

But he couldn't help it.

Your breath was so soft against his skin, and the fact that you were so close and so warm, it was all too irresistible.

It wasn't long before Bane fell asleep alongside you.

#mlem writes #bane x reader #bane imagine #bane fanfic #bane #the dark knight rises #the dark knight trilogy #the dark knight #tom hardy x you #tom hardy x reader #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy

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indouloureux · 2 years

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I dont know if this would be too specific of a request so please ignore if it is but would you be able to do joe or eddie comforting reader after they end a really toxic friendship?

thank you for requesting! ❤️

eddie sets the glass of water in front of you, the cold drops falling onto the table, and you mentally tell him to put on a coaster but you don't find it in yourself to actually say it as you hear him sigh, the couch dipping from his heavy drop beside you.

"so what's up?" his voice is questioning, tilts into the curious direction. your finger runs through the back of your earlobe to push nothing away. eddie's hand stalls on your shoulder for an awaiting comfort.

"remember, uh, carol?" you clear your throat. "the one that used to hang out with steve harrington? she and her boyfriend slut shamed nancy wheeler and spray painted that- thing- remember?"

"yeah?" eddie removes his hovering hand, lets it stay still on his lap. "yeah, um. i do. i used to go to class with her until she graduated last year."

you blink rapidly. "yes! well, um, we're not friends anymore."

he leans back, palms swiping across his knees as he processes the information he doesn't even need but kind of wants to hear. "what happened?"

"remember when i drove you to your band practice last week?" he nods. "well- she wasn't really fond of you. i don't even know why she's still here in hawkins but, she told the others and they said that i shouldn't even be hanging out with you."

"what- what did you say?"

"that they don't get to tell me who i get to hang out with," you scratch your eyebrow. "so, yeah, i guess i got nancy wheeler-ed."

eddie's eyes widened. "they spray painted on the marquee again?"

"yeah. except this time i'm not a slut. so i guess that's a plus point." you laugh sardonically. "anyway i- i don't even know why i came to you. i just, i need to talk about it, i guess? because i think i made a mistake..."

"what, breaking up with them?" he shifts closer to you. "you didn't make a mistake. that actually was a pretty fucking wise decision that you did. it's far from a mistake."

you take the glass of water from the table, a wet ring left behind as you take a sip. "when i started high school, eddie, i didn't really have any friends," you trace the lips of the glass. "they took me in and- they became my 'friends'. they made me feel like i was known, or i was seen because i was with them. but the thing is, they tried changing me. i was happy being seen as who i was but they wanted me to be like them."

eddie furrows his eyebrows, leans closer to listen carefully at each word. "and, i don't know? i guess i kind of feel like i used them just so i would feel important at least once in my life before all of this is over. but they never really cared, you know? they only ever really cared about themselves. and they got mad that i didn't want to be this- this jackass of a daddy's girl. and i did want them to be my friends, hoping maybe they'd change—"

"but they didn't," he takes the glass from you and sets it on the table. "so you feel guilty for using them? but, they're assholes. they were using you, too. they wanted to make their weird bitch pack even bigger — sorry i called them a bitch."

"it's okay," you chuckle. "they- they are a bitch. i guess maybe the reason why i feel like i made a mistake is because i don't have any more friends. they were the only ones i ever really had."

eddie stays silent for a bit. and with you not looking in his direction, you hear the couch squeak and see him kneel in front of you, hands joint together in the space between his knees, looking up at you through his small eyelashes.

"i can be your friend," he shrugs. "it has it's cons though. like, you're no longer popular but you're a freak," he lifts one finger, then another with his other hand tapping on them. "you'll probably get shit on by them a lot. you'll have to sit lunch with us. and your reputation is forever damaged."

you grin. "i think i can manage that."

reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3

#eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #fluff #joseph quinn #joseph quinn blurb #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x y/n #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn fanfiction

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eartheats · 5 months

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hello hello! (again!)

been a bit since I did an updated one of these, huh??? but it's been about a year since i did my original one, so!!! time for a new introduction post!

(art made by the wonderful @professor-amaryllis's player!!!)

anyway, hello!!! my name is ren (they/them or ze/zir!!), i'm 24 years old and welcome to my silly lil blog! i mostly use this to reblog orthworm and orthworm accessories!!! i'm a pokemart worker who's on leave at the moment, and i'm currently sort of a student at the blueberry academy! i'm currently taking some researcher courses there, and i'm tryin' my hardest to become an authority in steel type pokemon! though, uh, most of my experience is with my favorite pokemon, who i'm guessin' y'all can tell who it is. heehee

but uh, what else...i've actually got a fair amount of experience as a steel type trainer, and most of my research is focused on orthworm! their environmental impact and their role in the ecosystem is just fascinatin' to me, especially livin' near 'em in zapapico for most of my life! that's actually how i befriended my big ol' lug of a partner, lulu, who you'll be hearin' about a LOT on this blog heehee. he's been my buddy since i was a tyke, and we've been trainin' together for almost two decades at this point!

arc, i'm probs gonna ramble forever if i keep this up. i guess i can basically summarize everythin' else!!! i used to be a student at the old uva academy, and it sucked! was a student at the new one too, but circumstances have made keepin' up with that and blueberry stuff a lil harder than expected. i got my foot in the door originally workin' at the montenevera chansey supply, so i know a lil bit about pokemon medicine too if ya ever need advice.

i'll leave y'all with a trainer card, if ya ever need to contact me please feel free to shoot me an ask!!! promise i won't bite. maybe i'll make one'a them faqs at some point...and maybe a page for my pokemon!! that'd be real neat heehee

((ooc info below the cut!))

HELLO ONE AND ALL my name is Sable (they/them exclusively), late 20s, nothing's really changed all that much but I needed to make an updated intro for Ren at some point anyway, so now seemed to be a good time!

guess to set some basic ground rules:

follows will come from @shinydracozolt! that is my main blog full of weird shit, so uh, don't be alarmed.

Pelipper mail type things are on, but I can turn them off if I wish to. I will let everyone know if I decide to do this.

I have not Tumblr RP'd before, please be gentle with me.

Blog will occasionally dip feet into the High Stakes pool, especially with current plots going on in the background regarding Ren's mother, who's kind of a messy shitshow of a person. Ren's backstory in general is kind of a mess! Mom is evil with connections to Team Flare and dad is dead so uh. Whoops.

This blog will occasionally delve into sensitive topics, mostly with ask games and such. The ones that mostly pertain to Ren are: mental abuse by a parent, bullying at the old Uva, the massive shut in arc they had between ages 14-18, underage drinking (they still partake and aren't an alcoholic, but they and the bottom of a bottle go way back, so to speak), and occasional mentions of weed. (they themselves don't do it but a friend and coworker of theirs is a stoner. these posts will be tagged accordingly)

There will be occasional shenanigans with @ribesrubrum! Basically I had Ren befriend a canon character in their Kitakami arc and didn't want to potentially make things awkward, so they will interact occasionally. Don't be alarmed!

Lemme know if you need any trigger tags accommodated and I shall do my best! My memory is not the greatest thing in the world but I will do my best. <3

Would prefer no NSFW sent Ren's way, they are ace as hell. There may be occasional mentions of it from other blogs, but they'll be tagged accordingly.

Not exactly open to shipping with Ren because, once again, the whole ace deal, but if something starts to go that way feel free to let me know? But I am going to say no automatically if the player is a minor and the character in question is not 21+.

Can't really think of anything else I wanna say, but I mostly play fast and loose with shit and Ren's kind of off in their own little world sometimes lmao

#pokemon #pokeblogging #pokemon irl #pkmn irl #rotomblr #ren talks

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