#like that one time my relative was getting on my nerves as they were dusting off the carpet in their car | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cleo-fox · 5 months

Text

Unraveled

Summary: It was all fun and games until Loki started wearing that goddamn sweater.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, dirty talk, praise kink, teasing, orgasm delay, sex, vaginal fingering, godly refractory periods, kitchen sex, semi public sex, Loki in a sweater.

A/N: My explanation for this one is that I saw too many pictures of Tom Hiddleston in a sweater and it gave me thoughts.

Being an Avenger has made you pretty good at rolling with the punches. After your third or fourth encounter with some alien/wizard/android bullshit, your perspective is fundamentally altered and real life seems manageable in a way that it didn’t before. You have to call your insurance company to dispute a claim? Big deal, you’ve negotiated with terrorists; you can handle Garth from Member Services.

The thing is, having that kind of perspective means that the things that do get to you can rattle you a lot more than they should. Natasha had warned you about that, but you were riding high on the thrill of successfully conquering Blue Cross Blue Shield and you kind of got to thinking she was exaggerating.

And then the seasons started to turn and Loki started wearing that goddamn sweater.

You can recognize when someone is out of your league. When you first moved into the Tower, it had been relatively easy for you to assign Loki to that category: he was a god. He’d been featured in last month’s GQ. You were mortal and your most recent press had been a TMZ story featuring unflattering paparazzi photos of you leaving a bodega in your pajamas at seven o’clock in the morning, a bagel halfway into your mouth. You were clearly not the same.

Up until the sweater, you’d managed to keep your cool around Loki and keep your attraction confined to daydreams and the occasional surreptitious lustful glance. Hell, you’d even had the nerve to be proud of yourself for keeping your shit together in front of him.

The sweater lays waste to all of that.

On the surface, it doesn’t seem like a sweater that is capable of completely destroying your carefully constructed composure. It’s a fairly standard crew neck in a deep green so dark it almost looks black at a first glance. But on Loki it just…does things to you. The fabric is well fitted, clinging to his biceps, pulling taut across his chest, emphasizing the line of his pectorals. It somehow accentuates how muscular he is while also still making him look lean and lithe.

The first time he wears it, you find your eyes just trail to him of their own volition, like an incredibly horny moth to the flame. It’s a day of catching yourself staring, panicking, pretending that you were actually looking at something else, and then repeating the process five minutes later when your gaze inevitably wandered again. It almost would have been funny if it didn’t put your blood pressure into the stratosphere.

To make matters worse, at the end of that day’s debriefing, he rises from his chair and raises his arms to the ceiling in a long stretch. The hem of the sweater creeps up, exposing the firm, flat muscles of his stomach, lightly dusted with a trail of hair that meanders in a tantalizing path down to his belt buckle.

You promptly choke on your own spit. Clint claps you hard on the back and asks if you’re okay, which is a question you don’t know how to answer (ultimately, you stick to a thumbs up and mumble something about dust getting caught in your throat). Loki is too preoccupied complaining about the entire concept of office furniture to notice. Or at least you’re pretty sure he doesn’t notice.

You might have been okay if that had been the only incident, but the sweater makes a repeat appearance on Friday. The following Tuesday features the deadly combination of the sweater with a pair of tight, dark wash jeans that nearly send you into cardiac arrest. Your fantasies suddenly become much more frequent and detailed.

You are not really sure what to do about this—it’s not like you can talk to anyone about it, nor can you ask him to stop wearing it without prompting some very uncomfortable questions. The idea that you’ll get used to it is laughable.

You look at your calendar and note that spring is six months away. At least.

Fucking hell.

It’s a Saturday afternoon and in a strange quirk of scheduling, almost everyone is out of town for a mission or a personal obligation, leaving the Tower unusually quiet. As much as you enjoy the daily clatter and chaos that comes with living here, you find a lot of comfort in these moments of quiet, however infrequent they may be.

You intended to make yourself a late afternoon snack. That was the plan, anyway. But as you’re standing at the kitchen counter and cutting up the fruit you just washed, you realize that you’re not entirely alone. From this vantage point, you can see Loki lounging on the couch in the next room and reading.

He’s wearing the sweater. Of course he’s wearing the sweater. And the so-tight-they-should-be-illegal dark wash jeans.

Goddammit.

You have the sense to set the knife down at least. The last thing you need is a trip to the hospital because you got too distracted by your hot colleague while handling a knife.

You let your gaze travel along the firm muscles of his chest. It’s just a sweater. It shouldn’t look this good. It shouldn’t prompt these kinds of thoughts. And yet…

He shifts on the couch and the hem of the sweater creeps up. His hand drops to his belt buckle. It’s entirely appropriate, but the way his long, long fingers are splayed against his stomach makes your mind drop straight to the gutter and wonder what they’d look like wrapped around his rock hard co—

“You know, it’s rude to stare.”

His voice comes from behind you and adrenaline surges through you like an electric shock. The Loki on the couch looks up at you and smirks before disappearing in a shimmer of green.

You wonder if it’s possible to die of embarrassment and a heart attack all at the same time. It certainly feels like you’re about to.

You take a deep breath and try to collect yourself, which feels largely futile. Come on, get it together. You’ve negotiated with terrorists and insurance companies. Shake it off.

You slowly turn around, cheeks burning. Loki is standing right behind you, arms folded across his chest. You swallow.

“I um. I was—I was just…” Words escape you as your brain fires in every direction except a helpful one.

“You were just what?” His expression is intense, but you’re not sure that he’s angry.

“Spacing out,” you say, trying to infuse your voice with confidence that you absolutely do not feel.

He places his hands on the counter behind you, intentionally caging you in with his body. You are overwhelmed by the scent of him—a masculine, wintery musk that makes you want to bury your face against his chest.

“Try again,” he says. His voice is deep enough to rattle your bones.

You swallow. Everything you could possibly say seems wildly inadequate.

Loki has never been one to be at a loss for words, though, and after a moment of terrified silence from you, he continues speaking.

“I’ve noticed something curious over these past few weeks,” he says. “When I wear this sweater, you can’t seem to take your eyes off of me.”

Your heart is pounding. Fucking hell. Have you really been that obvious?

“Now why is that?” he asks, his voice a low purr.

You briefly consider trying to lie again, but the piercing green of his eyes instantly makes you rethink it. “I um…” You swallow hard. “It’s just…it suits you. You…you look good.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I look good?”

You nod.

“Interesting.” His lips twitch in a slight smirk as he looks you up and down. “And how does that make you feel?”

Your heart thuds in your chest, your stomach contorting with a strange combination of fear and desire. You’re still humiliated, but the sound of his voice and the dark intensity of his gaze is intoxicating and incredibly arousing.

“I don’t—I don’t know how to answer that question.”

“Oh, I think you do.” There’s a rawness in his voice that makes your cunt clench.

You shake your head, eyes wide. You’re pretty sure he’s not really mad, but you also don't know where this is going. Surely he’s not making a pass at you…right?

“How does it make you feel to see me in this sweater?” he continues, his voice a low whisper. He pauses for a moment and when you don’t answer, he continues. “Does it…arouse you, perhaps?”

Holy fuck.

This can’t be happening.

You try to think of something clever or sexy, but the bluntness of the question and the fire in his eyes kills whatever remaining brain cells you have left. Mutely, you nod.

There’s that smirk again as he licks his lips. “Are you wet right now?”

Your cheeks burn. You give the tiniest nod possible.

“Hmm.” His hand alights on the button of your jeans. “I believe you Midgardians have a saying that is appropriate here: trust, but verify.” He slips the button free and your heart pounds like a war drum in your chest.

You cannot believe this is happening.

“You haven’t been entirely truthful in this conversation.” His palm presses flat against your stomach, the tips of his fingers slipping under the waistband of your underwear. “So I’m afraid I’m going to have to see for myself.”

His hand is achingly slow, creeping lower and lower. He watches you intently as his hand cups your sex, seemingly cataloging the way your breath hitches and all the little shivers that run through you.

His middle finger finally slides between your folds and you can’t help but moan.

“Oh, you did lie to me,” he growls, his index finger joining his middle, both sliding up to circle your clit. “You’re not wet, you’re soaked.”

Your legs are already starting to tremble and you grab on to his shoulders to try and steady yourself. The fabric of the sweater is softer than a cloud against your hands.

“Sopping wet,” he continues, trapping your right leg between his thighs and the counter, the heavy weight of his erection pressing eagerly against your hip. “And this is all for me?”

Wordlessly, you nod. There’s no point in denying it—and you don’t think he wants you to, either.

“What am I going to do about this?” he muses. His index and middle fingers lightly circle your clit again and you whimper.

“Don’t stop,” you gasp. “Please don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop?” he says. His tone is one of light curiosity, like you’re just chatting casually about the weather. “But if I continue, you’re almost certainly going to come.”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Please.”

“Oh, you want me to make you come?” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “Right here in the middle of the kitchen?”

You nod.

“Anyone could walk in, though,” he purrs. “Anyone could come in and see me with my fingers buried in your dripping cunt. What would they think if they saw you so utterly debauched and at my mercy, begging for me to make you come?”

“Don’t care…” you gasp. How are you already so close?

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t care what they’d think if they saw us like this?”

You shake your head.

“Oh, you must be desperate.” He adjusts his hand, his thumb taking up the rhythm on your clit while his index finger sinks into your slick channel, making you gasp.

“Loki, please—”

“Begging already,” he says, not letting up in his rhythm. “Has it been a long time, sweetheart? When did you last feel this good?”

It’s not a question you can answer. You don’t know that anyone ever has made you feel like this. You moan, your hips bucking hard against his hand.

“Poor thing,” he tuts. “You’re clearly desperate for it. What kinds of filthy thoughts have you had about me?” he purrs. “I’ve seen you staring, I’ve heard your breath hitch. Have you touched yourself while thinking of me?”

You manage a nod and his smile turns feral. “When was the last time?”

“Last…last night,” you gasp.

“How many times did you come?”

“F-Four.”

“Filthy girl.” His free hand slides up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tips your head back. “Next time, all you have to do is ask.”

His mouth covers yours, his tongue pushing past your lips as he slides a second finger into you. You moan into his mouth as the pressure in your hips increases.

“Oh yes, let me hear all of those pretty noises,” he murmurs. “Are you going to let me fuck you against the counter after I make you come?”

You nod, whimpering.

“Good girl,” he purrs. “I think you need to be fucked properly and hard. Is that what you need?”

“Yes,” you gasp.

“Mmm, that’s what I thought. This cunt is just too wet and needy for any other treatment.” He draws back to look at you more fully, giving you a lazy, hungry smile. “You’re about to lose it all over my fingers, aren’t you?”

Your orgasm is cresting, the tingling pressure in your hips becoming unbearable. You nod, lost for words.

With one more smirk, he curls his fingers inside of you. “Come for me, pretty girl, let me see you.”

Your cunt spasms around his thrusting fingers and your whole body shudders as your orgasm overtakes you, your head tipping back as you cry out.

“Oh, that’s it,” he murmurs, “there’s my good girl.”

A shiver runs through you at his words, your hips still moving against his hand, trying to draw out every last ripple of pleasure.

He kisses you as you come down from your high, and you take the opportunity to run your hands over his chest and tentatively feel the hard planes of muscle that you’ve been staring at these last few weeks. But after a few moments, he takes your hand and guides it to his cock.

His preference for leather pants or those sinfully tight dark wash jeans made you suspect that the size of his ego might actually be proportionate to the size of his cock and your initial assessment seems to confirm that theory. You rub your fingers over the denim that covers his thick shaft, feeling yourself grow even wetter at the low groan he makes in the back of his throat.

“Take my cock out.” His voice is so deep and his eyes are so smoldering, it feels like the command goes straight to your cunt. You are practically trembling with anticipation as your shaking hands make quick work of the button, buckle, and zipper.

You can’t help but suck in a breath when his cock comes into view. He’s long and deliciously thick—big enough to be a little intimidating, but not overwhelmingly so.

He guides your hand to wrap around his shaft. He barely fits in your hand. “Look at what you’ve done to me,” he says, his voice raspy as he guides your hand to stroke his cock. “Feel how hard I am for you, feel how much I want you.”

His cock practically pulses with need, the tip slick with pre-come and you grasp him more firmly, your cunt pulsing as he gives a deeply satisfying groan.

You stroke him from base to tip, squeezing lightly. He groans again. “They told me to stay away from you, you know,” he says.

You aren’t so far gone that you can let this information slip by. “What? Who?”

“Stark. Rogers. Romanoff. My brother.” He reaches behind you and shoves the fruit and cutting board into the side, the knife clattering into the sink. “They saw how I looked at you,” he says. “They saw that I wanted you. They told me you were too good for me. Too sweet.”

You feel your jeans and underwear melt away in a shimmer of green and he lifts you easily onto the counter.

His eyes flash with desire. “I wonder what they’d say if they knew you’d let me fuck you raw in the middle of the kitchen?”

For a brief moment, frustration almost wins out over your lust. “We could have done this sooner?”

His gaze turns serious. “Darling, we could have done this the moment we met, but I’m told a handshake is more appropriate.”

You take a breath, about to embark on a rant about the individuals he’d named and how they hadn’t even asked, they’d just assumed, but Loki puts a hand up against your mouth.

“Don’t make me wait any longer,” he says. There’s a sincerity and a need in his gaze that you’ve never seen before and it’s enough to calm your anger for just a moment.

“Okay,” you say, wrapping your legs around his waist and angling your hips toward his, “but clear your schedule because I’m gonna need you to fuck me a lot to make up for all that time.”

His grin is feral as he pushes into you.

You shiver at the blunt stretch of his cock, your hands gripping his broad shoulders. He indulges in a low groan as his hips press flush against yours.

“If I’d known they were keeping me from this tight cunt, I would’ve done something sooner,” he rasps. “You feel absolutely perfect.”

“Please,” you breathe, “I need—please.”

His hips snap hard against yours and you moan, your head tipping back.

His eyes glitter as he pulls you close, pressing his mouth against your ear. “The next time I have you, I will be sweet and soft.”

“And this time?” you ask, though you think you already know the answer.

“This time—” His mouth presses against the curve of your neck, teeth scraping just this side of too hard against the tender skin. “—I’m going to utterly ruin you.”

His pace is fast and rough—the word possessive comes to mind. You twist the luxurious fabric of his sweater in your hands as his cock hits that sweet, aching spot inside of you, pressing against your sensitive cunt in a way that makes your muscles spasm and clench around him. You moan, a shiver rolling through you as you inch closer to release.

“I’m…fuck, I’m getting close,” you gasp.

His pace abruptly slows and his grin is wide and his eyes are dancing with mirth when he raises his head from your shoulder.

“That was unnecessary,” you say with a scowl.

“Oh, I just want to savor you for a little longer, my love,” he purrs as he settles into an easy and slow pace that still makes your toes curl. “You’re going to take me right over the edge with you and I’ve waited so terribly long to have you.”

“I feel like you’re probably omitting the fact that you like being a tease,” you say.

He grins again, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Both things can be true.”

He does this a few times—taking up a wicked pace that almost sends you hurtling over the edge, only to slow at the last possible moment, silencing your whimpering protests with a deep and slow kiss that is good enough to make you forgive him until a few minutes later when he does it all over again.

You hold out for as long as you can, but eventually, the ache in your hips overwhelms you.

“Loki,” you breathe when his pace again begins to increase. “Please don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop?” he rasps, somehow finding the concentration to raise an eyebrow. “You’re quite sure?”

You nod.

“You want to come all over my cock?”

Speech is slightly beyond you at this point, but you manage to gasp a desperate plea as you hurtle into the final plateau, right before the fall.

Loki regards you with that same playful look as he fucks you. You wait, unsure of what he’s going to do, your body desperately crying out for your release.

His lips curl into a smile. “Come for me, sweet thing.”

At the sound of his voice, every one of your muscles is tensing and releasing, the slick walls of your cunt clamping down hard on the thick girth of his cock as you shudder and moan.

The remnants of Loki’s composure are fraying, his eyes closed and his jaw slack as he chases his own end. His brow furrows and he throws his head back, letting out a low groan as he comes and you think it might be the best sound you’ve ever heard.

You sag against him as you both come down from your respective highs, his heart beating hard under the soft fabric of his sweater. He reaches for your face, tilting your head back so he can kiss you, impossibly slow and soft.

You’re in the middle of the kitchen. You understand this. In a wholly rational world, you would be quick to hop off the counter, quick to try and negotiate the return of your jeans from whatever pocket dimension he’s sent them to.

Instead, you find yourself wanting to stay in this moment, with his arms wrapped around you, his cock still pulsing inside you as he kisses you breathless.

You count to ten, then twenty. At forty, you draw back slightly, only to have him pull you back into the kiss.

It’s somewhere after one hundred when he trails his lips to your neck and you manage to say what you intended: “We should probably…” you trail off as he sucks at your pulse point, sending a shiver down your spine.

“We should probably what?” he murmurs against your neck, before tracing a lazy figure eight with the tip of his tongue.

It takes you a moment to find that sentence. “Get dressed and such.”

You feel the sharp press of his smile against your skin. “I think not.”

Before you can open your mouth to say anything, the kitchen is fading in a shimmer of green to an unfamiliar bedroom and the two of you tumble into a bed draped in green silk.

“I’d like to stay like this for a while,” he says, a smile playing at his lips as he slowly rolls his hips against you, somehow still impossibly hard. “In fact, I think I need to have you again.”

“I can live with that,” you say. You tug at the fabric of his sweater. “But this is going to have to go.”

His gaze is smoldering and his bare skin is suddenly pressed against yours as the sweater and the rest of your clothes disappear in that familiar shimmer of green.

“Will you like me as much without it?” he asks, rolling his hips against you.

You drag your fingernails up along the firm muscles of his back. “I think I’ll manage.”

“Good,” he says, leaning in to kiss you, “because as I understand it, we have quite a lot of time to make up for.”

#loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson smut #loki x female reader smut #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x you smut #loki x yn smut #loki imagine

1K notes · View notes

wil-dearest · 7 months

Text

Anonymous asked: ok 🫣🫣 reader reading a * spicy * book and wilbur seeing them…. hehe

Mhm mhm, i see your point. Enjoy

trigger warning: the book you are reading has explicit smut in it and well its a little filthy at the end. but 18+.

brought to you by wil-dearest, may i present absolute horseshit

Kiss the Cook

In your defense, the book had been gifted to you by an older cousin who gave you a sly wink, telling you to enjoy. Your love for reading wasn't private information and had this been any other occasion and not your birthday, you most likely would've never read it. (Somehow, your relatives never get what you like. So they sit on a bookshelf as they collect dust and you sit on the idea of donating them.) And also because your cousin texted you saying the main lead was your type. And so if he was?

Here we are, three months after your birthday and you're sitting on at the dining table, reading. Your boyfriend, Wilbur, had been sweet enough that he wanted to make dinner by himself. And with the free time that's been so generously given, you give the book a shot.

Big mistake, after the first two chapters, it gets steamy.

Her head tipped back, with Jeremy's mouth teasing her skin, every touch and every bite he leaves spins her vision. "You understand now, what you do to me is torture." Even his voice, vibrating against the column of her throat, her mouth parts with a gasp. She does understand now.

She can't focus clearly but with the way his hands burn as they grip her thighs, wrapping them around his waist and his cock bumping against her entrance, it's as if her nerves had been lit on fire. The first push drives her nails into his skin and he smooths her hair down, hardly biting his moans back. "Ever since I met you," he gasps, interrupting himself as his hips twitch, "I couldn't get you out of my head. You consumed my being, every waking second." Maybe it'd been the wine, maybe it'd been the careless flirting because why would it ever be more than flirting remarks, it doesn't matter. All Nikki knows right now is how good it feels with him inside her.

You had to put the book down for a moment and cover your face, giggling a little bit to yourself. What the fuck had that been? You peek through fingers and eye the book, biting down on a bottom lip. You'll continue, you decided. Picking up the book, though, Wilbur came out to greet you, his hair a little run-through, like he was pulling the edges again. "How's the book?" He asks, smiling as he leaned in for a quick kiss. Your eyes closed as you hummed, not at all hiding your blush and your smile.

"It's not what I thought it was going to be." You answer, not at all wanting to admit that you just found out the book you're reading leans more into the erotic genre.

"Different?" He asks, his hand coming up and cupping the back of your head as he kissed your cheek. You nod. "And not a bad different?" He kisses your other cheek, drinking up your soft laughter. "Good, then you know where to find me," he pulls back, smiling at you. His thumb comes up to graze your cheek, where he kissed it. He kisses you one last time before heading back inside the kitchen.

You sigh dreamily, wondering how you ever managed to charm him with your tendencies to be a hermit. It cannot be helped, you'll just have to accept you've accidentally cursed him or something. Moving on from real life romance, you turn your eyes back down to the inconspicuous novel. It couldn't hurt to read a little more.

About thirty minutes later, Wilbur decides he's taken long enough and serves two bowls, taking the steaming meals and finding you so engrossed into the novel, you hadn't even noticed him. Now he's not one to be jealous of a book, but just how good can it be when it wasn't your taste? (Yes, he'd been privy to that lovely rant with relatives and their gifting habits.)

He comes around and he had to double-check his eyes were working before he came to terms with the truth. You've been reading erotica.

He starts to mumble the words, "Nikki sobs as she tries to clenches her thighs," you gasp, your head looks over your shoulder, unable to move too much to avoid hitting his head, "overwhelmed by the constant pleasure. His tongue was simply too much, circling her clit and sucking on it before moving the two fingers inside of her again-" you drop the book, covering his mouth even as he tries to read it still, and you had little doubt you look flustered beyond all reason.

"What are you doing!?" You shriek, turning in your seat as you hid your face in his neck, trying to strangle and simultaneously hug him. His laughter is a deep vibration that tickles you while you held onto him, your own nerves lit on fire as his arms circle around your waist.

"Well I came to tell you dinner was ready," he nods to the steaming bowls and then his teasing eyes turned back to you and you dive your head back into his collarbones, "but you didn't even see me. I could see why now."

"Hush." Your voice comes out muffled and you do nothing to make yourself clearer.

"Dinner could always wait and we can recreate the scene in your book." He says pulling away from you and before you can say anything, he's dropped to his knees, his hair falling into his big eyes that stare into you as he nudges his face between your legs. You could hardly breathe with how he gets so close to your crotch, how his smile widens when he kisses your thigh and grips the other one with his- his fingers and you curse yourself for being so sensitive because all you want to do is moan his name. You cover your mouth even when he licks a stripe down the crotch of your jeans. You feel yourself trembling.

"Actually," he says, getting up a dizzying fashion, "I'll make sure to get dessert after dinner." His smile is downright predatory. How are you supposed to eat after all that?

#spencer writes #wilbur soot smut #gender neutral reader

169 notes · View notes

innamorament0 · 4 months

Text

This is an X-Files AU. 1 chapter - 1 case and only Rao knows how many chapters there will be =D

It wasn't the first time Lena Luthor was in Washington, but for the first time, she descended into the basement to meet her new partner. She took her phone out of her pocket to look at the time and watched cellular service bars disappear one by one until she finally reached a dead zone.

"What am I getting myself into?" Lena whispered under her breath, but the elevator doors slid open. She didn't have much more time to think about her fate; instead, she stepped out into a dusty corridor with the only door in the middle of a wall.

She stopped before it, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. She shouldn't be so nervous, but neither her surname nor beautiful but cold exterior made her particularly likeable to the people she met, especially in the Bureau, where more than half of the agents worked over at least a dozen different cases against either her family or the goons who worked for them. Lena doubted this encounter would be any different.

KARA DANVERS

special agent

Lena reread the words on a plate at least five times as if she hadn't known the whole biography of this person that she could find online, along with her thesis and credentials from the Academy. She lifted her arm painfully slowly before finally gathering her courage and knocking at the door.

"Sorry, there is no one here but the FBI's most unwanted!" she heard a muffled voice behind it.

Lena wiped her clammy hands over the expensive burgundy 3 piece suit before pushing the door open and entering the small, cramped office. The air there was stale, which wasn't surprising - there were no windows, and the only source of relatively fresh air was a small vent near the ceiling covered in a thick layer of dust.

The office looked like a portal to the 90s - an old yellowed projector stood out, placed on a small table almost in the middle of the room. The phone looked like it was brought here from the antique store. The walls were clad in photographs and posters with UFOs of at least five different sizes and shapes and abandoned places that Lena couldn't recognise. A few pictures of mutilated bodies and mummified remains littered all free spaces between posters.

The central part of this exposition was a large glossy photo of something that looked like a humanoid figure flying across the skies of a city that appeared to be Metropolis, NY. The words "Up, up and away!" were printed on the lower part of the picture.

"It's nice to meet you, Agent Danvers! I am your new partner - ag…" Lena started, but the blonde woman who sat in a creaky office chair abruptly turned around, cutting her off.

"Special agent Lena Luthor, scientist and prodigy of a kind. I read your Quantum Entanglement theory - it was quite entertaining."

"You mean?" Lena asked carefully, expecting Agent Danvers to make fun of her.

"I mean, I liked it! And I like how cool, analytic and scientific your mind is." Kara jumped up, switching on an old projector that threw a dull light over the grey wall.

"I have also read your work - "Psychology and Unexplained Behavioural Patterns of Separated Twins". It was fascinating. But your approach is… different." Lena instantly felt regret over making this borderline offensive pause between words, but Kara wasn't phased. She only smiled at Lena, the tingles of genuine joy touching her eyes.

Kara had a beautiful, contagious smile.

"I presume Hank, I mean Assistant Director Henshaw, put us together, so you would be a science to my… different approach. Orrr, maybe he sent you to spy on me?

Whatever it is, it leads me to a very important question!" Kara slapped the film on the projector's surface and walked to the picture of a plane crash that appeared on the only clean wall. "As you see, this is a view of a cockpit - although the plane crashed into the water, it broke in half. Thankfully, there are not a lot of casualties, but look at what is especially interesting in this case. The plane crashed down into the river in unclear circumstances - there were no malfunctions, no distress signals. When the rescue team entered the crash site, they saw that the cabin was broken in half, but the cockpit was intact, the doors closed, and the windshield undamaged. But both pilots vanished without a trace. How would you scientifically explain it, Special Agent Luthor?"

"They could have left the cockpit in panic and gone into the cabin, then fall out of it when the plane broke. Did the local police search the river?" Lena knew that her explanation was flimsy at best, but it was the only thing she could come up with now.

For some unexplained reason, she wanted to impress Agent Danvers despite her promise to herself that she would never do it again, not after Lex. But Kara was so endearing that she let her insecurities go.

"Well, I would say that it's highly doubtful that two pilots with more than twenty years of experience would go cuckoo enough to leave the cockpit and run away. And yes, the local forces searched the river. They found all survivors and all the bodies, but still, there was no trace of the pilots." Kara took the film off and put another, showing the view at the door into the cockpit from the cabin. It was securely sealed shut. "This picture was done as soon as the rescue team entered the crash site."

"They couldn't just vanish into thin air - there should be an explanation for this! An early evacuation? A terrorist attack?" Lena started to stress it out, but Kara put a hand on her shoulder, looking at her with a warm smile.

"Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?" Agent Danvers suddenly leaned close to Lena and whispered in her ear. It sounded a bit too ominous, and Lena turned around to look at her.

"Well, logically, I would have to say no," Lena sighed, somehow expecting this question. "Given that the distance between celestial bodies is enormous, and the energy required to cover this distance is exceeding anything that exists in this realm, making it impossible to…"

"See? You try to find the existence of these substances here in our world, but the possibilities become much, much wider if you see beyond our realm. You just need to think outside the box! You need to believe!" Kara seemed excited despite Lena's bewildered expression.

"What I see as hard to believe is the fact that these people vanished without any scientific explanation." Lena shrugged. "There should be one; there should be a logical way of how they disappeared."

"Welp, Agent Luthor, it seems like we will need to find it out together. Be ready to depart to National City, California in… Oh, in less than two hours. See you at the airport!"

#supercorp #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers #supercorp au #supercorp fanfiction #supercorp fic #kara x lena #my fics #the X-Files AU

82 notes · View notes

kiwi413 · 2 years

Note

Hmmmm how about an angst fluff of wukong, macaque and nezha x shy scaredy cat reader. Like how and what were they doing before the whole lbd incident and how they comfort each other after the whole lbd incident

A/N: heya! thank you for requesting! Nezha's is a bit short because it's my first time writing him, I also decided on hcs and a drabble for this one. hope you enjoy it!

characters: Sun Wukong, Macaque, Nezha

pronouns: none used

Sun Wukong

Before leaving to search for the samadhi fire’s map, Wukong has told you that he’d be away for a while

He didn’t tell you exactly where or what he’d be doing, but from the look on his face you knew it was important

So you let him go, albeit with a heavy heart. You made him promise to return to you in one piece.

Flashforward to the day LBD made her move, you were on the ship with the others

While you were glad Wukong was relatively okay, you weren’t too thrilled to embark on this journey

Mortal danger and the notion that the world might end at any moment wasn’t exactly your cup of tea

Your lover was there to provide moral support whenever he could though! And with him there you were 10 times safer than you could be back in the city

Until he got possessed, that is

This adventure as a whole wasn’t good for your psyche, but seeing your lover be forced to fight both you and his friends has to take the icing on the cake

You weren’t a fighter, so you could do nothing but watch as it all unfolded

This was the first time in your whole time of knowing Wukong that you were genuinely scared of him

After the dust settled and the evil ancient spirit was destroyed, you two got to have a rather heartfelt reunion

While everyone else was busy celebrating, Monkey King rushed to you and scooped you up in a bone-crushing hug. “Peaches! Are you okay?” you barely managed to squeeze out an affirmative hum as you slightly patted his arm as a signal for him to let you go before you ran out of air. Fortunately, he got the message rather quickly and slowly let your feet back on the ground, his hands never leaving you, however.

“I’m so sorry Peaches, I never should’ve left you alone, I should’ve-” he doesn’t get to finish his speech because of your lips landing briefly on his. His dumbfounded stare makes you huff out a chuckle, your hands making themselves at home on either side of his face. “It’s okay, you came back to me, just as promised. Nothing else matters. I just..I just want to go home.”

With a small nod and teary eyes from borh of you, the simian takes you in his arms to confirm to himself and you that you’re safe. Your quiet moment is interrupted by someone clearing their throat. You lift your head to see everyone staring at you and your lover. All the adrenaline from earlier has left your body and your nerves come back to you at full force. With an embarrassed squeak and a red face you hide your face in Wukong’s armoured chest. You feel him laugh lightheartedly but fail to notice the softness in his eyes.

It will take a while to recover, but you’ve got each other, so you’ll be fine.

Macaque

Macaque didn’t exactly have time to say goodbye to you before he left

To his credit, he was sorta abducted by the (definitely not) Mayor

It didn’t make it any less easy for either of you, each worried sick about the other

You didn’t know anything about his whereabouts, and the sudden incubation of the city in bone crystal didn’t help put your mind at ease at all

From his side, Macaque is 10 times more desperate to get away from LBD

He has someone to return to now, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get back home to you!

His mind keeps drifting back to you, are you okay? Are you even alive?

After he’s freed and helps MK and his gang to defeat the bone demon he cuts his stay short because he’s very anxious to check on you

So he uses the shadows to teleport back home to you

When he enters the apartment there’s a deathly silence that weighs down on him, he frantically looks around the apartment until he finally stumbles upon you at the kitchen table. You both just stare in disbelief for a moment.

It’s him who breaks the trance by marching to you and giving you a hug full of relief and love, In return, you cling to him with equal vigor, a hand gently caressing the back of his head and pulling him as close as physically possible.

It’s quiet for the most part, except for both of your quiet sniffles. The reality that neither lost the other settling in the more time you spend entangled in each other. Slowly he raises his head from the crook of your neck to look you in the eye, “I’m home,” he says through ragged breaths. You nod as you take him in, “you’re home,”

He’ll have to tell you all about what happened later. For now, you’re both content with finding solace in the other’s presence.

Nezha

Nezha has told you before leaving after Sun Wukong about what happened to the map

it gave you a bad feeling in your gut, but you knew you couldn’t interfere with Nezha’s business as the map’s guardian

You were a minor celestial being, not much of a fighter and certainly not good under pressure

so it was better for you to not get involved in this one

Still, you watched as the events unfolded, from the samadhi fire being unleashed to Sun Wukong’s possession to the eventual defeat of the Lady Bone Demon

It was truly a rollercoaster of emotions to see it all happen and not be able to help, especially as your beloved took quite the beating from the Monkey King

So as soon as the group gathered to eat noodles, in your relief that Nezha was alright, you went straight to the mortal realm.

As soon as Nezha saw you, he went straight for an embrace. “Nezha! I’m so glad you’re safe!” Neither of you cared much about the shocked and confused faces of the others as you were too busy with your little reunion.

“I saw everything that happened, I was so scared,” Nezha gives you an apologetic look before taking your hands in his. “I know, I’m sorry Blossom. It’s alright now, the threat was dispossed of,” he kisses both your hands in an attempt to sooth you. And it works, that is until you both hear a rather obnoxious whistle coming from the group.

“Aye Nezha! You never told me you got laid! You have to introduce me,” says none other than Monkey King. The reaction is immediate, while you blush and try to hide your face in embarrassment, Nezha looks ready to kill the Great Sage. “Sun Wukong..” The Lotus Prince spits out the name through clenched teeth, and the monkey in question seems unfazed by it.

The rest of your evening is filled with Nezha introducing you to the rest of the group, and while you’re too nervous to mingle with them, you’re all too happy to stay by your beloved’s side and relish in the fact that nothing tore the two of you apart.

#lmk x reader #lmk sun wukong x reader #lego monkie kid x reader #macaque x reader #sun wukong x reader #lmk macaque x reader #nezha x reader #lmk nezha x reader

694 notes · View notes

sp00kworm · 2 years

Text

Sensei, Sensei

Pairing: Kirishima Tooru x Female Reader

Word Count: 3644

Warnings: Sexual Content, Unsafe sex, Closet Sex, Stranger Sex

---

The summer air was warm against your skin as you walked along the pathways of the small city festival. This far out of the city, there wasn’t too many people walking around. It was far out, in one of the larger local parks, and you were glad to be away from the hustle and bustle for even just an evening. Thinking of the stress of your teaching job was enough to make your head hurt again. Children were difficult even when they were at their most well behaved. Snack time only did so much to sate twenty little humans, after all. You tried to ignore the idea as you looked over the skewers on a food stall. Most of it was seafood, and at least a quarter of it was seasoned squid, a favourite in the local area. There were far too many choices, and the stall owner sighed through his nose, forcing you to make a decision. One squid skewer in hand, and a few yen lighter, you headed past the rest of the food stalls and on towards the fun fair games, dodging the small children and couples, arm in arm, as you went. The last thing you needed was to knock over someone and have to spend time apologising, or worse, finding some kids parents because they were hurt.

It was as though the universe was laughing at you it seemed.

As you rounded the corner you slammed into someone. The little girl went flying, her red hair flopping over her face as she hit the floor with a soft thud. Her hands grazed the pebbles in the dirt, and you rushed to kneel down and get a good look at them. The girl’s large red eyes were watery, and you hushed her softly as you carefully brushed the grit from her grazes.

“I’m so sorry!” You rushed out before you reached for your handkerchief and a bottle of water. You wet the cloth before gently wiping her hands. Turning her palms back and forth, you were sure that she only had minor grazes. You sighed in relief.

“It’s okay, Miss…” The girl looked from her hands to your face, squirming uncomfortably before fresh tears dripped down her face, “A-Actually…I’ve lost Kirishima.”

“Kirishima?” You asked, “Is he your boyfriend?”

Her face went red, almost like a tomato, and the girl flapped for a moment before she shook her head vehemently, ‘no’.

A laugh made her startle, and you patted her head gently, “Sorry but you’re very sweet…ah, what is your name?”

The little girl pouted and sniffled before she wiped her eyes, “Yaeka.” She offered quietly.

“Well, Yaeka, how about I help you find Kirishima?” You offered before you wiped her face with the clean side of the handkerchief.

“You will?” Yaeka seemed to brighten a little as she took your hand and stood up.

You dusted her knees gently before taking her hand firmly. It wasn’t the safest place for a child to be running around.

“Of course, I will! I can’t leave you here all alone…” You leaned in conspiratorially to whisper into her ear, “I’ve heard the fish monger is a goblin in disguise! You might get on his nerves!”

Yaeka startled, and looked over at the man, “Really?” She whispered.

“Oh yes. He’s even more upset because of the man who ruined the carnival game earlier!” You told her before pointing towards the exit where the seating area was.

“That was Kirishima!” She told you, her eyes bright with glee, “He told the man his game was bad! And he won me a big bunny!”

“Oh, so that was Kirishima? I bet he’s really cool, huh?” You asked with a smile.

Yaeka nodded her head as she followed you towards the benches, “Uhuh. I want to be as nice as Kirishima is one day.” She told you, her face red with embarrassment. You could only chuckle. It seemed as though she liked this man a lot.

The seating area was relatively full, and you hummed, looking around before you asked Yaeka if she could spot Kirishima anywhere.

“No.” She pouted, upset, “I can’t see him anywhere.”

You thought for a moment before kneeling down, “How about you get on my shoulders, that way you might be able to point him out to me?”

“Maybe…” Yaeka nodded, “He’s very tall so we might be able to spot him.” She told you as she sat on your shoulders, peering around in the gloom.

“Where did you last see him?” You asked as you set off through the tables, “That might help us find him.”

Yaeka hummed, thinking as she glanced around, “I lost him on the hill…” She mumbled.

“Oh? Where the flavoured ices are?” You asked her. Yaeka nodded in response, and you turned to head towards the stalls again.

“Little Lady!”

Yaeka’s head whipped in the direction of the call, and you turned slowly, following her gaze along the top of the small grass hill.

“Little Lady! I told you not to run off.” The man called as he trotted down the hill, his blue hair flopping over his glasses. He smirked when he spotted you as well, his eyes giving you a once over, in a way which made you feel small. Within a few seconds, you knew he had a grasp on how much of a threat you were. He was tall, as Yaeka said, and he scooped her off your shoulders quickly before plonking her on the floor by his feet.

“Who is this, Little Lady?”

“Ah, this lady helped me find you, Kirishima!” She told him as he gripped her hand tight.

“Oh, did she?” Kirishima hummed as he offered his hand, lamely, “Then thanks. I was worried sick about her.”

You took a breath before you dared to take his hand, and his grip was strong as he shook your hand with his own. His palms were rough and calloused, and you swallowed at the peak of thick, black tattoos out of the bottom of his shirt.

The crisp outfit made you reconsider. The tattoos were the second give away, and you felt ice water run down your back as the pieces connected in your head. Yakuza. Kirishima smirked as your brain clicked into place, and he let your hand go before turning, Yaeka in hand, and waving.

“Thanks for finding her. The boss would have killed me for real this time if something happened to her.” Kirishima yawned as he walked away.

“Boss? You’re not her father?” You asked meekly.

Kirishima turned, his blue eyes flashing behind his glasses. There was a churning delight at the torture behind the glass lenses, though he would deny it if Sugihara asked him.

“No. I’m her babysitter.” Kirishima drawled before he cracked the fingers in his hands, “And if you have a problem with that then…”

“No!” You jumped in before smiling awkwardly, “I just think its…Well at least Yaeka has someone to come to this with, even if her father can’t make the time himself.”

Kirishima took a moment to look you up and down again before his fanged smile was back, his head churning with possibilities, “Say, Little Lady? How about we invite your new friend over for dinner as a ‘thank you’ gift?”

Yaeka looked up with delight on her face, “Would Papa be okay with it?” She asked.

“Leave your old man to me.” Kirishima chuckled, “But how about we exchange numbers then?”

Your guts churned, telling you it was a bad idea, “Sure.” You replied still, opening your phone to type in Kirishima’s number despite the uneasy feeling he radiated. You let him type his number in and scowled at the silly rose on the end of it before Yaeka interrupted your train of thought.

“Thank you for helping me, miss.” She bowed and smiled.

“You’re most welcome, Yaeka.” Your heart melted a little, but it was quickly put back together as Kirishima laughed and smirked between the two of you.

“How cute, Little Lady, you have a new friend!” He teased her.

Yaeka huffed, pouting before she took his hand and dragged him up the hill, ignoring his jabs at her blush before they were both out of sight and blended back into the crowds of the festival.

A message the next day came to you while the children were on lunch. You looked up from your marking to check your phone. The message was from Kirishima.

‘The boss has invited you for dinner.’

Short. It was almost rude in its tone, and you scowled at the screen before it beeped again.

‘Its Kirishima by the way. Dinner is at seven. Looking forwards to seeing you again, teacher lady.”

You couldn’t think of a reply which didn’t sound rude, so instead, you replied with a confirmation and went back to eating, shovelling rice into your mouth around marking the workbooks you had left to get through. Another text message popped through at the end of lunch, but you ignored it as you put away your lunch boxes and headed out into the yard to go and collect your class. The phone, left on silent, continued to buzz, unknowingly, in the bottom of your bag, for the rest of the afternoon as you taught, and eventually finished for the day. You only looked again as you finished, packing your marking to take home over the weekend. Your phone lit up with the notifications. You had twelve messages, all from Kirishima. The man had messaged you at least twice an hour since lunch time, and you blinked at the innate, random messages, and the mess of fanged emojis before replying that you would see him later on.

‘Finally, you respond.’

Kirishima snarked a few more messages as you continued to ignore him. With a scoff, you left his messages unread as you debated not showing at all. The family were no doubt dangerous and notorious, but you had to pay your respects to Yaeka’s true father. He had invited you, so it would be rude to ignore his request. You sighed as you got home and laid your marking on your table. Looking over the books, you sighed, knowing you needed to finish it before you went out for dinner. Another job to do. With a large sigh, you went to get a drink, get changed, and get started on the marking before you had to go to dinner. You cracked your arms and threw your blanket over your shoulders as you collected your pens, and got started marking the maths workbooks, dreading the buzzing noise of your phone in your bag.

Kirishima’s harassment halted in the evening, and you marked your books without any hassle before you rushed to get showered and changed into something more formal. There was only enough time to quickly get ready and you headed out a little late to get to the residence that Kirishima had messaged you. You arrived in the area, looking at the men stood outside, their jackets hiding the leather harnesses strapped to them. Guns and knives were no doubt hidden beneath the fabric, and you had no will to find out. Instead, you avoided looking the men in the eyes as you headed to the gate, raising a fist to knock. One of them lit his cigarette before he stopped your fist with his palm and a sneer.

“What are you doing here?” He asked as he blew smoke out of the side of his mouth.

“Uh…I’m here to see...” You struggled to remember the name of Yaeka’s father, floundering under the man’s intense gaze before he was shoved away from you.

“She’s here to see the boss, Hiruguma, so keep your hands off.” Kirishima snarked as he pushed open the gate for you, dressed in trousers and a shirt, but this time he had a navy tie and a black suit jacket on as well.

There was a brief moment where you registered just how handsome Kirishima was. His hair was properly styled, his glasses polished and his eyes cold and sharp. He almost seemed like a mobster out of a cheesy romance movie. His blue eyes turned down and you flinched as he smirked and nodded his head for you to enter first.

“After you, teacher.” Kirishima teased, delighted at the scowl he got in return as you stepped through the gate and onto the grounds. The yakuza lacky followed you with a smile, unsettlingly quiet as he directed you through the well-kept gardens towards the large traditional house. It was enormous. The whole complex screamed wealth, and you kept in mind the potential shady business they were involved with as Kirishima opened you the door to the house itself.

“You look lovely tonight.” He told you, out of the blue, as you stooped to take off your shoes in the entranceway.

A flash of red took over your vision before you turned, clad in the slippers and snarled at him, “Thank you for telling me for the fiftieth time, Mister Kirishima.” You snapped, “Its not like your provocative messages and constant harassment of me in working hours didn’t tell me that much!”

“Oi, oi,” Kirishima frowned, “What’s with the anger? I was just interested in what you do and get up to!” He tutted, “I can’t let just anyone meet with Yaeka and the Boss, you know.”

“What? So, harassing me all day was to make sure I wasn’t going to hurt your precious criminal leader?!” You fumed before you took a step forward and thumped the man in the chest, “Why would I help a little girl find you if I was going to do something to her! Use your damn brain you…” You jumped as Kirishima’s lips cut you off. The man kissed you, his long, strong hands wrapped around the bottom of your back, cupping the arch as you leaned into him and kissed back, taking the opportunity to run your own hands over his shoulders and down his spine.

Kirishima made a soft noise before he pulled away, fangs poking out of the bottom of his top lip as he licked away your combined spit. He looked at you, admiring the bruised cushion of your bottom lip before he grinned and dragged you by the hand into the side corridor of the house, pulling you along behind him.

“And here I thought you hated me, teacher.” Kirishima teased as he dragged you into a utility room. He shut the door with a slam of one large hand and slid you up against the wall, his jacket already off his shoulders as he teased the band of your bottoms, tugging the fabric gently as he crowded your space and sent your head spinning. He smelt of heavy cologne and the undertone of metal. He was dangerous, and you snapped your palms up in front of you, stopping him from pressing his front to yours as he leaned in for another bruising kiss.

“Ah?” He asked, perplexed, “What’s wrong? Ah, did I misread this whole thing because…”

“Shut up.” You hissed at him before you dragged him down by the tie, kissing him again, “You’re infuriating but…handsome and…”

“Say no more, I get the idea.” Kirishima preened under the praise and compliments before he leaned back in to continue where you both left off.

A rush of blood to your head led your hands down to the bottom of his shirt. You tugged his shirt out of his bottoms, hiking the cotton up his hard stomach so you could get a feel at his skin. He was hot, almost clammy, but you ignored it as you meandered back down to the button on his trousers, undoing it. Kirishima’s eyes opened before he looked down and smirked, tugging his trousers open for you to have a feel before he had his hands up your skirt and between your legs, feeling the hot skin.

“Gosh, teacher, you’re wet down there.” Kirishima purred as he stroked his fingers over your panties, enjoying the way you gasped before he dipped a finger underneath the elastic and swiped at you, feeling the wetness cling to the tip of his finger. You gasped and moaned softly before Kirishima’s other hand came up to silence you.

“Careful…” He purred, “You don’t want anyone to hear you, do you?” He hummed, “Unless you want them to find us? I never knew a teacher could be such a pervert.”

With a shuddering breath you shoved the man down a little, “Shut it, Kirishima or I swear I’ll…”

The abusive poison you had lined up left your mind as Kirishima got on his knees, his cock straining at his underwear where his trousers were open, but his eyes focused on you above him. He smiled before he licked his lips and ducked his head under your skirt, dragging your tights and your underwear down far enough so he could fit himself between your thighs. You gasped as his fingers gripped the meat of your thighs, dragging you against the wall before he blew a warm breath over your heated, sensitive skin. You tried not to moan as he rumbled against your thigh, trembling with anticipation before he drew back far enough that he could look you in the eyes.

“Thank you for the meal.” He whispered against your skin before he plunged his face between your legs, his tongue pressing between your folds, dragging upwards to circle your clitoris. With a breathy moan, you grasped Kirishima’s hair, and pressed your hips forwards as he teased your clit and pushed his fingers inside of you, slowly, one a time, stretching you open.

“You’re so tight.” Kirishima hummed as he rolled your skirt and got you to hold it out of the way. You bit your lip as he looked you in the eyes and dragged his tongue over you, the flat of it pressing against as much skin as he could get. He reached your clitoris again and swirled a few times before he drew the flesh into his mouth and sucked, gently at first, then harsh, in a vicious pull of his cheeks.

“Kirishima…” You moaned as you dragged his blue hair out of place. The man didn’t respond, instead he pushed two fingers inside of you again, pinning you to the wall as his assault made your toes curl. The slippers on your feet fell off as you moaned against your hand, bucking against Kirishima’s face before he grumbled and pulled away. Your orgasm fizzled away, and you moaned, upset as Kirishima stood up, his knees cracking before he had you against the wall again. He pinched your cheeks together before he smiled, his slick chin shining in the dim light of the bare bulb of the utility room. With a purr he kissed you, his tongue stroking your own, allowing you to have a taste of yourself. It was sour against your tongue, but not disgusting, the taste hidden by the taste of cigarette and mint in Kirishima’s mouth.

“Are you gonna…” You started before Kirishima covered your mouth. Footsteps clicked past the door, along with the gruff voices of several other members. Two stood outside the door, having a hushed conversation, and you squirmed in upset. Kirishima smirked before he spread your legs again and sucked a mark on your neck. With a brush of his hand, he had his cock in his hand and slid it inside of you, guiding it before he kissed you again, keeping you silent as his length slid, slowly inside of you, brushing the sensitive spot inside of you that made your head swim.

Kirishima’s lip went white as he bit it, stifling his own noise as he bottomed out, pressed flushed against your hips, his cock twitching inside of you. The rush from potentially being caught, and the feeling of Kirishima’s hot cock inside of you made your stomach clench and your walls flutter in a rush of a soft orgasm, and you moaned into his mouth as you clenched your thighs and tried to ride his dick. He groaned softly into your hair at the feeling before he grabbed your hips and started a soft rhythm, careful not to make too much noise. It didn’t take the two men outside long to walk away, leaving the hallway beside you quiet.

“You’re a real pervert, aren’t you, teacher?” Kirishima cooed before he started to thrust in earnest, his hips slapping against yours as he chased his own high, desperate for it as you clenched around him again. He watched as you dumbly rubbed between your own legs, swiping at your clitoris fast enough to build another orgasm.

“Are you going to cum?” Kirishima asked as he squeezed your backside, “Are you going to be quiet?”

You nodded, feeling the fluttering of your walls as Kirishima grinned, thrusting harder as he chased his own high, “Please Kirishima. I wanna cum…” You whispered against his ear as you moaned softly, hushing yourself with your palm again as you pinched your clit and flinched, your orgasm washing over you. Kirishima swore as you clenched tight and rushed to pull out as his cum painted the insides of your thighs, coating your tights and underwear. He panted as he admired the look, watching the pearly rivulets run over your skin and drip onto the floor. You moaned softly as he pulled your underwear back up and scowled as he laughed.

“Think you’re ready for the dinner party, teacher? Or would you like round two?” He teased before you smacked your elbow against his ribs.

“Shut up, Kirishima or so help me I’ll…” You threatened as you straightened your skirt.

“You’ll give me a kiss and promise to call me?” Kirishima batted his eyelashes.

“Something like that…” You muttered as he laughed at you.

#the yakuza's guide to babysitting #kirishima tooru x reader #kirishima tooru x female reader #female reader #kirishima tooru #reader insert #kirishima tooru x y/n #kirishima tooru x you #kirishima tooru/reader #kirishima tooru/female reader #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing

633 notes · View notes

obsolescent · 10 months

Text

All Are of The Dust - Part One

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

Summary: A decision to be made. What will your answer be? Two endings.

Content Warnings: Angst, mentions of abuse, gender neutral reader/no gender specified in this part, protective Leon.

Author’s Note: Who knew all I needed to get out of my block was to listen to Ethel Cain while writing. This has a lot of angst, my apologies. I hope you enjoy.

Words: 2,384

Read on Ao3

“All go unto one place; all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again.” —Ecclesiastes 3:20

He finds you under the magnolia tree. The scent of the flowers lazily sweeping through the humid air. You’re staring up through the branches into the muted sky. Arms crossed over your chest, you would think he was attending your funeral with the blank expression paired with said pose. A thought he hastily dismisses, he sits at your side, not willing to break the silence, waiting for your words. “He said somethin’ ‘bout you today,” you start, not moving or breaking your gaze with the heavens. “Let me guess, low-down bastard? Not worth two cents?” Leon replies, taking his Stetson off and laying down, turning onto his side to face you. “...Accusin’ me of sleeping with you. Said I was a whore. I’m ‘fraternizin’ with you’.”

His eyes widen, a scoff leaving his mouth. “The hell’s he on about now? Always pointing a damn finger at one of us, we’ve been friends for ages now, since we were kids! God, I wish he would keel over already. Honestly, shouldn’t be too long now, he’s got one foot in the grave and another on a banana peel,” he bites, anger flaring. That gets movement from you, a rush of air leaves your body. “If only. Man’s probably going to surpass Methuselah in age,” you jest, finally glancing in his direction. Leon guffawed at the remark, freeing a smile from the restraints of your mouth.

He understands the need of equanimity, due to the wretch that is your uncle. But, oh how he loves your smiles, with their rarity. Your laughter when it escapes you, also not something he hears much of anymore. He wished the accusations were true, but also so much more. To take you away from this God forsaken place to something you could both find solace in. A place the two of you forge together, a refuge from your short, yet dismal lives. From his time in the orphanage to yours under the weight of a miscreant relative. It’s time you two find lives worth living, serenity you've always longed for, to be free of the scrutiny from this abysmal town.

And he has their opportunity.

Leon gathered his breath and courage. “Hey. Got some excitin’ news…I got a real nice job offer, about a couple hours away from here. Was wanting to see if, y’know, you’d possibly…Come with me? You ain’t gotta give me an answer now, just…Pretty soon, alright?” Leon asked, his voice wavering. The small smile disappeared from your features, replaced by the widening of your eyes, mouth slightly agape. “You’re goin’?” You ask, turning onto your side to face him. “Well, I don’t wanna go without you…This would be yours–our–chance to get away from here. Doesn’t that sound good? Me and you, away from this hellhole,” He starts, reaching out but falling short of grabbing your hand. “Leon…” You whisper, voice faltering. “Hey, it’s alright! I know it’ll be a lot…But that’s why we’ll have each other for! I’ll be there with you every step of the way.” He says, trying to ease your nerves. “There’s also people like you there…People who feel like you. They’ve got lots of stuff they do there for people like yourself. Celebrations and whatnot. I’m sure you would make lots of friends…” He trails off, watching your face for a reaction, any reaction. “Please…Just think about it,” He whispers, heart stuttering in his chest.

He can practically hear the gears turning in your head. “Even if I did end up saying yes and coming with you, how would we–” “Night time would be best. No one in town’s prowlin’ around beyond 9 o’clock anyways. We could wait for sure, until we know everyone’s in, say, until midnight?” He cuts you off, seeming to already have this all worked out. You pause and stare at his face, glancing over his features, until fixating onto his cerulean eyes. Prettiest you’ve ever seen. “There’s something else, ain’t there?” He asked, furrowing his brows as he looked back into your own eyes. You snap back, starting, “I just…You’re doing real good for yourself, Leon, I don’t wanna trouble you.” You admit, laying back in your original position, returning your gaze to the evergreen again. “You won’t be a burden on me!” He rushes out, sitting up and leaning closer to you, making you jump at his sudden movement. “Sorry, sorry…” He mutters, moving back to his original spot, sighing. “I’m not asking for anything in return…Just your company,” he says, looking down at you. “That’s all…Honest. If there was something you wanted to do for me, well, that’s up to you to figure out, but I ain’t making you do anything.” He adds, hunching over to pick up and fiddle with a fallen leaf.

You’re quiet for a while, taking it all in. Weighing the options. Though, of course, Leon’s choice has the most appeal, regardless of the terrifying concept of having to settle into a new place, with new people, new…Everything. When you haven’t stepped foot out of your podunk town your whole life, it’s quite an unnerving thought. But it would be a whole lot better with Leon at your side. He makes you feel brave, even courageous enough to start standing up to your uncle. Though you won’t tell him that, lest you tell him about the retaliation that’s resulted in cleaning up the beer that’s run down the walls and broken glass shattered around your feet. It shouldn’t have to be this way. You wish, yearn, for things to be better. For this town to improve. No more alcoholic kin or hardened lives. To not have to flee in the night and hope it’s something better. It’s something else to pray about, you reckon. Pray to God that it’ll be what you both hope it is. Hoping His plan for you two is something that has a happy ending. Your stomach turns at the thoughts of the worst of the outcomes.

“Can hear the gears grinding in that head o’ yours, whaddya thinkin’?” Leon asks, glancing at you through his shaggy blond locks, hoping his phrasing makes the situation lighter. “A lot.” You answer, causing him to snort. He smirks, turning his head completely to watch you now, a faint smile on your face again. It seems to be working, thankfully. Now there’s no use in letting a good joke go to waste. “Well, don’t hold back now, you know I’m like a cornfield.” He replies, grin getting wider. “Huh?” You ask, furrowing your brows. “I’m all ears.” “God above,” you groan, throwing your arm over your face to hide your grin. He guffaws, slapping his knee. “That one was good and you know it!” He says, still chuckling. “It was…But it’s always good to hear your jokes, Leon, or anything you say, really.” You respond genuinely, giving him a sincere look. His laughter turns bashful, red slowly rising up his neck to his ears and cheeks. “Wow, uh, you sure do know how to flatter someone,” he says your name while grabbing his hat, paying special attention to the stitching. Glad to have gotten him off the subject of your thoughts, you sit up.

“It’s getting late. Gotta start heading back before the old man gets too suspicious,” you stand, brushing yourself off. Leon grunts, standing up himself, adjusting his hat unto his head. “I’ll be back in a few days, ‘m going to get stuff settled at the new place. That enough time for you to have an answer for me?” He watches you fix your clothing and hair back into place, his fingers twitching. “That should be enough,” You answer, nodding your head. “Alright, I’ll see you then. Take care of yourself, you hear?” Leon asks, walking closer. “Of course, Leon. You do the same, don’t get into any trouble while you’re gone,” you say, patting his arm. He hesitates, clenching his jaw. He’s grabbing your wrist before you step away. Pulling you into an embrace, his nose burying itself into your hair. “I meant it. Whatever you need, whatever I can do to make you the most comfortable, feel the most safe, I’ll do it. I care for you…I only want what’s best for you. Now that I’m old enough to, I want to make that promise. I promise to be there for you, always. To never let harm come to you, even if you say no to coming with me. I’ll be back each week to check in. I won’t…Forget you–” starting to choke up, he takes a deep inhale before continuing, “You’ll always be on my mind, you always have been. Since the day we met, from the school’s playground to us sitting under these trees. You never leave my thoughts. I just want you to know how much you mean to me.”

You’re clenching your hands into his flannel. There’s so much you wish you could say. It’s begun to build up over the years. Unspoken words teeming at the surface, your affection almost suffocating you. Listening to his continued spilling of words, you release one hand from the fabric, feeling its way up his chest, his thudding heartbeat briefly felt under your hand before making its way further up to its destination. Finding its mark, his tanned cheek. You feel he’s also began to weep. He stops, shuddering at the feel of your skin on his. His own hand coming away from your back to cup over your own you’ve lain on his face. You two stay like that, for what seems like eons, both wishing it could be that long. Your own eternal peace with one another. You eventually lift your head up to meet his gaze. His eyes slowly open to see your own tearful stare. “Oh,” He whispers, his other hand not holding your own coming up, brushing away the wetness. His thumb drying the tears away, while feeling your features. So soft and warm underneath his calluses from his job out in the fields, tearing up the earth. ‘God, what I would do to wake up to this everyday’ he thinks to himself.

This close to him, you can see the sun kissed skin so distinctly now. The freckles and scars that dust his face. One mark in particular you’re familiar with, above his right brow. The one he got while climbing up that Crepe Myrtle, trying to get a certain bushel of flowers for you, barring you from climbing it yourself. Wise on his part, since he ended up falling out of it, earning that scar. It’s made more prominent from his tan. You brush over it and feel him shiver. He’s so sensitive to your touch…Do you have this much effect on him, like he does on you? It makes yourself shiver at the thought. With a faint touch, your hand travels down over his nose. Broken a few times in some scuffles, some in play, others in your honor. It occurs to you then, seeing that mark, the slightly crooked nose that those were because of you. You altered his body. You know he would gladly do it again and again for you, without question, and that scares you. You snatch yourself away, stumbling back into the tree’s trunk. Leon is staring at your withering form, wide eyed. “D-did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you, touch you somewhere you didn’t like? I’m so sorry–” “NO– God no. You didn’t,” You whisper. “What is it? Are you worried about touching me? Because you can touch me wherever, I don’t mind–""Leon.” You get out, wrapping your arms around yourself. “It ain’t any of that…It’s me. I’m no good for you.”

“What are you talking about?” He asks, walking closer to you. You try to take more steps back, the tree preventing you from doing so. You suck in air, trying to stifle the rising tears. “The scar above your eyebrow…Your nose…Broken a few times, all because of me. You’ve been hurt because of me. I can’t let you do that anymore.” Who knows what else will happen, especially in a new place, how much more harm would come to him. You’re staring at the ground, knowing if you meet his eyes, you’ll crumble. “I did all that because I wanted to, for you. I’d do it all over again too, without question. I promised you that I would protect you, keep you safe, no matter what. I Intend to keep all my promises to you. But don’t go cold on me, don’t push me away, please.” He begs, bracing himself against the tree with one hand, the other laying lightly on your forearm. “You don’t know the depths I’d reach for you,” he whispers, leaning in, brushing his head against yours. “Why?” You ask. He remains silent, his touch wavering on your arm, jaw clenched. “If I told you, it would probably change your answer…So, you think about it for a few days, and let me know what you decide. Then I’ll tell you.” He finally replies, voice wavering as he pulls away. He takes a few steps back, allowing you space.

“...Alright.” You answer, standing upright, lowering your arms back down to your sides. You keep your eyes firmly on the ground. You have quite a few questions for him, but you feel like you won’t be getting much else from him. “Hey, look at me,” he whispers. Finally allowing yourself to wash your gaze over his features once again, seeing his sad eyes, sad smile. “Three days, and I’ll be back. Now you think long and hard about it, and you get back to me with that answer, you hear?” You nod. “Okay,” he confirms, before turning and starting to walk away. “Leon!” You shout, walking forward a few steps. He turns his head, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “You be careful, you hear?” You tell him. He closes his eyes for a second, opens them, and smiles. “Okay.” Turning back around, his form slowly being swallowed by the trees.

You stand there until he’s no longer distinguishable from the foliage.

Straightening your clothing and hair once again, you start in the opposite direction of Leon, making the trudge back home.

Three days.

You hope you have an answer for him by then.

#o fics #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy angst #resident evil fanfic #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy x gn!reader #leon s kennedy x gn!reader #resident evil #resident evil 2

59 notes · View notes

barnesafterglow · 1 year

Text

nothing to lose

summary: after you start dating steve, it strikes a nerve with bucky, and your friendship may never be the same

pairing: frat!stucky x fem!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: college au, poly relationship, perceived cheating (but not really), cheesy confessions, bucky is an idiot but so is everyone else so it's ok

a/n: so this is a part two to a fic i wrote this summer, which was originally supposed to be just a steve fic, but i ended up leaning into the stucky vibes i created and wrote this. i loved writing it and i hope you enjoy it - please make sure to reblog and comment!

please make sure to read part one first!

main masterlist ─ i no longer have a taglist but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary to get notified when i update 🤍

You woke up the next morning with two pairs of arms wrapped around you - Bucky still snoring softly on one side and a fondly smiling Steve on the other.

“Mornin’,” he said, gently cupping your face, his thumb rubbing across your cheek bone. He placed a quick kiss to your lips, almost like he didn’t know if he was allowed.

“Good morning,” you replied, returning his smile. “How’d you sleep?”

“Once Bucky stopped trying to grab my ass from across the bed? Pretty great.”

That startled a loud laugh out of you, and Bucky shushed you, messily pressing a finger to your face - you think he may have been aiming for your lips - before rolling over.

You stared at Steve’s face, taking in the flecks of green in his blue eyes and the freckles lightly dusting his nose, and thought about how you had wasted so much time when he could have been yours.

“Did you mean it?” His words snapped you out of your trance, and your eyes met his.

Your own hand reached to cup his face, and you laid like that, just looking into each other’s eyes for a moment.

“Of course I did, every single word.”

The smile that broke across his face lit you up inside, warming you even more than the two bodies encasing you. Your lips found each other then, a slow kiss that said more than any amount of words could. When one of his hands found your waist, gripping tight as he nipped at your bottom lip, you couldn’t help the moan that slipped out.

He tried to swallow it down, mindful that Bucky was still asleep beside you, but it was too late.

“If you’re going to fuck in my bed, at least let me join in.”

You laughed as Bucky’s arms came around you again, and Steve gave him a friendly shove, but you saw the blush in his cheeks, and you were surprised by how much you didn’t hate the idea.

By the time you made your way downstairs, it was well after noon and there were sounds of a meal being cooked in the kitchen.

You stepped onto the cool tile, both Steve and Bucky following close behind you, and found Sam nursing a bottle of water, Peter laying with his head in his arms at the kitchen table, and Natasha cheerily making pancakes, no sign of a hangover in sight.

Despite you relatively sobering up towards the end of the night, you still grabbed a bottle of water and the painkillers on the table, handing them to Bucky - who had his hood up and looked like he would rather be dead - as well.

Steve, as was the case with most Sunday mornings, joined Nat in the typical “look at these hungover idiots” conversation while said hungover idiots waited patiently for breakfast to be done.

Once everyone had eaten their fill and the worst of your hangovers started to wear off, Nat and Sam exchanged a look, and you were already rolling your eyes.

“So, you finally made a move, huh?” Same teased, winking at Steve. “It only took four years.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Steve tried to act nonchalant, but you could see the tell-tale blush across his cheeks as he slung an arm over the back of your chair, and you leaned into his side.

Peter, always the last to get it - despite the fact that he was graduating top of your class, the boy really lacked in the common sense department - finally put two and two together and his eyes went wide.

“Congrats, Steve! But what about -” His words were quickly cut off by Nat throwing a fork at him, though he caught it mere inches from his face. You wanted to question him, but Nat started talking about something Scott had done the night before.

As everyone else joined in, you were so caught up in the conversation that you missed the sad but pointed look Natasha gave Bucky.

It took about a week for you to notice.

You and Steve had been pretty caught up in each other, keeping to yourselves more than usual, but by the time Nat knocked on your apartment door, you had started scheming up a plan to corner Bucky.

With a glass of wine in your hand, you let her in and made your way to the kitchen to pour another.

“Have you talked to Buck lately?” She sounded casual, which you knew meant she was anything but casual.

“I was actually about to invite him over. Why?”

She let out a soft hum, noncommittal, and you eyed her warily.

“What did I do?” you sighed, because she always knew before you did. Always.

“Oh nothing.” It was never nothing.

“Natasha,” you whined, and she repeated your name in the same tone.

“Talk to him,” she ordered, draining the glass in her hands. “Please.”

And it was that whisper as she left your apartment that left you wondering how bad you had fucked up.

It was the next day, as Bucky sat on your couch for your usual movie night, that you finally got some kind of answer.

“Hey Buck,” you hedged as you scooted to face him, “how are you?”

He looked like a deer in headlights. “Me? I’m fine.”

“You didn’t come out with us last night.”

“I was tired.”

“Or game night before.”

“Busy.”

“Or to Nat’s last recital.”

“She knows why.”

Fine, if he was going to play stupid, you were going to have to play dirty.

You inched closer to him as he stared straight ahead at the TV, pretending not to notice.

In one quick motion, you tackled him onto the couch, tickling him as you straddled his hips. Since you were little, it was the most surefire way to get what you wanted from him. You couldn’t remember a time it hadn’t worked.

Except the last time you tried it you had been about 13, and now he was much taller and much stronger than you, so it took almost no effort for him to flip the tables, pinning you underneath him instead.

Your chest heaved, out of breath from the small amount of exertion, and when you looked up, Bucky’s face was so close to yours that you could feel his breath fan across your face.

So close you could- no. You were dating Steve. Bucky was your best friend. You were dating Steve.

Still, despite yourself, your eyes flicked to his lips and back up to his eyes, while he was doing the same. Before you could even think to move away, his lips were coming down over yours.

It lasted half a second, a short kiss packed full of emotion.

And then he was all but flying off of you, staggering and mumbling to himself. All you could make out was Steve and sorry, and you tried to make your way towards him, tried to calm him down, but he stayed out of your reach.

“Talk to Steve,” he said finally. “I’m sorry I- just- just talk to Steve. Please.”

And then you were left standing alone in your living room.

You paced the length of your apartment, trying to figure out what to do. You wanted to call Natasha, but you needed to talk to Steve first. But this wasn’t a conversation you could have with Steve over the phone. But if you showed up to their frat house, there was a chance you might run into Bucky first.

It took you all of five seconds to decide, and then you were shoving your feet in a pair of shoes and driving towards Steve.

There was no one in the living room when you walked in, and you didn’t pass anyone as you walked up the stairs. The house was a ghost town.

Steve was studying when you finally got to his room, and he broke into a smile at the sight of you, only for it to fall when he took in how distraught you looked.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” But something in his tone made you think he already knew.

“Bucky- he- oh Steve, I’m so sorry,” your voice broke, a sob coming through, and you felt sick to your stomach with guilt - not from the kiss, but the fact that you even wanted it.

He held you in his arms, and the guilt racked up even more as he stroked your back gently, whispering that everything would be okay. You didn’t deserve it.

“We were gonna wait to talk to you together. I guess he couldn’t wait.”

And that finally calmed down your tears, confusion settling just beside the pit in your stomach.

“What? What do you mean?” His hand stilled, now timid, and your confusion grew tenfold. “Steve, what do you mean?”

“He, well, we were going to talk to you. About our relationship.”

“Mine and yours?”

“Not exactly.” The voice came from behind you, and you turned to see Bucky there, hands stuffed in the pocket of his hoodie, looking like he didn’t think he belonged there.

But he always belonged with you and Steve.

Oh.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Steve spoke. “I was going to come over in a little bit, so the three of us could… sort things out.”

He sounded unsure, like maybe your reaction had changed his mind, but you shook your head.

“I -” You tried to speak, wanted to explain, but Bucky interrupted her.

“I kissed her.” You felt your face heat, shame coursing through you. “I tried to wait but… you know.”

“I know, Buck.” Steve held his arm out, beckoning him, and the three of you stayed like that, pressed together, and you felt so safe; you wanted to stay there between them forever.

Your boys.

“So,” you pulled back, looking at each of them, “care to explain a little bit?”

Steve tugged you towards the bed, still staying close, and Bucky followed suit. It was like neither of them could bear to stop touching you.

“Well,” Steve started, “I love you.”

Your breath hitched in your chest at the confession, and then Bucky spoke, “But I love you too. Have since we were 14 and you punch Quentin Beck in the face for making fun of my arm.”

The same arm that was tracing circles on your thigh now, cool metal seeping through denim, and he continued, “I always joked about it, us, because I was scared of losing you. Then I met Steve, and I loved him too.

“Then he met you, and it just seemed like it could be perfect. But I was still scared, then the two of you got together and I thought it was a lost cause.”

“And Bucky was never subtle,” Steve gave Bucky a pointed look, “I mean, the man joked about us being a throuple for the last three years, and it didn’t take me very long to realize he was never fully joking.”

You giggled, despite the tears now welling in your eyes again, and Bucky at least had the good sense to look sheepish. The pieces were falling into place, and it was turning out to be more than you could have ever hoped for.

“Turns out I love you idiots, too.” Their smiles were worth everything. “Now I need both of you to kiss me before I start crying again.”

Bucky placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, then turned your head and enveloped your lips in a kiss so passionate you were sure he could taste the tears now streaming down your face.

Steve wasted no time in turning you towards him and as he kissed you, Bucky placed kisses along your shoulder and neck, and you melted into them.

A bright smile lit the room as they shared a kiss across your body and in that moment, everything felt right.

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky x reader #stucky x reader fic #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #tiff writes #nothing to lose

366 notes · View notes

abysswalkerastraea1 · 10 months

Text

The merchant/female reader smut

You don't know how you outran the chainsaw man, but you did, and now your nerves were alight with adrenaline and panic. Running from one terrifying man and into another, you couldn't quite yet tell if this merchant of sorts was going to hurt you or help you. Either way, having your face shoved into the table and a firm grip on your hips from behind wasn't the plan, but you weren't complaining. You were too delirious for that.

size kink

gun kink

on my a03 under name 'exhiliration'

Two policemen and a stoic looking man drove past you on a barren road surrounded by trees and dust, stopping in what looked like an opportunity to help you, though you knew this wasn't the case when the only thing one officer had to say was that your choice of vacation was poor.

Judging by the way bodies seemed to be littered in the thick bushes or hanging from trees, you agreed.

The stoic man, Leon, you eventually found out further on into your journey, was seeking the presidents daughter. Every sentient being seemed to question your motives, and bizarrely you didn't have one.

You weren't here to save the presidents daughter, nor help the town in anyway.

Your luck was disastrously awful to have strayed very, very far from your path, venturing instead to some remote Spanish Town in the middle of no where.

Its imperative that you get out, you thought. Your mind screamed at you for an escape here and now, but you knew that wasn't possible. Remaining calm was all you could do, navigating discreetly through the hordes of Ganados.

You were shaking, blunt knife in hand and held high wherever you went. Your small stature and silent nature allowed you to navigate relatively unharmed, fingers bleeding from the amount of times you'd climb roofs or walls to avoid the main paths the Ganados took.

That is, until a stray man with a chainsaw and eyes bulging out of the sack on his head began screaming and hunting you down.

You didnt even think, only tripped and ran as fast as possible, chest heaving and gasps coming out in pained exhales, throat feeling like it was on fire. There was a door up ahead, and although risky to simply barge through, anything was safer than a terrifying chainsaw man fast approaching.

Tumbling through the door roughly, you had to barely catch yourself from collapsing as you studied the room like a hawk before moving to a large crate in the very back. This was your only chance, and the door you just ran though began shaking, hinges squeaking and screeching disturbingly as the madman outside was in such a fit of rage that he attempted to force the door off its metal hinges before he got to you.

Shaking and whimpering, you knew there was no hope that a single, wooden crate would stop his wrath. There had to be another way, some sort of escape.

Glancing around in circles desperately, your mind whirled in a state of unbearable panic as you darted further into the room for an answer to your prayers, anything to just --

Your breath was knocked out of you as you barrelled into something large and heavy, mind fighting to keep up with the state of your panicked, flailing body as you automatically fought against whatever you fell into. Exhaling rapidly, your wide and frenzied eyes gazed up, and up some more, at what appeared to be a heavily robed individual, piercing yellow eyes tinged red and face entirely covered other than the eyes.

You couldn't even breathe anymore. You had just ran into an even bigger madman than the one hunting you with a chainsaw, this individual evidently male and strong and terrifyingly powerful no doubt compared to you, and the only sound that tore through you was a rapid, pained inhale before the most gut wrenching screech came out of your horrified body.

You couldn't even stop it, body going absolutely haywire as the parasite-infected man grabbed you by the forearms and shook you firmly at first, soon becoming rougher and more desperate and you had no idea why--

''Get off!'', you shrieked, brandishing your pathetic excuse for a knife before going in for a killer shot to the ribs.

With the way your hands were already shaking, it came as no surprise that the male was able to swiftly secure his hand around your wrist before squeezing tightly, the sound of your knife clattering permeating the room alongside your horrific screaming.

Kicking the man in the shin hard, you ripped yourself out of his clutches and made for the door. Hand outstretching desperately for the handle, you wailed in distress as a large body secured itself around your back, one arm wrenching itself around your midsection and over your limp arms, while the other raised to force a hand over your mouth, muffling your cries.

You struggled, body moving left and right, but the man behind you felt like a wall. Eyes wide, you fell limp in his arms after struggling to the point of bruising yourself, tears cascading down your cheeks and blurring your vision.

Thats when you heard it, a voice. Suddenly, the blood pounding in your ears disappeared enough to hear the muffling of--

''I can't let you go until you calm yourself, darling.'' A heavily accented voice spoke from behind you, hand still firm as ever over your mouth as you breathed heavily through your nose. The presence at your back loomed above you like a dark shadow, unmoveable and stubborn.

Whimpering, your eyes crinkled as more tears fell, and you physically flinched as you felt the large hand over your mouth move its thumb to brush away the tears gently. ''Come, now'', the strange man shushed, the sentiment sounding odd in his rough accent. ''I'll let you go if you promise not to scream; Swear on it, honest.'' His hand slowly loosened, and eventually you found the courage to nod slowly until his form left yours and you were granted freedom.

Standing hunched in on yourself, you turned clumsily so you faced the man, stumbling over your own two feet and barely managing to hold yourself still, probably due to the adrenaline fading, leaving you a weakened mess. You stared at his chest, down to his feet, fearful of gazing into those eyes you swore were red. ''Odd way to meet, stranger.'' The man mused, and from your peripheral you could see the way his head declined somewhat and tilted in an attempt to seek out your own.

There was a temporary silence as you felt his gaze upon you, your feet shuffling away slowly. His own feet approached you upon every backstep you took. You inhaled shakily at this, eyes firmly upon the ground as you discreetly searched for any nearby weapons. You caught sight of a knife not too far from your foot, shrouded in the shadow of a nearby crate. ''Didn't mean to startle you,'' he placated almost guiltily, ''Couldn't have those demented bastards running loose in my shop, though. You understand, surely.''

Chancing a slow glance to your surroundings, you noticed that the room was entirely stacked with ammo, knives, guns and first aid. In the corner sat a peculiar, blue fire, flickering languidly without a care in the world. Your upwards glance allowed the surprisingly swift man to edge more into your vision and duck a tad to stare you in the eyes.

Your own were still wide, tear stained and red rimmed, and finally peering at his slouching form made you realise that this man was making himself appear smaller in the hopes of intimidating you less, for his natural stance was tall and wide. You were small, you supposed. The only question, only utterance after all that had transpired--

''S-shop?'' you whispered, blinking over at the many different guns and assuring yourself that this was definitely a shop of some kind. A black market, perhaps.

''Mm,'' he affirmed with a casual hum, ''Got a few tucked away in places those Ganados would never go. Can't have them interfering with business, and all that.'' he brushed the subject off easily, as though this was entirely normal when it really, really fucking wasn't-

''And you're..'', you trailed off, crouching slowly with your eyes still upon him to grasp at the knife on the floor. Rising, you swallowed nervously. ''You're normal. Not--not ones of those freaks?''

The cloaked man watched your every move like a hawk, piercing eyes honing in on your every action. His gaze held some peculiar type of apathy, black eyebrows perpetually neutral and bland. He didn't seem concerned with your offensive stance. ''Not really normal, but as far as parasites are concerned, you have nothing to worry about there.'' He wheezed a laugh, amused at himself, before his eyes fell to a standstill boredom once more. ''Nothing to fear.'', he affirmed more seriously, gaze flickering between your fearful but guarded eyes and the knife in your hand.

''You going to use that, stranger?'', He indicated with a nod to the weapon, taking a cautious step forwards. '' 'Cause I'd rather you didn't''.

Breathing unsteadily but far calmer than earlier, you took a soft step backwards. ''Haven't decided yet.''

''Mm, well, if there's one thing I've learned, it's that you should never act on something unless you're dead sure of the outcome and the.. Consequences.'' He almost hissed, but not in a malicious way. It was contemplative, soft, and once again did not suit the ruggedness of his accent.

''Sounded like a partial threat.'' You stated defensively, hands shaking as you backed up even more, slowly.

''No intention of threatening you, darling.'', he took a larger step forward, and yet you could not sense any malicious intent from him. Still, it shocked you a little, and before you knew it your back was against the wall. His boots thudded against the floor before he was four feet in front of you, looming above. Standing at his full height, your head inclined upwards and that fearful look appeared once more. ''But it's best to be certain of your actions before you go swinging that thing around.''

Before you could even respond, the man lunged forward and struck the knife from your hands. Jolting in fright, you yelped and cowered, shaking hands moving to cover your face. When his brutal strike never came, you peered up through the gaps in your fingers. You found him already staring down at you in contemplation. ''Might be an idea to brush up on your hand to hand combat and knife skills, stranger. I can make 'er sharp again, but she'd be useless if you couldn't wield 'er tidy."

Trembling fingers slowly dropping from your face, you stared up in bewilderment at the hooded mans tilted head, awaiting a response, and plastered yourself to the wall as his gloved hand reached into his robe and pulled out a large, terrifying knife.

"Now there's a knife, stranger. Course, this one's mine," he twirled it within his hand skillfully, "though I'm certain I've got a few beauties I could palm off. Throw in a discount, maybe, to make up for frightening you, miss." He chuckled low, golden eyes flashing like lightning in amusement, but also sincerity.

Then, in almost adoration, his gaze swept over the weapon in his hand, watching it twirl and dance with unconscious ease in his palm, before sheathing it somewhere beneath that mysterious robe once more.

Now with nothing to distract him, his intimidating gaze found yours. With you glued to the wall and attempting to keep as much distance between you as possible, the man barely moved, watching you, and it soon become a hardship to even see around his large, cloaked form.

It was peculiar; you couldn't tell if the bulk beneath his robes was simply his merchandise for selling, or partly his form. Still, he had proved himself bigger, stronger, and you doubt you could do much against that.

A shriek tore through you as the door began rattling and shaking wildly, no doubt something was throwing itself against it in sheer rage. You were a trembling mess, and sought the merchants gaze desperately, daring to even peel yourself from the wall and rush to his side.

"What is that? We need to leave, its going to break the door down--" your voice shook and broke, clutching at his arm and attempting to tug him towards a small window in the corner, but the man barely moved.

"Leave? Darling, look around you. Him out there's got more reason to be scared of us." He barked a laugh, indicating to the multiple weaponry and ammo stacked in the shop.

"T-then surely you can kill it!" You rushed to the end of the small room, towards his shop, and grabbed at whatever weapon you could find. Your hands swept across many guns that you couldn't name, until you tried lifting the biggest there, long and probably big enough to need to rest on your shoulder.

It was hard to lift, but in your panicked state you grabbed it anyway, until a pair of arms seemed to appear from behind you, gripping it skillfully before dropping it back to the table. "Stranger that's a mighty weapon," he appraised, gently nudging you away from the weapons.

Realising your proximity, you spun around, staring up at the man whose eyes crinkled with a hidden grin. "But I think you're getting a bit big for your boots there, miss. Not one to judge, but perhaps that particular weapon is on the..", he paused, eyes alight with amusement, "larger side."

You don't know why - and it was entirely inappropriate - but your face heated. Glancing away, your eyes remained honed on the door. "We don't have time for this. You're the weapons master, couldn't you just kill whatever the fuck is out there?" Your voice wavered desperately, seeking out his gaze once more.

"Surely I could." He replied casually, completely unafraid.

"Then please--"

"Calm yourself, miss. Nows a better time than any to try your hand at a weapon." The man began rummaging through his collection upon the table, mumbling to himself. Then, swiftly, he began to open his robe, displaying even more weapons and showcasing his muscled thighs and leather boots.

You blinked rapidly. You felt terrified, attracted and wanting to cry all at once due to this madman. "I don't know how!" You huffed, huddling behind him as the door rattled and Spanish profanities were muffled behind it. "Please, help-"

The merchant shook his head stubbornly. "Not one to deny a lady many things, but just this once, I will. Got a keen eye for spotting hidden talents", he chuckled deep, gripping your smaller hand and slotting an SMG into it, and carefully gripping your other hand to hold it more securely.

Your eyes littered with tears at the utter confusion, anger, bewilderment you felt - and yet the man spoke on and on about guns all the while the door was almost broken off its hinges, red eyes staring through the broken wood at you.

"Try this one out. As a virgin handler, might scare you a bit, which is why I've given you my smallest one. But I've upgraded 'er to hold a God fearing amount of bullets. You want to tear through a village? She's the one for you." He cackled, unperturbed by the death surely awaiting them, and instead moved behind your smaller stature and leaned over you, hands adjusting themselves over your own upon the gun and putting your hands into position.

His deep voice was heavy in your ears, and you felt such a mixture of pure terror and many other things that you felt your head might explode. "I've got you." He spoke low enough for you to hear, and not for the madmen about to break in and rip you to shreds. "Aim and shoot, that's all. I'm here, darling, and I've got a feeling you're going to do a fine job."

One of the ganados had managed to break part of the door, arm flinging through and flailing wildly. Without warning, the merchants finger rested over your own and shot. A single bullet flew and sunk into the ganados wrist, blood splattering the door and half his wrist barely dangling with bone and muscle.

You gasped, hands shaking so badly you would've dropped the weapon if not for the mans firm hold over you. You felt sick, but the merchant murmured encouraging things into your ear and pressed your finger down for a more extended period, bullets spraying out rapidly and tearing through the ganados body until it fell backwards, unmoving, making way for the next ganado.

"There we go, one down!" He cheered madly, though you found it put you off the sight of blood and you began to feel something close to achievement.

You didn't even feel the merchants finger leave your own, and you shot the gun all by yourself, bullets leathering the target and making you gasp out a mixture of a scream and a laugh all at once, his hands steadily helping you aim as you shot the ganado in the head, neck, shoulder - until he dropped, and you felt a sick sort of elation like a mad woman.

"Well done, stranger!" He boomed in your ear, in a peculiar awestruck way, and you felt warm at his praise and the feeling of his body against yours and the power this weapon made you feel.

Restraining a laugh that built up in your throat, you felt the merchants hands leave your own and rest upon your shoulders. Barely thinking, you took aim on your own and shot. The bullet broke through the door, missing your target who was desperately trying to bash the hole in the door down. "Oo, close! Better hurry stranger, looks like he's on his way in!"

You breathed shakily, taking aim once more before firing once, hitting the ganado in the stomach. The merchant praised you once more, and your breath hitched at the feeling of his deep voice in your ear. You don't know if he noticed, but the feeling of his thick hands trailing from your shoulders to your waist had you leaning into him.

With a bizarre feeling of joy and elated vengeance on these ganado, you fired repeatedly at the body now beginning to mangle and flail, ignoring the gore and targeting the next, and the next, laughter rising in your throat once more as the merchant cheered wholeheartedly.

"Double kill! You've got a hidden talent in those delicate hands of yours, darling." You could hear the smirk, feel his golden eyes staring into you, and tinged pink like a maniac as you cut through the last few enemies before they dropped to the ground, silent.

You were trembling in both fear and delight. You felt sick at your joy, but also so elated that it almost felt pleasurable having this man whisper encouragement in your ear, guiding your hands, knowing you were safe if you messed up.

You were so lost in your thoughts, in your adrenaline, that you didn't lower your weapon, still aimed at nothing until the males firm hands left your waist and gripped the gun gently from your hands. "A very well done to you, stranger. Must admit, I liked what I saw." His chuckle felt hot against your skin even through the bandana covering his lower face.

You turned in his grip, staring up at him with wide eyes, hand moving to cover your own gaping mouth.

"For that performance, I'm more than happy to let you keep 'er. Makes my heart sing when a weapon falls into the right hands." His gloved palm rubbed down your arm, eyes alight with something, before it rose once more to push your wild hair behind your ear. Your eyes sparkled up at him, a tumultuous concoction of downright nausea at the blood and gore pooling behind you, and yet euphoric satisfaction of surviving, killing those parasitic bastards, feeling so utterly powerful with the merchant at your back, proudly cheering you on.

Something must have became transparent in your features, for the merchant eyed you knowingly. "Everything alright, miss? You seem..", he tilted his head, gloved hand tilting your chin up, "at a loss for words."

You nodded dumbly up at him, hand resting over his that now lay upon your cheek. "I-i feel..", you stammered, heart hammering, pressing against the bulk of his front.

"Exhilarated?" He finished lowly, playing with a lock of hair between rough fingers, eyes crinkling.

You felt something deep heat up within you. This was so wrong, so inappropriate and dirty but-

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

The feeling was indescribable in your already blood crazed state and euphoria. Heat bloomed in your centre, cheeks alight with scarlet as your mouth hung open in constant pleasure.

You don't know how it started or who made the first move. You remember the big, tall, towering and peculiarly attractive so called merchant staring down at you with golden eyes that could light you ablaze, even with his being shadowed in robes.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, or the proximity of this man, or even the fact that you've somehow survived and thus a celebration of life is required, but you had somehow ended up in his bulky arms, free of the oversized robe but with still far too much clothing covering him.

And the mass beneath the robes was certainly something to behold. In your hazy mind, you thought the simple word of strong best suited him. It was surprising, how swiftly the man could lift your whole body up and against his being.

You both acted with haste, you especially, and you briefly remember the flashes of heat spreading through you as the hooded male behind you pinned you to one of his tables littered with bullets and magazines, watching in hunger as you reached down to desperately unbuckle your belt and shimmy your jeans down.

That was as far as you got, you remember. The merchants gloved hands stroked down your thighs, splaying across the thickness of them, before pushing one outwards, spreading them as far as possible with your constricting jeans.

You were heaving, a wanton mess already, mortified to feel the heat and slick that had gathered so suddenly. "My, my.." the male mused in wonderment, removing a glove slowly before smoothing along your spread thighs. His trail tingled your flesh, desperate as your hips inclined. "Blowing the brains out of them ganados made you hot and bothered?" He chuckled breathlessly, in disbelief almost, before his expert hands moved to caress your slick folds.

"My kind of woman.", you moaned at his actions, his voice and words, and gripped his arm tightly at the hot intrusion of his rough fingers spreading you.

Breaking out of your thoughts, the merchant had soon seen your enjoyment for his rough handling, seemingly by accident, and had happily grabbed you all over after witnessing your hot cheeks and the girlish fluttering of your eyes, holding you like a toy, manhandling you.

Now, you found yourself on hands and knees, jeans still hanging around your thighs as your core dripped and your slit opened and welcomed the sinful intrusion of his thick girth, two strong hands on your hips as your face hit the table full of ammo, mouth agape in a long, keening moan.

"Oh, oh-" you chanted, your insides full and pulsing with need as the grip on your hips tightened and his cock surged forward, burying into you filthily, over and over.

"This is--Oh, god, its--" you trailed off, eyes hooded in pleasure and knuckles turning white as you gripped the table and took everything, the lewd sound of your slickness permeating the air, his length slamming into you and spreading you open.

"Glad to be of service, sweetheart.", the merchant chuckled, sounding somehow strained but far more composed than you and your keening sounds.

You can't remember the last time you had a man, and after such a long time you couldn't help but adore the stretch and heat everytime he withdrew only to pummel into you once more, snugly hitting your cervix and jostling your body forward on the table.

The sounds of bullets rolling around the table and hitting the floor rung out in the room, and your eyes suddenly darted to the broken down door, wide open, bodies littering the floor, panicked. "Wait, what if someone - Ah - what if someone-", you couldn't finish your sentence, for each time you tried to he took that moment to thrust into you even deeper, pushing you down hard into the table and delighting in your flustered mewls.

Your voice sounded pathetic and you knew it, the pleasant sound of that deep chuckle behind you spiking an embarrassed warmth across your body.

Then you felt something cold within your hands, a large palm shutting your hand tightly. "You know what to do should that happen."

It was the SMG from earlier, your hand clutching it and somehow the danger of this weapon, the power now granted to you, made you flush hotter than ever, dizzy on arousal for the man behind you.

Gnawing at your lip, you gazed over your shoulder at him, eyes lidded, and raked your eyes across him languidly, greedily. The towering man seemed to take notice, hands returning to your hips and tightening, golden eyes upon you as you clutched the handle of the gun tightly and stifled a moan through the teeth clenched upon your lip.

A sudden hard thrust broke your restraint, mouth agape, gasping, your free hand moving back on its own accord to grip tightly at the hands holding your hips. They were rough hands, marred with scars and callouses, encasing your hips so easily, so strongly, hips gliding into your slick heat with need.

He was girthy and long, splitting you open shamelessly, groaning low and contrasting symphonically with your high pitched, keening whines and cries. Your voice became strangled, jaw aching against the wooden table and knees quivering, barely holding yourself up.

''You're shaking, sweetheart.'', he commented smugly, almost in disbelief but not quite. Gripping your tangled hair, he gently nudged your head to the side so your cheek was flat against the table and he could gaze upon the side of your face, flushed and dazed. You knew that with your mouth in a constant state of moaning, you were drooling ever so slightly.

''Aww, darling.'', he cooed, and out of all the things he had done so far, that condescending tone of voice was the one thing that made you turn truly scarlet and whine incoherently, your stomach fluttering with arousal. Chuckling, you felt him grip your waist before flipping you over, sitting you atop the table.

You suddenly found yourself in his bulky arms, long strides taking you across the room to push you up against the wall. Your breath hitched, delirious for him, lip gnawed in anticipation as those acidic yellow eyes burned through you in a torturous amusement, eyes crinkling, head tilting inquisitively at the way you cried out at his sudden intrusion, mocking you silently. It was clear that he knew you enjoyed it, his teasing of your fucked out state - bizarrely - and could only weakly grip his thick biceps as the man began fucking up into you with increased fervour.

''Oh!'', you cried consistently, barely able to gasp in air before it was being pushed out of you swiftly.

The merchant gripped a fistful of hair, wrenching your head back. ''So greedy, stranger. So sinful, aren't you?'', he mocked, thrusting so deeply and firmly you couldn't even focus on the broken door any longer, pleasure engulfing you as you nodded dumbly at him, chanting shy agreements to all the dirty accusations he had of you.

He groaned, brows lowered in concentration, gaze honed in on your blissful expression and lidded eyes. You could feel him pulsing lightly, and whined as he came to a sudden halt.

You stared at him in frustration, eyes welling with tears and jaw clenched pitifully. You wiggled your hips, but to no avail. The man merely held you tighter, retrieving his hard and soaked cock out of you until only the tip nudged at your entrance. ''I've got to ask, stranger..'' He began, peering down at the way your sopping hole pulsed and quivered in need, and instead glided his rigid length along your sensitive folds.

You sighed softly, blinking at him slowly, insides electrified with a white hot heat. ''I'm close, and I need to know where you want it.'' He hummed in delight afterwards, catching the tip in your desperate heat only to drag it away and glide over your clit instead.

You stared at him dumbly, squirming in his hold for him to just fuck you already--

A firm grasp squeezed your throat, and you could only whine and flutter your eyes up at him pleasurably, biting your lip. You could feel your wetness seeping down your thighs and huffed. From the way his eyes sparkled, he was smirking. ''Got an insolent little brat on my hands, have I?'' he cooed, squeezing your throat tighter. ''Would you rather it in your mouth, decorating that beautiful face and tits?'' he inched into you slowly, feeling the way you gripped him like a vice.

Your blush returned in full, eyelashes littered in unshed tears as your eyes darted from his own and to his chest shyly. Slowly, you shook your head.

''Oh? Then am I to assume you want it inside you, darling, hot and filling, mm?'' He growled, the hand encasing your neck moving so a thumb could dip between your parted lips, and you eagerly accepted it, sucking and nodding, eyes fluttering up to his once more.

Your insides opened up for his sudden intrusion, thick cock splitting you open and gliding into you to the hilt. Your mouth opened in a gasp around his thumb, delighting in his depth and crying out as the man fucked you hard and fast, no longer holding back.

You began to babble, crying at the pleasure, your orgasm so close, so close, a few more thrusts and--

''Oh god, oh fuck, oh! Harder, please--!'' You wailed, panting, hips fucking against his own and insides contracting and squeezing him so blissfully you could hardly think coherently anymore.

The merchant groaned lowly, hotly, cock pulsating and stuffing you full until a blooming, wet and sloppy heat pulsed into you, the male above you swearing low before moving both hands to grip your hips and slamming you down onto him hard. You moaned aloud, ropes of cum shooting into you and filling you for the final time before he stopped moving altogether, sighing contently.

Your thighs quivered in his grip, breathing unstable as his cum began slipping out and around his length, dripping lewdly onto the floor. After a few moments, the merchants previously tight and dominating grip loosened into one of polite softness, holding your waist steady as he lowered you to the floor.

Your shaking legs touched the floor, copious amounts of fluids oozing out of you as you flushed and dazedly gripped him for support. His grip remained on you, lowering himself to pick you up before sitting you upon the table, legs spread around his waist.

''You're a fucking delight, miss. A real treat.'' He winked playfully, eyes trailing down to your red and puffy labia covered in cum. ''And as I said, you can keep the weapon, free of charge. But do return, yeah?'' He chuckled lowly, palms stroking your inner thighs.

You swallowed, legs spreading wider at the feeling of two fingers opening you. ''O-or I could stay? For now?''

The merchant paused in thought, humming to himself, before smirking behind his bandana and pushing two fingers into your over sensitive hole. His eyes lit like fire at the way you moaned softly and gripped his wrist. ''A fine idea. I'm not even close to being finished with you, darling.''

#resident evil #resident evil 4 #re4 remake #re4make #re4 merchant #the merchant #resident evil 4 remake #gun kink #size difference

40 notes · View notes

cosmos-coma · 1 year

Text

Blood and Vengeance - Part 1

A/N: I've had this story saved in my drafts for a while now and i think about it every dang day so here it is! Finally!

Pairing: Dettlaff x Reader

Words: 1332

Summary: You answer an ad for a housekeeping job at the estate of the two new mysterious visitors in town, despite strange rumors circulating around town you know the pay makes it well worth it. However, when you arrive it seems to be part housekeeping and part "nanny" as you're tasked with getting the dark-brooding Dettlaff used to humans. surely this will go smoothly, right?

__________________

Your town had always been a sleepy place as far as you could remember. Small markets, rarely any visitors, and relatively little commotion as far as you were concerned; but maybe that's what attracted the two mysterious men to your tiny town.

Word of their arrival spread quickly and quietly through the streets of the town, warping the way all rumors do. Some said they just seemed like two standard rich men. One was pleasant, always carrying a bag of herbs and odd-smelling concoctions, and the other didn’t seem to like anyone and was strangely intense for such a quiet man. However, in no time those rumors faded out, instead replaced by speculation of criminal pasts, and fake identities- some even went so far as to swear they had seen them turn into bats when the veil of night fell.

Either direction the rumors went you found yourself growing more and more curious the longer you stared at the posted ad on the noticeboard.

It said they were looking for a few workers; mostly gardeners and people to help renovate- neither of which you knew how to do well enough, but you did think you could settle into the housekeeping role well. It looked like it paid nicely and you’d get to have a room at the manor as well. It was bound to be long hours and being on call at a moment's notice, but soon enough you should be able to save up a small fortune and live your life quietly on your own time.

You nodded, determined in your decision, and went straight there to apply, despite the way your nerves grew with each step.

As you walked up to the estate It’s multiple levels loomed over you and blocked out the low-hanging sun. You pushed open the iron-wrought gate which creaked with age as you closed it behind you and walked through the freshly tilled gardens. The home had been worn by decades of neglect and paint flecked off in patches here and there revealing an older color underneath.

“I guess they must’ve already found gardeners” you commented as you made your way up to the door. A deep breath steadied your nerves long enough to lift the heavy door knocker, clacking it against the old wood twice.

It was quiet for a short while before the sound of footsteps suddenly came from behind the door as it was pulled open with ease by an older-looking gentleman. His hair and sideburns were a sooty gray and his eyes held bags beneath them that betrayed the exhaustion his pleasant smile tried to hide. “Ah, you must be here to apply for one of the posted jobs?” He held his hand out for you to shake. “Emiel Regis, it’s a pleasure.”

You put on your best smile, shaking his hand as you introduced yourself, “Yes, um- I was hoping the housekeeping position was still open..?”

An amusing thought seemed to cross him as he glanced you over once more, barely noticeable if you weren’t watching. He nodded and ushered you in right away, into the darkened entryway. “Of course. Come in, come in- I might as well show you around if you're going to be working here,” he said, leading the way.

Two large staircases curved their way out and upward and met at the next level. Rugs lined each step and the hallway before you, worn to a small degree but mostly dulled with dirt, dust, and age. The wood lining the walls could use a layer of polish, but you were surprised to see what decent shape the interior was in.

Mostly the interior just showed aging, from the dimmed dirty windows to the cobwebs in the corners. “You’ll have to pardon the mess while we get everything put back to its former glory. The house Is big, but please don’t let it become daunting to you. I-” He paused his steps and his words to listen to the quiet house for a moment before he continued.

“Well if I have to be frank. This job is in part a regular housekeeping job, I assure you. But it is also because I would like to have someone to keep an eye on my dear friend Dettlaff.” He said, glancing back at you before he continued giving you a tour of the house. “I-I promise it’s nothing strange. Ah- but that probably only made it sound stranger, didn’t it?”

“Very much so..” you replied, laughing lightly, but still holding your satchel close as you went from room to room. A few of the rooms were more finished than the others- the bedrooms and the kitchens for example- others seemed to be more of storage for extra materials.

“I apologize… I had no intention of making you feel uncomfortable. It’s just- Well, how do I put this… Dettlaff is not good with people. At all.” Regis huffed in mild annoyance. Because Dettlaff was such a good friend, Regis could only acknowledge his shortcomings for what they were. Dangerous liabilities. “He feels far too much, but I think small introductions could be good for him; someone who can pepper him with how people work socially” He further explained, waving a hand of his with nails that were just a bit longer than normal.

This was all starting to get a little bit weird… but you still couldn't deny this kind of pay, plus room and board. “So you want me to be a sort of… glorified nanny for your friend?” You asked, increasing your pace to step side by side with the older man.

“Well, when you put it like that…” he began to mumble, but you quickly interjected.

“I’ll do it. When can I start?” you stepped in front of him and held out your hand to shake on it, causing the older man to stop short and raise his eyebrows in surprise.

“My, my… you certainly seem like a rather tenacious creature, don’t you? Though I think that could prove you well in dealing with him…” He smiled that friendly smile again and shook your hand. “If you’re up to it you can start tomorrow. I’ll create a list of daily duties and It’ll be waiting for you in the room we’ve set aside for you. We can discuss your pay after your first day, does that arrangement work for you miss Y/n?” He asked, looking at you with nothing but an earnest expression and kind eyes.

You smiled as you nodded, hefting your bag further up on your shoulder as you were led back to the front door and seen off by the older man.

You were quiet on your walk home, quickly scampering through the streets before the sun fully fell and the more malicious folks came out for the evening. As soon as the door clicked closed you shouted in excitement and did a little dance. You weren’t even a hundred percent sure where all the confidence had come from, but you didn’t care! A huge grin spread across your face as you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, shit, I’ve got to get packing…” you thought aloud as you sprung yourself up and began pulling things together. For once you were thankful that you had only been renting in this little town. It felt like ages ago that you had walked away from your childhood home to try and make a life for yourself and for once it seemed to actually be working out. You didn’t have too much to pack up, mostly books, clothes, and a few little knickknacks you had picked up over the years, but each one held a small special place with you.

A small smile painted on your expression as you put the last of your things away in a bag and gave the old place one last look around.

Tomorrow would change the trajectory of the rest of your life for you, you could feel it. And you had never been more ready.

_______________

Taglist: @writingmysanity @open--till--midnight (thought you might like to be tagged in this!)

Wanna be added to a certian taglist? DM me to Let me know!

#kinda didnt tag everyone in the usual witcher playlist becasue i know dettlaff isnt really in alot of pwoples scopes #wow typos but whatever #Dett comes in in the next chapter! promise!#dettlaff van der eretein #Dettlaff x Reader #Dettlaff x you #Dettlaff x Y/n #Dettlaff van der eretein x reader #Dettlaff van der eretein x you #Dettlaff van der eretein x y/n #emiel regis #blood and wine #witcher self insert #Dettlaff imagine #Dettlaff fic

58 notes · View notes

darkkitty1208 · 1 year

Note

Haiii, this is Rikaraholic from ao3. Cam you please write a fic where Stephen gets confused btw timelines when he is tired or sleep deprived. There are many timelines where Stephen, Tony and Peter live together as family. So one day when Peter asks him a doubt relating to Physics, he says this is your dad's area ask him.....Tony and Peter keep on asking him what he meant by that and he tells the truth. Those two re happy to hear about the other timelines and decide to make it true in the real timeline too....

Thank you for hearing my request

Thank you for the prompt! I love the general pattern of requests sent in my ask box lately being "Stephen is a mess. [Character X] deals with this guy." haha XD Quick note: I was in the middle of writing this when I realised your prompt had a more 'fluff' tone to it – as in, it seemed like it was leaning more towards the 'comfort' in hurt/comfort, – but unfortunately I decided to hurt him a bit more than necessary to compensate for the comfort first… I hope I didn't accidentally write something you didn't want/expect? Or maybe I got it wrong and you expected more angst? I dunno. Gets me overthinking.

But I do hope you enjoy this. <3 Sorry it took quite a while.

Beta'd by the awesome and amazing and lovely @harpywritesfic, who made me realise that, perhaps, writing at ungodly hours is not exactly a great idea.

a glimpse through time and space

Stephen was tired.

The battle had been long and exhausting, and the last thing he wanted to do was anything that didn't relate to sleeping in his bed for the next 12 or so hours. His body was aching, and even breathing felt painful. He could feel fatigue clawing up his nerves as the adrenaline died down, suddenly feeling aware of the pain radiating from his wounds that were recently tended to by some of Kamar Taj's healers earlier, rather messily now that he noticed. He could change his bandages later, he thought, somehow mustering up the slightest of strength to cast a (relatively weak) healing spell on himself just in case, as he cast away his robes in exchange for some old and worn thin shirt and loose trousers. He immediately face planted on the mattress with a grunt, ignoring the sting of the cut in his lip, and started drifting away as he felt the cloak settle itself over him like a heavy warm blanket as per usual.

God, he was exhausted.

*.~ ◇ ~.*

Stephen blinked his eyes open, and suddenly he was in the battle against Thanos in New York again. He remembered now, the events that should proceed from here – if his memories served right, that would mean the Avengers had succeeded in their mission to bring back those who had turned to dust during the Snap. Which meant that he, the sorcerers of Kamar Taj, and other allies, had gathered, alongside anyone capable to fight against Thanos, right then and there. His mind snapped back to the present as his body went into a fighting stance almost on its own volition.

Wounded, bloodied, and mostly unmoving bodies littered the battlefield as he trudged through, clangs and blasts of weapons whipping and flailing about in his peripheral vision as they overlapped against the sounds of grunts and shouting echoing in the air.

His instincts kicked in as he raised his defenses, conjuring each blast and whip towards oncoming enemies as the familiar tingle of magic surged through his veins to the tip of his fingers. Almost as if on cue, he heard the recognisable sound of splashing water readying itself to wash over the battlefield, and he turned around, swiftly working his fingers to drive the water away. The liquid danced and swirled in the air, soft blue amongst the stark red of the battlefield, and then everything shifted away as hues of green suddenly flashed before his eyes.

He gasped, the ground seemingly twirling and shifting underneath his feet, and then coming to a still as his now socked feet stood at wooden floorboards in – he looked around – the lake house.

Lake house. Of course, he was in the lake house. He remembered now, the battle had ended in Titan, everyone was safe and well and together and alive–

He shook his head. Of course everyone was alive. Why wouldn't they be?

Peter and Tony were lounging on the couch in different positions in front of the telly. He noticed a cup of steaming tea on the countertop in front of him, and carefully lifted it with trembling fingers to walk over and place it on the table in front of where his family sat. He groaned as he settled himself firmly beside Tony, Peter scooting over to the side to make space. The engineer's arm automatically slung itself behind his shoulders, and he leaned back, to the side, and pressed an instinctive kiss towards the man's temple.

Looking towards the television screen, he stared as whoever had messed up yet again in their dish last minute before Gordon Ramsay announced their time was over. He turned his head to stare at Tony, who noticed him and gave him a gentle smile. And then he felt the weight of Peter's head laying itself on his shoulder.

This is where he was meant to be. It felt right. He felt like he fit right in. Like a missing piece inside of him was found, like something clicked in his head as he realised that, in that moment, he was safe and comfortable and utterly complete.

Everything was perfect.

He looked at the television again as Gordon Ramsay shouted at the chef's mistake. Seems like they accidentally served raw meat again.

And then the screen froze and turned into black and white dots that danced all over the television screen.

He frowned, shifted in his seat, and then looked towards Tony, then to Peter, both seemingly unaffected by this. His frown deepened at that.

And then an almost terrifying ringing, static sound emitted from the television, steadily growing louder as he continued to try getting a reaction out of the other two. He waved a hand in front of Tony's face, called out the engineer's name, shook Peter's shoulder, panicking when no response was given.

Something was wrong.

He very nearly flinched when Tony began laughing out of the blue, eyes still fixed at the screen. Peter followed soon after with a giggle of his own, pointing at something in front of him.

Something was definitely wrong.

The static sound grew louder, and it became almost unbearable. Too loud. The laughs coming from his family– family? When did he have a family? He was alone. He was–

He couldn't remember anymore. What was happening? Where was he? His eyes flicked around, to the laughing figures beside him, to the static screen in front of him, his peripheral vision blurring as his throat suddenly felt constricted, breathing suddenly laboured.

The ringing grew louder. It felt as if he could hear it in his ears. The laughter continued even as he dropped off the couch, even as he stood up, even as he ran towards the nearest door he could find. He quickly pulled the door open with shaking hands, and just when he felt like his ears were about to bleed, a flash of white blinding light assaulted his vision.

He blinked his eyes back open again. It was blurry, almost as if he were half conscious, but the continuous sound of ringing was slowly fading into the background to be replaced by the steady thumps of his heart beating in his ears. There were vague silhouettes looming over him that he couldn't seem to make out.

Where was he again? What was he doing?

His vision stuttered to a focus as he blinked his eyes a couple times, and then he noticed who those figures were.

Pepper, Rhodey, Peter, Happy, a little girl, the rest of the avengers… but someone was missing. No, more than one person was missing.

Natasha. Tony.

He looked down at himself.

He was wearing a tuxedo. The air around him somehow smelled vaguely like… flowers. But oddly enough, the scent was nothing like the sweet scent of roses – it was sharp and musky and wet and pungent like… like marigolds.

"You killed them," the little girl said, almost as if she was reading his mind.

"You killed them," the rest repeated.

"I– I don't know what–"

"You killed them," they said again, and started to chant the words over and over. Stephen stared, panic rising as confusion clouded his mind. He stumbled to the ground when they stepped nearer, the chanting somehow becoming louder now.

There were more people gathering around now, hundreds of them joining to chant the accusation; some he recognised, others not so much.

"You killed them. You killed them. You killed them–"

He crawled back frantically, breathing hard in quick, stuttered breaths.

"Stop, wait–" he let out a shaking palm, "I didn't– stop! I didn't do it! I didn't–"

He placed his head in his hands, pulled at his hair, curled into a ball on the ground as his breaths came out in wheezes.

Still, the chanting continued.

He was confused. What was happening? Where was he? What was he doing here? And why are all these people accusing him of– of–

Stephen woke up with a gasp, jolting up from his bed with wide eyes as he panted for breath, the voices of their chants still echoing in the back of his head. The cloak bristled and swished over to the side to give him space at the sudden movement. He carded trembling fingers through his graying hair, pupils flicking hastily around the room. He clenched them shut, trying to steady his breath, body still shaking as he flopped back down to the bed with a soft thump.

It was just a dream.

It wasn't real.

None of it was.

He fluttered his eyes back open, inhales and exhales trembling and stuttering out of his mouth, but slowing down with – (un)surprisingly – practiced ease as he stared at the marks and cracks of the ceiling. The blanket was in a haphazard heap at the corner of his bed, and the cloak levitated steadily in the air beside him, looming over him and somehow managing to look concerned. He ignored it, instead focusing on the ceiling once more.

He glanced towards the window, noticing that the light streaming through the edges of the curtains were more like the yellowish orange hue of streetlights in a parking lot rather than the light blue of dawn. He glanced at the clock at his bedside table. He didn't get more than 3 hours worth of rest.

He sighed. He needed more sleep, he thought, and declined his body's wishes to just stand up and start the day early. He didn't know how long he laid there – sweating, breathing, staring at the ceiling, mind wandering places he refused to go, constantly shaking his head to rid off the images of various memories flashing across his mind – trying to get some more sleep. At some point Bohemian Rhapsody repeated in his head in a constant loop, blasting in the back of his mind even as he tried to stop it. Closing his eyes and focusing on the darkness behind his eyelids – don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it – didn't work much, either. Bohemian Rhapsody was soon replaced by Rasputin in his attempt to stop the loop, and that was much worse.

He grumbled in frustration, flailing, tossing, and turning all over his bed in search of a position that could help him sleep better. He even started counting in his head; with sheeps jumping over fences and all. When that didn't work either, he filtered out other sounds around him to focus on his breathing, distracting himself with the steady rise and fall of his chest.

He snapped his eyes back open when none of those worked. He stared at the cloak beside him, still swaying about in the air, expecting him to do something. Stephen sighed, frustratedly, and gave up.

There was no point in trying to go back to sleep. Not when he's just had… no, don't think about it. He shook his head, standing up, having to place his hand on the bedside table to steady himself when the abrupt movement caused a momentary blindness in his vision. One of these days he would just have to risk walking through the darkness and hope to the Gods he won't end up falling into oblivion or hitting random objects around him.

He trudged through the hallways, the cloak settling over his shoulders in comfort as he clutched its edges with trembling fingers to cover his chest and body like a human-sized (and red?) burrito. The cloak wrapped tighter around him securely in response. He walked down to the kitchen when he felt his stomach grumble. When was the last time he had a meal again? He was pretty sure he had a sandwich with Wong in the afternoon… No, in the morning. He had barely any time to eat or drink yesterday due to the sudden attack. His stomach grumbled again in protest, and he sighed, silently cursing at his own human and bodily needs.

He opened the fridge, searching around for food. There were vegetables he bought last week, definitely rotten now, and threw them away. There was milk, but it had become – he frowned – less… liquid-ish. Pouring it into a bowl, it seemed to stick when he touched it with a finger, even stretching up when he lifted said finger. Had a gooey-like texture to it. He tasted it a bit, nearly puking at the taste, and then immediately slamming it into the bin. Nothing else was in the fridge other than some… things he had gotten during his 'trips' that needed to be refrigerated. The jar of eyeballs he kept at the door of the refrigerator stared at him expectantly, silently mocking him and the mess he had grown to become. He glared back at them, and then shut the door of the fridge rather loudly in annoyance.

Rummaging through the cabinets, he found a jar of jam. He made a 'huh' sound, opened the lid, grabbed a spoon, took some of it out, and gave a tentative lick. His face immediately scrunched up at the taste, turning the jar over to check the expiry date. It was tomorrow. Was it tomorrow already? He made another 'huh' sound. In the trash, it went.

He searched some more, trying to find something for his early breakfast. Or late dinner…? He supposed it was more like a midnight snack. But no, wait, he was counting this as a meal. Midnight meal, then…? He shrugged. Midnight meal, it is.

There was some old bread, but some inspection resulted in finding a… green… thing… on it. Several, even. In different areas. Definitely throwing that out, too.

God, he really wanted that sandwich he had with Wong again. Would it be weird to go down to the deli at this hour? He supposed it– wait. Sandwich. He had leftovers from his last sandwich, he remembered now. He turned over to the fridge again to see if he had– his eyes caught the sandwich wrapping on top of the counter.

Ah. It had been on the countertop. It had been on the countertop overnight. For hours, laying there. Apparently he had forgotten to put it in the fridge. He made another 'huh' sound. Well, it's probably gone nasty now. In the trash again.

He leaned his elbows on the countertop, sighing, tousling his hair with both hands. God, he was a mess. What had led to this? He shook his head, continuing his journey to find food for this 'midnight meal'.

He found cereal in one of the cabinets, bought the same week, not expired, and definitely not tasting like it. He cheered silently, giggling a bit to himself in the small, momentary joy of successfully finding the not-expired-cereal. It was even enough to last for the entirety of the day if he wished so. He grabbed a bowl, a (different) spoon, and tried not to think about how weird it was to be eating cereal, without milk, in the dark, at the dead of the night.

He had been in weirder situations before, he supposed.

*.~ ◇ ~.*

He immediately locked himself in the Sanctum's library after the 'midnight meal' (after some fiddling with the badly wrapped bandages around his last injuries – seriously, he wasn't the egotistical doctor he used to be, but these people could be truly incompetent sometimes), thinking it was best to kill time by reading rather than attempting to sleep again. He's had quite enough of that. His mind was still rather sluggish, like some sort of brain fog, eyes droopy and heavy but never really tired enough to sleep. It was confusing and exhausting and utterly tiring.

At some point he had made himself a cup of tea, continued reading, tea again, reading, and when it reached his fifth cup of tea that morning, there was a bristling to the hair of his nape as he sensed the Sanctum opening its doors to welcome a familiar guest inside.

"Mister Doctor Sorcerer Supreme Stephen Strange Sir?"

He chuckled at the voice that came from downstairs, immediately stepping out and levitating down the staircase to greet the teen.

"Hello, Peter. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He hoped to God his croaky voice didn't give out how tired he was.

Peter had been swinging by the Sanctum rather frequently now – had he been? It was hard to remember when his memories were all flicking around and messily stacking against each other in confusion – occasionally to ask favours like helping him in doing homework.

"I um– so there's this…" he lifted up a notebook that was held in his hands, "it's uh–" he bit his lip, shifting in his feet as he tried and struggled to ask for the help he needed. Stephen took pity on the boy and stepped forward to gently take the notebook off the teen's hands, inspecting it.

It was a bunch of numbers and equations and… diagrams? He understood some of it, but not enough to actually answer the question it was asking. (If it was actually asking a question in the first place. There was a question mark down there, though, so maybe it did have a question.)

God, he was getting old. Where was his photographic memory when he needed it most?

This was more of Tony's area, he thought.

"This… this is more of your dad's area, Petey. Ask him instead."

Peter frowned. Stephen froze.

"My… dad? My dad is… He's…"

"–I meant Tony! Ask Tony," Stephen hurried to clarify.

"Mr. Stark? But he's not my–"

"Alright, bye bye."

In his panic, he teleported Peter to the front of the Sanctum's doors, which closed shut immediately upon his mental command. The boy yelped at the sudden change of position, but didn't seem to attempt going back inside. Stephen sighed, and even he was confused if it was a sigh of relief or of frustration.

It was probably both, he decided, and then went back upstairs to continue his cycle of reading-tea-reading-tea until Wong dragged him out to the Kamar Taj courtyard for teaching and the sort.

*.~ ◇ ~.*

Peter couldn't stop thinking about it. Ever since his last visit to the Sanctum, when Stephen had implied that Mr. Stark was his 'dad', the word had been swirling over in his head in a constant loop for days.

'Dad' was what he had said, loud and clear, unmistakable. What had it meant? Was there something Stephen (or Mr. Stark?) wasn't telling him? Was there something he didn't know?

Now that he thought about it, Stephen did look a bit troubled last time. He wondered what problems the sorcerer was facing – maybe it had just been a mistaken slip. Maybe he was just overthinking it. Maybe Stephen was just tired – and probably sleep-deprived, by the looks of it (if those dark bags under his eyes that made him look like Mr. Stark after days cooped up in the lab was any indication) – and he had just accidentally said it without meaning a thing. Yeah, that could be it.

But why 'dad'? The word was so peculiar and out of the blue, it was almost impossible that Stephen had mistakenly said it. Sure, Peter had his own fair share of accidentally calling his teachers 'mom', but that was beside the point; what had it meant?

He had tried texting Stephen to ask about it, but received no response regardless of however many times he had spammed the question. (He was never one to prefer calling – calls are for urgent things. He didn't want to demand Stephen's time and not give him a choice but to answer.) Which was why, the next time he saw Mr. Stark, he had gathered up the courage to explain the matter to the engineer.

"Dad?" Tony said, a frown on his face. "Ya sure the wizard said 'dad'? You didn't, I don't know, heard him wrong or something?"

"Yeah," Peter said, just as confused. "I'm sure I heard him right. He kicked me out of the Sanctum after that. Well, not like– 'kicked me out', more like," Peter looked down, eyebrows scrunched in thought, and then lifted his head to his mentor again, "like magically kicked me out?"

Tony's frown deepened.

"You mean teleported you out?"

"Yeah but like– like with magic," he explained, making unnecessary gestures with his hands. "Doesn't matter– point is," again with the hand flailing, "I… don't know what he meant by that. Maybe you, I don't know… Know something about this, Mr. Stark?" Peter bit his bottom lip, waiting for the billionaire's answer, who was currently frowning in either confusion or… something else. He couldn't tell when those indoor-worn glasses were on.

"No. I don't actually know. What happened when he realised he said it?"

Peter pursed his lips.

"I think he looked like he sort of panicked?" Peter replied, "And then he immediately magically kicked-teleported me out of the Sanctum."

Tony hummed.

"Should we go ask him instead?" Peter suggested, clearly too embarrassed to ask the sorcerer alone. With Mr. Stark beside him, the likeliness of getting an answer out of the doctor seemed larger – or maybe the opposite? He didn't know that much about their relationship, but Mr. Stark and Dr. Strange seemed to really like each other's company. They may bicker about like an old married couple sometimes, but all the (dare he say… flirty?) banter they had definitely indicated friendship. Or maybe more than that… That was an interesting thought. He would have to save that for later, though.

"Yeah, sure," was Tony's reply, which took Peter quite a while to digest what for because his mind seemed to be a bit distracted by the memory of Tony and Stephen standing in the donut spaceship or whatever thing, face to face in front of a perfectly lit view of space and stars outside, breath a mere inch from each other as he dangled about at the ship's ceiling.

An interesting thought, indeed.

*.~ ◇ ~.*

The moment Wong had given Stephen a proper look that day, he knew it would be One of Those Days, or so Stephen usually called, where the sorcerer wouldn’t be in… top-notch condition. Which was why, when he came back from the deli to bring back sandwiches for the two of them, he wasn’t exactly surprised to find Stephen sprawled out on the couch, practically unconscious, bags under his eyes – snoring, even. He wasn’t unused to the snoring, per se, but dear Gods above, was it loud.

But in all honesty, he’d rather suffer the wrath of Stephen’s snoring rather than having him fall face first or collapse on the ground in the middle of nowhere. And then having to drag him (or levitate him, who knows) around (again).

Yes, this was definitely better. Infinitely.

But when Stephen mumbled a bit in his sleep and then continued to snore louder, Wong had to suppress a groan and reconsider his life choices. God help him.

Just as he was about to place Stephen’s sandwich in the refrigerator – dammit Stephen, not the jar of eyeballs again – he felt a tingle in the constantly thrumming magic around him and in the walls, signaling that the Sanctum’s doors had opened on its own volition. He furrowed his brows, and then moved to see who had managed to infiltrate their home.

“Um, hello? Doctor Strange?" Ah. It was Peter. There was a man beside the teen who was wearing sunglasses, and Wong had to suppress a snort when he realised who he was. Of course it was Stark. Looking in Stephen's direction, he noticed the sorcerer had fallen off the couch and was gleefully sleeping on the floor, the snoring slightly muffled now as his face was squashed against the wood.

Tony stepped closer, frown visible even beneath the sunglasses.

"Doc?" he called out, and then turned to Wong, "Is he alive?"

Wong shrugged.

"Mostly."

Peter took tentative steps closer, kneeled beside the sorcerer's prone body, and nudged Stephen a bit with his hand. Stephen flinched upon the contact and jolted up with wide eyes, before realisation glinted in them as his mind registered the fact that he wasn't in or going to be in harm's way.

But then his eyes flicked to Tony, and then Wong, the both of them looming over him, and then to the kneeling teen in front of him. He then looked down at where his body had draped over the floor, limbs tangled in a complicated position, somehow being half on the floor and half on the couch. He winced silently, face reddening at his overall position. He stood up, tried not to be visibly disturbed by the black spots dancing in his vision, and straightened himself.

Stephen cleared his throat.

"Good morning sunshine," Tony said, and silently prided himself at the slight, fleeting smirk it received from Wong, "How was the floor?"

"Cold," Stephen replied bluntly, "Do not recommend, by the way. A zero out of ten," he shifted his feet, awkwardly flitting his eyes at the three of them. "So what brought you here, Peter?" He refused his mind's almost instinctual request to use the word love, the endearment burning at the tip of his tongue, "And you, Stark." Tony.

Wong saw the look Peter sent his way, the hesitant and silent request, and sighed. He said his excuses to Stephen, then made a portal to Kamar Taj to leave the three of them alone.

*.~ ◇ ~.*

Needless to say, Stephen had expected the both of them to ask about the slight slip he made the other day. He knew avoiding it would just be futile, especially with two stubborn heads involved, but that didn’t mean he was prepared for it.

"You told him?" Stephen asked, knowing it was inevitable in the beginning, but never been very sure of his judgement now compared to his past self. He’s learnt that many things could go in many ways, end up in many outcomes. He’s learnt since a very long time ago that Time was not to be trusted and Fate not to be believed in. He’s learnt since a very long time ago about the consequences of knowing and the reality of truth.

"Yeah, he did," Tony said, bringing his mind to the present, "Now tell us. What was it about?"

Stephen stared at them. The way they sat, the way they talked, their patterns… Every one of them were seared in his damned photographic memory of a mind, like an almost cursed blessing. He lifted his cup, tasting the warmth of the tea as it slid down his throat, the bittersweet scent of it. Stalling his time, he was sure it was obvious but didn’t seem to care, as he contemplated his answer to the question.

He breathed in.

He couldn't take it anymore. There were too many of them, too much of them playing like a broken tape in his head every day and every night, and he couldn't keep it in any longer. All of it has made his mind spill over like a leaking faucet, everything melding and mashing into a confused mess that has him struggling.

He knew the truth would set him free, but not until it was done with him.

He placed the cup gently back down on the table, and heard the clink of ceramic against oak.

"The timelines," he said, voice raw against his own volition, finally admitting, "I.. It was the timelines."

"Timelines," Tony repeated. "The 14 million…"

"Yes," he said. "In those timelines, we…” he was making a mistake, he knew it, but he couldn’t help it, not with them. Not with the two people he’s spent most of his life – the unreal and unlived part of his life, he reminded himself – with them. But still, he needed them to know. He needed them to see. He couldn’t bear lying anymore (because keeping the truth locked away still counted as lying, did it not?), and with them most especially.

He took in a breath that slightly stuttered, composing himself as he chose his next words carefully.

There was no going back now.

“We were… we were together, as… as a family, in a few of those timelines."

"A few?" Peter scooted to the edge of his seat.

Stephen gulped, eyes clenched shut, memories flashing beneath them. It began and it went, it started and it passed. Each flickering amongst the other, overlapping, fighting against the gates that guarded his sanity. Constantly shifting, constantly echoing, constantly breaking.

Each a lying truth, each a hopeless hope, each a fateless fate.

"A majority," he said, and tried to keep the flashing memories at bay.

"A family…" Tony silently said, a mere whisper, but hope burned at the edges of his words. "We were a family."

"We could've been." he said, and that was it, wasn't it? Could have, would have, should have.

"Peter, you, and I." Stephen stared at his hands, at the scars on them. On the way it trembled, the way it shook like those memories did. It was a part of him, the both of them. His hands, his mind, they were one.

"We could still be," Peter said, hopeful yet hesitant, tentative yet sure, and Stephen had to take a moment to process that.

He lifted his head towards the teen, saw the glint of faith, the promise of more. He's seen the same look on the mirror before, he thought, and something in him clicked at the way it reflected in the boy's eyes.

"Could we?" he whispered, afraid of his own voice, of his own words. Afraid of the hope he might've slipped into them, of the longing.

Tony stared at him, his expression soft and open. And the next words that slipped out of his mouth whispered of promise.

"We could try."

Flashes of red burned across his mind, the sound of a snap echoing across a battlefield. The sound of laughter played like a broken record in his ears, the memory of brown eyes under the sun, of bronze skin wrinkling from a smile, the tingle of nostalgia and the yearning of a life that never really existed clawing at his mind, at his chest, in him.

Try. Stephen Strange wasn't a man that believed in fate, but he believed in trying.

Hhhnnngggg not exactly proud of how this turned out and I dunno if I did your prompt justice but, I can’t seem to find the willingness to rewrite it. ^^’’ I would also feel bad to prolong my response to your prompt. I hope you enjoyed this, though?

Also on AO3

#ironstrange #fanfic #stephen strange #tony stark #peter parker #supreme family #my fic #my writing #prompt fill #ask #rikaraholic #winchesterstarkstrange

48 notes · View notes

fattybattysblog · 1 year

Text

Supervision

This is a one shot that I wrote as a request for my friend. Also fairly short. OFF the game, MxM, 2500 words

Summary:

The Elsen managing the cowsheds asks the Batter for help and decides the Batter is now his responsibility. Does "threatening to murder one's bad boss" count as flirting?

It was the day of inspection and Eli was panicking. Nothing was ready, nobody was meeting their quotas, and to top it all off there were ghosts in the cowshed. Of all days, today was the day ghosts infested the cowshed. He had put in requests to get them taken care of when they arrived like a good little worker, but his requests were ignored. They were always ignored. He began to feel like all requests in Zone 1 were ignored.

Eli hurried to the tram earlier than he would any other morning. It was full of Elsen quietly tucked into seats and hanging onto the poles while they made their way to work. He normally got out a little later when the tram was more empty and he had space to sit down, but he needed to get to Damien as soon as possible to prepare for the inspector’s arrival. He hung onto the pole in the tram and tried to stabilize himself as it sped on the rails to the next stop. He and many others jostled and bumped each other until the tram finally came to a stop.

A flood of Elsen spilled out and released Eli from the tram. They flowed to the several cowsheds to get to work without another moment lost. That eased some of Eli’s nerves. At least if they got right into the work they could cobble together enough metal to scratch the minimum. He went to the main office to grab his clipboard before making his rounds of Damien. Checking in on every cowshed, approving the batches of metal, making sure things moved relatively smoothly. It was a breath of fresh air. Nothing going crazy. No one Burnt.

Eli then faced the infested cowshed. He frowned and felt the sweat beginning to bead on his brow. He wasn’t sure how he was going to take care of the ghosts before the inspector showed up. There was no way he could exterminate them himself. He wasn’t a fighter. The mere anxiety of this issue was starting to make him weak in the knees and twist his stomach in knots. He simply stared at the shed for a while before hurrying back to the main office.

He had no idea what he was going to do. His poor stomach churned and hurt. He had to sit down just so it would hurt a little less.

Oh bugger… what could he possibly do.

Eli was about to step into the office when he heard the unmistakable sound of someone trudging through the smoke mine access nearby. He paused for a moment, confused. They were closed down recently due to specter activity. Ghosts don’t make noise when they walk around so that had to be a person. Eli approached the mine entrance nervously and squeaked in fear when someone popped out.

He carried a bat in one hand and dusted his pants off with the other. Stone faced and unafraid, he squinted at the light for just a moment before setting his sight on Eli, making him flinch. He approached with purpose, hoisting the bat onto his shoulder. Eli gulped and staggered back.

“Uh… W-who are you?” Eli squeaked.

“I’m the Batter.” He answered simply and offered no extra information. Straightforward, at least. Eli cleared his throat and adjusted his tie.

“What were you doing in the mines? I thought they were closed off?”

“There are ghosts in there. I am purifying them.”

Eli blinked. He wanted to question that, but the bat he carried kinda gave Eli the answer. It was covered in the semi-translucent goo of defeated specters. It was unnerving, but it gave Eli a brilliant idea.

“Oh… Oh! Wait, would you purify the cowshed?” Eli chimed, gesturing to the infested one nearby. Batter glanced at it but seemed unwilling to change his course.

“I have to purify the mines first.”

“Wh--- but…” Eli wilted a little, but he had too little time to let him go. He really needed the help, “well, the cowshed isn’t that big. There are only a couple specters in there and I really need it done before the inspector gets here.”

The Batter grimaced and Eli tucked his clipboard under one arm to clasp his hands together.

“P-please? It will take no time at all.”

“Okay.” He seemed not to care one way or the other, persuaded enough by Eli’s pleas to take a look at the cowshed. Eli silently cheered and showed Batter to the infested area, leaving him to do his work and resting against the shed wall to breath relief. A massive weight was taken off of his shoulders. Those few moments of relief, the couple light breaths that he hadn’t felt in so long were amazing.

Eli wanted to live in this moment forever.

Alas, he couldn’t. While Batter took care of the spectors, Eli had to prepare to greet the inspector when he arrived. That dropped sandbags back onto his shoulders that he simply shrugged into place and worked with. The inspector wasn’t set to arrive for another hour, which gave the Batter time to clear out the shed before he got there. Eli would just have to greet him and show him the other cowsheds first.

A tram arrived after about 35 minutes. No one had thought anything of it until the doors opened and out came the inspector. Dedan. A tall man with a maw of horribly gigantic teeth and small, burning, angry eyes.

Eli’s heart sank through the floor. He glanced back at the cowshed and saw no sign of the Batter. If Eli let a man die in there it would mean an even worse evaluation and, possibly, demotion. Eli was starting to feel sick again.

“Well? Are you going to do your job or just stand there?” Dedan huffed. Eli flinched and scrambled to get his bearings, leading Dedan through Damien in a counterclockwise circle. That grated on Dedan and he let Eli know it.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? This is unacceptable.” He growled.

“W-what--- uh… what do you mean?” Eli stammered, trying not to call attention to the difference.

“Do you think I’m stupid? Never once has the inspection worked like this. What makes you think you can do this?” Dedan’s teeth gnashed and he turned face to go the “correct way” around Damien, setting his sights immediately on the infested shed. Eli panicked and ran in front of Dedan.

“There’s ghosts in that shed!” He shouted, stopping Dedan in his tracks and getting the dirtiest glare.

“And why wasn’t I informed?”

“Well… we sent in the requests like we were supposed to and you never-”

“DO YOU THINK BLAMING ME WILL FIX IT?!”

“No! No, no, but it wasn’t--- T-that doesn’t matter now because it’s getting taken care of! The Batter showed up and he’s purifying the cowshed, he should be done soon.” Eli explained, hoping that would appease the very angry man. It didn’t seem to help. In fact, Dedan seemed to be even angrier. If that was even possible. He stormed past Eli to the shed. Eli ran after him and prayed that this wouldn’t somehow kill him.

“How long has he been in there?” Dedan demanded. Eli checked his watch and cleared his throat, trying to stay calm and failing. The sweat was pouring down his face and getting into his eyes, making it hard to read his watch.

“O-only half an hour.”

“What makes you think he can take care of the ghosts?”

“He was killing the ones in the mine an-”

“This man is making a fool of you. Are you fucking dense? No one can kill the ghosts but the Queen and her officers. Is he the Queen?”

“N-n-no…”

“Is he an officer?”

“Not that I kn-”

“You’re an idiot. An absolute imbecile. I could have taken care of the ghosts.”

“Then wh-”

“Because you don’t deserve it. Take care of your own problems,” Dedan huffed heavily and turned to leave, finding Eli in the way and refusing to change his course. He glared down at the little Elsen and tightened his jaw. “Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

Eli tripped over himself to get out of the way, watching after Dedan as he stomped away back to the tram and home to Alma. Eli heaved a massive sigh, pulling on his tie and wiping all the sweat off his head. He felt like he was going to collapse.

“Who was that?”

Eli nearly fainted out of fear. He snapped his head towards the voice beside him and sighed when he saw Batter. Batter was intimidating, but at least he didn’t demand perfection out of Eli. It was much more casual talking to him and that felt much nicer.

“Oh… That was the inspector.” Eli murmured.

“You mean specter?” Batter asked in his unnerving monotone. Eli did a double take and knit his brows tightly.

“What? No,” he shook his head, “Dedan can’t be a specter, the Queen would never have appointed him her officer if he was.”

“But he’s evil.”

“Well… I don’t know if I’d call him evil.” Eli muttered a little under his breath.

“I must purify him.” Batter stated, dropping his bat into his hand with a dull, metallic thud. Eli stared at him. Was this man really considering murder right now? He wasn’t sure what to make of that. He looked down at his feet.

Was Batter… flirting with him?

~~~

Eli couldn’t let the Batter leave without supervision. His mention of purifying people was very uncomfortable and Eli couldn’t let that happen. He would feel responsible. So he followed close behind the Batter as he worked his way through the mines. He defeated the specters without second thoughts. His bat swung swift, the ectoplasm bursting on impact and coating the walls and weapon.

There was a moment of calm between all the ghost bashing wherein Batter seemed to be waiting for more to show up. When nothing more appeared, he turned to leave. Eli assumed that meant the mines were purified.

“Why are you following me?” Batter asked as he stepped past Eli and dragged the bat behind him.

“I… Well…” Eli tapped his fingers together, “I need to make sure you don’t hurt people.”

“I won’t hurt people. I only purify specters.” Batter said simply.

“You say that, but you did threaten Dedan.”

“He is evil. He must be purified.”

Eli whined and pocketed his hands, bunching his shoulders.He didn’t think he’d be able to convince the Batter otherwise. That and… well he was a very dangerous man. He can kill ghosts. Even if he couldn’t kill ghosts, a bat can absolutely kill people. All it takes is a moment of anger to turn that on a living person. Batter appeared to be level headed enough to not do that, but he was a stranger with an unknown temper. Eli just wanted to do his job, but there wouldn’t be a job to do if something happened to the inspector.

As Batter continued on, Eli nervously followed behind him, looking at his feet. He wondered why the Batter was so intent on hurting Dedan. It made sense to be dedicated to one’s work, that was something Eli knew. He was very dedicated to his work. That might be his downfall, though. If he weren’t dedicated, he would still be in Damien letting whatever might happen happen.

Eli was worried about the Batter as much as he was worried about Dedan. He also didn't know how to respond to the flirting earlier if that even was flirting. Eli hadn't really been flirted with before so he wasn't sure how to do it back or anything.

Another encounter with some ghosts came and went with the splatter of ectoplasm on the mine walls. He was dangerous and stoic and he rarely spoke. Batter didn't appear too attached to anything but his mission. Maybe Eli was mistaken and Batter was simply too adamant about violence. Anything was possible.

“U-uhm… do you ever take a break?” Eli asked. Batter looked over his shoulder and paused. He curled his mouth from one side to the next as he thought about it.

“No.” He answered finally. Eli nodded and walked ahead of Batter, gesturing for him to follow. Batter shrugged and followed him to one of the far walls of the mine. It appeared to be a dead end, but Eli pulled on one of the torches and a door opened in the wall. The Batter made a small noise of amusement which was the most emotion he had shown the entire time they walked together. It made Eli’s heart soar to get that much out of him.

Inside this secret room was a break room for the miners. Luckily, it was empty at this moment and left just for them. Eli went to the vending machine and got some refreshments for them both as Batter took a seat at one of the tables. He was surprised how much his legs and arms ached from his nonstop ghost busting. He rolled his neck and stretched his arms, making many joints pop.

Eli dropped into the seat next to him and handed him a bag of snacks and a canned drink. Batter muttered a thanks and looked at them funny before trying them out.

“S-so… you are pretty good at killing ghosts.” Eli said, nervously fiddling with the tab on his can. His cheeks were dusted in blush as he tried his hand at returning Batter’s interest. Batter didn’t look at him, instead reading the posters on the walls.

“Thanks.”

“D-do, uh… do you visit Zone 1 often?” He asked, tugging on his shirt collar.

“This is my first time visiting.”

“Ah! Then I should show you around, right?” Eli grew excited to have a task he could accomplish. Batter shook his head and rested his bat on the table beside theirs. A little company might be nice, but Eli couldn’t protect himself which made it less ideal. Batter wouldn’t let Eli get hurt trying to keep up with him.

“That’s not necessary.” He said. He seemed unaware that those thoughts didn’t come across in his answer. Eli wilted and looked aside, fidgeting with his tie.

“N-never mind then…”

The Batter noticed that his answer made Eli a little upset. He glanced away and cleared his throat. He tried to get the thought across a little better, but he needed to think of what to say.

“I could stick around a little longer.” He muttered. Words weren’t his forte.

“That would be really nice.” Eli smiled, brightening. Batter liked it when Eli was so happy. He wasn’t sure why though. Maybe he would figure out why making this Elsen so happy made him feel good or why having him around was something he enjoyed, but he did. So a little longer in Zone 1 wasn’t a big deal. And Eli could keep Dedan alive for a bit too. Not that he really cared. Spending time with Batter was too nice to care what happened afterwards.

#OFF game #off mortis ghost #mxm #battyfics #batter x elsen #the batter #off elsen #short story #oneshot #fanfic

1 note · View note

writerpeach · 2 years

Text

Honey, This Car Isn't Big Enough for the Two Of Us

IZ*ONE Hyewon x Male Reader

length - 6849 words

categories - smut, hate/angry sex, public sex

Thanks to @gammasnippets for jump starting this idea.

Read on AO3

Sun shined through the trees, the perfect breeze coming through rolled down windows, with music blaring through the car speakers. With no destination in mind, it was necessary enjoyment of your day off, breathing in the refreshing air that flowed through your hair. The perfect start to a relaxing afternoon.

Or so you thought.

“Yah! Learn to drive!”

In a blink of an eye, a deafening thud came from the passenger side that stopped you in your tracks—literally, car tires squealed to a halt, as you frantically tried to keep it under control.

Quite an unwarranted start to the afternoon. With your heart racing a million miles a minute, the car came to a halt. The crunch of metal still rang in your ears when you exited, dusted yourself off, and rubbed the back of your neck.

“Hey idiot! Why’d you stop in the middle of the road!?”

Such a boisterous voice could only belong to the terrible driver who just ruined your day and didn’t know the first thing about the right of way.

“You just crashed into me because you weren’t paying attention!”

The young woman stared daggers and folded her arms. “There wasn’t anybody coming when I turned. You just appeared out of nowhere, dumbass!” she scoffed.

“Dumbass? Maybe if you would look where you were going, you wouldn’t have hit me! Did you get your license out of a cereal box?” You could tell this wouldn’t be a courteous discussion, and she only grew more infuriated.

“Just because you think your shitty sports car makes up for your small dick doesn’t give you the right to drive like an old man!”

This time, you held your tongue and wished she did the same.

“What’s the matter, grandpa? Hit a nerve? I hope you have insurance! My car is ruined!”

Dealing with someone so belligerent was not on your list of things to do today. You just wanted to get this situation over with. None of this would happen if she kept her eyes on the damn road, and she should have been offering apologies, not insults. It unleashed your own temper.

“I’m sure you can pay for the repairs, just like you paid for those fake tits.”

She wasn’t expecting that. Hands by her side balled up into fists, and every word that escaped your mouth stoked the fire in her eyes.

"Listen here, you little shit! How dare you!"

The raven-haired woman rushed towards you like a raging bull that had just spotted the color red. Genuinely, you didn't think she would actually do anything, but a careless temper was a dangerous thing.

All it took was a simple sidestep to avoid it. Her own momentum betrayed her, and she fell face first into your car. It seemed those flotation devices at the front of her chest did little to soften the blow.

Still, as much of an annoyance as she was, it was hard not to feel bad for her. “Are you okay?”

The woman was stunned, eyebrows raised, placing a hand over her mouth as she checked her face in the reflection and looked for signs of bleeding. Thankfully, she was relatively unscathed. But the damage to her bruised ego, however, couldn’t be repaired easily.

“N-no! You hit me, I’m suing!”

Now she was being ridiculous. “Suing? I didn’t do a damn thing. You tried to strike me, so I moved out of the way. What happened was entirely your fault. Just like when you just plowed my car.”

Unsurprisingly, she didn’t agree, and you unlocked another level of anger. “I only tried to hit you because you insulted my breasts! I’ll have you know they’re all natural!”

That was a pretty poor excuse to assault someone, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at such an absurd statement. She looked like she would scream at any moment. “Fine, I won’t sue you. Just give me five-hundred dollars and we can be done with this mess.”

No chance in hell. “Why would I give someone who hit my car money? I think you must have hit your head too hard, so I'll call an ambulance.”

“Don’t you dare! I’ll call the police so they can arrest you!”

This stalemate was getting nowhere, it was just getting—staler. You had better things to do than argue with a hysterical stranger, and it was nothing but a he said, she said situation, with no witnesses, evidence, or real purpose. It was giving you a headache, and the woman in white wouldn’t back down. “Listen, let’s both calm down. How about a name?” you offered, trying small talk as a peace offering.

“Why should I tell you that? You’re probably a creep!”

“I’m not a creep. If you’ll stop throwing a fit, we can discuss this like adults—”

“Throwing a fit?” She repeated, fists still by her side, until she slammed her fist into the door of your car. “I’ll show you throwing a fit!”

“Don’t fucking touch my car!”

“Fuck your stupid car! It’s ugly, just like you!” She wound up and punched the door one more time, putting all her rage into her swing—but before she could repeat it, you seized her wrists away from her body.

“What are you doing? Take your hands off me! I knew you were a creep!”

“I’m not a creep! I just don’t want you to keep denting my car. So I’m politely asking you to stop.”

You hated this woman’s attitude. She was snobby, rude, and thought the entire world revolved around her, but damn, she was irritatingly attractive. The distance was close enough that you could smell her sweet perfume, and those breasts—fake or not, you couldn’t stop staring.

And she could tell from a mile away. “Now you’re staring at my tits? Pervert!” she spat, and slapped your cheek. Her palm barely grazed your cheek, but you acted out the pain and pretended to rub the sting.

“It’s hard not to stare when those plastic funbags are practically bursting out of your shirt.”

“So you're admitting you’re staring! Fucking creep!” Again, she slapped you harder on the other cheek. So easily she fell into your trap.

If she wanted to play dirty, then there was no reason you couldn’t retaliate. “I believe that’s assault. If you’ll excuse me, I need to call the police.”

“W-wait, no! You can’t do that!” The panic on her face was clearer than her pristine skin.

“Why not? You hit me twice. For no good reason, I may add.” You couldn’t hide the smirk that appeared across your face as you grabbed your phone out of your pocket and played her like a fiddle when you pretended to dial it.

“Wait, please!” Such a petulant woman was as whiny as she was hot. It was a shame the pretty face she had was wasted on her.

“Why shouldn’t I report you? Give me one good reason.”

“P-please, I—” Suddenly, tears started rolling down her eyes. Crocodile tears, no doubt, but nonetheless, they had an impact.

She wiped her eyes and sniffled with much exaggeration. “Give me your phone.”

“What? Absolutely not. You’ll break it. Or worse.”

“I w-won’t, I promise. Please,” she pleaded. You couldn’t trust her, but it was hard to ignore a crying woman. Even if she was the literal devil.

Regret was the first thing on your mind when you handed her your unlocked phone. She tilted your phone horizontally, aimed it at her voluptuous chest, and took a handful of pictures before she returned it.

Bribery was the last thing you expected. “What am I supposed to do with these?” you asked, scrolling through multiple copies of the same picture. “You wouldn’t even give me your name because I’m a creep and now you take these for me?”

“It’s Hyewon. And I don’t know, you wanted to look at them so much, now you have all the time in the world. Jerk off to them, for all I care, you pervert!”

It’s not like you wouldn’t enjoy looking at them, but it’s also not like you needed zoomed in pictures of a stranger’s chest.

“Now you won’t report me, right?” Hyewon asked between sniffled words.

What an absurd and odd gesture. “Am I supposed to forget everything just because you gave me a boring shot of those silicone sweater puppies?”

“They’re not fake, asshole! What else do you want from me?”

“You hit my car, and you hit me. I should just take you to court.”

“N-no, don’t! Please, I’m sorry!” It was a little late for apologies, but you had a better idea. You hesitated before choosing your next words.

“Okay. We’ll make this easy. I’ll forget everything that happened in the past hour. Just prove it.”

“Prove it? Prove what?”

“Prove those huge milk bags are all-natural and not artificial.”

Hyewon looked back, her nose wrinkled, eyes narrowed, and her brow furrowed. “You can’t be—I’m not showing you my tits, you pathetic creep!”

“Then I guess I’ll see you in court. With any luck, you’ll get your license suspended.”

“What the fuck!? You wouldn’t!” she said as she stomped her feet.

It was like talking to a child at this point. “You’re right, I wouldn’t. If you weren’t such a bitch to me this whole time.”

“Fuck you, take me to court. I don’t care, I’ll win.”

“It’d be pretty hard to win when I have footage of you ramming directly into me.”

“What? How? There’s no evidence. You’re lying.”

“Am I? Is that why there’s a camera on my dashboard?”

Hyewon looked through one of the car windows to confirm it and spotted the camera sticking out. She knew she was defeated.

“You sneaky little fuck. Fine, I’ll give you a quick peek, and then this’ll be over?”

“A quick peek? No deal. Thirty seconds, at least.”

“Are you fucking kidding? You’re such a loser, but if that’s what it takes, then that’s it. Not a second longer.”

“Then I believe we have a deal, Miss Hyewon,” you said, and extended your hand. She reluctantly shook it, but not without rolling her eyes.

“Fine, deal. Now, where do I do this? I’m not showing you my tits in the middle of the street.”

“My car has tinted windows. The backseat should be the perfect place.”

Hyewon stalled, but there wouldn’t be a better option unless she left the scene of the collision.“Okay, whatever. Let’s get this over with. But don’t try anything funny, you weirdo.”

“I would never. Pinky promise.” With a wicked smile on your face, you opened the door to your car, not forgetting about the dent on it, and gestured Hyewon in. “Ladies, first.”

“Such a fucking gentleman, aren’t you?” she sarcastically said, headed in, and took a seat behind the passenger's side. You followed her in and planted yourself in the middle, then slapped your thigh to offer her a better seat.

“How about you sit on my lap, sweetie? Wanna get the best view I possibly can.”

Hyewon glared, and showed no initial interest, but had no intention of challenging the gesture—she just wanted to be done with this. Hyewon swung her body over and straddled your lap. It was difficult for her to avoid eye contact, so locked into your view there with no real alternative to focus her attention.

“Thirty seconds, that’s it.” Hyewon grasped the zipper to her white top and dragged it down enough to expose her cleavage. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

You couldn’t either. Underneath was a standard black bra that struggled to cover up her shapely large breasts, but did its job in drawing your eyes to them. If she looked this good with just her top loosened, you could only imagine the rest of her.

“Do your panties match this cute bra? Those tits are so huge they’re about to pop out.”

Hyewon couldn’t look more annoyed, like it was her default state. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Maybe I’ve got on a skimpy little thong that barely covers my ass. Or maybe I’m not wearing panties at all.”

Your imagination went wild. Between your legs, your cock twitched at the thought of Hyewon’s perfect body bent over, and seeing her bare cunt with nothing getting in the way.

“Too bad you’ll never find out, asshole. You only get to see my tits, nothing else.” Venom laced her words, and you couldn’t exactly fault her when you were taking advantage of her.

“I can feel your boner. Isn’t it a little pathetic that you’re hard already?”

“It’s a natural reaction, you can’t blame me.”

“But I can blame you for being a blackmailing douchebag!”

“Blackmailed? Please, I’m hurt by that. But maybe after you fulfill your end of the deal, I’ll let you see what I’m packing.”

“Ew, no. I don’t want to see your shriveled little dick. I know you’ve got nothing but a tube sock stuffed down your pants.”

You chuckled. “Not like you could handle a big cock in that loose little cunt of yours.”

“Fuck you, I bet you’ve never made a woman cum. Even if you are as big as claim, you’re probably a fucking virgin. “

“Oh, shut the hell up and unleash those tits. Your cheap perfume is making my car smell.”

“That’s just the smell of you not showering in a week. I can’t wait until I never have to see your disgusting face ever again.”

The constant bickering was exhausting, but if you got to see those alleged real breasts, it would be worth the trouble. With much urgency, Hyewon reached behind her, unclipped her bra, and pulled it down enough to release her sizable breasts, bouncing deliciously when freed.

“Time starts now, asshole. And try not to drool on me.” If there were any god in the world that existed, you’d pray to find a way to stop time.

Because they were irrefutably the most perfect set of breasts you’d ever laid your eyes on. The entire time your mouth was slack jawed, and you desperately needed the mental image of Hyewon’s huge mounds burned into your brain.

You just stared in a trance at the supple flesh of Hyewon’s chest, foaming at the mouth, desperate to taste her gorgeous swollen nipples. No time to even blink, too laser-focused to memorize every curve, every slope, and minute detail until it overloaded your brain.

But then the obstructive beep of time ending just had to ruin the party.

“Hope you enjoyed it, pervert.” Hyewon let out a smug smile as she placed her breasts back in her bra. Your disappointment was immeasurable. “There, we’re done here. Now you can admit they’re real. Now, where’s my apology?”

“They’re not bad, I guess. I’ve seen better.”

“Not bad? Fuck off, this is the best part of tits you’ve ever seen.”

She wasn’t wrong, but—you still had your doubts. “I can’t exactly tell they’re real just by looking at them, can I?”

“What? Of course you can. Fake boobs are so gross and obvious!”

“That might have been true in the past, but plastic surgery has gotten so much better these days. There’s really only one way to find out if our spoiled princess has gotten any work done.”

“What?”

“Do I really have to spell it out?”

“Well, obviously. Since I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“I believe a closer inspection is in order. Then you can be on your way, and we’ll be out of each other’s lives forever.”

Hyewon put the pieces together. “What? No fucking way.”

“If they’re real, then shouldn’t you be proud of them? And what better way to prove they’re real than to let someone feel them up?”

“Fuck off, let me out of this piece of shit car.”

“Okay, then our deal is off.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Are you going to cry again?”

“Go fuck yourself, asshole!”

“But it’d be much better if I could fuck you, Hyewon.”

“Not a fucking chance. Not like you could ever satisfy me in your wildest dreams.”

“Oh, I don’t think it would be that hard. Your panties are probably wet just thinking about my big cock stretching you out. Maybe you’re the virgin who’s never had a cock inside her.”

“T-that’s not true. I’ve had plenty of dicks inside of me. Even multiple at once!”

“Sure you have. I bet they had just as much silicone as that chest of yours.”

“God, I hate you!”

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual. If only you’d admit you rammed my car, and apologized, this never would have spiraled out of control like this. Now get off me and get the fuck out of my car. I’ll go take my chances with the police.”

“Fine! You don’t believe me? Squeeze these amazing tits, because you’ll never get to be with a woman like me in your life ever, you bastard!”

All part of the plan. Hopefully, one you wouldn’t come to regret, one that lit a fire inside her, one that couldn’t be extinguished with an entire firefighter squad. In a fit of rage, Hyewon ripped her bra off, bared her breasts once more and grabbed your hands, abruptly placing them on her chest.

“Feel them, you sicko! See how fucking soft they are? No shitty fake boobs feel like these. Go ahead, squeeze them, you pervert!” The seething rage in Hyewon’s eyes made it even more arousing, and it was a moment that you hoped lasted much longer than thirty seconds.

Not hesitating, you squeezed her pillowy soft large breasts, and felt the glory of them in between your fingertips, like nothing had been in your hands before. Hyewon was driving you crazy. Hands full of her tits, you cupped them and gave a firm squeeze, savoring the warmth that radiated from the heavenly flesh you played with, delighted with how perfect they felt. Taut nipples hardened against your palm, and you used your thumbs to tease them, earning an unexpected moan.

“H-hey, I didn’t say you could do that…”

“What’s the matter? Afraid you’ll cream your panties? I’ll stop then.”

"No, don't!" Hyewon desperately said. It was a sudden reversal of her character—just the littlest touch of your hands grazing her sensitive nipples, and it was like she became a decent human.

“They feel—they feel so good.” It was regrettable that you couldn’t say anything more profound about them, but who could blame you when your mind turned to mush. “I was wrong. They’re definitely real.”

Hyewon smiled for the first time. ”I told you, idiot.“ When she wasn’t yelling obscenities at you, she was downright ethereal, her striking beauty second to none. It made playing with Hyewon’s huge breasts more satisfying, kneading them to your heart’s content.

“Okay, hands off.” Hyewon abruptly pushed your hands off her chest faster than she yanked them. You could deal with her mood swings, but the fun was over—maybe you had been too greedy.

"Stopping me before you get too wet?"

“"Hmph. I-I’m not wet! I’m dry as a desert right now.”

“You’re a bad liar, Hyewon. I can see the arousal in those eyes.”

“You’re seeing what you want to see. I’m not even a little turned on by you.”

Another lie. Hyewon would make a terrible poker player. “You liked when I played with your cute little nipples, didn’t you? It was only for a few seconds, but I’m sure it made you dripping.”

Hyewon desperately avoided eye contact. “We both know you moaned. But I get it. You think I’m an asshole, so you’d rather just go home and shove a dildo up your cunt for the 400th time.”

“Do you ever shut up? I don’t even use toys, I prefer the real thing. And I’ve taken bigger cocks than you could only imagine,”Hyewon snapped, returning to the fiery woman you met at the first rude introduction.

“Do they have names? Or do you just remember the brands?”

“Ugh, you really are an asshole. I just fucked someone yesterday!”

“Lying again. You really are predictable, Hyewon.”

“I’m not lying! I get more dick than I know what to do with.”

"That's because you’re inexperienced. That annoying mouth of yours can't take more than a few inches down your throat."

"Oh, whatever. You're just used to women pretending to be satisfied with the disappointment between your legs. There’s no way you’ve got anything past four inches hiding in those pants.”

“Call my bluff then. If I’m lying, then I’ll pay your five-hundred dollars you wanted. I’ll even double it.“

The idea revolted Hyewon, but yet—she couldn’t back down. “Fine. Whip it out. I could use some new outfits.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the thrift store loves your business.”

“Fuck off!”

“Care to do the honors?”

“Sure, why not? That way, I can see what a letdown looks like up close and personal.”

“Be careful. I wouldn't want it to smack you in the face.”

Hyewon grew silent, and only flashed a twisted look of disgust on her face as she unbuttoned your pants. “This is going to be embarrassing to see how small you are. It’s too bad I left my magnifying glass at home.”

You wasted no energy on a retort, knowing Hyewon would soon eat her words. She gave enough room for you to lift your hips, then yanked your pants down, just enough to expose your boxers and the frustrating bulge that had been patiently waiting.

“No fucking way...” Hyewon couldn’t hide the shock and awe on her face. Immediately, she inspected your crotch, and her hands everywhere like she was desperately trying to find a foreign object tucked away.

She really couldn’t believe it. Hyewon hated the taste of defeat. Meanwhile, you couldn’t help from letting out a wry smile as you claimed victory. But Hyewon paused—completely dumbfounded, and still thought there had to be some other explanation.

Hyewon couldn’t ignore the outcome forever, so eventually, she pulled the trigger with bated breath, and reached inside your boxers to pull out your stiff cock. Hyewon tried to hide her gasp—but lust consumed her, and she couldn’t look away from your length, eyes widening with her mouth gaped in surprise.

“How is it so fucking big?” she whispered, as her voice strained, eyes widened in astonishment.

“Luck and genetics. Don’t drool over it too much.”

For the first time since you encountered each other, Hyewon was speechless. For the first time, she didn’t care that she was wrong. Her eyes just hungrily stared at your unsheathed length.

“Feel free to apologize. It’s okay to admit you were wrong.”

“Apologize? Please, it’s not even that big. I can handle much bigger ones.”

It was amusing how Hyewon never surrendered. The persistence was respectable, but you wanted her to put her money where her mouth was—it was time to shut her up.

“Look in my eyes and say that, then.”

“What?”

“You heard me, princess. Look at me and tell me you can handle a cock—any cock that’s as big as mine.”

“I don’t have to do anything you tell me, asshole. I’m leaving this shitbox.”

You chuckled at her defiance. “Thought so. Hyewon’s little pussy is afraid of taking a cock this huge? And here I thought you were a size queen, but you’re just a scared puppy afraid to approach a bigger dog.”

“What the fuck?!” Hyewon spouted. She unleashed her full fury and frustration, and struck her palm across your cheek. The harsh sting only kept the smile on your face.

“Call the police for that one, you little bitch! I don’t care anymore!”

“Oh, don’t worry. That one barely hurt.”

It was too easy to rile Hyewon up. “Ugh! Perverts like you probably like being slapped by a woman!”

“You're damn right. I love a woman that can kick my ass. But that’s not you.”

“Fucking asshole!”

Hyewon attempted another slap, but you blocked it by grabbing her wrist. Once more, she tried again with the opposite hand, living up to her predictable nature when you hindered both her arms and gazed intently into her murderous eyes.

“Get your hands off me, creep!”

“Or what? You’ll cry again? It’s a good thing you’re not wearing a skirt, or you’d be gushing all over my backseat.”

“Like anything you could do would make my pussy wet!”

The squabbling never ended. Like two dueling rams fighting head-to-head, it was a constant battle with no one to separate them. And somehow, even though Hyewon was topless, and your pants were down to your ankles, it still became a war of attrition to see who hated each other the most.

With every pile of insults, you moved closer to Hyewon’s face, until you were nose to nose, glaring into her beady eyes, and waited for the first person to blink. It was so close you could hear each other’s heart beating. Adrenaline pumped through your veins, although you were positive only ice flowed through Hyewon.

It was the final straw—through angry stares, and heavy breathing, the flood of emotions found its peak, as you grabbed Hyewon’s face and your lips crashed together, like the ignition of a newly formed supernova. You couldn’t deny the attraction.

Unsurprisingly, Hyewon matched your aggressiveness, igniting the lust of your entangled lips. But even this was a competition—your tongue invaded her mouth, trying to keep up the upper hand. She moaned into your mouth, and your tongues dueled, neither side backing down as saliva swapped as you fought back and forth for control. Hyewon’s slender fingers roamed through your hair, tugging and pulling, before nails dug into your skull, the mixture of pain and pleasure oddly satisfying.

That was all it took to douse the flames of hatred. Momentarily, at least. The kiss broke, but not without one more battle for dominance, with you coming out on top when you bit on her lower lip, almost hoping to draw blood.

“You taste good for such a stubborn bitch.”

“And you’re not a bad kisser for someone who’s an uptight asshole.”

The dam of desire broke, fully shattered, with no chance of repair, and there was no going back. "Fuck me,” Hyewon demanded, gasping for air as she fixed strands of dark, messy from her forehead.

“Why should I?”

“Because you made me wet, asshole. Now it’s your job to do something about it.”

“It’s not my job to get you off. But maybe I’ll feel some pity for how easy it was to make your cunt drip.”

“Get over yourself. Just shut up and I’ll show just how well I can handle your cock. It’s the only good thing about you.”

“Beg for it then. Beg me to ride this fucking cock.”

Hyewon rolled her eyes. “Fuck you. I don’t beg. Especially not for losers desperate for pussy.”

“Desperate? I don’t need your pussy. You’re just easy access right now. So hop on this dick, but try not to cream all over me before I’m even balls deep inside you.”

“And you better not explode once you feel how tight I am.”

“I just hope you’re prepared to pay to get my car cleaned when you make a mess all over my back seat.”

Hyewon ignored your taunting words, a powerless scowl forming on her beautiful feminine features. Impatiently you waited, and watched her undress as she removed her pants and the light colored pink panties she had on, prominently stained with arousal and nearly toppled over.

“Careful.” You held her hips to steady her, fingertips grazing over her ridiculously soft skin.

“I’m fine,” she reassured, in a surprisingly polite tone. It was the first interaction between you that ended up civil. Faster than you could blink, Hyewon’s lower half was prominently nude when she straddled you, entrancing your eyes with the curves of her body, and her delicious bare pussy. She gripped your cock forcefully and squeezed it, noting the precum dripping from your needy slit, and carefully lined it up between her spread legs.

“Fuck, you’re so hot, Hyewon.” It was surprising words that slipped out of your mouth, and left you unsure if you mouthed them, betraying you in a rare moment of weakness. It's not like you didn't mean it—with the way her curvy hips stood out, and her heavenly breasts displayed for your needy eyes.

“I know,” she breathed. It was her only response, with no more words wasted. Sharing your eagerness, Hyewon used your cock to part her folds, and rubbed your swollen tip against the warm slickness, previewing what was in store. One held breath later, and Hyewon sank down on your shaft, mirroring a strong gasp from your lips upon entering her pussy.

Hyewon’s inviting warmth was everything you needed. All the bickering, mudslinging, and anger would be worth it if this was what the outcome ended up as. It was a series of movements that both felt too slow and too fast, as Hyewon hardly moved her hips, easing herself further down your cock.

But it wouldn’t do—if she was insistent on being able to handle your cock, then she would have to prove it. One look into her softened eyes, while both hands harshly squeezed her ass, and you slammed into her warm, satisfying cunt with one stroke and filled her to the hilt.

“W-wait, holy shit!”

Hyewon almost screamed, her eyes bulging in surprise, and her slick pussy lips hugging your shaft tightly. “What’s the matter? Didn’t you say you could take this?”

“Y-yes, but—don’t you know how to be gentle? You’re so fucking big!”

“Aw, afraid I’ll break you? Where’s that confidence that you were going to show me? Not used to such an enormous real cock splitting your tiny little pussy open?”

“Sh-shut up! I just need a second.” Hyewon was clearly overwhelmed, and it put a smile on your face.

“My cock isn’t going to wait all day. If you can’t take it, then I’ll just pull out. You can get home and get off with your fingers.”

“N-no, don’t!”

“Or what? You said you won’t beg, but one little thrust and you’re already dying for more? Maybe you should get laid more often.”

Hyewon was too easy to shape like putty, to influence—she knew you had her like a puppet in the palm of your hand. “I get laid plenty! Just—just let me do the work. For now.” She was doing a poor job of not sounding like begging.

“Be my guest.” Flushed red cheeks on Hyewon showed how embarrassed she was when clenched around your cock, before you even moved a muscle yet. Clearly, it had been a while since anything had been inside her, real or fake, and it took substantial effort for her to get going. When she finally moved her hips back and forth, softly moaning, the feeling of being inside her was absolutely divine, something you’d never forget.

But Hyewon wasn’t living up to her words. If she wanted a challenge, then she was failing it miserably with her pitiful rhythm.

“Come on, Hyewon. That’s all you’ve got?”

You didn’t wait for her to respond and began controlling the pace, ramming into her wet cunt with rapid thrusts, with no care for her comfort. Hyewon’s moans grew noisier, and forced to adjust to being stretched so wide, her tight warm cunt being molded to the shape of your cock.

“That’s much better. Take that fucking cock!”

“Oh my god, fuck!” Hyewon cried out, and eventually put her own effort into riding you. Her creamy thighs crashed against your own, and she bounced on your cock, matching your rhythm, while her supple breasts jiggled hypnotically. You leaned forward and captured one of her breasts, suckling harshly, grazing your teeth against the sensitive nipple, savoring the taste.

“Not so small, now is it? You enjoy riding me?”

“Y-yes! God, I love it, I love your dumb big cock!”

Hyewon grew more needy, more desperate, more powerless, as she rode your cock, and you reached depths of her cunt that didn’t seem possible. In the heat of the moment, you had a thirst for revenge, and after a harsh squeeze of her breasts, you slapped one of them, just to watch it ripple.

“Hey, that hurts! They’re sensitive!”

"Good," you muttered, and tweaked her nipples, pinching and tugging them in different directions, before delivering another echoing slap, followed by another, until continuous slaps on both heavy breasts reddened the pale flesh.

“Asshole!”

“Maybe, but you didn’t say stop, did you? No, you just let me slap those big fucking tits like the needy little whore you are. You may be a shit liar, but your pussy tells me you love it.”

“I’m not needy! Or a whore!”

“Bullshit, you’re both. There’s no denying it. Now shut the fuck up and talk with your hips.”

Hyewon tried one more objection, but meaningless words became whimpers, and her lustful moans filled the small space of the backseat. She relinquished control when you grabbed her hips and impaled her greedy cunt, driving yourself deep with frantic thrusts that made her scream with delight.

No longer did you keep up a facade of being gentle—Hyewon’s messy juices covered your shaft while you plunged into Hyewon’s intoxicating heat, fueled by the hedonistic urges to put her in her place. You wanted to stretch her to the limit and absolutely destroy her wet cunt.

And she had no objections about it. The look of total ecstasy on her features warranted the harsh motions of your hips, and you were content to keep this pace up, pumping into her warm hole like she was nothing but a mere toy. Hyewon enjoyed it, even if you could never get it out of her lips.

“Hyewon—”

“What—what is it?” she asked, barely able to look in your direction, or even think straight. Too dazed by pleasure, it made her delirious.

“Are you going to cum soon? I don’t have all day.”

“Yes! I’m almost there, just need—”

Hyewon’s voice faltered, unlike the hammering thrusts balls deep into her drenched pussy that desperately awaited release. Her clit throbbed, fluttering walls suffocating your cock as her muscles tensed up, and her stomach tightened. Hyewon couldn’t control what was about to happen, and before she could mutter a warning, a notable gush of colorless liquid squirted from between her thighs that violently forced your cock out of her.

“H-holy fuck. Oh my god, I love your fucking cock…”

Hyewon was overcome with a thousand different sensations flooding her body. Her thighs quivered wildly as the rest of her body convulsed, still coming down from the overwhelming orgasm that made her almost collapse. You didn’t even care that she had made a huge mess in your car. Hyewon had lost any amount of decorum, and just that put an unerasable smile on your face.

“Put it back in me and fill me up!”

Hyewon was close to tears from the intensity of her climax, but it showed no signs of settling down. Sensitivity was at maximum levels, yet Hyewon wanted more, starved for cock to fill her back up again. She felt deprived every second it wasn’t impaling her, an insatiable hunger that couldn’t be chased away.

With her body still trembling from the aftershocks, Hyewon snatched your cock, slamming her whole body down to swallow it up into her warm hole, which was soaked alongside her creamy thighs stained with her essence.

“Oh my god, I’ve missed this cock.” It had been a minute at most, but Hyewon suddenly found herself addicted to it, having withdrawals already.

“You are needy.”

“So what if I am, asshole! I need you to cum inside me, I need my little pussy filled, please! I can’t take it anymore. I want to feel it dripping out of me, need it so fucking badly, please, I need you to finish in my pussy right now!”

You didn’t know what came over Hyewon, but she no longer felt anger for anything, no longer felt wronged, and only had one wish,just to drain your balls inside her. It was funny what an orgasm did to change someone, like she was a completely different person.

“Make me cum, then. Ride my cock until your tight little hole milks my cock. Can you do that for me, Hyewon?”

“Yes, of course! I’ll make you cum so hard, I’ll give you the best orgasm you’ve ever had. Just please cum in me!”

There was no chance you’d say no to that. So you just sat back, relaxed, and enjoyed the show—intently watching Hyewon riding your cock, and shifting your focus from her bouncing breasts to your cock disappearing inside her. It wouldn’t take long for you to explode.

“You’re so good at that, Hyewon. You must love that cock the way you’re fucking yourself with it. You have the prettiest moans, did you know that? You’re so fucking gorgeous, too.”

Hyewon blushed, but said nothing, only letting wordless moans escape her throat. The constant praise might have made her cum again, but she was intent on finishing you off, returning the favor for the massive orgasm you gave her. She rode with a fury, channeling all her former anger into her hips, while her plump cheeks bounced down on your crotch.

“There you go. I’m getting close. Come on, Hyewon—make me fucking cum!” Your demands couldn’t be met fast enough. Hyewon couldn’t take your cock the way you craved, deprived of energy thanks to your own efforts. You wouldn’t be denied the pleasure you required, and took charge, clutching her hips intending to defile Hyewon—to ruin her, to use her body, and turn her into a fucked out mess incapable of remembering her own name.

The thrusts came rough from the get-go, a lightning quick tempo as you pounded into Hyewon with all the built up anger and frustration accumulated. Her body reacted to the forceful nature of your rocking hips, your cock drowning in the slickness of her impossibly wet cunt, while the prominent wet squelch that let out begged for more.

Almost there. Hyewon bounced on your cock with your help, lifting her immaculate body, and then slamming her back down on your shaft, looping the erotic motions. At the same time, you grabbed handfuls of whatever you had access to—either her large breasts, misted with sweat, or her fleshy buttcheeks, slapping them loudly at the apex of your strokes.

It was the last slap on her tight ass that pushed you over the edge. When the pressure had built up towards the breaking point, you looked into Hyewon’s glazed-over eyes, wondering if there was any semblance of that demon that was introduced to you, and rammed into her heavenly pussy one more time, until your balls were destined to be emptied inside her.

The eruption and sense of relief that followed left loud, relieved moans that escaped your lips. As you spilled everything into Hyewon, it caused a chain reaction—a second, yet weaker orgasm overtaking her body that only made you thrust harder, determined to flood her body with a huge, thick load directly into her womb.

“Fuck, you really filled me up nicely,” Hyewon said, speaking up for the first time in several moments. “So much cum inside me, holy shit. It feels so good.”

“It's all your fault.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Now what?” you asked and used the conclusion to catch your breath.

“What do you mean, now what?”

“Do we forget about everything that happened? We’re even?”

“If that’s what you want. Besides, you just came inside of me. That means you’re responsible for anything that happens after.”

“What!? Are you not on protection?”

Hyewon hesitated for an uncomfortable amount of time, and let your question marinate. But of course, she couldn’t keep a straight face.

“Of course I am, idiot!”

“Oh my god! Fuck you, Hyewon!”

“You already did!”

This version of Hyewon was much preferable. A cheery, smiley woman that liked to tease and crack jokes, instead of a nagging, obnoxious brat that made your blood boil just by breathing the same air together.

“You’re cute,” Hyewon unexpectedly said. “Give me your phone number.”

“Usually people do it the opposite way—ask for your number first, and then fuck.”

“Well, we did it this way. Now you’re going to call me, and we’re going to do this again. Maybe somewhere more comfortable that isn’t this filthy car.”

“Hey! It’s not filthy.”

“I just squirted all over your backseat, and when I get off you, all the cum you left inside me is going to drip everywhere. You call that clean?”

“Okay, fair point.”

Hyewon lifted herself off your cock, and as expected, pearly semen slowly leaked out of her pussy. “Fuck, that’s such a huge load.”

Hyewon searched around for her clothes, finding her bra, but everything else was too far away. “Hand me my pants? You can keep the panties, they’re ruined anyway.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Okay, I need to get out of here and shower. You better call me.”

#izone smut #hyewon smut #izone #hyewon #reader insert #male reader

1K notes · View notes

luvyanfei · 3 years

Text

anon said. ooo a new blog! can you do confession headcanons where xiao, childe, and scaramouche react to reader confessing to them and the aftermath of it? thank you!

a/n. xiao’s is kind of terrible ;; ue ue gomenasai

“i love you, [character’s name].”

SCARAMOUCHE.

huh? is this some kind of a joke? if so, it’s definitely not a good idea to mess with his feelings like this, especially when he also shares the same sentiment. scaramouche is almost impressed by your boldness. not everyone has the nerve to confess their love for a harbinger in front of their own faces, after all. when he’s hit with the realization that you’re serious, he secretly pinches himself to make sure he’s not in a dream.

the sharp pain that comes with his nails making contact with his flesh affirms that this is real. he stifles back a genuine smile, choosing to stay calm despite the bliss he’s currently feeling. “i guess it can’t be helped. hmph, you should be lucky i’m rather fond of you as well, [name].” he says that, but he’s the fortunate one to have successfully stolen your heart before others can claim you for themselves.

unfortunately, his time with you is quite limited due to his affiliation with the fatui, so any fleeting moments are captured in photos from the kamera to look back on. he secretly carries a picture of you while he’s out of town on important missions so that he won’t miss you too badly. he fondly looks at your still, yet smiling face to cheer him up after a tough work while everyone else is asleep. well, almost everyone.

“hmm, who’s that in your hands, scaramouche?” childe asks, gesturing to the photo the harbinger is admiring fondly. scaramouche rolls his eyes to hide his slight embarrassment and hesitates a bit before he answers.

“oh them? their name is [name], my... sibling.” childe almost gapes in disbelief as he looks at the blue-haired man in shock.

“you have a sibling? why didn’t you tell me? they’re so cute!” the 11th harbinger squeals in delight, which honestly irks poor scaramouche. he scoots away to give himself some space as he tucks the picture in his pocket for safe-keeping.

“you didn’t bother to,” he explains matter-of-factly. “now if you’ll excuse me,” he stands up from his crouched position and dusts himself, “i’m going to take a walk, alone.”

he wanders through a dark forest and grassy fields, until he finds himself standing on top of a cliff, the moon glowing brightly above. he peers up at the twinkling stars in the sky and imagines you beside him, watching the breathtaking view together. humming an unfamiliar tune to himself, scaramouche muses over the past and replays your confession over and over again. if he could, he would respond differently than he did before.

‘i love you.’ those three letter words echo in his ears like a melody and he allows himself to smile.

“i love you too, [name].”

XIAO.

he automatically perks up an eyebrow in confusion. what? is it just him or did you seriously admitted you love him? xiao stammers for a brief second, no words spilling out from his partially open mouth. what is he supposed to say? “thank you?” “i love you too?”

when he pulls himself together, xiao shakes his head and frowns. his answer is clear and simple: no. you mortals don’t understand just how dangerous it is to get close with someone like him - a yaksha. drowning in the brink of debt and despair, he doesn’t need you to suffer all the same. the dejected expression on your face pains him to a considerable degree, yet he convinces himself, this is for your own good.

since then, he avoids you like the plague in hopes that your feelings for him will disperse into flames. you deserve someone better, someone who won’t place you in harm’s way, someone unlike him. out of kindness, you still visit him from time to time while you go and do your daily commissions, but your interaction is heavily tense and an air of discomfort seeps through your gaze. why does his chest hurt as if he was impaled with a knife and so much more when you look at him like that? the thought of breaking down and revealing the truth that he’s also in love with you tempts him eagerly, but his pride and anxiety tides over his desires.

you, on the other hand, is aware that xiao harbors feelings for you. you discovered this secret of his when you climbed the stairs to the spot on the balcony where he was to surprise him with a greeting, but your ears captured a faint voice in the night breeze and you couldn’t stop yourself from eavesdropping on the little conversation xiao was having with himself. he muttered about “rex lapis”, the fate of liyue, and etc. you were about to leave him to his own devices, but the next words he said stopped you in your tracks.

“will [name] accept me if i say i love them? probably not, i suppose.” you left before he could spare a glance in your direction and a smile graced your features as you happily walked away. and being the persistent individual that you are, you inquire verr on why he’s acting so cold towards you, desperate to seek the answer you need. “xiao is, as you’re well aware, a yaksha who’s experienced hardships throughout his life, and probably lost loved ones along the way. i’m sure,” she turns to look at the setting sun in melancholy, “he doesn’t want to hurt anyone important to him again.”

you plan ahead of time for the best way to approach him without giving him any chance to escape. unfortunately, this is the only thing you can think of as you place a hand on either side of his head, trapping him between you and the wall. xiao looks at you curiously, devoid of amusement. he crosses his arms and frowns.

“what are you doing?” your hands twitch and you chew on your bottom lip nervously before you explain yourself.

“i heard from verr why you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder, that you don’t want to hurt anyone important to you, but...” you trail off to blink back the tears threatening to burst.

“it hurts, when you ignore me like this.” your voice is quiet enough that he needs to step closer to hear you. “it hurts how selfless you are. can’t you be selfish just once? i meant what i said and i’ll say it again. i love you.”

xiao stammers, at a loss for words, before he starts sniffling and buries himself in your arms, crying out apologies as you stroke the back of his hair and gives a closed-eye smile. “it’s okay, xiao. i’m sorry too, for not realizing how much you’ve been suffering by yourself. you don’t have to carry the burden alone anymore,” you say, looking into his tear-filled eyes, “i will always be here with you, no matter what path you choose to take.”

“even if that path may eventually hurt you?” he whispers in a cracked voice, fingers curling around your sleeves. you nod.

“it’s worth the pain as long as i can hold you in my arms, like this.” he chokes out a bitter chuckle and wipes away the glistening tears.

“i love you too, [name].”

CHILDE.

the harbinger blinks his cerulean eyes once, then twice, and... you find yourself pulled into his arms, as his lips uplift into a jovial smile. “really? you love me? [name], i had no idea you held such deep admiration for me.” you playfully roll your eyes and chuckle as you wrap your own arms around his body, fondly reciprocating his affection.

he’s the fastest to accept your confession than the other two men. you’d bet he would scamper to where he’s staying at to tell every grain of detail to his adoring relatives.

he writes letters to his siblings about your daily dates and the progress you two are making in your relationship. they tease him for the most part, but they’re happy that he’s found the love of his life and requests that he bring you along with him on his next visit. childe smiles in relief, content that they accept you already despite never meeting you and he asks you if you’d like to come with him to his home country where you can introduce yourself to his family. without hesitation, you agree instantly, eager to meet the siblings he gushes about.

snezhnaya is colder than you thought, as you hug yourself to preserve your warmth, even with the layers of clothing wrapped around you. “we’re almost there, [name].” childe notices your trembling and rubs his gloved hands against your back. “sorry, it’s a bit chilly here, but please bear with me.”

you nod and continue on. when a building enters your field of sight, childe stops and grins shyly at you. “this is the place.” breath materializes in front of you as he gestures for you to head on in. almost immediately are you greeted with a little embrace as a young boy wraps his fingers around your waist and grins up at you.

“so you’re the one who big brother said he’s in love with? have you kissed before? when is your wedding?” the child bombards you with questions excitedly and a girl has to pull him away from you, tonia, you guess.

“teucer,” childe scolds gently, a light blush colouring his cheeks, which does not go unnoticed in his siblings’ eyes, unfortunately for him.

a wedding, huh? seeing the sparkle in your eyes, the laughter in your voice, and the warmth of your touch as you idly chat with his siblings makes him hope, that maybe in the distant future, he’ll brave himself to take the next step to further deepen your relationship, for he wants to be with you always.

as he tucks away the last sleeping child, childe wanders in to your shared bedroom, surprised you’re still awake. “you really love them a lot, huh childe?” he nods seriously, as you pull him to lie down comfortably into bed.

“but do you know something else?” his breath tickles your ear as he intertwines his fingers with yours, offering a meek smile. you shake your head and nuzzle closer to him.

“i love you too, [name].”

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #scaramouche x reader #xiao x reader

1K notes · View notes

shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

harmless (viii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, protesting, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, gamer (derogatory), smidge of angst

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: listen idk what goes on at construction site and im too sexy to research so we’re going with my version of the world. hello. how are we all doing?

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He doesn’t expect to see you on TV.

In jail maybe, for something scandalous and completely unnecessary, but not TV.

But there you are, a sign board waving around furiously in your hand, voice in protest against the demolition of the community centre. You’re flipping the board back and forth to alternate between the messages you’ve scrawled on the cardboard.

You were among a few protesting, but clearly the loudest.

He thinks that maybe he has the weekend off if you’re too busy fighting big corporations. He’d send his support even.

Until he zeroes in on the sign when it flips over, finally reading what it says.

You better get your ass here, sarge

And so he does.

Half the crowd had dipped by the time he arrived. You were there, still the loudest, but he couldn’t help but notice the lack of people as compared to an hour or two ago on TV. He supposed that justice could wait as long as it took to get lunch from the nearest café.

“I can’t stop you from protesting, y’know.” He’s a little wary of approaching your raging self.

“Oh, hey Barnes. You got my message.” You break away for a second to scream a bunch of obscenities at the gigantic glass building before turning to him. “You wouldn’t be able to.”

“What’s your dumb plan then?”

“First of all, it’s not dumb. It’s stupid. Put some respect on my technological genius.” You held up a finger. “Second of all, it’s not here.”

“Where is it?”

“At the construction site.” You point down the road. “Come on.”

Right along the way you stop to chant another slogan. He waves his arm around meekly in support. He did, after all, have to stand up for what was right, but if his publicist saw him here she’d have an aneurysm.

The construction site isn’t very far off. It’s adjacent to the community centre, which he assumes they’re going to tear down to make more space for whatever shitty commercial building was going to take its place.

There are already a few excavators and dozers there but no one to man them since it was lunch time. What garners his attention is the small silver plate that’s on the floor a few feet ahead in the direction you’re walking towards.

“Here.” You stop once it nears. “The plan.”

“Am I supposed to know what this is?” He lightly kicked at it, earning a smack on the arm from you.

“Stop that,” you scolded, “and look at it. It’s not hard to figure out.”

He narrows his eyes. There’s a small u-shaped piece of metal in the middle of the plate. “That’s a magnet.”

“Exactly.” You clapped your hands together in excitement. “The world’s strongest electromagnet.”

He looks around. The only possibly magnetic things are the cranes and excavators around him.

“You’re going to... stop the machines from moving ahead?” he hesitates in his deduction.

“Yep. Can’t tear anything down if they can’t get to it first.”

Bucky looks down.

“Does this thing even work?” He toes at it again. “It’s kinda small.”

“It works beautifully, stop kicking at it, you demon-”

“What happens if I step on it, huh?” He knows this would get on your nerves wonderfully. He raises his leg. “Do I get to go home for the day?”

“You’re such a little shit,” you whine, reaching for your back pocket. “Stop bullying my invention.”

“’m gonna squish it like a bug.” He’s only half kidding about that part. “I’m gonna-”

Before he can finish his sentence something yanks him down hard. His head nearly hits the ground before his right arm shoots out to break his fall.

"Woah there, don't go falling for me as yet.”

“What the fu-” he begins, eyes locking on his metal arm that was pressed flat against the earth.

“I told you it works,” you say smugly. “Try crushing it now, Barnes. If you can even get off the floor.”

He tugs his hand but it’s firmly attached to the thing. No matter how or where he’s applying the effort, his limb refuses to move. He’s stuck.

“Turn it off,” he sighs. “You made your point.”

“No. Stay there.”

“Y/N, shut up and turn this off,” he groans, trying to find a better position rather than chin down on the ground.

“Lay there and rot. You deserve it for underestimating me.” You huff.

“I wasn’t underestimating you, Jesus Christ.” He really was planning to just step on it, but he had complete faith that it worked.

When he doesn’t receive a reply, his gaze follows yours. Suddenly the crane looks a lot closer than it initially did. Awesome.

“Those are moving towards me.” He picks up on the low groan and creak of metal.

“Yeah, they are.” You nod, one hand on your hip, watching them.

He didn’t think that getting crushed under construction equipment would be how his day went.

“Not my problem,” you decide finally after a bout of silence.

Now that simply wouldn’t do.

Death was definitely a problem, but what was more important was that he was going to get a dust allergy from the mud. He could already feel the blocked nose and temperature incoming.

“Are you really going to waste this on me? Don’t you have a demolition to stop?” He manages to twist his body so that he’s lying on his back.

“Good point,” you squint into the distance at the whirring of the heavy machinery. Their owners wouldn’t be happy to find them missing from their original spot. “But I still can’t help you out.”

“You’re willing to sacrifice your-”

“I can’t help you out because I don’t have an off switch. Yet,” you add the last part in a hurry.

“Then when the fuck were you planning to build one?” He sits up, leaning on his elbow. The cranes weren’t a mini object on the horizon now; the closer they got, the faster they were starting to move towards him.

“I don’t know, after they agreed not to take down the building?”

He could just detach his arm and come back for it later he but had no guarantee that you would stop here for the day or that the vibranium could withstand all that pressure.

“You better make a switch right now and get me out of this, I don’t care how.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumbled, bending to assess how badly he was stuck. “You know, this thing runs really deep into the earth. It’d take forever to dig back up and then get you back to my lab and then build a switch.”

“How long?” He didn’t have a lot of time, clearly, but even generally he didn’t have the whole day to waste. He had a mission the next day. He had to put the fear of death into some Russians and bring some pirozhki back for Nat.

“I don’t know,” you furrowed your eyebrows. “Too long for my schedule anyway, I have class prep to do.”

“Motherfucke- that thing’s like twenty feet away.” He’s worried about how you don’t look fazed at all when he points at the stupid machine.

He’s about to volunteer to detach his arm when he realises it’s definitely less than twenty feet now. He had a backup just in case. It didn’t move as smoothly, but who could tell the difference when a couple of tons of pressure was aiming for your face, and hell, if he explained his circumstances of the destruction of his arm to T’Challa-

“Okay, fine.” You reach into your backpack to grab something that looked like a wrist watch. It matched the one already around your hand.

You reach over and clasp it around his hand before turning a dial on the side.

“You ready?” you ask, ignoring the large crane that was starting to charge towards you.

“For what?” he replies, looking down at it. He can barely hear you over the sound of the whining of machinery.

“Teleportation, baby.” You send him a big grin before slamming down on his watch.

“Huh-” His voice cuts off immediately.

If there’s anything that can be said about teleportation, it’s that he feels like every atom in his entire body violently splits to float around briefly before suddenly rejoining again.

The ground beneath him feels different, and it takes him a second to realise that he was on the floor of your lair.

“What the fu-”

“Hello,” your voice comes from above him.

“You can teleport.” It’s not difficult for him to look at you now without the sun in his face. His arm is still stuck to the magnet but since the giant rod it was attached to was no longer deep in the ground, he could lift the entire apparatus up relatively easily.

“What, like it’s hard?” You discarded your bag on the floor. “You good? Takes a while to get used to.”

He gives you a grunt in acknowledgement, shaking his arm to see if he had any luck. It didn’t budge.

“Come on, take a seat.” You gesture to a lab chair you’ve pulled up for him on the raised platform at the front of the room. He realises that this is the first time he’s properly seen what’s actually inside your lair.

There are various buttons that do God knows what, drawers and cabinets painted black, several computer screens and gigantic pillars of glass on either side of the set up that encapsulate some green bubbling liquid. There’s a giant television set up against the wall, divided into several screens.

“Whaddya think?” You do a small swoop of your arm to show off the place.

“Gamer,” he says simply, testing his luck.

“What did you just say to me?” you recoil instantly, disgust on your face.

“It’s a gamer set up.” He points a finger at the TV screen. He was told by Shuri to use it as an insult, but he wasn’t exactly sure why. It just felt appropriate.

“Take that back right now.” You raise a finger accusatorially at him.

“No.” He was sticking with it even though he had no idea what exactly the context was.

“Fuck your arm,” you announce, throwing your hands up in surrender.

“Fuck your demolition then,” he replies simply, getting up from his place on the chair to leave with the thing still attached to him.

He takes one step ahead before your voice rings out.

“Sit down, drama queen,” your voice calls from behind him. “God, you’re annoying.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“I’m the best part of your week,” you fire back, ”and also your only way out of this. Now sit down.”

He didn’t even need the second warning, he was already on the chair the first time around.

“I’m not going to build a switch to turn this off. It’d take too long,” you examine the piece of equipment with more gentleness than he was expecting, “I’m going to remove it instead. It’s gonna take a while, so you better get comfortable.”

“I’m not.”

“That’s so sad,” you say without any indication of wanting to help.

He rolls his eyes.

You pull up next to him, welding glasses covering your face and the tool in your hand.

He turns away when you start, making sure his face is not directly within its trajectory.

He makes himself busy by looking around some more. There are details you’ve put into the place, materials that are non-flammable made up most of the architecture. It’s dramatic, sure, but somehow the designs and colours seemed to go together. It did look sinister, he’d give you props for that.

The space was quite big. It occurs to him only then that that’s how you manage to sneak up on him so often in the past. Everything clicked. Fucking teleportation.

“So,” your voice was raised to speak over the noise. “How’s it going?”

He decidedly doesn’t answer. His position is more than enough.

“Right.” You clear your throat.

He takes to counting the tiles on the floor, figuring out how many were there from the raised platform to the wall of the entrance.

“Not how you imagined your day to go, huh?” you continued despite his lack of response. “But some might say it’s a privilege to be spending the day with a cool, mad scie-”

“Are you going to keep talking?” he interrupts, losing his count on the floor.

“Yeah, duh,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You got anything better to do?”

He didn’t.

“What’s it like living with a bunch of superheroes?” You change course. He’s not sure if he’s really allowed to disclose top secret information. “I assume there’s a lot of protein shakes, talcum powder for the chafing-”

Then again, how much damage could you do by knowing that Steve preferred pancakes over waffles?

“It’s quiet,” he says. “Most of the time.”

“Save all your smart talking for the battlefield, huh?”

He doesn’t reply. It’s quiet around the Tower. A lot of their energy goes towards missions and recuperating once they’re back.

“You go on missions a lot?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Boo, you whore,” you say with mock disappointment.

He got that reference.

“What’s your favourite food then?”

He scrunches his eyebrows.

“What?” The welding stops for a second while you look at him. “Don’t tell me that’s classified too.”

It’s not, he’s just never thought about it.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, “Pasta?”

“Vague, but I’ll take it.”

He used to boil a lot of pasta, from what he could remember of his days in hiding. Cheap and bought in bulk before he saved up enough to buy things like fruits. A lot of the times the amount of sauce he had access to was enough for maybe seasoning, not a whole component on its own.

It’s one of the perks of being a free man in the 21st century he thinks, a steaming bowl of fettuccini drenched in sauce and garlic bread on the side.

“What do you do in your downtime?”

“Nothing.” Well, he considers it to be a pass time and doing nothing is a full time gig. It takes effort to do nothing. He even has days dedicated to doing nothing, as suggested to him by his therapist.

“Really?” You sound a little surprised, although it’s hard to make out when you’re already speaking a lot louder than usual. “No shining your penny collection? No software update for this thing?” You tap at his arm.

There really isn’t anything. Truth be told, he thinks he’s the most boring guy in the Tower. He sticks to himself, has a few succulents that he adores and occasionally watches trashy television. So then why are you so interested in him?

“You’re obsessed with me,” he says pointedly. “Why?”

You give a short laugh. “I think it’s the blue eyes, sarge, they’re really popping today. Gotta say, I’m loving this colour on you. Is it different from the black you wore last week? And from the one from the week before that?”

He looks down at his dark t-shirt and utility pants. He had other clothes but those were reserved for things that were not this.

“Or maybe it’s the grumpiness, I don’t know. I love it when someone shows absolutely no interest in me. Very sexy of you.” Oh jeez, you were going to continue. “Hell, maybe it’s the thighs-”

“Okay,” he interjects, feeling the need to count the tiles more than ever. He equates the heat in his neck from the welding going on beside him.

The loudness of your laughter is clearer than the sound of metal on metal when you tug a large piece of the invention off. Things were moving fast. He could get back home to his Star Trek marathon and forget this day ever happened.

“You know, you’re more interesting than you think,” you pipe up casually.

He doesn’t expect this and therefore he supposes he can’t stop the curiosity from enveloping his face. He hasn’t told you anything about himself, so then the inference you reached came out of nowhere.

Apparently, you take notice of the confusion on his face, even though he can’t see through the giant welding mask, because you let out a chuckle.

“Oh, come on, really? You have no idea?” you ask lightly, pausing to see if he offers anything other than silence. “You’ve come back almost every week even though you know it’s a waste of your time, you always keep your promises and I know for a fact that if you wanted to stop me once and for all, you could have. But you’re not.”

He doesn’t realise you’ve stopped welding until you start again. Good, it gives him an excuse not to have to look at you after that.

Frankly, he’s a little stunned.

You’re not looking at him, he can tell from his peripheral vision. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a small crush on me.”

At that, he’s forced to roll his eyes out of instinct. Thankfully you do know better.

A few screws out later, another piece comes out. You inform him that’s it’s going to get trickier from there since the circuit was a little more intricate, a lot more time than the original few pieces. He can see his Star Trek marathon fade away in the distance.

You ask him a few more questions. Some he answers with silence, others maybe a tidbit here and there.

“How’s dating now compared to the forties?”

“Strange.” He purses his lips in thought. “One guy asked for a gym date. Didn’t know that was a thing.”

“How’d that turn out?” you laugh.

“He didn’t ask for a second one.” His Bumble matches with girls somehow had gone down since he cut his hair, but he’s not too bothered. Not like there was a huge shortage.

He likes cats, thinks the worst merchandise that they make is the stupid baseball card with his face on it, and doesn’t have social media for the sake of his sanity. He’s seen the thirst tweets.

Clearly, he’s revealed his deepest, darkest secrets. Utterly classified material. But he doesn’t know anything about you other than your name, number, address, where you teach, what your hobby is-

“You, uh-” he hesitates, “You got a favourite food?”

Your hands hold still to hover above what they’re working on. You fight back a smile. “Sure do.”

He asks a few more questions. Shuts up when he feels his social battery drain. That’s enough for the next month, he thinks.

The sun’s dipped down beyond the horizon by the time majority of the work is completed. Both of you have taken a few breaks to fight the feeling of stiffness that was creeping into your joints.

You scoff and tell him you’re not planning to poison him when he denies the offer of a soda. He doesn’t deter in his decision.

“How much to go?” He has a mission tomorrow that he’d really like to get some sleep in before. Waking up at 3am to get ready was the worst part of the job.

“Basically done.” You roll your chair back, rotating your shoulder and stretching your fingers. “There’s just this little part that I can’t access from this angle. How good are you at hanging upside down like a bat?”

Fuck it, he sighs to himself, it was almost finished anyway.

Bucky stands up, tilting his neck to the side slightly before pulling at a small latch under his arm, one so tiny that you’d never make out was even there unless you knew it existed. The arm releases from his shoulder with a small click.

He offers it to you, a piece of your magnet still attached to it.

Your eyes are slightly wide. He raises his eyebrows.

You don’t say anything, just accept it and flip it to a position you were comfortable with. It takes only a minute or two for the sound of the last piece hitting the floor to reverberate through the hall.

You give a small cheer. He lets out a tiny exhale in equal parts fatigue and relief.

“So,” you drawl, handing his arm back to him, “you could have just done that the whole time.”

He doesn’t reply, just slides it back onto his shoulder.

“You had the option of leaving your arm here and coming back later to get it.”

He gives it a few shakes, opens and clenches his fist shut a few times to make sure everything is working.

“You wanted to talk to me.”

He gives you a deadpan look. “I was distracting you.”

“Bullshit,” you laugh.

“Believe what you must.” He shrugs, turning around. “My job here is done regardless.”

“Oh, I believe alright,” you call out from behind him as he walks towards the entrance of your lair. “I believe you’re a sneaky bastard, Bucky Barnes.”

He doesn’t stop himself from smiling at the overdramatic gasp you give when he flips you a middle finger. From the metal arm, too.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

979 notes · View notes

doopdevil · 2 years

Text

what are you waiting for? | n.romanoff x fem!reader x s.rogers | PART THREE

PART 1 | PART 2 | MASTERLIST

warnings: cursing ; one-sided love ; angst ; anxiety ; big argument ; death ; grief

pairings: natasha romanoff x fem!reader ; steve rogers x fem!reader (not poly)

word count: 2,770

summary: natasha is at her limit, and perhaps so is steve.

a/n: just as i was about to post this, firefox crashed 😭 anyways i hope you all enjoy this part, it’s about to get real sad up in here!! also, i hope i’m not rushing the story too much. i just really want to establish a certain tone contextually, but if i’m going too slow or fast, lmk! and finally, if you’re interested, my requests are open, and i’m accepting prompts & characters from this list! thank you so so much for reading and i hope you enjoy it!

“Carol, when will you be coming back to Earth?” Natasha queried.

“Not in a while. The planet I’m at was hit hard by the snap. A civil war could break out if I don’t interfere soon.” the pilot languidly explained. Carol’s usual confident demeanor was weakening by the second. She, like the rest of them, was exhausted.

“Understood. Let’s end this meeting for now and touch base soon.” Those who remained of the Avengers said their goodbyes, leaving Natasha alone again.

The assassin visibly slumped in her seat. It was currently 6:00 p.m. Someone who cared for her, a relative or friend would tell her to make dinner. But no one was there to do so. Hours passed like minutes and before she knew it, the redhead had fallen asleep on her humongous stack of papers. A little drool soaked a document-turned pillow. She sat up with a groan and sighed. Nat thought she might as well send it in any way, as she used the sleeve of her maroon sweater to violently rub on the paper. Natasha had been having a terrible day for the past five years now. Every time she’d think that things couldn’t get worse, the universe would prove her wrong. The majority of the responsibilities of leading the Avengers fell on her, thus beginning the feeling of crushing weight on her shoulders. If Natasha wasn’t working, she was asleep, and she didn’t sleep much. She’d volunteer at the nearby shelters, help ration supplies, and work with people who had been alone like she was. Nat was no stranger to being alone. But its presence was not a friendly one. Tony was gone. He and Pepper were secluded in a little cabin, with a new toddler, and everything they needed. God knows where Bruce or Clint was. Steve would come and go, often taking missions in foreign countries. He’d do anything to avoid being in your old apartment. It was dusty and barren – and it reeked of guilt. Although the captain continued doing the best he could, most of the responsibility fell on Natasha. She continued to rub out the stain on the document with growing agitation. The crinkly tear was unpleasant, ringing in her ears as if it were mocking her. Maybe she could send a drool-stained document in, but she sure as hell couldn’t send in a ripped one. On her last nerve, she threw the contents out and began heading to her room.

Only Natasha could navigate the organized chaos that was her room. But the room had an emptiness to it. Despite being filled with things that had belonged to her, and to people she loved, they were soaked in the dust. Upon further inspection, it would’ve seemed that she hadn’t touched some of those things in years. Natasha headed towards a soft, lumpy pile that lay next to her bed. She fished a familiar item out and frowned. Y/N’s hoodie. The last time she saw you, you had eagerly lent it to her. “I know you want to be all cool and tough Nat, but you can’t fool me! Just take the damn hoodie!” The Russian was never one for being vulnerable, but she’d make an exception for you. The soft baby-blue garment scrunched up in her clutching hands, its cozy essence standing apart from everything else in the room. It was glowing with its apparent usage and obvious lack of dust. A bit smelly too. Natasha felt the need to hide every time she’d do this. She’d hold your hoodie close to her as if she were holding a hollow shell of you. The assassin refused to wash it. Somehow after all these years, she could detect your familiar scent. She took in a deep breath and held. 20 seconds had passed and she was still holding it in. It was one of the only pieces of evidence that you had indeed, existed, working against the startling fact that you were gone. When she forced herself to exhale, small, silent tears began to flow from her glassy eyes. Even all alone in the compound, she hated crying too loudly. If she remained quiet, no one would know a thing. No one would know how much she loved you.

The blonde soldier awoke with a start. He silently cursed at himself for making that mistake again. Assuming that you would be laying next to him, head tucked in his muscular arm, content and comfortable from the torments of the world. But what greeted him had been a blonde head of hair on top of a bareback that slept towards the window. Sharon Carter. Back when he refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, she was just a friend and trusted ally. A reminder of what he had lost so long ago. With you being his wife, other romantic endeavors hardly crossed his mind. And then you started to drift apart. Steve took no joy in pushing you away, but the last thing he wanted was for his dangerous life to interfere with yours. Although the captain can admit, maybe he pushed a little too far. So much in fact that he had inadvertently created a rift that neither of you could repair; all for the sake of his peace of mind. He despised that the last words exchanged between you two were so painful. “I don’t want to have children with you.” Even now, he could hear your muffled sobs behind the hotel door with a horrifying clearness. He could’ve sworn you were right next to him.

To say the captain was hesitant to date again was an understatement. When the blip had first occurred, he was dead-set on bringing you back. Even when things were the worst, he and the Avengers always found a way. Then you’d all be together again; a dysfunctional yet tightly knit family with lots of time to make up for. Steve would finally be able to tell you how sorry he is. All of his guilt and regret would come forth into the open. But now he knew that was just wishful thinking. Years had passed and he had only just mustered up the courage to ask out Sharon. That could only happen after years of guilt and grief, leading to the inevitable: acceptance. His support group helped a lot, and eventually asking Sharon out didn’t seem so self-serving. You’d want him to be happy, right? At least that’s what he kept telling himself. On nights like these, Sharon would always fall asleep immediately, leaving Steve to hold her with nothing but you in his thoughts. He couldn’t be here anymore.

Steve rose up from the bed as quietly as he could, sneaking towards a pair of shoes, his keys, and a brown leather jacket. The captain would be out for a while. He desperately needed to leave a place that made him feel like something wrong towards you; the contrary of a husband: a traitor.

“Natasha, please.”

“No.”

“I beg of you, Nat. I need this. I need you.”

“No.”

“But you’re the only one who can do this!” you cried.

Natasha sighed. She knew you’d get to her eventually. You and your alluring presence, perking up adorably at the sight of her giving in. Nat knew how delighted you’d be if she accepted, and she wasn’t one to lose out on an opportunity to make you smile. Regardless of how ridiculously childish it felt.

“Fine. I’ll get you the damn seal.”

The amusing sounds of carnival music, laughter, and tacky game effects filled the vicinity. There it stood, powerful and commanding, only a few booths away from you and Natasha. A titillating game of bullseye, all for the prize of an adorably plump seal doll. It had clearly enamored you the second you laid your eyes on its strange, and quite frankly, painful-looking ones. Poor carnival seal. If anyone had the coordination and skill to rescue it from its prison; it would be Nat. She really tried her best to seem nonchalant. But it wasn’t easy with you standing so close to her, squealing in anticipation whenever she hit the target. It felt surreal when you kissed her cheek.

“Natasha! You fucking did it!”

Nat’s face in concentration melted into a soft smirk. That fluffy seal would be your prize, and you being so happy would be hers.

“I’ll take the seal for this lovely lady,” Natasha felt bold, glancing towards you. A surge of confidence radiated off of her once she gave you the enormous plush doll. Making you happy wasn’t a chore, it was an honor.

“Nat. Thank you! You’re the best, really,” you chirped, before lunging into her for a hug. Natasha always spoiled you and it never ceased to flatter you. If anyone else had asked her to play a carnival game to get them a seal doll, she’d laugh in their face. Knowing how much she favored you, as much as you enjoyed being with her had filled you with a sense of longing.

“Anything you want Nat. You’ve dealt with me going absolutely insane over… well over all of this!” You gestured towards the scenery surrounding you. A moderately packed carnival glowed in the evening dusk, the lively lights, and chatter enough to affirm that people were still awake. You had asked Steve to go with you, but he apologetically turned down your date offer. He had a long mission in Europe to leave for, and once he was back the carnival would likely be gone. You loved these little pieces of fun in life. Small reminders of your childhood, sacred places to hide away from the clutches of adult responsibility. You were desperate for a break, and Natasha saw that when your face fell at the sight of Steve leaving. She couldn’t leave you alone like that.

“Anything?” she asked in a whisper, almost shyly.

“Yes, Natasha. Anything.”

Natasha’s eyes opened immediately, alert and prepared as always. The bright light from her phone illuminated her bleak, dark bedroom. Steve would be coming by. Great. If anything could derail that intoxicating dream, it was him. Her copper hair swished as she turned towards the clock. 6:00 a.m. It was still dark out. She had only gotten four hours of sleeping and it showed; but quite frankly, she couldn’t care less. Natasha groggily left her room to greet Steve (and maybe even punch him for waking her up.) She turned down a hall where the plexiglass window revealed a sullen Steve, sitting with his bare feet submerged by water.

With an exasperated sigh, she hugged her hoodie closer to her, as if to fight off the goosebumps that started to form.

“Isn’t it a little late for beer, Cap?”

Steve turned with a small smile.

“I think I’m entitled to a drink or two on the weekend, Nat.”

“Well then, I guess I am too,” she said as a matter-of-factly, sitting down next to him, legs crossed and shaking from the cold. In an attempt to numb herself, she swiped a fresh beer from his hand.

“I know you well enough to know when you’re upset, Steve,” Natasha continued, “Why the hell is Captain America drinking at 6 in the morning?”

Steve paused. Natasha was nothing if not relentless.

“...I feel guilty.”

“Here here, man. We’ve all been in that boat. I mean, we’re supposed to be the Avengers and we couldn’t even stop all of this bullshit.” She was clearly too tired for pleasantries.

“Don’t get me wrong Nat, I do feel that way. But I was referring to Y/N.”

She retained the sound of your name with a jolt of pain. The spy had gotten far too familiar with not hearing it. It broke her heart to notice another sign that you were fading away.

“I’ve started dating again… but I can’t stop comparing her to Y/N,” he sighed.

Natasha would begrudgingly continue to do what she had always done. The right thing. It wasn’t his fault that she was hopelessly in love with his wife.

“Steve, that girl loved you more than anything.”

“Not exactly helping, but-”

“Jeez, let me finish! I mean that she loved you enough to want you to be happy. I’m positive that the last thing she’d want is for you to spend the rest of your life in pain over her. It would break her heart. If you’re really serious about this new girl, appreciate her for what she is rather than what she’s not.”

“I guess that is what she’d want,” he paused.

“What do you want, Nat?” Steve suddenly asked, cloudy blue eyes glancing towards her.

“World peace. A Thanos torture chamber. Another beer, perhaps. What do you mean?”

“You’re wearing her hoodie.”

Natasha was at a loss for words. She’d wear the thing so much she hadn’t taken into account that people would remember it belonged to you. Steve was frowning, staring down into the water with a hesitant look. He began to speak, his tone pained and honest.

“I’m not an idiot Nat. I should know if one of my best friends is in love with my wife.”

“I… don’t want to talk about this with you.”

“If you have something to say, just say it. You’ve been itching to punch my face for years now, haven’t you?” he asked.

She had managed to keep her emotions in check for all these years, and she wasn’t going to give up now. Not because Steve was depressed with a death wish. Natasha briskly got up, itching to leave whatever this was.

“I’m not mad, Nat. I just want to talk about Y/N with someone who understands-”

“No, you fucking don’t!” So much for keeping it all in.

“For years, I have stood by while you were with her. I let you because I thought you could handle it, treat her better than I ever could. And then you fucking leave her for the niece of your ex? Unlike you, I will not stop fucking mourning. I refuse to stop until I’ve torn apart every last bit of those who’ve taken her from me, and you just gave up! Why do you get everything for not doing a damned thing?” Her emotions spilled out like wildfire, finally bursting into flame after years of being contained. Regardless of the aggressive nature of her words, she was honest. That was enough for her.

For a second time that night, Steve had felt guilty. He shouldn’t have brought it up. Here he was, picking a fight with the woman who had only sought to put everything back together. Before he could speak, her confused voice filled the silence.

“Someone’s at the door,” both of their eyes instinctively bored into the surveillance screen as if they hadn’t even been arguing in the first place.

“Oh my god.”

“What is it?”

“It’s Scott.”

Shock. It tore through your body like rose thorns, paralyzing you in a state of utter confusion. You were back in the hotel as if all of the dust had come together the second you broke apart. Although, it was different. Your eyes scanned the room frantically. Somehow, it was no longer the same bedroom you were in seconds ago. Now it was a sort of sitting room. Whose apartment was this?

In a frenzy you ran for the door, desperate for answers. All of your belongings from what used to be your hotel room were gone, leaving you with no phone and even more questions. You sped down the stairs into the lobby, desperate for even a glimpse of someone else. What you had descended into was chaos. People were running around the ostentatiously decorated lobby, just as confused as you were.

“This man keeps calling my apartment his fucking hotel room!”

“I swear, I didn’t break-in. That was my hotel room before-”

Before he disappeared, you thought. You weren’t the only one to disintegrate into ash. Just how many people were gone? Running towards the doorman, you begged him to let you borrow his phone. Glancing onto the screen, you were taken aback. 2023? What the fuck? In a state of hysterics, you called a number Natasha had given to you months ago, or perhaps years ago, in case of emergencies.

The phone rang.

It continued.

You chewed your lip nervously. Where was she?

The ringing was tearing you apart, tears filling your eyes at the lack of her voice. Silence had never been so deafening.

“Y/N?” You had never felt so relieved or heard Natasha sound so vulnerable. Her voice was shaking with an unfamiliar tremble.

“Natasha?”

106 notes · View notes